Baby Luffy And His Iconic Tee-shirt Collection

siblings ur honor!

i would trust him with my life

My Goal

Summary: Sanji's goal after finding the All Blue was you. Who knew you were harder than his main goal.

Song: House Of Balloons / Glass Table Girls by The Weeknd

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

In the sweltering kitchen of the Thousand Sunny, Sanji's eyes never failed to wander from the sizzling pans to the sultry sway of your hips as you navigated the cramped quarters with a grace that seemed to mock the chaos of a pirate ship.

His flirtations were as relentless as the sea, each one a tiny wave that crashed against the shore of your indifference. The first time he'd tried, you'd been chopping vegetables, your eyes focused solely on the task at hand.

He sailed in with a compliment, smoother than the whiskey he'd once pilfered from a Marines' ship.

"Your knife skills are sharper than my wit," he'd quipped, a rakish smile playing on his lips.

You, however, remained unfazed, not even bothering to look up from your cutting board. "And your wit is as dull as a marlin's," you replied, the blade of your knife glinting in the dim light as you sliced through a particularly tough piece of meat.

Sanji's smile had faltered, but only for a moment.

The second rejection came as you were both navigating the treacherous waters of a storm. Sanji had grabbed the ropes with a dramatic flair, muscles bulging beneath his wet shirt, and shouted to the heavens about his love for the sea and all its mysteries.

He'd glanced at you, expecting some form of admiration, perhaps even a blush to color your cheeks.

Instead, you'd rolled your eyes, your water manipulation devil fruit keeping you as dry as a bone, and said, "If you're going to be so dramatic, maybe you should join a theater troupe instead of a pirate crew."

He'd stumbled over his words, the rain beating a hasty retreat from his flustered face. Yet, his determination was as unyielding as the storm itself.

The third attempt was during a rare moment of respite on a tranquil island. As you lay on the beach, soaking in the sun, Sanji approached with a coconut drink, the straw adorned with a tiny paper parasol.

"For the most enchanting mermaid I've ever laid eyes on," he'd purred, leaning over you with a hopeful gaze.

With a sigh, you'd taken the drink, sipped it slowly, and said, "Thanks, but I prefer my beverages without a side of desperation."

His cheeks had reddened, but he hadn't moved, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air where the coconut had been.

The fourth rejection came as you both scaled the rigging to unfurl the sails. Sanji had tried to be suave, calling you "my lady of the sea," his voice carrying over the wind. You'd laughed, the sound as cool as the ocean breeze that whipped through your hair.

"Save it for someone who's actually impressed by your cheesy lines," you said, reaching for the rope with a deftness that belied your strength.

Each rejection was met with a different reaction from Sanji. Sometimes, he'd feign indifference, other times he'd laugh it off, and once he'd even pouted like a scolded child.

But the fifth time… ah, the fifth time was different.

It was as if the stars had aligned, the sea had whispered a secret into your ear, and you found yourself in a peculiar mood.

The sun had set, casting a warm glow on the ship's wooden deck. You'd been lost in thought, the gentle rocking of the waves lulling you into a sense of peace.

Sanji had approached you, his usual flirtatious grin replaced by a tentative smile.

"I know I've said this before," he began, his voice low and earnest, "but you truly are the most captivating person I've ever met."

For a moment, something in your chest fluttered like a trapped bird, and your eyes met his with a softness that surprised you both. The air between you thickened, charged with a tension that hadn't been there before.

And then, with a smirk that held a hint of mischief, you leaned in close and whispered, "Alright, you win this round, Prince."

And so, it was in that moment of unexpected surrender that Sanji's heart skipped a beat, his eyes widening with a mix of disbelief and excitement.

His hand, which had been resting casually on the railing, reached for yours, his fingertips brushing against your skin with the gentleness of a butterfly's wings.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, a sensation that was as foreign to you as the concept of mercy in a pirate's world.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cheek as he whispered, "I promise to make you feel like the most cherished treasure in all the Grand Line."

His words, though spoken softly, carried the weight of a thousand unsaid confessions and the promise of a passion that had been burning for eons.

You felt your resolve crumble like the sand beneath the relentless waves of his charm, and with a smoldering gaze, you allowed him to pull you into an embrace that was as fiery as the sunsets you'd seen together.

As your bodies melded together, the ship's timbers seemed to groan in approval, the very air around you crackling with the electricity of your newfound connection.

Sanji's hands roamed your curves with a reverence that spoke of his longing, each caress leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Your heart raced in your chest, pounding in time with the rhythm of the waves, and you found yourself responding to his advances with a fervor that shocked even you.

