#from the ship logbooks

[anotherscrappile]

Quick doodle of Mittens & Rune :D👍

#from the ship logbooks #mittens #martin strøm #rune hermansen #my art #i wanna get back into drawing. it’s been a hot minute ;-;

[a-model-of-propriety]

(steps onto a soap box)

More Nikolai & Rune moments, please

If you have the time & energy of course :D👍

finally got around to answering this! :D

–

“Rune!” Nikolai called out as they dashed across the ship to catch up with her. “You’re not on duty right now, are you?”

Rune shook their head. “Not for another couple hours,” he signed.

“Perfect,” Nik said, grinning from ear to ear as he dragged Rune along behind him, “because there is something belowdeck you have to see.”

Luckily for Nik, Rune followed without a single protestation. The pair of them descended belowdeck and wove through the small bunches of people until they reached Nik’s destination: Lynx.

Was the ship’s chief mouser doing anything out of the ordinary? Certainly not. Nik at least had seen her making biscuits in this very spot dozens of times before. But that was irrelevant, and Rune clearly agreed. In unison, Nik and Rune sat down next to Lynx to silently (or not so silently, in Nik’s case) watch her. When Lynx was finished with her extremely important task of making biscuits, she yawned widely and shifted into a more comfortable napping position, and Nik had to physically restrain himself from disturbing her with any unwanted petting.

“Antonov, Hermansen!” Andrey called from down the hall. “Are you two all right? You’ve barely moved in the past hour.”

Nik immediately shushed him, pointing to the still very sleepy Lynx.

“Ah,” he said. “I should have guessed, seeing how focused you were.”  Andrey crouched down between Nik and Rune. “Did you know I used to have a cat?” he asked.

“You did?” Nik asked, to which Andrey nodded in reply. Immediately, both Nik and Rune launched into a barrage of questions about this mysterious cat’s appearance, name, age, personality, and anything else under the sun. But chatter and sign as they might, neither could get another word out of Andrey about his cat. Unfortunately, that information would have to come another day.

#seph answers #seph writes #from the ship logbooks #nikolai antonov #rune hermansen #andrey morozov #i had the hardest time coming up with a good idea for this one clkgjwlkgsdjlk

[dippydots]

Day 3 of December Doodles!! This one's for @anotherscrappile !!! I drew it's character Mittens with Christmas mittens!!

#from the ship logbooks #mittens

[pixelmuppet]

#from the ship logbooks #the pierres

[vvintagerose]

Young Valentine

A young child’s socked feet silently pattered along the floor, their thin face illuminated by a candle they held carefully in their small hands. Valentine- though they would not be referred to by that name for another many years- could not sleep. Their nights had been restless as of late, and no one around them could discern why, so they had decided nearly every night to leave their sleeping quarters to peruse the vast library their father kept, as they found reading had an almost meditative effect on them, to the point where many times they had awoken with their face pressed into the creases of a book they had been exceedingly engrossed in.

Their father kept mostly books pertaining to his work; property deeds, family histories, histories of the land of France and its neighbors. He was a meticulous man. But, mercifully, he still kept a small stock of books solely meant for entertainment, their covers gilded with the names of kings that may or may not have lived and great adventures they may or may not have gone on. They had fond memories of their mother, in times when she was in better health, sitting them down on her lap and reading ancient Greek plays and Biblical texts to them, it was at some point in these happy afternoons that they had learned to read, though they cannot quite recall when the letters began to weave themselves into words and phrases and sentences and prose on the page before them. But ever since then they had inhaled any book they could get their hands on.

Walking through the shelves, their eyes landed on two thick volumes standing side by side. It was evident that these were two halves of one series, as their candle reflected off of the delicate gold leaf that spiraled across the leather spines to form a latticework of beautiful flowers, framing the title.

“Le Morte d’Arthur.” They whispered into the chill air, letting the words fall from their tongue in wonder. The Death of Arthur.

They felt drawn to the books, and so swept them off the shelf, struggling to balance them in their thin arms while keeping grip on the candlestick.

Back in their room, they laid the first book open on their bed covers, where the first page showed a lovingly detailed illustration of a tall, dark haired woman emerging from a lake, bestowing a smiling, albeit stern looking man with a sword that looked as if it was made from the light of heaven itself. Indeed the creator of this book had gone to the liberty of pasting bits of silver and gold leaf over pieces of the scene, so that they seemed to glow in Valentine’s wide eyes.

Eagerly they turned to the first page, and began to read.

It befell in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all England, and so reigned, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall that held war against him long time…

#my.writing #from the ship logbooks #valentine laurent #little val! #theyre probably around 6 here? though not sure

[you-are-constance]

ik you don’t interact with any of the ship logbooks stuff but i am thinking abt Tadhg rn

just. he <3 Irish lad <3

oh yes tadhg. my lad. i love him

#Constance answers #tadhg farrell #from the ship logbooks

[thebaffledcaptain]

I don’t know how to explain my love of history without inevitably returning to the fact that history is so human. Our history will always be human. I’m transcribing a virtually untouched whaling logbook from just about 200 years ago knowing well that the man who wrote it is long dead, but somehow even from just his run-on-sentence-length entries for every day of his voyage it is impossible not to think about how human he was, too.

Sometimes his straightedge wasn’t level because he was human. He spelled the name of another ship wrong based on the way he heard it because he was human. He wrote about getting dinner right after writing about killing a whale because he was human, and he had a favorite way of ending his entries because he was human.

It’s just so strange and wonderful to think about how even two centuries apart I find things to adore about this unknown, unassuming man I never shared the planet with. I don’t know anything about this whaleman besides what he writes in his logbook. I don’t even really know his name. But though his name may be lost to history, at the very least I know he is not, because I know that on December 21st of 1825 he thought it was important to tell me that the water was very blue.

#trust me i've tried to find his name but i think most of the information about the voyage comes from that logbook itself #anyway i got probably too fixated on this for one night but. what can i say #humanity #whaling #age of sail #historyposting #the captain speaks #the captain's archives #whaling ship thorn #gone whalin

[fanaticsnail]

Lips Brushing

(Image Source)

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here

Word Count: 5,182 (Yeah, "drabble" I say)

@alphaash99 offered this snail a piece of lettuce cut into hearts and stars. I had no choice.

PLOT: Sanji is in a relationship with the ship’s chronicler. After Zoro was invited to take a front row seat at witnessing their intimacy within the kitchen as the crew docked to resupply, Sanji can’t get the thought of watching the swordsman please you the way he does. 

Warnings: Smut, f!reader, voyeurism, mdni, p in v, oral f receiving, "good girl" gendered term used, consent, throuple chemistry, “Hime” - Princess.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 , @vespidphoenix @alphaash99 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun

For the following weeks, the three of you would find any excuse you could to join together away from the remaining members of the crew. If there was a need to resupply food at a nearby town, the chronicler, the chef and the booze-headed swordsman were required to go together. If the swordsman was in need of buying items used to sharpen and maintain his swords, Sanji would be in tow to get a new sharpening stone for his kitchen knives where you would be required to tally the amount of crew finances needed balancing within your logbook. 

Those things did end up working quite well for the three of you, very useful to have the three of you managing yourselves in such an easy rapport. But these things only occurred after Zoro’s eyes met with yours as Sanji pleasured you in all ways he knew how. In an alleyway, in a cheap inn for the afternoon, on the beach away from other prying eyes, in a public booth at a tavern taking residence in a corner booth; all hands, tongues, lips and Sanji’s pretty cock. 

