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portgasdwrld · 1 year ago

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📂 Op men + them being jealous

part 1

Featuring: Monster trio (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

Warning: fluffy fluff, ended up being the monster trio being subtly jealous lol Ik I was going to make it suggestive but I like it better that way, might change it for the others

Note : After 200 weeks, 1500 minutes and 25 years, I’m finally posting this serie after thousands of drafts 👩🏻‍💻 y’all don’t know how many times I wrote and erased stuff 😭

Luffy

The crew just landed on a new island, it was a huge forest, not a person in sight. You weren’t particularly a big fan of walking around in an unknown deserted place, especially in the New World where you never knew on what or who you could fall.

On the other side, Luffy was absolutely fearless and enjoyed the thrill of exploring the unknown and seeing unusual creatures; Sailing was all about that for him. An adventure wasn’t an adventure if he didn’t feel that rush of adrenaline faced to a strange situation. He had insisted you come with the exploring team while you pleaded to stay behind with Robin and Usopp.

But here you were walking glued to Sanji as your boyfriend lead the way somewhere in this lost territory filled with trees and the noises of wild animals. He was screaming in excitement when he came across weird insects or odd looking vegetables. You sighed heavily as the anxiety was still heavily present in your system.

The cook adjusted his pace to match yours sensing your uneasiness about the situation. He knew you only came for Luffy, so he made sure to help you feel more comfortable in his own way.

Luffy ran forward as he noticed a beautiful blue flower tinted with yellow strokes that looked like gentle waves. He took it and searched for you with his eyes.

-This would look so pretty on your hair!

He exclaimed as he walked over to you and Sanji while waving the flower in his tan hand. You smiled as you thought it was adorable, but Luffy’s eyes quickly glared at your arms wrapped around Sanjis. He didn’t say anything and simply fixed the flower behind your ear, complimenting you with loving eyes and his cute grin.

-You look perfect!

He announced as he put his arm around your neck, naturally removing you from Sanji. A giggle left your lips as you melt into his familiar warmth. His eyes looked down at you with so much love and care, he wouldn’t want nothing to happen to you. Sanji laughed as he noticed Luffy successful attempt to get you away from him.

Your boyfriend closed the distance between his face and yours. With slightly furrowed eyebrows and serious eyes, he wondered if you were fine.

-Yeah, I just feel uneasy about walking here if I’m being truly honest. I’m not a fearless warrior like you, let’s say~

You explained calmly as you stared back into his big brown eyes. His expression softened up and he moved his arm to be able to grab your hand instead.

-Alright, then stay close to me only. I’m the strongest, so I will protect you no matter what! I promise!

-You’re sweet, thank you Luffy.

He gave a squeeze to your hand as you two followed the group through the millions of trees. Luffy smiled to himself, knowing you were relying on him to protect you now~

Zoro

It was all going well, a great night where Zoro was simply enjoying his time drinking with the others. It was all going great until he noticed a man that kept staring at you. You didn’t notice as you were busy goofing around with Usopp, enjoying a fun conversation.

Zoro felt this feeling of frustration grow in him the more he glared at the person shamelessly eyeing you like he clearly couldn’t see you were taken. That’s when it snapped for him: maybe they couldn’t tell? And that angered him even more. How can this person stare at you like a candy while he was sitting just next to you.

The swordsman pulled you closer to him, making sure his arm around your waist is noticeable. He smirked relieved when he saw the man look away with an annoyed huff. He took a sip from his beer as his smile got bigger. Zoro took that opportunity to slip a quick peck on your jawline.

You stared at him weirdly, wondering what have gotten into him.

-Wassup with you?

-I cant kiss you or what?

-Yeah, but you don’t usually do that.

-You always complain

He whined as he rolled his eye, but still he was glad that no one was hungrily looking your way anymore. You were his and he would make the possible to make it known. Even if it needed him to be outside of his comfort zone, he was going to make sure you were safe from lingering unwanted eyes (maybe to also make himself feel better)

You gave him a funny look, confused about his unusual bright expression. You pecked his lips not giving too much thoughts about it, before going back to your conversation with Usopp. You leant your body on your boyfriends that surprisingly responded to it by holding your waist tighter and rubbing his thumb against your tummy.

-You’re really acting strange, but I ain’t complaining

You said under your breath so only he could hear. He chuckled as he drank some more. You looked over your shoulder with a smile.

-Great, because you’re not leaving my side tonight.

Sanji

Hand in hand, you two walked through the village in the middle of all the varieties of shops surrounding y’all. You wanted to buy a necklace so you were hopeful to find something of your taste and Sanji was more than willing to help you.

He had already made his grocery shopping with you yesterday and organized everything late in the evening, so it was his rest day. He wanted to enjoy the sunny weather with his awesome lover on this pretty day.

It all started when the seller was proposing you multiple options at the table and he invited you to come in the store for something more refined for a beautiful person like you. Sanji didn't care, because of course you are beautiful, so it was only natural that other people would notice. He nodded excited to see what other options the man had that could fit you even better.

Sanji cocked an eyebrow when the seller pushed your hair behind your shoulders and got close to your face as he commented about you smelling good. You laughed as you thanked him, mentioning how your boyfriend bought the scent for you as you pointed at the cook. He put a gorgeous silver piece around your neck and handed you a mirror.

-What do we think?

He asked with a content expression, you stared at the mirror with a floating smile as you nodded, approving the jewelry.

-It's so gorgeous! Oh! What about this one?

You asked as your eyes flew to a more elegant necklace. You walked away from Sanji quickly as you engaged in a great conversation with the seller about the jewelries and some specific information, that your lover was honestly unfamiliar with. Sanji felt like you kind of forgot about him and started to wander around the store on his own as he kept an eye on you, still.

"...should I get into jewelries.."

It was those type of thoughts that occupied his mind as he sulked in his corner. Though, Sanji is a gentleman and he loved more than anything to see you happy and passionate, so he put his jealousy aside to let you enjoy your moment. So, he put his ego aside and started to think about which one would look hotter on you-

-Chérie, have you find something you liked?

He asked you as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him. You hummed as you looked at the other man and you both nodded, agreeing on something the cook had no clue about.

-I'm going to take this one, what do you think babe?

Sanji kissed your cheeks and whispered in your ears with a smirk.

-They all look beautiful to me, because you are stunning. I don't think I will be of a great help, my love.

You smiled to yourself, because Sanji likes whatever you wear or not. On his end, he just wanted to leave already and pamper you with kisses & hickeys all over your neck to celebrate your new necklace and maybe to let people know you were his..

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xomakara · 4 days ago

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It's You

SUMMARY | You're a publicist secretly in love with your famous client, San, but his manager thinks you should cook up a story about him and his co-star to generate buzz for their upcoming movie. This involves arranging dates and photo ops for the two of them, but you can't help but notice he seems more interested in you.

PAIRINGS | San x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE | smut, actor!San, publicist!Reader, slight angst

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), handjob, oral sex (male giving/female receiving), slight dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration, couch sex, office sex

LENGTH | 3,300 words

TAGLIST | ---

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE | I finally managed to finish this fic that has been sitting in my WIP folder for months. I feel like this one is a bit lackluster compared to my other stuff but I hope you all love and enjoy this. Love you ❤️

"Do you think this is a good idea?" San’s voice cuts through the sterile air of your office, low and gravelly. You glance up from the stack of papers on your desk, meeting his piercing gaze.

"It’s not just a good idea," you say, forcing yourself to sound confident, even though your heart is pounding. "It’s necessary."

San leans forward, resting his elbows on your desk, his face inches from yours. The faint scent of cedarwood and spice invades your senses, making it hard to focus.

"Necessary?" he repeats, his mouth quirking into a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "For who? The movie? Or for you?"

You swallow hard, resisting the urge to look away.

"For both," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "The studio wants buzz, San. They want people talking about you and Jiae. This is how we generate that."

"Buzz," he mutters, running a hand through his tousled hair. His smile fades, replaced by a tense line of frustration. "Yeah, because nothing says 'authentic' like fake dates and staged photo ops."

You bite your lip, glancing down at the script in front of you. The words blur together as your mind races. You know this is the right move. It’s your job, after all—to manage his public image, to protect his career. But when you look back up at him, his expression stops you cold. There’s something raw in his gaze, something that feels... personal.

"San," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know this isn’t ideal, but—"

"Ideal?" he interrupts, leaning closer. "Is it ideal for me to pretend I’m head over heels for someone I can’t stand just so people will buy tickets to a movie? Or is it ideal for you to sit here and tell me how to live my life?"

Your breath catches in your throat. You want to argue, to remind him that this is what fame entails, but the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only person in the room like you’re the one he’s really upset with—makes it impossible to form words.

"San," you start again, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

"Forget it," he says, standing abruptly. He runs a hand through his hair again, pacing across the small space of your office. "I don’t need this right now. I’ll do whatever you want, okay? Just... stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you ask, unable to stop yourself. Your pulse quickens as you realize how close you still are and how vulnerable the moment feels.

