Crackfic! Oh Noes!
Nov. 11th, 2005 09:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chibi_trillianI got bitten by a crackbunny in the shower last night. I really ought to learn to ignore those things.
Series = One Piece = not mine.
Rating: R for stupidity and language.
The first inkling the crew of the Going Merry had that something had gone horribly wrong with their foraging mission was when Zoro came back carrying Sanji.
At least, they thought it was Sanji. The hair was about the right color, and he was wearing Sanji’s clothes, but the body shape was entirely different. It also became apparent as Zoro got closer that he was having difficulties walking that had nothing (and everything) to do with the comparatively small burden he bore. Zoro strode up the gangplank, gently set Sanji down on the deck, and then went to go skulk behind the mast with the lower half of his body conspicuously hidden. The rest of the crew ran over to see what fresh hell had befallen their cook…
And reeled back in shock.
Luffy was, naturally, the first person to regain control over his vocal cords (if not his wits). “Who are you and what are you doing wearing Sanji’s clothes?”
“I am Sanji,” whimpered the thing on the deck, looking like it was about to cry. Luffy looked like he’d been punched in the gut, everyone else glared at Luffy like he was a defiler of all that was innocent and holy, and Zoro growled quite audibly and rattled his swords.
After all, what was on the deck was frickin’ adorable. Huge doll-like eyes, soft flaxen locks, no facial hair, and the loss of most of his muscle mass and about six inches of height—Sanji had gone from “bad motherfucker” to “delicate creature” in less than an hour.
Sanji rubbed the perfect, crystalline tears away from his eyes in disgust. What was wrong with him? He’d been walking along, sampling some of the native produce to see what would make a decent salad, and then he’d taken a bite out of an oddly soft pink fruit. His world had gone funny for a moment, and he’d passed out.
When he’d come to, Zoro'd been hovering over him like a wolf over its wounded mate and with a severely confused expression on his face. Sanji’s proper reaction should have been to kick Zoro and stomp back to the ship so that Chopper could check him out.
Instead, he’d felt like swooning and flinging himself into Zoro’s strong, manly arms and snuggling up to that broad, scarred chest. He’d sat up in shock, and (to his combined mortification and joy) he actually did swoon into Zoro’s conveniently-placed arms. Zoro had looked as surprised as Sanji felt, and then moved from “startlement” to “whatthefuckery” as he had a sudden, er, “pants malfunction” that Sanji could clearly feel.
The new part of Sanji that put the words “swooning,” “snuggling,” and “manly” in the same sentence had been quite pleased with Zoro’s reactions, and a soft blush had crept over Sanji’s face like the dawning of the spring morning. Their eyes had locked. It’d been like magic.
And then Zoro had dropped Sanji and smacked his own head firmly into a tree trunk. Several times. That broke the spell. Zoro had then scooped him back up and headed back to the ship with all possible haste (and Sanji pointing the way—panic and a hard-on did nothing for Zoro’s already poor sense of direction).
Robin and Nami gently coaxed the abridged version of this story out of Sanji, and Robin’s face darkened when he described the fruit he had sampled.
“Sanji,” she said, softly, quietly, like she was speaking to a small child or a frightened animal, “I have some bad news.”
Sanji felt more of those beautiful tears welling up again. What was with this? Everything made him want to cry!
“That fruit you ate…”
Sanji sniffled adorably. “Yes?”
“It was an Uke-Uke Fruit.”
Series = One Piece = not mine.
Rating: R for stupidity and language.
The first inkling the crew of the Going Merry had that something had gone horribly wrong with their foraging mission was when Zoro came back carrying Sanji.
At least, they thought it was Sanji. The hair was about the right color, and he was wearing Sanji’s clothes, but the body shape was entirely different. It also became apparent as Zoro got closer that he was having difficulties walking that had nothing (and everything) to do with the comparatively small burden he bore. Zoro strode up the gangplank, gently set Sanji down on the deck, and then went to go skulk behind the mast with the lower half of his body conspicuously hidden. The rest of the crew ran over to see what fresh hell had befallen their cook…
And reeled back in shock.
Luffy was, naturally, the first person to regain control over his vocal cords (if not his wits). “Who are you and what are you doing wearing Sanji’s clothes?”
“I am Sanji,” whimpered the thing on the deck, looking like it was about to cry. Luffy looked like he’d been punched in the gut, everyone else glared at Luffy like he was a defiler of all that was innocent and holy, and Zoro growled quite audibly and rattled his swords.
After all, what was on the deck was frickin’ adorable. Huge doll-like eyes, soft flaxen locks, no facial hair, and the loss of most of his muscle mass and about six inches of height—Sanji had gone from “bad motherfucker” to “delicate creature” in less than an hour.
Sanji rubbed the perfect, crystalline tears away from his eyes in disgust. What was wrong with him? He’d been walking along, sampling some of the native produce to see what would make a decent salad, and then he’d taken a bite out of an oddly soft pink fruit. His world had gone funny for a moment, and he’d passed out.
When he’d come to, Zoro'd been hovering over him like a wolf over its wounded mate and with a severely confused expression on his face. Sanji’s proper reaction should have been to kick Zoro and stomp back to the ship so that Chopper could check him out.
Instead, he’d felt like swooning and flinging himself into Zoro’s strong, manly arms and snuggling up to that broad, scarred chest. He’d sat up in shock, and (to his combined mortification and joy) he actually did swoon into Zoro’s conveniently-placed arms. Zoro had looked as surprised as Sanji felt, and then moved from “startlement” to “whatthefuckery” as he had a sudden, er, “pants malfunction” that Sanji could clearly feel.
The new part of Sanji that put the words “swooning,” “snuggling,” and “manly” in the same sentence had been quite pleased with Zoro’s reactions, and a soft blush had crept over Sanji’s face like the dawning of the spring morning. Their eyes had locked. It’d been like magic.
And then Zoro had dropped Sanji and smacked his own head firmly into a tree trunk. Several times. That broke the spell. Zoro had then scooped him back up and headed back to the ship with all possible haste (and Sanji pointing the way—panic and a hard-on did nothing for Zoro’s already poor sense of direction).
Robin and Nami gently coaxed the abridged version of this story out of Sanji, and Robin’s face darkened when he described the fruit he had sampled.
“Sanji,” she said, softly, quietly, like she was speaking to a small child or a frightened animal, “I have some bad news.”
Sanji felt more of those beautiful tears welling up again. What was with this? Everything made him want to cry!
“That fruit you ate…”
Sanji sniffled adorably. “Yes?”
“It was an Uke-Uke Fruit.”