Aboard the ship itself lies the problem. Barely being able for you and Sanji to make yourself scarce to enact your lewd fantasies in the arms of one another, let alone the other member of this unusual dynamic you found yourself within. Zoro and Sanji both had an intense rivalry, although, in this particular set of circumstances, found teamwork in chaperoning you throughout the halls to watch you come undone within the chef’s skilled hands. 

Zoro adored watching the lights dance behind your half-hooded eyes, your lips parted and soft moans and mewls exitted your mouth in soft utterances of Sanji’s name. He could barely contain himself, white knuckles gripping the surfaces close to him to restrain his empathetic pleasure at witnessing your post coital bliss. As the warm flush arose after the final after waves of your orgasm crashed over you; he adored watching your eyes meet his with a sense of warm pride and accomplishment - only after you would shower your lover with the rightful praise he deserved. 

Sanji also found himself feeling some foreign emotions. Having Zoro in the same room as him drove him to perform more skillfully, chase your highs with more precision, and worship your body with more showered adoration. His favorite part to witness was, however pleasurable the experience he encountered with you was, when you would meet Zoro’s eyes with a love-struck, fucked-out expression you used to favor for only his eyes. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt like you were gloating about his accomplishments in front of his shipwide rival; wearing it like a badge of honor as he splashed your needy walls with ribbons of his hot cum. 

And he couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to be on the receiving end of such an expression. Would it bring you closer? Would it feel as blissful as it did while you were riding him? Would he, like Zoro, cum immediately with little to no stimulation. 

He simply had to know. 

However, a factor remained in play that he did not know quite how to address. You and Zoro had never truly allowed yourselves to touch romantically - a forehead touch, Zoro placing a kiss on your forehead as Sanji delivered on his promise of aftercare. 

Zoro liked to watch, not to engage. And Sanji needed to change that. 

You were sitting cross legged on the deck, basking under the rays forming beneath the rising morning sun. The waves swayed the ship as you tapped your pencil within the pages, your eyes darting out as you continued to take your watch shift and take note of any irregularities. You glanced back down onto the pages of your notebook, the silhouette of your beloved chef adorning the dotted pages with his shadow. 

You looked up, eyes softening as he presented your coffee to you with an extended hand. Shooting you a playful wink, you reciprocated with your eyes searching his own with a wordless expression of gratitude and adoration. You took the mug from him and placed it beside you as you continued to look over your words within the pages. 

Looking further down within the coarse pages, you flipped over the page and began to journal the timetable for the upcoming shore expedition; drawing a small swirl to indicate some time with your chef scheduled within its pages. Sanji plonked himself at your side, circling his arm around your shoulders and began placing a trail of kisses against your upper arm. 

“Sanji,” you giggled, swatting at him with your notebook, “Sanji, I’m trying to work.” He hummed in response, trailing up to place several kisses against your shoulder and bringing his lips over to your neck.

“Sanji, someone will see,” you commented with surprise written over your face. You turned to him, folding your book in half while wedging the pencil within its pages. His eyes were dark, playfully twinkling in his blown pupils. He brushed the back of his fingertips gently over your jaw, ushering your chin into him and placing the beginning of a slow and deliberate kiss against your lips. Your lips curled into a smile, eyes wide in shock at his unrestrained expression of love and lust: your situationship not yet, you assume, common knowledge to the rest of the Straw-Hat crew - aside from the third member of this unusual dynamic.

The third member, who had just begun his slow ascension to join you above deck; his footfalls halting as he witnessed the slow and romantic kiss expressed between you. Although he had been invited to watch you two engage with each other prior to this: this felt more taboo to witness than any expression of lust. This was love, he was certain of it. He was about to turn and make a miserable descent below decks once more, halting only at the sound of his name pouring like molasses from the lips of the chef.

“Have you ever thought about fucking Zoro?” Sanji asked you between slow kisses, relishing in the small squeak rising in your lips, along with your full body halting its reciprocation of Sanji’s passion in rigid stupefaction. 

“Sanji, what are you-,” you began, silenced by a deeper and sweeter kiss placed against your lips. His lips entangled effortlessly with yours, romancing your heart with its gentle, yet firm clasp. He moved his hand to the back of your neck, massaging the flesh beneath his splayed fingertips to lessen your burden from the prior night watch.

“Dove,” he began after removing his lips from yours. He met your eyes with a seriousness you had not seen within them for some time. You were entranced within his glance, hanging onto his every breath as he uttered the unspoken confession he so desperately wanted to share with you.

“Dove, I want to watch you fuck Zoro.”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting as a gasp fled from your lips. Watching the lustful look Sanji was throwing at you was as tantalizing as tasting an indulgent dessert Sanji had prepared just for you. He meant every word he spoke, nothing withheld in his desire to watch you come undone on Zoro’s cock. 

Mind racing with a thousand unspoken thoughts; never once in the weeks this dynamic had begun had you ever pictured yourself with anyone other than Sanji. He was your man, and you his woman: although neither of you had ever spoken this aloud to one another. Without realizing it, you had begun subtly shaking your head at the notion, prompting Sanji to nod with a sly smile attached to his playful lips. 

“Sanji, I don’t know what you want me to say,” you confessed, eyes spiraling in searching between his gray eyes and darting down to witness the end of the balled piercing attached to Sanji's oral frenulum as he danced it within his teeth. 

“Say-...” he began, pressing his forehead against your own with his eyes crinkled in a playful smile, “...-Say: ‘I want to fuck Zoro while you watch, Sanji.’ That’s all I want to hear departing from your pretty lips.”

Zoro was held in stasis, unable to make a sound, movement or take a single breath as he overheard every word spoken between you and your lover. He waited in the shadows of the morning, holding firm in his position within the doorframe leading to the lower decks. Patiently, he held strong and firm against the wooden frame to hear what he never thought possible spring into the light from your lips.

“I want to fuck Zoro while you watch, Sanji.”

“That’s my girl,” Sanji praised you, pressing a chaste kiss atop the tip of your nose before reaching down and claiming your notebook within his skilled hands. You remained stunned in your expression, hands shaking after speaking aloud this confession. 

Sanji furrowed his brows, his tongue flicking out to dampen his lower lip in concentration as he scribbled within its pages. He nodded once he had completed what he sought out to do within your chroniclers’ journal, closing the book and placing it within your outstretched hand. 

“Your coffee is getting cold, Dove,” he uttered lovingly, pressing a chaste kiss against your hair before standing from his position beside you. You blinked rapidly, still processing exactly what was uttered between you. You had yet to even kiss Zoro, not realizing that was an element of the relationship permitted to be expressed between you. Should you kiss him first? Should you kiss him with Sanji? How was everything meant to go within this dynamic-?

“-Let’s see if it’s something he’s keen for first, hm? Maybe start with a kiss without me?” Sanji called over his shoulder as he made his way back to the kitchen, “Maybe you won’t even enjoy it that much. Stupid Marimo wouldn’t even know what to do with you, I think.”

You darted your startled eyes in front of you, wide in surprise: eyes meeting and reflected in the startled expression of the tri-sword wielding first mate. Meeting his eyes startled you more, your warm flush rising against your cheeks before you tore your eyes away from the two men. You shook your head as you heard Sanji’s feet descending away from you towards the kitchen, opening your journal to the page it was priorly set on. Next to the small schedule of a swirl for Sanji, a crude drawing of three sticks with thick ends lay directly beside the swirl. 

Sanji had everything already planned in his mind: mapping out exactly when he wanted you and the swordsman to fuck in front of him. You dropped your notebook, your eyebrows higher than they ever had been with you attempting to bite back a broad grin at the prospect of such an encounter. 

