#I have also been staring at a blank canvas for about 6 hours and I just needed to draw... something

[smalltimidbean]

I spilt my juice today

[antagonizedjordan]

I don’t really know what to say here, but I feel I need to say something.

My family was among the first to lose power in Austin, Texas, during the so-called “rolling blackouts” that turned out to be a controlled, intentional shut-off for select citizens for an undetermined amount of time.  A lie that resulted in massive suffering, a lack of preparedness, death of pets and plants, and yes, death to families across Texas, including children. Devastating property damage is still bursting through the state, apartments and homes flooding out, freezing, and catching fire.  Whatever the media is telling you about what’s going on in Texas, it’s worse.  And those pictures with the completely lit skylines and the blacked-out neighborhoods you’ve seen? They aren’t exaggerating.  I could see the empty high rises from our home, stuck in total darkness, with hotels keeping on their landscaping lights, and empty office buildings lit all the way up.  When I tell you the racial and class divide of who had power (electricity) and who didn’t was real, I mean it was REAL.  East of I-35 was left to suffer.  

After 2 days of our home’s interior at 30 degrees, and with no water or fireplace to help, we made the decision to evacuate.  I.e., decided it was more worth it to risk the roads (which were some of the most hazardous driving conditions I’ve ever experienced, and I grew up on the East Coast), than freeze.  Our neighborhood was without heat for more than 50 hours straight in single digit weather, in homes NOT designed for cold temperatures.  Some people are STILL without power, and it is day 6 (this is now due to storm damage, not controlled outages).    

And we had to make this decision with little to no information, due to both a horrific lack of communication from all city entities, and completely shit phone service (on a phone with 5% battery).  

At one point, we lost control on a downhill over a bridge, and I seriously thought we were going to die. I just reached over and held my wife’s hand and told her I loved her over and over as she held our cats in the passenger seat.  It may sound silly, melodramatic, or what have you, but it was a devastatingly calm moment of acceptance and I’m still shook.  The drive to our safe home was harrowing – cars abandoned along the entire way, all in varying states.  Some destroyed, some just left there, lodged in snow.  

Ambulances were all over the place and I know I saw at least one dead body on that drive.  Our homeless population was so, so vulnerable, and resources weren’t set up in time.    

We were one of the lucky ones who had a family willing to take us in – an immunocompromised family who took in FOUR families, despite the risks of the pandemic.  They housed us, shared their food, and kept their home warm despite the price gouging of electricity.  For those who got into a hotel in time, they are also suffering from gross price gouging, if they could afford it in the first place.  

Now, a week later, most of the city still doesn’t have water, and those who do have little to no pressure and are on a boil notice.  Grocery stores are emptied out with delays on deliveries.  Yes, FEMA is here, but it’s slower than you’d think, and the warming centers were set up after the driving conditions became insanely dangerous.  It is still a disaster down here – a humanitarian crisis.  

We arrived home yesterday, and I don’t know what witchcraft kept our home safe, but our pipes did not burst. Our neighbors cannot say the same, and the damage is unnerving.  We came home to shelter, but we also came home to destroyed gardens, birds frozen in our driveway, and trauma.  

Texas’s abandonment of her people has been traumatic, and people will be recovering from this physically, emotionally, and financially for years.  Ted Cruz leaving for Cancun through it all?  Hysterically hypocritical and gold for memes, but a final punch to the gut on how abandoned Texans really were.  

If you know someone in Texas, send them your love.  It’s been a dark, dark week.

I’m thankful for HEB, our local grocery store who let customers walk out the door without paying when they lost their power, and Beto, the man who SHOULD be in charge, organizing aid for senior citizens in need.  I’m thankful for all the families who opened up their homes, and I’m thankful for the technicians who worked through horrific weather to restore power.  I’m thankful for the ambulance who drove on iced over back roads to rescue my wife’s father from his rural home, bringing him into the hospital after 3 days bedridden with a temperature of 92 degrees.  He’s alive and recovering from hypothermia.

To my art community who reached out and offered my family aid, you sent us a warmth you cannot fathom – your kindness has kept us afloat.  I tried to draw something today for the first time, but stared at a blank canvas for an hour before I finally made this.  Fanart, to make me smile, referenced from my own house, and the experience of coming home and taking a deep breath because, somehow, our home was still there.  

Love to you all,

A xo

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday

Title: Extraordinary

Pairings: HotchReid (more to come)

Summary: League of Extraordinary Gentleman/Vampire AU;

Within the FBI there is a specialized team full of an elite selection of people. Unique individuals with very particular skill sets. And their job is to take the unusual cases: the ones that need to not only be solved, but are undetermined if the unsub is human, or something else entirely.

In a world filled with Vampires, non-human creatures, and subspecies unknown, there is only enough information to have them vaguely regulated. Rules that are so easily, and violently broken, all while hidden in plain sight among the unsuspecting public. Unrivaled for eons.

That’s where the BAU comes in.

Official Posting Date: October 2021

Links: (Masterpost) (Snippet 01) (Snippet 02) (Snippet 03) (Snippet 04)

(TW/CW: dead body/crime scene, blood and bite wounds talked about in detail, hypnosis/compelling someone to do something against their will, overall discussion of murder (basically what we see in every episode of the show))

(the story so far/what you need to know for this clip at least: Absolutely nothing you don’t already know, this is legit from the first chapter. Hotch is a Vampire (although the LEOs don’t really know that), Rossi is a priest, Morgan is so empathetically telepathic he can touch the auras in the air, and Reid is Reid. I know I’ve been giving you the juicy HotchReid stuff but here have some case stuff too, to see what you’re in for with the plot and everything. This is FIRST DRAFT so it’s terribly unpolished, first part is generalized POV (hence the more professional titles) and the second is within the team dynamics so they get more familiar. idk my first drafts are messy and indecisive, enjoy anyway. 💕)

–

They approach the body and Rainer shoos away his pestering, hovering officers and --- winces once again at the sight of the bloodied woman. “This is the third body in two days; a jogger found her about 6 am. Coroner says she thinks she’s been dead for about 6 hours; killed in the middle of the night, just like the others.” 

“Closer to five hours, I think,” Dr. Reid says, crouching down to look closer. All long legs and his gun looking too big on his belt next to his FBI badge. “Could still be within the Witching Hour, though.”

“Do you have accurate time of death estimates for the other two bodies?” Agent Morgan adds on, already picking up the train of thought Dr. Reid has started on. The detective pulls out an old-school flip notebook book and looks through it before answering.

“3:15am the first night, 9:30pm last night and now this.”

“Well that rules out hex, sacrifice, and spell gone wrong,” he concludes, as the other agents surround the body to inspect it from all angles. “So what are we thinking?”

“It’s a frenzied bite,” Agent Hotchner points out, looking from where he stands and not having to get as close as Dr. Reid to inspect it accurately. His eyesight is better than any microscope. “Shows multiple entries, it couldn’t get a good enough hold to rip her throat. Or she struggled, so it wasn’t strong enough to keep her pinned down.”

“The boys think it’s a Vamp,” Detective Rainer points out. “Maybe a baby one, still learning the ropes?”

“Vampire changes are regulated and no sire would allow whoever they turned to do this,” Agent Hotchner says, a colder flint to his voice that matches the way his dark stare cuts up to the detective. “No one has been turned in the United States in the past twelve years.”

“It’s not a Vampire bite,” Dr. Reid agrees, putting on latex gloves to further inspect the body and test the bite radius. “And it’s not a werewolf bite, either.”

“...Werewolf?” the detective says with a winded sound, eyes wide and looking to the three agents who didn’t even blink at the word. “There’s -- there’s such thing as werewolves?” 

“Detective, I think you should let my team and I work, we will come to you with our findings and then help you track down your killer.” Agent Hotchner doesn’t leave room for argument, his dark brown eyes looking pitch black in the early morning light, and Detective Rainer… suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to walk away. Like he can’t breathe if he doesn’t comply; he fights it, tries to fight it, and feels his will crumble beneath him like a sand bank giving way under his feet. He turns, even that small gesture lessening the pressure crushing his chest, and takes a step away from the group, air swept into his lungs like a riptide. He makes a hasty retreat after that, winded as if he just ran up a flight of stairs and the sweet taste of oxygen being his only reprieve. He doesn’t know what happened, and wouldn’t upon further inspection until much, much later.

-

“That wasn’t very nice, Hotch,” Rossi points out with a look of glib reprimand towards their team leader. “I thought compelling feeble minded beat cops was for those who have no skills to avoid it.”

“My patience was running thin, and we need to move faster on this case before our unsub kills again. He’s escalating.” That much is obvious, by the timeline alone, but Father Rossi still gives him a side-ways glance that says he finds far too much amusement in the undead’s antics. “Reid, are you sure it’s not a werewolf bite? It would explain the lack of control and precision.”

“I’m sure,” Reid says with finality, and no one makes a mention on why. He had done more research than any human possibly could in the past few months on werewolf transformation and the after effects of attacks. With what happened to one of their former agents mere months ago, no one doubted his newly learned expertise. “It’s also not a shifter, or a ghoul. We can rule out ghost and poltergeist as well, no residue or temperature shifts.” 

“Demon possession?” Morgan asks, looking to Rossi just as he does his customary Sign of the Cross at the mere mention. Can’t help the gesture, after his own past experiences. Giving anything the power of a name, even arbitrary, can be a dangerous thing. 

“We can’t rule it out,” he admits. “The teeth marks are human, someone possessed would still have a hard time biting that deep and doing that much damage. Cannibalism is only reserved for the amusements of level three demons, however they aren’t usually powerful enough to reach the mortal plane or take possession of someone’s body. They would need help.” 

“You really think someone would weaponize a demon like that?” 

“We’ve seen people do worse things, as has history, but I’d like to hope it wouldn’t happen in my lifetime.” 

“We need more information,” Hotch concludes, arms crossed and watching as Reid stands up and removes the blood stained gloves. “Morgan,” his gaze cuts to the tall man in his deep blue suit. “Can you walk the scene, tell us what you see?”

“Not with this many people around,” Morgan shakes his head, eyes glancing to every person within a twenty foot radius. “Too many readings, the aura field here looks like an oil spill. The only thing I can latch onto is…” his gaze is back on the ground, hovering over the dead woman, who would have no aura to speak of at all and therefore a blank canvas. He replaces Reid’s space, crouching down to touch the air over the bite wound. Fingers spread wide, less than a foot from her but not touching, palm suddenly curving as if over an invisible shoulder, the place where someone had once been not so long ago. It could have been the coroner, or the crime scene photographer, but with it being so close to the body -- chances were it was the unsub.

“They were crouched down, half on the ground, no… human thoughts that I can hear,” he says, closing his eyes and letting his hand glide through the air a little more, following the curve of someone’s spine and up their neck, resting where the head would be. “They have a fever burning them up, hot as a furnace--” he keeps his hand there too long, suddenly jerks it back as if it had physically burned him, then stands up again. Shaking off the aura reading still sticking to his fingers and the forefront of his mind. “Sound like anything you’ve heard of, pretty boy?” 

Reid shakes his head, sharing a glance with Father Rossi. “We might have to go through some of your demonology books.” The older man grins wide.

“You just want to get your hands on them, at this rate you’ll have them memorized by next week.” 

“Dave --” Hotch says slow, a reprimand of his own.

“Fine, fine, I’ll have Garcia send us some scans. If the Vatican knew I was putting a book like that in his hands they’d strip me of all my titles.”

“Didn’t they already do that?” Morgan teases with a grin.

“Ex-communicated. I got to keep the dog collar, the honorifics, bless the holy water, you know -- the party tricks.” 

–

((if you want to be apart of the taglist just hit me up via comment, reblog tag, DMs or asks 💕))

[horansqueen]

Stuck With You - Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Things I’ll Never Say

🡪chapter 1  🡪chapter 2  🡪chapter 3  🡪chapter 4  🡪chapter 5  🡪chapter 6  🡪chapter 7  🡪chapter 8  🡪chapter 9  🡪chapter 10  🡪chapter 11 🡪chapter 12 🡪chapter 13 🡪chapter 14 🡪chapter 15 🡪chapter 16 🡪chapter 17 🡪chapter 18 🡪chapter 19 🡪chapter 20 🡪chapter 21 🡪chapter 22 🡪chapter 23 🡪chapter 24 🡪chapter 25 🡪chapter 26 🡪chapter 27 🡪chapter 28 🡪chapter 29 🡪chapter 30 🡪chapter 31 🡪chapter 32  🡪chapter 33 🡪chapter 34

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

If I could say what I want to say I'd say I want to blow you, away Be with you every night Am I squeezing you too tight If I could say what I want to see I want to see you go down On one knee Marry me today Guess, I'm wishing my life away With these things I'll never say

It don't do me any good It's just a waste of time What use is it to you What's on my mind If ain't coming out We're not going anywhere So why can't I just tell you that I care

click here to be on the update list

DEVON

                                                  I woke up with a groan and felt my head throb and ache just like it would do if I was hungover. I hadn't had a single drop even if I should have when I remembered the way I painted and for how long. I was pretty sure I had fallen asleep on the floor but when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Niall's pretty face very close to mine.

My heart jumped in my chest and my lips parted before I licked them. He was sleeping and he looked so peaceful and motionless that I started wondering if he was actually breathing. I slipped my hand under the cover to reach for his naked chest and held my breath at how warm his skin was. It was a miracle my cold hand didn't wake up up but I still waited a few seconds, trying to feel his heart beating in his chest.

Every time I looked at him, I felt something twist in my stomach. I knew he wanted us to be official and if I listened to my heart, that's what I wanted too, but risking it was so scary I couldn't find the courage to give in to his request. I thought about Henry and how he had broken me, and I thought about Abby and how Niall could break me even more. There was no was I could heal my heart if he hurt me, it would be turned to complete dust and I knew it.

I found myself jealous of the way Niall was in love with Abby, and how he would have done anything for her. I was jealous of a past relationship of the man I had refused to date and I hated myself for it. I knew it wasn't rational and that it made no sense but I couldn't help it.

Perhaps, if I had met Niall before I met Henry... maybe if he had met me before he met Abby... In that specific case, maybe we could give each other the chance and the love we both deserved. The problem was that we both went through the exact same thing, or almost, and apparently, two persons who went through the same thing can understand each other, but can't help each other. I didn't know how true that saying was but I had heard it enough to hear it echo in my head every time I wanted to love again.

I brought my hand up to his face and brushed my fingertips on his cheek so softly that I felt a shiver run in my back. One of my fingers reached his bottom lip and I felt myself tear up. I had never met in my life a man like Niall and he was slipping through my fingers because of my fears and anticipations. It was unfair, and it was stupid, but the knot in my stomach was there permanently and I couldn't make it disappear. All the feelings that came back when I saw Henry again made me remember how bad love hurts and at that exact moment, laying in bed in front of Niall, I knew it was true.

I desperately wanted to kiss him but I knew he didn't want us to do anything anymore so I just swallowed hard and got out of the bed slowly. I searched for my painting and found it on the desk in a corner of the room, sighing low. I hated it and started nibbling on my bottom lip, trying to remember that I always hated my art in the first few days after making it, and that it was normal. Besides, artists are the worst critics of their own art.

I heard Niall move in bed and turned around just in time to see him reach for a pillow and bring it against him. He let out a short whimper and it made me wonder if he would have cuddled me if I was still in bed. I shook my head, trying to push that thought away, and finally search for a pen in the room, finally finding one in one of the drawers. I sat on the couch and started scribbling a few words on a paper. I really sucked at writing songs, but I could clearly remember a melody, especially one that really touched me, and it came in handy at that moment.

When I was done, I re-read what was written on the paper and raised my nose up before sighing again and folding the sheet, putting it away in my bag. I decided to take a quick shower to take the paint off my arms and face and when I walked back in the room, Niall was awake. I stopped walking and held my breath at the sight of his naked back. It's not like I had never seen Niall only wearing boxers but perhaps knowing I'm never get to touch him again made something twist in my stomach.

"Oh, hey." he let out when he turned around. "How did you sleep?"

I wanted to tell him that I slept better than I had in a while, if only because he was with me in the same bed. When I woke up, I felt the warmth of his body emanate on mine even if we weren't touching and I loved it way too much. I couldn't tell him that it would have been even better if he was holding me all night, but I wanted to, because I felt it all over my body. I felt it so intensely that I had to swallow a lump in my throat.

"Was nice, and you?"

"Good, thanks." he said, putting on sweatpants. "Better than the floor."

I sent him a small smile that he sent back and I licked my lips. "Thanks for bringing me in bed and tucking me in, last night. I vaguely remember."

"You're welcome, Devie."

I felt my heart flutter at the nickname and I realized I'd never get over it.

"So, you're going skiing today?"

"Snowboarding, yea." he let out, searching for his stuff in his bags. "You're gonna join us downstairs in a few hours?"

I nodded quickly and pressed my lips together as I stared at him. I loved how he moved around the room like it was just a random day and we were just used tp be around each other like that. To some extent, we were, since we shared the same room on campus, but it felt slightly different at that moment, more intimate, maybe. I let my mind wander, imagining what it would be like if we ended up dating and living together. Was that what I would see in the morning before he actually went to work?

"Okay, I'm ready. I'll see you later?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Mmhm." I nodded as I imagined him walking closing to me and bending down to kiss me.

Why did I like this scenario so much it made my heartbeats accelerate? I watched him leave and when the door closed behind him, I felt extremely empty and lonely. I got up after a few minutes and walked to my painting again, running my fingertips slowly on the colors I had used. Was it crazy to start painting with light colors so early after a break up? I turned my head to look at the door, hoping it would open again as my heart thumped hard in my chest. It was Niall, I knew it. It was him that brought in me all these new emotions and I liked it so much I felt myself tear up.

Without thinking, I searched through my bag and found a few pictures I had taken. I had taken the time to develop them by myself in the college darkroom and I had loved the result. Despite myself, the lights had added a few pale yellow spots and it looked amazing. At first, I wanted to numerize them and modify them but I realized I didn't need to.

I sat in bed and looked at them carefully. There were no full faces on any of them. My favorite was one of  Niall's naked shoulder with a bit of his back and hair. We could also see the top of my head and part of my forehead in it too as I lied down beneath him, and his fingers were slipped in my hair. I had no idea why this specific shot made me feel emotional but it was strong and it made something twist in my chest.