San stops pacing, turning to face you. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to leave without another word. But then his eyes lock onto yours, and something shifts.

"Like you care," he murmurs, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

The room falls silent, the tension between you thickening like smoke. You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. Instead, you feel the heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks burning under his scrutiny.

San watches you, his expression unreadable. And then, just as suddenly as it began, he turns on his heel and walks out of the office, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

The truth is, you do care. More than you should, more than you ever intended to.

Ever since San became your client, you’ve been fighting a losing battle against your feelings. His charm, his intensity, the way he somehow manages to balance chaos and control—it’s intoxicating. And every time he looks at you like that, like you’re more than just his publicist, it’s harder to remember why this is a terrible idea.

But it is a terrible idea. You know that better than anyone. Falling for your client? No. You can’t let that happen.

So instead, you throw yourself into planning the fake romance. Dates at trendy restaurants, walks through crowded parks, intimate interviews where he and Jiae can “accidentally” let slip details about their “relationship.” And yet, despite your best efforts, things keep slipping. Like the way San keeps finding excuses to touch you during meetings or the way his eyes linger on you a little too long when he thinks no one’s looking.

Jiae notices, of course. She’s sharp, and perceptive, and she doesn’t miss much. During one of your strategy sessions, she leans back in her chair, appraising you with a knowing smirk.

"This isn’t going to work," she says casually, flipping through your prepared itinerary.

You blink, momentarily thrown. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, please," she laughs, tossing the papers aside. "He’s not interested in me, and you know it."

Your stomach drops. "That’s not—"

"Save it," she interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. "Look, I get it, eonnie. You’re his publicist. You’re supposed to be impartial, professional, blah blah blah. But let’s be real here—the chemistry between us is about as convincing as a cardboard cutout."

You stare at her, unsure of how to respond. Part of you wants to deny it, to insist that everything will go according to plan. But deep down, you know she’s right. San’s energy shifts whenever you’re around, his focus zeroing in on you in a way that makes it impossible to ignore.

"So what do you suggest?" you ask, your voice tight.

Jiae grins, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "I suggest you stop pretending you don’t see it. Because trust me, eonnie, he’s into you."

Before you can muster a rebuttal, she stands, smoothing out her dress. "Have fun with that," she says with a wink, breezing out of the room before you can recover.

Alone again, you sink into your chair, letting her words sink in. He’s into you. Of course, he is. How could he not be? You’re the one who’s always there, the one who knows him better than anyone else. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. If anything, it makes it worse.

Because now you have to figure out how to handle this. Do you continue with the fake romance, pushing your feelings aside in the name of professionalism? Or do you confront San, and risk everything by admitting how you feel?

The thought of either option makes your head spin. But as you sit there, replaying the conversation with Jiae, something stirs in your chest. A flicker of defiance, maybe, or just plain curiosity. What would happen if you gave in? If you let yourself explore this connection, even just for a moment?

Just as you’re about to push yourself up from the chair, the door swings open again. San steps inside, his presence instantly filling the room. He closes the door behind him, his movements deliberate, almost predatory.

"We need to talk," he says simply, his voice steady but charged with something unspoken.

You nod, standing slowly. "About the—"

"Not about the movie," he interrupts, taking a step toward you. "About us."

"Us?" you echo faintly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. Your breath hitches as he closes the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours. San’s gaze softens, his expression shifting from intense to something almost tender.

"Yeah," he murmurs, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, grazing your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. "Us."

Your breath catches in your throat as San’s hand slides from your hair to your jaw, his touch warm and firm. The room seems to shrink around you, the world outside forgotten. All that exists is this moment—this man—and the undeniable pull between you.

“San…” you whisper, a plea and a question all at once. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but you feel it burning in your chest: permission, understanding, something more than just this fragile connection.

His eyes darken, and for a split second, you think he’ll step back, and put some distance between you. But then his other hand cups your face, tilting it up toward his. His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone, and you can feel the tremor in his fingers, the same one reverberating through you.

“I’ve been trying not to do this,” he admits softly, his voice rough with emotion. “Trying to stay professional, to keep things… clean. But I can’t anymore.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly it feels like it might burst out of your chest. “San, we can’t… This isn’t—”

“I know,” he cuts you off, his voice low and urgent. “I know what we’re supposed to be doing. I know how this looks. But none of it matters when I’m standing here looking at you.”

He leans in closer, his breath fanning across your lips, and you wonder if you should pull away, remind him of the consequences, of the boundaries you’ve both spent years erecting. But then his lips brush against yours, gentle at first, testing, seeking permission.

And you give it.

The kiss starts slow, like two people afraid of breaking something too precious. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. San groans into your mouth, his hands tightening on your face as his tongue sweeps inside, claiming you. The sound vibrates through your body, setting every nerve on fire.

You grip his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world tilts dangerously. His taste floods your senses—warm, spicy, entirely intoxicating. You didn’t realize how much you needed this until now, until his lips were on yours, his body pressed against yours, solid and unyielding.

“Jesus, you feel so good,” San murmurs against your mouth, pulling back just enough to nuzzle your neck. He sucks a mark onto your collarbone, his teeth scraping lightly, and you gasp, arching into him.

“San…” you manage, your voice shaky. “We shouldn’t—”

“Screw shouldn’t,” he growls, punctuating the words with another bite. His hands slide down your sides, skimming over your waist before settling on your hips. He tugs you flush against him, and you feel the proof of his desire pressing into your stomach.

You shudder, your brain short-circuiting as heat pools between your thighs. God, he felt incredible even fully clothed. The thought of getting him out of those clothes sends a bolt of desire straight to your core.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes are wild, and desperate, like he’s daring you to put an end to this madness.

But you don’t. You can’t. Not when your body is screaming for more, not when your heart is already halfway to falling for him. Instead, you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your neck, silently begging him to keep going.

San takes the invitation, his lips trailing lower, down the slope of your neck, over your shoulder. He pushes your blazer off your shoulders, letting it pool at your elbows before continuing his assault on your skin. His teeth nip at the exposed flesh above your bra, his tongue soothing the sting with languid swipes.

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust. He drags his lips back up to yours, kissing you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. His hands roam under your blouse, his palms hot against your bare skin.

You suck in a sharp breath as his fingers find the clasp of your bra. With a practiced flick, it releases, and your breasts spill free. San groans, cupping them in his hands, his thumbs grazing your hardened nipples.

“So perfect,” he whispers, lowering his head to take one into his mouth. He alternates between sucking and nibbling, his tongue laving circles around your sensitive peak. You clutch at his shoulders, your legs threatening to give out under the onslaught of sensation.

“San… please…” you beg, your voice barely audible over the roaring in your ears. You don’t even know what you’re asking for, only that you need more.

He pulls back long enough to yank your blouse over your head, tossing it aside without a second glance. Then his lips are on yours again, devouring you as his hands explore your body with unrestrained hunger.

“Touch me,” he demands, grabbing your hand and guiding it to the button of his jeans. His eyes bore into yours, intense and pleading. “Don’t stop this time.”

A thrill shoots through you as you fumble with the button, your fingers clumsy with anticipation. When the zipper finally gives, you slip your hand inside, finding him hard and ready for you. He gasps, his hips jerking into your touch as you stroke him firmly.

“God, yes…” he groans, his head falling back as he struggles to maintain control. But you can see the strain in his expression, the way his jaw clenched as he fights to hold himself together.

You want to break him. You want to see him unravel completely, to watch the walls he’s built around himself crumble. So you tighten your grip, quickening the pace as your other hand teases the waistband of his boxers.

“Take them off,” you command, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

San complies immediately, kicking off his shoes and shimmying out of his jeans and boxers in one swift motion. He stands before you completely exposed, every inch of him breathtakingly gorgeous.

“Now you,” he says, his tone commanding yet laced with vulnerability. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding up the insides of your thighs. “Let me see all of you.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second, but then his fingers hook into the waistband of your skirt, and you lift your hips to let him strip you bare. When you’re fully undressed, he drops to his knees and presses a reverent kiss to the inside of your thigh, his breath hot against your skin.

“San…” you groan, your legs trembling as his mouth moves closer to your aching core.

“Shh,” he soothes, his voice muffled against your damp curls. “Let me take care of you.”

And then his tongue is on you, parting your folds and delving deep. You cry out, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crash over you. He laps at you greedily, his fingers probing and teasing until you’re writhing beneath him, consumed by a blinding sensation.

“San, please…” you beg again, your voice raw with need. “I can’t… I can’t wait…”

He doesn’t make you. Instead, he rises to his feet, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the couch. He sets you down gently, positioning himself between your thighs. His eyes lock onto yours as he lines himself up, poised to enter you.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice steady despite the tension coiled in his body. “Keep your eyes on me.”

