She/her 31. MDNI. The trail mix of the internet. Will you get a thirst trap? Will you get fan fiction? Will you get the ravings of a lunatic? Those are the dice you're rolling. (Warning: Occasional 18+ content)
Alright. Because I’m just waking up, it’s time I make a new boundary post. You ignore this and you get booted. No second chances. No apologies. No making up for it. In my experience, a second chance is never improvement in this context.
The most important one right off the bat. If you are just interacting with me for the first time and you are immediately asking me for pictures of my boobs, you are not getting them. And if that makes you pissy, reevaluate your life. Let me rephrase that.
YOU ARE NOT ENTITLED TO A STRANGER’S BODY ON THE INTERNET. THERE IS A WHOLE ASS PERSON ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SCREEN. YES. EVEN IF THEY ALREADY POST RISQUÉ PICTURES OF THEMSELVES.
If I do not respond to you right away, there is a reason. It’s not always because I don’t like you. Can that be a reason? Yes. Is it the only reason? No. I pop a melatonin every night. Sometimes my anxiety meds kick my ass. When taken in tandem, fighting sleep is not going to happen. I need that whole sleep thing in order to function. Wait until morning and I will likely send you an apology when I wake up. If you block me because I fell asleep, I call that natural selection.
And most importantly…
NO. I DO NOT WANT PICTURES OF YOUR DICK.
If at any time you were reading this, you either rolled your eyes or got all bitchy, this is about you. You are the problem. Either fix yourself and keep having our good time here or leave.
Because I’m fucking done.
Addendum: If ANY of you put my fucking face into an AI generator, they will all come down and there will never be any put back up ever the fuck again. Do we understand? Fantastic.
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Random thought, but why is it every time I see Eustass Kidd, I want to bite him in the nipple? Nowhere else. Specifically in the nipple. Right or left. Doesn't matter. Just...He has very bitable nipples...
Nami really didn’t mind Law having a key to her apartment. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t still kind of surprise her when she’d get home and her living room would be littered with bodies. Not something she expected late in the afternoon. Nami hoped that they’d be standing outside waiting for her to unlock her door. Instead, Law decides to invite them all in. As long as Luffy didn’t lick her cabinets bare and Zoro didn’t drink her dry, Nami was fine with it.
“Alright, boys,” she dropped her bag on her kitchen table, “How’d we do?”
“My head hurts,” Zoro griped.
“Me, too,” Luffy wasn’t too far behind him.
Law, on the other hand, slapped a notebook down on the coffee table, “There. Lyrics. Done. Anything else you want?”
“Wait, seriously?” Nami breathed a little easier, “You’re not fucking with me, are you, Law? Because if you are, I’m going to be severely pissed off.”
“I’m not fucking with you,” Law assured her, “There are lyrics in there. Took me all of about fifteen minutes and I took a nap for the rest of the afternoon.”
“Mine didn’t take long either,” Sanji dropped the legal pad his masseuse gave him on top of Law’s notebook.
“How?!” Zoro screeched, “How did you get anything?”
“I got inner demons from the deepest pits of hell,” Law pointed out, “It wasn’t hard.”
“You and me both,” Sanji agreed, still trying to shake his father’s voice out of his head.
“What about you, Luffy?” Law asked, “You get anything?”
“Yeah, actually…” Luffy nodded, “I got a couple lines down.”
“Well…?” Nami put her hand out, “Let’s see them.”
“I don’t know if they’re any good,” Luffy suddenly grew very self-conscious. Now, Luffy was not one to get self-conscious. He was incredibly comfortable in his own skin. However, showing off what he wrote down? That was different. That was a little too personal. Even to share amongst some of his best friends.
“Luffy,” Nami assured him, “It’s better than what Zoro wrote.”
“Hey,” Zoro clutched his chest, “I didn’t write anything. How could it…HEY!”
“It’s alright,” Nami’s voice was strangely gentle. She knew this wasn’t going to be an easy process on any of them, but she wasn’t expecting it to be so hard for Luffy, “I’m not going to share these with anyone until you tell me it’s ok. How’s that sound?”
“Well…” Luffy didn’t like being vulnerable. And he knew that’s what those words meant. But Nami didn’t. Nami wouldn’t have been able to decipher them so easily. And that brought a little bit of comfort to him. He handed over the notebook, “Ok.”
“Thank you,” Nami wasn’t expecting her boys to be so broken over writing lyrics. But there Luffy and Sanji were. Both of them were destroyed. Looks like we know where the lyrics are coming from. If these are any good. But then, Nami took a look at what Luffy had written down.
When I finally see the neon lights
Will you still be there
Would you stand toe to toe with me
Would you be too scared?
Don’t think that I’ve forgotten you
Or the words that you’ve said
It’s still a long road to Vegas
But a longer road for me ahead.
“Luffy…” Nami let out a little gasp, “These are all you? You didn’t go online and look these up?”
“No,” Luffy shook his head, “Those are mine.”
“And just out of curiosity,” Nami wondered, “What were you doing before you wrote these down?”
“I had just gotten off the phone with my dad,” Luffy remembered, “And then, it’s like the words wouldn’t stop.”
“Luffy,” Nami clutched her chest, “Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” Luffy chirped, “I’m fine. Why?”
Are you sure about that? Because this doesn’t sound like you’re fine. That’s when Nami had her great epiphany, “We need to get into the studio. We need to get into the studio as soon as humanly possible. I need to call Shanks. I need to call Rayleigh. I need to go over the rest of these and see which one can make us a hit. And I…I need a drink.”
“Way ahead of you, sister,” Zoro already had a drink poured for himself. Why not make one for Nami, too? With her liquor. In her kitchen. He dropped a couple of ice cubes into the glass and slid it across the counter, “Here, Nami.”
“Bless you…” The bottom of Nami’s glass went right to her eyes. She knew she’d be alright eventually once that glass was empty, but for the time being, she was a mess, “Can someone get my phone?”
“Here, Nami,” Sanji was the only one brave enough to go into Nami’s bag. Law knew better than to go into his sister’s purse and Luffy and Zoro wanted to be blissfully unaware of what treasures lie inside. Still, Sanji handed off Nami’s phone.
“Thank you, Sanji,” Nami sat down at the kitchen counter while the boys got back to work.
“Thank you for calling Grand Fleet Records,” a familiar voice answered Nami’s call, “How can I help you?”
“Hi, Beckman,” Nami put on the charm, “It’s Nami.”
“Hi, Nami,” Beckman chimed, “What can I do for you?”
“I need to talk to Shanks,” Nami requested, “You think you could patch me through?”
“To Shanks?” Beckman winced, “Sorry, Nami. He’s…Incapacitated right now.”
“And by incapacitated,” Nami figured, “You mean, he’s napping off a hangover?”
