Salmon Pink (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
salmon_pink) wrote2007-12-25 12:05 pm
salmon_pink) wrote2007-12-25 12:05 pm
(One Piece) Sole
Title: Sole
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Franky/Robin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2552
Timeline: Post-Enies Lobby
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50_smutlets, prompt "thigh highs".
Summary: Those boots. Damn, those boots.
People often tell Franky to cover up. He wants to tell them that if Tom couldn’t get him to cover up, there’s no way in hell some self-important carpenter or punk-ass pirate could ever get him in trousers.
He doesn’t though. He’ll insult them, or shout, and sometimes he’ll perform one of his more super songs about why it’s great to run around half-naked, because he knows it pisses them off. Or he’ll punch them. Whatever.
The point is, Franky doesn’t care about what other people think of his dress sense, or lack of it.
He’d never once, in all his years, felt exposed.
Until he met Nico Robin.
There was something about her, about the way she moved, and that strength in her eyes, shining so brightly behind the tears. Something about the way that nearly every part of her had been covered except for that taunting little strip of thigh between her dress and her boots that made Franky shiver a little, and sweat a lot, and suddenly feel very very underdressed.
There’s not much hiding your body’s reaction when you’re only wearing tiny black swim trunks.
Then there’d been the battle and the screaming and the fighting, and then there’d been the Wanted poster and the nakedness, and then they’d all been nakama. And Franky had felt a little more comfortable around Robin, because there wasn’t much embarrassment left to be had when she’d already had a firm hold on his pride and joy, and he doesn’t like to really think about that. He tries not to think about that, because, damn, it had hurt and, damn, he hadn’t had a beautiful woman get quite such a firm grip on him in a long time, and he still regarded it as a wasted opportunity.
So he and Robin had settled into their new standing in the crew, with Franky being the new guy and Robin feeling much more secure in herself, and everything was great, super even, and they were friends. Robin had opened up to him, and he’d opened up to her, and they don’t really talk that much about it, but they feel the connection there all the same.
Franky’s content, and they’re all family, and Franky knows it’s a bad idea to harbour secret fantasies about family, no matter how much his libido might disagree.
And it’s definitely a family occasion, with decorations and a palm tree covered in baubles, because the last island they stopped at didn’t have firs, and Usopp singing carols. Franky enjoys the challenge of accompanying him on his guitar, because Usopp keeps deviating from the words and melodies to turn every song from being about goodwill and festivities to a tale of rip-roaring adventure about the many times he’d saved Christmas from angry sea kings and evil but beautiful snow queens.
Everyone’s made an effort. Nami’s wearing a low-cut red and green dress, the sexiest elf Santa never had, and Luffy’s whooping and practicing the dance moves Franky’s been secretly teaching him, tinsel wrapped around his neck, waist and torso like a glittering hyperactive boa constrictor. Sanji’s wearing an appropriately festive tie, and even Zoro’s wearing a Father Christmas hat, although that’s probably something to do with the way Chopper had stared up at him, eyes wide and smile expectant under the baubles swinging from his antlers, when Nami had first tossed the hat at Zoro’s face.
Robin, though, she’s something else.
It’s possible that Luffy buys his excuse, but he’s probably the only one. Everyone just kind of stares at him as he backs out of the door, carefully not looking at Robin as he manoeuvres around her, mumbling and really hoping he isn’t blushing. “I just have to go check on something, check ups, yeah, mechanical checks, engineering, routine but highly essential mechanical checks, alone, in my workshop, very complicated, very dangerous, no disturbances, emergency, requires intense concentration, I mean it, don’t anybody come down there, seriously!”
He’s sprinting down the corridor before anyone can object.
It’s quiet in his workshop, unnaturally so after the singing and cheering. Cold, too, the furnace having been shut off for the day, and he tugs at the collar of his festive shirt, fingers tracing over patterns of holly wreaths and Christmas puddings, and thinks that maybe he should have put on some trousers for once.
Not that it matters, because Franky knows he’d still feel exposed. There’s something about Robin that makes him feel so naked, and he shivers and slumps against the wall.
Christmas songs are supposed to be happy, but every tune he whistles to himself sounds miserable as he waits for the chill to take over and calm his body down.
It’s kind of cheating. She probably doesn’t know, except she maybe does, because she’s like that. Red dress, buttoned low, cut high, fluffy white trimming brushing over her thighs.