And then he thrusts into you, filling you. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as your bodies connect for the first time. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“San…” you murmur, your voice breaking as the reality of the situation crashes down on you.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his hips snapping forward with purpose. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.”

You nod frantically, your thoughts fragmented, your body too far gone to form coherent words. “Yes… San… please…”

He smiles, a wicked glint in his eye. “That’s what I thought,” he says, and then he drives into you harder, faster, his movements confident and sure. His lips find yours again, urgent and demanding as if he’s trying to devour every ounce of hesitation you might still be holding onto.

You gasp into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. There’s no space between you now, no room for anything but the heat that’s been simmering between you for so long. This isn't your first time, but it feels different, important—not a quick and casual fuck, but something more, something special. This moment has been a long time coming; you both know it, feel it in the way your bodies seem made for each other, the way you slot together perfectly, as though every inch of you was designed with this connection in mind.

There will be time later for sweet nothings, gentle caresses, and murmured promises. Right now, neither of you has the patience for romance.

"Fuck," you moan, tilting your head to let him better access, his lips a trail of fire across your skin. You don't have to pretend this is perfect, that this feeling between the two of you was always meant to be—instead, you hold on for dear life as he takes you higher than you've ever been, the coil of pressure building inside you hotter and tighter than before.

"I've got you, sweetheart," San murmurs against the curve of your throat, the tone in his voice low enough that your entire body quakes at the sound. "Let me take care of you like a good girl."

When his hand falls to where you are both joined, his touch against your already sensitive nerves makes you yelp, a sudden jolt of electricity surging through your spine. San chuckles at the reaction, a rich and dark sound that rumbles against your ear. "So beautiful like this, baby, such a mess for me."

"San..." you whine, his name like a prayer tumbling from your lips as you teeter on the precipice. "Please, please don't stop, don't fucking stop--"

And he doesn't. He's relentless as his thumb draws small, tight circles over your center, the sound of your whimpers urging him to go faster and harder, until you are crying out, shuddering with pleasure.

"That's it," he says, his voice ragged now, raw and honest. "Let me hear you."

His pace shifts again, this time erratic, desperate. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as he drives into you. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin. “Wanted you… all this time.”

His admission sends a jolt of electricity through you, amplifying the already dizzying pleasure. You clutch at him, your body arching instinctively as you chase that elusive peak. “San… I—I think I’m going to—”

“Yes,” he growls, his thrusts becoming even more frantic. “Come for me. Right now.”

It’s too much, too fast, too good. Your vision blurs, your muscles tightening as you spiral over the edge, your release crashing over you in waves. You cry out his name, over and over, your body convulsing around him as you ride out the aftershocks.

He follows soon after, his movements faltering as he finds his release. For a moment, he’s still, his entire weight pressing you into the counter as he catches his breath. Then, slowly, he withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and spent.

In a matter of minutes, his world has been upended, and somehow, yours along with it. San runs his hand through his hair, his expression an intoxicating mix of awe and disbelief.

"How did we get here?" he asks softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"I don't know," you answer truthfully, still a little breathless.

He nods, silent for a long moment, and you worry that the spell is broken, the real world threatening to intrude upon this fantasy you'd constructed for yourself. And then, slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he raises an eyebrow. "Want to do it again?"

You laugh, relief rushing through your veins like a drug. "Let's go home first," you suggest, trailing a hand down his chest. "Where we can be more... thorough."

"Fair point," San murmurs, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. "If I can only love one girl in this life, then it's you. It's you, baby."

#illusionnet #cromernet #kvanity #other side outlaws network #ksmutsociety #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez stories #ateez fanfics #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez san #san #choi san #san smut #ateez choi san #choi san x reader

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animefreak1145 · 4 months ago

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AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! THIS FANDOM IS SLOWLY COMING BACK ALIVE!!! YES!!!! 😭😭😭 IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS!! ILL GIVE YOU BETTER THOUGHTS IN AO3 WHICH YOU ALSO POSTED ON BUT AHHHHHHH!!!

THE POISON THAT IS RUSSELL ADLER FALLS TO US ALL!!

BLUE MONDAYS.

[ Mature ]

AO3

Masterlist

Pairings: Russell Adler / Bell, Russell Adler / Reader Russell Adler & Bell, Russell Adler & Lawrence Sims, Bell & Lawrence Sims, Russell Adler & Helen A. Park Ensemble: Russell Adler, Bell (Call of Duty), Lawrence Sims, Helen A. Park, Original Male Character(s)

Warnings: Brainwashing 🧠 Psychological Torture 🧠 Torture 🧠 Mind Manipulation 🧠 Medical Experimentation 🧠 False Memories 🧠 Flashbacks 🧠 Loss of Identity 🧠 Prisoner of War 🧠 Medical Torture 🧠 Medical Inaccuracies 🧠 Military Inaccuracies 🧠 Vietnam War 🧠 Propaganda 🧠 Pining 🧠 Crush at First Sight 🧠 Unresolved Romantic Tension 🧠 Unresolved Sexual Tension 🧠 Older Man/Younger Woman 🧠 Developing Friendships 🧠 Possibly Unrequited Love 🧠 Stockholm Syndrome 🧠 Denial of Feelings 🧠 Pre-Canon 🧠 POV Second Person > Other Additional Tags to Be Added <

Synopsis: Betrayed by your own, you lied bleeding in the back of your hummer. The fiery remnants of a derailed plane laid out in the airfield before you; your organization's smuggled weaponry all up in flame. Dying, you were eventually found and captured by Capitalist loyalists who treated your wounds. Now in enemy hands, you were tortured and interrogated. But you gave them nothing. Desperate, they turned their efforts towards MKUltra; mental manipulation, erasure of the self. You are fed false memories, given a false identity. Spun a false comradery with a scar-faced, shade-wearing man who had a hand in your torment. But he wasn’t your enemy, don’t you remember? Through thick and thin, you were always by his side. Fighting Vietcong in Vietnam, trekking through jungle and paddy fields. Hiding behind sandbags, bunkering down when napalm rained down onto the battlefield. Remember? You were always by his side. You endured it all together. Shared joy and shared suffering. {Takes place in flashbacks to time in Vietnam (albeit fabricated by Adler) and some Pre-Canon instances; but mostly Vietnam war flashbacks.}

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Chapter 1: stop the clock.

Words: 4,020 Summary: In which you are tested …

You wouldn’t break.

No matter how hard they beat you, how deep they pressed dull blades into your skin, or how much they deprived you of sleep – you didn’t budge. Resilient to any traditional methods in their arsenal. Stayed silent throughout the long hours of interrogation; stayed still in the face of aggressive questioning. you didn’t even blink at their threats, or didn’t falter at their dealings and their promises. Mistrustful, staunch, and unwavering; unbroken. you gave them nothing. All in the name of one organization, for one man. Perseus – who you would willingly die for and whose secrets you would take to the grave.

There was no denial that your loyalty was admirable and your sturdiness impressive even for a person betrayed by your own. Not just for a Russki loyalist so high on the totem pole but as a detainee. But to say that it wasn’t aggravating would be an understatement. You were the key to everything yet refused to open any doors for them. Time was running out … and they were getting desperate. A sort of desperation that didn’t go unnoticed by you. The tell-tale sign of perceived weakness, a droplet of blood on snow. Honed in on it like a patient predator, unassuming and forbearing. Who bided their time for the slightest misstep, a hint of an opportunity.

(They needed you – alive. Half-dead more like. But such noteworthiness wasn’t lost on you.)

And for the first time since your capture, the tables have turned ever in your favor.

Or so you thought.

◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼

You were being watched.

From the hallway, behind a tinted, one-way windowed wall that divided the white room. Even now as you slept, slumped forward in the metal chair you were strapped to – overtired from being forced to stay awake for days.

(But there was never really a time where you weren't constantly under surveillance. Was there?)

Like an apparition on the other side of a mirror, a figure stood patiently behind the window as he monitored you. A cup of old coffee in hand, aviators hung on the collar of his wool sweater vest. Listening intently to the timer on his wristwatch that ticked away – a countdown that was almost near completion. Time was going and going without a hitch or a hurdle. And who was he to ask it to change its nature; Deadlines were right on the horizon and progress had to be made. No matter the means. Morals and ethics were off the table now more than ever.

The figure rubbed at his temples as he heaved out a deep sigh. Eyes painfully dry as he squeezed them shut. Stress and fatigue had slowly eaten away at him over the past few weeks. But it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to. Sleep deprivation was an expectation, just part of the job. Perseverance, an unrelenting stubbornness and heaps of bottomless cups of caffeine were a hell of a combo to combat it, let alone to function with; unhealthy but effective. The after effects, however, were not as ideal. And being underneath the bright fluorescent lighting only made it all that much worse. It made his head throb, his teeth ache. His shoulders fell as he let out a soft sigh.