“Yes…” Beckman wasn’t exactly proud of his boss, but Shanks was who he was and unapologetic about it. He had to somewhat admire that. It wasn’t conducive to handling business, but that was here nor there, “I can pass along a message if you need me to. What’s up?”
“We need to get the boys into the studio,” Nami stepped into her bedroom, “We got daddy issues pouring out onto the paper here and this needs to get recorded. And we’re going to need studio musicians, too.”
“Alright,” Beckman was already writing notes down, “Got it. I’ll call you back when I got something for you, ok?”
Oddly enough, Nami felt a strange wave of nostalgia crash over her. Only this time around, it was much better. Much more comfortable. Much less…met with a switch and more met with kindness and understanding. She certainly wasn’t complaining about it. It’s just like the old days. Only in this case, I’m in his shoes. And I can make it better. I can do it so much better than he ever could. He thinks I won’t be able to make it? That my boys are going to be flops because they have me as a manager? I don’t think so, you asshole. I got them covered. I got them taken care of. And I don’t have to lay a hand on them to do anything. But Nami had one more call to make. She took a good, heavy gulp from her glass and sat down on her bed.
“Hello?” a lady’s voice answered.
“Hi, Shakky,” Nami started to feel a little less anxious. She wasn’t sure if it was the booze or Shakky’s calming presence, but it was nice, “It’s Nami. We met the other day.”
“I remember you, sweetie,” Shakky had a smile in her voice, “You’re Luffy’s friend. His manager.”
“That’s me.”
“What’s up?” Shakky asked, “What can I do for you, babe?”
“I actually need to talk to Rayleigh,” Nami played with a stray lock of hair, “If that’s alright,”
“You need to talk to Rayleigh?” Shakky perked up, “Are you going to run him for me?”
“Oh, yeah,” Nami looked over the lyric sheets in her hands, “I’m…definitely going to run him.”
“Sounds interesting,” Shakky listened intently, “Who did what? Who fucked up that bad that they need PR already?”
“Nobody’s fucked up,” Nami assured her, “This is more of a…precautionary measure.”
“Good call, Ms. Manager,” Shakky praised, “So, what happened?”
“I’m looking at page of lyrics,” Nami winced, “And they might stir up trouble later if someone fully interprets them. And in the golden age of the internet and people who love to overanalyze everything, this kind of songwriting could turn sideways very quickly. It’d just be good to have a cannon at the ready, you know?”
“Uh-oh…” Shakky felt the strangest jolt of excitement shoot through her. And she wouldn’t have had it any other way. She looked over at Rayleigh on his chair, casually flipping through the channels. We are so back, baby. And you don’t even know, “Hold on. Let me go get him for you…”
“Thank you, Shakky,” Nami flopped back onto her bed.
“Ray…” Shakky sat down in her husband’s lap and handed him the phone, “You have a new client, baby.”
“I do?” Rayleigh cocked his head, taking Shakky’s phone, “Wait, is this the little girl from the other day?”
“It is.”
Rayleigh put the phone up to his ear with a hint of a smile on his face, “Hi, Nami.”
“Hi, Rayleigh,” Nami finished off her drink, “I’m going to send you some lyrics one of the boys just wrote and I need to know. On a scale from one to ten, how much controversy would we be looking at if they saw the light of day?”
“Ooh…” Rayleigh didn’t want to admit it. Certainly not then. Definitely not out loud. But he missed it. He missed the challenge. He missed the rush. He missed having difficult clients that made life difficult. But that meant excitement. And given who Nami represented, he couldn’t have been more thrilled to see what she had for him. But then, a better idea sparked in his head, “Nami, are you busy?”
“Incredibly busy,” Nami nodded, “Why?”
“Are you with the boys right now?” Rayleigh asked.
“Yeah,” Nami sat up, “They’re in my living room right now trying to wrack their brains for a song. I swear to God, Rayleigh, I can smell the smoke from here.”
“It’s better than nothing,” Rayleigh chuckled to himself, “Look, are things stable enough there to where you could get away for a while?”
“And leave these four without adult supervision?” Nami scoffed, “Are you nuts?”
“I’ve been called worse,” Rayleigh brushed her off, “Why don’t you come over and we can talk in person? It’s much better than over the phone. If we’re going to work together, the sooner you learn that, the better. A call sets up the meeting. The meeting goes down face to face. I like to make real connections with my clients whenever possible.”
“Ok,” Nami went straight to her bathroom, “I can do that. What would be a good time?”
“How about six?” Rayleigh asked, “Shakky’s making dinner and she’s almost done. When was the last time you had a good, homecooked meal?”
“The other day,” Nami told him, “Sanji made us all dinner. He’s kind of like our resident housewife without any of us being married to him.”
“And is he your assistant?” Rayleigh figured.
“No,” Nami shook her head, her fingers digging through her makeup bag, “He’s part of the group.”
“And he cooks for you?”
“It’s a whole thing,” Nami sighed out, “But if he wants to do my grocery shopping and then, make me a meal, so be it. I’m not going to tell him no.”
“He really is your resident housewife,” Rayleigh laughed a bit, “And here I thought you were a full on single mom with those boys.”
“Nope,” Nami chirped, “That’s a Sanji job. Right down to holding Zoro’s hand when they have to go to the bathroom in public.”
“I can work with that,” Rayleigh let her go, “Well, I’ll see you at six then.”
“I’ll be there.”
Click.
Nami went back to fixing herself up. Her eyeliner had pooled up under her eyes and her mascara was running. It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t fix. And she knew with someone like Shakky there, she’d be under a scrutinous microscope. Shakky wouldn’t say it out loud, but there would be judgment. Nami could feel it already. It wasn’t Shakky she needed to impress, though. It was Rayleigh. If she was going to have Rayleigh running PR for her boys while he was comfortably in retirement, then she was going to have to beg and grovel at his feet. Her time with Arlong taught her that well.
“Alright, boys,” Nami walked back into her living room. And there were Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Law still spread out around the floor, doing their best to write a song. And yet, they were still drawing blanks, “Seriously?”
“You think you can do any better?” Zoro scoffed, “Please, Nami. I insist. Join us. Join us on the floor of your apartment that clearly hasn’t been swept in a while…”
“Rude.”
“And write our lyrics for us,” Zoro offered, “You’re more than welcome to. You’ve asked us to do a lot over the years, but this is probably the biggest pain in the ass thing you’ve ever had us do.”
“I don’t know,” Luffy thought back, “I wouldn’t say the biggest pain in the ass thing. I’d say the car wash incident when we just started school was a little worse.”
“Oh yeah…” Zoro squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress the memory, “I remember that. And I can never forget seeing curly brows in a fucking speedo. That still haunts my dreams.”