And those damn boots.
It really isn’t fair, because Enies Lobby was about fighting for his beliefs, and seeing others fight for theirs, and it was about a turning point in his life. It was about taking a step forward, even when he knew that he could never step back ever again, and it was about blood and honour and love, and it really pisses him off that he can’t think of any of that, because all he sees in his memories is that stretch of skin just under the hem of her dress, and those damn boots.
He’s flicking through the blueprints on his desk, desperate for distraction, when he hears the click of heels on the stairs outside. He knows there are only so many places to hide on a ship, even one as vast and intricate as the Sunny, but a quick glance around reminds him that he probably should have chosen a hiding place with more than one exit.
The door swings open before he can think to barricade it and he catches a glimpse of Robin’s passive smile and the slightly harder look in her eyes before his gaze slides down over curves and thigh high leather and away to the opposite wall.
“Sorry ‘bout leaving like that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly and resisting the urge to pose. “I had to … You know …”
“Yes, emergency routine mechanical checks, wasn’t it?” Robin asks, her voice carefully measured.
Franky smiles sheepishly, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “Ho ho ho?” he tries, and the air between them feels all wrong.
The look in her eyes doesn’t soften, only grows hollow, and Franky feels a sickening wave of guilt wash over him as, like the flick of a switch, he realises just how much he’s offended her. Robin’s a grown woman and one of the kindest and smartest people he’s ever met, and she can shrug off his erratic behaviour and has done since he boarded the Sunny. But his running from the room the second she walked in is a step too far, and he realises that she’s probably angry at him, and wonders why it took her so long to lose patience with him.
“Sorry,” he says again, a little louder, sure she’ll understand he means it.
“Everyone wants you back at the party,” she replies, and he knows she including herself in the statement. “Although it may be more convenient for everyone if we resolve this matter beforehand.”
“Resolve?” Franky asks, a little wary, wondering if that’s code for Robin smacking him in the head, although that sounds more like Nami’s forte.
“The tension,” Robin explains. That familiar lights seems to creep back into her eyes as she points to the ceiling. “A little mistletoe can go a long way.”
Franky frowns at that, because Usopp had been the one in charge of decorating and he hadn’t come anywhere near Franky’s workroom, and Sanji had only insisted on him hanging mistletoe in the rooms most frequented by the girls. But, sure enough, there’s a sprig of mistletoe hanging above him, suspended in the air by a slender pale arm that grows from the ceiling, and Franky blinks and glances back at Robin and finds her suddenly incredibly close.
Her lips are quirked into a soft smile and they shimmer in the low lighting, and it’s everything Franky’s ever wanted and the most terrifying thing he’s ever faced as Robin presses her mouth against his.
It’s slow, gentle, almost chaste, and Robin’s eyebrow is raised when she pulls back to stare up at him. He can practically hear her counting down in her head, and he doesn’t care if he’s being played or being predictable. He wants her, she’s all he’s ever wanted, and his hands reach for her shoulders and she doesn’t resist as he pulls her closer, and he can imagine her internal countdown reaching ‘one’ the exact moment he crushes their lips together.
It’s rough and flashy and passionate, because Franky doesn’t know how to be any other way. Robin responds, more than responds, humming softly in a way that makes his lips tingle as her fingernails rake up his arms. She’s probably the only woman he’s ever kissed that didn’t make his back ache from leaning down, and he can’t understand why he ever wanted anyone else’s lips. Her tongue snakes forward, twisting around his own, pressing down over it, and heat rushes through him quickly enough to make the metal under his skin tingle and he needs more.
His arms wrap around her waist and she doesn’t resist as he pulls her closer. He can feel every place they touch like fire and ice, burning him, and he’s starting to get a little dizzy and a lot carried away, and his hands touch everywhere they can reach. Her dress is soft and warm, the fluffy white trim tickles his fingers, and her skin is as silky as he always knew it would be, and then one of her thighs slides between his own, rubbing high and fierce. The leather of her boot slides over her skin and Franky’s lips have to break away from hers so he can yelp, and he hasn’t heard himself make a noise like that since he was first dragged aboard the Sunny.
Robin smiles up at him, devious and delicious, and her leg keeps moving, friction and the tease of it, and Franky knows he’s probably gaping at her, and that he’s riding her thigh like a wanton teenager, and he couldn’t care less.