He ran a hand down his face, past the bridge of his nose, then lingered over a scarred cheek. Calloused fingers ghosted over the plunging grooves of the lichtenberg-like scar. Jagged and complex. Starting from his chin, the rough terrain of his scars branched through his lips and across the buccal plane. A reminder carved deep into the skin.

A failure that he would not repeat twice.

His eyes shot up as you suddenly twitched. Shuffling in the metal chair in the throes of your troubled sleep, moving as much as you could from your restraints. Your head eventually lolled against your shoulder, using the junction there to rest your cheek on, nestling yourself more into one side of the chair. Sharp eyes narrowed, you were getting too comfortable for his liking. He checked his watch again. Six more minutes were still left on the timer. And he grimaced, lips pressed tightly together.

Clicking footsteps echoed across the cold linoleum of the long hallway. But he didn’t turn toward the sound even as they slowly got closer. Only stood up straighter, more composed. And continued to watch over you for any other of your sudden movements. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit his nose before anything else as the person settled next to him. Wordlessly, another mug was offered out to him, white porcelain in the edge of his vision. He lifted his own mug up to show he still hadn’t finished the one he had. But the woman next to him only took it from his hand, replacing it with the one she brought. He didn’t protest however, the warmth of the mug in hand was calming as was the waft of the fresh dark roast. He lifted the new mug and took a careful sip. The bitter taste permeated on his tongue.

“Can’t believe you wanted to finish that, Adler.” The British woman, Agent Park, said in undisguised disgust. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the way she held the mug away from her as if it was disease-ridden. “Two day old coffee, and in a mug you haven't washed since. How very uncouth of you.”

He heard Park place it somewhere next to her. But Adler didn’t reply right away and took another sip of his coffee. “It’s my favorite mug.”

“You could’ve rinsed it out at least.” Park countered, an arm thrown around her abdomen, the other holding up her cup of tea as she settled next to Adler. Blowing on the surface of her drink to cool it. “Anything new?”

“No. Some movement while sleeping, that’s about it. Nothing worth noting down.”

Park nodded, drinking her tea idly. They grew silent then, both staring into the room for any little movement, any little sign. Something interesting to be jotted down in your prisoner records. It reminded Adler of the zoo somewhat. Standing behind the glass of an animal enclosure, lingering around and waiting for the animal to do something, anything worthwhile. And there you slept and slept, way too peacefully than he liked, than you deserved.

Park peeked at her watch. Seemingly under the same mindset as she hummed.

“We’re being too gracious, don’t you think?” He said. “Twenty minutes is overdoing it in my books. I should go and get started.”

Park titled her arm, letting Adler see the timer on its face. Numbers in bold font still ticking away, right on the end of hitting zero. Just like his watch was displaying.

“It makes waking up far more terrible.” Park let her arm fall to her side. “Pluck someone right before hitting REM then they’re worse for wear and far more malleable. It’ll make all that effort of resting all for nothing. Lack of proper sleep and you’re bound to make mistakes.”

Adler didn’t say much more, nursing his coffee as the concentrated dose of caffeine coursed through his body. It gave Adler the energy he would need in a few minutes.

“Almost three weeks of nothing, Park. Not sure this angle is worth it, might be a waste of time that we don’t have.”

Park clicked her tongue at him in that sort of smugness akin to thinking you’re smarter than someone. That you know better than them. Another person might’ve been offended, slighted by Park. But Adler has worked with the MI6 agent long enough to look past it. He looked at her just as she turned to him with pursed lips.

“I think it's an angle we haven’t truly utilized. Like you said before, normal forms of interrogation aren't working. It's a good sort of tension to continue whittling down the subject with. It paves the perfect path for the second phase as well.”

Adler’s eyebrows knitted together. “Second phase?”

“Yes. The gloves are officially off.”

“They always have been, Park.” He reminded her.

“We got the greenlight, Adler.”

Adler’s eyebrows shot up, turning his head to face her now. “Hudson approved it?”

Park nodded. “Quite eagerly I might add.”

“He knows what’s at stake.”

“We all do.” Park sighed softly. “Well, I suppose it's a good thing we aren’t bound by the Hippocratic Oath.”

“Sometimes morals and ethics are not in our line of work.”

“Quite so.”

But before more can be discussed between them, a shrill cry from both of their analog watches. Indicating that their stopwatches had ended. That time was up. Both agents shared a look.

“Do your worst.” Park said over the brim of her tea mug.

Adler gave her a nod, handing her his coffee mug, and turned the corner, to the side door there. The turn of the knob and the squeak of the door opening didn’t wake you however, not that Adler was being quiet about it. Still you slept, too tired to process anything in your surroundings or the threat right in your vicinity. The room was cold when he had entered, even a bit cold for someone like Adler. Another little touch to make sure you were never truly comfortable here in your confinement. He supposed you were used to the cold given that you’re a Soviet associate and all. Yet the way you were shivering in your sleep spoke otherwise.

It was gratifying for him to see it, your physical discomfort. It was ironic that a spy who came in from the cold wasn't as cold-resistant as implied. That notion made Adler pull his leather jacket closer around himself and sat down on the chair opposite of you. Far more supportive than the one you were tied down to. He rested his elbows on the metal table, untucking the manila folder from underneath his left arm and set it on the tabletop. Adjacent to a paper cup from the water dispenser he also brought with him.

Adler flicked his shades open, settling them on his face where they rightfully belonged. As if on cue, the lighting inside the room grew brighter. A sudden surge of brilliance that made you fidget. You crushed your eyelids together, squinting hard. Arms flexed underneath your restraints, wanting to shield your eyes from the bright lights. Your head lolled about until it fell forward, hanging down, chin meeting your chest. Your face is shrouded in the shadow you created, away from the brightness.

With a curl of his mouth, Adler kicked the leg of your chair, scooting it back an inch. The sudden force of it made you bolt awake. Your slouching instantly corrected into an upright position. But you cringed instantly at the lighting above you, turning your chin to the side and away, blinking rapidly to adjust your eyes. Noticeably drowsy still as you groaned and shifted up. But as the sight of Adler in front of you grew clearer, you visibly started to tense up. Greeted him with a pointed glare and a twisted grimace.

“Morning.” Adler said so casually that it made your glare sharpen at him in response.

Your eyes never left his shaded face even as he began to take out papers from the manila folder on the table in front of him. And shuffled them into a neat pile on top of it, right beside his forearm. You were having trouble though, keeping your eyes on him. Too tired to keep your impassive composure, your neutral face. Your posture staggered as you were trying not to nod off again. Adler intertwined his hands on the tabletop as he leaned forward. The warmth of his hands being sapped away by the cool surface.

He couldn't help but take in the mess that was you. Grubby and unshowered, hair greasy and stuck to your scalp. The only reason you didn’t start to stink rancid was the occasional bucket splashes of water to rinse you off, wake you up or waterboard you. Soiled clothes, stained in dry blood, spit and vomit, hung a bit looser on you now. Muscles withered away from your sedentary confinement. It wasn’t surprising given your circumstance; being deliberately underfed and the first week of detainment – after your surprisingly fast recovery – where you refused to eat or drink. Your sorry state was nothing more than a means to an end. A necessity.

But those eyes. Those damned eyes of yours. Incandescent and intense. Striking against the newly hollow look of your cheeks and the wanness of your skin. The fire in your eyes hasn't been snuffed out just yet, even now as they stared right through his aviators and into his own.

“Where’s Perseus?”

He took a sip of water from his small paper cup. Noticing how your eyes flitted intently to the motion, mouth dry as you licked your cracked lips. You sat there, not answering. But your silence wasn’t surprising. He expected it. Adler made a show of himself pulling something from his pocket, making sure you saw the shine of the familiar lamented label. A cigarette carton, your cigarette carton. Stained dark with a bloodstain, cardboard creased and partially crushed.

You watched as he plucked a cigarette from inside, one that wasn’t ruined by blood spatter. He thumbed his lighter, puffing as the cigarette caught the flame. He inhaled deeply, before blowing it straight towards you. Your nostrils flared as you took in the smell of it. Nicotine withdrawal flaring up as your jaw grinded against your molars. Adler looked the carton over in interest as he took another drag, reading over the Cyrillic letters that were somewhat legible. With an exhale of smoke, he tossed it on your side of the table, right in front of you, just out of reach.

“You know the drill. Tell me what I want to know or thing’s will escalate.” Behind the aviators, his eyes flicked down to your hands where your fingernails were starting to grow back. You flexed them into tight fists.

Yet still, you were quiet, unfazed. Staring straight into his reflective aviators to his eyes. Adler stood up and you shifted upright, tracking the man as he slowly rounded the table, cigarette in hand. But your eyes couldn't follow as he walked behind you. Out of your line of sight, at your flank. You went rigid, the pungent smell of cigarette smoke filling your senses.