“Really?” Sanji glared him down. “Really? You’re really going to complain? You’re just pissed because my ass looked good.”
“Please…” Zoro rolled his eyes, “You have to have an ass in the first place for it to look good.”
“Fuck off, Mosshead!”
“Make me, asshole!”
“Oh, my god…” Nami held her face in her hands, “Would you both either shut up or fuck each other already? I’m over it.”
“You and me both,” Law agreed, “You can cut that shit with a knife.”
“Thank you,” Nami let out a little sigh of relief, “I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees it.”
“WHAT?!”
“Where are you going, Nami?” Luffy asked so softly, so sweetly, so innocently. He was the only one who noticed. Zoro and Sanji were too busy trying to kill each other. Law was too busy being over it and contemplating his life choices hitching his life plans to this wagon. Luffy, bless his sweet, simple soul, was the only one who realized Nami looked a little nicer than normal.
“Thank you, Luffy,” Nami smiled a bit, “I didn’t think I’d ever say you were the easy one. But you’re being the easy one and that should tell the rest of you something.”
And that settled Zoro and Sanji down real quick.
“So,” Law stepped in, “He asked a question, Nami. Who’d you get all dolled back up for?”
“I have another meeting,” Nami explained, “So, I got off the phone with Beckman. He’s going to get back to me on Shanks, but last he saw Shanks, he was taking a nap in his office. I’m guessing whatever Zeff fed Shanks put him out like an Ambien.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sanji nodded, “From someone who has definitely had Zeff’s hangover cures, that will fill your belly and put you out almost instantly. Especially if you’re still reeling, oh, yeah. You’re down for the count for the rest of the day. You sleep for a couple hours, you wake up, you eat again. You might throw up a couple times, but for the most part, you go back to sleep, you sleep through the night, and you wake up the next morning right as rain. Who knows how many business meetings this man has saved because of that?”
“Bless him,” Law approved.
“But,” Nami brought things back, “Beckman says that if Shanks doesn’t figure it out, he would for me. He’s going to get you guys in the studio as soon as possible. I told him you guys had some lyrics down, so the sooner you guys can get in the studio, the better.”
“We have lyrics?” Luffy looked at her strangely.
“You guys have lyrics,” Nami grabbed the notebooks off the table, “Oh, you guys have lyrics. And Luffy, you might end up the main songwriter here.”
“Aww…” Luffy groaned, “Come on, Nami. Don’t put that on me.”
“We’ll see how things work out,” Nami settled him, “I’m not saying we’re doing that right now, but it might be something we have to consider. But I just got off the phone with Rayleigh.”
“How’s Rayleigh doing?” Luffy perked back up again. He knew that name. He liked that name.
“He’s fine,” Nami reported, “But I’m about to go have dinner with him and Shakky. As far as I know, I’m pretty sure he’s going to come out of retirement for us, so the next time you see him, I’m expecting thank yous. I know if I were retired and some pain in the ass ingénues came out of the woodwork to pull me back into the fire, I’d be pissed.”
“Ok…” Luffy nodded, “But Nami, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Luffy,” Nami allowed, “This is an open forum. Better to get your questions out now than later. What is it?”
“What’s an ingénue?”
“It means someone still wet behind the ears, Luffy,” Sanji told him.
“Oh!” Luffy chirped, “Like us?”
“Exactly,” Nami praised, “Thank you, Sanji.”
“No problem,” Sanji gave her a nod.
“Alright,” Nami grabbed her purse and slung it around her shoulders, “So, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go have dinner with Rayleigh and Shakky and see where to go from here. I’m going to try my damnedest to get this man to be your publicist. While I’m gone, you’re welcome to hang out here and try to get some work done, but all I ask is that you don’t trash my apartment. If you do, I’m personally kicking your ass. Do we understand?”
“Yes, ma’am…”
“Wonderful,” Nami smiled sweetly, “Don’t wait up, boys. Love you!”
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Things were oddly quiet in Luffy and Zoro’s apartment. They both stared down blank pieces of paper like something would magically appear on them. And yet, even they weren’t that stupid. They knew they had to put something down. Anything that would appease Nami in some way. But nothing came to them. Nothing would happen. Their pens didn’t move. Their paper didn’t speak to them. They were both drawing complete and total blanks.
“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugh…” Luffy groaned, flopping onto his back, “This sucks! How are we supposed to be idols if we can’t even write any lyrics?”
“Wait a second,” Zoro pointed out, “Can’t we just hire someone to write lyrics for us? Isn’t that a thing that exists?”
“Yeah,” Luffy sighed out, “But come on, Zoro. We’re better than this. We just need a little bit of inspiration. I know we said we started our idol journey for the sake of Nami getting away from Arlong, but this should actually mean something to us, too.”
“Then, maybe your song should be about Nami,” Zoro teased him, “If she means that much to you.”
“All my friends mean that much to me,” Luffy awed, “And that means you, too. Which is why I’m trying to help you out here. You know, I could call my dad and ask him for help.”
“Seriously?” Zoro perked up, “Could you actually do that? Isn’t he on tour right now?”
“Well…Yeah,” Luffy nodded, “And he’s probably busy. I don’t know what he’d be doing right now or what time it is where he is right now, but he’s probably busy. He usually is. I mean, the last time I called him, he was trying to sleep. But who’s to say where in the world he is right now?”
“You should call him anyway,” Zoro insisted, “The worst he can do is not answer, right? And if he doesn’t answer, he’s either busy or sleeping. Simple as that. Because this is absolute fucking agony, Luffy. We’re both screwed here if we can’t figure out something to give Nami.”
“Alright, alright,” Luffy grabbed his phone off his nightstand and flopped back down on the living room floor, “I’ll call my dad. See what he has to say about this.”
“Thank you…” Zoro got up from the floor and grabbed a couple of sodas from the fridge, handing one off to Luffy.
Luffy scrolled through his contacts until he got to his dad, “If he doesn’t answer, what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Zoro got back down to the floor, “Cross our fingers, make a deal with some kind of demon, and hope for the best?”
“Sounds fair…” Luffy hit send and put his phone on speaker.
“Hey, kid,” Dragon picked up almost immediately. Something Luffy wasn’t expecting, but he certainly appreciated it, “Twice in one week? Is one of us dying?”
“He fucking better not be, Dragon!” a familiar voice barked out in the back.
“Hi, Baba,” Luffy melted inside, “Hi, Dad.”
“So, what’s up?” Dragon asked, “What’s the occasion?”
“So, I’m sitting here with a friend of mine,” Luffy began.
“No…” Dragon groaned, “Luffy, no. I don’t do private conversations, Luffy. You know better than that.”
“No,” Luffy assured him, “It’s actually a friend of mine. It’s Zoro. He’s my roommate.”