I got up and grabbed the piece of paper I had put in my bag earlier before I walked to the desk, sitting down in front of it. Slowly and carefully, I copied the lyrics I had scribbled while Niall was asleep behind the picture, along with a few lyrics that didn't belong to me. I had taken a lot of pictures in my life, but nothing like this one. Perhaps it was only because it meant so much to me... because he meant so much to me. It actually made me want to pain that picture and I quickly grabbed a blank canvas from my stuff before grabbing a pen. I was never really good at drawing people, I felt like the human body was too complex to draw, but I decided to make an exception this time. It didn't really matter anyway. When I'd add paint, the forms wouldn't be as defined and even if I knew nothing could be better than the actual picture, I felt like not painting it would eat me up inside.

I couldn't tell how long it took me but when I didn't stop until I was done. Normally, a painting like that could take me many days to create but somehow, it had turned out the way I wanted after only a few hours. I left it on the floor and decided to finally take an other shower, if only to take the paint from my hands, arms and face. I got out and quickly dressed before checking my phone. I had no message and I raised my nose up, telling myself they were probably busy skiing but I still decided to get downstairs, to the common living room. I loved how all the couches were placed with a fireplace in the middle. The first thing that made my heart jump in my chest was a laughter. I recognized it because I had to hear it for hours on a certain night and every time, it made my heart drop in my chest. Today was no exception. My eyes roamed around and found Abby who was laughing, throwing her head back. She was still wearing her beanie and coat and when I noticed Niall was the one she was talking with, I felt nauseous. He laughed too before taking a sip of his drink and Abby moved closer, placing her hand on his arm and letting it slip down.

I swallowed hard, knowing it probably meant nothing but telling myself that if this simple gesture made me feel like that, I'd never be able to be around Niall if he was dating an other girl, especially if that girl was Abby.

I held my breath and my lips parted when Niall turned around and our eyes met. I felt myself tear up and shook my head lightly before turning on my heels and leaving. I tried to keep my tears in, knowing it was ridiculous to be sad for that, and just as I was reaching the elevator, I felt his warm hand on my arm.

"Hey, Devie, where are you going?" he asked softly as I turned around. His face changed when he saw mine and took a step closer. "Woah, what's wrong, why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying!" I let out a bit too roughly, taking a step back. "I didn't want to annoy you while you were flirting with your ex girlfriend."

"Devie, we weren't flirting." he argued. "At least, I was not."

"She was all over you." I just replied.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "So? That's what Abby does! Besides, you're texting with Henry and I haven't thrown a tantrum about it!"

"I'm not texting with Henry, what are you talking about?"

"You told me he messaged you when we were at my apartment!" he pointed out, making me frown.

"Yes! But I never said I answered him!" I let out a but louder. "Because I didn't!"

His face changed, his traits softened and he took a step closer. "You didn't?"

His voice was low and gentle and it calmed me instantly.

"No. I want to move on from him, I don't love him anymore."

Once again, Niall took a step closer and took his beanie off. I felt my lips curl very slightly on the light at the sight of his hair and he quickly passed his hand in it, messing it even more. He looked so pretty I felt my head tilt a bit on the right.

"If... If it makes you feel better, I don't have feelings for Abby anymore either. I can't even understand why I ever was in love with her." he added with a shrug. "Not that you really care, because you don't love me like that, right?"

I stared at him and blinked a few times, trying to decide what I was supposed to say. I could be mad at him but I loved the way he was looking at me, as if I was the only person that mattered in the world, as if he was about to jump on me to make me feel all the damn feelings he had for me inside him.

"Did I say that?" I just asked with an amused smile before licking my lip, taking a step back.

"Hey, stay with us, we were about to go out for dinner." he quickly proposed as we heard the doors of the elevator open. "You came here to spend time with your friends, right?"

My eyes roamed on him and I finally nodded. "Alright."

----

Niall was still telling me a story when we walked back in our room. It was late but neither of us really cared. I had a small talk with Louis who presented me his new girlfriend Eleanor, and I immediately liked her. Lewis was funny and the way Daxia looked at him made me happy. I tried not to give too much attention to Noah but he still bought me a drink and we had a small chat. All I wanted, though, was to be close to Niall, and I ended up scared he'd be annoyed that I followed him better than his own shadow. At some point, he had placed his hand on my thigh, moving closer to me to ask me if I wanted an other drink, but all I could think about was the fact that he was touching me.

We didn't drink too much though and when we closed the door of our room behind us, I was laughing because he was funny, and not because I was tipsy. He turned around and took a few steps back as I followed him, but when his lips curled into a cheeky smile, it made me frown.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked, unable to stop smiling.

"Are you tired?"

I frowned more but it only made his smile bigger. "Mm, no. Why?"

"Do you trust me?"

That question took me by surprise but I didn't have to ask myself the question. The answer came naturally. "Yes."

And I trusted him. I trusted him more than I trusted pretty much anyone, and it was one of the things that scared me in this relationship, whatever it was.

"Thank you." he just whispered, holding out his hand to me.

I breathed in but still slipped my palm on his and quickly, he pulled me out of the room. Instead to take the elevators, he brought me to the stairs and we ran down until the main floor, stopping abruptly in front of a door. I held my breath as Niall opened it very slowly, peeking out for a few seconds and finally holding his hand back for me. I grabbed it and he turned around to look in my eyes, bringing his finger on his lips to tell me to keep quiet. I nodded and followed him on the other side of the door until we reached a second door. He tried to open it but groaned and raised his nose up when he realized it was locked.

"Fuck."

I moved to look through the window and my lips curled when I noticed a pool. The lights of the room were off but there were a few at the bottom of the pool and the sight was great.

"I'm gonna try to steal the keys." he added, taking me out of my thoughts and making me blink.

"No wait!" I stopped him in a whisper, holding his arm. "What if you get caught?"

He sent me a small smile and his eyes roamed on my face before he shook his head. "Don't worry."

He left and I felt my hand slip from his arm. I held my breath and remained motionless as I waited for him to come back and it seemed to take forever. When he appeared again, my heart jumped in my chest, scared that it could be someone else, but he stopped right in front of me as I raised my eyebrows. A smirk quickly draw itself on his lips and he moved his hand up, showing me a  keychain with at least 20 keys on it.

"Okay, I'm impressed." I admitted low, making him chuckle.

It took him a few tries and he finally unlocked the door. We walked in slowly and when he closed the door behind us, I turned around to look at him.

"I don't have a swimsuit." I admitted, tilting my head.

"You have underwear." he chuckled, making me raise my eyebrows. "What? Nothing I haven't seen, isn't it what you said the other day?"

I pressed my lips together and moved my chin in his direction. "You, first."

He chuckled again and without hesitation, grabbed the bottom of his shirt, moving it over his head. I let my eyes travel on his chest as he worked on the button and zipper of his jeans, finally taking them off along with his socks. He looked way too good, illuminated by the soft lights in the pool, and my heart skipped a beat. I moved my gaze up until my eyes met his again and he sent me a soft smile.

"Your turn."

[strange-lace]

Starsfic suggested the idea of Chimerashipping kidnapping, so...fluff 6 and 8 for that idea?

This prompt... gave me so much trouble for some reason. Honestly not really happy with the end result but whatever, posting it anyway!

“I promised to love you forever.” / “I’ll take care of you.”

In MK’s defense, what else was he supposed to think when he found himself getting kidnapped by Red Son and the demon only promising, “I’ll take care of you,” before tying him up in some magic rope that was unbreakable? 

Certainly not that he was going to be whisked away to a luxurious palace in Fiery Cloud Cave to apparently be courted by the demon! But that’s what happened and honestly… MK was starting to not completely hate the situation he was in.

Did it suck that he didn’t have his staff because Red Son had hidden it away? Oh absolutely!

But was it also nice being showered with affection by the same demon that he had developed a slight crush on since near the beginning? Also yes.

MK was also aware that this likely wasn’t going to last very long since eventually, someone was going to notice he had gone missing and would start searching for him. How long that would take was another story considering MK had little idea how far he was from the city but he also knew Mei had put a tracker on his phone just for this occasion.

“A penny for your thoughts, Noodle Boy?” MK jumped, interrupted from his thoughts by Red Son hugging his waist from behind and resting his chin on the crook of the other’s neck. “You’ve been staring at that blank canvas for nearly half an hour now. What’s troubling you?” The genuine concern in his tone made MK pause, putting down his paintbrush with a sigh.

“It’s just… you know that my family’s probably worried sick about me right? And that Mei’s probably- no, definitely, going to destroy you once she finds out?” MK asked, not sure if he’s more concerned for his loved ones or the demon’s safety once the consequences of his decision comes about. Which only made him more confused at the knowing smirk that Red Son gave him.

“That’s what I’m counting actually!”

A beat.

“What?” Red Son merely gave him a chuckle before taking his hand, spinning him around to lead him into an impromptu waltz.

“Well my courting plans aren’t complete after all without her here!” MK stumbled over his feet to match the demon’s footwork. “I knew if I grabbed one of you, the other wouldn’t be too far behind. And, well… I knew trying to kidnap her would be foolish.” They both shared a wince at the idea, remembering what happened to the last villain who thought taking Mei hostage was a good idea.

“Once I have you both here, then we truly begin the courting process,” Red Son promised as he carefully dipped his dance partner, pleased at how red MK’s face was. 

Though there was still a slight snag in everyone.

“Though it seems I’ll have to give your friend a little nudge in the right direction since I’d thought she’d be here by now to rescue you.”

“I’m warning you Red, this is a bad idea.”

“Oh hush, it’ll be perfectly fine, I’ve had all of this planned perfectly!” MK could only give the demon a look of skepticism but figured that he’d leave the demon to figure it out on his own. “I promise to love you both forever. And now I finally get the chance to show you both. But I will be back soon.”

Red Son gave him a wink.

“Don’t miss me too much, Noodle Boy.” And like that, he was gone in a whirlwind and smoke and flame.

MK only gave another sigh, slowly getting back to painting.

“Hopefully once this is over we can all actually go on a proper date. If Mei gives him mercy that is.”

[thestyleswritings]

Sweet Tooth

"So, why is it you're here?" You ask the brunette casually after taking a breath. Trying to play it cool by leaning back in your seat, nearly tipping yourself off of it. Luckily for you, the boy seems to have good reflexes, catching your arm before you could embarrass yourself further.

"Careful there, love. You'll hurt yourself." He says in a raspy baritone voice, steadying you before continuing, "I'm here because I've got a sweet tooth that can sometimes get me into trouble."

Or - The one where you meet Harry at the dentist’s office and things get sticky.

(4.3K) 

Warnings: Language, Smut

"You know you have to go to the dentist eventually, right?" Your friend Maggie chastises, fully aware of how truly dental-phobic you are and have always been.

 "I understand... But what if I just floss really well? Do I still have to go? Surely it cancels out." You try to negotiate with her, even though you know you'll just end up in the chair either way.

 "You're ridiculous, you know. Your appointment is at 4 and you'll be there whether you like it or not." Maggie rolls her eyes at you, turning her attention back to the flatscreen adorning the wall in her living room.

 "Think of it this way," she starts, sipping the iced coffee she had all but forgotten about, "the hygienist might be really hot."

 "Yeah, the 50-year-old woman that cleans my teeth is a dime." You snort, gathering your coat and bag before standing.

 "Anyways, I'd better be off. Wouldn't want to be late to my execution." You say over your shoulder, already halfway to the door. You only hear a scoff, but you assume if you turned to face your friend, you would've seen her roll her eyes at your dramatic tendencies.

—

 The train ride to the dentist's office did not take nearly as long as you'd hoped it would, leaving you with 30 minutes to spare before 4 came around. You saw this as either an opportunity to go window shopping very quickly or to sit in the waiting room to try and get comfortable with the atmosphere. You knew it was a bit ridiculous to be afraid to go to the dentist alone at the age of 21, but it was a legitimate fear for you! You'd been knicked as a child one too many times and it stuck with you ever since.

 By the time you decided to go upstairs, the waiting room was full of children, adults and elderly people. You didn't even know where to start looking for a seat. Your eyes scanned for a seat that wasn't directly next to someone, especially not the mum with vomit on the shoulder of her shirt, but alas there was no such luck. The only seat that semi appealed to you was directly next to a young man with messy brown hair - probably not far off your age - and he was so handsome, it made you nervous. He wore tan corduroy pants that were almost reminiscent of bellbottoms, a baby blue and white pinstriped button-up with the sleeves about a quarter of the way rolled up beneath a navy coloured cotton sweater vest that had what appeared to be sheep laced on the torso. The coat you assumed he wore here was shoved between himself and the armrest, one long sleeve perched on the chair aside him. He wore glasses low on the bridge of his nose, legs crossed and brows furrowed as he read, idle hand resting atop one of his black Vans. You squinted to see the cover of the book, seeing that it was Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami, one of your favourites. You wonder if it's also one of his, or if he's a first-time reader, but the thought is fleeting; your subconscious prying cut off by movement from the subject.

 He could probably feel your gaze on his figure, causing his eyes to snap up from the book perched in his lap to lock directly with your own. It's almost like he could feel how uncomfortable you were, standing off to the side next to the coat rack and magazine table. Almost like he couldn't help himself from asking you to sit down wordlessly by moving his long dark coat from drooping onto the seat beside his very own, then faintly nodding to it.

 You could feel your throat swell as you walked to him, praying to any god willing to listen that you wouldn't trip on your own feet or snag your knee on the coffee table. You were notorious for being a bit clumsy. You noticed, as you got closer, the intensity of his stare. The green of his eyes nearly causing your breath to catch at the back of your throat.

 Taking a seat, you move your canvas bag to your lap before slightly facing him. You didn't know the proper etiquette for things like this. Should you have just ignored him after you sat, or do you carry on with a conversation? You raise your gaze once again to look him in the eyes, and unlike moments earlier, he had already been looking at you. Your bottom lip gets caught beneath your upper front teeth, biting the soft flesh to keep in a gasp. He was truly a specimen up close, and you wanted nothing more at that moment than the ability to freeze time, just to get a longer look at him without being caught.

"So, why is it you're here?" You ask the brunette casually after taking a breath. Trying to play it cool by leaning back in your seat, nearly tipping yourself off of it. Luckily for you, the boy seems to have good reflexes, catching your arm before you could embarrass yourself further.

 "Careful there, love. You'll hurt yourself." He says in a raspy baritone voice, steadying you before continuing, "I'm here because I've got a sweet tooth that can sometimes get me into trouble."

 He must know how that sounded.

 "I'm uh, I'm just here for a cleaning and some x-rays." You wince at the words that pass your lips, cringing at the thought that soon someone would come and call your name, leading you into that room which has a smell you nary forget.

 The boy laughs, clearly both hearing and seeing your distaste at the thought. You forego being annoyed at his mocking and leap straight to intrigue. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the faint scrunch of his nose, the way his head tilted just the slightest bit backwards. It all pulled you in and refused to let you go.

 "Tha's not too bad, y'know. I have to get one of my teeth drilled into." He says like it's just a minor inconvenience. You can practically feel the blood drain from your face. Drill!? Like a fucking construction site!?

 He laughs again, this time shaking his hair away from his eyes afterwards. "I have a cavity. I told you, the sweet tooth gets me into trouble." He tells you, and you could swear he winked.

 "I thought you were using a pun as a pickup line." You say before you can stop yourself, preparing yourself for him to look back at you like you were some delusional weirdo.

 "It might've had a dual purpose, yeah." He smirks, a deep dimple making itself known on the side of his face. As if he could become more attractive. It almost makes you want to roll your eyes.

 "Alright. So, the book. You enjoying it? It's one of my favourites." You tell him, gesturing towards the book, now closed.

 "Weird way to phrase it. The book is kinda dark, wouldn't you say?" He counters, resting his elbow on his knee before placing his palm on his face. Fully engaging you in conversation now.

 "Hell yeah. But it's so beautifully written and so gripping. Is this your first read?" You wonder aloud.

 "I keep it on rotation. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion and Marie Kondo's The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up seem to wind up in that rotation too. Sometimes I throw in Love Is A Mixtape from Rob Sheffield if I'm feeling particularly mushy. You?" He tugs his lip in thought, awaiting your reply.

 "I love Marie Kondo. She's the only reason I keep my apartment tidy. I love basically any book, but I keep It's Kind of A Funny Story on my bedside table at all times. I'm drawing a blank right now, but my bookshelf gets proper attention, I swear." You laugh, triggering his own to bubble up from his throat.

 "So wha's your name, sweetheart?" He asks, and you nearly don't tell him. The sound of the nickname falling from his lips is too tempting to ignore.

 "Mhm... You first." You challenge, squinting as if daring him to inquire again before answering you.

 "M'Harry. Friends call me H. You can call me when I get outta here at 5:30 to have coffee at my place." He smiles. You'd usually get up and sit somewhere else, with the puke stained mum for instance, but your legs won't allow it. And why should they? What's the problem with entertaining this pretty, pretty man?

 "I preferred the sweet tooth comment, personally, but I won't prosecute you for that stinker." Playfully tutting before actually telling him your name. He says it under his breath as if testing the way it felt on his tongue before smiling again.

 “Well, I wasn’t joking, I’d actually like to have you over for coffee if you’d like. I promise I’m not a weird pervert. I can even tell my roommate to come home early if it makes you feel better.” Harry fumbled with his words, further endearing you. You snort a laugh at his phrasing before nodding your head.

“You don’t have to call your roommate, I’m sure you’re not a murderer. Anyway, my friend has my location on so she’ll know exactly where to send the cops in the event I turn up missing.” You gest, nudging his forearm with your elbow.

—

 You didn't know how you'd ended up in this situation. In the hour and a half it took for Harry's appointment to be completed, you walked around aimlessly talking to Maggie- or frantically shouting if you asked Maggie- about what steps to take from here. You had actually been so caught up in this whole "date" ordeal that the teeth cleaning breezed by. She snorted a laugh at your obvious hesitation, knowing this wasn't very "you". You weren't usually the type to even accept compliments, but here you were, ready to risk it all for a man you'd met a mere 120 minutes ago.

