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dethoratsTitle: How The Other Half Lives
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: NaChoRo and the male straw hats
Word Count: 776
Note: Furry. If you don't like Chopper relationships, don't read.
Remarkably, it was the sharpshooter who first asked for details and not the cook. Chopper, with two dark heads resting on his shoulders and a blond one and a green one pillowed on his thighs, flushed under his fur at the question and stammered a line of nonsense when four pairs of eyes locked onto his intently. It was utterly adorable and enough to get him out of his dilemma for the night. But the idea was now planted firmly in four teenage male minds, and even the swordsman – who has his misgivings about most things female – admits to being curious. When Sanji asks the question again, Chopper once more becomes the center of attention.
“It’s like,” he begins, voice high and young despite his current massive bulk. “It’s like this only with two fewer people.”
Usopp scoffs, tells him they know that already. What they want to know is what it feels like and how it’s different skin to skin and with the absence of all the cock (literal and figuratively in the sense of cockiness and cocksmanship). The first word that comes to mind is soft and that’s what he says.
Sanji, imagination on overload and eyes full of hearts, runs with that and admirably fills in everything that Chopper means with his word. Nami’s skin is soft, smooth and silky like Robin’s hair. Their voices are soft, whispered demands and pleas and cries a sharp comparison the noisiness of the boys’ couplings. Their lips are soft too, protected from the harshness of the salt by such feminine items as chapstick. The same goes for their fingers, their feet, the curves of their elbows. They are soft inside too, although neither Chopper nor Sanji expounds on this. Soft and warm and wet in a way that a man, even well-lubed, will never be. And their eyes, when it is over and they are ready to sleep are full of a sated love that makes even the navigator’s sharp eyes and Robin’s cerulean knowing ones seem like (to quote Sanji) limpid pools, are soft too, just the way they can all look when it comes to their nakama.
When Sanji’s expounding finally wears down, the boys look at Chopper expectantly. The reindeer thinks for a moment, warming to his topic. He mentions the smells, sharp and bittersweet and long-lasting. And he mentions the taste, which is quite truthfully much better than their own. The boys eat it all up, Sanji nearly fainting when Chopper loses the last of his hesitation and rhapsodizes about all the joys of breasts and the curvy, plush swells of feminine buttocks. He is right in the middle of describing what it looks like when he wakes up some mornings to find Nami lying on top of Robin but facing the older woman’s feet, the two of them so engrossed in each other that they don’t even know he’s watching, when the hand suddenly sprouts out of the top of Luffy’s head. One slender finger runs teasingly over his lips and Chopper gulps, all five boys suddenly scattering and scrambling into their clothes.
They’re mostly dressed when Nami and Robin saunter in, the archaeologist winking at the now-shrunken and hiding-behind-Zoro’s-leg doctor. The two ladies make themselves at home on the beat-up couch and then Nami smirks.
“You boys REALLY that interested?”
There are slow nods in response, wary of where the navigator will take this. “One million berries each,” she starts, interrupted by a snort from the swordsman and an anguished cry from the cook. She waggles a finger at them, smirk softening into a smile. “Would be what I charged. But you boys have let us watch as much as we want, so I imagine that one time can be free of charge. But one time only.”
Nami sits up straight, lets Robin’s many phantom limbs begin divesting her of her shirt. Sanji promptly faints, blood trickling from his nose, and the navigator sighs and stops, calls for the smelling salts. Chopper jumps up to go get them, but more of Robin’s arms catch him.
“Oh no, Chopper. You aren’t going anywhere. After all, you’re a part of this too, and if they’re going to watch, they’re going to watch it ALL.”
Nami’s tone and her expression are sharp and toothy and Zoro and Usopp spare a moment of pity for the reindeer and his stamina while Luffy darts out of the room in search of the doctor’s foul-smelling bottle. By the time the girls are finished with each other and with Chopper, Sanji’s had to been revived six times and there are no further questions remaining to be answered.
And this one's for...uh...me I guess. Set in between Aokiji and Water 7.
Title: Lessons Carved In Flesh
Rating: G
Pairing: ZoLu
Word Count: 663
The skin is red over his tan and puffy when a rubber finger prods at it. When he doesn’t move, the slim fingers grow bolder. A thumb is placed along one side, lying almost flat as it braces his flesh. Two fingers, index and middle, gently reach across the divide and touch an edge that is hot with an effort to ward off infection. Pulling, his skin closes easily across the white and yellow and red gap, but as soon as Luffy lets go the wound gapes back open. The captain makes a small pained noise in the back of his throat, presses his head up underneath a chin that should be slack with sleep.
