#also finishing this zoro fic … | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebunnednun · 6 months ago

Text

Tempted to touch! Men of One piece x Fm! Reader (Multi Character fic) Part 2

Pairings: Zoro x Reader, Buggy x Reader, Law x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Sabo x Reader, Kidd x Reader, Corazon x Reader

Synopsis: Can someone write like a lil thing for Ace, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile and/or Smoker or any One Piece character (secretly) seeing their S/O being able to whine (dance) and having crazy waist control (being able to bounce their ass without movin anything else)? 🧍🏻‍♀️

A little something for @mororona who gave me the prompt.

Use these songs:

Tempted to Touch by Rupee Zoro, Buggy, Rosinante

Nina Sky - Move Ya Body Kidd, Sabo,

Aventura - La Novelita Sanji, Law, Sanji

Or use any song you want *Shrugs*

I'ma also tag @fanaticsnail I added two special someones for you!!~

In honor of me reaching 100 followers I have prepared many stories for you all. Thank you to everyone who supported me through my hiatus. <33 ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯

On with the show!!~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zoro

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Thousand Sunny. The crew was scattered around the deck, enjoying a rare moment of peace.

Luffy and Usopp were engaged in a loud, animated conversation, while Nami and Robin sipped on drinks, sharing a quieter exchange. Sanji was in the kitchen, preparing a late-night snack for everyone, and Franky was tinkering with one of his inventions. Brook’s gentle strumming on his guitar added a serene backdrop to the scene.

Zoro, ever the loner, had retreated to a quiet corner of the deck. He leaned against the railing, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword, the other holding a half-empty bottle of sake. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be resting, but in truth, he was always alert, always ready.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪ ~

As the night grew darker, a soft, rhythmic beat began to echo across the deck. Zoro opened one eye, scanning the area for the source of the sound. His gaze landed on you and Chopper, standing near the center of the deck, your eyes closed, lost in your own world. Brooks music seemed to flow through you, guiding your movements.

Zoro's interest piqued as he watched you start to move. You swayed your hips with a grace and fluidity that was mesmerizing. The rest of your body remained still, save for your waist, which moved with a hypnotic rhythm. It was a skillful dance, one that required incredible control and strength. You were whining,and you were doing it flawlessly.

You were completely unaware of your audience. The other crew members continued their activities, oblivious to your impromptu performance. Zoro, however, couldn’t take his eyes off you. There was something captivating about the way you moved, something almost primal. He felt a strange mix of emotions—pride, admiration, and an unfamiliar heat that stirred deep within him.

Zoro’s grip on his bottle tightened as you shifted your movements, your hips now bouncing in a way that defied logic. It was as if the rest of your body had frozen in time, leaving only your waist to express the rhythm of the music. He had seen many things in his travels, but this was new, this was different.

As the song reached its crescendo, you finished with a graceful spin, finally opening your eyes. Your gaze met Zoro’s, and you froze, realizing you had an audience.

"[Name]-chan, why did you stop?" The little reindeer whined, wanting to be spun in your arms again. However, he stopped seeing the flustered swordsman and you locked in a staring match.

A blush spread across your cheeks, but Zoro’s expression was unreadable. He took a swig from his bottle, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Didn’t know you could dance like that,” he said, his voice low and appreciative.

You laughed nervously, running a hand through your hair. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Moss-head.”

He smirked, pushing off the railing and walking towards you. “Guess I’ll have to stick around and find out, then.”

"Are you guys flirting?"

"NO!"

Chopper let out some little giggles as he tugged your hand into his smaller one and almost dragged you to Zoro. Shockingly, the moss-head put down his bottle and picked up Chopper, placing him on his shoulders before offering a hand to you.

"Would you dance with me?"

You looked quickly between him and his outstretched palm before nodding and grabbing on.

As Zoro closed the distance between you, you could see the intensity in his eyes. The night was far from over, and you had a feeling it would be one to remember.

Buggy

It was a late night in the Big Top, and Buggy found himself tossing and turning, unable to sleep. His mind swirled with the day’s frustrations and petty annoyances. Costumes not right, Alvida roasting him, Richie almost eating some of the audience members. He grumbled to himself, contemplating another sleepless night when the faint sound of music reached his ears. It was a soft, rhythmic melody, entirely out of place at this hour.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪ ~

Annoyed, Buggy sat up and stomped towards the source of the disturbance. "Who the hell is playing music at this time?" he muttered under his breath, ready to bellow at whoever it was to, "Shut that damn music off!"

As he approached the main performance area, he stopped short. There, under the dim spotlight of the Big Top, he saw you, his shyest performer. Your back was to him, and you seemed completely absorbed in your dance, unaware of his presence.

The Big Top, usually bustling with noise and activity, was eerily silent save for the music. The moonlight filtered through the tent’s small windows, casting a gentle glow on your figure. You moved with an ethereal grace, your body swaying to the rhythm. Buggy’s eyes widened as he watched you, mesmerized.