 "But what if he's a player? What do I do then?" You'd asked, answered yet again with a snort.    "You fuck him and forget it. It happens all the time. It's just a bit of good fun." Maggie reassured you. To her, a casual 6 o'clock shag was nothing out of the ordinary.    Pacing around Fifth Avenue, you awaited a text. A simple "hey" to set your anxieties through the roof. Anything. You just wanted to be out of your misery already.    It wasn't like you'd never done this before, or even that you'd only done it a handful of times, but something about the prospect of hooking up with a boy from your dentist's office felt strange. Did people meet their soul mates this way, or was this really an odd thing? Don't people usually meet in clubs and bars? There's hardly anything sexy about having your teeth scraped and drilled into. Maybe you could spin an innuendo out of that if you tried. The moment your phone buzzed, you couldn't help the squeal that passed your lips.

H 127 W4th Street, Apartment 3F

—

 You'd only gone over for a coffee and a chat, honestly. So how you ended up with Harry's lips attached to your neck, you hadn't the fuzziest clue. If you were being honest, it was more on you than him.

 "So you've got a sweet tooth." You say, smirking from behind the brim of the mug as you watched him take a sip from his own.    "Ah, the rumours are true." He tuts, taking a sip of the black coffee.

 "But your coffee is black, and you didn't put any sugar in it." You point out, deadpan.

 "Doesn't mean I'm not naughty sometimes." He's talking about the sugar, you know he is. But his eyes are telling you he wants to go further into the discussion. Taunting, almost.

 "Prove it."

 So that's how you'd ended up here, really. With your fists scrunching up his baggy striped shirt, both of your breath becoming shallower and shallower as your lips smacked together. He had taken off the vest before you'd arrived, you noticed in your slight haze. His kisses trailed from your lips to your cheek, from your cheek to your jaw, then your neck. Each touch of his wet lips leaving a lingering buzz to your skin. He pulled away from your neck momentarily, breathing heavily before biting onto his own bottom lip.

 "You wanna...?" Harry trailed off, chest rising and falling noticeably, lips shining under his dim room light. You saw his eyes flick towards a door to the left of you both. You could feel your heart drop to your stomach, or rather, beneath your bellybutton. You know the feeling well. At that moment, you decide to throw caution to the wind. Who's to say this wasn't the time to sew your wild oats, so to speak?

 "You asking if I want a shag?" You smirk back at him. He really wasn't as scary as he seemed at first. He actually seemed to be your equal; nervously navigating life with a bit of sarcasm and a dash of wit.

 "You're mad. But yes." Harry laughs in bemusement. Perhaps he had pegged you for shier than you appeared now. Not that he'd complain.

 The two of you stand, Harry quickly grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles before pulling you towards the closed door.

 "I er- obviously wasn't expecting a bird over after the doctors visit, so my rooms in shambles at the moment, sorry." He admits sheepishly. You just raised one shoulder in a shrug in response, giggling at the way his cheeks dusted rosy pink and the way he pronounced the word obviously. Obvioushry.

 Stepping inside, you see that he was massively overexaggerating. There were a few fun coloured tops on the ground in a heap, accompanied by another small pile of trousers and jeans. Clearly, he'd meant to do the washing up when he came home, but not everything always goes according to plan. You certainly didn't expect this either.

 Your thoughts are instantly placed aside as you felt two strong hands on either of your hips and the steady stream of breath upon your neck, soft lips dragging along the surface there. You roll your head to the side to grant him more of a canvas to paint his wet kisses, subtly pushing your behind into him. The groan that vibrates your skin tells you that he felt it. More gracefully than you'd ever be able to manage, your top is removed from your body by the man behind you in a flash.

 "Le's get comfortable, yeah? You'll be here a while." The gruff tone of his voice so near to your ear excites you, sending a shiver down the column of your spine. As you sit on his bed, you raise your gaze to observe him. A tall, gangly thing, but somehow solid and muscular simultaneously. His nimble fingers are quick to undo the buttons of the shirt adorning his torso, revealing intricate artwork penned on his skin. From where you sat, you could see two birds, a butterfly and a birdcage. You wondered what moved him to get these particular pieces.  

"You'll have to excuse me if 'm a bit rubbish, it's been ages," Harry laughs pathetically, capturing his bottom lip once again beneath his endearingly large front teeth. You don't even get a moment to react as he lunges forth, cementing your lips together in a harsh kiss that does little to undo the ball of tension you've felt building since you'd arrived. You feel the weight of his groin pressed against your own, slowly rocking back and forth, side to side. The pressure is delicious and you can't remember the last time you'd felt this exhilarated thanks to another person.

 His lips detach from your own again, opting to kiss your exposed chest instead, grabbing the cup of your bra before looking to you with pleading eyes. Begging to see you in nothing but his embrace. The granting nod of your head is slight, but he notices. He pulls the cup down with no trouble, laying the thick of his tongue against your areola, lapping it around the area like he was trying to lick up all the frosting from a cupcake.

 You felt dizzy as he began to suck on it, a moan being ripped from the pit of your chest. The noise seemed to spur Harry on, biting down softly before kissing down from your chest to your midsection, only stopping to peer up at you. Making sure you were still all in and just as eager as he was. The rational part of your brain knew where he was trailing his kisses. You knew he fully intended to put his mouth to good use, but it didn't stop your mind from the nervous thoughts it was producing.

 "You want me to prove I've got a sweet tooth, angel? I'll prove it to ya," Harry says, breath shallow in pure excitement. If the situation weren't so filthy, you'd think it wholesome. A kiss is pressed to your upper thigh, causing your muscles to clench and your breathing to halt. You could feel each breath that passed through his nostrils, washing over the delicate plush skin it hit.

 Harry took not a second to prepare for you, instead just peeling the pink lace from your behind and tossing them to the corner of his room. He stopped your legs from closing, taking a moment to peer between your legs where you were no doubt dripping for him. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't so eager, but from the way his nostrils flare and his eyes darken, you can tell he may not mind it.

 "Looks sweet, y'know," he breathes, warm breath now coating you in the most sinfully delightful way. You look down at him fast enough to catch his tongue leave his mouth to find your centre, immediately causing your body to tense. He started slowly at first, giving you a deep kiss between your legs before beginning to stroke his tongue against your clit in quick succession. It was mind-blowing, how quickly you felt yourself unravel. Your eyes wanted to clench shut desperately, but your mind wouldn't allow it. You couldn't possibly tear your eyes from the sight of the lower half of Harry's face pressed flat against your aching cunt, licking sucking and nibbling to his heart's content. His strong hands gripping your hips in an attempt to steady your rocking body. Your moans picked up with his rhythm, hand sneaking down to grasp his long locks between your fingers.

 "Harry, ungh, I'm gonna, uh! Fuck," you cried, tried warning him of your imminent end, but your voice just wouldn't allow it. You could faintly feel Harry moving the mattress with his quick ruts to the bed in search of some form of release, groaning and moaning against your sensitive skin.

 "C'mon then, lovie. Tastes so good, want more," He coaxes, voice deeper than it had been when he'd spoken earlier. He shook his tongue against you, releasing one of his hands from your hip to slide a finger into you, curving once he'd buried it as far as you'd permit. He removed it before twirling it back in, swivelling it in a circular motion and repeating. The combination of his wicked tongue, finger and moans had you coming to your end and had Harry lapping it up like a dog in heat.

 "God! Harry," You moaned loudly, holding tighter onto his hair. You knew you ought to ease up a bit, but he continued driving his finger in and out of you, nearly making you lose your mind. He was groaning against you, tongue never letting up until you'd finally had enough, pulling your legs together and pushing his head away.

 "Told ya I have a sweet tooth. I reckon I'll have you over at least once a week, if you'll let me." He smirks cheekily from the end of the bed, swiping the back of his hand across his chin to rid himself of your slick. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Instead of speaking, you reach down to grab at his shoulder, weakly attempting to pull him up the bed. He chuckles at your feeble try, accommodating you by dragging himself up to your face, kissing your nose gingerly.

 "Please Harry, I-" You didn't want to seem desperate, but at the moment, you felt terribly empty and you wanted him to just get on with it. You could feel the heavy length of him sat right on your clit, the corduroy material of his pants giving a certain friction that was fulfilling, but not entirely.

 "M' mouth wasn't enough, pet? Want more? Want me to stuff ya full?" He murmurs the filthy words against your skin, nipping at it every once in a while. You nod so vigorously he's afraid your head will fall to the ground. With another deep chuckle, he places a soft kiss to the crown of your head as he reaches to his bedside table for a condom.

 "Sure about this? I can just wank off if you don't wanna," Harry reassures her, fidgeting with the foil packaging. You can't help but press a firm kiss to the beauty mark by his lip, giggling at his words.

 "Yeah, I'm sure. Don't make me beg for it." You plead, fully aware that you'd beg in a heartbeat if it meant you could see this pretty boy in such a vulnerable state. He didn't have to know that, though.

 He nodded before unwrapping the plastic sheath, unravelling it on himself before giving himself a few purposeful tugs. The tension of his bicep and the soft grunts causing you to ache for him. He guides himself down to where he knows you're ready to take him, locking eyes with yours once more before shoving his hips forward. He didn't stop until he was bottomed out, heavy balls resting atop your behind. The initial push had you both reeling; clenched eyes and furrowed brows as you both adjusted to the new feeling. You'd never been with anyone bigger, and he could've sworn he'd never felt such a warm, wet, inviting cunt in his life. He could've blown his load right then.

  "God, princess. You've got the tightest little pussy, haven't you?" He was egging you on, wanting you to become more vocal. Dying to hear the strain in your voice, fully fucked out. You whimper in reply, jutting your hips up into his to get him to move. Your motion caught him off guard, causing the muscles in his stomach to become taught as he groaned.

 "Gotta warn a lad if you're gonna move, lovie. Nearly nutted off." Harry breathed a laugh before pulling his hips back halfway, slowly inching himself back in. You'd never felt such pleasure from such minimal movement, but the way he was digging into you had you breathless in no time.

 "Good, so so good," you panted out, gripping his shoulders tightly as if you'd float away otherwise. Both of your bodies were working together like a well-manufactured machine, pushing and pulling in the best ways.

 "Yeah? You like it slow, then? Like it when you can feel me here?" Harry boasted, pressing his large palm on your tummy just below your belly button. The next thrust he delivered made you scream out involuntarily, backing up towards the top of the bed. You hadn't expected to feel him brush against the palm of his own hand, but the added pressure set you off, rolling your eyes backwards and crying out in pure bliss.

 "Fuck, keep sayin' my name, lovie. Neighbours'll hear me giving you a proper fucking shag," He groaned, picking up the pace minutely, holding onto your hip with his free hand. "Don't run from it, darlin, take me. Fucking feel me," you could tell he was losing himself, slowly beginning to babble incoherently. You felt a surge of arousal at the fact you had this stranger in such a state.

 "Harry, I'm gonna fucking come again," you moaned loudly, upon his request but mainly because you really couldn't help yourself. Your moans were becoming higher pitched and more frequent, and you could tell it was feeding Harry's ego very well, fueling his own end.

 "Yeah? G'na come for me again? G'na let me feel it?" He grunted, bottoming out and swivelling his pelvis atop your own, pubis rubbing against your already overstimulated clit. That, in combination with his gruff voice and the sweat dripping off his own body onto yours, finished you off, clenching your core down onto his stiff prick deep within you, throwing your head back in defeat. You let the overwhelming pleasure course through your veins, bucking your hips blindly into his and mutter his name repeatedly.

 Seeing your beautiful face screwed up in pleasure whilst you whined and moaned that he was so good really did Harry in. In fact, a particularly filthy cry of his name is what did it for Harry, spewing all the spunk he was worth into the latex. His body folded, narrowly missing your body as he collapsed onto his Queen sized mattress, a sweaty and exhausted mess.

It took the pair of you a couple of minutes to catch your breath before either of you spoke. You thought he may never say anything, but as he lifted his head from your breasts to make eye contact with you, you smirked.

 "Think I can convince you to stay the night?" He asked dreamily, a glint in his eye. And really, how could you refuse?

--

This is my first published work, so please be kind to her!! I worked on it for quite a while, so feedback is always appreciated!

[yoon-kooks]

Witch Hazel- Pt.5

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

-

“So are you in, Jimin?”

“I’m in,” he chuckles at your little proposal. His laugh retains its charm, even through the phone. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little jealous of that charming quality of his. “But can I ask you something, Snow?”

“Go for it.”

“Why me?”

“To prove a point,” you say. “You also have something to prove, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up at my concert that night despite being well aware of how the public and media would react.”

“Right… Sorry about that, by the way.” You hear the sorrow still beating him up in his lowered voice. It makes sense that he feels the need to blame himself for all the backlash you received, but he shouldn’t have to feel guilty when all he wanted was a little freedom as a normal human being and not as the perfect idol the world makes him out to be.

“It’s fine, Jimin. We may be glorified idols at the top of the industry, but there are a lot of things we have no control over.”

“True… Sometimes it seems like the only way to escape the judgment of the public eye is to hide behind a mask, huh.” Jimin sighs. “But we can’t always live like that either.”

“Exactly.”

After hanging up, you toss your phone aside and pick up your guitar.

-

On your way to class, you’ve made a habit of checking jk.seagull’s blog for any updates on Witch Hazel, and you’re delighted when you find this new text post:

“it’s not done yet, but I’m planning on posting a new chapter this afternoon after class!”

To celebrate the occasion, you stop by your local coffee shop to pick up a special mocha with extra whipped cream. You’re already late for class after failing to hear your five alarms this morning anyway. And besides, maybe you deserve a little pick-me-up after all the writing you’d done the night before. For once, you feel pretty good about the direction you’re headed in.

Not even a scolding by your professor could ruin your mood.

“Oh, Y/N. How nice of you to join us,” your professor motions for you to take your seat as soon as you step foot into the art room. “I was just talking about how certain students have not been taking this class seriously as of late.”

She glances directly at you, along with your tablemates, Taehyung and Jungkook. “Sorry,” you mouth with a lack of sincerity, before taking a long sip of your mocha.

“And because of that,” the professor continues, “I’ve decided to move up the due date of our portrait project to tomorrow.”

A collective groan fills the room from the entire class, with the exception of those few lucky bastards who’ve already completed their project early. Once the class is dismissed, the scramble to actually get shit done begins. Even Taehyung opts to stick around as opposed to his usual obligations, and that speaks volumes.

As soon as your team relocates to one of the empty art studios nearby, however, it’s apparent that no one is really vibing with this project.

“So… what’s the assignment again?” Taehyung scratches his head. As much as you’d love to scold the boy for his lack of awareness of anything happening in art class, you haven’t been in the proper mindset to give the project any thought either.

“Something about drawing ourselves based on how others perceive us?” Jungkook yawns. “Or was it drawing each other’s portrait?”

“The first one, I think,” you say. “It doesn’t really make a difference when Jungkook’s gonna end up drawing Taehyung’s portion anyway.”

“True,” the boys say together. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your art class shenanigans, it’s that the more you get to know someone, the easier it is to understand them and their actions—even if they’re completely different from you like Taehyung.

“If that’s the case, let’s hurry up and let each other know how we perceive one another. I have a doubleheader later on that I’d really hate to miss,” Taehyung nods in satisfaction at his clever wording for what you presume to be back-to-back one night stands. “I’ll start: Y/N, there’s not much I know about you besides the fact that you’re unfriendly, but I think that’s intentional. Like you’re hiding a dark secret or something. Jungkook, if you weren’t so shy, I’m sure you’d get laid more often.”

“Let’s not sugarcoat anything,” you roll your eyes. “I would say you, Taehyung, abuse your charm to get what you want. You use sleeping around as an excuse to avoid responsibility. And you embrace it because you fear that that’s the only thing people will ever acknowledge you for.”

“I’m not usually a masochist, but I kind of like it when you roast me like that, Y/N,” Taehyung shrugs it off, though you know you’ve hit the mark. Everyone has a poker face, and Kim Taehyung is no exception. To take the attention off of himself, he throws an arm around his favorite art buddy. “Roast this guy next.”

You glance over at Jungkook who’s in the midst of adding to your roast on Taehyung. It’s interesting to see how differently he acts with Taehyung, with you, and with everyone else. The more he knows someone, the less he withholds. If he knew you more, you wonder what he’d tell you. “I agree that if Jungkook weren’t so shy, there’d be more potential for a lot of things, but-”

Buzz! Taehyung looks down at his phone. “Well, that’s my cue. Jungkook, Y/N, you know what to do~”

“Have fun at your doubleheader,” you wave off your incompetent teammate until he’s out of sight. “Should we be enabling him like this?”

“Probably not. But even I can’t say no to that charm of his.” Jungkook sighs as he pulls out a blank sheet of bristol paper. In what feels like an instant, several dots and lines transform into a general outline of Taehyung’s face. “I’m surprised you haven’t fallen for his charm yet… unless…?”

“Look, I get the appeal of a smoothtalker who walks with confidence, but Taehyung really isn’t my type,” you laugh.

“Still, I’m a little envious of him.” Jungkook draws Taehyung a nice and natural wink. “Because he isn’t afraid to chase after what he wants.”

You want to tell the boy that he should chase after whatever it is he wants, but you know that’s easier said than done. After all, you know exactly how it feels to take that leap of faith, only to fall short before reaching the dream you so desired. So all you can do is nod and start working on your own portrait.

For about five whole minutes, you try to sketch out a decent upside-down egg shape for your head, but it always comes out a little lopsided or rough around the edges. Once you’ve got a little mountain of eraser shaving piling up, you decide it’s time to sneak a peek at Jungkook’s sketch to get an idea of how a well-seasoned artist draws a proper face.

What you see instead, however, is the boy staring back at your mountain of eraser shavings. You swear you hear a little pft come out of his mouth. The nerve.

“Hold your pencil like this,” he says, holding his own pencil with his pinky sticking out.

You replicate his grip, wiggling the pinky. “Is this some sort of weird pinky promise that artists do?”

Before Jungkook can even respond, your pinky is already linked to his. Funny how his finger curled around yours as if it were the most normal thing to do, but his burning cheeks say otherwise. You might’ve jumped the gun on this one.