Your lips met in a kiss that was as deep and vast as the ocean itself, a silent declaration of the tumultuous emotions that had been brewing beneath the surface for so long.

The saltwater of the sea kissed your skin as the two of you tumbled onto the deck, the planks groaning beneath your weight as you gave in to the tempest of desire that had been building for what felt like an eternity.

Sanji's mouth traveled from your lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing the soft flesh there as he nipped and sucked, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands tangling in his hair as you sought to deepen the kiss.

The taste of him was like nothing you had ever experienced, a heady blend of sweat, sea salt, and a hint of the spices that were his culinary trademark.

Your bodies moved in a dance as ancient as the tides, each touch and caress a silent promise of what was to come. Sanji's hands slipped beneath your shirt, his calloused thumbs tracing the delicate line of your collarbone, sending shivers through your body.

Your own hands roamed his broad chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the steady thump of his heart, a drumbeat to the symphony of your growing need.

The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the tempest of passion that had been brewing for so long. The gentle rocking of the Thousand Sunny became the rhythm to which your bodies swayed, a metronome to the crescendo of your desire.

Sanji's kisses grew more insistent, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pulled away to gaze into your eyes, the hunger in his gaze mirroring the ache in your core.

With a groan that was as primal as the sea, he lifted you into his arms and carried you below deck, the urgency in his movements belying the tenderness of his touch.

The door to your cabin slammed shut, the sound echoing through the corridor, leaving no doubt as to the intention of the pirate chef. He laid you down on your bed, the soft mattress enveloping you like a gentle embrace from Neptune himself.

The scent of the ocean and the faint hint of his cologne filled the small space, mingling with the heady aroma of your own desire.

Sanji's kisses grew more demanding as he traced a path down your neck, his teeth and tongue leaving a trail of fire that ignited every nerve ending.

His hands, once so gentle, grew bolder, exploring the curves of your body with a hunger that seemed insatiable. You felt your own hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

As the fabric fell away, you gasped at the sight of his sculpted chest, the muscles rippling like the waves you both knew so well.

Your fingers danced over his abs, tracing the lines of his taut muscles as if mapping the treacherous waters of the Grand Line. He groaned, the sound vibrating through you, sending a wave of need crashing through your body.

His hands found their way to the ties of your pants, deftly untying the knots with the same skill he used to navigate the ship. As the fabric fell away, you were laid bare before him, vulnerable as a shipwrecked sailor adrift in a sea of passion.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his goal, his prize, finally within his grasp. He kissed you again, his tongue delving deep, mimicking the rhythm of the tides that pulled at the ship.

His hands moved with purpose, untying the strings of your bikini top, freeing your breasts to the coolness of the night air.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight, his eyes devouring you like a starving man before his mouth followed, his kisses a sweet agony that had you arching into him. . . . .

Cravings

Summary: Sanji has gone much too long without his favorite meal and he fears that it’s driving him insane. Once he finds himself fully alone with you, he takes full advantage of the moment.

Tags: Sanji x afab!reader, nsfw, established relationship, oral (female receiving), fingering, face riding, overstimulation, squirting

Word Count: 3.4k

There’s a hollow pit in Sanji’s stomach this morning and it sets him on edge. He woke up late, a dream of you keeping him asleep longer, one that was cut off too early to be satisfactory anyway. When he got up from bed, the cold air bit harder than usual, settling into his bones and it seemed nothing could warm him. His clothes did not hug his body the way they should have. The image of you sleeping in his bed, hair mussed and sheets rumpled, didn’t leave him warm and fond, but instead running hot and with a fierce ache. The taste that he desires most hasn’t been on his tongue in much too long and he’s afraid it may kill him.

He arrives to the kitchen late. His process is not as smooth as usual, he starts and stops again and again. His foot caught on the stairs on the way up, tripping in a way he never does. He had to pause at the top to take a moment, to relax the building tension in his body. As he searches for ingredients, he has to dig around for much longer. He scans the fridge again and again, his eyes not finding the sauce he wants. He moves bottles and containers around and still cannot find it. He slams the door shut, thinking to try again later. When he does, he finds it immediately. He lights his third cigarette of the morning by then. Everything is too loud, too much. The pots and pans clang and bash as he uses them. A spoon clatters to the counter as it slips from his fingers, another to the floor. He grits his teeth.