He burrows in, hand drawn as always to trace the line of Mihawk’s mark. His flesh couldn’t quite close all the way, not from something so deep. His scar caves inward as it travels from his shoulder down and across the length of his chest and abdomen. Stitches had held his body closed, but the wound hadn’t healed the way most of his other ones did. A sword-calloused palm leaves its position on the deck to cup the back of the captain’s head. Luffy’s black hair is softer than it should be and it slips through his fingers as smooth and cool as rain.
It was too much trouble to get Chopper involved and he’d heal. He always did. But knitting flesh together took time, and finally the captain had noticed. The small furrow beneath his own eye is the only mark that stays on Luffy’s body, but Zoro has seen it battered and bloody and nearly broken. Luffy always heals too, but this time the process is taking longer than normal. He hasn’t lost in a while, and they were overcome so easily, Robin nearly stolen from them by the touch of winter. That is what is still making his captain’s heart bleed, and he isn’t sure how to fix it. All he can do hold the smaller boy close and let him touch, see, feel.
“Does it hurt?”
Luffy’s voice is small when he speaks, lips moving against the column of Zoro’s neck. The swordsman shifts slightly, eases his light weight further onto his lap as he thinks about his answer and what lies behind the question. People often miss that about the captain. He isn’t often subtle and doesn’t know very much about reading between the lines, but he can sometimes ask volumes with only a few small words and mean every unspoken query.
“Yes,” Zoro says at last, tightening his arms around Luffy when the rubber teen’s body stiffens. “But it hurts less and less each day. Time heals. So does care and remembering that it’s there. And when it’s finally just a scar, it will still be important.”
The captain is silent for a minute, fingers reaching down to touch feather-light the actual wound. It’s so soft the swordsman can barely feel it, but he doesn’t miss the firmer splay of hand and fingers over his chest, patching over his biggest reminder. Luffy huffs out a sigh, warm breath making Zoro’s skin tingle. “Why’s something like a scar important?”
“Because it’s a lesson and a memory.”
“Oh.”
He traces the curved scar that marks the captain’s eye socket, threads his fingers back into the thick and unruly hair. When Luffy finally lifts his head, his eyes shine with a familiar determination and Zoro hides the pleased smile that wants to spread across his face.
“I have to get stronger. I have to protect everyone.”
Zoro nods in understanding. Just because scars can serve as memories and lessons, it doesn’t mean he wants his nakama to have a full collection of them.
“Then you will.”
This time when Luffy ducks back under his chin, his body is loose and still, healing. Zoro holds him close and lets him sleep, not bothering to remove the bandage of Luffy’s hand from its place over his heart.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: NaChoRo and the male straw hats
Word Count: 776
Note: Furry. If you don't like Chopper relationships, don't read.
Remarkably, it was the sharpshooter who first asked for details and not the cook. Chopper, with two dark heads resting on his shoulders and a blond one and a green one pillowed on his thighs, flushed under his fur at the question and stammered a line of nonsense when four pairs of eyes locked onto his intently. It was utterly adorable and enough to get him out of his dilemma for the night. But the idea was now planted firmly in four teenage male minds, and even the swordsman – who has his misgivings about most things female – admits to being curious. When Sanji asks the question again, Chopper once more becomes the center of attention.
“It’s like,” he begins, voice high and young despite his current massive bulk. “It’s like this only with two fewer people.”
Usopp scoffs, tells him they know that already. What they want to know is what it feels like and how it’s different skin to skin and with the absence of all the cock (literal and figuratively in the sense of cockiness and cocksmanship). The first word that comes to mind is soft and that’s what he says.
Sanji, imagination on overload and eyes full of hearts, runs with that and admirably fills in everything that Chopper means with his word. Nami’s skin is soft, smooth and silky like Robin’s hair. Their voices are soft, whispered demands and pleas and cries a sharp comparison the noisiness of the boys’ couplings. Their lips are soft too, protected from the harshness of the salt by such feminine items as chapstick. The same goes for their fingers, their feet, the curves of their elbows. They are soft inside too, although neither Chopper nor Sanji expounds on this. Soft and warm and wet in a way that a man, even well-lubed, will never be. And their eyes, when it is over and they are ready to sleep are full of a sated love that makes even the navigator’s sharp eyes and Robin’s cerulean knowing ones seem like (to quote Sanji) limpid pools, are soft too, just the way they can all look when it comes to their nakama.
When Sanji’s expounding finally wears down, the boys look at Chopper expectantly. The reindeer thinks for a moment, warming to his topic. He mentions the smells, sharp and bittersweet and long-lasting. And he mentions the taste, which is quite truthfully much better than their own. The boys eat it all up, Sanji nearly fainting when Chopper loses the last of his hesitation and rhapsodizes about all the joys of breasts and the curvy, plush swells of feminine buttocks. He is right in the middle of describing what it looks like when he wakes up some mornings to find Nami lying on top of Robin but facing the older woman’s feet, the two of them so engrossed in each other that they don’t even know he’s watching, when the hand suddenly sprouts out of the top of Luffy’s head. One slender finger runs teasingly over his lips and Chopper gulps, all five boys suddenly scattering and scrambling into their clothes.