After blinking at the empty pinky promise for a good three seconds, the boy finally lets go. “Use that pinky to steady your hand as you sketch.”

“Oh… right…” You feel a wildfire spreading across your own cheeks. Your dumbass somehow misinterpreted a drawing technique for something as childish as a pinky promise! Whether it’s because you’re flustered or just shitty at art, you fumble around to get your pencil on the paper. “…How do I do it again?”

Rather than trying to explain or demonstrate it to you, Jungkook motions for you to come closer. So you do. He takes your hand and individually sets each finger onto your pencil like a guitar teacher helping their student find the right chord position.

You’re pleasantly surprised by how gentle his touch is. Rather than forcing your fingers to conform to the conventional ways of an artist, he gives them the little push they need to find their own place along the length of the pencil—wherever is most comfortable for you.

Once you’ve got a good grip, Jungkook guides your pencil back to the canvas with your pinky just barely touching the drawing surface. “Now try drawing the outline of your face again.”

You do as you’re told and see immediate results. Although it’s not a perfect egg, your lines are noticeably smoother as if your skin had just been cleared. Jungkook gives you and your improved egg a thumbs-up, which you return with a thumbs-up of your own.

As you both resume your portraits, you can’t help but wonder if it was the tiny adjustment of how you held your pencil that made the difference. Or if it was Jeon Jungkook himself. You suppose only time will tell.

Several hours later, Jungkook has finished Taehyung’s portrait, you still need to color yours in, and an announcement goes off through the intercom.

“Due to the art auction charity event tonight, this building will be closing in ten minutes. Thank you.”

You groan. This is the worst case scenario for your damn group project. Because if you’re kicked out of the studio, you won’t have access to all of the necessary art supplies.

Unless…?

You exchange glances with the most devoted artist you know.

-

Jungkook’s apartment is not exactly how you imagined a weeby Snow stan’s habitat to look. There’s not a trace of Snow, nor is there a hint of magic anime girls floating around. But the one thing you did correctly predict is the amount of art scattered across the boy’s room.

Everywhere you look, you’re blown away by something different from the last. A painted city landscape detailed enough to be mistaken for an actual photo, a busy abstract pattern that makes the little wheels in your head spin, the familiar animation booklet of the flower in the snow, and an interesting little doodle that doesn't seem to scream “college art project”.

You try to make sense of what appears to be the chaos that ensues when the worlds of mathematics and music collide. Half of the basic times tables chart is replaced with values represented by music notes. The math nerd in you laughs when you see that a sixteenth note is correctly placed where two quarter notes align. Similarly, the music sheet on the other side of the doodle has a time signature of “75%” aka ¾ time aka the rhythm of a waltz.

“How old were you when you drew this one?” You point to the artwork titled Math Musician written in tiny font at the bottom corner next to the boy’s initials.

Jungkook chuckles, probably out of embarrassment. “I think I was ten.”

“Imagine being a talented artist at age ten. Can’t relate,” you clown yourself as you pull out your unfinished portrait from your art bag. In addition to looking “unfriendly”, your drawn face is rather lifeless and more so demonic for some reason. Hopefully some color will bring more dimension and life back into your flesh.

Just then, you realize you’ve made a fatal mistake.

“Umm, Jungkook?” you continue to stare down at your mistake. “I forgot to factor in your opinion of me into my portrait and now I just look unfriendly like Taehyung said.”

Jungkook tilts his head to get a better look at your monstrosity. His reaction could go one of three ways: he could laugh and give you a hard time about it, he could help you find a solution, or he could do both.

“You definitely nailed the ‘unfriendly’ part,” he snickers. “The RBF is strong with this one.”

“So you agree that I’m unfriendly?” On one hand, that would be good because you won’t have to revise your portrait if Jungkook shares the same opinion as Taehyung. On the other hand, you don’t want Jungkook to have that opinion of you.

“Not necessarily,” he says. “I think if people looked beyond your unfriendly demeanor, they’d find someone very different.”

Before you can ask the boy to elaborate, he has already left and come back with the solution to your problem: fancy coloring markers.

“Since you already drew your appearance based on Taehyung’s opinion, you can color it in based on my opinion, if that makes it easier.” Jungkook hands you an assortment of markers, though a large portion of them are just different shades of one color in particular. Yellow.

Yellow was the last color you were expecting. You expected cooler and darker tones like blues or greys to match your ice queen personality. But yellow? Yellow, to you, has always meant bright and happy.

“Yellow is a happy color, isn’t it?” You start swatching each shade of yellow to see how they translate onto a white canvas. Your favorite shade out of the bunch is the soft pale one called Banana Milk, but that still doesn’t mean it suits you. To prove your point, you hold up your unfriendly demon portrait to your actual face and pout. “Do either of these faces look happy to you, Jungkook?”

“No, but they do look silly.” The boy cracks a smile at your humor. “In a good way.” The way he smiles so brightly plants a dangerous little seed in your head. Maybe the yellow is meant to represent not how he perceives your feelings, but rather, how he perceives his own feelings for you.

-

By the time evening comes, you’ve shaded in every inch of your canvas, completing your portion of the portrait project. You were right—the bright colors really did help bring life back into your face, and there’s less of a demonic aura about it now.

It also looks like one big contradiction: an unfriendly-looking face with a cheerful brightness around it. But that’s probably what Jungkook was referring to when he said you were very different beneath your unfriendly mask.

As you stretch out your arms and yawn, you peek over at the boy’s progress with his portrait. He stares down at his markers scattered across the floor, pushing his long locks out of his eyes, in search of his next color. From the small portion that he has colored so far, you notice a big difference between his portrait and yours. While your color scheme is bright and flashy like a star, Jungkook’s is soft and subtle to mimic his shy and lowkey personality.

“Use this,” you toss him the Banana Milk marker and pull a scrunchie off your wrist, “and this too.”

Jungkook places the pale yellow marker down right on the area he’ll color next. He doesn’t, however, know what to do with the foreign hair accessory in his palm. He just blinks at it.

With a dramatic sigh, you join the boy on the floor and take back the scrunchie. Like a puppy with long bangs poking its eyes, he lets you comb your fingers through his hair before tying a tiny sprout on top of his head.

“So this is what the world looks like,” he nods, as if his long hair had greatly hindered his view of the world in front of him. At the same time, he spots the finished product of your portrait. “Your self-portrait is a lot different from how I would draw you.”

“I would’ve appreciated a compliment for my hard work, but go ahead and insult me, Jeon.” You square up.

“Oh sorry. You did a phenomenal job, Y/N.” He doesn’t even try to put effort into masking his sarcasm as pity praise. But that’s expected in how he hasn’t missed a single opportunity to tease you and your shitty art. “It’s just interesting how differently others interpret us from how we interpret ourselves.”

Now you’re curious. “How would you draw me then?”

“You want to see?” Jungkook pushes his own portrait aside and starts digging around for a sketchbook with a blank page to spare. What possesses him to prioritize a drawing of you before his own portrait that’s due in less than 24 hours? You won’t allow that.

“I want to see it after our project is finished, please,” you pull his unfinished portrait back in front of him before making yourself comfy on the boy’s bed. “In the meantime, I’ll be reading you-know-what.”

“Smut?” The boy has a dirty mind, it seems.

“Unless Witch Hazel plans on getting a little smutty, no, I will not be reading smut.” With a hmph, you scroll through jk.seagull’s blog. “I wonder if the new chapter is posted yet.”

Jungkook, too, picks up his phone with wide eyes when he hears you say “new chapter”. Your hype and excitement around the fanfic must be rubbing off on him.

But unfortunately for you, there is no new post since the one you saw before class. You make a sad booboo face, but it isn’t the end of the world either. You’ll just have to reread the series from the beginning as you wait for either Witch Hazel to be updated or Jungkook to finish the project. Whichever happens first.

“Wait, I think the seagull guy just posted something.”

You’ve never jumped onto your phone so quick when Jungkook mentions the seagull guy. It isn’t a new chapter of Witch Hazel, but instead another small text post.

“sorry for not updating witch hazel today like i said i would!! i was bombarded with an unexpected art assignment;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;”

Your sad booboo face disappears. It seems you’re not the only one struggling to find balance between the arts and the need to satisfy others. “Isn’t it funny that he’s an art student too?”

“Haha, yeah…” Jungkook’s voice fades as he returns to his portrait.

“Maybe that’s why I like his work so much,” you say, clicking back to the very first chapter of Witch Hazel where Snow is helping out those who she had unintentionally scared away with her witchcraft. “He just gets it.”

“He gets what?”

With the biggest yawn, you shrug because you don’t really know how to put it into words. It just feels as though you and him think alike. And the thought of that is comforting enough to put you to rest until Jungkook finishes up the project.

“Y/N.” You hear things shuffling around in your half-asleep state. When you rise from mysterious pile of blankets on top of you, you see Jungkook putting his art supplies away and clearing space on the floor for him to camp out since you’ve apparently claimed his bed.

“Did you finish?” You check the time in the dimly lit room, and you’re shocked to see it’s past midnight.

“Yeah.” He pulls your scrunchie out of his hair and drops it into your palm. “Thank you for your service.”

“Keep it.” You slide the hair tie onto the boy’s wrist when you notice he looks a little different somehow. The hoodie he was wearing earlier is replaced with a plain white tee, and his torn jeans have become grey sweatpants. The unspoken reality of you stay over at the boy’s apartment is slowly becoming realized. “In exchange, I’d like to see how you’d draw me.”

“Already done,” he says, jogging to his desk and back to you with a page from his sketchbook in hand. “I drew you as a superhero.”

“What kind of superhero?” You kick the blankets off of you and reach for the drawing, but of fucking course, Jungkook pulls it back real quick just when you were about to snatch it. “Let me see!”

He keeps it hidden behind his back for a while until he gets a little too cocky and dangles it above where you’re sitting on the bed. It would be too predictable for you to reach for the hand with drawing in it, so you decide to aim for the other arm to trap him in.

But rather than latching onto his arm, you catch only a piece of the scrunchie around his wrist, causing you both to lose balance. Your back hits the soft bedding as you stare up into the eyes of the boy who just so happened to land on top of you. Aha, you finally figure out why he looked a little different after you woke up. No glasses, just his handsome brown eyes.

You’d give yourself a pat on the back for figuring that out if you weren’t distracted by the drawing of you as a “superhero”. You were expecting something tough like the Avengers or Sailor Moon or even Izuku Midoriya. But instead you see someone who looks very much like yourself with a guitar and yellow flower crown.

“That’s not a superhero,” you say quietly.

“There are people who would feel otherwise.” Jungkook plops down next to you on his stomach.

“Like who?”

“Like people you share your music with.”

You bite your lip before rolling off the bed to run and get something. When you hop back onto the bed, you drop a pencil into Jungkook’s hand make him hold it with his pinky out like he had shown you earlier. You do the same with another pencil and link your pinky to his once more.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

[vanillacaramelhoney]

Oh My God, they were Roommates (1/6)

Pairing(s): Eleven x Reader

Chapter Summary: Jane and YN learn a bit about each other, and Julia checks in.

Warning(s): None

A/N: In this, Hopper isn’t fucking dead and Jopper is C A N O N. Enjoy.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

December 20th, 1991

YN found herself staring at a blank canvas that sat on her easel.

The girl laid on her stomach on her bed. Her mind was trying to think of something to do for her project, but it was drawing a hard blank. Maybe she really would paint Julia.

With a sigh, YN rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She messed with the hem of the oversized shirt she wore as pajamas.

Her head lolled to the side to check the clock on her nightstand- 9:38 a.m.

The rink would be open, and because it was so early, there wouldn't be as many people.

Making up her mind, YN rolled off of her bed and quickly changed. She left her room and headed down the short hall to the living room-kitchen combo, but paused at the corner.

She got a side view of Jane, who sat on the couch, watching her usual rom-com. She cuddled up in a pile of blankets, and her hair was pulled back into one of the messiest ponytails YN had ever seen. Still, the girl looked rather bored.

With sudden confidence, YN spoke up. "Jane?" She looked up at her, eyes wide with interest. "I was going to go to the ice rink if you wanted to join me?" YN leaned against the wall.

"'Ice rink?'" Jane asked.

"You know, to ice skate?" YN clarified but was still met with the same look of confusion. "Have you never been ice skating?"

"I don't know what ice skating is," Jane admitted.

YN paused for a moment, pondering what to do. She stood up straight. "Why don't you get dressed and come with me, then? I can teach you."

Jane smiled shyly, and nodded.

YN smiled as she watched her stand and head past her to her room. While she waited, YN put her boots on.

Jane quickly returned, changed.

"Ready?" Jane nodded. "Alright, let's go. I hope you don't mind walking. It's not too far."

They grabbed their winter gear before heading out.

The two walked in silence with YN leading the way. The snow had stopped late into the night, but there was still plenty of snow left everywhere. The roads and sidewalks had luckily been cleared.

It didn't take them long to arrive at the rink. Just as YN suspected, there were only a few other people.

YN couldn't help but find the look of curiosity on Jane's face adorable. YN chuckled as her eyes scanned the area before landing on YN.

"Still wanna do this?" Jane nodded.

With YN's help, they picked out their skates and slipped them on.

Jane stumbled as she tried to stand in them. YN quickly helped her balance.

"Balancing will be a little hard at first, but I'm sure you'll be able to catch on quickly," YN assured her. She helped the girl onto the ice. "Hold onto the side for a bit of balance." Jane didn't hesitate to do as told. She managed to balance once again.

"Do you do this often? You seem to know what you're doing," Jane asked.

"I skated a lot as a kid," YN explained. "Now, I mostly do it around this time of year."

"So, what do I do know?"

"You just kind of," YN paused, "slide, or scoot on your feet." Her nose scrunched up. "Sorry, I'm not very good at explaining things." Jane looked up at her, amused.

Jane kept a good grip on the railing but tried moving forward. YN stayed close in case she slipped. Fortunately, she caught on quickly.

"Seems like you're a natural," YN mused. "Do you think you're ready to let go of the side?"

"Um, I'm not sure," Jane answered.

"It'll be fine," YN told her. "If you start to fall, I'll try to catch you."

"'Try?'"

"Try." YN chuckled at the look on her face. "Here, take my hand."

Jane took it and allowed YN to pull her away from the railing. She wobbled as she skated, still not entirely used to it.

Very quickly, however, the two girls found themselves skating around the rink. Jane proved to truly be a natural at ice skating, not needing help for long.

Most of the time spent on ice was YN trying to teach Jane tricks she had learned over the years. Both would laugh whenever a mistake occurred, seeming to find it funnier than it really was.

A few decent hours passed before they got off the ice to sit for a moment.

"So, how was that?" YN asked.

"Fun," Jane answered, slipping the skates off. "Cold, though."

YN chuckled. "Yeah, that's probably one of the few downsides." She took her skates off as well. "We can head home if you're too cold."

"That'd probably be best," Jane said. "My feet are getting sore anyway." Jane smiled at YN, who returned it.

They put their shoes back on and returned the skates. Then they began their walk back home.

"Did you grow up here?" Jane asked out of the blue.

"Not in the city," YN explained. "But, I did leave nearby in more of a rural area. My family would occasionally come into the city to visit other family members, but that wasn't often. I would ask you where you grew up, but I've already learned that."

Jane hummed. "Yeah, I'm not really used to cities. My dad was protesting me moving out here for college," she said. "Luckily, my mom and brothers were on my side."

"How many brothers do you have?"

"Two. Do you have any siblings?"

"I've got a brother and sister. They're assholes." Jane looked at the girl, surprised.

"Do I wanna ask why?"

"That's a whole other conversation."

They fell into silence for the remainder of the walk.

When they got back, they could hear their phone ringing from through the door.

YN cursed as she unlocked the door as fast as she could. Jane moved quicker than her into the apartment, answering the phone.

She turned to YN as she shut the door. "It's for you." Jane traded the phone off to YN.

"Hello?"

"Have you tried talking to her?" Julia's voice greeted her. YN rolled her eyes.

"We are not talking about this right now," she groaned. From the corner of her eye, YN could see Jane hanging her outerwear up.

"Well, I can guarantee you that we're talking about it when I get back," Julia insisted. "So, have you been in bed all day?"

"No, actually," YN smirked. "I just got back from ice skating."

"Oh?" Julia laughed. "Would you look at that. You're doing something for once!"

"If you were here, I'd flip you off." Julia's laughter rang through the phone.

"Jokes on you, I- hey!" YN's brows furrowed in confusion.

Jane walked past her to the living room, flopping onto the couch. She glanced at YN for a second.

"Hey there!" The familiar voice of Marshall, Julia's brother, came through instead.

"Marshall!"

"Hey, kid. How's college going?" YN could hear his smile, along with Julia demanding for the phone back in the background.

"Pretty good. I'm broke, though."

"So, the usual?"

"Yes, Marsh, the usual."

"Julia looks like she's about to drop-kick me, so I'll give the phone back to her," he chuckled.

"Alright," YN said. "Hey, do me a favor. Flip Julia off for me, will ya?"

"Oh, I can totally do that," Marshall laughed. "Bye."

"Bye, Marsh." There was a moment of silence before Julia's voice came through again, "God, what an ass."

"Ignoring all of that," YN drawled. "Was there a reason you called?"

"I just wanted to make sure you hadn't spent the entire day in your room," Julia answered. "I also wanted to remind you to try talking to your roommate. If you haven't, that is."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," YN rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna hang up now."

"Bye! Don't stay inside while I'm gone!"

"Bye." YN hung up with a sigh.

"Friends?" Jane asked.

"Yup." YN moved to the kitchen. "Do you want any hot chocolate?"

"Sure!" Shortly after, YN heard the TV switch on with the volume low.

With a chuckle, she began making the hot chocolate.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 3

Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.

Part 1     Part 2

The Joker listens at the bedroom’s door, impatient to have a conversation with you. It seems you are engaged into a fervent phone call with Winston and figured he shouldn’t interrupt.

“Please, anything you can discover would be a great help! U-hum… U-hum… Thank you,” and you hang up, which queues your husband to walk into the room.