You had always been reserved, avoiding the spotlight and keeping to yourself. But here, in the privacy of the night, you had shed your inhibitions, revealing a side of yourself that was both captivating and unexpected. Your eyes were closed, and a serene smile played on your lips as you moved to the rhythm of the music.

Your hips moved with a hypnotic precision, swaying and bouncing in a way that seemed almost impossible. The rest of your body remained still, a testament to your incredible control. It was a captivating sight, one Buggy couldn’t look away from.

You, the performer who always shied away from the spotlight, the one who would cry if pressed to the stage, were now the embodiment of confidence and skill. The music wrapped around you, each note guiding your movements. Your moments were so sure, rippling like water while you were completely lost in the flow of your craft.

Buggy watched you dance, each movement more enthralling than the last. The world outside the Big Top faded away, leaving only the music, your dance, and the spellbinding atmosphere

He leaned against the stands, his initial annoyance long forgotten. There was something enchanting about watching you like this, seeing you so free and unrestrained. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, shy person he knew you to be during the day. Buggy felt a strange warmth in his chest, a mix of admiration and a newfound affection.

As you continued, Buggy found himself captivated not just by your skill, but by the raw emotion you poured into each step. Your usually reserved demeanor was gone, replaced by a vibrant, enchanting presence. It was as if you had shed all your inhibitions, revealing a side of yourself that was hidden beneath layers of shyness and restraint.

The music continued, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace, guiding your every step. Buggy marveled at your skill and the way you seemed to place your heart into each movement. It was as if you were sharing a part of yourself that no one else had seen, a secret side that only the night and the music could coax out.

‘Beautiful,’

Buggy’s heart pounded as he observed you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He took a step back, careful not to make a sound. Buggy didn’t want to disturb this private moment, this secret display of your talent. The last thing he wanted was to break the spell you had unknowingly cast.

As the music slowly came to an end, you finished your dance with a final, graceful flourish. You stood there for a moment, breathing heavily but with a peaceful smile on your face, eyes closed.

Buggy took another step back, he didn’t want you to know he had been watching, not yet.

With one last lingering glance at you, Buggy turned and walked away, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He knew he would never look at you the same way again. The shy little performer he had thought he knew was gone, replaced by a captivating dancer with an irresistible charm.

That morning, Buggy carried the memory of your dance with him, a secret treasure he was happy to keep all to himself. It was a reminder that beneath the surface, there was always more to discover, and sometimes, the most beautiful things were found in the most unexpected places.

Law

It was late at night on the Polar Tang, and Law found himself unable to sleep. The day's events replayed in his mind, a mix of battles, research, and the endless responsibilities that came with being a captain. Frustrated, he rose from his bed, deciding to take a walk through the quiet corridors of his submarine.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪ ~

As he wandered, he heard a faint sound of a melody drifting through the halls. It was an unusual sound at this hour, and Law's first instinct was to put a stop to it. His crew needed rest, and so did he. With a sigh, he followed the melody, preparing to tell whoever it was to shut it off.

As he neared the source, Law's sharp eyes caught sight of a figure moving gracefully in the dimly lit common room. He stopped in his tracks, his irritation melting away as he realized who it was. You, the bubbly and ever-optimistic member of his crew, were dancing, completely lost in the flow of your movements.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of a few scattered lights, casting long shadows that danced along with you. The gentle sway of the submarine did little to disturb your rhythm. Your body moved with a fluidity that left Law momentarily speechless. Your hips swayed and bounced with an effortless control, your waist moving independently from the rest of your body. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that Law couldn't look away from.

You had always been the opposite of him—confident, lively, and full of an infectious energy that endeared you to everyone. You brought light to the crew, a stark contrast to Law's often serious demeanor. But here, in the privacy of the night, you had shed your usual exuberance, revealing a side of yourself that was just as captivating and unexpected.

Your eyes were closed, a serene smile playing on your lips as you moved to the rhythm of the music. Law found himself drawn in, watching the way you danced with a mix of grace and passion. Each movement was precise, yet filled with an emotional depth that spoke of a deep connection to the music. You seemed completely unaware of his presence, lost in a world of your own creation.

He leaned against the doorway, his initial annoyance long forgotten. There was something enchanting about watching you like this, seeing you so free and unrestrained. Law felt a strange warmth crawling up his neck into his face and ears.

Just then, the music paused as the record player needed to be restarted. You opened your eyes and saw Law just standing there, causing you to jump and scream out,

"AHHH!"

Startled, Law quickly looked behind him and then back to you, his eyes wide. "[Name]-ya! What's wrong?!"

Realizing that he had scared you, Law quickly crossed the floor to you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured into your hair, holding you close. "M’Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you buried your face in his shoulder, trying to calm down. "It’s okay, you just startled me, Law-san," you mumbled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You took a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent, a mixture of antiseptic and something uniquely him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear was soothing, gradually easing your surprise.

