Oh look~ More fic~ 8D
Aug. 8th, 2011 05:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moe81Title: In Good Hands
Rating: M
Pairing: Sanji/Zoro (mostly nakama except for Zoro's ass obsession)
A/N: Prompt from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
500themes : Broken Weapon
The clashing of blades and bodies and the rapport of gunfire sounded across the island, interspersed with the crashing of building as they were turned into rubble. The air was thick with gunpowder and smoke and Sanji’s eyes watered as he tried to spot any of his nakama.
In his present situation, he wasn’t above asking for help and his pilfered pistol was fast running out of ammunition. He was, quite literally, a sitting duck. He flinched as another tremor struck the ground around him and jolted through his body. A couple of times he thought he’d spotted a straw hat or bright blue hair but it was too damn hard to tell. His general vicinity was suddenly filled with cut off screams and liquid gurgling.
“Cook! What the fuck are you doing?”
Ah, the melodious sound of a green-haired oaf. Sanji lit a cigarette in victory. “Having a fucking tea party, shitty marimo, and all my friends were invited.” Several marines lunged for him but he was faster on the trigger. Blood exploded every which way and Zoro dodged the mess. Sanji gave the swordsman’s outfit a once over. Not that it would have made a lot of difference anyway.
Zoro moved closer him, doing swordsmen everywhere a great justice and slicing up the enemy in the most poetic of ways. Sanji made a face when one of the bodies was thrown his way and landed with a wet splat in front of him. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“That would be you.” Sanji indicated behind Zoro with his cigarette. The swordsman turned as a club was coming down for his head. A slash here and a stab there and the club and its wielder went tumbling down. Sheathing his sword, Zoro ran a bloodied hand through his hair leaving a dark streak reminiscent of the shittiest mohawk Sanji had seen in a long time. He was like an animal in unwashed clothing.
Zoro tripped over a dead body and Sanji smirked at him around his cigarette. The swordsman’s steps slowed as he reached Sanji’s side and the blond wondered how long it would take for realisation to set it. The world seemed to pause for a split second as a gold eye stared at him in dawning horror.
Apparently not long.
One leg was splayed out to his side at an awkward angle and the other was twisted even more awkwardly under him. Blood pooled in the dirt from open wounds where bone had ripped through skin and material.
Sanji didn’t have to look down at the grotesque sight. He knew what was there and he was beyond trying to rationalise any reasoning behind it, other than the universe was out to fuck him around again. Zoro, however, seemed to take it personally.
“How the hell did you let that happen?”
Sanji felt an odd sense of giddy happiness at the accusation ringing in Zoro’s tone and he patted himself down in search of another cigarette, crushing the other between his fingers. “Oh, I had a plan for this and everything. It was really quite brilliant. I was going to make diagrams but time just got away from me.”
Zoro stared at him in comical disbelief and Sanji wondered if the swordsman even remembered any of his close brushes of being near-fatally wounded. The scar on his broad chest was a big fucking clue. The anger rolled off his nakama in waves and Sanji was grateful he was conscious; he had no idea what the other man would have done if he was out cold.
“I’m so kicking your ass if you die here.”
“Hm. Well, dying isn’t in my schedule at the moment but it might take me a while to be able to kick yours, so until then how about you give us a lift.” Sanji held his arms out and looked expectantly at the swordsman.
Zoro blinked at him a few times and then shifted so that Sanji could turn into a leech and hang off his back. Sanji wrapped his arms around Zoro’s shoulders and he felt the swordsman hesitate over his legs dangling uselessly at the side, before reaching back and settling his hands under Sanji’s butt. Zoro hitched him higher and Sanji sucked in a breath at the jolt to his lower limbs. Zoro stilled and Sanji took a breath, trying to focus his thoughts on the big hands spanning his ass cheeks and not the pain ripping through him.
“Much as I don’t mind a good grope, marimo, don’t you think you’re holding on a little tight?”
Zoro clenched teeth and kicked at a marine about to impale them. “Shut your hole, curly-dick, or I’ll drop you on it right here.”
Sanji grinned. “Sure, sure.” Zoro kicked another marine. "Although I'm flattered, your imitation of my fighting style is rather appalling." A grunt and another kick. “Would you like a sword, moss-man?”
The grumbling from Zoro became a long string of expletives and Sanji was quite impressed at the image it created. Although he had to wonder if doing that with an umbrella and his tie was even possible. It certainly wouldn’t be comfortable at any rate.
Zoro dodged several men and spun around as he tripped another up. Sanji’s body jarred at the action and his fingers clenched at Zoro’s skin, nails digging in hard. His breath came in short pants and his vision blurred momentarily.
“Chopper is so gonna kick your ass.”
Sanji rested his forehead on Zoro’s shoulder. “Don’t think I’ll feel it. Your grip is making my ass numb.”
“Fuck, don’t you ever shut up,” but the fingers curved around his posterior relaxed and Sanji was almost sure that they even massaged for good measure. At least he had feeling in the lower part of his body now.
His brain was slower to catch up and it took him a moment to wonder why he was suddenly staring over the edge of a cliff. He rolled his eyes and patted Zoro’s chest. “Get a little lost?”
Zoro growled in response and set off in a different direction. Occasionally Sanji would tug on Zoro’s earrings, pointing the swordsman in the direction of the Sunny. “Just like leading a horse.”
Zoro’s colourful swearing eventually dwindled off and the swordsman told him, in no uncertain terms, that he’d better actually call for help next time or so help him, he was going to break Sanji’s legs himself and then drag his ass over hot coals until he blistered and couldn’t sit down for a week.
It seemed like Zoro was developing an unhealthy obsession for his backside. He wriggled his hips and settled more comfortably into the marimo’s hold, happy that his legs – and ass – were in good hands.