Heavy boots stepped onto the deck in front of you, a sound you had become accustomed to trailing behind you and Sanji as you crept into hidden places with one another. You sucked in a shaken breath, not truly anticipating what exactly was going to depart from the swordsman’s lips.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want you, ya’ know?” were the first words spoken from the green-haired knight in front of you, “I won’t force you or nothin’.” You shook the shock away from your face before looking up to the tall man in front of you. 

“Good morning to you, Zoro,” you said, disregarding his words and plastering a wide smile in welcoming him to the day, “How did you sleep?” He huffed out a breath that sounded like a laugh and crouched in front of you. 

“G’ Morning to you too,” his smirk rose to the corner of his lips, dancing his eyes between yours as you lazily held your grin against your lips. A warm hue of pink dusting found its way to lay against the speckled cheeks of the green-haired swordsman, him leaning lower in his crouch and placing a hand beside your head to stabilize himself in front of you. 

“Can I kiss you?” His brow arched upwards as his words raised at the end of his question. You huffed out a light laugh in surprise, looking between his two hazelnut orbs as you nodded in answering the question. Zoro shook his head as he leant forwards, “No, Hime. You gotta say ‘yes’. Use your words.”

“Yes,” you breathily uttered, feeling the whisper of a caress almost crashing atop your lips. 

“Good girl,” were the final words spoken before Zoro claimed your lips within his. His scratched and chapped lips danced atop yours with a brutal intensity; out of practice in an oscillation of the like for some time. He was a man starving, seeking out any affection you were willing to reciprocate with him. His brow furrowed in deep intensity as he fell to his knees in front of you, clasping his palms over your jaw as he began to deepen the kiss as if the spell of your reciprocation was to be broken away at any moment. 

Another squeak of shock parted from your lips as he continued to press feverish kisses against your lips. Everything about this kiss was different than Sanji’s: your blond chef’s lips soft, slow and romantic. This swordsman was another beast entirely. His desperation at witnessing you within the thralls of passion with the chef had him more built up than he originally thought. 

As he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his danced between you as his lust-blown eyes met with yours once more. 

“How long until the next port, chronicler?” he asked you, panting and breathless. 

“Four hours, swordsman,” you responded in a similar likeness. The strand broke between you, Zoro moving his hand from your cheek to dance his thumb over your bottom lip to remove the small droplet departing from his lips onto your own. He chuckled, feeling your breath hitch at such a motion. 

“Sorry, Hime,” he chuckled, a bashful smile warming his face with its presence, “it’s just been a while since I-... Well... It’s just been a while.” You smiled up at him, eyes warm with affection. You leant forward, pressing your forehead against his and shutting your eyes. 

“Just four more hours, Zoro,” you whispered, breaking contact between you and picking up your coffee, which was now lukewarm, and taking a sip. 

Unbeknownst to you, Sanji remained hidden in safety behind the door to the kitchen. Having witnessed the entire exchange, his face was completely hued with the tint of bright and vibrant red; a trickle of blood seeping from his nose down his chin, cradled by the back of his hand. 

“If this is them kissing,” he whispered to himself with a broad grin dancing against his lips, “I don’t know if I’m going to make it through the whole act.”

-.-.-.-.-.

Four long and excruciating hours passed with incredible haste, especially with Zoro offering so valiantly to take the remainder of your watch shift for you to find rest in your bedroom. Your rapidly beating heart did calm down just enough for your body to relax into a dreamless slumber, waking at the gentle shake of Sanji’s hands brushing your shoulders. 

“We’re here, Dove,” he whispered, pressing his lips against your forehead, “Are you ready to go, or do you want to give this expedition a miss?” You shot up in your bed, flinging the duvet from your body and swinging your legs off the edge of the bed to hook around Sanji’s hips. You pulled him against yourself, reaching up to circle your arms around his neck and wrangle him onto your bed with you beneath him. 

He chuckled, allowing you to drag him down and onto yourself as you placed a series of peck-like kisses onto his shoulders and neck; seasoning the chef with speckled peppered caresses. 

“Easy now, love,” Sanji chuckled, halting your kisses with the gentle brush of your hair away from your brow, “Keep that up, and you won’t get to have the swordsman.” Your face flushed at the notion, searching his eyes for any final semblance of doubt and finding only giddy anticipation and adoration in it’s place. 

“Okay,” you confirmed, nodding while undoing the skilled weave of your body from around the chef’s, “Let’s go.”

It was as easy as any other time to convince them of the need to split the party: Nami, Usopp and Luffy in one party; you, Sanji and Zoro in the other. Nami was also convinced this was the best way for the split, noticing how relaxed and the ease of tension from the two usually conflicting members of the crew balancing with you as the key element propelling them. 

Within the room of a tavern, booked and paid in full by Sanji using his own, personal, berry; your heart beat with anticipation as you were led by the hand of your lover with the green-haired swordsman trailing behind you as usual. What was not usual, was the way Sanji chaperoned you within the wall and practically threw Zoro at you as soon as the door closed. 

If he could, he would’ve grabbed both you and Zoro by the back of the head and forced your lips to meet in a passionate entanglement; all the while shimmying down your pants, flinging off your top and watching your chest bounce their perfect breasts as soon as they were freed from their confines. 

Instead, he calmly went and sat at the dining table within the room, opened his tobacco pouch and began rolling the dried leaves within the wafer-thin paper. He fished out a slim filter, placing it within the end of the fold and rolled the leaves within it, using his pierced tongue to seal the paper together, placing the filter between his lips and fished out his lighter. 

Zoro and you remained stagnant in your movements, not entirely knowing where to start with this encounter but both feeling a rise of apprehensive anticipation. Sanji scoffed, flicking the flint of his lighter to ignite the flame and inhaling the nicotine-riddled smoke. 

“Are you just going to stand there gawking at one another,” he uttered with his exhale, blowing the smoke away from your face, “Or do I need to tell you what to do, Marimo?” The tension rose, now anger depicted rather than sexual frustration. 

“You shut your damn mouth, Shit-Cook,” Zoro growled in return, halting as you placed your hand against his forearm and pulling back his attention to you. His gaze fluttered between your eyes, dancing down to your mouth briefly before you leant upwards and pressed your lips against his. Slowly and deliberately, you guided his lips to move against your own as you reached up and began prying his jacket away from his shoulders. 

He groaned against your lips, shimmying down the material to reveal his scarred chest to you. Unbreaking from the kiss, you danced your fingers over his chest, tracing the scars and scanning over his muscles as if they were written in raised braille: reading all of the emotion depicted within the pages of Zoro’s muscular torso. He placed his hands over your own, removing them from his chest to begin stripping you of your clothes, staring with your blouse; then immediately following with your bra.

Zoro wasted no time, continuing to place kiss after kiss against every piece of flesh he had access to as he removed each element of your clothing. As his lips attached themselves to your neck, he began fiddling with your belt and hoisted your pants below your hips and began to hastily rid you of them.

“Slowly,” Sanji’s voice called over, breaking you from your lustful trance as you sought out the eyes of your lover. His pupils were blown, eyes were glazed and the smallest hue of red had sprung already from his nose and dusted the floor with a few drops of blood. 

Sanji was as worked up as you were; his eyes intense with a violent longing while experiencing empathetic bliss from witnessing something as simple as being undressed by another man - that man, his rival. Zoro grunted, looking up and seeking your face; witnessing your longing glance at your lover; truly feeling how it was to be sought out with such a glance. Immediately, he was mesmerized, now completely fixated on taking his time with you to watch your face contort with pleasure he could bring you. 

