#disorder with legs
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doodle-drawz-stuff · 9 months ago
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Update!!!!!
SO
I 'Think' I have A style down so here are facts for the boys of all time (In my mod that has no name yet)
Pico
In the mod, Pico has severe PTSD and BPD, along with anxiety issues and insomnia, because... well yeh, Pico's school existed.
He comes from a Hispanic origin and speaks fluent Spanish. In raps or in simple fights he will cuss people out in Spanish (Especially if they are white dudes thinking they are the shit-) just for the hell of it.
👏HE👏 GOT👏 THERAPY👏
(Yes this ties to the character I added cuz yeh) After meeting Rex, they ended up bonding over trauma and shit, with Rex's INSANE amount of money, he got Pico a high-quality therapist that ended up helping him control how serious his trauma responses are (Basically helping him find ways to calm himself and I identify what real and not when in a panic)
He has earrings. Period.
BEFORE WE MOVE ON TO BF
Poll :)
(Extra little thingy: Your choice can also mean both, as that is exactly what my friend did)
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fa1ryc4y · 2 months ago
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every time i get hungry i go on tumblr
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the-worms-in-your-bones · 7 months ago
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It’s disability pride month, you know what that means, you are now legally obligated to make all of your favorite characters disabled
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littlelilaclina · 3 months ago
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do ya’ll ever sit there and think about how stupid someone has to be to not see you’re struggling.. and then you kind of take it as a compliment at how good you are at hiding things.. just me??
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ugh-skinni-aesthetics · 1 year ago
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fanaticsnail · 7 months ago
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Thinking about a reader who's too polite for their own good. They aren't a total pushover, of course, but still don't speak up a lot of the times even when they probably should.
It's been a problem their whole life, but it really comes to a head when they join the strawhats. There's the usual problems; Luffy being obnoxiously loud, Chopper and Usop and their hyjinks. But none of these things compare tho their problems with Sanji.
The chef has one rule: no wasting food. It's how he was raised, and his experiences have lead to him understanding the importance of a meal. The 'no food waste' rule is known ship wide.
So when something is made that the reader doesn't like, they have no choice but to choke it back with a smile.
Sanji thinks he's done something wrong; underseasoned the food, maybe? This leads to a vicious cycle of him trying to perfect the food (because damn if he isn't going to get this right for his pretty crewmate) and the reader choking it back reluctantly (because damn if they're going to break Sanji's one rule and potentially ruin their chances).
All of this comes to one glorious, horrendous conclusion where one of Sanji's attempts uses an ingredient that the reader is allergic to and well....let's just say the aftermath was something to behold.
-♡♡
POOR BABYYYYYYYY. I love it. Let's torture him a bit.
Food Preferences
Masterlist Here
Little drabble.
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Synopsis: Sanji caters to suit your personal food preferences, and it hurts him to learn of how truly picky you were with your food. He lives to serve, but his background as a great cook leaves him with a bruised ego to dull down his extravagant meals.
Themes: Sanji x gn!reader, underlying feelings, Sanji is a service king, reader is a picky eater.
Warning: potential eating disorder mentioned. Sanji serves large portions and it hurts to finish your plate.
Notes: Oh my gosh, Sanji would feel so guilty about it too. He'd cry before giving Luffy your portion, but would absolutely cater to suit your needs.
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His portion control is due to the fact that he's feeding Luffy constantly, and expecting everyone to get a taste of everything he makes before Luffy takes it all for himself. It's the same with Zoro's drinking habit. He wants everyone to have a sample of something nice, and is used to having the collective gratitude and praise from everyone as soon as they eat their food.
Sometimes all you want is simplicity. No extravagant flavours. No richness in your desserts, no complex flavours in your meals. A military ration wafer block or two with a hot cup of boiled water is sometimes enough, you're not for all the complexity. Tea and a biscuit. Black coffee and a shortbread cookie. Simple flavours.
When Sanji nearly killed you with your allergy in a bid to win you over, you finally softly explain to him your preferences, and he listens. He may not understand it, but he listens. Simple, clean, basic, boring.
Immediately purchasing new crockery and knives specifically catering to your allergy preferences, he ordered in ingredients specifically for you that would never even glance at the same cabinet the allergins would be homed in. He's not about to send someone into anaphylaxis because he wanted to please someone, especially someone he served with on his crew.
He can't help but almost mourn when he makes your food now. He lives to serve, and that service includes providing foods that suit your preferences. Preferences that hurt his ego as a chef, but suited his purpose as someone who lives to serve.
Each time he brings you a dish now, he attempts to hide his sorrow at such a dish. He can't stand it, it kills him inside. It's worse than Chef Zeff wanting to drown everything in oregano. It's bland, it's boring, it's little...