Law chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. He gently ran a hand down your back in a comforting gesture, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice gentle. "But I have to say, I really like your dancing. You should dance more often."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your cheeks still flushed. His usual stern expression had softened, and there was a genuine warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You really think so?" you asked, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite your usual confidence.

Law nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. I do."

Feeling a surge of affection for him, you grinned. "Well then, let's start now," you whispered with your own smile to match.

A warm smile spread across Law's face as he nodded. Without another word, he pulled you closer, and the two of you began to slow dance to the quiet hum of the Polar Tang. The world outside faded away, leaving only the gentle sway of your bodies and the comforting embrace you shared.

As you danced together in the dim light, a soft, contented silence settled over you both. The bubbly, sunshine-filled crew member and the stoic, grumpy captain, finding comfort and warmth in each other's arms, dancing to the silent music of the night.

SANJIIII

Late at night on the Thousand Sunny, Sanji found himself restless. Unable to sleep, he decided to check the kitchen, suspecting that the usual culprits—Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper—might be raiding the fridge again. With a lit cigarette in his mouth and a broom in hand, he made his way towards the kitchen, ready to shoo away the mischievous trio.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪♩~

As he approached, he heard faint noises and peeked through the kitchen window. To his surprise, it wasn't the usual suspects. Instead, it was you, wearing his chef's apron, making a little snack for yourself.

The apron hugged your figure in a way that made his heart flutter. You were preparing a simple sandwich and a glass of water, moving gracefully around the kitchen.

Sanji's eyes softened as he watched you dance while you put everything together, a little hip wiggle accompanying your movements. He adored that wiggle, especially when you ate something delicious. It was the very reason he always tried to create dishes that would make you dance with joy.

You were somewhat of a picky eater, often opting for something like soup or a sandwich while the rest of the crew ate their hearty meals. It broke his heart a bit, thinking he couldn't satisfy your appetite despite his efforts. Yet, he continued to create new dishes, hoping to find something that would suit your palate.

Quietly, Sanji slipped into the kitchen, watching as you finished cleaning and putting away the dishes—another thing he loved about you. Your consideration for his meticulously clean kitchen warmed his heart. You took a bite of your sandwich and did that delightful hip wiggle again, bringing a soft chuckle from Sanji as he admired you.

Suddenly, you accidentally dropped your water glass, and it shattered on the floor. You squatted down to pick up the pieces, but before you could touch any, you felt a warm presence behind you.

"Hold on now, love. You could hurt yourself," a gentle voice murmured.

You gasped as the smell of nicotine found its way to your nose and turned to find Sanji’s strong arms lifting you up and seating you on the kitchen counter. Now faced towards Sanji, he smiled up at you with such fondness as he crouched down that it made you blush. He carefully swept up the glass pieces, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Sanji, how long have you been here?" you asked, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth.

"Long enough to see that wonderful dance of yours," he answered honestly, a teasing smile on his lips. "You shouldn't be embarrassed. It was quite the beautiful sight to behold."

You nibbled on your sandwich, your cheeks flushing. "I'm sorry, Sanji. I didn't mean to wake you."

He sighed, his expression softening. "Don’t be ridiculous, I was already awake. I'm sorry I can't make dishes that agree with your tummy." He threw out the broken glass and set the broom back down before returning to you and adjusting the rolled up cuffs of his shirt before resting his hands on the counter.

‘Yummy,’

You shook your head, blushing. "It's not your fault! I actually include different parts of the dinner you make for us in my soup and sandwiches." You opened your sandwich to show him the seasoned meat he had made for dinner that night.

Sanji's heart soared at the sight. "Really? That makes me so happy, [Name]."

You bit your lip, looking down and playing with your fingers. "There's another reason why I don't eat in front of you, Sanji."

He tilted his head, curiosity piqued. "Why?"

You looked up, swinging your feet nervously. "I know acts of service are your love language, and I noticed you often just drink wine and eat a little bit while the crew has dinner.” You began to fidget with your fingers. “I would like it if you would sit with me during dinner and eat with me."

Sanji's cigarette slipped from his teeth, dropping to the floor. Quickly, he stomped it out, his mind raced before a smile spread across his face. He took your hands and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "I'd love that, [Name]."

You smiled brightly and tugged him into a hug, catching him by surprise. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. The two of you held each other for a while, basking in the warmth of the moment.

Sanji gently picked you up off the counter and set you down on the now clean, glass-free floor. "May I ask you a favor?"

You hummed in curiosity, looking up at him. "Of course, Sanji."

He took your hand and led you to the center of the kitchen. "Dance with me?"

Your face lit up with joy as you beamed at him. "I'd love to."