They’re mostly dressed when Nami and Robin saunter in, the archaeologist winking at the now-shrunken and hiding-behind-Zoro’s-leg doctor. The two ladies make themselves at home on the beat-up couch and then Nami smirks.
“You boys REALLY that interested?”
There are slow nods in response, wary of where the navigator will take this. “One million berries each,” she starts, interrupted by a snort from the swordsman and an anguished cry from the cook. She waggles a finger at them, smirk softening into a smile. “Would be what I charged. But you boys have let us watch as much as we want, so I imagine that one time can be free of charge. But one time only.”
Nami sits up straight, lets Robin’s many phantom limbs begin divesting her of her shirt. Sanji promptly faints, blood trickling from his nose, and the navigator sighs and stops, calls for the smelling salts. Chopper jumps up to go get them, but more of Robin’s arms catch him.
“Oh no, Chopper. You aren’t going anywhere. After all, you’re a part of this too, and if they’re going to watch, they’re going to watch it ALL.”
Nami’s tone and her expression are sharp and toothy and Zoro and Usopp spare a moment of pity for the reindeer and his stamina while Luffy darts out of the room in search of the doctor’s foul-smelling bottle. By the time the girls are finished with each other and with Chopper, Sanji’s had to been revived six times and there are no further questions remaining to be answered.
And this one's for...uh...me I guess. Set in between Aokiji and Water 7.
Title: Lessons Carved In Flesh
Rating: G
Pairing: ZoLu
Word Count: 663
The skin is red over his tan and puffy when a rubber finger prods at it. When he doesn’t move, the slim fingers grow bolder. A thumb is placed along one side, lying almost flat as it braces his flesh. Two fingers, index and middle, gently reach across the divide and touch an edge that is hot with an effort to ward off infection. Pulling, his skin closes easily across the white and yellow and red gap, but as soon as Luffy lets go the wound gapes back open. The captain makes a small pained noise in the back of his throat, presses his head up underneath a chin that should be slack with sleep.
He burrows in, hand drawn as always to trace the line of Mihawk’s mark. His flesh couldn’t quite close all the way, not from something so deep. His scar caves inward as it travels from his shoulder down and across the length of his chest and abdomen. Stitches had held his body closed, but the wound hadn’t healed the way most of his other ones did. A sword-calloused palm leaves its position on the deck to cup the back of the captain’s head. Luffy’s black hair is softer than it should be and it slips through his fingers as smooth and cool as rain.
It was too much trouble to get Chopper involved and he’d heal. He always did. But knitting flesh together took time, and finally the captain had noticed. The small furrow beneath his own eye is the only mark that stays on Luffy’s body, but Zoro has seen it battered and bloody and nearly broken. Luffy always heals too, but this time the process is taking longer than normal. He hasn’t lost in a while, and they were overcome so easily, Robin nearly stolen from them by the touch of winter. That is what is still making his captain’s heart bleed, and he isn’t sure how to fix it. All he can do hold the smaller boy close and let him touch, see, feel.
“Does it hurt?”
Luffy’s voice is small when he speaks, lips moving against the column of Zoro’s neck. The swordsman shifts slightly, eases his light weight further onto his lap as he thinks about his answer and what lies behind the question. People often miss that about the captain. He isn’t often subtle and doesn’t know very much about reading between the lines, but he can sometimes ask volumes with only a few small words and mean every unspoken query.
“Yes,” Zoro says at last, tightening his arms around Luffy when the rubber teen’s body stiffens. “But it hurts less and less each day. Time heals. So does care and remembering that it’s there. And when it’s finally just a scar, it will still be important.”
The captain is silent for a minute, fingers reaching down to touch feather-light the actual wound. It’s so soft the swordsman can barely feel it, but he doesn’t miss the firmer splay of hand and fingers over his chest, patching over his biggest reminder. Luffy huffs out a sigh, warm breath making Zoro’s skin tingle. “Why’s something like a scar important?”
“Because it’s a lesson and a memory.”
“Oh.”
He traces the curved scar that marks the captain’s eye socket, threads his fingers back into the thick and unruly hair. When Luffy finally lifts his head, his eyes shine with a familiar determination and Zoro hides the pleased smile that wants to spread across his face.
“I have to get stronger. I have to protect everyone.”
Zoro nods in understanding. Just because scars can serve as memories and lessons, it doesn’t mean he wants his nakama to have a full collection of them.
“Then you will.”
This time when Luffy ducks back under his chin, his body is loose and still, healing. Zoro holds him close and lets him sleep, not bothering to remove the bandage of Luffy’s hand from its place over his heart.