Immediately, Zoro dropped to his knees; his torso perpendicular to your stomach and placing open-mouthed kisses against your belly and hips. Your breath hitched, your head thrown back, as he slowly dragged your pants from your thighs, over your knees, down to your ankles before prying them off completely. Your core was already throbbing with a shameful amount of glistening arousal at the thought of your lover watching you as you engaged with another - this other being the swordsman who had come to long for you from afar. 

You were uncertain which aspect of this dynamic had your head spinning, knees quaking and core throbbing more: Zoro now performing these acts for the first time, Sanji watching you for the first time; or Zoro fucking you for the first time while Sanji watched. Without warning, Zoro curved his index and middle fingers of his right hand within your folds, collecting the glistening strings of arousal from within them and withdrawing them from you. He held them in front of him, his jaw dropping at the amount of arousal pouring from your body. 

“I-Is she-...” Sanji’s voice stuttered, him leaning forward on the table to eagerly get a better view of the situation. Zoro chuckled, smirking up at you as you looked down at him. 

“You already ready for me, Hime?” Zoro’s rumbled voice purred at you, the expression alone having more heat rise to your abdomen and release fresh waves of arousal to coat your thighs. Zoro raised again from his crouched position, hooked his arm behind your knees and hoisted you over his shoulder. Unceremoniously, he flung you against the mattress of the room; shuffling his pants below his hips and dropping them to the floor without a second warning. 

He was bigger than Sanji. Of course he was bigger than Sanji. Although similar in height; Sanji was slender, gentle with a small waist and strong legs. Everything about the swordsman was hard and angry: his cock being no exception to this rule. Tufts of green hair splayed carelessly against the base of his shaft, a small happy trail leading down from his stomach to his cock: standing proudly to attention, and loyally waiting to receive its orders. You quickly looked over to see Sanji, who was hunched over the table now with his eyes eagerly fixated on yours.

Quickly training your eyes over his body, you saw a proud tent formed against the dark pants attached to the hips of your blond lover. You danced your focus between them, beckoning for Sanji to rise from the table and come over to the bed beside you both. 

You reached up and danced your hands over Zoro’s hips, tracing your fingertips delicately over his throbbing cock; the shaft bobbing and twitching while his knob pulsed and shone with anticipation. The smallest bead of precum began leaking from the slit, both you and Zoro as equally pent up at the aspect of joining your bodies together. You thought back to the first time he had caught you and Sanji, your body caged beneath your blond chef as he thrust and ground his hips into yours. 

Guiding the swordsman to kneel on the bed, you crawled backwards; your hair splaying out against the pillows beneath you as you continued to chaperone his large body over your own. Sanji continued to hold firm his eyes on your body, watching every small hitch of breath and elevation of hair follicle in response to a rumbled growl from the man above you. He had never seen something so beautiful in his life; no longer wondering why the swordsman was infatuated with watching you receive pleasure from a lover. 

Sanji knelt beside the bed, watching as you grasped the shaft of the swordsman above you and slowly raked his tip between your folds, guiding your slickening arousal up and danced the tip over your swollen clit. Both Zoro and your breath hitched as you pumped your hand over his cock, keeping the pressure briefly against your clit as you both closed your eyes and furrowed your brows at the feeling. 

You pulled back the shaft to expose more of his throbbing tip before raking it over your quivering hole and guiding it slowly within your entrance. The three of your voices moaned in unison, Zoro’s brows furrowing as he focussed on experiencing the feeling he had been witnessing you and Sanji involve yourself with over the weeks prior. 

“Z-Zoro, you’re really big,” you whimpered, your walls taking a small moment to stretch to accommodate for his girth. Your brows furrowed as your jaw fell slack, wincing as you ushered more of him into you - his hips slowly descending onto your own from his position above you. Sanji remained beside you, keeping his eyes hyper focussed on yours as his cock twitched and grazed the material of his briefs beneath his pants. 

“You can take it, Dove,” Sanji’s hushed whisper had your eyes snap to meet with his, blown with lust and gripping the sheets within his firm grasp. Zoro groaned as he felt your walls begin to relax around him, slowly impaling you with his entire length. You shuddered as the patch of green met against your clit, his cock twitching within your walls and throbbing with anticipation as you continued to adjust to his size. 

You turned your face once more to meet with Zoro’s gazing up through half-hooded eyes and mewling as he began to slowly drag his cock outside of your walls, only to slide it agonizingly slow back within them again. He was huffing out puffs of staggered breaths, relishing in feeling fully sheathed within you.

“Oh F-Fuck,” Zoro’s voice stuttered as he dropped his face into your neck, “I didn’t know it’d-... hgnnh-... feel this good.” You whimpered against him, desperately grinding your hips up into him. His hand staggered down to claim your thighs beneath him, hooking your knees over his hips and beginning to rock a steady rhythm against your core. 

You cried out as Zoro’s cock immediately began bullying the sensitive underside of your clit, hitting the spot within you that immediately had your walls clenching around his cock and crying his name in bliss. 

“Zoro-... h-ah-...” you whimpered, the dance of your winding and rapidly approaching orgasm beginning to spiral and coil within the pit of your belly, “-How are you doing that-?” you choked between cries of bliss. Zoro continued to slap his hips steadily against your own, chasing his own pleasure while attempting to halt his hastened pace. He didn’t want to cum without you, but the feeling was so overwhelming - especially being so long without an encounter of the like. 

“You feel-... ngmnf-... you feel so fucking good,” Zoro complimented you before his eyes began rolling as he focussed hard on not spilling his seed within you. You reached up, claiming fistfulls of his mossy hair between your fingers and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him as close as you could. You felt the cool drag of his earrings against your cheek as he nuzzled his face further into your neck.

You began to feel the rapid, staggered motion of his hips; feeling the way his hips met your own with a rapid and bruising pace. Your walls immediately began their steady thump, your toes curling as your peak began to blind you with its intensity. The warm tingle of your soul dancing beneath your skin began to shoot sparks down your body, igniting the final rise of your orgasm before you gave out your final warning.

“Zoro-... I-... fuck-... I’m cumming,” you barely had time to verbalize your vocal cry before your walls sucked him inwards, holding his cock within your walls. Zoro immediately shot his hot load within you, reveling in the feeling of your staggered and unbridled movements as your back arched off the bed beneath him.

“Fuck me-... I-I’m cumming-... oh f-fuck-... I’m cumming in you,” he growled, chasing the final waves of his orgasm as he painted his load deep within your walls. He cried your name, praying before you and worshiping the afterwaves of your walls twitching around him as you both came down from your highs. 

“Merde-... o-oh, oh sh-shit,” you heard a voice call beside you, watching as you both chased your highs and rode the waves of your mutual orgasms. 

You smoothed your hands over Zoro’s hair, rubbing his shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss against his temple. He chuckled against your neck, pressing his lips against your skin - feeling a large and wolf-like grin rise against his cheeks as he did so. 

You angled your head over, seeking out your cigarette smoking chef; eyes meeting with the most feral sight you had ever seen in your life. 

Sanji was a mess. His nose trailing red from the amount of blood rising to swell his head, his knuckles gripping the sheets so hard the material stretched and frayed beneath his fingernails. His eyes held a foreign shock to them, his lips parted as his jaw fell slack. You quickly pushed Zoro’s body off of you, unsheathing him from your core so fast he almost cried out in sorrow from the relinquishment of such warmth surrounding his rapidly reducing cock. 

“Sanji, honey are you okay?” You asked, your eyes flashing with concern as you grasped his cheeks within your palms, “Sweetheart, talk to me. Are you okay-?”

“-I just came,” Sanji managed to stutter out with an amazing rapidity. Shock knit over your face, looking to where his hands had remained firmly grasping the sheets. You cocked your head to the side, searching behind his eyes for further explanation. 