You placed your hand in his, and the two of you began to dance softly. One of his hands rested on your waist while your other hand rested on his shoulder. Slowly, you got closer, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. Both of his arms encircled your middle, and your arms wrapped around his neck. You gazed into each other's eyes, foreheads touching as you closed your eyes, enjoying the bliss of being together.

In the quiet of the kitchen, with the soft hum of the ship in the background, you danced together, finding solace and happiness in each other's embrace.

SABO

Sabo had managed to slip away from the Straw Hats during the festival, deftly navigating through the colorful crowds and festive stalls. The air was alive with the aroma of exotic foods and the joyous sounds of laughter and music. He had one mission in mind—to find you, the shyest Straw Hat, the half sea creature who usually kept away from the lively festivities.

Following the winding paths that led away from the main celebration, Sabo made his way to your usual meeting spot, a secluded cove hidden away from the bustling energy of the festival. The trees and berry bushes provide security from prying eyes.

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪♩~

As he approached, the distant strains of music reached his ears, carried on the gentle sea breeze. The soft glow of festival lights flickered in the distance, casting playful shadows along the path and adding to the enchanting atmosphere of the night.

Upon reaching the cove, Sabo paused, taking in the sight before him. There you were, bathed in the ethereal light of the moon, your scales catching the shimmering reflections from the sea. The soft, iridescent glow of your skin mesmerized him, each scale reflecting the hues of the festival lights like tiny jewels. They glimmered softly against your body, creating an otherworldly aura around you.

You stood at the edge of the cove, your movements fluid and graceful as you danced to the music only you could hear. The band playing nearby provided a rhythmic backdrop, guiding your movements with its upbeat tempo. Sabo watched, captivated by the way your body moved with such effortless grace, every sway of your hips and twist of your body a testament to your innate connection to the sea.

‘Motion in the Ocean~’

Unable to resist, Sabo stepped forward as you spun gracefully under the moonlight. With a boldness born of longing, he reached out and gently caught you in his arms. You gasped in surprise, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of astonishment and something deeper—a silent energy between you.

Without a word, Sabo began to move with you, his hands finding a natural place on your waist as he guided you in a dance that transcended words. The music enveloped you both, its melody weaving around your intertwined bodies like a delicate thread, binding you together in a shared moment of intimacy.

Your scales brushed against his hands, their texture smooth and cool to the touch, yet somehow soft and inviting. Sabo marveled at the contrast between your delicate scales and the warmth of your skin beneath, a sensation that sent a thrill through him with each fleeting touch.

As you danced, the distance between you melted away, leaving only the raw emotion and desire that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. Sabo's touch was tender yet firm, his gaze never leaving yours as he communicated his feelings through the language of movement and touch.

The song continued, each beat a heartbeat that echoed the rhythm of your shared dance. The festival lights twinkled in the background, casting a magical glow over your intertwined forms. The moonlight bathed you both in its soft, silvery light, highlighting the contours of your faces and the sparkle in your eyes.

As the final notes of the song drifted away, you both stood still, your hands clasped together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. The intensity of the moment hung between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that had brought you together under the moonlit sky.

"Again?"

"Again!"

With that, you both moved together once more, the world around you fading into the background as you lost yourselves in the dance of passion and longing. The only language needed was your moving bodies and the shimmering magic of the night.

Kidd

Amidst the vibrant festival lights and the lively atmosphere, Eustass Kid found himself observing the festivities with a skeptical eye. The air was thick with the scent of food and excitement, and the sound of music echoed through the streets.

As he navigated through the crowd, his attention was unexpectedly drawn to a figure that stood out from the revelry—a figure he didn't immediately recognize.

There she was, the crewmate he knew as somewhat reserved and always covered, now dressed in a flowing blouse and a short ruffled skirt that was raised higher with every step she took. Her mask was absent, allowing her hair to cascade freely around her shoulders. This new sight of her, smiling, laughing, and dancing without a care in the world, captivated him instantly.

She had become the center of attention in a dance circle, her movements graceful and fluid, drawing the eyes of everyone around her. Her laughter mingled with the music, a melody of joy that echoed through the night.

Kidd couldn't tear his eyes away from her—the way her eyes sparkled with mirth, her smile lighting up her face in a way he had never seen before.

Kidd was enraptured by this new side of her, so full of life and energy. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, reserved persona she usually displayed aboard the ship. He found himself drawn to her like a magnet, wanting to get closer without disrupting her dance.

Meanwhile, Killer, ever observant of his captain's moods and inclinations, noticed Kidd's fixed gaze and sharp interest. With a mischievous grin, he assumed Kidd wanted to join in on the fun and playfully slapped his back in encouragement, pushing him forward towards the dance circle with a hearty, "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

Startled by Killer's unexpected shove, Kidd stumbled forward and inadvertently bumped into the edge of the dance circle, drawing the attention of everyone, including you. At first, you looked surprised, momentarily pausing in your dance as you tried to place the interruption.