“You’re a true-blue patriot. Well, true-red . We're not so different when it comes to what we'll do for our country. How far we’ll go to keep it safe. I know you understand why you’re here. You have information we want. So, I’ll ask again: Where. Is. Perseus?”

You sat still, unwavering. Mouth closed shut in the telltale sign that you weren’t going to speak. Before you knew it, you were falling, eyes tilted towards the ceiling as Adler yanked your chair back and let it fall. Your arms strained against the straps, automatically wanting to catch yourself but to no avail. And your chair met the hard ground with a gasp and a loud crash. A shadow enfolded over you, and you looked up, head ringing, mouth filling with blood from a bitten tongue.

Then you were suffocating. A boot pressed down into your exposed neck. Blood spluttered out from your choking gasps for breath. Spat it across the floor and onto Adler’s Cuban heeled boot. Your vision went blurry, black dots filled your sight, eclipsing the bright white room. Until all you saw was the scarred face of your tormentor above you. A face carved in the confines of your memory. Lungs burning, blood rushed to your head, pressure crushing down harder on your esophagus. On the cusp of losing consciousness, and the boot moved from your throat. You gasped, going into a fit of bloodied coughs as you gulped down air.

Adler stood over you, letting loose ash from the cigarette fall like snowflakes onto your face. Mixing with the blood that poured out from your mouth. The only taste of a cigarette you’re given. You’re breathing hard and harsh, a burning print of a boot blossomed on the bare column of your throat. Still you met his gaze, the defiance burning within your irises reflected in his lens. Unyielding. Unbreakable. Unshaken by what’s to come next.

Adler dropped the cigarette next to your head. And held your gaze as he crushed it with the twisting of his heel.

◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼

“You want me to tell them about my time in Vietnam?”

He lifted his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled.

“To establish a connection with the subject, yes.” Park took a puff from her own cigarette. She eyed Adler, sensing a shift in his demeanor albeit minuscule. Without an untrained eye, it would be inconspicuous. “Is that an issue?”

“I’m not soft like Sims. It won’t be an issue.”

Park smiled like a viper. All teeth and curled maroon lips. “Good. You have the debrief and our course of action as well as the scripts. All we need is your narration.”

Adler stood still and silent, smoking casually beside her. But he ultimately nodded.

“The CIA’s mind control program has had a great deal of success with implanted memories.” She continued, tapping her forefinger on her cigarette to flick the ash away. “In due time, we’ll have what we need from the subject.”

Park turned to leave but stopped herself, turning on her heel as she looked at the man quietly smoking. “Happy Birthday by the way, Adler.”

And with that, she turned and walked away.

◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼

You were screaming.

Fighting against the restraints of the gurney you were strapped down to. Teeth gnashing, grown back nails digging into the flesh of your own palms until they bled. Tried desperately to escape from the laboratorical personnel surrounding you. In surgical attire, faces covered with surgical masks, features blurred by the flare of the surgical lights above you. They were preparing you. For what you didn’t understand.

(But you knew, deep down. A sacrificial lamb, you were, getting ready for the slaughter. For the company of wolves.)

You were being watched.

From the hallway, behind a tinted, one-way windowed wall. Looking into the surgical room you were in. All white walls and white tiled flooring. Even now as you screamed. Connected to IV fluid drips; barbiturates in one arm and an amphetamine into the other. Other intravenous fluids were being pumped into you simultaneously. You wanted to rip them out of you. Needles above your head, glinting like knives. You rattled the gurney as you struggled in place. Needles were pressed into your arms.

And still you wouldn’t abate. But the high doses of psychoactive drugs would kick in soon enough. He remembered when he found you bleeding out in the back of the hummer on that airfield in Turkey. Even then you had it, that violence underneath your skin. You fought against him then too, refusing to let him stop your bleeding. His hands pressed to your gunshots wounds and you clawed at his arms, trying to die on your own terms before you eventually passed out from blood loss. That same violence that made you rip out your stitches when they patched you up. But your violence didn’t last long then and it didn’t last long now as you stopped fighting, the drugs pacifying you.

The personnel adjusted your gurney, putting it in an upright position to let you sit up. And the lighting was lowered until the room grew dim. They moved aside, making way for the figures behind the glass as they walked in the lab room. Familiar faces in your unsteady sight. You blinked groggily at them, trying to keep your head up. They stared down at you, the woman was closer to your bedside than the scarred man. Here, at this angle, you could make out the shape of the man’s eyes behind the sepia shades.

“Breaking a subject’s will and erasing their mind is a difficult and painful process.” The woman told the man next to her. He looked at her then he turned to you.

“That’s a small price to pay.” He said.

In your drugged state, you were eventually moved from the surgical room and into a long, cold, white tiled hallway. You caught glimpses of it as you were wheeled down it. Many rooms with one-way windows like yours lined the walls evenly; too many to count and grasp in your stuporous state. Before you knew it you were in another white tiled room, in another interrogation chair. Your legs and arms tied down to it. Hooked up to an ECG machine and a polygraph. As you came to, there right in front of your face was a television on a metal utility cart. It was turned on, the bright screen only showing static. A contrast to your dark surroundings. But there wasn’t just this one, there were multiple lined up in front of you. All of them were on and showing the same static channel. You tried to move your throbbing head, but found your head strapped back to the chair’s headrest. And then you saw him, at the right edge of your vision. A scarred man with shades underneath a lone lamp, sitting behind a desk in an observation room beside you. Watching and waiting. You squirmed, well as much as you could from how tightly you were strapped down to your chair.

The sound of a tolling bell pealed throughout the room from a source you cannot discern. Colored lights flash before you in a hypnotizing array, like a moth, you are attentive. All the television screens flickered before you, flashing a fuzzy snapshot of a group of soldiers hopping off a landed helicopter. Before a low baritone voice, his low baritone voice filtered through speakers all around the room. Resounded in your ears, echoing in your head. Burrowed deep into your scrambled, befuddled brain.

“We’ve known each other for years. Fought together, bled together. Been through the hell of Vietnam together.”

The screens flickered again, films playing of soldiers saluting their superior. Of recruits training in a mud pit, crawling under barbed wire and jumping over makeshift obstacles. Another screen glitch and you saw an exterior gun range where they practice shooting under the watch of the quartermasters and instructors. Then battlefields, gunfights in the jungles of Vietnam. But you resist. You never knew this man and never will. The voice doesn’t relent, it repeats and repeats.

“We’ve known each other for years. Fought together, bled together. Been through the hell of Vietnam together.”

The narrative it described looped over and over until you heard it in your head. But you never fought in that war. Never stepped foot in Vietnam. It all repeated again. Telling you that you were assigned to his MACV-SOG team sometime in ’67. Fighting VC soldiers, enduring the hellscape of war alongside him.

“We’ve known each other for years. Fought together, bled together. Been through the hell of Vietnam together.”

Together? Together.

The television screens flashed to a grainy video of some encampment somewhere on an excavated and flattened hilltop. A lake below, jungle in the distance. Then to a picture of a man with sandy brown hair with shades on, surrounded by a group of soldiers. And you remembered. Remembered it all. You were there, too. Made your way through a sea of elephant grasses, thorn bushes, and bamboo forests with them, with him. Waded through rice fields and wetlands - black leeches hiding in the dirty, stagnant pools. Shadows darted between the trees and foliage, enemies hiding in plain sight. M16 rifles jammed in gunfights, mud in your mouth. Sweat stung in your eyes, suffocated by the humidity of the jungle. The smell of napalm burning in the back of your throat. Gunsmoke in your lungs, dead bodies rotting in the underbrush. The taste of C-rats and its sweet treats, the only thing you looked forward to each day.

You were always by his side. You endured it all together.

Shared joy and shared suffering.

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A/N: Excited for BO6 → Play Cold War Campaign → Instantly fall in love with Adler → Finish Campaign → Obsessed; mind consumed by Adler 24/7 → Write Self-Indulgent Fic → Rinse and Repeat.

Critique welcomed as long as it is constructive and polite (don't be rude/mean pretty please ◡̈ ).

#I really do enjoy fics like this tho #covering the torture #but I will say a better review there then here #just know that you’re COOKING #and I know it’s gonna be a worthwhile feast #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod #black ops cold war #call of duty black ops cold war #russell adler #bell cod #adler x bell #russell adler x bell #russell adler x reader

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asceluffy · 1 year ago

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How OP MEN would react if you told them to leave you while you’re wounded during a battle.

cw: mentions of blood and injuries. gn!reader

Luffy

“Luffy, leave me and continue fighting.” You’d say as you lay on ground with blood dripping out your fresh cuts.

He’d pause for a bit, brows knitted.

“Huh? Why would I? Are you stupid?” Blunt as ever.

You’d cough up some blood when you chuckle at his words, in which in turn would alarm him.

“Oi oi oi, stop! you’re hurting yourself more!” A panicked look on his face.