“You just-,” you began, only to have Zoro interrupt your words with a loud and unrestrained chuckle. 

“I know, right?” he managed to say once he stifled his laughter, looking over to the chef’s disheveled appearance, “Now you get why I like watching.”

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #sanji #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #black leg sanji #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #smut #sanji smut #zoro smut

[skepwith]

More Parts of the Revenge for OFMD Fans

Part of a series: Revenge Master Post.

This post is about stuff in the body of the ship, going more or less from top to bottom. I’m saving the sails and rigging for my next post. If you want to know more basic terms like fore and aft and bow and stern, look for “Parts of the Revenge” in my master post.

Obviously, using these terms is entirely optional, since David Jenkins et al. are free and easy with the ol' historical accuracy. This list is for pedants like me and people who like historical and specialized language. Enjoy!

Main Deck

The low “walls” on the sides of the open decks were called the bulwarks—they were to keep people from falling overboard. On the Revenge, the bulwarks are topped by a rail (railing).

A gap in the bulwark, together with a set of rungs on the hull, was called an entry port. It allowed people to climb aboard from a dinghy.

The top edge of the bulwark was the gunwale, pronounced gunnel. The expression “loaded to the gunwales” is still used to mean very full. The top edges of a dinghy are also called gunwales.

An opening in the deck is called a hatchway. I wrote about hatches a while ago, but what I didn’t realize was that the hatch is the part that covers the hatchway. The wooden grid that lets light and air through is called the grating.

In the bow, the curving rail that goes from the figurehead to the hull is called the head rail, which would’ve been really helpful to know for my toilet post. Oh well.

Stede’s journal could at a stretch be called a logbook (or log). This was a book in which an officer noted details of the ship’s daily progress and journey. Probably a bit less fanciful than Stede’s version.

Weaponry

The Revenge has guns (the word used for cannons) on her main deck and her gun deck. Before a gun was fired, the barrel was cleared with the sponge, then loaded with gunpowder and shot and wads of cloth, all of which was tamped down with the rammer. There were different types of shot, or ammunition; cannonballs were called round shot.

To fire a gun, a lit fuse (usually a slow match) was brought in contact with the vent at the top of the gun—called the touchhole—to ignite the gunpowder. (The wick added in OFMD isn’t accurate. Shocking, I know.) The slow match was usually held with a staff called a linstock, tucked into a notch on the end. You didn’t want to be right next to the cannon when it went off, because there was a non-zero chance it would misfire and explode in your face.

Despite what you see in movies, cannons didn’t produce a lot of fire and smoke; the cannonball did damage by going unstoppably through hulls, masts, and people—often many at a time—like a deadly Energizer bunny.

The gunpowder was kept in kegs in a small room called the powder magazine. (A magazine is an ammunition storage area.) This room was in the hull of the ship, below the water line, to minimize the chances of a stray spark sending the whole ship up in flames. The shot was kept in the shot-locker, a small room in the hold (though this word wasn’t recorded till 1805). As we know, Stede calls this the ball room.

Besides the regular cannons, the Revenge also has swivel guns, small cannons mounted on swivels. These were too small to damage another ship; they were there to fire at boarders and approaching boats. Or, you know, to set off fireworks.

To take an enemy ship, sailors might use a grapnel (or grappling hook). These were attached to a rope and thrown at enemy bulwarks or rigging so the ships could be pulled together for boarding.

The Gun Deck

Everything on a ship had to have a special name: stairs were always called ladders; the floor was called the deck; and a wall or partition inside the hull was called a bulkhead.

Some of you may know that a ship’s kitchen is called a galley. However, this usage wasn’t recorded until 1750; the earlier word was cook-room.

Likewise, the mess is where you eat on a ship, but this sense wasn’t recorded until the late 1800s. In OFMD’s time, mess meant “a group of people who eat together,” like officers of the same rank or sailors on the same watch.

You might know a berth as a shelf or box to sleep on, like Stede’s (and Ed’s) bed, but this usage wasn’t recorded until the 1790s. The earlier meaning, used from at least 1706, is “a room where a particular group (such as officers or midshipmen) eats and sleeps.” So you might call Jim’s room a berth—except that it changes hands, and its name has been firmly established as the Room.

A berth is also a place in a port or harbour where you can moor (park) a vessel, and thirdly, the safety margin around another vessel or object, which gives us the phrase “to give [it] a wide berth.”

Finally, the area where the animals (remember them?) were kept was a small triangular area in the bow called the manger. This seems to be where the Revenge’s en suite is, at least as far as I can figure, but if you want to include the animals for whatever reason, they’d probably live somewhere around there.

Storage

Some of the stuff on board was stored in casks, a.k.a. barrels. These could be any size, but a large cask was also called a butt. A scuttlebutt was a butt full of water attached to the deck for sailors to drink from. Unfortunately, the word wasn’t recorded before 1800, and the “gossip” meaning not till a century after that. But it’s a great word and you should use it anyway.

A keg was a small cask, usually less than ten gallons, used for things like gunpowder or rum.

A sea chest was a wooden box used to store an officer’s personal effects—or to confine a nosy hombrecito.

The Ship’s Bottom

(As it were.)

In several of my posts and diagrams I said the lower decks of the Revenge were the gun deck, the orlop, and the hold. But my friends, I made a grievous error: the Revenge has no orlop. I know!

In season 2, for the first time we get to see what’s below the gun deck. When Frenchie opens the secret passage in the kitchen, he reveals a set of stairs—sorry, a ladder—down to a grim, damp space. The kitchen is on the gun deck, so this is the deck immediately below it, and while on most ships that would’ve been the orlop, in this case it’s the hold.

The hold was the lowest compartment of the ship, used for storage and cargo. It also sometimes held the ballast—heavy stuff (e.g., pig iron, gravel, stones, lead) put there to improve the ship’s balance. The lowest part of the hold itself was called the bilge or bilges—the area where bilgewater collected and had to be pumped out.

Episode 3 shows the water on the floor—sorry, deck—making it pretty clear we’re in the bilges of the hold. On top of that, an Instagram post by crewmember Will Giles (shared on Tumblr by @ourflagmeansbts) mentioned repurposing the “bilge set.”

Which all proves that the Revenge’s hold is immediately below the gun deck, with no orlop in between.

The keel is the structural piece that runs lengthwise along the middle of the hull’s bottom. Keel-hauling was to drag someone along the outside of the keel, underwater, as a punishment—very nasty, often fatal.

Also underwater, at the stern, is the rudder, whose movement makes the ship turn. On a dinghy you steer by moving the tiller, a horizontal bar attached to the rudder post. On a ship like the Revenge, you turn the ship’s wheel, which is attached to the tiller via cables, and that moves the rudder.

That’s all for now! Coming next: sails and rigging, in port, and more sailing lingo.

Sources: Wikipedia, historicnavalfiction [dot] com, Oxford English Dictionary

#ofmd #ofmd meta #mapping the Revenge #nautical history #adopt our crew

[anotherscrappile]

@a-model-of-propriety Them :)

#nikolai antonov #rune hermansen #from the ship logbooks #my art

[a-model-of-propriety]

(slams hands on table)

Write about Andrey, please :)

apologies for the super long wait, but i hope this makes up for it!

–

A prickle down his spine told Andrey that someone was staring at him, and a quick glance behind him confirmed that Bellavoir was the source.

Again?

“Everything all right, Bellavoir?” Andrey asked in his limited English.

“What?” he responded, as if he had just recovered his thoughts. “Oh, nothing, I’m– uhhhh– I’m fine.”