...and it makes you smile.
And boy, oh boy, is he a sucker for that smile.
The way his heart flutters, his smile brightens, his eyes twinkle all in the hopes that you'd bless him with that soft smile he'd come to cherish. He didn't know when, but his heart sang to you. Maybe he could coax you in to expanding your preferences through something small, something new mixed in with the familiar. If he was willing to cut back for you, perhaps you could find it in your heart to expand for him.
If not, he'd love you for who you are anyway.
Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady
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rollinouttahere-writes · 14 days ago
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I have decided to post the Sanji vent fic. Hopefully anyone struggling with a similar problem will be able to find comfort in this.
Genuine
Yandere Sanji x Fem Reader
6.4k words
Summary: It would seem that your coworker is onto you and your eating disorder, but you never could have guessed how far he would be willing to go.
Warnings: described feminine reader, non consensual touching, yandere tendencies, drugging, kidnapping, captivity, anorexia, reader is described as being underweight, negativity and self depreciation, I wrote this for me but like y'all can read this too I guess
“Is there anything else I can get for you two?”
“N-No, that’s all,” the man at the table shot you an anxious smile while wringing his sweaty hands before refocusing his attention on the woman sitting across from him.
Taking the hint, you promptly excuse yourself with a smile tugging at your lips. You couldn’t help but find the couple cute, especially after the man had nervously slipped you an engagement ring to place inside the lady’s champagne flute.
It was a quiet night in the Baratie with only a sparse amount of customers dining in. That meant less tips, but since it also meant less work, and you knew better than to bemoan it too much. Busy nights were truly chaotic, so you learned quickly to appreciate when it was slow. 
With so little to do, you couldn’t help but covertly watch the table you just serviced, curiously awaiting how the woman would take to the proposal. Would she scream in joy and let out happy tears? Or would she be upset and dump the contents of the glass on her boyfriend’s head? Only time would tell.
As your gaze landed on the table, you saw that she had already fished the ring out of the glass with an awestruck look on her face. The man scrambled out of his seat and dropped to his knees beside her, clumsily swiping the ring off the fork and holding it up to her while saying words that you couldn’t quite make out from here.
Your eyes drifted to the woman. You were looking to see what her reaction was, but as per usual… your mind had other ideas.
She was gorgeous. A goddess amongst mere peasants. The way that her skillfully styled hair framed her face accentuated her every feature just as much as her perfectly applied makeup did. Not to mention that her dress was seemingly tailored to fit her stunning body just right. Anyone would feel blessed just to stand next to her. It was hardly surprising that someone would be so nervous and excited to propose to her.
What you wouldn’t give to be like her. To look like her. 
“How romantic~”
A wistful sigh next to you snaps you out of your envious thoughts. You blink a couple times and see that the woman is now out of her seat and hugging the man tightly while all but sobbing her answer. The other patrons in the dining area politely clap for the happy couple, and your body goes into autopilot to do the same.
You spare a glance to the side, regarding the person who had just spoken to you. Sanji was standing no more than a foot away while watching the spectacle before him with a dreamy expression. He meets your eyes with a gaze that felt uncomfortably intimate, causing you to look the other way again. Your reaction makes him chuckle and step closer to you, and one of his hands snakes around your waist. The sensation of his hand massaging your side made you internally cringe. If anyone else did this to you, you would slap them. But… Sanji is your boss’s son, and you don’t particularly want to go job hunting again right now.
“Don’t you think that’s romantic?” His voice cooed directly into your ear, allowing you to feel his warm breath fan across it.
Not wanting to risk showing your discomfort, you keep your answer short, “I guess…”
“You guess? Do you not think that’s sweet?” His hand settles on your hip and forces you even closer to him, much to your chagrin. Of course he’s doing whatever he can to prolong the conversation.
“It’s just… I would hate a public proposal, that’s all.” You give a partial truth, not wishing to divulge the nasty pit of envy that was the real reason behind your less than enthusiastic reaction. “I’m happy for them, don’t get me wrong, but I would be mortified if someone proposed to me this way.”
“Oh? So you would want something more private and personal? That’s good to know.” 
Without even looking at him, you could tell that he was smirking and it made you want to groan and roll your eyes, but you resisted. You cross your arms over your chest and sigh deeply, “I don’t see why any of my preferences would be good for you to know.”
Sanji pulls you in until you’re flush against his side and uses his free hand to grasp your chin and force you to look him in the eye, “But of course it’s good to know, my love. That could be us someday~”
A shiver runs down your spine and you abruptly shove him away, “You aren’t funny, Sanji.” You take several steps back and straighten your uniform, “Now get back to work and leave me alone so I can do my job.” You turn on your heel and march away from him, ignoring his protests. Fortunately, before he can give chase, Zeff pops his head out of the kitchen and yells at Sanji to get back in there.