Brook was always silent when he came in. There was a routine here by now, a pot of tea waiting on the table for when he wandered in. He waits until Sanji has been in the kitchen for some time before he enters, so he must have noticed Sanji’s late start. This time, Sanji can feel his eyes—or whatever damn thing the skeleton saw with—boring into him. His neck prickles with Brook’s all too knowing gaze and so Sanji waits.

It must have been after his first cup that Brook decides to venture a question. “Has something bothered you at all this morning, Sanji?”

Sanji twitches at his voice even though he had been anticipating it, and grunts. “Nothings bothering me.”

He wonders if he sounds too gruff. Does he grunt like that when he feels fine? He’s sure he does, but does it sound exactly like the way it did just now? Was his answer rude? He asks himself these things even though he can’t do anything about it. He can’t admit to what’s bothering him anyway, isn’t sure what he can do about it either.

The thing is, the past few weeks have been perfect. They ran into some marines, yes, but they’d won and no one had been injured. The last island didn’t bring any issues. The stock has been well kept, Luffy’s grubby finger successfully and consistently kept at bay. They could relax. But that didn’t mean they weren’t busy, or that their ship life meant they had all too much alone time.

It meant that Sanji couldn’t lavish you in the way he wanted. When you could be intimate, it had to be quick. Any time spent with you is time spent in heaven, so he cannot really complain, he still enjoys it immensely. However, it does also mean that you want him as close to you as possible. That you want him inside you as fast as you can. And your love for his mouth on yours means you don’t want to break away to breathe for even a moment. He loves this, he loves this, but it leaves him without having his favorite meal between your legs, and that’s what has got him so irate this morning. To go so long without the taste of your pussy on his tongue might be the thing that drives him insane. He’s considered stealing a pair of your panties to stuff his mouth with while he cooks. It wouldn’t be enough, but it’d be something to tamper the need.

His thoughts turn vile, leachurous, nasty. Thoughts he is always too afraid to say aloud to you. He wonders if you know how good you taste. He thinks of you alone in your shared room, your fingers dipping into your wet cunt and collecting the slick there. Bringing them to your mouth and sucking on your fingers. Fingering and collecting and tasting again and again. He grips the counter and pictures himself showing you how delicious it is. His fingers dipping in and your tongue swirling around his digits, watching your cheeks redden as he describes to you how it feels to drag his tongue through your folds, to shove it in your hole—

The door to the kitchen slams open, followed by confident footsteps, a stride so sure of itself. Zoro. All brashness, he comes in, heading straight for a bottle of sake. Not even a good morning, not even a oi, shit cook. Just coming in to raid his supplies, ruining the perfect fantasy he had going. Sanji starts in on him immediately, legs flying.

The fight doesn’t last long. Sanji’s too focused on getting him out, and Zoro’s too baffled on what the fuck he possibly could’ve done this time to really put much effort into staying.

It isn’t too long until you catch wind of Sanji’s foul mood. Zoro goes storming by, grumbling about some idiot shit cook. As you watch him pass, Brook comes up on your other side. He’s silent as he finds his place next to you, watchful. It’s clear to you he has something on his mind, and you think it may have to do with Zoro’s attitude. You look up at Brook, inviting him to speak.

“Do you know what’s bothering Sanji?” he asks.

You raise your eyebrows and glance in the direction Zoro has just gone, but he shakes his head. “It started before that.”

You frown. “Oh, well, no. I’ll go see what I can find out.”

Brook nods and pats your head as you walk past, perhaps as a way of saying good luck, or maybe thanking you.

When you walk in, Sanji knows it’s you by your soft footsteps. He can pick you out by any sound you make. He knows you by your scent and by the smallest flash of you across his sight. He could be deprived of all his senses and yet he could still pick you out, still know it’s you.

He pauses before he turns, taking in his progress. It’s close enough to done, close enough to breakfast. All he really would have to do is keep most of it warm. His fingers twitch as he thinks of this, as he does the math in his head. I can, I can.

Some mornings, the crew comes in still wearing their pajamas. It depends on the day and the mood of the person as to whether they’ll come to breakfast dressed and ready for the day. For you, the morning has been a lazy one, and you walk in wearing one of his t-shirts with a pair of shorts hidden beneath. Your hair is still a little messy from your pillow. The sight has his cock throbbing.

Before you can fully open your mouth, fully form your question, he’s across the room in a handful of strides. His mouth is on yours immediately, heated and desperate, and he starts dragging you back to the pantry.

“You must forgive me,” he murmurs. “Forgive me for my crassness, forgive me…”

“Sanji?” you ask him, confused and concerned.