Andrey shrugged. If he said so. Besides, whatever seemed to have come over Bellavoir was none of his concern. So, that being sorted, Andrey pulled off his coat, sat himself down a few feet away from Bellavoir, and took out his needle and thread. He had a couple hours before he needed to be on duty, and he was determined to spend them mastering the new stitch pattern he wanted to use in his bigger project.

As he tied off the thread and began pulling it through the fabric of his sleeves, he noticed that Bellavoir was still looking his way. Andrey sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he would not get to embroider in peace today.

“Are you looking at the coat or me?” he asked flatly, barely glancing in Bellavoir’s direction.

At this question, Bellavoir quickly averted his gaze. “Um, at the, uhhhhh, the coat,” he said, though his tone did not inspire much faith in his answer.

Still, it wasn’t Andrey’s place to judge. “I’m just messing around on it right now,” he said. “I do that a lot, mostly to practice new stitches. See?” He held out the sleeve for Bellavoir to see the myriad of stitchery covering it. “Once I’ve got this one mastered, I’ll start working on my real project again.”

Bellavoir looked at the sleeve in fascination. “I didn’t know you sewed,” he said.

“Embroidery, mostly,” was Andrey’s response, “plus repairing my clothes. Don’t do very much actual ‘sewing’, I was never all that great at making things.”

“I sew too,” Bellavoir said, digging around in his coat. After a few moments of searching, he pulled out the stuffed horse. “I made Poulain for, um, for my son.”

He held out the horse to Andrey, who accepted it. A quick examination of the plush told Andrey that Bellavoir was clearly skilled. “It’s very good,” he grunted as he handed it back to Bellavoir.

At the compliment, Bellavoir blushed. “Thank you,” he stuttered out.

Andrey returned to his embroidery, noting that Bellavoir, though clearly trying to be more subtle, still kept his attention focused on him. Andrey shrugged it off. None of his business, after all.

#seph answers #seph writes #from the ship logbooks #andrey morozov #pierre bellavoir #they are both so beloved <333 #Bell deserves to O–O at one of his many crushes methinks😌

[dippydots]

Day 5 AND 6 of December Doodles!!! Here is Sascha and Owain, (belonging to @severedfeetpics and @aimless--jack respectively) dressed in costumes <3

#december doodles #from the ship logbooks #sascha claus #owain rhys

[pixelmuppet]

I know that it could never happen but Adam hanging out with Winston? 👉👈

Adam makes a wonderful model

#muppet art #from the ship logbooks #frankenstein #winston atkinson #Adam Frankenstein

[vvintagerose]

Valentine Meets Mittens

When Valentine joined a two-year expedition to the Arctic, they didn’t much know what to expect. Hell, they’d only taken it because Corbin, the man who’d taken them and a dozen others into his home in London after fleeing France, was going on it aswell, and they’d follow that man anywhere if he seemed confident in his decisions.

They spent the first few weeks not talking much to anyone, always a bit overwhelmed by new people and large crowds. Everyone was polite if at least not openly hostile, so that would something. As always they received a few questions about their hand, but nothing they hadn’t heard before.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Not sure, I was born like this.”

“Does it still work?”

“3/5ths as well as a normal hand, I guess.”

“Is it contagious?”

“Yes, and fatal. Once my last finger falls off I’m a goner.”

After that last answer, they’d give a fake cough and smile behind their hand at the look of panic the asker would give before making some excuse to scurry off, shooting them furtive looks from a ways away and checking their own hands to ensure they still had all their fingers. Unfortunately, it seemed fun wasn’t allowed on this ship, as only a few passes at the bit had landed them in front of the Captain with a warning to “cut that out before there’s a full-blown panic onboard.”

Prudes.

The next few weeks were spent in relative quiet. They were on their way to Bergen to gather more sailors, and when they set foot in port they stayed a short distance from the crowd, not talking to anyone.

At least, until they caught the eye- er, fringe- of a short, stocky blonde man and gave an awkward wave. Bad move decision, they realized, he noticed the strange shape of their hand and his face lit up in surprise.

“Du er som meg!”

“Er, what?”

He held up his own hands, the smile growing bigger on his face. The man’s fingers were fused, giving him only three fingers plus a thumb on each hand. Valentine tilted their head in curiosity.

“Ah! I see what you’re saying!” They held their hand out, wiggling the only two fingers on it.

His smile grew impossibly bigger before he skipped off to the crowd gathering before Robert and the other officers. Oh, it looked like he was going on the voyage as well? Silently they were glad to have someone who didn’t immediately balk at their deformity onboard

They turned to venture further into the city, intending to see more of Bergen before they departed, and walked face first into the chest of a tall, intimidating man staring daggers down at them.

Gulping down the fear rising in their throat, they stuttered out a hello to the terrifying figure.

“M-May I help you?”

Without saying a word, they brought two fingers to their eyes before jabbing them towards Val. A clear gesture of “I’m watching you.” before stalking away, also towards the crowd. The man they’d talked to moments before struck up a conversation with them. Val still couldn’t understand what they were saying, but could tell from the tone that he was familiar with this goliath.

Christ, this would be a strange voyage.

#from the ship logbooks #valentine laurent #martin strøm #rune hermansen #my.writing

[kobb4ni2]

I just read you sea serpent reader and I have been having thought on how everyone who meet reader!

Strawhats

*Were on day fishing and somehow the hook got onto readers tail or hair and was force to surface to see where the hook is from*

Reader who surface and is staring at the Strawhats: Hi

Luffy/Sanji/Chopper/Usopp/Nami: FOOD/LADY/MONSTER

Red-haired Pirates

*crashes on an island that reader was chilling*

Shanks: want a drink?

Crew: IDIOT!

Beast Pirates

*Appeared at Wano bc Kaido tried to kill himself for the millionth time and ended up in Readers territory.

Yamato see reader for the first time: READER! WILL YOU MARRY ME!

Everyone: Young Master!!!!

Marines HQ

*Got in trouble because she sunk a Celestial Dragon ship*

Akainu: You can't keep sinking every ship that you see because you don't like them

Reader pounting and acting guilty: Sowwwy

Akainu: We will let this slide (for the thousandths time)

[ FEM READER ]

The Strawhats would have heard of you from stories of Jimbie or Robin explaining the poneglyph that consisted of your name, which could be traced back from Skypiea and ect.

This is just a rundown of how some strawhats knew about your existence :3

Luffy would have definitely heard many stories about you from his grandpa or the Red hair pirate, Shanks saying that one day you will be his bride and all.

Franky would have also heard stories of you from Tom and from Kokoro, he might have read your name in the Pluton sheet (I forgot what it’s called 😭)

Nami would have overheard from Arlong and the other fishmen because Sea Serpent! Reader is basically their Goddess.

AND ROBIN OOH LOORRDD, Robin would actually have an obsession on you before you ever even met the Strawhats, the old books of Ohara would have so many information out of you, and since you were close to Joyboy she would always somehow read your name in one of the poneglyphs which made her incredibly hooked on you.

Sanji from Zeff and you being related to the ocean, you must know about the all blue them!!

But ya know just one day the crew were just fishing, everyone is doing their own thing, Franky made a huge fishing net to capture more fishes, which works perfectly fine (more food for Luffy yippiee) and just yoink. They just yoinked Sea Serpent! Reader out of the water while she was just sleeping…. Means the Strawhats woke her up from her nap dawg😞

Sea Serpent! Reader: Umm…Hi? You woke me up from my nap.