Thank god…
You didn’t know what Sanji’s problem was, nor why he was so hung up on harassing you. As you bounce between tables and serve the customers, your mind keeps drifting back to Sanji against your will. You couldn’t stand him… but you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him either. 
The first time he said his honeyed words to you, your heart skipped a beat. You had never been the kind of person to garner attention, much less of the romantic variety. There were butterflies in your stomach and fanciful daydreams in your head about the possibilities your futures held together. But… then he went and ruined it and crushed your dreams. You felt like a fucking idiot for thinking that you were anything special because as it turns out, Sanji is a chronic flirt and treats every woman he sees like this.
Those sweet words held no more significance than a “hello” or “how are you” to him, but you were stupid enough to take them at face value and fall for his words hook, line, and sinker. It was ridiculous. Doubly so because of all the women he could have, why the fuck would he want you? All you are is some pathetic, ugly, boring nobody. Of course he didn’t actually mean what he said. You would give anything for his actions to actually mean something, for him to genuinely be interested in you, but that just wasn’t the case and it never would be.
What you really didn’t get was why he kept trying after the jig was up. He should have dropped you like a bad habit after you started rebuking his efforts, sometimes quite harshly, but he didn’t give up. Why he was still playing this game with you was beyond your understanding. Maybe he was just viewing your stubbornness as a conquest. A conquer to boast about once he accomplished his goal. You didn’t know, but you were hellbent on never giving him the satisfaction.
But dwelling on such drama was hardly going to get you anywhere. The only good thing that came of your introspection was that it carried you through the first part of your shift and to your lunch break. After finishing with your last table, you allow a different waiter to take over your section while you excuse yourself to enjoy your break.
You slip into the coat room to put on your jacket and grab the thermos you packed for today, then head for the exit so you can sit in your car for the duration of your break. While the Baratie did provide a breakroom for the staff, you preferred the peace and solitude that came from spending time in your vehicle instead. Just as your fingers are wrapping around the doorknob to twist it open, a voice cuts through the air, calling your name and bringing you to a halt.
The knob creaks softly as your hand tightens around it, but you take a deep breath and release it as you turn around, “What do you want now, Sanji?”
If he could pick up on the annoyance and bitterness in your tone, he blatantly ignored it. Instead, he beamed at you and closed the distance between you two in record time, “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I packed you a lunch today!” Sanji presented you with a small box that he then pried the lid off of to show off the contents inside.
The lunch looked like one of those classic bentos that you see when you watch anime. There are several rounded onigiri molded and decorated to look like pandas staring back at you. Crammed into the remaining space are some colorful vegetables as well as a thinly sliced cutlet of some sort with a small sauce container in the middle.
This was far from the first time that Sanji tried to pass off a lunch onto you. While they did always look and smell appealing, all that you could focus on was the negatives of it. The carbs, the deep fried meat, the vegetables that were coated in what was no doubt a calorically dense sauce. There were enough calories in this single lunch to carry you through the week, you’re sure of it. Your body would give out before you could ever work all of this off. And Sanji offered you this kind of shit damn near daily. It’s like he’s trying to make you fat.
Sanji’s face falls when you don’t say anything or make an attempt to take it, “Do you not like it? I can go make you something else if you want. Just tell me what you want and I’ll go make it right now.”
His persistence makes you cringe. How many times are you going to have to shoot him down before he actually listens to you and stops trying to give you food? You force a smile onto your face and hold up your thermos, “No… it, uh, it looks great, but I already have something to eat.”
“What do you have?”
Your eye twitches as he presses on, “Soup.”
For a moment, he just stares at you. The intensity of his gaze makes you shift uncomfortably. When he puts the lid back onto the bento, you feel a rush of relief, thinking that he was finally going to drop it and leave. But then he takes a step forward, his visible eye staring into your soul as he asks another question, “What kind?”
“W… What? Excuse me?” 
“What kind of soup did you bring?”
The seriousness in his voice as he asked such a bizarre question made you laugh nervously, “What kind? What are you? The soup police?” You hope that the attempt at humor would diffuse the tense air and make him back off, but he just continues to stare at you expectantly. Your smile drops and twists into a scowl. “Why do you care? I’m just trying to take my break. Would you let me do that already?”
“... There’s just broth in there, right?” Sanji reaches inside his suit jacket for a cigarette and lights it. He takes a long drag of it, not giving a damn about the fact that he’s still in the building, “Or maybe green tea, though you usually use a different thermos for tea.”
What the fuck?