However, any annoyance quickly melted into amusement when you realized it was your captain who had stumbled into the midst of the dance. You giggled at the sight of him, his usual stern expression slightly awkward as he tried to move in sync with the music and the others around him.

Without missing a beat, you took matters into your own hands, quite literally. Grabbing Kidd's hands with a playful grin, you pulled him flush against you, guiding him through the steps of the dance with an infectious confidence. The music seemed to intensify around them, matching the fiery spirit of their impromptu dance.

Kidd, though initially caught off guard, soon found himself swept up in the rhythm of the dance and the energy radiating from you. Your touch was surprisingly gentle yet firm, leading him through the intricate steps with a natural grace that belied your usual reserved demeanor. He couldn't help but be drawn to your infectious enthusiasm and the way your laughter filled the air around them.

Each step and sway seemed to draw you closer, the rhythm syncing your movements in a sensual duet. The festival lights cast shifting patterns around you, accentuating the curve of your neck as you leaned into his touch, and the warmth of his hand on your waist, guiding you in the dance. Kidd's gaze held an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, his fingertips grazing lightly against your skin as you moved together. The air crackled with a palpable tension, charged with the electricity of desire.

Your breath mingled in the space between you, the heat of the night matching the heat rising between your entwined forms. The world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the sensation of his strong frame pressed against yours, and the undeniable attraction that had ignited between you.

The festival lights cast a kaleidoscope of colors around them, accentuating their dance with a vibrant backdrop of swirling hues. The night seemed to bend around them, the music guiding their every twist and turn, until they were lost in their own world of rhythm and passion.

With each beat of the music, you surrendered to the allure of the dance, allowing yourselves to be carried away by the intoxicating rhythm and the lingering touches of his hand on your hips and waist sending a rush of warmth through you.

At the end of the song, they stood together in the center of the circle, their hands still clasped, breaths mingling in the cool night air. Kidd couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. The festival lights flickered around them, casting playful shadows over their faces as they caught their breath.

"Well, well," Kidd started, his voice low and teasing, "Who knew the prude one had such moves?" Kidd couldn't help but admire you in this liberated state, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the warmth of your smile.

Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of interest and amusement. "Surprised, Captain? I guess there's more to me than meets the eye," you replied, your tone playful yet tinged with challenge.

Kidd chuckled, a deep rumble that resonated in the night air. "Clearly," he remarked, his gaze locking with yours. "I never took you for someone who could command a dance floor."

You shrugged nonchalantly, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes. "You never asked~," you quipped, stepping closer to him until your bodies were almost touching.

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of admiration crossing his features. "Maybe I should ask more often," he countered, his voice lowering to a husky murmur.

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his gaze, your breath catching slightly. "Maybe you should," you shot back, a bratty challenge in your tone as you leaned closer to him, your faces mere inches apart.

For a moment, you stood there in the electric tension between you, the music and laughter of the festival fading into the background. It was just the two of you, caught in a dance of words and desires.

"Care to show me more of your hidden talents, then?" Kidd murmured, his voice a low, enticing growl.

A smirk played on your lips as you tilted your head, meeting his gaze head-on. "Depends," you teased, "Are ya up for the challenge?"

Kidd's eyes darkened with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, his hand tightening around yours. "Try me," he dared, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

With that, you pulled him back into the dance, your bodies moving together with a newfound power and intimacy. The festival continued around you, but in that moment, all that mattered was the fiery connection between you in the midst of the night's celebration.

As you danced, your banter continued, each teasing remark and playful touch fueling the chemistry that simmered between you. The festival lights illuminated your dance, casting a halo of warmth and desire around your figures as you moved in sync, drawn together by a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist.

At the end of the song, you paused once more, breathless and exhilarated from your dance. Your eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken promises and newfound understanding.

"Can you handle me?" you whispered, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Kidd smirked, his gaze never leaving yours. "I’ll fuck around and find out," he agreed, pulling you closer as you both prepared to lose yourselves once more in the intoxicating rhythm of the night.

Corazon Rosinante <3

Rosinante joined the Straw Hats and Heart Pirates at a bustling club to celebrate their latest victory. The atmosphere was alive with pulsing music and laughter, drinks flowing freely as everyone reveled in the night's festivities. Amidst the animated crowd, Cora sat quietly at the bar, nursing a glass of water, his serene expression belying the chaos around him.

You, working behind the bar as a bartender, couldn't help but notice the lone figure amidst the revelry. Curiosity sparked, you approached Rosinante with a friendly smile, unaware that he couldn't speak.

“Hey stranger, you enjoying yourself?”

He looked a little startled by you. He hadn’t expected anyone to strike up a conversation with him tonight. Holding up a polite finger, he dug into his pocket for a moment, pulling out a notepad. He scribbled a cheerful greeting and slid it over to you, hoping to communicate with you.