“We should get back soon,” Robin purrs, and Franky nods, although he’s never agreed with anything less in his whole life.
“Yeah, we… We should do… Something,” he stammers, and the leather is smooth against him and the edge of it catches him in just the right place. “This… You… This is…”
“Super?” Robin ventures with a playful grin, and Franky would laugh or nod emphatically if he weren’t choking on his own lust.
And then Robin steps back, and he wants to follow her, wants to follow her thigh and that boot, but it’s taking all his cyborg strength just to remain standing and not sink to the floor in a puddle of jelly.
Her smile turns sharp, and he can see something in her eyes, something that makes it clear she has no desire to stop. “I suggest we hurry,” she whispers, and he feels his mouth grow dry as two arms blossom from her shoulders, reaching behind her, and he hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered.
Her dress slides down her body, helped by hands that grow from her legs, easing the material down, thumbs hooking in the waistband of her panties as they move. Stripping everything away until it’s just Robin and those boots and her smile, and it takes every ounce of willpower that Franky possesses, the same willpower that kept him alive after being hit by a train, not to come in his swim trunks.
Robin raises one leg, bent at the knee, foot braced on the chair at his desk. Beautiful and exposed and inviting, one hand on her hip and her eyes have never looked darker.
“Like I said,” she says, voice husky. “I suggest we hurry.”
Franky doesn’t need telling twice, except he kind of did, but he thinks he can’t really be blamed for his distraction.
It’s a relief to sink to his knees in front of her, and he wastes little time, instinct and desire taking over. He leans forward, tasting her, tongue moving against her, and she sighs above him and idly pets his hair. She’s stunning, and he explores, seeks out every spot that makes her breath catch. His tongue pushes inside, and there’s music in his head, and he doesn’t recognise it but he mimics the beat and Robin makes a low and throaty noise as he finds the rhythm.
He allows himself to get swept up in it, in her passion, finding different ways to touch her that create different sounds, and he almost jumps out of his skin when hands sprout from the floor between his kneeling legs. They soothe up his thighs, quick to tug his swim trunks down, and he groans against her as a firm hand wraps around him and hears her voice echo around him. She squeezes at him, strokes at him in time to every ripple of his tongue, perfect symphony, panting breath and slick wet slide, and Franky’s so close.
He shivers, knelt between her legs, framed by black leather and stilettos, and he can’t resist running his hands over the boots. Fingers circling the heel, palm wrapping around her ankle, feeling the warmth even as his tongue curls inside her, and there’s multicoloured lights blinking across his vision, festive and blinding. Her hands move over him, a third joins them, multitude of fingers, ridges and palms, and he can’t hold on. Determined to take her with him, stubborn nature kicking in, and he kisses and licks at her, tempo increasing, humming against her in time with his heartbeat as it races beneath his chest, and her cry is the most glorious music he’s ever heard and he lets go. Thrusting into her grip, letting her wring at him, take everything he has, shuddering and feeling weaker than he ever has and stronger than he could ever be, and her hand at his forehead eases him away as Robin smiles down at him.
She’s flushed, light sheen of perspiration on her forehead, only the faintest sliver of blue visible in her bright eyes. He wants to touch more of her, all of her, and for a moment he’s content to let his eyes wander and he hears her laugh softly.
“We should be heading back to the party,” she whispers, but neither of them makes any attempt to dress. He kneels at her feet and she runs her fingers absentmindedly through his hair, and he wants to dance, to twirl her around the room, but his legs make it quite clear that they aren’t really up for that, so he rests his face against the leather of her boot. Feels the heat from her thigh seep through him, noticing the mistletoe lying abandoned on his desk, and he’s never really thought about just what a super plant it is.
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Franky/Robin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2552
Timeline: Post-Enies Lobby
Notes: For
50_smutlets, prompt "thigh highs". Summary: Those boots. Damn, those boots.
People often tell Franky to cover up. He wants to tell them that if Tom couldn’t get him to cover up, there’s no way in hell some self-important carpenter or punk-ass pirate could ever get him in trousers.
He doesn’t though. He’ll insult them, or shout, and sometimes he’ll perform one of his more super songs about why it’s great to run around half-naked, because he knows it pisses them off. Or he’ll punch them. Whatever.
The point is, Franky doesn’t care about what other people think of his dress sense, or lack of it.
He’d never once, in all his years, felt exposed.
Until he met Nico Robin.