All you can do is stare at him as your blood runs cold. How did he know that? Your fingers tighten around the thermos that he correctly guessed the contents of. This was making you feel backed into a corner, and you could feel your temper starting to flare up. Why couldn't Sanji just mind his own damn business for once in his life?
“I don't see how this affects you. Just leave me the hell alone, okay? Get off my case.” Every word was spoken through clenched teeth as you tried desperately to keep from snapping at him and causing a scene. You whip around, intent on leaving so you can hide out in your car from him. 
Before you can even grab hold of the doorknob, two arms wrap around your midsection and yank you back. A startled yelp escapes you as your back collides with Sanji's chest. For a moment, you're too stunned to even speak. He's always been touchy, but he's never crossed a line like this before. Your mind scrambles to figure out how to react when you feel one of his hands drift up and start rubbing up and down your ribcage as he nestles the side of his face against your hair. 
“You're so thin… I can trace every single one of your ribs through your clothing. I know you're hungry; you have to be. Take the lunch I made for you, won't you, dear? I hate watching you waste away like this. You're breaking my heart.” His words are hushed, murmured so quietly that you doubt you would have been able to hear him had his lips not been directly next to your ear. 
The worst part of this was the way his voice cracked in the last sentence. The foolish, naive part of your brain all but sang at this, desperately wanting to believe that someone cared about you. That someone wanted to see you get better and be happy. But then your rationality kicked back in. Sanji is just a player. He's only after one thing, and you know damn well that it isn't actually your heart. As soon as he gets what he wants, you'll be forgotten like every other woman that has come and gone in his life. 
He's just playing the long con with you, and he's using some really fucked up tactics to try and win. Your lips curl into a snarl, and you spin within his hold and violently shove him away from you. Surprise flashes across his face as he stumbles and has to grab onto the coat rack to keep himself upright. 
You want to scream at him. To cuss him out and ask how dare he try to manipulate and use you like this. But as tears burn at your eyes, you quickly retreat from the confrontation and run out of the building and to the sanctity of your car, locking the doors the second you get inside. 
For a moment, all you can do is sit there in silence as you process everything that just happened. Your head drops onto the steering wheel as a quiet sob leaves your throat. Why you? Why does he insist on tormenting you? Why does he have to keep fucking with you like this? You haven't done anything to him to deserve this. It didn't make any sense as to why he was so focused on you. It's not like you're the prettiest waitress here. There are plenty of better options. Like literally anyone else. Maybe this is all one big joke to him… maybe he's just waiting for you to cave and say yes to him so he can laugh in your face for being stupid enough to think that he would ever actually want someone like you.
You wipe at your face aggressively as you lean back and reach for your phone to check the time. Much to your chagrin, ten of your thirty minutes have already been wasted. Great. You sniffle as you lift up your thermos to unscrew the lid. Then a thought strikes you.
How did Sanji know exactly what you had in here? He said it like it was just a guess, but what were the odds that it actually was? Did… Did he check it? Did he go through your locker and open your thermos? Why? What was he hoping to gain from doing that? Was he really just that nosey, or was he up to something?
Should you even be drinking this? You purse your lips and hesitate to take the lid off. What if he did something to it? Would he do something like that?
You decide to twist off the cap and look. You swirl the broth around in the thermos while scrutinizing it. It didn't look like he spit in it… and there didn't appear to be anything in there that shouldn't be…
Part of you still wanted to open the car door and dump it out regardless, but the other part was more hesitant to do that. You really didn't want to do the rest of your shift on a completely empty stomach. If it didn't have at least something in it, you knew you would get dizzy, and that's not something you can be when you're carrying trays loaded with food and drinks. Besides, it's not like you had proof that Sanji had tampered with this. Maybe it really had just been a lucky guess. 
Tentatively, you take a sip. It doesn't taste off. You sigh deeply, then take another drink of it. There you go again being paranoid. Sanji’s persistence had just put you a little on edge, that's all. You're over thinking things. 
The rest of your break is spent scrolling through your phone as you sip at your lunch. Periodically, your eyes glance up at the employee only door, half expecting to see Sanji standing there and watching you, but you fortunately never see him. You can only hope that you shoving him finally got the point across.
When your break is over, you leave your car and trudge back to the restaurant, shivering slightly in the crisp, early winter air. You pry the door open and slip inside, hanging up your coat and haphazardly tossing your now empty thermos and phone into your locker before power walking past the kitchen and into the dining room, hoping to avoid potentially catching the sous chef's eye should he not be as put off as you were hoping.
Just as you're entering the main room, your head starts to spin. Shit. The power walking was too much, wasn't it? As covertly as you can, you shrink back and lean against the wall, waiting for your vision to clear. Dizzy spells aren't anything new for you. 