“Oh,” Dragon let it go, “Ok…That’s better. So, what’s the problem? You need me to kick his ass?”
“Please,” Zoro scoffed under his breath, “Like he could…”
“What was that?” Dragon asked, knowing every word that just came out of Zoro’s mouth.
“We’re in the middle of trying to write a song,” Luffy regained control of the conversation, “And we’re struggling. It’s starting to kill us a little bit. Writer’s block is driving us nuts, so I figured…Maybe you’d be able to help us out.”
“Ouch,” Dragon cringed, knowing the feeling all too well, “That sucks, kid. Been there. Alright, so here’s what you want to do. Have you ever written lyrics before?”
“No…”
“Nope.”
“I’m dealing with amateurs,” Dragon sighed out, “Alright, alright. So, here’s what you do. Or at least, here’s what I’ve done for the last two and a half decades. What’s something you feel strongly about? It doesn’t matter if it’s positive or negative. What’s something you feel strongly about?”
“Food.”
“Booze.”
“Take this seriously, boys,” Dragon brought them back, “You need to find something deep within yourselves. Shake that shit loose and write what falls out. That right there is where you’ll find your song.”
“And…” Luffy hoped, “This works?”
“Every time,” Dragon confirmed, “It’s why I didn’t cut out your counting and babbling in the intro to Cradle, Luffy. That song was all about you.”
“Really?” Luffy had heard Cradle over and over again whether it was on the radio or streaming elsewhere. Never did he ever figure out that was about him.
“Oh, yeah,” Dragon went on, “I wrote the melody from one of your lullabies. I was dealing with the struggles of new parenthood while wrestling with the way I was raised all at the same time. A couple of lines from Baba, too.”
“Thank you,” Crocodile droned in the background, “You better be giving me credit for those, Dragon.”
“Of course,” Dragon promised, “Just trust me. Get a little too far into your head. That’s where some of the best lyrics come from. It’s scary shit. I’m not going to sugar coat that for you. It is fucking terrifying. But it’s therapeutic once you get it out. That should help somewhat.”
“Ok…” Luffy had a strange feeling that he had never felt before. It was oddly warm, but not in the usual way his feelings were. This was something entirely new, “So, when I-”
“I have to go, Luffy,” Dragon cut him off, “I got an interview to get to in the next ten minutes and I’m already running late. Vegas is a hell of a city to get through.”
“Oh…” Luffy blinked a couple times, not expecting Dragon to be in and out so quickly, “Ok, Dad.”
“Love you.”
Click.
“Luffy…?” Zoro noticed something off. He wasn’t usually home whenever Luffy would call Dragon. Or whenever Dragon would call Luffy. That was just something he handled on his own. He never asked for any kind of help or anything like that. He didn’t need it. He could handle a conversation with his dad. Even though they were always brief. And more often than not, they were cut off by something. By exhaustion, by a show, by an interview, by someone needing him for something else. Zoro had never seen Luffy after a conversation with Dragon before. And this wasn’t something he ever needed to see again, “You ok?”
“Yeah,” Luffy finished off his soda, “But I think I get what he meant. To find something deep within the recesses of your mind and write it down. Zoro, I think I got it.”
And so, Luffy started to write. Luffy stared down at that page and wrote. Line after line after line. And Zoro just watched in amazement. He still had nothing, but Luffy…Luffy was a different monster. Luffy wrote like his hand would explode if he stopped. Luffy wrote until his hand cramped up and pushed through the pain. Every word, every phrase, anything that popped into his thoughts ended up on that paper.
A little while later, Nami walked out of her massage feeling like she was born again. Ugh…That was needed. That was needed so much. If I were unattached, Sanji, I might actually consider sleeping with you tonight…Nami giggled to herself, knowing that was entirely untrue. In your twisted fucking dreams. I love you to death, Sanji, but the closest we’re ever going to get to sleeping with each other is if we’re having a slumber party and you promise not to put a hand on any of us. Although, if we’re having a slumber party, chances are, we’re at Robin’s. And there’s no way in hell Franky would allow something like that to happen. However, whenever Nami came out, she saw Sanji in the waiting room with a legal pad next to him and his knees in his chest. And tearstains down his face.
“Sanji…?” Nami sat down next to him, an arm immediately around him, “What’s wrong? What happened? Let me guess. You got hit too hard in the vagus nerve.”
“No,” Sanji’s voice broke. And it broke Nami’s heart, “It’s not that at all.”
“Hold on,” Nami went up to the reception desk, “Excuse me. Can I get some water please?”
“Of course,” the lady behind the counter reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water, “Here you are.”
“Thank you,” Nami went back to Sanji and let him lay in her shoulder. He was in too much of a state to try anything, so she wasn’t worried, “Alright, Sanji. You’re going to have to tell me what’s wrong. Take a drink and talk.”
“Ok…” Sanji popped the cap on his water bottle and drank half of it in one go. This was it. He finally had to talk. He had to tell someone. Who better than Nami? Nami, who would be the closest to understanding anything about what he went through, “I don’t think it was my vagus nerve getting hit, Nami. Everything was going great. I was starting to get comfortable and relax and everything was feeling a hell of a lot better than it did when we came in. And then…I got a phone call.”
“Oh, no,” Nami awed, “Is everything ok? The Baratie’s still standing? Zeff’s alright?”
“Yeah,” Sanji nodded, “It’s not anything on that end. My…My father called me.”
“I thought you said Zeff was fine,” Nami pointed out.
“No…” Although, Sanji would be lying if he said hearing Nami call Zeff his father didn’t warm his heart in all the ways he needed, “My biological father called me.”
“Oh,” Nami didn’t hear Sanji talk about his family much. And when he did, it was never in a positive light. She figured that was one of those things better left not brought up, “And…How did that go?”
“Not good, Nami,” Sanji let out a heavy sigh, “Not good…Hey. Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course,” Nami took his hand, “But if it’s just going to make you hurt more, I don’t think we need to go down that route today.”
“No,” Sanji held his ground, “We do. Because it’s the only way I can properly explain what happened. Because I think I need to get this off my chest. I’ve held onto it a little too long. And if I’m going to tell someone, I think you’re the one to tell.”
“Because I’m already here?” Nami figured.
“Because you might get it,” Sanji corrected her.
“Not here then,” Nami decided, helping Sanji back onto his feet, “Because I think that water can only get you so far. We should go to the tearoom uptown.”
“Matcha Blossom?” Sanji asked, “You want to take me to Matcha Blossom? Nami, I’m flattered.”
“Come on,” Nami gave him a little shove, “Let’s go.”