You’d push him away with all the strength left in you and he’d contemplate.

“Just—stay here ok? I’ll kick the enemy’s ass in 10 seconds and come back for you.” Then he’d take off, a surge of determination coursing through him.

Law

“Captain, leave me and continue to fight!” You’d say with shaky breath.

He would click his tongue, clearly pissed.

“Don’t give me that crap, (name)-ya! You’re clearly on the brink of death!” He’d sigh as he puts up his hand so he can start treating you with his powers.

You’d swat his hand in protest, folding it before he could say “Room…”

“Hurry, Law! The others need your aid, I’ll be fine!” He’d glare at you but sigh.

While gritting his teeth he’d say, “You better stick with your words.” Before joining the others in the battle.

He had to be quick, he can’t bear the thought of losing someone he loves dearly again.

Zoro

“Zoro! Don’t lower you guard and continue fighting!” You’d say as you clutch on your torso—probably 5-8 broken ribs if your hunch is true.

“You’re an like idiot like that cook!” He’d reprimand you, helping you lean on a wall. “No way in hell I’m leaving you to die here!”

You’d groan in pain, making his angry look dissolve into a worried one.

“C’mon, I’ll get you to Chopper.” He’d say, putting your arm around his shoulder. But before he could do that, you’d pull away.

“I said I’m fine, Zoro!” You’d argue, trying to mask the pain behind your voice. “Or are you underestimating me?”

At your last sentence he’d smirk, putting the hilt of Wado Ichimoji between his teeth and biting on it.

“If you die, I’ll kill you.” He’d say seriously, before turning his back to you and continue slashing the enemies.

Sanji

He’d immediately stop on his tracks when he heard a blood curdling scream from you.

Knowing that it was because you were trying to protect him from an enemy who was about to attack his unguarded back, it made him feel much much worse.

As swift as he was, he’d be able to catch you before you could even fall on the ground.

You’d look up at him as he asks you if you were ok, immediately scanning the room and screaming for Chopper’s aid.

“Sanji, I’ll be fine—please, save our allies.”

Then, you’d notice how his lips trembled a bit. That voice you just spoke with him just reminded him of his mother, so delicate, so comforting.

“No, no, no. I won’t leave you here.” He’d say with a soft voice, using Sky Walk so the two of you can leave in the midst of the battle.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #sanji x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #zoro x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #trafalgar law #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro

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raggedyflowers · 1 year ago

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One piece men reacting at you flinching away

summary: op character reacting at you flinching away (maybe there’s gonna be a part 2 ??)

character: luffy, zoro, sanji, law x fem reader

cw: fluff, mention of past abusive relationship, some cry, a lot of forehead kiss

Luffy:

so luffy is always hyperactive and so funny to be around but sometimes he doesn’t have the conception of personal space

you usually love be around him and his energy is contagious

but sometimes he moves so fast and so suddenly he jump-scares you

the first time he did that, you had jumped on the sport and flinched away

of course you knew you he would’ve never hurt you, but that was it was an instinct from a past relationship

Luffy stared at you with open eyes

“why do you do that?” he asked you

you had laughed nervously “I don’t know”

Luffy maybe wasn’t the most academic-smart person in the ship, but he could read you very well

he didn’t say anything, he just put his arms around you and hugged you so close you couldn’t breath

but he was so nice

your eyes watered but you hugged him back

“Don’t worry, y/n” he said to you. “I gotcha”

Zoro:

you knew it would’ve been tiring training with Zoro, but it was fun anyways

(especially because you cloud look at him exercising shirtless without any reason)

he was a righteous mentor and you really wanted to be good (for him)

you have no problem when you two trained with swords, but he did catch you off guard when he lifted his arms to pass you a battle of water

he flinched away and almost fall off the chair

he took some seconds to understand what had happened

but then he grabbed you by yours arm and helped you sat again

“What was that?” he asked you

“What was what?” you asked back nonchalantly

“Why you flinched away?” he insisted

but you shrug and said nothing

he didn’t insist after that but something changed after that

from that day he was more cautious with you, more — sweet?

he didn’t make any suddenly movement when you are around and glared when the others did that near to you

you never said anything about that, but you noticed everything and your heart throbbed a little faster every time

Sanji:

Sanji was the sweetest man you ever met

he always brought you flowers and cook everything you asked him

he was so different from the idiots you dated before

but the old habits are hard to die, especially when some brainless jerk had hurt you so much in the past

Sanji would’ve never hurt you, never.

so he was pointless flinching away when he lift his arm to grab sometime behind you

“My love, what —?” he stared laughing at your reaction before understanding what happened

he turned serious immediately

“My love” he cupped your cheek with his hand “are you alright?”

“yes” you answered. “it was nothing”

but he didn’t buy it

“Y/n” he questioned you. “Did something happened for you to react that way?”

he shook your head but your eyes watered thinking about the past

Sanji wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close to him and staring petting your hair sweetly

“It’s alright, my love” he said to you, kissing your forehead. “Nothing bad is gonna happen when you’re with me”

you said nothing, just stayed there accepting all that love

Law:

apparently the banters with Law was your love language

but expect from that, your newfound relationship with him was incredibly sweet and mature

you did actually talked about your past, the good and the bad, the mistakes and the past relationship

he knew everything and was so incredibly great with you that you could finally relax in this new relationship

but still the first time he raised his voice with you in a tens situation and you flinched away from him, he eyes filled with horror

you had been cold with him for the rest of the day and then runner away to hide in your shared room

he reached you late that night, knowing it was better letting you have your space

“Y/n-ya” he said to you with a calm tone. “Can we talk?”

Law was clearly sorry for what had happened between the two of you and you made space for him on the bed

“Can we talk about it later?” you asked him

He nodded “What do you want me to do?”

“Can you just hold me for a moment?” you shyly asked him

Law said nothing, but just laid down near to you and wrapped his arms around you

you hugged him back, knowing you had to talk about that later

but for the moment that was enough: having Law’s arms around your and his lips pressed on your forehead

“I’d never hurt you, you know?” he whispered when he though you fell asleep. “I will always protect you”.

#one piece #straw hat pirates #trafalgar law #one piece fluff #sanji x reader #straw hat crew #straw hat luffy #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #one piece fanfiction #zoro x reader #zoro one piece #ace d portgas #ace one piece #ace x reader #sanji black leg #one piece sanji #monster trio

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beescake · 1 year ago

Note

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

#ask #anon #sollux captor #homestuck #hs2 spoilers #2023 #vioart #hs2 sollux explaining girls and bitches to john: 🗣️🗣️🗣️#mr foods‚ setting up the visuals: LMAO ok pause. cool story bro theyre all gone its just u n ur sandwich bro.#now that i think abt it sol's kind of a toaster? awkwardly takes up countertop space #lacks the versatility and sociability of an air fryer/pressure cooker. unwashed and littered w crumbs!#but sometimes the clear‚ frank simplicity of the toaster is a temporary lifesaver for ppl who struggle w low appetite / decision fatigue #or ppl who just have a habit of eating toast for breakfast LOL #and eh ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ even if u dont feel like toasting today thats ok he's still gonna be sitting there 👍👍#a funnyman..... i curse him in my pan but root for him in my biscuit 🫶

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tardisteam1 · 1 month ago

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The way this crossover would make me explode

im cooking something here

#the two people I based my whole personality on and my parents!#I’d die #op you’re so cooking the levels of co dependence these 4 have between them is insane #doctor who #the x files #fox mulder #dana scully #the twelfth doctor #clara oswald

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sanjisleggy · 14 days ago

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three hundred sonnets (sanji x reader)

a/n: my first OP x reader fic ever written! :D i’m currently only at the start of the Water 7 arc so this will take place somewhere prior to that :) i hope you enjoy!

big thank you to @chibinasuu for your encouragement in my initial post abt this fic idea! <3 i'm so excited to write more stuff in the future :D

also! i’d really appreciate any requests sent my way :D right now i’ll only write SFW fics/headcanons for Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile & Smoker! but they will all be set early in the series/not during any specific arc since i’m still only at ep 200ish :’D

contents: gn reader, zoro is unintentionally an asshole, major insecurity, injury, miscommunication, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort

wc: 3k

—

“if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. If he writes her 300 sonnets, he loves sonnets”

it’s no secret that Zoro isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer— or at least that’s what Sanji thinks, especially now as he stands by the sink scrubbing away at the leftover grime on the used dishes; feeling a tightness in his shoulders he just can’t seem to will away.

”hey, cook,” the inebriated swordsman slurred from across the dining table, a shit-eating grin on his reddened face—a familiar sight to everyone on the straw hat crew, especially when times have been smooth sailing. “i heard somethin’ interesting from the last town’s blacksmith the other day and it reminded me of you.” Zoro continued without waiting to be acknowledged.