You completely ignore him, scrolling through the numerous text messages you sent to your connections; several are already answering back and hopefully you can get some news soon. The more people are involved into the project, the more chances to find Kase and untangle the mystery of what happened to him after he was removed from the car.

“You left me there,” The Joker sneaks in and closes the door behind him. “Luckily we had Wick with us so he gave me a ride.”

No reaction. He takes a deep breath, trying to get your awareness.

“I didn’t sleep with Evelyn; sex wasn’t the reason why I kept visiting her. I know how that asshole made it sound and he was totally out of line!”

You quickly glance at him, busy replying to Ares since you feel you’re going to explode soon.

“The only skill I was interested in is the fact that she is an excellent painter and a popular art smuggler, OK?” J raises his voice, sort of annoyed you neglect to participate into his monologue. “I did not cheat, alright?” he approaches his wife. “First of all: I’m VERY picky! Second of all: why would I want a woman everyone else had?! I don’t like used toys. Third: nobody’s been polishing my gun as you tastefully addressed the issue! I have one Queen and I married her!!”

A little bit of doubt in your eyes and he utilizes the opportunity.

“You said you saw me going to her house? I did! The Bowery King asked if it was for the last 6 months? Yeah, I did! You know why?!”

At least now The Joker got your attention: you play it cool but he guesses you’re torn apart by his confession.

Many unfortunate events crammed in lately and hating the man you love made life infinitely more unbearable.

“Why…?” you barely muster the strength to inquire and he sees it as a possibility to mend a few broken pieces; although you can hide your emotions well, J can still read between the lines.

Maybe that’s why he answers with another question:

“Do you realize there are just three Monet paintings in circulation on the black market in the entire world? You admire his work and it took a lot of effort and a substantial fortune to acquire The Water Lily Pond painting. Evelyn Black helped with the transaction, then I had her make some modifications to the original masterpiece.”

You keep staring at The King of Gotham, uncertain about the stuff being tossed your way: is he lying or telling the truth?... In your line of work translating feelings is a huge part of the job; ultimately you had the best mentor to teach you the ropes when you started with the organization: none other than the legendary Baba Yaga. Despite his reputation and to your own amazement, John was one of the few hitmen with integrity and perfectly mastered the aptitude of not being a jerk. Such a rare gem… And blissfully unaware of it himself.

On the opposite end, The Joker is a jerk and flawlessly acquainted with his own “captivating” personality that made you fall in love with him anyway.

Also, doesn’t appear to be deceitful for the moment.

And you despise yourself even more for wanting to believe him.

“What… modifications?...” you throw him a bone and J is definitely not going to pass on the alternative of explaining his actions.

“I wanted to surprise you so I took advantage of Miss Black’s capabilities in the art field; I had her add small images to the authentic canvas: an evolution of you being pregnant, the nine frames culminating with a tenth: the new mother holding our son. Similar to a timeline,” he emphasize and you look intrigued, which might be a positive sign. “Needless to say it was tedious, difficult work, especially because she had to apply special pigments you can’t find at every corner of the street. Apparently you can’t mix old paint with contemporary shades, thus I had to order aged, special colors from Italy, Spain and France. That’s why I went to her place so often: I had to supervise the long process and make sure it turns out astonishing. Then…” and The Joker pauses,”…Kase was gone and I didn’t know what to do with my gift: bring it home or not? Would you have loved it? Would it make you sadder? I continued to drive to Evelyn’s and glare at the stupid painting for hours, undecided on what to do…”

J watches you bite on your cheek, then straightens his shoulders as you utter the words:

“… … … You ruined a genuine Monet?”

Your spouse might be a smooth talker when needed, yet he’s not wasting his versatility on this statement:

“I didn’t ruin it; I made it better!”

Silence from both parties. A good or bad omen? Hard to decipher the riddle with two individuals tangled into a relationship that somehow worked despite countless peculiarities meant to keep them apart.

“I have to talk to Jonathan,” you finally mutter and The Joker steps in front of you.

“Talk to me!”

“Unless you know the exact location of the suitcase full of gold coins he’s been safekeeping for me, I really have to speak to him. Or do you want to hammer the whole basement searching for it?”

Y/N walks out of the bedroom and J lingers inside, evesdropping on the conversation happening downstairs. He can’t understand the chat, but you are probably notifying John about the details your husband left out.

Might as well join the party, therefore The Clown pops up in the living room with a plea impossible to refuse:

“Hey Wick, can I stay here? I don’t care if you say no, I’m not going to leave.”

Your friend crosses his arms on his chest, focusing on the random topic:

“How could I deny such a polite request? Of course you can stay Mister Joker; my house is your house.”

You’re watching the free show unamused; usually it would make you smile…now you lack the depth for such connotations.

“Don’t get smart with me, Wick!” J growls and Jonathan pushes for a tiny, unnecessary quarrel.

“I’m not; although generally speaking, I fancy considering myself a smart guy.”

The Joker opens his mouth and you’re not in the mood for whatever the heck they’re initiating:

“I’m going to pump, then after you dig out the suitcase I’ll take half to the Bowery King,” you announce your plans to them.

“You can do that and rest; I’ll deliver the coins,” John immediately offers. “I can stop by Aurelio’s car shop and ask for his collaboration: he has a lot of associates, doesn’t hurt to get him involved. You have plenty of gold.”

“I have two more suitcases in the Continental’s safe and two more at The Penthouse. It doesn’t matter if it’s all gone as long as I can find my son.”

“I know gold coins are preferred; don’t forget we have a lot of money too,” J reckons with spite.

Is he reminding you or Jonathan?...

*************

Your husband spent the last hour in the garden, talking and texting with a lot of people; needless to mention he’s capitalizing on his network also. Winston disclosed Stonneberg’s contract is still opened, meaning the son of a bitch is out there; you have to scoop him before anybody else does.

“Y/N…” The Joker tiptoes in your quarters. “I thought you were taking a nap,” he huffs when he sees you at the edge of the bed.

You glare at the vial on the nightstand, sharing your idea for a future you wish will come true:

“I didn’t have my medicine in two days; I won’t take it anymore because if we get Kase back… I will nurse him. It all goes in the milk and I want to be able to feed my baby… Do you think his little heart is still beating?...” you sniffle and J is currently debating on a clever response since his mind is blank; one could deduce messing up is encoded in his DNA, but on such a huge scale… well, it gives new interpretations to the term even for him.

The grieving woman seeking reassurance for their loss is trying to make sense of the pointless occurrences that lead to Kase being an innocent victim and The Joker can’t render clarification: he has no clue why he asked her to marry him and why she said yes, it’s not that he’s husband material or a family man. Perhaps Y/N thought he could be… just enough to get by, that’s why she accepted his proposal.

Most women would have cringed at the concept. Most women. Not Y/N.

Most women would have flinched at the notion of having his baby. Most women. Not his wife.

Above all, she trusted J with their son and he treated the three weeks old like a trinket: didn’t drive him home because he had an important meeting, didn’t bother to assign escorting cars nor extra security. The King of Gotham took his child’s safety lightly and it definitely had severe consequences. Too late now to fix past mistakes... but he can attempt.

“You’ll be able to nurse him, OK?” he sits by you and hands over his cell. “Can you enter your phone number in here? Or am I not allowed to have the present digits?”

You’re hesitant and he slides the screen while you hold the gadget.

“Lemme help you,” The Joker sarcastically mumbles. “It should be the first on my list, right where the old number you canceled was.”

You exhale and fulfill his demand out of pure frustration when he squeezes in a second innocent petition.

“Chose my avatar.”

You grunt at his rubbish, scrolling through his folders for a picture anyway; J hopes the largest file will get your attention and that’s the point. How could Y/N miss it?!

Entitled “Baby”, the humongous cluster of pics contains 5,723 items. You open it quite absorbed by its size; what’s more puzzling is the collection depicting Kase’s ultrasounds, hundreds of frames with you being pregnant taken without you knowing: there’s a few when your ankles were so swollen you had to sleep with your feet up on 4 pillows, others with you munching on strange food you craved, more with you in the shower focused on your bump, a decent amount of couple selfies when you were sleeping and J had to immortalize the moment without waking you up and approximately 1,500 images of the newborn.

“You didn’t gross me out when you were pregnant,” The Joker reminds a teary Y/N. “Not sure why you would believe such aberration...” he pulls you on his knees and yanks the phone away, tossing it on the nightstand. “I would also like to underline I didn’t have an affair with Miss Black, alright?”

J lifts your chin up, forcing to look at him.

“Let’s put it this way: why would I fuck around with another woman when I have a wife at home that wants to kill me on a regular basis, hm? Where would the fun be? I mean, she didn’t pull the trigger yet but it’s exciting to hope she might. You know me: I’m a sucker for thrills!”

“Do I?”

“Huh?” J steals a kiss and you frown at his sleekness.

“Know you?”

“Yeah,” the green haired Clown acts composed while in fact his feathers are ruffled. Before you catch onto it he has to ultimately admit: “I’m sorry I didn’t drive the car… I should have…”

The Joker holds in his breath when your arms go around his neck very tight.

“I’m suffocating…” he grumbles. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to hug me or choke me to death,” J keeps on caressing your hair, prepared to block your attack in case you’re actually in killing mode.

This is the excitement he was speaking about: with you, one could never know until it’s a done deal.

“I bumped into Magnus at the Continental,” you give him a bit of space to inhale much needed air and The Joker is surprised at your revelation. “I had no idea about his scheme, otherwise I would have skinned him alive right on the hotel grounds! I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences!”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” J cuts you off and he can tell you’re getting mad; maybe you think he doesn’t give a damn but the reason is simple. “You would’ve been declared excommunicado for murder on neutral ground and I don’t want my wife to be the target of such punishment from the company she so proudly retired from. I need my partner!”

The King of Gotham touches your forehead with his as you whisper:

“I hate you!”

“Mmm, regarding this true love affirmation, I’m gonna need you to take a break from detesting me until we have Kase, then you can despise me full throttle again. Deal?” he extends the palm of his hand and you reluctantly shake it, not realizing you’re reacting to his nonsense. “Is that a smile?” J returns the favor with one of his creepy silver grins.

“No.”

“Liar,” he pecks your lips and can’t explain the weird feeling in his heart when you kiss him back.

*************

Jonathan enters the house and becomes suspicious after a few minutes: too much silence.

Omg! Did you and The Joker engaged into a brawling that ended up badly? Did you end each other?!

John frantically runs to the garage, nervous to see your car and J’s are still parked inside. Shit!

“Y/N?” he shouts, concerned about your fate; The Joker’s… irrelevant. Nobody in the garden, patio is empty also. Downstairs is deserted thus he rushes upstairs to your room. The door is not completely shut and he slowly pushes it, knocking.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

The first thing he notices are clothes scattered on the floor, then he halts his movement at the sight of Y/N and her husband dozing off on the bed sideways: the naked bodies are covered with a blanket, but he can tell you’re snuggled in J’s arms.

Jonathan steps backwards, guilty of invading his guests’ privacy; he certainly didn’t expect to intrude in such a manner and softly closes the door, grateful it’s not what he feared.  

You and The Joker are so worn out the sound of your phones vibrating on the nightstand doesn’t wake you from the deep sleep. Your numerous contacts keep replying back to the text messages, the most important one showing up on his cell: one of the people J reached to is Evelyn Black and the two sentence conversation lights up the screen.

“Let me know if you see Stonnenberg.”

“He’s here.”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[meta-squash]

i’ve been so fucking restless all day, nowt to do with xmas since i really haven’t celebrated it or any other holiday really in years it probably has more to do with quarantine and generally pnw induced depression and also my adhd and stuff and i don’t know. but i’ve been super restless and i’ve already rambled about it in my notebook but my brain won’t shut up and i type faster than i write (or at least when i type fast it’s still legible and the same cannot be said for my shite handwriting). i took a walk today for an hour and a half and when i got home after i’d sat around for like an hour i just wanted to be out walking but like in the summer before i got top surgery i would walk the same 2.5 mile walk every day and now i just can’t it’s so boring but i don’t really know where to go. i’ve just been wandering but i’m sick of staring at my bedroom walls and getting no inspiration. i don’t know i’m so restless and it’s so annoying because basically i get this thing that’s like the desire to create, the desire to make things but no ideas or inspirations for what to actually do. it’s been like this for years. every so often i get flashes of solid inspiration but mostly it’s like a “i want to create” feeling but then i sit there in front of the paper or the collage stuff or the canvas or whatever and nothing comes. i don’t know if it’s a block due to my own i don’t know like need for control or whatever or if it’s a depression and/or adhd based plastered up wall. maybe it’s both. i don’t know. but just get this scribble in my stomach and this scratching like in my muscles or something i don’t know but it’s like this weird restlessness but there’s nothing to put out there. and i don’t know maybe if it wasn’t the middle of winter i could like drive down to oregon and sleep in my car and then drive back just for a change of scenery but it’s literally the middle of winter and also there’s a fucking pandemic and i’m trying to quarantine as best as possible because i’m paranoid as fuck. but i don’t know it’s just frustrating. first of all it’s bizarre because i found a notebook of mine from 6 years ago and i was having the same fucking blank-brain-can’t-think problems then as i’m having now. so yeah it’s probably unmedicated adhd but like ugh. but also it’s frustrating because all my favorite things, all my hyperfixations and points of inspiration are so intellectual and creative. like the les mis fandom or the manics or libertines bands themselves and fandoms as well and things like that and it’s frustrating to have so much inspiring shit right in front of me and desiring to make as well but nothing comes out because of whatever this stupid block is. and yeah i think a big part of it is adhd but also i just wonder if part of it is my brain desperately wanting control or something i don’t know. but i’m just so restless and i just want to create but i don’t have any ideas and i don’t know i should probably do some doodles or something. i used have this doodle system my friend and i came up with where you close your eyes and make marks on paper with a pencil and then you connect them with cross-hatch marks into whatever rough weird images you might see and it was always really interesting i should do that again. but even more than that i wish i could write. i don’t know i think the most truly creative and original thing i’ve written in a long time is (amusingly, ironically) a fucking manics fanfiction thing because the ending of that stupid richard book pissed me off so much. and that was like 3 years ago or something. 4 years i just checked. i don’t know, i miss writing creatively in ways that aren’t tv show/book fanfiction because yes that’s fun but that’s different. but my brain won’t cooperate even when i want to write. i mean i wrote a poem last night for the first time in like 2 years but then i look at it and it’s terrible. and i know it’s probably because i’m rusty and i need to get the hell over myself but idk. it’s like i want to express myself in my head in one way but then it never comes out that way on paper. collage is easier, less thought or at least less intense thought more aesthetic thought but i miss intellectual thought and i miss making words do cool things. but it’s this fucking adhd brain fog this inability to get my brain to have more than half a second of sharp focus even if i want to do something. and again getting properly into the libertines is pulling this out and hell even getting back into the les mis fandom is as well. with the les mis fandom it’s more about my rusty critical thinking and analysis skills because i haven’t been in university for like 5 years and i feel like everyone has much better observational skills and analytical writing skills than me. and then with the libs and manics fandom it’s more about the creative writing and creating in general because it’s like my room is covered in inspiration i’ve got pictures and things on all the walls and i have materials for pretty much any type of artistic creation so i could very easily be incredibly prolific and make a lot and have lots of ideas but there’s just nothing there. the urge is there but not the content. and it’s a problem i’ve had for so long. and it’s goddamn frustrating. i don’t know maybe if i was medicated i could make stuff better? but even then i have no idea. i have no idea. it’s so funny like i’m so fucking restless it’s 5 am and i have so much thrumming in my stomach and i could get up and go for a walk even though it’s like 33 degrees outside and i want to make stuff my skin wants to make stuff but like that shit’s not translating into actually making anything because nothing fucking comes forward. urge without content is empty and stupid and mute.

[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.

[baekhyunbitz]

Yin and Yang

An: Finally finished!!! Since it's this cuties birthday still in my country, I wanted to get it done and post it today. Happy Birthday handsome❣

Genre: Flufffffff

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.4k +

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The stories say on your 17th birthday, you're one step closer to finding your soulmate. You will begin to notice a tattoo take its form and only your soulmate possesses the copy. They can range from any size, color, and pattern, and could possibly change once you have met them but that case is very rare. It's become much easier as the years go on and social media becomes more popular, pictures are uploaded 24/7 making the search a bit more bearable. Then there are people like me that choose to let time take its course. Believe me, I get curious every once and a while but I'm not in any hurry. The day I turned 17 wasn't a day I was looking forward to. All everyone seems to care about anymore is finding their special person but there is so much more to live for. I was actually very pleased with my piece though. Yin and Yang. Dark and light. Simple, yes, but my light carried thin brush strokes of crimson and tangerine, while my dark looked like a messy brush stroke as if the zigzag scribbles were enough to cover the Yin next to the Yang. Messy, but simple, it fit me.

As the next few years go on, all my friends have found their S/O after hours of browsing the web, I, on the other hand, have traveled around the world, adding a new tattoo to commemorate my adventures. I saunter down the hall of my apartment towards my front door, making sure I have everything I need.

"Headphones, check. Wallet, check. Water, check. Keys...." I look towards the wall by the front door and grab them from their place on the hook. "Check." I slip on my shoes then head out the door, skipping through the lobby and out the main doors.

Today marks a year since I've moved to South Korea. I wanted a big new change in my life and this vibrant and alive city was calling out my name. From the culture to the food, the sights, to the loving. I decided to get the skyline of the city in a small celebration for this special anniversary. About 6 months ago, a new tattoo/piercing shop opened several blocks into the city, INKredible Tattoos and I've heard nothing but incredible reviews about them. I took a liking to their portfolios and decided I wanted to have them be a part of my adventure piece on my arm. I've made it a goal that I always find a new artist to add to the sleeve piece on my left arm, also adding two decently sized pieces on each thigh and a four leaf clover behind my right ear. My sleeve consists of all the places I've been to, my biggest achievements, my relationships with family and friends, all framing my soulmate tattoo.

Passing the apartment buildings of various colors and structures, the tattoo shop comes into sight, a maroon awning shading the entrance and music playing from the speaker. The bell chimes as I walk into the air-conditioned lobby. The walls are painted the same maroon with gold flakes scattered, mahogany polished flooring with black leather sofas for seating. What caught my eye though was the espresso tinted irises looking in my direction.