Your hand comes up to rub at your eyes as you try to will yourself to recover faster. Fuck… you feel so lightheaded. Are you going to faint? It's not usually this bad at work. 
“(Y/N)? Are you feeling alright?”
The gruff voice of your boss snaps you out of your fog. You cringe as you look up and see Zeff standing in front of you with his arms crossed. Well then, this was humiliating. Having him see you slacking off right after your break was not something you wanted to happen. In an attempt to save face, you force yourself to stand up straight, “E-Everything’s fine, sir! Nothing to worry about here!”
You push yourself away from the wall, fully intending to hightail it into the dining area to try and spare yourself from his wrath, but your dizzy spell hadn’t passed at all yet. Your knees buckle and your vision swirls from the sudden movement, and the next thing you know, you fall right into Zeff. His arms uncross and his hands clamp onto your shoulders to keep you from falling to the floor. Your ears are ringing, and you can only vaguely make out what he’s saying. Something about “taking it easy”?
Through your disoriented state, you can recognize that you’re being moved, practically carried, by your boss. If you were in a better state, you’re sure that your face would be flush with shame. You can feel yourself being lowered onto a chair. Even with you now being seated, Zeff kept one hand on your shoulder to keep you upright. He turned and called out across the kitchen, “Eggplant, bring some water over here!”
Eggplant? Oh no. Not him. You try to sit up straighter and make yourself look more put together, “No, I’m okay. You don’t have to-”
“Quiet. Don’t give me any of that. You almost fainted out there, you clearly aren’t ‘okay’,” Zeff’s tone was firm and left no room for argument. 
“(Y/N) almost fainted?!” Sanji rushed over and shoved the glass of water he had into Zeff’s hand before dropping to his knees at your side. His hand clutched yours tightly as he stared into your eyes with a distraught look on his face. “My sweet (Y/N), why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”
Any attempts to dislodge his hands prove fruitless, you can’t break his hold. You purse your lips and avert your eyes, not wanting to look at his expression that is so convincing that you almost believe it. “I said that I’m fine. I just got a little lightheaded. It’ll pass in a minute.” Despite your words, you don’t actually feel any better even though you’re sitting down and resting now.
Zeff sighs at your words and brings the glass of water to your lips for you since your hands are still locked in Sanji’s death grip. You drink the cool water, but it doesn’t feel like it’s really helping anything. He pulls the glass away and stares at you hard for a moment before speaking, “You’re taking the rest of the day off.”
“What?”
“It’s a slow night, the remaining waitstaff here will be more than enough to cover for you. I don’t want you working in this state, you’re just going to hurt yourself or one of the customers if you have another dizzy spell while you’re carrying something. Just go home and rest.” Zeff turns his head to look directly at Sanji, “Why don’t you give her a ride home?”
Panic surges through your veins, “N-No! I can drive myself home, that’s okay!”
The look that Zeff gives you is hard and makes you shut up instantly, “Don’t start. You’re going to get into an accident if you try to drive right now. Like I just said, it’s slow. We can afford to lose Sanji for the day. The kitchen will probably run smoother anyway.”
Sanji grumbles at that last comment, but for once, he doesn’t pounce at the opportunity to argue with his old man. Instead, he stands up and flashes you with a warm smile, “I’ll go pull my car up so you don’t have to walk as far. Just wait right here for me.” He leans down to kiss your hand before releasing it and leaving. You hate the way your heart fluttered at the simple display. Stupid heart falling for bullshit actions. 
While you wait, you sigh and slump back in the chair. Zeff had excused himself and exited the kitchen right after Sanji, presumably to let your coworkers know you weren’t coming back from your break today. The rest of the people in the kitchen were going about their job, but you caught a few of them sparing you concerned glances which only added to your embarrassment over the whole situation. You’re glad that you happen to have tomorrow off to help give them an extra day to forget about this ordeal.
The kitchen doors open again, and Sanji walks through them, wearing a light jacket and carrying yours. He helps you put on your coat, then pulls you to your feet. Almost immediately, your legs wobble and you instinctively latch onto him for support. What is going on with you? You’ve never had one of your dizzy spells hit you this hard. Before you can even begin to steady yourself and try again, you’re abruptly swept off your feet. The quick motion makes your head spin so much that it takes you a moment to register what is happening to you.
Mortification washes over you as you realize that Sanji just scooped you up into a bridal carry right in front of the entire kitchen. You squirm in his arms while uttering out weak protests as Sanji casually kicks open the swinging doors to the kitchen and walks out, seemingly completely unbothered by carrying you. You look up at him as your vision rapidly becomes more and more hazy. His expression is completely relaxed as if nothing is wrong. 
