One Piece One Shots

Oh [Kid x Reader] [AU]

Kid was still somewhat confused as to how he had ended up where he was. First of all, the protagonist of the next —acclaimed by the critics— best action movie based on the Viking Era; and second, madly in love with his co-star.

The later had come as a surprise even to him, if it was taken into account that he already could barely stand you before introductions were made.

He amazingly remembered most of what had happened that day. Most of it.

He had managed to make his way to his trailer with minimum eye-light contact thanks to the magic pair of sunglasses he had bought after the last time he decided to exchange his bodily fluids for alcohol. He was still partly drunk from the night before —in his defence, it had been Killer's idea; the blond being the one who had insisted when the redhead had seemed reluctant—, and partly hangover.

That had been followed by Nami, his pretty new and very loud manager, bursting in through the door and yelling at him for his aforementioned state for a considerable amount of time.

How had Nami got the position when Kid could barely hold himself back from choking her sometimes? He didn't know. Probably because he hadn't been able to afford anyone better at the time.

Anyhow, he had emerged from his trailer after another row of colourful expletives from the woman and a large cup of coffee she had reluctantly prepared while he forced himself out of his sofa. Then she had dragged him to the script reading, which was bound to be marvellous for his headache. 

There he had had to wait for you for like aeons.

It wasn't your fault —someone had told them the make-up team had got over excited with your hair and make-up test—, but in Kid's mind it had meant waiting and you were the common denominator in all the excuses that had flown over his head in that half empty conference room, so he blamed you anyway.

So that hadn't help, but neither that your previous background was in modelling. He had met enough dumb models in his lifetime to know they weren't made to be actresses, and he loathed the fact that they were cast merely because of their bodies.

Some talent wouldn't hurt, would it?

Overall, by the time he sat down on the white plastic chair appointed with his name, he had already formed a not-so-great impression of you in his mind. One that only worsened when your mess of blue-haired manager rushed in apologizing like her life depended on it —she was way too loud for his liking, and his headache—, and that didn't change even when you walked in with an axe hauled over your shoulder like it was a baby.

He was positively turned on, but still mad about the whole situation.

But then he had spent months training with or next to you, and rehearsing, and he had come to realize that you were more than just a model. Incredibly intelligent and funny —as much as he hated to admit it—, and strong, resilient... Had he been checking boxes, he would have run out of them, or ink.

And then filming had started, and a certain chemistry had developed between the two of you that had even Nami asking him if there was anything she should be aware of.