[ Like an audience member forced to spectate on a tennis match in the bowels of hell, Nami’s gaze flicks side to side, a look of wholly unimpressed boredom on her face while she watches Sanji and Zoro argue—again. Posed in the doorway of the galley with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pursed disdainfully, she wonders if they even remember what they’re fighting about after a slew of utterly inane barbs and underwhelming comebacks make it physically impossible for her not to roll her eyes.
It’s been obvious for weeks that they want to fuck, just like Sanji’s made it very apparent he’d be beyond happy ending up in her bed, just like she thinks she’s made it clear that both he and Zoro are comfortable, safe, and hot enough to mess around with. And yet, rather than doing any of that, here they stand, squaring up and shouting about something completely stupid.
The fact of the matter is, she likes them.
They’re idiots, but she likes them more than the various partners she’s fallen into bed with mid-hustle out of need, only to be gone before sunrise the next day. Her crew is fast becoming the most important thing in the world to her, and the prudent side of Nami that never rushes into anything without a plan wants nothing more than to preserve that and keep her thoughts to herself. But if these two morons are barely doing that, then why should she?
Righting herself from her spot leaning against the doorframe with the world’s weariest sigh, she regards them both before decisively passing judgment. ]
This is boring.
[ An underwhelmed declaration, one Nami says loud enough for them to hear and, ideally, look up just in time to watch her pull her dress over her head while she turns, before tossing it over her shoulder with all the pointed oomph of someone who is trying to hit someone else in the face. Which she is, and they’re lucky it’s with nothing heavier than her clothing.
Nami lingers long enough to give them both the chance to enjoy the curve of what she knows is an utterly perfect ass before she saunters out of sight, moving languidly despite the fact that were Usopp or Luffy to wake up, she would have a lot to answer for. She’s banking on the seconds and thirds they both had at dinner to keep them knocked out for the rest of the night and knows them both well enough to know the odds are in her favor.
In little more than a minute she’s inside her room the door left ajar, her panties off and balled up in her hand, making them easy to throw at the one she missed with her dress (fair is fair after all) once Sanji and Zoro are both inside. ]
Can you both behave?
[ Her eyes pinch at the corners, narrowing appraisingly as she slides between them, both hands resting on either of their chests, fingers curling in the fabric of their shirts while the greedy part of her flares to life just enough to relish the differences between them. ]
🍾🍾
It’s been obvious for weeks that they want to fuck, just like Sanji’s made it very apparent he’d be beyond happy ending up in her bed, just like she thinks she’s made it clear that both he and Zoro are comfortable, safe, and hot enough to mess around with. And yet, rather than doing any of that, here they stand, squaring up and shouting about something completely stupid.
The fact of the matter is, she likes them.
They’re idiots, but she likes them more than the various partners she’s fallen into bed with mid-hustle out of need, only to be gone before sunrise the next day. Her crew is fast becoming the most important thing in the world to her, and the prudent side of Nami that never rushes into anything without a plan wants nothing more than to preserve that and keep her thoughts to herself. But if these two morons are barely doing that, then why should she?
Righting herself from her spot leaning against the doorframe with the world’s weariest sigh, she regards them both before decisively passing judgment. ]
This is boring.
[ An underwhelmed declaration, one Nami says loud enough for them to hear and, ideally, look up just in time to watch her pull her dress over her head while she turns, before tossing it over her shoulder with all the pointed oomph of someone who is trying to hit someone else in the face. Which she is, and they’re lucky it’s with nothing heavier than her clothing.
Nami lingers long enough to give them both the chance to enjoy the curve of what she knows is an utterly perfect ass before she saunters out of sight, moving languidly despite the fact that were Usopp or Luffy to wake up, she would have a lot to answer for. She’s banking on the seconds and thirds they both had at dinner to keep them knocked out for the rest of the night and knows them both well enough to know the odds are in her favor.
In little more than a minute she’s inside her room the door left ajar, her panties off and balled up in her hand, making them easy to throw at the one she missed with her dress (fair is fair after all) once Sanji and Zoro are both inside. ]
Can you both behave?
[ Her eyes pinch at the corners, narrowing appraisingly as she slides between them, both hands resting on either of their chests, fingers curling in the fabric of their shirts while the greedy part of her flares to life just enough to relish the differences between them. ]
You idiots better not make me regret this.