”if this is something about my eyebrows again, i swear to god i’ll-”

”he said somethin’ like ‘if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. if he writes her three hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets’ and i just thought-” he paused to let out a quick burp, “-you ever consider you might just love cooking more than you love (Y/N)?”

the muffled, happy chatter of his satisfied crewmates from outside the closed kitchen door does nothing to distract Sanji from what even he himself knows is a turbulent mental spiral. he grits his teeth as his fingers grip the sponge even harder, working away at a particularly stubborn stain that strikes him as the final straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Sanji lets out a choked laugh when it dawns on him how ridiculous all this must seem to an outsider: a grown man on the verge of tears as he washes the dishes, overthinking about an off-handed comment said by an extremely drunk friend that was never supposed to mean anything and yet it seems to have shattered everything he thought he knew about himself and his love for the most important person in his life.

ii.

you decide to excuse yourself from the post-dinner drink-and-chat session with the rest of the crew after you realise someone in particular has been missing for a strangely long time.

you ignore Zoro’s slurred request for you to bring back more booze, knowing he’ll be passing out any minute now from how much he’s drunk tonight, and head to the kitchen. ready to drag your beloved to bed for a nice cuddling session, you can’t help the smile that graces your face as you swing open the door to Sanji’s domain.

”hey love, are you done cleaning up?” you chirp as you approach his broad back, hands ready to plop down on his shoulders for a light squeeze—just the way you know he likes it. the sink comes into clearer view as you get closer and the sight of a few dozen sudsy but unwashed plates and bowls answers the question for you.

”oh, i, um-” the way the blond man jolts slightly in response to your touch isn’t lost on you but what took you more by surprise is how Sanji rubs his face against his sleeve before finally turning to look at you from over his shoulder. he smiles before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead out of habit. “i got a bit distracted but i’ll be done soon, my love.”

”i can help you-”

”no!” you’re sure the way your eyes widen in surprise at his response is mirrored on his face as you both stare blankly at one another for a second. “no, no. i can handle it,” Sanji continues, quick to press a few apologetic kisses on your face, the rapid pounding of his heart calming slightly when he sees how you lean into his affection, seemingly forgetting his odd outburst from just a second ago.

“why don’t you just wash up and wait for me in bed, hmm? i’ll be with you before you know it.”

”are you sure? it’ll be quicker if we do it together.”

oh how his chest aches from how sweetly you look at him, offering him a final chance to take you up on the offer. his reddened and sore fingertips scream for him to say yes, beg him to accept your company not only for their sake but also for his heart’s—

i must prove to you how much i love you.

”it’s quite alright, sweet thing, it’s only the dishes.”

iii.

“it’s just a few thousand berry.”

“it’s only a massage.”

“it’s just mopping the floor.”

“it’s only folding the clothes.”

”it’s a small scratch, nothing to worry your little head about.”

”i can take up your night watch today… nonsense, i insist…”

”…nothing but a sprained ankle, i’ll be fine. all that matters is that you’re okay.”

iv.

”Sanji, love, is something wrong?” your voice shatters the silence that had long since engulfed the two of you sitting alone in the kitchen. the others left to explore the newest island you’ve chanced upon and your beloved’s insistence on watching over Merry all but confirm your suspicion that something, indeed, is not right.

”whatever do you mean?” the chef responds with a slight tilt of his head, his tongue darting out to soothe his dry lips when he catches how worried you look.

please don’t

”well, it’s just that… you know this island’s pretty famous for its produce, right?” you ask before you slowly reach out to grab his hand resting on the table. “are you sure you don’t wanna look around? take a break?”

”a break from what?” he chuckles nervously, shooting you a small smile when he feels your thumb rub against his knuckles.

”it’s just that… you’ve been working really hard this past week, y’know?” you reach out to cup his face with your other hand, a gesture Sanji instinctively welcomes with no hesitation as he nuzzles into the warmth of your palm, his tired eyes fluttering closed for a second.

it’s nothing. nothing at all. as long as it means i can feel this warmth for one day more.

”you should go have some fun with the others, it’s my turn to watch Merry. i’ll be fine for a few hours on my own.” Sanji opens his eyes and is greeted by the familiar sight of your warm smile as you rub the pad of your thumb under his eye, across the dark patch of skin—a result of his insistence on doing your night watches with you alongside his full-time duties as the sole chef of the ship.

turning his head slightly to press his lips against your palm, he shoots you another smile. “i’m not really in the mood to explore, i’d much rather stay here with you.”

because what if you realise how much you don’t need me when i’m gone?

Sanji feels the tightness in his chest loosen up a bit when his honeyed response, spoken in his best imitation of a sane boyfriend with only normal thoughts in his head, seems to work in quelling your concern at least for now.

oh how you wish you’d pressed further back then, dug deeper even if it made him uncomfortable. if you could miraculously go back in time just once in your life, you’d choose to return to that afternoon in the kitchen when you were alone with him. you would’ve seized the opportunity to pry, to force the hard truth out of your beloved chef even if it meant tears shed and bonds broken; because even a scenario like that would be so much more preferable to the one you’re currently in right now.

the entire crew steers clear of the infirmary for the day. even Chopper only shows up to redress Sanji’s wounds every now and then, leaving once he’s done, unable to stay any longer due to how heavy the air feels inside that one tiny room. the other straw hats rely on him for details on how things seem to be going between the crew’s chef and chronicler. otherwise, they elect to give you two some privacy and space, collectively hoping things can return to normal soon.

neither of you say a word for nearly half an hour after Chopper leaves. the stiffness in your neck is starting to bother you but you remain frozen in position, seated by Sanji’s side as he lays resting in bed, his left hand heavily bandaged.

it happened quicker than anyone could have possibly expected.

the enemy pirate’s sword slashing in your direction as you prepare to parry the way Zoro taught you long ago. you were confident in your ability to win the fight, having been in much tougher situations in the past and still emerging victorious. you might not be the best fighter but everyone knew you could stand your ground fairly well.

Sanji knew that, too. there was no one he believed in more than you, his partner, the love of his life. he knew you would be fine, unscathed, even; and yet his body moved on its own accord anyway. his hands reached forward, contrary to a lifetime of instincts.

i must prove myself to you.

he knows now, looking at the endless stream of tears silently running down your face and the way your jaw is tensed up—your teeth most certainly chewing on your tongue—that he’d fucked up.

”i’m sorry—” your head turns sharply for your eyes to meet his for the first time in a while when he speaks, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sanji’s bottom lip begins to tremble as he looks away in shame, his own teary eyes glued to his bandaged hand. “i-i won’t be able to cook for you for a while.”

for a minute, you forget how to breathe.

and then, inexplicably, a wave of rage washes over you; a culmination of the past two weeks of concern, confusion and worry over Sanji’s drastic sudden need to do anything and everything for you. his intense desire to display his selflessness all building up to the moment he used his hands to protect you; and even then his only concern is being unable to cook for you?

your own curl into fists on your lap, your nails digging into the meat of your palm, there’s a sudden coppery taste in your mouth as your molars bite down harder onto your tongue. the sheer idea of him willingly giving up his hands of all things to defend you from an opponent you could beat with your eyes closed made you so unbelievably angry at something you couldn’t even quite put your finger on.

sensing a shift in your emotions, Sanji finally tilts his head up to look back at you. his throat threatens to constrict itself and his heart drops when he sees the furious look on your face.

”am i really such a helpless creature to you?”

you regret the words as soon as you say them. the initial fury coursing through your veins dissipating in the blink of an eye when you see how your single sentence instantly breaks something in him.

his mouth opens and closes but no words escape his lips, meanwhile tears flow freely down his faces, one drop after another falling onto the blanket draped over his lap as his uninjured hand grips the fabric for dear life.

no, you could never be helpless you’re perfect you’re the most perfect person in the whole world i don’t deserve to have you and yet you chose me but now i’ve ruined it all—

the endless thoughts racing in his head go abruptly silent when he feels the softness and warmth of your body engulf his. your hand reaches up to hold the back of his head, pulling his face into the crook of your neck as your free arm wraps around his upper back. your knees are planted on the mattress, trapping him in a straddle as you hug him tightly, careful not to agitate his wounds.

for a few seconds, all Sanji does is breathe. in and out. every inhale filled with the scent of your shampoo mixed with the saltiness of your sweat and tears. he feels the hand holding his head run its fingers through his blond hair in a familiar way, it sends pleasant tingles down his spine and for the first time in a while, he’s able to release the tension in his shoulders.

Sanji’s eyes flutter closed as he nuzzles deeper into your neck, pressing a small kiss against your skin before wrapping his own arms around you, returning the much-needed embrace.

”i love you so much, my sweet boy,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean what i said. i know you of all people believe the most in me. i was wrong to accuse you of thinking about me in such a way.” you turn your head to kiss his temple, then his forehead, then the space between his eyes, then the tip of his nose. now face-to-face, your beloved opens his tear-stained eyes to look back into your own.