"Ah, welcome to INKredible Tattoos. How can I help you today?" The man stepped out from behind the glass case, my eyes falling to the way his dark blue jeans hugged his gorgeously thick thighs. Words got stuck in my throat as the sunlight from the window lit up his profile, showing his sharp jawline and deep set features. His thick chocolate locks fell onto his forehead as he extended his hand out to mine. His olive green t-shirt gripping his biceps,

"I'm sorry, my name is Dean, I'm the owner of this shop."

"Y/N. Pleasure to meet you." My eyes still fixated on his features, a chuckle escaping past his lips.

"The pleasure is mine. What were you thinking about getting today hun?"

"Well, I was thinking about getting the skyline of Seoul on my left arm here by my shou— "

"Dean!" A voice yelled, "Did you happen to—oh..." Another guy appeared in my vision, one that is a little more eccentric than Dean. His black teal tinted curls bounced as he took the space next to Dean, mahogany vortexes took me by surprise, just as much as the silver ball of his labret piercing, "What's a cute girl like you doing in a place like this? Thinking about getting a piercing from the one and only me?" He pointed at himself, my eyes catching the sling of his chest peeking out of his semi buttoned-up red, blue, and white shirt.

"Knock it off Mino, she's here for a tattoo." Dean hissed and Mino slid his hands into his dark jeans. His plush pink lips formed a pout that seemed too cute for his sultry features. I chuckle from his reaction, easing the tension, a slight smirk making itself apparent in the corner of Mino's lips.

"Hey Christian! We have a new canvas!" Mino gruffed and a guy with curly obsidian hair made his way down the hall. Clinging to his body was a gray short sleeved button down shirt, accentuating his muscular biceps, black ink art spilling down his left arm.

"Is that so, what made you decide to come here?" His thick Australian accent stunned me as he approached me, his warm skin soaked in the sunlight as well as his caramel irises turning a warm honey.

"6 months ago I heard the buzz about your shop from a friend so I decided to check out your website and admired everyone's portfolios. The different techniques from each of you are outstanding, but one in particular really captured my interest. I believe his name is Oh Sehun."

"Well, you happen to be in luck today, he's in the back room." As I followed Christian down the hall, bright red hair caught my attention. My feet stopped at one of the rooms, my eyes viewing the tattoo artist; his eyes focused on the customer's piece, the buzz of the tattoo machine at work. He pulled away from the skin, his hand grabbing the clean paper towel from his slender leg. His maroon sleeves are pushed up, showing the ink on his arm; I leaned against the door frame trying to see his features, but his red hair blocked them, "Y/N, what are you waiting for?" Christian's voice bringing me back to reality, my feet pulling me from the door to a few rooms further, "Get your guns ready, master. You've got an admirer." Christian moved to the side of the door to let me by. My heart stopped as my eyes fell on to the man sitting in the chair. His dark almond irises met with mine, the words I tried to speak stuck in my throat.

"Awesome, what'sypur name love?"

"Y/N." Even his voice has me weak. He rolled back in his chair, his shirt revealing his toned chest making my heart race,

”Go ahead and sit in the chair for me." His eyes watched me, his soft brown hair falling into his face, "What are we thinking about creating today?"

“The skyline of Seoul. I wanted to get a piece to commemorate a whole year here. It's an early birthday gift for myself and I figured now was better than never."

"We going with the black silhouette?"He rolls over in the chair next to me, the close presence sending a chill down my spine. What has come over me?

"Yes, I was thinking about getting it right here by my shoulder."

"Alright. I'm going to trace out the stencil and place it to see if you like the spot." Sehun saunters over to the light table, giving light instructions to Christian to get the necessary equipment ready. My eyes can't help but wander around the room, Sehun's work framed on the walls, his technique so effortless. My gaze lands back on Sehun at the table, his honey-like skin glowing under the soft lighting from the table.

"He's stunning isn't he?" Christian lightly whispered causing me to jump a bit in my seat.

"What? I mean...I wasn't..?"

"It’s okay love, most clients end up staring at one point or another after walking through the door." He winked with a light smirk he wondered over to Sehun to let him know the station was ready to go.

"How does this look?" Sehun rolls over to me with the stencil in hand, a black silhouette of the skyline of Seoul perfectly etched out on the tracing paper with carbon ink.

"Perfect, it's exactly what I want."

"Excellent, I'll just place it to get the right spot then we'll get started." His soft smile had my heart skipping a beat, his hands gently laid the paper against my left arm just below my shoulder at the top of my inked sleeve. His digits brushing over my skin with a feather-like touch while smoothing out the edges of the paper.

"Still looking good?" I looked into the hand mirror he held up so I can view the placement, nodding to let him know it was great where it was,

"Let's get started then, Christian you mind helping Dean out for right now since this shouldn't take too long." Christian saluted for his departure, closing the door on the way out. One of my favorite sounds fills the room as the tattoo gun comes to life, "So what's your story behind your sleeve love?"

"I have this goal for myself actually. I try to go on adventures and try new things as much as I can, when I accomplish this, I add a new piece to my sleeve. I've been adventuring since I turned 17. It hasn't been easy with everyone telling me that I won't get far if I don't have my soulmate by my side."

"I never understood why finding our soulmates was a priority. I don't need someone to make a living in life."

"Thank you! Finally, I met someone that feels the same way I do. I also started getting more pieces so people around me would stop harassing me about their soulmates." A light chuckle came from the man sitting in front of me, the corner of his lips turning into a smirk. That sound. Might just become my new favorite. What has come over me today? He's just a guy. He's just my tattoo artist.

"I'm gonna need you to turn your arm a slight bit here so I can finish it up." As I turn my arm, I noticed the machine stop buzzing, his features falling blank.

"Is there something wrong?" He furrowed his brow, struggling to find the right words as started up the machine again.

"Uh.. sor— sorry, I was just amazed by all the achievements you've made. You've done so much it seems, more than anyone I know." Is that really what caused him to stop? Nobody has done that before… I wonder—no… he can't be. There's no way.

"What got you into the tattooing business?"

"Well since I can remember, I've had a love for the art form, wasn't until I got my first tattoo that I actually started learning. Once I got used to the machine and practiced a lot with my teacher, I did my first tattoo on Dean. We've been close since that day. When he asked me to be a member of his new parlor, I was so ecstatic to finally have my dream job." The genuine smile he displayed showed the deep passion he has for this line of work.

"You're family must be really proud of you. Following your dreams and goals."

"Actually, they just wanted me to find my soulmate just like everyone else."

"I'm sorry, Sehun... I didn't me—"

"It's okay love, I've had plenty of time to get over it. Like you, it's not the most important adventure in my life. Although, I'm open to the idea as of lately." Why did those few words seem to punch me in the chest... I shouldn't feel this way for someone I just met.

"I hope you find your special someone Sehun. You seem like a great guy."

"Thank you Y/N, but I have a feeling I won't have too much trouble."

"How optimistic. Good quality to have in life."

"Alright, you're all finished hun, I hope you like it." He lifts up the hand mirror once again so I can see the finished piece. He ended up adding two birds flying above the skyline, adding onto the beautiful silhouette.

"I adore it Sehun, thank you so much. It means a great deal to me."

"Anytime, you ever feel like getting another piece in the future while you're around, I would love to be the artist." Seeing his full smile caused a blush to spread over my cheekbones. Oh God, please don't notice. He took the latex gloves off as we made our way to the door, entering the hall,

"So how are we paying today?"

"Card is fine." I reached into my pocket to pull out my card, only to see Sehun's hand laying on the counter. My heart started to pound in my chest at the replica to my soulmate piece, but in blue. Blinking a couple of times to make sure my mind wasn't playing tricks on me, the color started to change into a mauve. I look down at mine to see the tangerine shade fade into the same mauve color.

"How about a date instead?" I thought I was blushing before— boy, earlier couldn't come close to comparison. Whistles, hollers, and claps filled the space around the lobby causing a chuckle to fall past Sehun's lips as his friends applauded the long-awaited moment.

"I was beginning to wonder how long it would take for one of you to notice. I happened to see your tattoo as you explained your story, the funny part was that you were automatically drawn to his work, I didn't need to intervene." Dean explained as he high fived Christian and the red-haired man from the other room.

"Bout damn time there man, I was starting to think you were never going to find the one. By the way, my names Kwon Jiyong, but you can call me G-Dragon."

"Nice to meet you." We shook hands before he leaned down to lightly kiss the top of my hand, letting go to ruffle Sehun's hair.

"So what do you say, love? Mind if I show off your beauty to my city?"

"As long as it's you by my side, I'll go anywhere."

[imagine-always-and-forever]

Flutterings & Tequila - Part 12

A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: you’ve decided to go clubbing with your best friend the last summer before college starts to take your mind off of the Mikaelsons who have invaded your life this summer. Specifically, you’re trying to distract yourself from Niklaus Mikaelson and the flutterings he has caused you. Tequila is your friend tonight.

Part Summary: spending the day with Klaus (part 2-ish)

Warnings: typical stuff you’d see in the show

Word count: 1,906

Tags:  elle88531,  violentmommabear42 (let me know if you want to be tagged or I missed you out on the tag list!)

Authors note: this part is a little shorter than usual because it’s sort of part two of the other part. The next part is going to be :) That’s all I’m going to say. Take from that what you will. Hope you enjoy this part! Also, please let me know what you think!

Part 1  |   Part 2  | Part 3  | Part 4  | Part 5  |  Part 6  | Part 7  | Part 8  | Part 9  | Part 10  | Part 11

It turned out that daisies were very hard.

For the past two hours, you’ve been painting and messing up all three flowers that Klaus seemed to deem beginner. You had tried salvaging your misshaped daisy by adding more petals but then one daisy grew to be a quarter of the canvas with a tiny little centre. If it was a real flower it would be monstrous and probably wouldn’t even be able to hold itself upright.

The roses, which you had moved onto when you gave up all hope on salvaging the daisies were supposed to be simpler but when you tried painting the delicate overlapping petals of those the paint just ran right into each other and made one large red blob. It happened a total of four times before you gave up in a huff.

The carnations were just a mess. They looked like spikey multi-colour hedges on green sticks.

“You all right there, love?” Klaus asked with amusement.

“Fine,” you said in an irritated tone of voice as you eyed your canvas. Maybe you could try the daisies again after you tried painting this last carnation, which you were definitely going to end up making into a disaster.

You frowned in concentration as you carefully painted the edges of the flower first. It took you ten minutes to mix the right light pink that you wanted but it was just right. You painted it in little strokes, your face practically on the canvas as you leaned in close to be careful you didn’t make a mistake. You held your breath as you finished the last edge. It was still a spikey mess but at least it was a pink spikey mess. Maybe you could salvage this last one.

You mixed deep purple to go inside and started slowly applying that as well. Some of the paint dripped off the brush and landed on the newspaper below. You didn’t pay attention to it as you finished the carnation.

With one final stroke on the very top petal, you were finished. You stepped back to admire your work. It wasn’t the prettiest carnation you’d seen but you could tell it was a flower so that was something.

Then the pink edges of the carnation started to dribble down the sides. You watched in horror as the paint, which must have been too thick stained the canvas with a large smudge as it fell down to the bottom before leaking onto the easel. Before you could react the purple petal that you’d just finished painting had the same issue, but as it was the very top petal, when it ran down the canvas, it streaked into the other petals and the pink edges, smudging it into an indistinguishable mess.

“Oh come on!” you yelled in anger.

Klaus had the gall laugh. You glared at him.

“Well let’s see yours then,” you said childishly, immediately regretting it.

Klaus raised one eyebrow at you. “It’s not finished yet,” he told you.

You huffed.

“May I suggest something easier than the flowers?” he asked, dipping his brush into a vibrant red.

You nodded.

“A bird.”

“Are you sure that’s easy?” you asked. “Because you said the flowers were supposed to be easy and those didn’t end well.”

“So I noticed,” Klaus smiled, still painting away. He must have done the whole garden by now.

You blushed as you realized for the past two hours he’s been hearing you huffing, puffing, and groaning in annoyance at your terrible painting skills. You cleared your throat. “I might as well try it,” you decided. “It can’t get any worse.”

Klaus didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

You rinsed your brush and went straight for the bright yellow. You glanced outside but there were no birds in the garden at the moment. Your mind went blank for a second. What did a bird look like?

“Two wins, a beak, and some feet,” Klaus’s voice came.

Apparently, the look of panic on your face was enough to tell him you were already off to a rocky start. You blushed some more.

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

You started with the head. Birds have small head’s right? Then the body, a little oblong thing that’s slightly curved. Then two stick feet with three toes. A sharp beak. You frowned. That was not as small as you’d meant to make it. Two dots for eyes. Finally, wings.

You decided to just do the one as you’d drawn its profile accidentally anyway. You carefully drew a swooping half circle and added some darker yellow tones to attempt some definition of feathers. You were so focused on not messing up the wing that you startled when Klaus spoke.

“You stick your tongue out when you’re concentrating.”

Your paintbrush jolted as you did and a yellow streak went up from the middle of the wing to the top of the canvas, right through two carnations and a daisy.

“Klaus!” you yelled in accusation as you looked up at him.

Klaus laughed.

“I was actually really proud of –“

You looked back at your canvas. Oh. Maybe not. The bird didn’t look so much like a bird as it did a cross between a duckling and a peep. Oh, no.

“Ugh, why am I so bad at this?” you asked, running a hand over your face before covering your face completely and groaning again into your paint-covered hands.

Klaus laughed again.

“Shut up,” you muttered into your hands.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Look at it!”

Klaus put his paintbrush down and walked over to stand next to you. He was quiet as he looked at your painting and you didn’t lift your face to see his reaction. After several seconds went by and he still hadn’t said anything, you were starting to wonder if maybe you should peak. Then you heard an odd sound. It sort of sounded like a –

“Hey!” you said, dropping your hands as you turned to see Klaus covering his mouth with his hand as he tried to hide his laugh. He’d been laughing silently this whole time! “It’s not funny! You’re the one who said they were easy! You’re the one who said you’d teach me!” you laughed. “And look at it! I just painted a bunch of blobs and a demented peep!”

Klaus laughed harder.

“Fine, then let me see yours!” you declared and marched over to Klaus’s canvas before he could respond.

His laughter stopped as you stopped in front of his work. You stared at it in shock.

He had painted the daisies, roses, and carnations. But Klaus hadn’t painted the garden at all. Klaus had painted you. It was a portrait of you with a crisp but delicate white daisy flower crown and a bouquet of red and white roses and delicate pink, violet, and blue carnations. You were smiling as you looked out, just beyond the painting’s edge. There was a light blush across your cheeks and highlights of the sun across your face and hair. You seemed to be wearing a pure white sundress.

“It’s not finished yet,” Klaus said quietly.

“It’s beautiful.”

You looked back at Klaus to see him looking bashfully down at the ground, a blush of his own lightly colouring his cheeks.

“Brother,” Elijah’s voice came from across the garden.

You both looked out the window to see Elijah walking steadily towards the two of you. Just like that, the moment you two were having – and you were sure this time that it was a moment – was over.

“What is it?” Klaus asked.

“Rebekah and I discovered something you should see,” Elijah said.

“Kol?”

“He went off on his own. I expect we’ll hear back soon.”

“What did you find?”

Elijah and Klaus turned to look at you.

“I need to speak with my brother alone,” Elijah said, avoiding your question.

“I guess the painting lesson is over then,” you said and went to leave.

Elijah looked between his brother and you. “Don’t forget your… painting,” he said as he eyed up your mess of a canvas. You blushed in embarrassment.

“Actually that’s staying here,” Klaus announced. You paused. Why? What would he want with that? Elijah seemed as perplexed as you were. “It’s a gift,” Klaus explained. Elijah raised his eyebrows at this news. “To me,” Klaus clarified.

“I see,” Elijah said after a moment. You didn’t see. Would someone explain? But neither of them offered any further explanation and they were clearly not planning on sharing what Elijah and Rebekah had found with you.

“I’ll just go then,” you said. Klaus smiled at you. He did that an awful lot. “Thanks for the lesson,” you said, feeling another blush. You cleared your throat before ducking out of the guest house before you blushed even more. You could feel both of their eyes following you as you walked across the garden and disappeared inside the house.

Once inside the house, you closed the door and took a deep breath. Today didn’t feel very real. You wished you could call your best friend and tell her about it but that would be a bad idea. Josie would be an even worse one. She gave you one rule and that was not to get involved with the Mikaelsons and yet here you were.

You went up to your room to let the morning sink in for a little while. As you closed your bedroom door, a buzzing sound started. You frowned. Your phone was still very much broken and you didn’t even know where it was. Probably thrown away.

The buzzing kept going. It sounded like someone was calling you but how?

You listened carefully to figure out where the buzzing was coming from. You followed it to your bed and stared at the pillow which it seemed to be emanating from. Cautiously, you picked it up and saw through it something long and flat lighting up inside it. You unzipped it quickly and pulled out a simple phone.

An unknown caller.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Your friends have been busy today,” Jess’s voice came. You froze. “In fact, they’ve been all over town. I wonder what they’re up to?” Jess asked.

“I don’t know.”

Jess sighed. “We went over this. I tell you what to do and you do it.”

“I know but –“

“Take the scissors on the desk and cut yourself with it,” he demanded.

“No, I’m not going to –“

But you were already walking over to your desk. You gasped as you picked up the scissors.

“I told you that you’d do what I said. Compulsion is a funny thing. So many loopholes if you aren’t careful but so many opportunities if you are,” he said into the phone.

“Please,” you begged, “I don’t know anything yet. Give me time.”

Jess said nothing and you raised the scissors to your arm.

“I’ll look for information tonight. I had to spend all day with Klaus and he wouldn’t say a word. If I go out now they’ll suspect something,” you explained in a hurry. You were just about to stab the sharp end into your arm when Jess spoke.

“Stop.”

You sighed in relief, your heart beating wildly.

“You have until this time tomorrow to give me something or you’ll do a lot worse to yourself than that,” he promised.

You swallowed.

The phone went dead.

