"...Sanji?" Is your only reply to his—quite delightful, in his opinion—self-introduction.
One delicate little brow raised, mouth downturned in a suspicious frown. One didn't have to wonder if you'd been impressed by his flourishing greeting. Clearly you hadn't. And while he'd much rather take in the captivating beauty that was your sure-to-be radiant smile, he couldn't deny you were yet still a vision as you gazed upon the cook with distrust and distaste. Even the pistol you aimed at his head, finger on the trigger ready to pull at any inkling of him having ill-intentions, did nothing to dissuade his enamor.
He couldn't quite blame the initial hostile reaction. He was, after all, an experienced pirate with a not-insignificant bounty on his head. This small, quiet island in the New World was quite idyllic, and clearly you would defend it to your very last breath, if need be. The fire in your eyes, smoldering in the face of possible danger, captivated him.
Alas, Sanji hadn't quite considered the price on his head as a hinder in his pursuit of love, but perhaps his enthusiasm and excitement for being wanted by the Marines had been premature after all.
Not letting the less-than-stellar first meeting deter him, he's quick to assure you that he was not here for your life or valuables; staples of any pirate's wayward desire. Rather, his unending curiosity of exotic cuisine and a scent-enticed nose was what brought him to your fine establishment. The smell of something savory-yet-sweet had drawn him in like a dying man to water. Something so wonderful had to taste divine, and his recipe-driven mind couldn't resist the knowledge.
It took some convincing to finally get you to lower the weapon from his face. Sanji couldn't claim credit for disarming you—an older man the cook came to learn was your father had laid a calming hand on your arm, muttering about causing a scene in front of the other customers. Your clear, intelligent eyes had glanced past the pirate at the rest of the dining space, realizing that you were indeed the center of focus for the entire restaurant, then scoffed as you pulled the pistol away.
And while you'd returned to the back of the restaurant, hidden from sight, Sanji couldn't erase the image of you from his head. Even as he tried convincing the owner to impart upon him the secrets of his dishes, his mind's eye played visions of the defiance and confidence in your expression.
"Sanji." You nod slowly, face impartial, revealing nothing of what you may be feeling underneath your calm exterior.
The deck of the Thousand Sunny was filled with excited shouts of joy from the various pirates that welcomed you to the crew, each formally introducing themselves now that you'd set foot on the ship that you'd call home for the next chapter of your life. Sanji, of course, was one of them, fondly declaring that he was at your beck and call. Anything for such a lovely lady such as yourself, with eyes like fire and the will to follow your foolhardy dream.
Chopper and Usopp, of course, were amongst the loudest and most enthused to have a new member aboard, with more muted though no less positive reactions from Jinbe, Robin, and Zoro.
The cook was already well-acquainted with you, having been the main reason you had joined the crew at all. A few words to his captain about the strange and interesting woman he'd encountered in the sleepy little island's restaurant had Luffy determined to bring you along on this adventure. It had simply been a matter of time before you'd accepted the invitation to go sailing, coupled with the extra motivation needed when your father had rather brusquely shoved you out the door to 'finally go after what you've wanted all this damn time, girl.'
It was easy to spot the telltale signs of discomfort as you stood upon the ship's deck, accepting everyone's welcomes with a polite—if strained—smile. As Sanji well knew, it would take time to adjust to life on the seas. Finding how you fit alongside the others, familiarizing yourself with the rhythm and routine of a group of people already established, and many other things.
When you'd caught his eye, he couldn't tell the sort of expression you gave him; regret, relief, or perhaps apprehension? For all he knew, you could be silently thanking him for making this opportunity open for you. Or, alternatively, loathe the fact that you'd ever agreed to go with the motley pirate crew. All you did was blink in his direction, contemplating his presence for a moment, before moving on to the next crew member.
In time, he'd surely learn if you saw this decision as a blessing or a curse.
"San-ji." You quip in amusement, a flick of your finger to his forehead a gentle sign of your teasing.
The touch stings gently for only a brief moment, and he grins as he reaches up to cover the spot you'd just hit. The little quirk of your mouth as he handed you the afternoon drink you'd not asked for had his heart beating just that little bit faster.
How many times did you tell him that you'd ask if you needed something? Ah, but how could he not provide all you might desire on a whim? Sanji just couldn't imagine not surprising you with your favorite treats, or a refreshing glass of lemonade on a hot day at sea. Sure, he received more than one exasperated sigh when he set these little gifts before you, but the little smile you'd present him after was all worth the effort.
Another exclamation of his unending love for you is all he replies with before leaving you in peace on your deck chair. The sun was out, bathing you in bright light. There was no greater sight than to see you relaxed and happy amongst the other members of the crew. If Sanji died and never made it to that fabled heaven, well, he'd had a slice of it while alive here with you in his midst, didn't he?