‘Hi! Thanks for asking. I’m doing fine.’

Unfortunately for him, his pencil broke. Cora let out a silent groan before reaching into his pockets to find another writing tool. Quiet giggles filled his ears before he looked up to see you pull a pencil from behind your ear and you scribble a cheerful greeting and before sliding it over to him.

‘No problem at all.’

Rosinante, caught off guard by your gesture, glanced at the note with surprise before returning your smile. You picked up a pen and offered it to him and he began to respond in kind, a playful doodle sketched on its surface. It depicted a tiny heart wearing a straw hat, accompanied by a speech bubble saying, "Quiet night?"

You looked up, surprised, then smiled warmly. He reached for the note and wrote underneath, "Not much for the noise. Enjoy watching them have fun."

You chuckled softly, replying with another doodle, this time of a heart holding a pen, writing, "I get that. Sometimes it's nice just to watch."

Rosinante grinned at your doodle, appreciating the whimsy in your communication. Before he could respond, a commotion broke out nearby.

Your coworker, a spirited woman named Maya, known for her contagious enthusiasm (and for getting so hammered with the clients she would dance on the bar), had spotted you at your station. With a mischievous wink, Maya grabbed your hand, urging you to join her on the dance floor.

At first, you resisted, shaking your head with a playful protest. But Maya wasn't easily deterred. She pulled you gently but persistently, whispering, "Come on, just this once! It's your song!"

~ ♩♪♩♬ ♬♩♪♩~

The DJ, sensing the moment, began to cue up your favorite track, its familiar beats filling the air. Initially hesitant, you laughed and shook your head, trying to resist her playful insistence. But Maya wasn't one to take no for an answer. With a playful pout and a persuasive sway, she coaxed you onto the dance floor amidst cheers and encouragement from those nearby.

“Fine! Just for one song!” You finally relented, stepping onto the dance floor. Caught up in the moment, you began to move, your body responding naturally to the music. Your dance was a display of precise waist control and confident grace, drawing all eyes towards you.

The music enveloped you, with you effortlessly weaving through the crowd with dance moves that showcased your skillful waist control and playful charisma. The club erupted in cheers, friends and strangers alike clapping along to the rhythm, captivated by your impromptu performance.

Meanwhile, Rosinante watched in awe seated at the bar. He couldn't help but watch with rapt attention. His cheeks flushed as he observed your skillful movements and the joyous energy you exuded. He hadn’t expected this tonight, he hadn’t expected you tonight—so vibrant and alive, captivating everyone around you.

The club erupted in applause and cheers, celebrating your impromptu performance. Maya danced alongside you, matching your energy with her own infectious spirit, creating a scene of pure revelry and joy.

Rosinante, mesmerized by your dance, felt a warmth spread through him. He couldn't look away, feeling admiration and perhaps a hint of a crush stirring within him as he watched you shine in the spotlight of the dance floor. His heart pounding in his ears along with the music's beat.

Meanwhile, Luffy and Zoro noticed Rosinante's fixed gaze on you. With mischievous grins, they nudged Law, who was quietly sipping his drink nearby. Law, ever the strategist, decided to intervene in his own unique way.

"Cora-san seems to need a little nudge," Law remarked casually to Luffy and Zoro.

"I'll help him find it."

Before Rosinante could react, Law had already grasped his hand, feigning concern as he led Rosinante away from the bar. "Let's checkout the DJ booth," Law suggested, his tone masking his true intentions.

Confused but compliant, Rosinante allowed himself to be led towards where you were dancing. Suddenly, Law released his hand, leaving Rosinante standing awkwardly behind you. Flustered, Rosinante attempted to move out of the way, his taller frame proving a challenge in the crowded club.

“Looks like we got a challenger folks!” The DJ boomed over the music leading you to turn around and crank your neck up, up, up at the now standing silent customer.

“Oh it’s you!”

Cora, unsure of what was happening, allowed himself to be led, his mind racing with thoughts of how to gracefully excuse himself from the situation. Just as he was about to attempt to leave, you noticed him and gently grabbed the back of his shirt, preventing his escape.

The music pounded around you as you shouted over the noise, "Hey! Dance with me!"

Startled, Rosinante fumbled for his notepad to write a response, but you took it gently from his hand and pocketed it with a knowing smile. Sensing his hesitation, you hopped up onto a nearby table, waving him forward. Your eyes met his, and he could see the playful challenge in your expression.

“This should be okay, right?”

With a shy nod and a blush coloring his cheeks, Rosinante tentatively joined you at the table. It had been years since he last danced, but with your encouragement and the pulsing beat of the music, he quickly found his rhythm again. His movements were graceful yet tentative at first, but as the song progressed, confidence surged through him.