”are you okay? did something happen?” you ask softly, continuing to caress the back of his head, tangling his golden locks with your fingers. “i’ve been worried about you, the others are too.” he lets out a sniffle but stays silent, so you continue, “i know you’re a selfless person and you love doing things for other people, especially me.” you smile and he returns a small smile back. it, however, falters into an embarrassed grimace when he recalls the conversation that started it all.

how silly it all feels in hindsight, Sanji wonders to himself, as you patiently await his reply, still hugging him closely as your soft breath fans his face. how easily this could all have been resolved if he’d simply talked to you about it once it all started to feel too much.

the hand behind his head travels toward his cheek to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. you run your thumb gently over his cheekbone as he practically purrs and leans even closer into your loving touch.

then, he speaks.

vi.

the cooling sea air circulates the space of your shared room as the Going Merry drifts slowly across the calm waters of the night.

Chopper had given Sanji the OK to rest in his usual bed after redressing his wounds in the evening. After leaving the infirmary, the chef made his way to the kitchen to check up on your progress with dinner. Since he was banned from cooking until his hand was fully recovered, you’d volunteered to take up all kitchen duties temporarily. Seeing how excited you were to now be the one providing for him and the others quelled any worries he had instantly.

”Now I get to make all your favourite food and drinks for you instead,” you’d said, crossing your arms and putting on a faux expression of haughtiness, as though you’d finally won some long-drawn out battle.

”I look forward to it, sweet thing.” was all it took to wipe the look off your face as you felt your entire body warm up at his tender voice.

Smiling at the memory from just a few hours ago, Sanji stood outside the kitchen, ready to enter when he heard two voices come from inside. Curious, he stayed put and listened.

”You need to think before you speak!” you yelled, your raised voice accompanied by the sound of a knife hitting the wooden cutting board in a sharp, rhythmic manner. “I know you were drunk but what even was the point of saying all that to him?”

”Listen, I already apologised, you don’t have to keep—”

”I’m just warning you: pull that shit again and I’ll throw all your booze into the ocean.”

”Alright! Damn! I won’t do it again, I swear—”

Sanji’s snapped out of his reverie when he feels you stir awake beside him. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before blearily looking up at his face, your hand pressing against his bare chest to prop yourself up slightly from the mattress.

”Can’t sleep?” you ask, running your palm up and down his skin in a gentle manner.

”Mmm, just thinking about how you managed to get mosshead to say sorry to me at dinner,” he replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer. “Still feels like a weird fever dream.”

“I’m just so good with words, y’know?” you chuckle as you pull your hand away from his chest to replace it with the side of your head. You don’t fail to notice how his heartbeat quickens. “Why else would the infamous Straw Hat Pirates take me on as their chronicler?”

”Of course,” Sanji hums before burying his face in your hair, “we accept nothing but the best after all.”

You laugh softly in response, ready to let the conversation meet its natural end in order for the two of you to drift off to sleep. Right before you shut your eyes, though, your lover speaks up once more.

”I’m so lucky to be loved by you.” his sudden confession knocks the wind from your lungs as your heart leaps within the tight confines of your chest.

”luck has nothing to do with it, sweet boy,” you reply, turning to your head slightly to press your lips to his chest. “i love you because you’re you—the kindest, strongest, most talented man i’ve ever met. you’ve ruined other people for me, not to mention the food they make. nothing compares to you.”

Sanji silently thanks the night sky for the darkness enveloping your room as he feels his face practically catch fire. Though, he’s certain you can probably tell how flustered he is from the rapid beating of his heart anyway.

”You’ll still love me even if I can’t cook for you anymore?” he mutters, half-joking.

”i’ll still love you even if you refuse to cook for me for the rest if our lives,” you reply, kind of half-joking. “I’d probably be really sad, though, but i’ll still love you.” In response, you feel a chuckle rumble from his chest as his uninjured arm pulls you closer until you’ve basically melded into one.

”you know fully well the day i refuse to cook for you is the day i die.”

you hum in response, already drifting off to sleep with a contented smile on your face. Sanji presses one last kiss of the night to your forehead before dozing off himself.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #imagine #fanfic #opla x reader #one piece live action x reader

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qvrcll · 1 year ago

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the little things they do — luffy, zoro, nami, usopp & sanji.

summary: what do they do that makes you tick? that makes your heart glide through your chest and fester at your throat? that makes you glissade through hell itself, for the pleasure that it brings?

warnings: slight tension but no nsfw, fluff, nothing too bad!

notes: i started binge watching op / opla recently and decided to give i a go at writing for them! literally could not stop my fingers from typing this out. i’m a little new to op, so i hope you enjoy nonetheless :-] i promise im working on another part of college melodrama! i just wanted to try something new to get the brain juices flowing <3

sanji — moves you by your waist

sanji is keen with his women, but with you, he’s even more so. he’s gentle with it, even if he doesn’t need to be, because you make him aberrantly nervous, yet vilely confident in his etiquette — and today just cements it. it’s a boring day, and that prompts you to keep yourself stationed in the kitchen, where the rest of the straw hats find their own circles to situate themselves in (pure boredom, much to sanji’s dismay). the space is overcrowding and you’re halfway into disputing something that luffy insists is true fact, when sanji’s mellow palms come to gripe gently, carefully, at your waist — “excuse me, beautiful,” he mouths, fiendish and close to tasting his teeth in a marvellous grin as he effortlessly moves you, gingerly in so many ways, so he can reach the cabinet. you stutter out some convoluted version of a yes, o-of course! … safe to say, you can barely pay much consideration to luffy’s rebuttal as the tepedity of the cook’s hands lay in repetitive, illusive strokes against your hips for more times than one to just consider it an act to retrieve spices from a cabinet.

zoro — has one hand in your back pocket

he’s silent, mischievous with his antics. the upper part of your brain warns you of his skepticism, his cruelly hard body, his thick cheek. but your heart buds violently under what you can only assume is his effect. and it’s only furthered, when you are too close to him for comfort in this mini-party the crew has going on atop the going merry. you spot him nodding off in the corner of your eye, barely even knowing of his current footing in his chair as he slumps off. you urge him to go to bed, to ditch the drinks and gain a full night’s rest. but he shakes his head stiffly, his rather large hand slinking into the back pocket of your pants, where it lays dormant and so, so close to squeezing. “stay. this way, i won’t lose you.” you fail to yelp, because every nerve has been short-wired. twisted. re-twisted. re-wired. you can only stand close, fluxing against the warmth of his palm in your back pocket, as the faintest of reds colour his cheeks. a smile is welcome.

luffy — hugs your waist

being a captain is luffy’s share of the burden that comes with his quest of finding the one piece. he swears its easier than he allows it, but his body is different on days like these. days when he’s laying, tired and inaccessible to his usual bouts of energy. days like these, you can’t navigate around his lethargy, that comes slow and unmoving, similar to his resolve. his arms are around you, tight and interlocking further like a snake, his face buried against your stomach as he uses you as a stationary pillow. and you try to remind him that there are things you need to resume, things you need to conduct on the going merry, but when you turn to move, excuse yourself, he tightens, and his nose brushes against the sensitive skin beneath your button up in a nimble attempt to get you to stay still. “mmm… five—no, ten more minutes… i promise.”

nami — rests her head in the crook of your neck

it’s not an easy job sorting the day’s itinerary into tidy, little boxes and shelves, whilst the boat rocks to a cathartic beat around you. nami is here, to help you, but you are unable to shake off the tension wearing you down. your skin feels like paper and the bottom side of your shoes are sticky with sea water and your hands feel like rubber. you could rival luffy. it makes you feel awful, gets you hot and antsy so quickly, that nami blinks twice. of course, you apologise. you always have. but nami gets the directive before you do, and she reaches forward to hug you close to her chest. her nose tickles your neck and the space is living with her breath — the crook of your neck. “how about we stay like this for a bit, hm?” it’s more for your own means to find ground amongst your frustrations, to help you calm down, but nami has always loved being close to you. she always has.

usopp — holds you close to protect you

the great captain usopp. mighty warrior of the sea. well, not the great when the sea is colliding into rows of wood at maximum speed, which rocks the entire great vessel. you try to be less of a deterrence, try to find your own standing in the room you’re in with usopp, but your body is thrown across the room in one fell swoop, where you meet halfway into usopp’s chest. there’s a messy string of syllables that leave your lips, a creaky apology as you try to maintain some space between you (for the sake of your enervated heart), but he’s quicker. an ability derived from his sharp-shooter skills, you’re sure. his arm wraps around your waist and he allows you to crowd his chest. allows you to hold him like a pillar against the raging sea when it sends a rather alarming rock to the ship. “hold on tight — you’ve got nothing to worry about with captain usopp here. you hear?”

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x yn #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x yn #nami x reader #nami x you #nami x yn #usopp x reader #usopp x you #usopp x yn #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x yn

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