"Sanji!" Anger rolled off of your shoulders in waves, teeth set hard as you glared daggers at the cook.
Panting and bloodied, you shook with rage when the blonde straightened up from the kick he'd sent your opponent's way. The opponent who, Sanji pointed out calmly in the face of your anger, had been moments away from skewering you with a nasty-looking harpoon spear. Instinct had propelled him forward with a swift and devastating kick to the man who'd nearly pierced your beautiful skin.
He couldn't understand the cause of your ire. Was he supposed to simply sit back and watch you get hurt?
The cook was struck speechless when, despite his valiant assistance, you'd turned and punched him in the face with a frustrated growl. The shock had him stumbling back a step or two, his hand reaching up to touch the spot you'd struck, though the force behind the blow wasn't enough to send him to the ground. He'd faced many an injury worse.
Unshed tears brimmed just behind your wide and scorching eyes as you shouted how the battle had not been his to interfere with. How dare he step in to save you when you hadn't needed saving? You were no damsel. You were not weak. Who was he, to take away your agency, your burdens, your responsibilities, when you hadn't asked it of him? You were not his to have, to control, and to be responsible for.
You yelled until you were red in the face, months of his 'gentlemanly' interference to anything that may be inconvenient to you finally breaking free. All the little things, piled up atop your patience. He stared, struggling to comprehend where he'd gone wrong, turning over your words in a guilty haste. They clashed in dissonance with the dogma of chivalry that he'd lived by all his life.
Perhaps he just didn't understand you at all.
With most of your anger unleashed in your verbal tirade, you stood and shook in the aftermath of both battle and argument. And those eyes...Sanji couldn't look away from the hurt and betrayal that gazed back at him. It struck him like a knife deep in his chest, to have you look that way at him. To know he'd caused such strife, to fracture the friendship and trust that he'd spent months creating with you...
All he could do to stand there as you rushed away in the midst of the battle, still hearing your cries of rage in his head as if the echoes of ghosts haunting him.
"Sanji." There is no waver, no hesitation, to be found when you speak his name. Softly, and yet filled with certainty.
He's torn. So torn between insisting you stay, here with the others to remain safe and allowing you to leave in the cover of night. This was foolish, he thinks. Reckless and dangerous. And yet, he understands so deeply the need to protect the family you' still held dear to you'd left behind in pursuit of your dream. Had it been Zeff in danger, he would do the same, in a heartbeat.
But to see your expression so set—eyes so bright with fire now cold as stone as you gaze back at him, the only obstacle left in your way—the stars reflecting not only your determination to leave but the deep sadness that you tried so hard to hide. But after so long of sailing beside you, of looking at you with fondness and studying your every wonderful expression, Sanji could easily tell how much you hurt.
His cigarette's tobacco tasted stale and bitter, but he smoked it regardless, happy to have something else to focus on other than his loyalty to you and the desire to keep you safe. Could he really watch as you left on your own, off to face a danger that you insisted the others had no part of?
...but just as you'd said, weeks ago, who was he to intervene? Could he put aside his desire to keep you safe, for the sake of your freedom to choose for yourself?
With a slow exhale, smoke flows upwards from his mouth as he looks up to the starry sky. Sanji gives you one last long, concerned look, before telling you to stay safe on your way. He leaves the deck unguarded, abandoning his duty of night watch, for the ten minutes it takes you to steal one of the life rafts and sail off into the night.
"S-San...ji..." Despair that radiates from your whimpered cry cuts him to the bone, a fist of ice around his heart clenching tighter with each of your falling tears.
The flaming wreckage of your family's greatest treasure—the restaurant your father's father had worked years to build and grow—lit up the night like a beacon. Timbers crackled and snapped against the extreme heat and licking flames, burning everything your father held dear. All those years of work, of honest, hard work, became ashes and blackened timber at your feet.
Sanji couldn't look away. Not from the flames of your father's dream, but from you. Dejected, lost, without hope. On your hands and knees in the dirt a dozen meters from the restaurant where he'd first met you. Your fingers dig lines into the ground at your feet, desperate for some power, some semblance of control in this situation. But he knew, no amount of keening your heartache into the dirt would help. You were powerless to stop the flames. You were powerless to rescue your father, kidnapped by a man you thought dead and gone from your life.
Once more, you were powerless.
Sanji was silent in the face of your despair. He was there for you, in whatever capacity you needed. But he'd learned his lesson. He'd come to understand why you'd shouted so angrily at him that day. After years without the power to choose, the freedom to decide for yourself and do as you pleased, you would never let another take that from you, even unwittingly. His good intentions had stolen your right to choose, no matter how inconsequential the decisions might have been.
So this time, he waited, patiently, contemplatively. Sanji waited for you to give the word, so you so choose to speak it.