There was something about her, about the way she moved, and that strength in her eyes, shining so brightly behind the tears. Something about the way that nearly every part of her had been covered except for that taunting little strip of thigh between her dress and her boots that made Franky shiver a little, and sweat a lot, and suddenly feel very very underdressed.
There’s not much hiding your body’s reaction when you’re only wearing tiny black swim trunks.
Then there’d been the battle and the screaming and the fighting, and then there’d been the Wanted poster and the nakedness, and then they’d all been nakama. And Franky had felt a little more comfortable around Robin, because there wasn’t much embarrassment left to be had when she’d already had a firm hold on his pride and joy, and he doesn’t like to really think about that. He tries not to think about that, because, damn, it had hurt and, damn, he hadn’t had a beautiful woman get quite such a firm grip on him in a long time, and he still regarded it as a wasted opportunity.
So he and Robin had settled into their new standing in the crew, with Franky being the new guy and Robin feeling much more secure in herself, and everything was great, super even, and they were friends. Robin had opened up to him, and he’d opened up to her, and they don’t really talk that much about it, but they feel the connection there all the same.
Franky’s content, and they’re all family, and Franky knows it’s a bad idea to harbour secret fantasies about family, no matter how much his libido might disagree.
And it’s definitely a family occasion, with decorations and a palm tree covered in baubles, because the last island they stopped at didn’t have firs, and Usopp singing carols. Franky enjoys the challenge of accompanying him on his guitar, because Usopp keeps deviating from the words and melodies to turn every song from being about goodwill and festivities to a tale of rip-roaring adventure about the many times he’d saved Christmas from angry sea kings and evil but beautiful snow queens.
Everyone’s made an effort. Nami’s wearing a low-cut red and green dress, the sexiest elf Santa never had, and Luffy’s whooping and practicing the dance moves Franky’s been secretly teaching him, tinsel wrapped around his neck, waist and torso like a glittering hyperactive boa constrictor. Sanji’s wearing an appropriately festive tie, and even Zoro’s wearing a Father Christmas hat, although that’s probably something to do with the way Chopper had stared up at him, eyes wide and smile expectant under the baubles swinging from his antlers, when Nami had first tossed the hat at Zoro’s face.
Robin, though, she’s something else.
It’s possible that Luffy buys his excuse, but he’s probably the only one. Everyone just kind of stares at him as he backs out of the door, carefully not looking at Robin as he manoeuvres around her, mumbling and really hoping he isn’t blushing. “I just have to go check on something, check ups, yeah, mechanical checks, engineering, routine but highly essential mechanical checks, alone, in my workshop, very complicated, very dangerous, no disturbances, emergency, requires intense concentration, I mean it, don’t anybody come down there, seriously!”
He’s sprinting down the corridor before anyone can object.
It’s quiet in his workshop, unnaturally so after the singing and cheering. Cold, too, the furnace having been shut off for the day, and he tugs at the collar of his festive shirt, fingers tracing over patterns of holly wreaths and Christmas puddings, and thinks that maybe he should have put on some trousers for once.
Not that it matters, because Franky knows he’d still feel exposed. There’s something about Robin that makes him feel so naked, and he shivers and slumps against the wall.
Christmas songs are supposed to be happy, but every tune he whistles to himself sounds miserable as he waits for the chill to take over and calm his body down.
It’s kind of cheating. She probably doesn’t know, except she maybe does, because she’s like that. Red dress, buttoned low, cut high, fluffy white trimming brushing over her thighs.
And those damn boots.
It really isn’t fair, because Enies Lobby was about fighting for his beliefs, and seeing others fight for theirs, and it was about a turning point in his life. It was about taking a step forward, even when he knew that he could never step back ever again, and it was about blood and honour and love, and it really pisses him off that he can’t think of any of that, because all he sees in his memories is that stretch of skin just under the hem of her dress, and those damn boots.
He’s flicking through the blueprints on his desk, desperate for distraction, when he hears the click of heels on the stairs outside. He knows there are only so many places to hide on a ship, even one as vast and intricate as the Sunny, but a quick glance around reminds him that he probably should have chosen a hiding place with more than one exit.
The door swings open before he can think to barricade it and he catches a glimpse of Robin’s passive smile and the slightly harder look in her eyes before his gaze slides down over curves and thigh high leather and away to the opposite wall.