Sanji wasn’t expecting Nami to wine and dine him, but he knew what this was really about. Just in case things go a little further with their idol career, the spa staff didn’t need to hear what Sanji was about to say. No one needed to have that kind of information on Sanji. Nami would be bad enough. But at least Nami could be trusted with it. But still, Nami brought Sanji off to the Matcha Blossom Tearoom. It was a cozy place uptown. A fancy place, but cozy. Nami didn’t make it that way often, but when she did, it was always worth it.
“Alright, sweetie,” Nami took their teapot and started pouring, “Spill. What’s with the phone call? What did your father have to say?”
“He knows about me jumping into the idol racket,” Sanji confessed, “But it’s more than just that. In order for you to fully understand what’s going on…Nami, this isn’t my first time on the idol circuit.”
“What…?” Nami put the teapot down, “What do you mean, this isn’t your first time on the idol circuit? Sanji, you’ve done drag. You’ve never been an idol. That’s not the same thing.”
“I know,” Sanji nodded, “But a long time ago, before I met any of you…Hell, before I even met Zeff and you know how far we go back…”
“This does,” Sanji reached for his tea, his hands still shaking. But he managed to get the orange blossom oolong blend Nami ordered for them up to his lips, “I was just a kid. And my father was a money hungry prick. He still is, but he was then, too. I know I don’t talk about them much, but I do have siblings. Three brothers and an older sister.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your siblings,” Nami thought back, “In the time we’ve been friends, I don’t ever remember you saying you had siblings.”
“But I do,” Sanji confirmed, “Granted, my brothers are…fucking psychotic primadonnas, the whole lot of them. My father put us in casting calls from the time we could walk and talk. I was taught to read by looking at lyric sheets. We got pushed into the business young…Super young…We were six years old and already booking gigs. Just the casual commercial spot here and there. But once we got a little older, we were getting asked about musical theatre. And we gave it a try. We weren’t ones for acting, but we could sing and dance. And that’s what mattered. That’s when my father started seeing dollar signs a little too hard. Because we could end up as an idol group. And it was fucking miserable. Imagine being ten years old, on the cusp of puberty, and having every awkward and uncomfortable thing that accompanies that to be on full display and under a microscope for the general public to see.”
“Eww…” Nami cringed, “No, thank you.”
“And that was just one little part of it,” Sanji went on, “It was the worst on me…”
“Why?”
“Fuck if I know,” Sanji sipped his tea, “Actually, Nami, do you think we could go outside?”
“Let me guess,” Nami assumed, “You need a cigarette?”
“Big time.”
“How many have you had today?” she asked.
“Well…” Sanji pulled out his cigarette case and counted, “Two. Once this morning when I first woke up and once before I left this morning.”
“Alright,” Nami allowed, “Because you have the voice of a goddamn angel and we can’t have that ruined.”
“I know,” Sanji still popped one out of the case and grabbed his lighter out of his pocket, “Outside.”
“How about this instead?” Nami flagged down their waiter, “Excuse me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he walked over to their table, “Did you need something?”
“Could we have a table on the terrace?” she requested.
“Of course,” the waiter agreed, getting a cart for their tea and the tiered snack tray that came along with it, “Do you have somewhere specific you’d like?”
“Anywhere on the terrace,” Nami reiterated, “That’s fine.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the waiter wheeled the cart out to the terrace and got everything resituated on their table, “Will this do?”
“Yes, thank you,” Nami smiled sweetly while Sanji pulled out her chair. If they were on the terrace, that meant them being outside. Them being outside meant Sanji could chain smoke to his heart’s content.
“If you need anything,” the waiter assured her, “Please let me know.”
“We will,” Nami sat down and made herself comfortable while the waiter walked away, “There. Go ahead, Sanji. I know you’re stressed. I know you’re miserable. And I know whatever you’re about to talk about is only going to make things worse. But this is a rabbit hole we go down together.”
“And this is why you’re my favorite, Nami,” Sanji lit up his cigarette and took his first drag, letting the buzz rush through his body, “So…For whatever reason, that asshole was harder on me than he was my brothers. My sister would act as our manager for the most part. And it took them a while, but everyone we worked with took her seriously. She knew what she was doing. She knew how to get us taken care of. And she was fucking militant. But that was just Reiju. That’s how she operated. It’s how things were. She’s still one of the youngest idol managers in history. She was sixteen and managing her twelve year old brothers.”
“Wait,” Nami tried to do the math in her head, but something wasn’t adding up, “Her twelve year old brothers? You said you had three brothers and then, you would make it four. How did she have four twelve year old brothers?”
“We were a set of quadruplets, Nami,” Sanji explained, “Which made us even more appealing to agencies. We were rare, exotic, whatever you want to call it. How often did you see a set of quadruplets that were also an idol group?”
“You don’t.”
“You don’t,” Sanji let out a cloud of smoke, “Because that doesn’t exist. However, with my brothers and me, it did. Because that’s what our father wanted. Our mom was gone, so that gave him free reign to do whatever the hell he wanted. No matter how hard I trained, I was never good enough for him. My steps were always half a beat off. My vocals were pitchy. I was gaining weight. All while my brothers could kill a man and it’d be so quickly written off. But that’s why I am the way I am with Monster Heart. I’m the closest the group has to an actual idol. Because I’m the only one who has actually been an idol. Put it this way, Nami. You had Arlong. I had Judge.”
“Oh…” Nami’s face crinkled in disgust, “Yeah. No. Yuck. I wouldn’t wish anyone to have their own Arlong. Was he really that bad?”
“Did Arlong ever put a shock collar on you?” Sanji asked, “Did Arlong bind your feet because if they got any bigger, it’d throw your balance off?”
“No,” Nami sighed out, “He’d just hit me if I did anything he didn’t like.”
“Of all the things he did in the name of training,” Sanji went on, finishing off his cigarette, “I got to a point where I stood up to him. I wasn’t going to perform. I wasn’t going on stage. I wasn’t going to do it anymore. And that led me to a metal cage around my head. Because if I had that metal cage around my head, I couldn’t bite anyone. I’d be left alone in the hotel rooms with that metal cage on my head and handcuffed to the bed. My brothers didn’t know about that. But Reiju…Reiju ended up finding out. She had gone back to the hotel room one night while my brothers and my father were having dinner. She said she wasn’t feeling well, so she was going to call it an early night. She opened up the hotel room and found me. And she let me free. That’s when I ended up running off to Zeff. He was the head chef in the hotel’s kitchen. Reiju knew she couldn’t let me just roam through the hotel on my own. Judge was bound to find me. So, she found a cart in the hall that was on its way back to the kitchen. She knew I’d be safe there. Zeff was closing things up for the night and he found me. Indentations around my wrists, bruises where the metal cage was. And you want to know the most fucked up part about that?”
“Sanji,” Nami’s voice broke, “You’re admitting years of severe child abuse to me. What could be worse?”