Brook and Zoro will be warning everyone off by now. They’ll know you’ve come in to do some sort of damage control, and won’t come in themselves until you give them the all clear. You both have time.

You’re in the pantry, door almost slammed shut so he can push you against it. Sanji drops to his knees and the impact of bone on wood makes your stomach churn.

“Sanji—”

“You must understand,” he cuts you off. “You must understand just how much I need this. I’m sorry but I… I need it.” The last part comes out high pitched as he gets your bottoms off, removed at an impressive speed.

He doesn’t waste anymore time. He latches onto you as he hitches your leg over his shoulder. The moan he lets out is sinful, the shiver that wracks his body almost terrifying. He’s like a dog, the way he immediately starts lapping into you, the way his hips buck as he humps air. Sanji knew he had an affliction, one revolving around you, and could only be solved by you. He knew he was a desperate man, but he did not know just how bad it was.

You give up on trying to get anything more out of him. For one, it’s clear he’s not going to answer you. Two, it’s difficult for you to form words, to form a single coherent thought. He knows you so well that he already has you moaning, arching off the door, and sliding your fingers through his hair.

It’s perfect. It’s exactly what he has been wanting. But some greedy part of himself, one that he tries to keep tucked away, tears its way through, and he feels that it’s still not enough. He adds his fingers, reaching two in to hit that spongy spot that has you keening, because he needs you coming in his mouth now. He needs you tugging on his hair and grinding down onto his tongue right this second.

You give him just that. The way he pumps his fingers so mercilessly into you, the way he sucks on your clit and flicks his tongue, the way he’s so uncharacteristically aggressive with you, has your hips bucking on his face. When he wants you, he’ll ask so sweetly, sliding his hands all over to convince you. He’ll ease you into it or simply beg, face buried in your shoulder. You have to take the final step and say yes. But right now he was just taking, and it made your head swim. He throws you into your orgasm and your legs shake with the force of it.

It’s wet and it’s messy and it has him shivering with delight. And all he wants is more.

He maneuvers you onto the floor so that he can shove his face into you harder. He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath, he simply keeps licking his way into you. He’s eating so much sloppier, making out with his delicious treat.

There’s an ache in his teeth that he’s unfamiliar with, an urgency in his jaw. It feels similar to when he feels the urge to snap, to dig into someone. His mood swings are constant, a thing everyone is used to, but it’s not a feeling he ever feels towards you. His mouth, as never before, just wants to bite.

You can feel his teeth grazing, wanting to sink into flesh, but never doing so. The sensation makes you shiver. You’ve prompted marking each other before, something he’s glad to let you do, but he can’t bring himself to do it in return. He’s slowly loosening to the idea of hickeys, as they don’t hurt as they’re given. The bruising still bothers him. But biting, he’d always been firmly against biting.

He, as always, never wants to harm, never you, and now he wonders why he tortures himself so. To put his teeth so close but never sink them in. He thinks it may be the yearning, that he always has to have something to ache for, but knows he’ll never receive. Something about what he does and does not deserve. Something about deserving suffering, perhaps. Or maybe he does have a part of himself that likes to toy, to tease.

You’re so sensitive from your first that it doesn’t take him all too long to get you to your second. Your back arches off the floor, the zaps of pleasure running through your spine and all the way down to your toes. The throbbing of your cunt spurs him on and still he does not let up, does not give you a moment to recover. You pull on his hair and wriggle your hips, trying to get him to at least slow down.

“Sanji,” you whine. “‘S too much, too good, I can’t. Please?”

Just taking the short moment to pull back and answer you makes him want to cry. He can’t handle the short distance between him and your pussy. You feel his breath tickle you as he speaks. “Oh, but my sweetheart, please. Don’t you know how good you taste? It just drives me wild. And you’re doing so good for me, squeezing my head and clenching,” his voice hiccups and stutters on the word, “around my fingers… yeah. Yeah, my baby, you can give me more, can’t you? I know you can…”

He dives back in after trailing off, your pussy pulling him back into a trance. The teary look in his eye and desperation to his voice makes it impossible to tell him no. You let out a whimper but say, “Okay...”

He coaxes another out of you, all tongue and fingers and spit. You buck and spasm so hard, legs kicking out, that he has to put in more effort to hold you down, making sure you don’t hurt yourself. And yet he is just not satiated. He never truly is, really, but usually he’d be… calmed by now. Some out of place thing inside of him would be put back. His mind a little clearer. A sense of purpose, a job well done, a need fulfilled. But he feels as jittery and needy as ever.