“Sorry ‘bout leaving like that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly and resisting the urge to pose. “I had to … You know …”
“Yes, emergency routine mechanical checks, wasn’t it?” Robin asks, her voice carefully measured.
Franky smiles sheepishly, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “Ho ho ho?” he tries, and the air between them feels all wrong.
The look in her eyes doesn’t soften, only grows hollow, and Franky feels a sickening wave of guilt wash over him as, like the flick of a switch, he realises just how much he’s offended her. Robin’s a grown woman and one of the kindest and smartest people he’s ever met, and she can shrug off his erratic behaviour and has done since he boarded the Sunny. But his running from the room the second she walked in is a step too far, and he realises that she’s probably angry at him, and wonders why it took her so long to lose patience with him.
“Sorry,” he says again, a little louder, sure she’ll understand he means it.
“Everyone wants you back at the party,” she replies, and he knows she including herself in the statement. “Although it may be more convenient for everyone if we resolve this matter beforehand.”
“Resolve?” Franky asks, a little wary, wondering if that’s code for Robin smacking him in the head, although that sounds more like Nami’s forte.
“The tension,” Robin explains. That familiar lights seems to creep back into her eyes as she points to the ceiling. “A little mistletoe can go a long way.”
Franky frowns at that, because Usopp had been the one in charge of decorating and he hadn’t come anywhere near Franky’s workroom, and Sanji had only insisted on him hanging mistletoe in the rooms most frequented by the girls. But, sure enough, there’s a sprig of mistletoe hanging above him, suspended in the air by a slender pale arm that grows from the ceiling, and Franky blinks and glances back at Robin and finds her suddenly incredibly close.
Her lips are quirked into a soft smile and they shimmer in the low lighting, and it’s everything Franky’s ever wanted and the most terrifying thing he’s ever faced as Robin presses her mouth against his.
It’s slow, gentle, almost chaste, and Robin’s eyebrow is raised when she pulls back to stare up at him. He can practically hear her counting down in her head, and he doesn’t care if he’s being played or being predictable. He wants her, she’s all he’s ever wanted, and his hands reach for her shoulders and she doesn’t resist as he pulls her closer, and he can imagine her internal countdown reaching ‘one’ the exact moment he crushes their lips together.
It’s rough and flashy and passionate, because Franky doesn’t know how to be any other way. Robin responds, more than responds, humming softly in a way that makes his lips tingle as her fingernails rake up his arms. She’s probably the only woman he’s ever kissed that didn’t make his back ache from leaning down, and he can’t understand why he ever wanted anyone else’s lips. Her tongue snakes forward, twisting around his own, pressing down over it, and heat rushes through him quickly enough to make the metal under his skin tingle and he needs more.
His arms wrap around her waist and she doesn’t resist as he pulls her closer. He can feel every place they touch like fire and ice, burning him, and he’s starting to get a little dizzy and a lot carried away, and his hands touch everywhere they can reach. Her dress is soft and warm, the fluffy white trim tickles his fingers, and her skin is as silky as he always knew it would be, and then one of her thighs slides between his own, rubbing high and fierce. The leather of her boot slides over her skin and Franky’s lips have to break away from hers so he can yelp, and he hasn’t heard himself make a noise like that since he was first dragged aboard the Sunny.
Robin smiles up at him, devious and delicious, and her leg keeps moving, friction and the tease of it, and Franky knows he’s probably gaping at her, and that he’s riding her thigh like a wanton teenager, and he couldn’t care less.
“We should get back soon,” Robin purrs, and Franky nods, although he’s never agreed with anything less in his whole life.
“Yeah, we… We should do… Something,” he stammers, and the leather is smooth against him and the edge of it catches him in just the right place. “This… You… This is…”
“Super?” Robin ventures with a playful grin, and Franky would laugh or nod emphatically if he weren’t choking on his own lust.
And then Robin steps back, and he wants to follow her, wants to follow her thigh and that boot, but it’s taking all his cyborg strength just to remain standing and not sink to the floor in a puddle of jelly.
Her smile turns sharp, and he can see something in her eyes, something that makes it clear she has no desire to stop. “I suggest we hurry,” she whispers, and he feels his mouth grow dry as two arms blossom from her shoulders, reaching behind her, and he hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered.
Her dress slides down her body, helped by hands that grow from her legs, easing the material down, thumbs hooking in the waistband of her panties as they move. Stripping everything away until it’s just Robin and those boots and her smile, and it takes every ounce of willpower that Franky possesses, the same willpower that kept him alive after being hit by a train, not to come in his swim trunks.