Rating: M
Pairing: Sanji/Zoro (mostly nakama
A/N: Prompt from
500themes : Broken Weapon The clashing of blades and bodies and the rapport of gunfire sounded across the island, interspersed with the crashing of building as they were turned into rubble. The air was thick with gunpowder and smoke and Sanji’s eyes watered as he tried to spot any of his nakama.
In his present situation, he wasn’t above asking for help and his pilfered pistol was fast running out of ammunition. He was, quite literally, a sitting duck. He flinched as another tremor struck the ground around him and jolted through his body. A couple of times he thought he’d spotted a straw hat or bright blue hair but it was too damn hard to tell. His general vicinity was suddenly filled with cut off screams and liquid gurgling.
“Cook! What the fuck are you doing?”
Ah, the melodious sound of a green-haired oaf. Sanji lit a cigarette in victory. “Having a fucking tea party, shitty marimo, and all my friends were invited.” Several marines lunged for him but he was faster on the trigger. Blood exploded every which way and Zoro dodged the mess. Sanji gave the swordsman’s outfit a once over. Not that it would have made a lot of difference anyway.
Zoro moved closer him, doing swordsmen everywhere a great justice and slicing up the enemy in the most poetic of ways. Sanji made a face when one of the bodies was thrown his way and landed with a wet splat in front of him. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“That would be you.” Sanji indicated behind Zoro with his cigarette. The swordsman turned as a club was coming down for his head. A slash here and a stab there and the club and its wielder went tumbling down. Sheathing his sword, Zoro ran a bloodied hand through his hair leaving a dark streak reminiscent of the shittiest mohawk Sanji had seen in a long time. He was like an animal in unwashed clothing.
Zoro tripped over a dead body and Sanji smirked at him around his cigarette. The swordsman’s steps slowed as he reached Sanji’s side and the blond wondered how long it would take for realisation to set it. The world seemed to pause for a split second as a gold eye stared at him in dawning horror.
Apparently not long.
One leg was splayed out to his side at an awkward angle and the other was twisted even more awkwardly under him. Blood pooled in the dirt from open wounds where bone had ripped through skin and material.
Sanji didn’t have to look down at the grotesque sight. He knew what was there and he was beyond trying to rationalise any reasoning behind it, other than the universe was out to fuck him around again. Zoro, however, seemed to take it personally.
“How the hell did you let that happen?”
Sanji felt an odd sense of giddy happiness at the accusation ringing in Zoro’s tone and he patted himself down in search of another cigarette, crushing the other between his fingers. “Oh, I had a plan for this and everything. It was really quite brilliant. I was going to make diagrams but time just got away from me.”
Zoro stared at him in comical disbelief and Sanji wondered if the swordsman even remembered any of his close brushes of being near-fatally wounded. The scar on his broad chest was a big fucking clue. The anger rolled off his nakama in waves and Sanji was grateful he was conscious; he had no idea what the other man would have done if he was out cold.
“I’m so kicking your ass if you die here.”
“Hm. Well, dying isn’t in my schedule at the moment but it might take me a while to be able to kick yours, so until then how about you give us a lift.” Sanji held his arms out and looked expectantly at the swordsman.
Zoro blinked at him a few times and then shifted so that Sanji could turn into a leech and hang off his back. Sanji wrapped his arms around Zoro’s shoulders and he felt the swordsman hesitate over his legs dangling uselessly at the side, before reaching back and settling his hands under Sanji’s butt. Zoro hitched him higher and Sanji sucked in a breath at the jolt to his lower limbs. Zoro stilled and Sanji took a breath, trying to focus his thoughts on the big hands spanning his ass cheeks and not the pain ripping through him.
“Much as I don’t mind a good grope, marimo, don’t you think you’re holding on a little tight?”
Zoro clenched teeth and kicked at a marine about to impale them. “Shut your hole, curly-dick, or I’ll drop you on it right here.”
Sanji grinned. “Sure, sure.” Zoro kicked another marine. "Although I'm flattered, your imitation of my fighting style is rather appalling." A grunt and another kick. “Would you like a sword, moss-man?”
The grumbling from Zoro became a long string of expletives and Sanji was quite impressed at the image it created. Although he had to wonder if doing that with an umbrella and his tie was even possible. It certainly wouldn’t be comfortable at any rate.
Zoro dodged several men and spun around as he tripped another up. Sanji’s body jarred at the action and his fingers clenched at Zoro’s skin, nails digging in hard. His breath came in short pants and his vision blurred momentarily.
“Chopper is so gonna kick your ass.”
Sanji rested his forehead on Zoro’s shoulder. “Don’t think I’ll feel it. Your grip is making my ass numb.”
“Fuck, don’t you ever shut up,” but the fingers curved around his posterior relaxed and Sanji was almost sure that they even massaged for good measure. At least he had feeling in the lower part of his body now.
His brain was slower to catch up and it took him a moment to wonder why he was suddenly staring over the edge of a cliff. He rolled his eyes and patted Zoro’s chest. “Get a little lost?”
Zoro growled in response and set off in a different direction. Occasionally Sanji would tug on Zoro’s earrings, pointing the swordsman in the direction of the Sunny. “Just like leading a horse.”
Zoro’s colourful swearing eventually dwindled off and the swordsman told him, in no uncertain terms, that he’d better actually call for help next time or so help him, he was going to break Sanji’s legs himself and then drag his ass over hot coals until he blistered and couldn’t sit down for a week.
It seemed like Zoro was developing an unhealthy obsession for his backside. He wriggled his hips and settled more comfortably into the marimo’s hold, happy that his legs – and ass – were in good hands.
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no subject
Date: 2011-08-08 11:02 pm (UTC)