The dance became a playful exchange of steps and spins, laughter ringing out between you. Rosinante surprised himself with how easily he moved, his tall frame gracefully accommodating your playful gestures. As the music reached a crescendo, he swept you into his arms, one hand securely under your thighs and the other clasping yours. You held onto his waist with your legs and together, you spun in sync, the joy evident on both your faces.

The club erupted into thunderous cheers and applause, celebrating your spontaneous and captivating dance. Even Law, watching from the sidelines with a rare smile, couldn't help but be impressed by Rosinante's unexpected grace and the dorky cuteness between you both.

For Rosinante, this unexpected dance had not only brought him closer to you but also rediscovered a part of himself he thought he had long forgotten. And as the club around him faded, amidst the laughter and celebration, he found himself very grateful for the playful twist of fate that had brought him to your side.

As the song ended, you both took a bow, and the crowd clapped enthusiastically. However, in his attempt to stand tall and bow gracefully, Rosinante rolled his ankle and stumbled, causing a collective gasp from the onlookers.

“Ah shit.”

“There Cora-san goes again!”

“Have you tried drinking some milk?”

Quick to react, Law stepped forward, helping you guide Corazon to a nearby chair. He swiftly retrieved some ice from the bar and placed it gently in a bag on Rosinante's ankle, muttering about the clumsiness under his breath.

Rosinante winced slightly but managed a sheepish smile as he gestured for you to come closer. With a touch of embarrassment, he handed you a note. You gasped in surprise, feeling your pockets and realizing that Rosinante had discreetly taken back his notepad without your notice.

The note was a simple yet heartfelt message, thanking you for the best time he'd had in years with a smiley face that had hearts on both cheeks. You beamed warmly at him, feeling a rush of affection for this gentle-hearted man who had ventured out of his comfort zone for you.

"Can I give you a hug?" you asked softly, seeking permission.

Rosinante's shy eyes widened, and he nodded eagerly, opening his arms. Without hesitation, you dove into his embrace, feeling the warmth and sincerity in his gesture. He felt so fucking good to hug.Even the scent of his cologne, mixed with the subtle aroma of the club and the faint trace of sweat from dancing wasn’t bad at all.

He was so tall you actually could almost climb into his lap if you wanted. But that would be going pretty far for a first meeting. Instead, you tucked your head into his neck and closed your eyes. His heart was pounding against yours, the rhythm syncing with the lingering excitement of the dance.

‘He’s so fucking cute!~’

In that moment, amidst the music and the crowd, you realized that you weren't the only one feeling a "little" flustered.

Suddenly, the DJ's voice blasted over the speakers, giving you both a shoutout. "Let's hear it for the cutest couple out here tonight!"

You and Rosinante's cheeks flushed crimson as you snapped your necks to the DJ before shyly looking back at each other. As he sat back in the chair, trying to process the unexpected attention. In his flustered state, he tipped backwards, taking you with him in a gentle fall. Before you could react, his strong arms instinctively wrapped around you, protecting you from the fall.

You cringed at the echo of the chair slapping against the concrete floor as you ended up in the handsome stranger's lap and pressed up into his chest and neck.

"Sorry!" he whispered in your ear softly, his voice so warm and soothing that it sent a shiver down your spine. It was then that you realized—he could talk, and his voice was incredibly nice.

The crew members of both the Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates, along with your coworkers and even your manager, let out collective "awes" at the sight of you both, wrapped up in each other's arms. The moment, filled with laughter and warmth, seemed to freeze in time, a perfect tableau of the unexpected

As your coworkers and Law helped you both back up from the chair, the warmth of the moment lingered between you and Rosinante. Despite the stumble, you found yourselves chatting easily, laughter punctuating the conversation as you exchanged stories and shared moments from the night.

Eventually, the festivities began to wind down, and one by one, your friends and colleagues bid their farewells, heading home for the night. Rosinante lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting yours with a soft smile.

Before he left, he waved goodbye and then gestured towards his pocket. Confused, you looked down and discovered a note tucked neatly into your pocket. With a flutter of anticipation, you unfolded it and read the words written in his neat handwriting.

–

My tiny dancer,

Thank you for the most wonderful evening I've had in years. Your smile lit up the room, and dancing with you was a joy I'll cherish. I hope we can do it again soon! (But hopefully without the ‘accidents’.)

Take care,

Rosinante

Phone number: XXX- (555) -4567

–

Heart racing with excitement, you looked up to find Corazon already halfway out the door, his shy smile lighting up his face. With a rush of gratitude and newfound connection, you tucked the note safely away,

You nodded at him, conveying your appreciation and eagerness to see him again, and then playfully blew him a kiss.

Corazon's cheeks flushed crimson once more as he, in a moment of playful realization, pretended to catch the blown kiss, but his attention was momentarily diverted. With a soft thud, he accidentally banged his head against the metal door frame, a mix of embarrassment and amusement crossing his features. You cringed a little bit from the impact and gestured to his forehead. He gave you a thumbs up and your heart relaxed a bit.