His apparent confidence wasn’t spread to you, however. Something about this felt… wrong. You’ve never felt like this before, and you were starting to get scared. What if this was something more serious than you previously thought? Were you having a medical emergency right now?
As Sanji is placing you into the passenger seat of his car, you grab onto his arm while he’s trying to buckle your seatbelt, “Sanji… I don’t feel good.”
The smile that had been plastered onto his face since Zeff told him to take you home softened into a warmer, more comforting smile. He finishes buckling you in and strokes your hair, “I know, but don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you.”
“N… No,” your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, making speaking even harder. “Hos… pital.”
The seat you’re in is reclined so that you’re laying down. Sanji stands up straight. You can feel that he’s looking at you, but your vision is so blurry that you can’t make out his face anymore. He doesn’t acknowledge your request to go to the hospital. He closes the door, and everything goes black before he can walk around and open his own.
When your consciousness begins to flow back into you, you find yourself in the warm comfort of your bed. You sigh in contentment and lazily nuzzle your face into your pillow. The cool silk of the pillowcase felt heavenly on your skin.
… Silk?
Didn’t you have some cheap microfiber sheets on your bed? You sniff at the pillow and frown. You know for a fact that your bedding doesn’t smell like men’s cologne and tobacco.
Your senses come back to you in an instant as you lurch up into a sitting position. Your eyes frantically take in your surroundings, and dread fills your being. You’re in a small bedroom. There are several bookshelves lining the walls. A chair with a small side table are placed near them like some sort of simple reading nook. There’s a desk against the wall opposite of you with a laptop sitting on it.
You don’t recognize this room. It isn’t yours, and this definitely isn’t a hospital.
Looking down, you take in the bed you’re in. It’s a queen size bed that’s been pushed into the corner of the room, with you being on the side closest to the wall. A body pillow is placed against the wall, keeping you separated from it. Several blankets are piled on top of you. You raise your arms to throw off the blankets, but something halts your movement. 
Your hands jerk back abruptly, making you wince as something tugs on your wrists and the headboard clangs behind you. You look down, and what you see makes your blood run cold.
Handcuffs. There are padded handcuffs locked around each of your wrists. Your eyes follow the chains all the way back to the headboard. Oh fuck. 
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck 
You’re going to die. You’re going to die here! Horror encompasses you fully as the gravity of your situation. Where even were you? And who did this? What kind of a monster could do something like this to you?
Think! Where were you before you passed out? It takes a moment for your memory to return to you but when it does, everything clicks into place. Sanji. You were in Sanji’s car. Did he do this? Sure, he could be a little sleazy, but you never took him for a kidnapper. And why you? What was his fucking obsession with you? What was he going to do to you?
No. You weren’t going to die like this. You weren’t going to let yourself be toyed with, murdered, and discarded by your sick freak of a coworker! Maybe you can break yourself free if you could just snap the wood you’re chained to. The chains connecting you to the headboard are long, permitting a wide range of motion to you. You’ll put your feet against the headboard and pull as hard as you can.
With a plan in mind, you shift to pull your legs up, but again, your movements are halted. You grab the blankets and yank them up only to reveal the very same handcuffs around your ankles. Experimentally, you pull on them. The footboard barely even budges. These chains are much shorter than the ones on your wrists, not giving you any chance to build up any sort of momentum. Just like that, your hope dies.
As you’re sitting there, completely demoralized, you take note of something else. You aren’t wearing your work clothes anymore. Instead, you’ve been dressed in a cozy pajama set. Even your regular socks have been replaced with fuzzy ones.
Shame and disgust courses through you upon realizing that you had been undressed while you were unconscious. At the same time, you couldn’t help but feel confused. It’s not like you’ve ever been kidnapped before, but this didn’t seem normal. Whenever you would hear about true crime cases covering people being abducted, you never heard about the kidnapper putting them in comfy clothes and a warm bed. 
What the hell was going on? 
You’re torn from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming towards you. Your head snaps up and you instinctively press yourself back against the headboard. Your eyes lock onto the door and you stare at it like a scared, cornered animal. Which is pretty much exactly what you are.
The door opens, and your theory as to who it was is confirmed instantly. Sanji’s smiling face enters the room, filling you with a combination of anger and fear. His grin widens even more as his eyes land on you, “Oh good, you’re awake. That’s perfect.” He hums happily and walks over to the bed with absolutely no sense of urgency. He sets a steaming bowl down on the bedside table as his eyes run over your body. “That’s no good, you’re going to get cold, sweetheart.” He calmly pulls the blankets back over you, then moves the pillows on the bed so that they’re behind your back. 
You cringe away from him as his hands brush against your back, and you snap at him, “Don’t touch me!”
Sanji’s smile droops and morphs into a pout, “Don’t be like that, (Y/N). I’m just trying to make you more comfortable.”