“The fact that he let me go,” Sanji remembered, sipping his tea, “He told me to get the fuck out of his sight and that I disgusted him…That was my first night with Zeff. Because Zeff took me home with him. Zeff put me in his guest room for the night and the minute I was asleep, I had one of the most horrific nightmares I’ve ever had in my life…I didn’t sleep in the guest room that night. I slept in Zeff’s room, so he could keep an eye on me. For the first time in my life, I was actually kept watch over for the sake of my wellbeing and not for the sake of profit. I was twelve years old and experienced love for the first time since my mother died…She died when I was four, Nami. I don’t know if you know what it’s like to go without love for eight years from your parents, but I don’t recommend it.”
“I can’t say I do…” Nami always had her warm memories of her parents. Of Rosinante and Bellemere. Even if she was adopted and would never know her birth parents, she couldn’t have been happier with the ones she lucked out with, “Sanji…If the idol life was so hard on you then, why are you getting back into it now?”
“I’m a little more mentally developed,” Sanji pointed out, “I got a better head on my shoulders. Doing drag with Iva kind of…worked as a weird type of exposure therapy for me. Because it wasn’t being an idol I hated. It was being under my father’s thumb. It was the fucking worst. But doing drag with Iva…That was a fantastic experience. I was taking care of myself. I was getting myself ready. I knew my own limits of what I was and wasn’t comfortable with. It was a hell of a lot better than being an idol for Judge. And that’s probably the biggest reason of why I’m doing this. Other than to help you out, of course.”
“Of course…”
“I want to make it on my own,” Sanji got quiet, “I want to prove to myself and to him that I didn’t need him in the first place. That I didn’t need him and his connections to get me recognized. To make it. I got my best friends in the world instead. I have my real family. And that’s all I need. He can fuck off.”
“Wait,” Nami thought back to her own childhood. The soft, warm memories that were soundtracked by some of the best music she would ever hear from both Rosinante and Bellemere…And of course, any sort of bubblegum pop that would naturally infect Nami’s developing brain like a fungus. And in that, she seemed to remember a group of kids her age that had some of the most hypnotic melodies she had ever heard in her life, “Sanji…Were you part of…?”
“Germa 66?” Sanji figured, “Yep. That was us.”
“No way!” Nami gasped, “Germa 66 was huge!”
“Yeah,” Sanji shuddered, “I know. They’re still together, too. Which is bullshit because I’m not part of it anymore, but Judge said I died in a car accident, so…There we are. Lucky me. I got to die and come back to life. I don’t use the Vinsmoke name anymore, so I’m good with that.
Nami got up and sat back down in Sanji’s lap, her arms around his neck as tight as she could without strangling him. She fought back tears tooth and nail and never ever wanted Sanji to suffer ever again, “Thank you, Sanji. You never needed them in the first place.”
“Of course, Nami,” Sanji cradled her against his chest, “You know I’d do anything for you. Tell you what. I’ll do my best for you if you do your best for the good of the group. Ok? Sound good?”
“Deal,” Nami promised, “It sucks we had to go through so much hell to get here…”
“Yeah, it does,” Sanji ran his fingers down Nami’s spine, offering what little comfort he could, “But at least this time around, my manager is a little better. A little gentler. Not acting under my father’s orders. Right?”
“I couldn’t pick your father out of a lineup, Sanji,” Nami pointed out, “Unless we’re talking about Zeff.”
“And you’re better off for it,” Sanji cracked a little smile, “And just so this isn’t a surprise…Could you keep this between us? It’s not exactly something I need to have be public knowledge.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Nami swore, “You know…We should probably check in on the boys. Make sure they’re still functional.”
Sanji had his phone in his hand, “Already rallying the troops. Should we meet back at your place?”
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Horny thought/request for the GC. Does anyone have any fic recs where Roger and Rayleigh are edging the fuck out of Garp and being absolute little shits about it? Thank you.
It wasn’t often they actively decided to go to the Baratie. It was always just the place they ended up. Then again, Sanji usually ate there for free and Zeff had a soft spot in his heart for all of his friends. So, where better to go? Although, Nami was wrecked already. She didn’t know being a manager would’ve taken so much out of her, but there she was, catching the hangover Shanks had. And yet, the others couldn’t stop buzzing.
“I wonder what our studio’s going to be like,” Luffy thought it over, “I remember when I was a kid, I went into the studio with my dad once. But that was ages ago. I was maybe…four? Five, tops? I made it onto the album! I don’t have a credit on it, but I made it on the album.”
“What’s the song, Luffy?” Zoro asked.
“I think it’s Cradle,” Luffy scratched his head, “But who knows? That was fifteen years ago.”
“That’s a good one,” Law nodded, “Really? That has little you in it?”
“Mmhm,” Luffy went on, “I was just learning to count, but because of who my dad is, I really had one to four mastered. I had my teachers wondering why I could always get up to four, but after that, it was hazy. Unless I started with five. Then, I could hit five through eight with no hesitation.”
“You really are a musician’s kid,” Law chuckled to himself.
“Last I checked,” Luffy chirped, “I got it figured out eventually, though.”
“I’d be worried if you didn’t,” Sanji held his face in his hands, “But I’m sure it’s just a standard setup. They’re not going to get anything fancy for us until we start bringing in revenue. It’s probably just a booth, the computers, and any of the equipment.”
“Something I should’ve asked earlier,” Nami chimed in, “But can any of you play anything?”
“I can play piano,” Sanji’s hand went up.
And no other hands followed. Nami’s forehead met the table, “Of course…We’re going to need a band, too, Shanks. At least someone for the studio.”
“We’ll be fine,” Sanji assured her, “Besides, that’ll be the producer’s job. They’ll make our beats. We’ll throw some lyrics over it. We’ll be fine.”
“Alright then,” Nami caught a little second wind, “Then, that’s going to be your homework, boys. Write some lyrics. They don’t even have to be good, but I just need something down on paper. I know it’s not going to be easy, but if you can make words rhyme, you can write lyrics. That’s all I’m going to ask of you.”
“We can do that!” Luffy stuck his thumb up.
“Good,” she let out a quiet sigh of relief, “I’m glad I got one of you.”
“How hard can it be?” Law shrugged her off, “I mean, it’s just basic poetry, right? An A-B-C-B rhyme scheme?”
“Good enough for me.” Nami didn’t care how good the lyrics were. As long as they had some kind of lyrics. Someone else could find them, fix them, and make them listenable, “Hey, Zeff?”
“You call, Nami?” Zeff was hanging out behind the bar for the day. It’s not like the Baratie was overly busy. Things were slow on this Monday morning, so why not jump behind the bar?
“Can we get a big order of wings here?” Nami ordered, “If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Of course,” Zeff barked Nami’s order to the kitchen and came back almost in the same breath, “You know, the strangest thing just happened. Some guy came in and ordered a morning after special. Sanji…I only make those for you. How would he know about the morning after special?”