Luffy would be starry eyed while Sanji is turned into stone when he saw your beauty, Zoro would be on guard, Chopper,Ussop and Nami would be freighted, but Nami would have this sense of familiar towards you, while Jimbie, Robin, Brook and Franky (aka the oldest) are amazed that YOU ARE ACTUALLY REAL!! (World government hid you from the world basically) I mean they knew you were real but ya know the world government and stuff…

The Red Hair Pirates Shanks specifically KNEW YOU ALREADY, but only stories from Roger and Reighley, Shanks knew that you were real but was only being hold as a dangerous being to the World Government so they have to somehow keep you in a leash, but that didn’t really stop you from exploring island to island and that where you saw the Red Hair Pirates, drunk or not Shanks would start flirting with you the minute you agree to join their party ;3

BEAST PIRATES LETS GOOO GRAAAGGHHH

You saved Kaido from drowning after his “I have lost count” attempt, you the dragged his ass back to Wano, but before you can leave you were SOMEHOW detained and kept in a fancy room, that’s when Yamato met you, he heard that King ordered you to be held captive for a while, and the closer Yamato saw you the more you reminded him of the stories of Oden in his logbook about a Sea Serpent who had travelled with the Roger Pirates for only a few months, and when his suspicion was confirmed he immediately jumped out of his hiding spot and went to hug your tail, you were shocked but the boy Yamato kept on ranting about you, about opening up Wano and Oden and stuff, Yamato even said that after Wano is open he will marry you!!! (King is fuming rn)

The power you hold when it comes to the Marines is insane, the Gorosei will always send at least one Admiral to check up on you or if you’re going somewhere. It’s no secret you despise the Celestial Dragons, how could you not! Those are the people that brings extreme slavery and injustice not just towards your people but to everyone alike. You swear to Akainu that you didn’t even hit the celestial dragons boat, you just accidentally nudge it!! No you didn’t sent waves towards a boat that contains a bunch of Celestial Dragon, you were just swimming and your tail made too much force!! You have to forgive Sea Serpent! Reader!!

#I’m sick today bro but that’s not gonna stop me 😈😈😈 the alpha grind never stops💪💪 #one piece #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #one piece x reader #yandere one piece #yandere op #yandere one piece x reader #yandere Strawhats #yandere Yamato #Yamato x reader #yandere Nico Robin #nico Robin x reader #Sea Serpent! Reader

[silentsamlikesham]

More Zosan fluff because I'm obsessed. Slight hurt!Zoro. Pre-relationship massages

..........................

It’s only as Sanji signs off the last of the stock in his logbook that he realises how quiet it is. He’s not sure he’s ever gotten through a full review without someone crashing into the kitchen to interrupt him. 

The crew may be asleep at this hour, but still, usually whoever is on watch will find an excuse to want a snack or a drink. Sanji slips the book back into the little shelf beneath the sink, brushing himself off as he stands, stretching out his limbs after having leant over the kitchen counter for the last hour or so.

Perhaps everyone was too tired. They’d had a long few days of fighting on an island that now was, fortunately, miles behind them. He’d only woken up from his own injuries a few hours ago, hence why he was wide awake now as the moon sat high above them. 

Who was even on watch tonight? Surely, he hadn’t gotten it confused and it’s meant to be himself up in the crow’s nest.

He sticks his head out the window of the galley and cranes his neck upwards, spotting a familiar flash of green in the moonlight. Huh. If it was Zoro up there, Sanji definitely should have seen him by now. 

He closes the window and finds his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. 

“What happened?” Sanji had slurred the question as soon as he opened his eyes, lying comfortably in the ship’s infirmary.

“You took a hit to the head. Chopper says you’re fine though.” 

It was Nami settled beside him, a map spread across her lap as she watched over him.

He’d tried to put on his usual grandeur with thanking her and complimenting her, but he coughed half-way through his first chant. She’d passed him a glass of water with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Take it easy, you’re bruised all over. Zoro wasn’t exactly gentle dragging you here either, it wasn’t easy with his own wounds.”

Moss head had brought him to the ship?

Sanji grabs a bottle of wine he’s hidden behind several sacks of grain and makes the quick decision to head to the crow’s nest. He convinces himself it’s to even the field, to not feel like he owed Zoro anything for getting him back safely. There was no other reason he’d willingly check in on the idiot. He didn’t need Sanji’s worry. That’s not what they did. 

He climbs the crow’s nest, his chest complaining every time he stretches a hand upwards, gripping at the rope ladder and hoisting himself higher and higher. He doesn’t bother knocking, just swings the hatch open.

Zoro is sat facing the hatch, his back resting against the wooden curved wall of the crow's nest as his head almost hangs over the edge. His legs are sprawled out with his swords sitting half over his lap. His eyes had been closed, and for a moment Sanji wonders if the bastard had fallen asleep.

His eyes open slowly, glaring at the intruder, his gaze hardening further when he realises it’s the damn cook that’s come to annoy him.

“What do you want.”

His voice is strained, missing its usual bite. It’s then Sanji notices how rigid the man is sitting, not lounging like he usually does when he’s on watch.

“Thought you were dead up here when you didn’t come looking for a drink.” Sanji scoffs as he slowly pulls himself up, closing the door shut with a wince as a twinge of pain courses from his wrist to his shoulder. He should really keep track of which limbs he shouldn’t be swinging around.

“So, you brought me one?” Zoro is instantly suspicious, eyeing up the bottle like it’s laced with poison, or maybe it’s going to explode. 

“Don’t get used to it.” Sanji warns, pulling the cork from the top of it and taking a swig. It’s a welcome distraction as he sits down beside the brute, more pain blossoming along his hamstrings at the action. He passes the bottle without a glance at the other, the sloshing of wine the only sound between them.

Zoro just grunts, not in the mood to fight the cook. He takes the bottle and downs at least a glass worth of the liquor, sighing happily as he settles it between them. 

He squirms after moving his shoulder, his back aching from being thrown into a wall the day before. Usually, he could take it but the damn fishman had knocked him hard. No matter how he sat or lay down now, nothing could keep the discomfort away.

Zoro had even tried mediating earlier, thinking about anything but his pain, but it didn’t work. There just wasn’t enough pain to block out, it was more like an irritating throb. He’d forget about it but then the tiniest shift of his shoulder or back muscles would have his muscles convulsing and tightening in odd ways. He shifts his weight as softly as he can, hoping the cook doesn’t notice the weakness.

Of course, he does. Sanji can see the strain in Zoro’s neck, the sweat pooling on Zoro’s brow despite the cool temperature in the crow’s nest and the sea breeze that brushes past them. The idiot is in pain, maybe even more than Sanji is.

“You should get some painkillers from the infirmary; Chopper keeps them in the first aid box.” Sanji suggests, wondering if he hasn’t left yet because he’s too tired to try moving again or because seeing Zoro like this is unsettling enough that he doesn’t want to leave the swordsman alone. 

“Fuck off.” Zoro groans, his skin crawling at the concern. Maybe a fight with the cook would be better, he hates how soft his gaze feels right now. He’s looking at Zoro like he’s fragile.“I dragged your sorry ass back here, why don’t you worry about yourself.”

“Shut up, stupid moss for brains. Just because I hate the sight of you doesn’t mean I can’t suggest something as simple as pain killers when you’re obviously in pain. No need to get so fucking defensive.” Sanji bites back, his hackles raised, definitely not getting defensive himself.

“M’fine.” Zoro insists, shutting his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Sanji’s stupid eyebrows any longer. 

“Clearly.” Sanji mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What are you even still doing here, it’s my watch. You’ve done your little delivery, leave me alone.”

The cook never hangs around like this. Zoro wonders if it’s some pride thing, maybe Curley was feeling embarrassed having to be dragged home. Well, that’s not Zoro’s fault. Maybe next time the idiot can just stay conscious. 