“Just… just a little more, my love,” he tells you, and starts to move you again.

You can do little else but allow him to do as he pleases, and soon your pussy is hovering over his face.

“Your full weight, baby,” he murmurs, running his hands up and down your thighs, rubbing your hips. “Don’t think, don’t worry about a thing, just sit and feel good.”

You mewl out his name again as he pulls you down. Your thighs give out, unable to hold you, and it causes him to moan in delight. You’re always too worried, too self conscious, to ever fully press down on him. To have you too weak, too fucked out, to hold yourself up was delightful.

Ravenous. Depraved. Deprived. His mouth aches, his tongue and jaw tired, but it doesn’t matter. He feels you start to rock your hips and he groans, but suddenly you yelp and stop. The added movement was too much, overstimulating, and you couldn’t keep it up. Sanji wanted it, though, needed it, and began to grind your hips for you. You cried out, babbling about too good, too much, all over again, with his name in the mix, and you try to crawl away from him.

Good god, what was happening? You’ve never had to crawl from Sanji before. He would overstimulate you at times, so eager and needy for more, more, more that he’d keep going, begging you to let him. But if it was just too much, he’d relent. Kissing and apologizing and thanking you.

He wasn’t listening now, though, and he didn’t let you move. He’s got an iron grip on you, the hardest his hands have held you. The moment he feels you try to move away, his heart twists in panic. He feels like something precious is being taken from him. You're his, your pussy is his, and he couldn’t handle it being taken before he’s done, taken from him ever.

He feels pissed each time he has to stop to breathe, too. He can’t believe his body thinks he still needs air. Why the fuck would he want air right now? His real form of substance is already sitting on his face. It’s a waste of goddamn time to breathe. He was a man built for servitude, pleasure. Breathing currently interrupted that, so why would his body request it?

Above him, you’re barely holding on. You’re on your forearms, panting and moaning and trembling. You can’t form any more words, the babbling having ended a bit ago. All you can do is whisper his name, your throat barely able to say it, and simply keen. You snake a hand down, so shaky the whole way through, and tangle your fingers in his hair. Maybe if you give him this last one, he’ll let you go. You wonder if you’d really want him to. It makes your stomach flip and your pussy pulse to think of him forcing more orgasms out of you.

He’s just as noisy, as he always is, as he has been the whole time. Making slurping noises so lewd it makes your skin burn. A few more guided movements of your hips and your coming again, but this time you’re squirting, gushing all over his face.

This, this, is paradise. Sanji’s cock, neglected and aching and leaking, shoots hot ropes in his pants; a wet and hot mixture soaking through the fabric. His hips buck from just how strong his own orgasm is, his back arching as much as it can. You’re creaming all over his face, from his ministrations, from his love. And oh, how you sing for him. He couldn’t think of a better way to fix his mood, a better thing to cum to.

You collapse, falling to the side and laying there, taking deep, stuttering breaths. Sanji doesn’t move, he keeps his head tucked between your legs, and simply twists to lay on his side as well. He doesn’t continue to eat you out, however, finally relenting and letting you both calm down and find yourselves.

He does take the time to stare at your pussy, though, enjoying the sight. All puffy and swollen and wet; you just look so pretty. He wonders if you’d let him sleep like this at night, so close to a most precious part of you. He likes breathing in the scent of you, watching the way you flutter and clench from him just looking. Your thighs keeping him so warm and cosy. Yeah, he could easily fall asleep like that. He gives you feather light kisses up and down your slit, trying not to push you any more, but you’re so sensitive that you twitch and jolt anyway.

When he’s had his fill—which is to say he hasn’t, he just misses your face terribly—he comes crawling out to hold you. He finds himself equally concerned and bashful. He can’t believe how… demanding he’d been.

“How do you feel, my love?” he asks, sheepish. He pulls you close, squeezing and rubbing at your body, switching between legs and hips and arms.

You hum, and softly answer, “Tired… but good.” You know that what he’s asking for is if he took it too far, did anything wrong. “You always make me feel good.”

“I’m… I’m sorry I—”

“So, so, sooooo good,” you cut him off. For him to crave you so madly that he just has to corner you and pin you down so that he could fuck you with his tongue? How could you not be flattered?

You lift your head to look at him, and his face is dripping. Your slick is smeared all over, his upper lip a mixture of your cum and blood from his nose. His face is flushed from both pleasure and his shyness. He chews his bottom lip, meek from your attention on the mess he’s made.