Robin raises one leg, bent at the knee, foot braced on the chair at his desk. Beautiful and exposed and inviting, one hand on her hip and her eyes have never looked darker.
“Like I said,” she says, voice husky. “I suggest we hurry.”
Franky doesn’t need telling twice, except he kind of did, but he thinks he can’t really be blamed for his distraction.
It’s a relief to sink to his knees in front of her, and he wastes little time, instinct and desire taking over. He leans forward, tasting her, tongue moving against her, and she sighs above him and idly pets his hair. She’s stunning, and he explores, seeks out every spot that makes her breath catch. His tongue pushes inside, and there’s music in his head, and he doesn’t recognise it but he mimics the beat and Robin makes a low and throaty noise as he finds the rhythm.
He allows himself to get swept up in it, in her passion, finding different ways to touch her that create different sounds, and he almost jumps out of his skin when hands sprout from the floor between his kneeling legs. They soothe up his thighs, quick to tug his swim trunks down, and he groans against her as a firm hand wraps around him and hears her voice echo around him. She squeezes at him, strokes at him in time to every ripple of his tongue, perfect symphony, panting breath and slick wet slide, and Franky’s so close.
He shivers, knelt between her legs, framed by black leather and stilettos, and he can’t resist running his hands over the boots. Fingers circling the heel, palm wrapping around her ankle, feeling the warmth even as his tongue curls inside her, and there’s multicoloured lights blinking across his vision, festive and blinding. Her hands move over him, a third joins them, multitude of fingers, ridges and palms, and he can’t hold on. Determined to take her with him, stubborn nature kicking in, and he kisses and licks at her, tempo increasing, humming against her in time with his heartbeat as it races beneath his chest, and her cry is the most glorious music he’s ever heard and he lets go. Thrusting into her grip, letting her wring at him, take everything he has, shuddering and feeling weaker than he ever has and stronger than he could ever be, and her hand at his forehead eases him away as Robin smiles down at him.
She’s flushed, light sheen of perspiration on her forehead, only the faintest sliver of blue visible in her bright eyes. He wants to touch more of her, all of her, and for a moment he’s content to let his eyes wander and he hears her laugh softly.
“We should be heading back to the party,” she whispers, but neither of them makes any attempt to dress. He kneels at her feet and she runs her fingers absentmindedly through his hair, and he wants to dance, to twirl her around the room, but his legs make it quite clear that they aren’t really up for that, so he rests his face against the leather of her boot. Feels the heat from her thigh seep through him, noticing the mistletoe lying abandoned on his desk, and he’s never really thought about just what a super plant it is.
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Just..you.
One of the best gifts I could recieve today was one of your fine stories. I am so thankful for you. ^_^
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I almost feel ashamed for not peering into this pairing more until now XD; ... and you reminded me once more of how good-looking people who are taller than me make my knees weak. And if it's one of those two... sound the alarm XD
Best Christmas ever. Thank you so much, lady.
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*sighs*
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This just made my holidays ^__^
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I'd be lying if I said that these two in a pairing never occurred to me (I mean, hello, canon junk-grab) but I never foresaw how staggeringly sexy and... well, sweet they could be. Franky's fascination with Robin and her perfect understanding and then MAXX0R.
Cripes, Salmon, you make me like everything. ... HAX!!!
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Absolutely amazing. I am always weary about those two as a couple, but gaah you made it work like it was my favorite pairing.
I love you. :D
*hughug*
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To be honest, I can relate with Franky in that story since I have a big boot fetish myself. ^_^
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Btw, just to let you know that I sended you an invitation to my community a while back.
Hope your interested.
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....
......
Oh my god, Salmony.
Ohmygod.
I... hnnghh. This made me so happy.
The two of them are just so deliciously in character, and those fucking BOOTS. Argh.
.... this is beautiful. Is it selfish of me to demand more?
♥
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I still live in my world of perpetual one-shots, so this one won't be continued, but there'll definitely be more Franky/Robin in the future. ;)
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I would watch you on ff.net, but I'll just head over to your personal account because daaang man, I need to read anything you put out, for literacies sake.
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Hurrah for LJ seek. <3 This was awesomly hot. Catching up on One Piece so I could finally read Franky stuff was worth it in so very many ways.
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:D