Sanji lights a cigarette instead. Blowing the smoke upwards against the stars. With his eyes closed Sanji can take a longer look at his crewmate without worrying about a sudden sword being pulled on him. 

Zoro can sleep anywhere. After being a swordsman and being capable of getting lost anywhere he goes, his ability to sleep is what he’s most infamous for amongst the crew. He can even nap standing up, Sanji has witnessed it himself.

Yet, he looks uncomfortable right now. Sitting in maybe one of his favourite napping spots on the whole ship. His posture is all wrong, his shoulders bunched up, his neck straining to keep his head at an odd angle. 

Sanji is probably about to get a limb cut off, but despite it being Zoro, he still doesn’t like seeing one of his nakama in pain. Unless of course it was Sanji’s doing. 

He picks up the wine bottle right as Zoro reaches blindly for it, the sound of it scraping off the wood enough to have him opening his eyes, narrowing them in suspicion as Sanji holds the bottle just out of reach.

“Turn around.” Sanji insists, trying to sound as calm as possible as not to set their usual bickering off.

“Huh?” Zoro grumbles, completely taken aback by being ordered to do anything by the cook.

“Turn around, dumbass.” Sanji retorts, his patience running out immediately. Okay, so apparently, he had none when it came to Zoro.

“I don’t take orders from you, dart-brow.” 

Sanji digs his fingernails into the palm of his free hand to stop himself from raising his leg and forcing Zoro to do it.

“You want the drink, turn around. I’m not going to clobber you, Marimo.”

“What the fuck do you want then?” Zoro tilts his head, looking surprisingly cute- STUPID. Looking incredibly stupid as he tries to work out what Sanji is up to. 

Sanji waves the bottle teasingly instead, and Zoro realises he’s way too sore to be putting up with Sanji’s shit. So, with a sigh he grabs the bottle lightning fast and spins 90 degrees away from Sanji. Resting his shoulder heavily on the crows nest. 

The position is so much worse, his legs being forced to bend against the curve of the space. His shoulders and back complain as they’re forced to hold himself up. Maybe the idiot cook just didn’t want Zoro to see him struggle to his feet. Whatever, he’d be gone quicker this way.

But Sanji doesn’t get up. Instead, he finds himself choking as his throat tightens, staring at the unprotected back of his crewmate. A back that Zoro defended with his life, a back he would never leave open to an enemy, would never allow a blade to pierce or mark. Here it was, unprotected, pointing at who Sanji imagined was Zoro’s least favourite person on the ship. 

He shakes himself out of the train of thought. He’s definitely overthinking this.

Still, he going to appreciate the trust while he has it. It means something special. So, carefully he scoots forwards, sitting on his knees behind Zoro despite the prickles of pain in his legs from the position.

Zoro jumps when he places his hands on the dip of the other man’s shoulders, right beside his neck.

“What the fuck are you-” Zoro’s panicked question is cut off by Sanji digging his skilled fingers into the lump of muscle there, using pressure to ease the tension away. Zoro can feel things unclicking, pain unfurling from a tight ache to a more bearable throb before it seems to melt away entirely.

Sanji chuckles as the fight leaves the Marimo straight away, the hand that had clasped his swords, ready to smash a hilt into the side of Sanji’s head, lets go. He even places the wine down beside him. Resting his hands on his thighs now as he accidentally moans under his next breath.

Sanji is pushing the bottom of his palm outwards now, dragging the knots until they dissapeared beneath his touch. His thumbs catche more tension along the top of Zoro’s back and Zoro hisses as finally he can drop his shoulders without a shooting pain running from his neck to the bottom of his spine.

“Wha-What are you doing.” Zoro should be embarrassed by how breathless he sounds but as Sanji places the side of his pinkie finger against his spin and pushes harshly outwards towards the back of his shoulder blade, dislodging hours of tension and pain in a couple of swift swipes, he can’t help it. 

It feels good. 

“Stewing in pain is only going to lock up every muscle in your back, Mossbrain. Just let me take care of it.” Let me take care of you.

“Why?” Zoro groans, trying to twist his head to get a read on the cook, but he flinches as his neck tweaks.

Sanji seems to notice the issues and brushes his hands upwards. His fingers grind into the base of his neck, pushing out and downwards, dragging the tension low before massaging it away. 

He doesn't know how to answer Zoro's question, so he lets his hands speak for him.

His fingers brush through the stubble of spikey hair at the base of Zoro’s neck and the swordsman lets in a sharp breath at the tingles that explode from the touch. His brain feels like it’s short circuiting trying to rationalise that Sanji could make him feel this way, could make him relax against his touch, make him lean into his personal space, suddenly yearning to be closer.

“Hmm, maybe I should start calling you putty instead of Moss.” Sanji teases, pleasantly surprised by how the Marimo was unwinding under his touch now. He must have been in more discomfort than Sanji had first thought. 

“Fuck off.” There’s no heat in the comeback. Not when Zoro’s head is now lolling comfortably forward for the first time in two days. His chin nestled against his chest as Sanji continues working through both his shoulders. 

Silence stretching out between them. Neither of them sure what to say as Sanji, always one to enjoy helping his crew, comes to terms with enjoying helping Zoro for the first time. While Zoro is struggling to stay awake as after a day of being unable to nap ends with finally finding solace from the aches. 

He feels warm all over, his chest now swaying with the push and pull of Sanji’s motions. Every time the Cook’s hands make their way back up to his neck, he feels like he’s being electrocuted and then smothered in a warm blanket. His eyelids are drooping now, not the best situation for someone who’s meant to be on watch for the next few hours.

Sanji notices the fatigue taking hold of him. Notices the fists uncurling into shaky fingers. He’s never seen Zoro look so unsteady. 

Well, things were weird enough already, and Sanji isn’t someone who cares for somebody half-arsed.

He pulls his hands away, blushing at the involuntary whimper from Zoro who seems to instantly tense at the sound. The idiot clears his throat and is probably about to say or do something incredibly stupid when Sanji sits directly behind him, his back against the wall, and before Zoro can react, he reaches a hand around to Zoro’s chest and pulls him harshly backwards.

Zoro stares at the stars and the last of the smoke pluming from Sanji’s cigarette. He stares at the upturned chin and calculating eyes of the cook, confused at how he’d gotten into this position.

His face heats up and he’s about to fight back, to uppercut the jerk and kick him out of the crow’s nest, massage or not, the fucker can’t just-

A hand reaches up and ruffles through Zoro’s hair. His eyes almost roll back as he relaxes and feels his back melt peacefully into the thick thighs beneath him. Any fight leaves him as Sanji scratches his scalp, his eyelids fluttering closed as the blonde idiot chuckles fondly.

“Go to sleep, Marimo. I’ll handle the watch.”

“What the fucks gotten into you.” Zoro grumbles, trying to act pissed off as he feels himself slipping away. Leaving himself at the mercy of the Cook.

Sanji doesn’t answer. Instead, he struggles with the question for the next few hours. His hands absentmindedly trace over Zoro’s hair and his chest as he watches the green idiot’s breath even out, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful continuous rhythm.

He tries to convince himself this was all so Zoro couldn’t use saving him as a comeback for the next few weeks. That this was all cannon fodder to tease the Mosshead about for years to come. But as Zoro starts to snore, Sanji realises he like the pressure on his lap.

He likes the warmth that radiates off the human stove. 

He likes taking care of Zoro.

Finally, just as the sun peaks the horizon, as the sky changes colour above them and when Sanji is certain no one is awake for miles, that he’s the only one capable of hearing his own thoughts…he thinks to himself, maybe he just likes Zoro.

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