The way that he is blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room was really pissing you off. “Comfortable? Comfortable?! You know what would make me more comfortable?! Not being fucking kidnapped!” 
Your kidnapper has the audacity to sigh at you. “I’m doing this for your own good. You forced my hand. I didn’t have a choice.”
“What are you talking about?! Of course you had a choice! You could have chosen not to kidnap me!”
“You had a choice, too. It didn’t have to be this way, you know?” By now, his smile is completely gone. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and slips one into his mouth before lighting it.
His casual demeanor only further fueled your ire, “I beg your fucking pardon?”
“I said that you also had a choice,” he exhales smoke into the air. “If you would have just taken that lunch I made for you, we wouldn’t have had to take this route.”
“What?”
“If you would have eaten the lunch that I made for you, you wouldn’t have drank the broth, and you never would have gotten so dizzy that you had to go home.” You freeze as his words sink in. “We could have done things the easy way, but you’re just so stubborn, aren’t you? But that’s okay. I think that this is for the better. Now I can monitor your recovery much more closely than I could have if we were apart.”
“You drugged me…” The words are little more than a whisper.
“Don’t put it like that, you’re making me sound like a scoundrel. A predator, even! I just… gave you something to help bring us together so I can take care of you. This is what you need. You’ve made it clear that you can’t take care of yourself on your own.”
Your fists clutch at the blankets covering you as you hiss at him, “Take care of me? You’ve got a really twisted way of going about doing that. How is this helping me?”
“This is helping you because I’m going to nurse you back to health. I know that you’ve been starving yourself. Everyone can tell. You’re wasting away right before us and making everyone watch as you slowly and painfully kill yourself.” Sanji’s voice cracks and he drops his head. Your eyes drift down when you hear the quiet drip drip drip of tears falling onto the duvet. “Do you have any idea how much it’s hurt me? You’re killing me just as much as yourself.”
One of Sanji’s hands reaches out and cups your cheek, forcing you to look him in the eye again. Forcing you to fully take in the state he’s in. There is so much pain and despair in his eyes. He looks absolutely miserable. This isn’t an act. He isn’t fucking with you. He means every single word coming out of his mouth. His thumb rubbed against your cheek, just beneath your sunken eye as he holds your face just a little too tightly. He speaks again in a choked-up, desperate tone, “I love you so much, (Y/N). I don’t want to watch you die.”
All you can do is stare at him as your mind runs at a thousand miles a second to try and process all of the information being thrown at it. Wasn’t this… what you wanted? Proof that Sanji actually cared about you. That you weren’t just a conquest, but a legitimate desire. He says he loves you, and you genuinely don’t think you can argue against that, but…
Not like this. This isn’t how you wanted this to happen. You wanted a heartfelt confession, but not when you were cuffed to his bed after being drugged and kidnapped. This was insane. He was insane. And you were trapped with him.
Sanji releases your face and clears his throat as he pulls back with a forced smile, “Apologies. Look at me getting all emotional when I’m supposed to be caring for you.” He plucked the bowl off the nightstand and started to stir the mixture together. “I made some congee for you. I thought that this would be a nice and filling meal for your poor stomach.”
The mention of food made you recoil, and not just for the usual reason. You glare at Sanji and ask, “What’s in it?”
He beams at the question, “Well, I cooked the rice in a dashi broth- homemade of course- and I’ve got some salmon and-”
You interrupt him, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. What did you put in my food this time?”
Realization flashes across his face and he sags, “It’s just food, my love. I promise that I won’t drug you again. I just had to do it that one time so I could get you here.”
“Do you expect me to believe that? To trust you after what you’ve done?”
“Please, (Y/N), you have to believe me. Did you not hear everything I just said? I’m doing this for your own good. I can’t help you get better if you’re unconscious the whole time. Just calm down and let me feed you before your food gets cold.” While he started off sounding sweet and pleading, his voice became progressively more firm as he went on. With a quiet huff, he sits down on the empty bed space next to you and scoops out a spoonful of the rice porridge.
Terrified of being drugged and vulnerable again, your hand swipes at him, just barely missing the spoon as he jerks back. Surprise flashes across his face, but quickly morphs into a scowl. He drops the spoon back into the bowl, then grabs your face again. You start to struggle, but you’re no match for his strength in your current state.
“Stop.” The one word is spoken with so much force that it actually makes you stop and stare at him with wide eyes. He sighs deeply and his teeth grind against his cigarette as he makes himself calm down. “(Y/N). My dear, sweet (Y/N). I went out of my way to give you handcuffs that were long enough for you to move around for your comfort, but if you try to stop me from feeding you again, I’m going to change them out for much shorter ones that won’t let you move at all. Is that what you want?”