“That was probably Beckman for Shanks,” Luffy figured.
“Wait,” Zeff thought back, “Wasn’t Shanks the guy you went on the date with last night, Nami?”
“That’s the one,” Nami nodded, “He went out after he brought me home and got a little too carried away. I doubt he came back here.”
“No,” Zeff shook his head, “As far as I know, we closed shortly after you two left.”
“But he went out afterward last night,” Nami went on, “And apparently, he’s got a taste for absinthe and decided that despite the fact that we had a meeting today, he needed to go get trashed.”
“Shanks always did have a soft spot in his heart for absinthe,” a voice grumbled from the bar, “And for leaving me interesting voicemails on my phone when he drinks it.”
“The hell are you doing here?” Zoro wondered, already knowing who that was.
“Hello to you, too, Zoro,” Mihawk came down from the bar and pulled up a seat next to their table.
“So, this voicemail,” Law asked, “What was it all about?”
“He said some interesting things,” Mihawk spun the tale, “He said you were getting involved in the idol game, Zoro.”
“Yeah,” Zoro nudged his straw in his soda, “Not because I wanted to. Nami bullied me into it.”
“Nami asked you nicely,” Nami argued, “And you said yes because Luffy said yes. That wasn’t on me. That was simple peer pressure.”
“Your sister knew before I did, Zoro,” Mihawk let out a heavy, melancholic sigh, “I had to hear secondhand…”
“And Perona found out from Nami,” Zoro added, “All because she wanted to get us stylists for the audition. And yet, Perona still didn’t get me.”
“One of these days,” Mihawk decided, his eyes lovingly on Zoro, “I’m going to get you. I’m going to have you. You’re going to have to show up to an awards ceremony at some point in your idol career, Zoro. And if you think you’re not going to have me putting you together for your first awards show, you are sorely mistaken. I’m sure Crocodile has the same thoughts with you, Luffy.”
“And I wouldn’t tell him no,” Luffy allowed, “If that’s what Baba wants, then so be it. I mean, I already have Shakky for my stylist, but if Baba wants to step in, I’m sure she’d step back for that.”
“She wouldn’t have any choice,” Mihawk pointed out, “I know how Crocodile is. If there’s something he wants, he’s going to get it. That’s the way he’s always been.”
“So, this voicemail,” Law brought it back, “What did Shanks say?”
Mihawk just held his face in his hands, beyond exasperated, “I’m not sure if the man needs a seventy-two hour watch, a stint in rehab, or for us to remarry for the sake of him having someone to take care of his ass again.”
“Would you do it?” Zoro asked, “Would you remarry Shanks?”
“There’s no chance in hell,” Mihawk shot that down before it could reach the ears of the universe, “There is no fucking way I’d marry Shanks again. I wouldn’t even look his direction for longer than a one night stand. Just when I was bored and there wasn’t anything on TV. And all of my other options were busy. No. I am not marrying Shanks again. I have better things to waste my time on than him.”
“Aww…” Luffy pouted, “So much for us being kind of brothers, Zoro…”
“Sorry, Luffy,” Zoro shrugged, “I tried.”
“I need another drink,” Mihawk rolled his eyes, “Zeff…”
“Here,” Zeff already had another drink made for him.
“And this is why I keep coming back here,” Mihawk sighed out. But he caught a glimpse of a man standing by the door, waiting for an order. He knew that man. He knew that man too well, “Excuse me, Beckman…”
“Hmm?” Beckman perked up at the sound of his name, “Oh. Hi, Mihawk. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“It has,” Mihawk nodded, “Nothing against you personally, but if I never saw you again, it’d be too soon.”
“That’s fair,” Beckman knew Mihawk didn’t mean anything cruel by it, “Did you need me for something?”
“Is your boss still in his office today?” Mihawk asked.
“Yeah,” Beckman nodded, “He’s hungover as a mother fucker, but he’s there. Yeah. Why?”
“Because,” Mihawk noticed Patty coming out of the kitchen with a to-go bag in his hand and it was quickly intercepted, “I’ll bring him his breakfast. Besides, he has a voicemail that needs to be answered for on my phone.”
“He did call you last night,” Beckman cringed, “Didn’t he?”
“Lucky me, right?” Mihawk rolled his eyes, “Yes. He called me last night. I was busy working, but no. By all means. Call me. Make things awkward and uncomfortable. And make sure it’s sweet and sappy and makes me want to come running back to you. Oh, yes. I’m going to bring Shanks his breakfast. And we’re going to have some words.”
“Understandable,” Beckman knew better than to come between Shanks and Mihawk. That could never be a good thing, “Go ahead. I’m not going to stop you. Roux and Yasopp are standing outside his office right now. Just tell them I said it was ok.”
“Roux and Yasopp know better than to tell me no in the first place,” Mihawk brushed him off, “Children, always nice to see you. Zoro, you could stand to come home more often while I’m in town.”
“You can make that phone call any time,” Zoro retaliated, “If you want to see me, all you have to do is ask.”
“Then, I’d like to see you,” Mihawk put his foot down, “Both you and your sister. You’re both to come for dinner tomorrow night. And if it pleases, you can bring a guest. I’ve made the same offer to Perona and she’s already agreed. However, I do think she’ll be attending alone.”
“I’ll be there,” Zoro promised, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Good,” Mihawk took the bag away from Beckman and headed out.
All while Carne came out with a party sized tray of chicken wings, “Here, Nami. Rumor has it, you were looking for wings.”
“Yay!” the whole table cheered. Everyone was hungry. Everyone was more than happy to tear into that tray of wings. And tear into it, they did.
“Ugh…” Nami swooned, “Thank you, Carne.”
“No problem, sweetheart,” Carne headed back to the kitchen.
“You know what I need?” Nami flattened out on the table.
“What do you need, Nami?” Sanji listened intently, “I’d be more than happy to try and make it happen.”
“I need a massage,” Nami groaned. But then, she remembered who she was saying it to, “By a professional. That was one of those fucked up things I miss about being with Arlong. That was at least every other week.”
“Wow…” Zoro blinked a couple times, “I have a hard time believing that Arlong asshole ever treated you well.”
“He needed me to be loose on camera,” Nami reminded him, “So, he’d make sure I was relatively taken care of. If something made me a little too sore, I’d try to push through, but at the end of the day, I’d end up hurting myself even more and that’s when I’d go get a massage. And they were always so good. Goddamn, do I miss those. Maintenance day was always my favorite.”
“Wait, Sanji,” Nami wondered, “When did you get maintenance day?”