And when you finally raised your head from the dirt, cheeks stained with tears of outrage and devastation, he listened to your desperate plea for help. And when your tearful cries lessened to muttered sobs, broken and sad, he came closer and rested a hand carefully atop your head in reassurance.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for you, after all. He was at your beck and call. Sanji was powerless in the face of tears from a woman he cherished.
"Sanji..." Voice barely above a whisper, he hears them clear as day as you stand beside him at the ship's deck railing.
Your home island is barely a dot on the distant horizon. And while Sanji knew that part of you wanted nothing more to stay with your father and help rebuild the restaurant that you both treasured, the desire to seek your own dream out in the world was of course too strong to ignore. Relief filled the blonde sea cook, glad that you'd chosen such a path. Parting ways now, after everything you'd experienced together, would have crushed him, he thought.
But...it would have been your choice, and he would have respected that.
The sound of his name, so quiet and reverent from your lips, makes him turn to you, curious. Your eyes are fixed to the sea, a light smile set firmly on your lips. Sanji can't look away from your beauty, dazzling under the orange glow of the setting sun. Warm as the fire in your eyes, returned now that the terrible ghosts of a past you'd long turned away from was finally, permanently, behind you.
A happiness had settled in place of the worry, the fear. For the first time since you'd first stepped foot on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, Sanji thought that you looked at ease. At peace. Unhindered. He'd do anything he had to in order to keep it that way.
And as if you could feel the weight of his adoring and heavy stare, your head turns to gaze back, undeterred by the meeting of your eyes. You don't look away. Sanji wouldn't dare to either. This lets him see the way your smile widens in gratitude, radiant and beaming. He's breathless before it, committing the sight to his memory, in case he'd never get to see it again.
Freedom never looked so beautiful, he decided.
"San-ji." He can practically hear the grin in your voice before he sees it, his heart fluttering a little when he feels a finger guide his jaw to look at you.
That teasing little smile, oh it'll be the death of him one of these days. While the kitchen may be his domain, you were a constant and dangerous distraction he couldn't resist. As a professional, Sanji would never let the mere sight of a gorgeous woman ruin a perfectly good meal, but oh...there were times when that resolve trembled. One sway of your hips, a coy little laugh, or an intentionally suggestive wink was all it took to make him a puddle at your feet.
Not that there wasn't ever a moment already he wouldn't move the sun and stars if you asked.
Gaze redirected to you, and the way your finger gingerly traced up the line of his jaw, finally resting just underneath his stubbled chin. Sanji felt himself swallow, waiting with bated breath for what you'd decide to do.
Mischievous, pondering eyes took in the sight of the starstruck cook. That fire had never dulled, not for a single day since your liberation. And now those flames were turned solely to him. Did they burn for him, just as his heart burned for you?
Hands trembled. His chest pounded, heavy and loud. Were you leaning closer? Yes...his eyes flicked down to your lips, soft and inviting. They parted, your own gaze half-lidded and trusting. Closer, and then closer still, until he felt your breath against his lips. His eyes closed, the distance disappearing with a gasp and sigh of content.
Whichever one of you they'd come from, he couldn't be pressed to figure out.
"Sa-Sanji~!" All other thought is lost to passion and pleasure, your nails digging into the back of his shoulders.
There was no sweeter sound than the way you uttered his name, so close to his ear, so filled with desire and adoration. Beneath him, around him, held within his arms. You arched and moaned and tightened in response to his every movement, each of his measured thrusts. If his every waking moment was spent having you beneath him like this, it would be a life well-spent.
Words failed him. No, words weren't enough to paint the picture of your beauty. Splayed and vulnerable, breasts heaving with every breath, giving and divine as he used his own body to bring you to a point of ecstasy. You deserved no less, and him, no more.
The cook can't look away as he fills you with every snap of his hips, groans of pleasure from his own mouth filling the spaces in which your own don't resound through the room. If the sound of your voices raised in passion weren't enough to alert the crew enjoying their feast outside, then the rocking of the bed certainly was.
But Sanji can't bring himself to think of anything but watching you come undone beneath him. And the air is ripped from his lungs the moment your eyes—up to this point closed with pleasure—open to bestow upon him a gaze so full of love, of unconditional affection, of everything he'd dreamed of seeing. It's too much. It's all too much for him.
He kisses you, hastening his pace and hurdling both of you towards that peak. He feels the moment you're lost to those erotic throes, your walls clenching to ride out those waves of climax for as long as possible, sending him right along with you. His groan is stuttering and long, knocking his breath away and leaving him a shuddering husk as he empties within you.
The scorching flames of lust behind your eyes simmer to a warm ember, of a love that would never cool. Sanji returns that expression with one of equal spirit, holding himself above you as he gains back the air from his lungs. Your own trembling hand rises to tenderly touch his cheek.
You whisper his name. He whispers yours. And in the silence of your bedroom, your devotions of love as left unspoken, yet proclaimed loud for one another to hear.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