[dynamic-instability]

In one of my classes we have to write weekly personal narratives about an experience with illness. This week, mine turned into this. It’s probably too personal, and too... immediate?? to turn in to a professor without cutting out a lot of stuff, but not too personal to post online I guess lol

_____________________________

It’s November again.

In 2009 the lights were too bright. Mid-October one morning I woke up to my dad turning on my lights and it was like having to look into the sun while posing for a photo—my eyes wouldn’t stay open, if I forced them to, they couldn’t stay pointed in one direction, they spasmed and hurt. When the light was dimmed, I still saw double. That morning, I showered in the dark, and I remember being scared. They gave me eyedrops that paralyzed my accommodative muscles. In November my pupils were giant discs and I wore reading glasses over sunglasses to look at the computer, and when it was all said and done, the lights were still too bright, and I still saw double.

In 2011 I was tired. There’s fatigue and then there’s fatigue, I learned that Fall. In May of that year I had pulled two all-nighters in a week, and that was the only other time I’d felt this kind of tired, a sensation in about the 30th hour of the second time where it’s like my brain itched. I once saw someone else online describe it as “nausea, but in your head and eyes instead of in your throat and stomach” and that’s the closest anyone else has come to describing it. By November this was happening more and more often. I remember laying down in the corner of the room during a break of Citywide choir and thinking what the hell is wrong with me? I got a cold the next week, and I thought that maybe that was all it was. It wasn’t.

In 2013 I went to the ER for the fifth time in three months of college, and when I wanted to leave before waiting another couple of hours to eventually see a doctor who would tell me once again that they couldn’t do anything to help me, the woman from student life who was there to drive me back to campus made me call my parents on speaker phone and get their permission to leave before she would turn on the car. I had missed more chemistry labs than I could afford to miss without failing, passed out in a voice lesson, was asked by the director to drop out of choir because watching me was distraction when I looked like I was in pain, and if I passed out it would have ruined the concert for everyone. I remember leaving calculus in the mornings mid-class to go to the bathroom and lay on the floor and cry. I remember not being able to lift my hand off the mattress of my dorm room bed. I withdrew from half of my classes on the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, and took the Spring semester off.

In 2014 I had made a promise to myself that I would come back to college full time for that Fall semester just to see if I could do it, and then if I couldn’t I would drop out for good. There was one week where I thought that might be happening. Mid-November. The girls in my dorm had made a fort in the lounge out of sheets and blankets and colorful scarves and I remember laying on the couch through the green-filtered light and feeling the world spin and thinking oh god I still can’t do this. The door opened with a rush of cold air and my friends came in with food for me, since I’d been too sick to go to dinner. They sat with me and helped me with chemistry, offered to type up a paper if I dictated it, told jokes and made me laugh. I took an incomplete in one class, but I passed everything else, just barely scraped through, and came back in January.

In 2015 I just wanted to sleep. I passed out in an elevator and heard familiar voices, concerned voices, as I came to, and I stayed there laying motionless for another minute longer, because as long as I wasn’t awake I didn’t have to keep pushing. I wrote whole pages of completely unreadable ochem notes because my hand wasn’t working any better than my brain, and woke up on the floor and was wheeled out on a stretcher crying. It was dark all the time. My cane slipped on wet leaves and I felt my wrist crunch and there it was, one too many missed organic chemistry labs. I couldn’t stand for an entire choir rehearsal because breathing to sing made me lightheaded. I slept for 16 hours a day. The week before Thanksgiving, I called my mother to tell her I had decided to take another hardship withdrawal, and she sighed. I had applied to transfer schools during my much more optimistic Spring semester and Summer, and the week I left was also the week I found out I’d been accepted.

And so okay now it’s 2019, and it’s October and now November again, semester plan again, dark again. My reading is piling up again, feeling overwhelmed again, laying on my kitchen floor again. But here’s the thing—my health is… fine? Midterm week I didn’t sleep, and yes I passed out twice, but no ER. For the past 18 months, I can count on one hand the number of mornings I’ve been unable to get out of bed because of fatigue. My heart still pounds too hard but my head doesn’t swim every time I sit up. I walk the streets of New York City like mobility has never been a problem. I always take the stairs. My brain doesn���t itch until it’s been 30 hours no sleep.

I couldn’t go to class last week. I lay on the floor of my kitchen and stared up at the ceiling and tried to get up, tried to type out an email to my professors, and I couldn’t do it. I was not too tired. I was not too weak. I was not in pain. I could not move. I try to write and try to write and try to write and the words don’t come. I eat instant oatmeal at 9 PM because I haven’t been to the store in a month. I have lost nearly 15 pounds since moving to New York. I clean the stove for two and a half hours but can’t bring myself to take the dead spider off the side of the bathtub. I check the door lock one-two-three times, pace the floor, sit back down. I do not read Austerlitz. I write a Canvas post for Self and Other but it’s nonsense. I do not write a Canvas post for Accounts of Self. I do not write a Canvas post for Applied Writing. I write a Canvas post for Illness and Disability and somehow forget to post it, the one thing I’ve actually done, because I’m too busy feeling sick at everything I haven’t. I shadow a doctor for the clinical witnessing assignment and everything is fine but when I try to write it up I have a panic attack that leaves me sobbing on my couch and the assignment nine days late and counting. It takes me eight hours to write two pages. I watch 18 hours of YouTube video essays discussing drama about creators I don’t even watch and play a stupid game on my phone for an entire weekend until I’ve spent $25+ in a labyrinth of microtransations and every time I close my eyes I see the moving dots.

In November of 2015 I had three overdue essays for Global Literature, and two more due in the next two weeks. More than half were on books I had not read. My pre-lab wasn’t done for organic chemistry, and I wondered for a moment, if I pretended to pass out, if that would be easier. I stayed up until 4 AM laying on my floor and listening to Hamilton. I was sick, that much is true, but when I felt okay I still sat at my computer and could not bring myself to write.

In 2011 I had so many unfinished assignments for my college-level English class that I resigned myself to failing and I went to school the morning of the final class, but I hid in the stairwell by the choir room until I heard the bell, and I never went back to that class.

2009 was the year my dad stopped being able to yell at me for not doing my homework, because no one, including me, could tell whether it was actually my eyes stopping me.

In 2008 I wrote 6 essays in the 5 days of Thanksgiving break because I had not done any work for Intro to Lit all semester. I pulled it off, somehow, even aced the class because of an unusually lenient late work policy, but what I most remember is the sick feeling of dread as I lay on the floor in the living room staring up at the Christmas tree and feeling invisible sand slip through an invisible hourglass and a vice tightening in my chest.

In 2006 I stayed up almost all night writing a paper and crying my eyes out because I couldn’t find the words to explain to anyone why it had been so impossible for me to get the work done, that I wasn’t being lazy or distracted, I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t necessarily reading YA novels or watching TV or IMing my friends instead of working, I could sit and stare at a blank word document for 6 hours straight and still it would not get done. Everyone talked about potential, talked about how smart I was, but a gradebook that is half 100’s and half 0’s still averages out to an F. No one, including me, could explain the discrepancy. The logic of that simple math was not lost on me, the knowledge that turning in half-finished or not very good work was mathematically better than not doing it, but that didn’t mean I could do it. Words failed me when I tried to explain the illogic of my particular suffering.

I didn’t hear the term executive dysfunction until I was in my 20s. In retrospect I was tentatively told at 16 that I had “probably some ADHD and OCD”, but that psychiatrist was someone I’d been sent to by a neurologist because he thought she could fix my eyes, and when she said she couldn’t, I stopped making appointments. After I got sick, physically sick, the lines blurred between what was causing what, to the point where even I have no idea. Two of the Novembers missing here are ones I spent at CC, on the block plan where I only took one class at a time. My physical health arguably improved a little after transferring in January of 2016, but mostly it didn’t, not until Spring of 2018 at least. And you can see that evidence in dropped blocks, concussions from passing out onto hard surfaces, a couple of incompletes taken when viral illnesses (or concussions) compounded my other problems. What the block plan changed was the way things pile up, lessened the struggle of constant task switching between classes. (Admittedly, I also had fewer papers when taking mostly science classes. Writing takes much more energy, and it’s much harder to convince myself it doesn’t have to be perfect to be worth submitting.) At CC nothing ever really reached the level of catastrophe. Some of that is purely the ability to drop a single block, meaning when it was my physical health that was the problem, I didn’t lose a whole semester, just one class, then reset. But I should have realized sooner that the block plan wouldn’t account for the level of improvement if my physical health had really been the only barrier.

So we’re back to now. Grad school. November again. Dark again. Semester plan again. Too much writing again. Crushing dread again. Dysfunction again. Panic attack in the middle of the night increasingly elaborate organizing rituals scream of the subway tracks in my mind can’t stop can’t start can’t breathe can’t move burnout again. This time without the explanation of chronic fatigue to fall back on.

I have my tricks, have actually learned somewhat to cope in the past 18 years. Schedules help, break tasks into pieces that are as small as possible. Mindfulness meditation. Forgive yourself when it’s not perfect. Get started with something easy, set a timer for 20 minutes and only work for those 20 minutes and then let yourself stop if you want to (and surprisingly often, you won’t want to, sometimes that momentum is all it takes). If you work better in the night, work in the night, who cares what society says your sleep schedule should be. When switching tasks, physically get up and move to a different location. Allow yourself to procrastinate on work with other work if that’s what you have to do. Delete the stupid games from your phone. One or two missed assignments are not actually the end of the world, if you let yourself view it as piling up, you won’t be able to get anything done, so if you absolutely have to, just move through and move on.

It’s not a catastrophe, this November. It’s a fight, but it’s not a catastrophe. I read Austerlitz and forgive myself for skimming it. I write a Canvas post and forgive myself when it’s only 500 words and doesn’t make complete sense. I read Toni Morrison and Édouard Louis and classmates’ discussion posts about Deaf culture and identity and remember why this matters in the first place, that it’s not just a series of assignments to overwhelm me, it’s a series of interesting complicated exhausting important thoughts and questions. I get it done. Some of it. Most of it. I let myself sleep. I breathe. I remember to be grateful because I can get out of bed in the mornings and take the stairs. I am okay.

[antheminmyheart]

you run with me, and I can cut you free (Barlyle)

you run with me, and I can cut you free

Rated T

——

1.

Phillip Carlyle loved to read. Sometimes, when he was still small enough that his mother would read him fairy tales, he would climb into his mother’s lap and insist on reading those tales back to her. He was a tiny thing then, but had a reading comprehension years beyond any other boy his age.

His father scolded him for it, said fairytales were for sissies. The moment he found out that Phillip’s mother read to him, he banished her from doing so. If anything, reading was only for business — there was no point in reading just for the sake of reading, in finding escape in pointless fiction that had no real impact upon the real world.

But Phillip read anyway, and his love for reading only grew with him. When he was old enough, he and his mother would sneak off to shops while his father was away on business and he was allowed to buy a single book — his family was wealthy enough that his father would never notice a few cents missing, and he would certainly never discover the books that Phillip’s mother allowed him to hide underneath his bed. He loved these secret ventures more than anything else, and he savored every page he read as if it would be his last.

Along with the books came a love for writing. Someday, Phillip swore, he was going to become a famous playwright — but he told nobody this, not even his mother. There was no point in dreaming when you were a child who grew up bearing the Carlyle name, your future destined to be a life of loneliness and misery.

Phillip dreamed anyway.

*

2.

Phillip still lived with his parents well into his twenties — mainly because his father would not give him a drop of his inheritance, except to pay for university. He wanted to become a playwright more than anything, but he couldn’t do that until he could afford to move out and away from his father.

But, at least he could get away for a few hours every day at the university. If there was anything he was thankful to his father for, it was that.

He was a Business major, as a result of compromise — blackmail — with his father, but minored in Literature. He wasn’t sure if his father knew about his extra classes, but if he did, he didn’t say anything. Being a Literature minor gave him the excuse to read as much as he liked... and it also gave him an excuse to frequent the university’s library. A place where he could read more than ever before — Moby Dick, Hamlet, Middlemarch, Great Expectations. Phillip frequented the library so much that the librarian knew him by name. (He liked to pretend that it was for that reason, anyway, and not just because he was a Carlyle).

Today, though, he wanted something a little different. Usually, he picked a book out within five minutes and hurried home, but today he took his time and carefully browsed every title. 

“May I help you with anything, Mr. Carlyle?”

Phillip jumped, and spun around to face the librarian. He was an older, short man with graying hair and round eyeglasses, and he looked at Phillip with a raised brow and pursed lips.

Phillip’s lips parted, ready to say no, when he caught sight of a singular book lying on a shelf. It had a black, blank cover, and Phillip instinctively took a step toward it.

“What’s this?”

The librarian followed Phillip’s gaze, and scowled. He shook his head. “Somebody left it on the steps this morning. Completely blank inside, no name, no story. Nothing.”

“May I have it?” Phillip asked before he could stop himself.

The librarian looked at him again, frowning. “I don’t—“

“I’ll pay for it.”

Seemingly at a loss for words, the librarian shrugged. “Go ahead, I suppose. I don’t know who left it, and they clearly had no use for it.”

Smiling, Phillip retrieved the book. He was ready to pay for it, as promised, but the librarian waved him off, surprising him.

Book under arm, Phillip left the library and hurried home. He was done for his classes for the day and he couldn’t be too late, or else his father would interrogate him at the house. 

He was already thinking of the stories he might write later on that evening.

*

3.

Coming home late had its consequences. Phillip went up to his room spitting blood, metallic taste in his mouth and harsh cut on his forehead. His ribs ached from where his father beat him.

Trying not to cry, he closed his door, locked it. He threw the blank black book onto his bed, lucky that his father hadn’t tried to take it away from him. Perhaps he’d been so lost in his fury that he hadn’t noticed the book... or perhaps he just didn’t care.

Phillip used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his lips and forehead. He wished he could go back downstairs to wash out the taste of rust in his mouth, but he didn’t dare risk running into his father again that night. No doubt bruises were already forming on his ribs.

His body ached, screamed at him for sleep, but... no. Phillip promised himself that he’d write down his ideas before he lost them... if he wanted to get away from his father, he had to start somewhere.

Sighing, Phillip grabbed the book and collapsed into his desk chair. His ribs screamed at him.

Just five minutes. Just five minutes, then he could call it a night.

He opened the book.

...Wait.

Phillip’s eyes swept over the page, and he frowned.

This book wasn’t blank. This book wasn’t blank at all!

Lines and lines of text filled the pages. As Phillip flipped through, he realized that every single page was filled — cover to cover. Flipping back to the front cover, he gawked as words and an image appeared on the formerly blank canvas before his very eyes.

The Other Side

Shades of blues and purples replaced the blank cover, and an image appeared before him. The silhouette of a man, wearing a brilliant red coat, cane in hand.

Below the title, a smaller subtext. 

 You run with me,

And I can cut you free

There was no author name.

Hands trembling, Phillip turned to page one.

*

4.

His eyes were red and bleary with sleep by the time he finished. He had no idea what time it was, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the sun would be rising soon.

Phillip Carlyle was breathless.

P.T. Barnum had swept him away into a world of magic and hope, of happiness and wonder. He was left craving the circus, longing for the fictional circus family within the pages — Lettie and Anne, Constantine and Charles, even Charity and her girls. His heart ached, beating for a world that didn’t exist.

For a man that didn’t exist.

It had been... almost magical.

Tears welled in Phillip’s eyes as he closed his eyes and finally retreated to his bed. He thought sleep to be impossible at first, but his eyes were heavier than anticipated and they were closing as soon as his head hit the pillow.

“God,” Phillip whispered into the darkness with his last bit of conscious breath, “I wish he were real...”

*

5.

Much to his dismay, he slept late the next morning. Any dilly-dally would make him late for his classes, so he bolted upwards, already stumbling out of bed before his eyes were even half open.

His body felt like it was on fire, no doubt a result of his beating last night, but he had no time to focus on that. He—

Strong hand on his chest, pushing him down.

“Wha—“

Terror filled every fiber of his being, mind wildly thinking that his father had come into his room to beat him some more. Never mind the fact that the hand didn’t feel like his father’s—

Phillip Carlyle looked up.

A scream rose in his throat, but the same hand on his chest rose up to cover his mouth. Whiskey-colored eyes stared back at him, begged him not to make a sound.

“Please don’t scream,” the man whispered, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Phillip’s heart thundered in his chest, beating so quickly he thought he very well might drop dead of a heart attack at the ripe old age of 22. His vision blurred, trying not to process how handsome this stranger actually was.

But what was this man doing in his room?

Seeming satisfied that Phillip wouldn’t scream, the man dropped his hand away from his mouth. Phillip took a deep breath, eyes watering.

“Wh-Who are you?” he choked out. Classes forgotten, he scrambled further away on his bed, back against the wall. Thankfully he’d fallen asleep in his clothes last night and didn’t wear his ordinary sleeping gown.

A slow smile spread across the man’s face, blinding Phillip and lighting up the man’s eyes. He didn’t seem predatory, but—

“P.T. Barnum, at your service.”

*

6.

P.T. Barnum.

Phillip gawked at the man who stood before him. It couldn’t be, but—

For the first time, Phillip noticed the brilliant red coat. The sleek black pants and shoes. He clutched a top hat in his hand at his waist, his hair a sea of brown waves. A cane that didn’t belong to Phillip or his father rested against the wall beside the bed.

“It’s not possible,” Phillip whispered, “you can’t—“

“I can. You brought me here, Phillip.”

“How — who — how do you know my—“

“PHILLIP!”

 Phillip jumped a mile in the air at his father’s booming voice, which seemed to rattle the walls of his room. Breath coming out in short gasps of panic, his eyes flicked to his closed bedroom door, then to Phineas. He had to be dreaming, had to be, but... what if he wasn’t?

“Hide!” Phillip hissed at the strange man. If his father caught anyone, let alone a man, in his room—

Thankfully, his father’s wealth allowed for Phillip to have a larger-than-average closet — even when his room was the smallest in the house — and Phineas was already slipping inside, hiding amongst the clothes, shutting the door with a soft ‘click’ behind him.

Right as Mr. Carlyle stormed into the room. Eyes blazing a ball of fire as he screamed at his son, screamed at him for missing class.