You giggle. “We need to clean up.”

Sanji grins a little at this. “I don’t know, I quite enjoy my face being covered like this. I might just stay like this all day.”

You stick your tongue out and scrunch your nose. “Gross.”

He smiles wider. “No, my love, this is what bliss looks like.”

“Dork,” you snort.

You both stay like that a little while longer, enjoying each other’s warmth and presence. Breakfast could wait just a moment longer.

❄snow angel - sanji x reader❄

❄ day 1 - first snow, getting soaked, “your hands are so cold”  ❄ fandom/character(s) - one piece - sanji x reader ❄ warnings - fluff, no beta reader, use of terms like “princess” otherwise mostly gender neutral, no ending ❄ word count: 2.4k

this is the first day of the @12daysofchristmas challenge. this rushed asf and not edited. sorry no ending lmao, i had an ending in mind but If i stared at this any longer i was gonna bang my head against my keyboard :) tomorrow's zoro, so stay tuned! check out here to read more

The Sunny rocked in the gentle evening breeze, the sun retreated behind the horizon. Purple and orange hues stretched across the galley. A book laid heavy in your lap as you relaxed with the remnants of the crew after dinner. You had means to finish a chapter before you wound down. But, the rare, sweet peace made your body feel like lead. The soothing song of clinking dishes, muffled snoring, and soft scribbling filled the space with a cozy air. Since you joined the merry-band of pirates, you quickly learned that times of silence were few and far between. You wouldn’t dare disturb it. 

Nami hunched over her logbook next to you, charting a map with fervor. On the other side, Luffy rested on your shoulder. Food crumbs were scattered across his drooling mouth as he slept. Across the way, Sanji hummed a soft tune as he flitted around the room. The song pulled you in and with each note, you found yourself lost in thought, rereading the same words over again. 

From the corner of your eye, you felt the cook’s lingering gaze on you. Not that it bothered you; it gave you another reason to abandon your book. You both were playing a silent game 一 a game you had been playing for weeks. A game he was failing miserably at. 

Your eyes lock again for a moment, the darkened cerulean meeting yours with uncertain curiosity. 

You raised a playful brow, letting your eyes wander. His neck and jaw tightened, a splatter of red rising to his ears as his adam’s apple wavered in his throat. His tune faltered, and he quickly glanced away, fumbling with the cutlery he had in hand. You feel a chill run down your spine, trying to quell the trail of goosebumps on your arm. 

Nami let out a groan, looking at the porthole behind you. The wind rattled against the glass, and Luffy stirred, pressing closer to you for warmth.

"We're getting close to a winter island,” she announced, tapping her pen to the journal. "Expect snow in the morning."

 “Snow?” you felt your heart flip in your chest, excitement rising in your voice. “Like a lot of it?”

“...That’s right,” Nami smiled, pushing her glasses up the brim of her nose. “Should’ve remembered snow isn’t common for you.”

“Does frosted grass count?” you offer sheepishly.

Sanji chuckle grabbed your attention as he approached with a folded blanket tucked beneath his arm.

 “Here, you’ll be needing this, then,” He hands the soft fleece to you and you reach out, gentle fingers brushing yours. It was a quick, unassuming exchange. You stare at the crisp white linen of his shirt ruffled at the cuff, straining under his toned arm. 

 “I would hate to see you catch a chill,” He looks up at the ceiling, avoiding your eyes. He cleared his throat and whipped around, busying himself again. You mumble a weak ‘thank you’, ignoring how your fingers still burn from the feathered touch. You shimmy the warm fleece over you and Luffy’s shoulder. It smelled like smoked tobacco and vanilla extract, and you pushed the urge down to bury your nose in the fabric.

He turned to an unimpressed Nami. “Guessing soup or stew for tomorrow?” 

“Soup?” Your insatiable Captain groans in his sleep, a dazed smile playing on his drooling lips. 

Nami scoffed, rolling her eyes. A pen flies through the air and hits Luffy square between the eyes.

“Ow..! What was that for?” He croaked blearily,  rubbing his head.

“All you ever think about is food, I bet you were dreaming about it too.” She chides, closing her journal with a soft thud, collecting her things. “Come on, time for bed. Tell the others about the snow.”

“It’s snowing?!” Luffy boomed, soaring up, wide-eyed with joy. The blanket fell off your once-taken shoulder.

“Not now, later.” Nami re-iterated with annoyance. “Come on,”

“Night, you two,” “G’Night guys!”