Meanwhile, the other characters in the club had been watching the scene unfold with amused affection. Maya clapped her hands together with a gleeful laugh, thoroughly enjoying the romantic interlude she had inadvertently helped create. Law, who stood nearby, nudged Corazon along, “Come on, you’ll see her again soon,” a rare smile playing on his lips as he observed Corazon's departure.

Outside, the night air was cool and refreshing as Corazon walked away from the club, a smile lingering on his lips. He couldn't shake the butterflies of excitement and anticipation, grateful for the unexpected turn of events that had brought him to you.

Back inside, the club gradually quieted down as patrons began to disperse, each carrying with them memories of a lively celebration and the heartwarming sight of two unlikely dancers. Maya and your other coworkers exchanged knowing glances, silently agreeing to tease you about this later and hound you for updates once you’d texted the clumsy cutie.

You were a little more smiley as you closed up your section. Standing amidst the remnants of the evening's joy, you felt a sense of possibility and newfound happiness knowing that this night had brought something special into your life—a gentle-hearted man named Corazon, who had danced and rolled his way into your heart.

You reached for your phone to take a picture of the note. Just in case you lost it. Tucking Corazon's note safely into your pocket, you knew that this was just the beginning of a romance with a gentle-hearted giant named Corazon.

Bonus:

Later that night, as you settled in at home, you reached into your pocket and pulled out Corazon's note once more. With a smile, you carefully unfolded it and read the words again, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. You decided to send him a text, wanting to talk to him again.

----

Unknown: Hi Corazon! It's [Name] from the club. I made it home safely. Thank you for the lovely note. 😊

----

Meanwhile, across town, Corazon lay in a hospital bed with his head bandaged and his ankle elevated, the result of an unexpected mishap on his way home. While walking back to his car with his friends, Cora was lost in thoughts of you and the evening's enchantment. So he had stumbled into an uncovered manhole, resulting in a tumble that miraculously left him only bruised and slightly battered.

----

Rosinante: Hi [Name]! I'm glad you made it home safely. Sorry for the delay—I had a little accident on my way back. Nothing serious, just a reminder to pay more attention. 😅 How are you?

----

You settle back into your cozy spot on the couch, phone in hand, waiting for his response. The moments stretch out as you imagine the possible scenarios, your mind filled with concern for the endearing, clumsy man who had captured your heart so unexpectedly.

Your phone dings again, and you quickly read his reply.

––––

Oh no! What happened? Are you okay? :You

Rosinante: I was daydreaming about you and didn't notice an uncovered manhole. I fell in and sprained my ankle and bumped my head. I'm in the hospital now, but it's nothing serious. Just a bit embarrassed. 😳

–––––

“Oh Dearest Pie, he falls down a freaking manhole and still asks me how I’m doing.”

Your heart melts at his candid confession, a mixture of concern and affection welling up within you. You can't help but laugh softly, picturing the tall, awkward sweetheart stumbling into a manhole because he was thinking of you.

–––––

Tiny Dancer: Oh no, Rosinante! I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope you're not in too much pain. If it helps, I'm flattered that I was on your mind. 😊

–––––

A shy smile tugs at his lips as he lies in his hospital bed. His reply comes quickly, the playful tone lifting your spirits.

–––––

Rosinante: It does help, actually! Your smile is a pretty nice distraction. 😊

–––––

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you continue the conversation, sharing stories and laughter, bridging the distance between you with every message. The night grows late, but neither of you seems to notice, too engrossed in the blossoming feelings between you.

––––

I wish I could be there to keep you company. :You

Rosinante: Just knowing you're thinking of me is enough. But maybe we can meet up again soon please? I promise to avoid any manholes this time! 😅

––––

“Fuck he’s too cute.”

––––

I'd like that very much. Rest up, okay? :You

And thank you for making tonight so special. :You

Rosinante: Thank you, too. Goodnight, Tiny Dancer.

Goodnight, Gentle Giant. :You

––––

Despite the mishap, Rosinante couldn't help but smile as he typed out the message. The memory of your smile and the warmth of your presence lingered with him, easing the discomfort of his minor injuries. He eagerly began to look up other dance clubs he could take you to, his heart thankful for the continuation of this unexpected and delightful chance of meeting you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Link to part 1.

Let this serve as the official kick off to the summer!

Taglist: @orange-milky @xxsliverwolfxx @mochiclouds

I own none of the images or art!!

I wanna add more characters later, Lemme know what characters you want! DM's are always open.

Posted on the ao3 account soon.

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a fic for almost everyone here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ And thank you guys again for 100 followers!!

323 notes · View notes

revasserium · 1 year ago

Note

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

#opla #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece netflix #one piece fluff #sanji opla #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #opla x reader #opla x you #opla fluff #x reader #floofy floof floof #scheduled post

754 notes · View notes