Phillip’s anxiety rose, ribs aching, as he stared up at his father.

His scream echoed the shouts of his father as Mr. Carlyle grabbed him by the shirt collar.

*

7.

When it was over, when Mr. Carlyle had finally beaten Phillip into enough of a pulp that satisfied him, Phillip was left crying tears streaked with blood on his bedroom floor.

He’d almost forgotten about the stranger hidden in his room, had started to think it was all just a dream, until P.T. Barnum stepped out of the closet.

He felt soft, calloused hands — hands that shouldn’t be real — on his back and shoulders, gently trying to turn him over, and he cringed. He couldn’t bear the humiliation of having anyone look at him in this state — not even if that someone was supposed to be a fictional character who shouldn’t, couldn’t, exist.

“Phillip,” a soft voice mumbled in his ear, “Are you all right?”

Phillip’s body shuddered with tears. If his ribs didn’t ache before, they screamed now — he was sure he’d broken one of them. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, and he found he couldn’t reply to the man standing above him.

“I should have helped—“

“No,” Phillip managed to rasp, though he still wouldn’t look at Phineas, “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“He would have... killed me.”

“I wouldn’t have let him—“

Phillip’s broken laughter cut Phineas off. He cringed, curled in on himself as his bitter laughter rattled his injuries further.

“You could have tried,” he whispered, still facing away from the man, “but he would have hurt you, too.”

Neither of them said anything for awhile. In truth, neither of them knew if Phineas could be hurt in this world.

After a long time spent in silence, Phillip felt a hand in his hair. He stiffened, but didn’t protest as soft fingers ran through his hair and gently turned his face so that he and Phineas were eye-to-eye — he could only imagine how terrible he looked.

“Run away with me,” Phineas proposed. Phillip jolted,  startled, a low whine escaping his throat as his ribs screamed in protest.

“What?”

Phineas didn’t miss a beat. “Run away with me.” 

Phillip could only gape at him.

“I may be a fictional character by this dimension’s standards, but I’m not stupid. You brought me here for a reason, Phillip. Run away with me, join my world, become part of the circus — you can leave this world, and your father, behind forever.” 

As Phineas spoke, he became fuzzy. It sounded as if he were speaking from underwater, and, as Phillip’s vision faded around the edges, he watched as Phineas’s expression morphed into one of concern.

“Phil—“

Phillip was gone to the sweet realm of unconsciousness.

*

8.

He awoke on his bed, sure it’d all been a dream. A low-burning fire settled into his abdomen — his father beat him again, beat him bad, and he’d imagined the fictional character as some sort of coping mechanism—

“Are you all right?”

A low whine escaped his throat before he could quite stop himself, and he looked over to see the man in question settled in his desk chair. There was a glass of water on the desk, which he held out as an offering.

Phillip reached for it, but his fingers trembled terribly so the man had to help him. P.T. Barnum. He helped Phillip sit up and brought the glass of water to his lips. Phillip sipped at the drink thankfully, but blushed bright red at having to be assisted as if he were some feeble elder.

“You were out for awhile,” P.T. Barnum spoke, his voice a low, comforting rumble, “I was starting to get worried.”

“My father—“

“Out to work, and I believe your mother went to the market.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

Phillip blanched. There was no way he could get to class now.

“My offer still stands, you know.”

“Wh-What?”

“You brought me here for a reason, Phillip. You want to run away, leave this old life behind - I know you do. So, come with me. I can set you free - you won’t have to face your father’s wrath ever again.”

Phillip stared at him, blankly.

“Not possible,” he whispered.

“It’s my job, Phillip. How else do you think that book wound up at your library?”

“Someone left it, someone—“

“Lettie, Anne and W.D., Constantine, Charles — they were all people like you, who wanted to leave their old life behind. Anne and W.D., they were victims of slavery before the war. Lettie escaped an abusive husband who beat and raped her once she began growing a beard. Charles escaped the wrath of a mother who beat him for his oddity and practically used him as a footstool. They all wanted to get away, and I helped them. So, please, Phillip. Let me help you.”

Phillip shook his head, looked down. His desk chair creaked and shifted as P.T. stood, but he didn’t look up until P.T. was cupping his chin, tilting his head up until he stared into warm hazel eyes.

“Please,” P.T. mumbled again.

Every fiber in Phillip’s body screamed at him, screamed as his eyes flicked down to P.T.’s lips. It was crazy, but the man was holding him so gently, looking at him with eyes that made him want to melt, and, and—

Before he could stop himself, Phillip leaned forward and pressed his lips to P.T.’s startled mouth.

*

9.

A small gasp came out from between P.T.’s lips, but he made no move to pull away. Phillip gripped him, gripped him like his life depended on it, and kissed him.

Kissed his very real lips.

After a moment, maybe two, P.T. began to respond. Phillip was half afraid that maybe, maybe, P.T. would pull away and scream at him, go back to wherever he came from, but he didn’t. Slowly, instead, he pulled Phillip closer. They sat together on the bed, Phineas seated at the edge with Phillip practically crawling into his lap, and they kissed.

Phillip was kissing P.T. Barnum.

Phillip kissed him until he had to pull back for air. He pulled back, gasping, and his ribs ached — they screamed — but, God, was it worth it. 

They stared at each other, eyes dark, matching plump lips, and Phillip found himself panting. 

P.T. smiled, softly, and reached out to trace Phillip’s cheek. Phillip sighed and leaned into the touch.

“I didn’t realize that you were—“

Phillip blushed and averted his gaze. “I had to see if you were really... real.”

P.T. chuckled. “Satisfied?”

“Very much.”

P.T.’s smile returned and he pulled Phillip closer, kissing him again. This kiss was softer than the first, less desperate. Phillip sighed and closed his eyes, thinking that, maybe, this was all he needed in life — this and nothing else.

“Come with me,” P.T. whispered once they’d pulled away a second time. His fingers dropped down to Phillip’s abdomen and lightly traced the bruises through his shirt. A dull throb had settled over the most intense of the wounds, but P.T. touched him like he was as delicate as a flower petal. He shivered against the touch and looked up into P.T.’s eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“You’ll never hurt again,” P.T. promised.

The words, his promise, wrapped around Phillip like a blanket he couldn’t wait to sink into. No more pain — that sounded wonderful.

“Okay,” Phillip whispered.

And so, they stood. Phillip gasped as he shed his old, battered skin, and watched as the shell of his former self laid broken on the bedroom floor.

“I’m—“

“It’s okay,” P.T. whispered. A whitish-gold glow seemed to outline the ringmaster, and he smiled as he picked Phillip up, cradled him in his arms.

“I’ve got you.” 

[kimjongdaely]

My Pet Human [Chapter 3]

Vampire!AU

Pairing: Chen x Reader

Warnings: mention of blood, violence, slavery and sexual situations.

Summary: Every wrong step, every wrong turn led you to this moment. This moment where you would belong completely, utterly to the vampire Kim Jongdae, who never even wanted you in the first place.

Prologue│Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8│Chapter 9│Chapter 10│Chapter 11│ Chapter 12│Chapter 13│Chapter 14 [M]│Chapter 15 [M]│Chapter 16│ Chapter 17│Chapter 18│Epilogue

The man named Kyungsoo blinks once slowly, as if he can’t understand what was in front of him. “Yes?”

His voice is rather deep, surprisingly pleasant and polite. He sets down what he was holding onto the kitchen counter, turning fully to face you and Hui. Peaking over his shoulder, you realize he was holding eggs.

“Are you cooking?” Hui asks, trying to contain her franticness. “Please, you should just let me do something like that.”

The man’s face is terrifyingly blank, as if he’s incapable of emotions. “I just thought I would cook something for the new girl, as a little welcome.” His pleasant voice doesn’t quite match with his blank face. “I was trying to test out my cooking anyways. I’ve always wanted to try it.”

Hui still looks nervous. “But it’s light out…”

“It’s fine.” Kyungsoo waves both of you out the kitchen. “It’s not like I’ll collapse or anything.”

Defeated, Hui motions for you to join her at the dining table. Baffled, you whisper to her, “Vampires can come out in the sunlight?”

“Yes.” She answers. “Their fear of sunlight is only a legend. But they prefer to stay indoors and sleep because sunlight make them uncomfortable. It makes them nauseous and ill.”

You let out a soft ‘oh,’ having learned something new. You wait patiently in silence for Kyungsoo to come out, not knowing how to start a conversation. After all, it’s been a while since you’ve been with other humans in such a casual—but odd—setting.

Kyungsoo comes out with a plate of three fried eggs, looking surprisingly well-made. He sets the plate down on the center of the table, his face still blank.

“Go ahead and try it.” He says. “Tell me how it tastes honestly—vampires can’t stomach human food so I couldn’t taste it.”

You nervously pick up your fork, cutting some of the egg and stuffing it into your mouth. You recoil immediately at the taste—it’s like eating a spoonful of salt. Still, you swallow, staying quiet.

“Well?”

“Um,” you look around at Hui and Thorn, then to Kyungsoo’s expressionless face. You’re not sure if you can actually tell the truth. “It’s a little salty…”

For the first time, you see Kyungsoo’s face fall. “Oh. Is that bad?”

Hui also takes a bite, scrunching up her face. “Very salty. A lot less and it would have been delicious.”

“Oh.” He repeats, disappointed.

“But great first try.” Hui offers kindly, flashing him her bright smile.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes sincerely, looking right into your eyes. “Maybe it’ll be better next time. No salt?”

“Just a little is fine.” Hui pipes.

“I’ll remember for next time.” He nods before pausing. “I’ll go sleep. I’m starting to feel sick.”

“Okay, sweet dreams!” Hui calls after him, though you’re quite sure vampires don’t dream.

The eggs are left mostly untouched as Hui takes them back into the kitchen. “I’ll actually cook something for you now, okay? What do you want to eat?”

“Do you have bread? Just bread is fine.”

She pokes her head out, looking appalled. “Just bread?” She screeches. “How can you say just bread? Look at you! You’re a walking twig! I should just call you ‘stick-bug’ because you’re a literal stick!”

You realize she’s ridiculous—and also very motherly. You’re not used to being taken care of like this, but you decide it’s not worth arguing with her—she seems like the type who won’t take no for an answer. So you merely plaster on your best smile and say, “I’ll eat whatever you make.”

She seems satisfied with this, going back into the kitchen to whip something up. You’re left alone with Thorn, who hasn’t moved or spoken since your arrival. You try not to stare, but you can’t help it.

You wonder what Baekhyun has done to her to make her look this weak.

You sink your teeth into your lip, wondering what you should say, if you should say anything. Finally, you settle simply with, “Hi. Thorn, right?”

She lifts her head—which looks too heavy for her neck to hold up—and stares at you for the first time. “Hi.” Her voice is soft, breathy, as if she doesn’t even have the strength to talk.

“…Have you eaten?” You try to smile, knowing full well how you’re not the best at conversation. Finding someone to even speak to in the time you were in the Assembly was near impossible, so you never had much practice.

“I’m not really hungry.” She murmurs, rising from her seat, wobbling a bit—making you anxious in case she falls—before regaining her balance with a tight smile. “Enjoy your breakfast. I’m going to go sleep a bit more.”

“Okay.” You watch her leave, just as Hui comes back out with a plate of toast, scrambled eggs and salad, setting them down on the table.

“Did Thorn leave?” She asks as she sits down, watching you eat with a satisfied, motherly smile.

“Yes,” you answer, her face stamped into your mind. “But she seems…weak? Like she’s so pale and always seems tired.”

Hui’s smile turns tight and pursed. “That’s because of Baekhyun.”

“What did he do to her?”

“He’s unpredictable.” Hui shrugs. “When he feels like it, he can be sweet and gentle, while other times he’s cruel and sadistic. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking. Out of the nine vampires in this clan, he’s hardest to read.” She pauses, looking you seriously in the eye. “Try to keep your distance from him. Though…he probably won’t hurt you since you’re Jongdae’s.”

Jongdae’s.

That’s what you are: Jongdae’s Pet. Yet you still hate to think of yourself as someone’s, as if you were an object that can be possessed. But you don’t even have the right to think like that anymore; after all, you’ve never truly been yours. You belonged to the Assembly most of your life, and now you belong to Jongdae.

“By the way,” Hui changes the subject swiftly, her bubbly self returning. “Do you have a hobby? You should find something to pass time with, since the vampires aren’t awake during the day and it can get quite boring.”

“A hobby?” You think thoughtfully. “I don’t really have one…” You never had the time to develop one.

“Hm, well, maybe you can tour around the mansion first. There’s a lot of rooms here and you might find something interesting.”

You finish your breakfast and take your empty plate to the sink, though Hui immediately shoos you away, insisting to let her wash the dishes. With her busy with the dishes, you wander off into the mansion, searching through rooms to see if anything would catch your eye.

The bedrooms are on the second floor, so the first floor is filled with studies, libraries, and some bizarre rooms filled with weird artifacts (that may or may not be cursed, you can never be too sure). One particular room seems to be an art studio, filled with unused canvases and paints.

“Art, hm?” You mumble to yourself, stepping cautiously into the room. You’ve always had a fascination for art—you would sometimes see paintings in the places you worked and you always found comfort in them. The beauty of it, the time and energy and passion spent making it. It seems like a good idea to try painting yourself.

You grab one of the blank canvases stacked against the wall, placing it on a easel. You’re not exactly sure what to draw, what colors to use, or even how to start a painting. You just reach for whatever’s closest to you, dipping a brush into a random color and dabbing it onto the canvas.

You find time fly past you as you watch your brush add continuous colors onto the canvas. The motion is so soothing, you find your mind rid of your usual pessimistic thoughts. Just focusing on each brushstroke, the action of putting a part of yourself onto a canvas makes you so calm.

Before you know it, night has fallen. You didn’t even eat lunch, so when Hui comes in to call you for dinner (she saw you so immersed during lunchtime so she let you paint a bit longer), you find yourself famished.

You didn’t see anyone else even when it was time for bed. You heard footsteps in the hallways though, echoed by the silence.

Hours must have passed and yet you can’t fall asleep at all. You fell asleep so quickly last night, but it seems your anxious nature has taken over tonight. So many thoughts roam your mind, constantly worried about the future. It’s only your second night here, so you haven’t really adjusted to your new life.

At last, you decide it’s useless just lying in your bed. You get up, pressing your ear against the door to hear if anyone is still out there. You don’t hear anything, so you assume they must’ve left the mansion. Hui mentioned something about them often going out during the night.

You tiptoe though the dark hallway, almost bumping into a wall several times. You try to find the stairwell so you can go to the kitchen and get a mug of warm milk which may help you sleep better.

It’s then when you’re suddenly wrenched back, a hand gripping your arm so tightly it feels as if your bone might snap. You yelp in pain, trying to twist your body to see who it is but it’s futile. Moving only makes it more painful.

You’re shoved against the wall, your front pressed against it as your attacker holds you captive.

You hear a low chuckle, feeling your blood run cold.

“Your heart is beating so quickly.” A voice whistles into your ear, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

You recognize the voice.

“Baek…hyun…” You try to say, but because you’re pressed so tightly against the wall, it’s hard to even breath. Your words come out strangled.

He merely hums in response, seemingly satisfied that you recognize him. “Out so late, little flower?”

“Hurts…” You try to say, try to wiggle from his grasp. You want to scream, to call for Hui or Chanyeol or even for Jongdae to help you. You wheeze, trying to get your lungs to take in air.

“I know.” He merely laughs. “I know. Just bear with it a little longer hm?”

You shiver, fear gripping your heart when you feel his fangs graze your neck. Is he…? But he can’t, can he? He’s not your master.

“You’re…not…” You choke out, your movements getting more frantic and wild as you try to break free, though his hold is only tightening until tears are in your eyes.

“I’m not your master?” He offers, finishing your sentence. “That’s not true. Jongdae hasn’t marked you yet, so you technically don’t belong to anyone yet. Obviously he’s not planning on marking you, so why can’t I?”

You feel a sob in your throat. Jongdae never wanted to mark you—you know this. He doesn’t want you. It’s fine to buy you and bring you to his home, but to go as far as to make a permanent, unbreakable contract with you is unthinkable. He would never come save you.

The thought makes you so incredibly sad for some reason.

“Hold still.” Baekhyun murmurs and you squeeze your eyes shut, ready for the pain. You imagine Thorn’s face in your mind, and you wish it were anyone else but him. You even wish you had died back then when you tried to escape so that none of this would ever happen.

“What are you doing?”

Baekhyun’s hold loosens considerably, allowing you more room to breathe. You look through wet lashes to see who had saved you, though you already know from the harsh tone he has spoken in.

“Nothing.” Baekhyun answers casually, still holding you so you couldn’t get away.

Jongdae’s glowing red eyes narrows on Baekhyun, glancing at you. “I’ll ask again. What are you doing?”

“Well,” Baekhyun starts, “I was just thinking that since you aren’t planning on marking her, that I will. I mean, it’s better than wasting her, you know? I can lend her to you sometime if you like.”

Disgust flashes across Jongdae’s face at the idea. “You can’t mark her. She’s mine.”

“You only bought her.” Baekhyun counters. “But you haven’t marked her yet.”

Jongdae growls, eyes glowing brighter, fangs protruding from the corners of his lips. “Get away from her.”

There’s a pause before Baekhyun finally releases you, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, whatever.”

He’s gone before you could blink.

Jongdae’s eyes have lost some of its glow, not as menacing as it was just now, but he still looks angry as he glares at you. “What are you doing so late at night?”

“I…” Your voice is squeaky and you’re panting, since you haven’t fully recovered. “I-I couldn’t sleep so I just wanted to get something to drink…”

You wait nervously for a reaction. His face is unreadable, his red eyes eerie in the night.

Finally, he sighs. “I’ll take you to the kitchen.”

You blink, surprised. You wonder if you heard him right, but he swiftly turns and starts heading down the stairs, so you follow.

You notice how his stride has slowed considerably.

Previous Chapter│Next Chapter

My Pet Human Mini Masterlist

A/N: For some reason I love Baekhyun here since he’s just so unpredictable haha. I’m also really enjoying Jongdae’s personality here 😆 I hope you enjoyed that chap! I’d love to hear from you guys~

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