And with that, the galleyway soon was draped in another tranquil silence. With how cold the temperature was dropping, you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was snowing right now. You pull the blanket towards you closer, brain racing with the promises of a new experience tomorrow. You had joined the straw hats out of desperation for adventure, to see the world for more than what your tropical island could offer. Now, it felt like it was finally paying off.

“Excited?” Sanji’s voice jerked you out of your thoughts. You look up, watching him polish spoons like second nature, blonde hair falling like golden silk in front of his eyes. 

“Uh- yeah, ” You mumbled into the fleece, burying yourself further. “I guess you say that,”

“Come on,” He throws the towel over his shoulder, voice low and teasing, “ indulge me, sweetheart.” 

Ignoring the way your stomach flips at the deep rumble of his voice, you give in. 

“I dunno, it’s just,” You admit, shifting in your seat, “There’s only so much reading you can do before you wonder what it would be, ya’know?” You stare down at the forgotten book, closing it and placing it on the table.

“I think I get what you mean,” The tenderness in his voice caught you off guard as he continued. “-beauty like that you can only witness in person, no words would do it justice,” When you meet his kind gaze again, your mind goes blank, and you have to remember how to breathe.

“S-so true,” You cleared your throat, mouth impossibly dry. “Well, u-uh, let me get ready for bed, I want to be the first one up!” You jumped up, the blanket forgotten on the bench as the pen in your lap clattered to the ground. You scuttled quickly out the galley way with a rushed ‘good night!’, leaving Sanji as the last one standing. 

Sanji blinked, and sighed, staring at the door where you had left. His shoulders drooped low at the brief, sweet moment. He fished in his pocket for a cigarette, shaking his head.  He lit the cigarette and watched hot smoke curl in the cool air. He lets his mind wander to the promise of tomorrow, the promise of seeing you again. 

“Goodnight, Princess.” He murmured out to the empty room. 

-

That chilly night you tossed and turned. Even as your body thrummed with hot adrenaline, you shivered. As much as you tried to bundle yourself deeper into your blankets, the cold seeped into your bones. Your nose and cheeks burned from the chill. You stared out the porthole, watching the clear black of night until you drifted off to sleep.

-

You wake up with a start. Bright white light shines in, and you look over at the others, who are still fast asleep. Nami’s soft snores and Robin’s even breathing are muffled by their blankets. You slowly peel the covers away, hissing at the cold that bites your skin. Excited breaths plume in the air like smoke, as you tip-toe slowly out the room. Opening the door, the sight blows you away, air escaping your lungs. You didn’t think it would be this magnificent. Soft snow covered the tops of everything in a thick layer of bright white made you squint. The rising sun shot gorgeous rays of yellow across the falling snow, sparkling in the morning light. 

An icy blast of cool wet air brushes past your legs and feet, and you quickly shut the door to not disturb the women sleeping. Your barren feet take their first steps onto the deck, and you barely can contain your excitement with each skip you take down towards mens quarters, you couldn’t be the only person to witness this. Thinking back to your conversation with Sanji last night, heat fills your body even as your toes begin to turn numb.

 Fresh footprints lead you to the door, and you quickly slip inside. enveloped in a loud chorus of groans and snores. You scan the room as your feet heat up on the solid wood. You tiptoed over Zoro and Chopper who huddled for warmth. Past Usopp and Luffy’s hammock, you looked for a tuft of blonde hair with no luck. You cursed under your breath. He must be up already, you thought. You turn behind, looking at your sleeping Captain. 

Guess he would do. You poke at his cheek softly.

“Pstt.. Luffy..” He groaned, swatting your finger away and turned over. You shake him this time, watching his head jostle around. “wake up, it's snowing, come o-” 

“SNOW?!” His eyes shoot open, screaming at the top of his lungs. The rest of the cabin jumped up with a bewildered confusion. Before you could apologize, Luffy was grabbing Usopp by the nose and you by the wrist, pulling you out onto the deck.

-

You screamed as you skipped around the deck. The snow crunched under your feet, the frigid air biting your exposed skin as soaked in the new sensation. You squeal as you flounce around,the fresh snow upturned by each step.  

-

Sanji watched from the doorway curiously, and he couldn’t help the cheesy smile stretching his face. God, you were gorgeous like this, He thought. He watched you play in the snow with wonderment, Luffy and Usopp’s cheers muffled in the background. How could he deny himself with the pleasure of watching you? You were like a dream, something he was convinced he conjured in his brain to torture himself with. 