“Um…” Sanji tensed up a bit, but he tried not to let it show too much. He let out a few breaths before remembering Nami asked him a question, “When I started working for Iva, there were some services his salon didn’t offer, so we’d actually go together. And sometimes, he just didn’t feel like working on me. There was a place we would go every now and then. If you want, Nami, I can take you there. They do a fantastic job and no one will ask you questions about what happened between you and Arlong.”
“Sold,” Nami approved, “I’m really blowing through this bonus check…”
“As well you should,” Sanji assured her, “Nami, you deserve every bit of that. I’m sure this isn’t going to be a controversial thing to say at this table, but fuck Arlong.”
“Fuck Arlong,” Law raised his glass.
“Fuck Arlong,” Zoro joined him.
“Fuck Arlong!” Luffy wasn’t too far behind.
“Didn’t think so,” Sanji took Nami’s hand, “If you want, we can go right now. I’m sure if I dropped Iva’s name, we wouldn’t even have a wait time.”
“Thank you, Sanji,” Nami kissed his cheek, “Anyone else have any other favors they could call in for me?”
“I talked to my dad the other day!” Luffy chimed in.
“That’s great, Luffy,” Nami praised, “But other than the promo, I don’t think there’s much that your dad can do for us. For now, I think I’m just going to go get my massage and call it a day. Sound good? Sounds good to me, too. Behave yourselves, boys. And remember. You got a little homework to do. Just one page of lyrics. That’s all I ask for.”
“Go enjoy yourself, Nami,” Law hugged his sister tight, “And don’t get in your own way, alright?”
“I won’t,” Nami finished off her lemonade and started heading out.
“And Sanji…” Law caught his attention, “Play nice.”
“I always do,” Sanji promised. But he knew what Law meant. Nami’s got a girlfriend. Nami’s in a happy relationship. Don’t do anything to screw that up. However, Sanji knew things that Law didn’t. And for the time being, that’s how they were going to stay.
On the other side of town, a giant building stood tall. Anyone passing by would have mistaken it for a hospital or some kind of private medical facility. That wasn’t entirely the case. That was where Sanji would take Nami for their afternoon. Nami needed to unwind. Sanji needed to keep an eye on Nami…and also indulge himself in a little pampering, too. He wasn’t going to say no to that. So, why not? When they got to the reception counter, Sanji made all the arrangements. A nice couples’ package. Everything included. Because nothing was too much for Nami.
“Sanji…” Nami’s heart melted the second she got her itinerary, “This was so sweet of you. You didn’t have to go this far for me.”
“Of course, I did,” Sanji threw an arm around her shoulders, “Nami, you’re busting your ass for us. You can have a little bit of maintenance day, too. You know, one of these days, we should get the others in for this, too.”
“Oh, God,” Nami held her face in her hands, “Yeah, you’re right, but there’s no way that would end well. I’m sure that for the sake of argument, they’d behave themselves, but a jar of sugar scrub would end up down Luffy’s throat. Zoro couldn’t even sit through Iva without a little chemical assistance. Law is a finicky bitch. I don’t know…I doubt this would be something any of them would be into. Hard pass. If I’m going to stress myself out doing something designed to destress me, there’s no point.”
“Well…” Sanji left a kiss on top of Nami’s head, “I’ll see you soon. Go relax. You deserve it.”
“Thank you, Sanji,” Nami was more than ok with going to lay on the table for the next hour. It’s all she could ever ask for.
Sanji, however, would have a different experience. Sanji smiled at his masseuse and made himself comfortable. He wasn’t typically one to have a conversation with his masseuse. One of those things from earlier on in his life that just seemed to stick. But that was alright. His masseuse wasn’t the chatty type anyway. So, instead of yapping her ear off, Sanji started to space out while she took care of the knots in his muscles.
So, Nami needs a page of lyrics, huh? I’m sure I could do that. Hell, I used to do that in my sleep. Whenever I could sleep anyway. Whenever I got to sleep. But right now, things are so good. I could write about Nami herself. I’m sure she’d appreciate that. Vivi, though…? Maybe not as much. I could live awfully dangerous and write about Zoro. No. I couldn’t do that. Our friends don’t even know about us. I don’t need them finding out the same way as our fans. That needs to come from us first.
Bzz…
Sanji felt his phone against his thigh in his robe pocket. Something he wasn’t totally expecting. Then again, Sanji did leave Zoro alone with Luffy to write some lyrics together. There’s no way that worked out well. Sanji just chuckled to himself, “Could you excuse me? I need to take this.”
“Of course, sir,” Sanji’s masseuse left the room and let him take his call.
But then, Sanji looked down at his phone screen. And that wasn’t Zoro…Suddenly, his good feeling was gone. Still, he answered the call. Albeit reluctantly, “What do you want?”
“You typically start a conversation with hello,” a voice thundered on the other end, “You were raised better.”
“How the hell would you know?” Sanji rolled his eyes.
“Sanji…”
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Sanji brushed him off, “So I don’t have any apologies to make. I’ll ask again. What do you want? You don’t call me unless you want something.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Sanji?” he growled.
“I’m in the middle of having stress and tension knots rubbed out of my shoulders,” Sanji reported, “If you really have to know.”
“You know damn well that’s not what I meant. Grand Fleet Records. Does it ring any bells for you?”
“Can’t say it does.” Sanji felt his stomach drop to his feet.
“Cut the shit. You think I don’t have people all over this industry? PR, agents, managers, label execs…There’s no one who doesn’t know my name. I make sure of that. And someone I know at Grand Fleet said he saw you walking into the CEO’s office today. What’s that all about?”
“None of your business…” Sanji just wanted the call to be over. He just wanted to throw his phone against the wall and pretend like it never happened. But he froze, “You don’t give two shits about me, Judge. What do you want?”
“You’re still my son,” he stood his ground, “Everything you do is my business.”
“Oh, so now, I’m your son?” Sanji snapped, “I break away from the family and you still think you can control me? You still think you have some kind of hand on me? No, the fuck you don’t.”
“But I do…” Judge sneered, “You can’t join another group, Sanji. You’re not out of your contract yet.”
“No,” Sanji shook his head, “I’m out of my contract. My contract broke the day I turned eighteen. “
“But you’re still mine,” Judge growled, “And you will always be my burden. I don’t know what you’re up to, but it’s not going to work. You need me and you know-”
Click.
Sanji’s phone slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. No. No, I’m not. I never was. I never will be again. I’m away from you. You’re not here. You’re not here. Sanji ran his hands through his hair, his entire body shaking. You’re not here. You’re not coming here. You don’t know where I am. You won’t be here. I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe. And yet, Sanji still couldn’t stop shaking. He sat down on the table before his knees gave out and quietly continued his panic spiral.
“Excuse me…?” his masseuse came back in, not expecting to see Sanji in such a state, “Sir, are you ok?”
“I need a pen and paper,” Sanji ordered, “Right now.”
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