All night, he was awake, picturing your first moments in the winter, how you would glow against the snow. How the snowflakes would fall on your eyelashes, begging him to swipe them away.  He imagined would be able to provide you with warmth after a day of reliving your childhood anyway you needed him to, if you willed it. These thoughts plagued him well into the night, till the sun threatened to peek over the horizon as he watched out the port hole as it began to fog over with frost, too late into the morning to fall asleep. He rubbed his tired eyes, the sight of you absolutely vibrant with joy fueling his exhausted and needy heart. 

Even with his answered prayers, he couldn’t help but worry about your lack of clothes. Where the hell were your coat and shoes? He worried on his bottom lip, glancing at the ice bitten soles of your feet, trying to keep his eyes away from the way your shirt rode up with every leap forward.

 Had he been careless? He felt responsible for your lack of winter preparedness. His brows furled in worry as he watched you slip onto your back. 

His stomach dropped. He vaulted over the railing, dress shoes sinking into the frigid snow. With each determined flounce towards you, his socks became sodden with cold water.

 “You alright, gorgeous? Where’s your coat and shoes?” He flits above you nervously, his shallow breaths fogging in the crisp winter air. 

“You’ll freeze solid in this weathe-” He was cut off by your floaty laughter, his heart seized and banged rapidly against his ribs. 

“This is so much fun,” You laughed, arms outstretched as you made snow angels below him, beaming with happiness. “Join me Sanji!”

His brain was short-circuiting as he stood there with his mouth agape. Everything in his body wanted to get him into the snow next to you, to bury his hands into your side and roll around in the fluff, but looking at your bright red palms made him stop.

 “No, We need to get ready first, up you go,” He holds out a hand, and you whine in protest, but begrudgingly take his hand. He hisses at the soft cold hand, clasping it gently as he pulls you up. 

“Your hands are so cold...” He murmured. Without thought, he rubs your fingers softly in his hand, his curly eyebrows furrowing. A chill runs through your spine, but you feel like you're sweating at the soft touch. 

He slowly brings life back into your fingers as you stare in silence.His other hand catches yours and he cupped them gently, bringing them to his chapped, pink lips. They form into a soft ‘o’ as he exhales balmy, heavy breaths into your trembling fingers. Even with the winter that surrounded you, you were going to melt into the deck of the Sunny if he continued. You squeeze your eyes shut and look away. It was all too much. 

You squirm under the touch, but don’t pull away. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes I do,” He shakes his head, cheeks dusting pink, “Wouldn’t want any of these pretty fingers to freeze and fall off, right?” You don’t respond, staring at your feet. He always had a way with words that left you speechless. His gaze follows your, smacking his teeth. 

“You’re killing me,” He sighed, before dropping your hands, “Up you go,” With a swift movement, your frozen feet are swept off the ground. You let out a small noise of protest, but quickly wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“But the others-” 

“-Are complete idiots. You can come back out here later when you have appropriate winter clothes.” He made quick, determined strides towards the galley door swinging it open. Sweltering heat embraced you as he placed you on the bench, the smell of tomato and garlic wafting in the air. 

“Let's warm up and dry off first. I’ll make you hot chocolate, too.” He rambled, clasping his hands together as he scanned the room, “Or would you rather have cider? You think on that,  I’ll be back in one minute, my little snow angel.”

As quick as he leaves, he’s back again, shutting the frigid air out. “I brought a towel, a change of clothes, and a spare coat. Nami picked them out, don’t worry, I didn’t want-” 

“Someone’s mothering me right now,” You finally cut him off.

You watch his windburned face twist in embarrassment. “Someone has to, don't they?”

“And that someone should be you?” You tease with no bite in your words, but shift uncomfortably in your seat. The more you warmed up, the more you were hyperaware how your soaked t-shirt clung to your back, dripping onto your legs. 

You weren’t the only one who had notice, when a towel was shoved quickly in front of your face. Sanji’s eyes glued to the ceiling. You take it, wiping and patting yourself dry from the melted snow. 

what a weird way to end a fic ik i suck for it, but I got pretty uninspired there at the end. I have so many ideas but I suck at the romance sometimes. I used to rp a lot eons ago when I was a teenager and am just really trying to gain confidence in my writing again after that trauma, iykyk LMAO

I dunno if i’ll come back to edit this or finish my idea. Let me know if you liked it though!

wanna read more? check out my other fics (x)

My man

subscribing to a fic isn’t enough I need the author to blast a bat signal into the night sky whenever they update

little saunter.mp4