You shake your head and cower back. 
“Good. I don’t want that either. Now say ‘ah’ for me, alright?” Just like that, he switches again, sweetly crooning at you as he brings the spoon back to your lips. 
As much as you don’t want to eat it… you don’t want to be even more restricted than you already are. Hesitantly, you open your mouth. Sanji’s smile widens as he quickly pushes the spoon past your lips. The savory porridge fills your mouth and, admittedly, tastes divine. It’s the best thing you’ve had in months… maybe even years.
You carefully chew, then swallow it. The voice in the back of your head is going crazy, screaming over all of the carbs and fat in that one single bite. But before you can dwell on it too much, another spoonful is brought to your lips. Your eyes flit up to Sanji who is looking at you with an expectant smile. 
Well… you suppose that your food intake is no longer in your power. You have to eat if you want to keep Sanji happy and passive. You open your mouth again.
“Good, there’s my good girl.” Sanji looks happier than you think you’ve ever seen him. His smile lacks the playful edge it usually has to it, and his normally aloof eyes are relaxed in a way that makes him look almost soft despite the situation. “I know that you’re upset, and I understand that. This is all very shocking to you, but one day, you’re going to thank me for this. I guarantee it.”
“Honestly, you should have seen this coming. At the Baratie, we feed everyone who is hungry. Even if they don’t necessarily want us to.”
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q-u-x · 8 days ago
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Not me purposely messing up my sleep schedule, sleeping at 11 pm, waking up at 3:30 am, exercising till 7 am, walking to school without eating breakfast or lunch, walk back home while also going thru different routes in order to reach my goal step count, reaching home, falling asleep, waking up during dinner time, making excuses to not eat, sleeping.
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loveskixxy-love · 2 years ago
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nah but the feeling when your thighs finally stop touching is priceless
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fa1ryc4y · 2 months ago
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are you really hungry or are you just bored?
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littlelilaclina · 3 months ago
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when someone is less than nice to me i think, if i was skinny and pretty, they would treat me better. this keeps me from taking anything personally and i feel a lot better knowing i’m not only working to be beautiful and skinny, i’m also working to be treated better.
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beanghostprincess · 1 year ago
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I love it when people draw Sanji like he's had only one hour of sleep (it was a nightmare), skinny, smoking, with eyebags, messy hair, shirt untied, and like he's about to have a breakdown over his own reflection in the bathroom mirror because he can't recognize himself
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extorsiian · 6 months ago
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An unrelated and slightly unhinged vent
As a community, could we all agree to stop romanticizing or at least de romanticize them as well. After returning to other Ed comms like the ones on amino, disc, yt, twt I'm realizing this shit is actually getting outta hand to the point where people have started faking eds bc they think it's like cute or quirky or something.
Me passing out whilst trying to walk to the fucking bathroom is not cute nor quirky. Doesn't matter what illness/disorder you may have, let's just not try and not for one, take the awareness for people with the actual disorders AWAY. Two, make it seem like thats something you should want. Nobody wants to not be able to move their bowels for a week straight, simply bc they arent eating.
Stand the fuck up, and shut the fuck up, this is reality, this not one of your fucking reality TV shows, it's not scripted it's not fake, this is NOT Euphoria please sit down somewhere
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hannahbarberra162 · 2 months ago
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Imagine Sanji confronting you over your disordered eating (angst / comfort drabble)
TW: disordered eating talk, eating disorders
This isn't what I think *should* be done, but I think this is what Sanji would do.
Implied F reader but M readers can be Mellorines too :3
For a friend : )
“May I ask you something?” the blonde chef queried while preparing for the next meal. Sanji was in the kitchen, chopping onions, carrots and celery for whatever it was he was making for dinner. He looked how he always did when preparing food in his typical doskoi panda apron and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You turned to him, glass in hand, as you stood by the clean water barrel in the galley to get another drink. 
“Of course, what’s up?” You were  a little taken aback by Sanji’s tone and choice of words. Usually he was swooning over you, Robin, and Nami, literally. He always spoke honeyed words to you, complementing your outfit, or intelligence, or bravery, anything he could think of. He was quick with a pet name, calling you Mellorine or Angel, or some name in French. But off the top of your head you could not remember a time when he spoke to you so seriously.
“Is there something I can change about my cooking? Something that you would like more?” he asks, setting down the knife on the cutting board. You knit your brows together in confusion.
“No? I love your cooking, it’s the best food I’ve ever had. Maybe I should tell you more often,” you said with a smile. You complimented his cooking every time you ate, it was incomparable to meals you’d had before you met him.
“You tell me enough, mon ange. Then how can I get you to eat more regularly?” he said, lighting a cigarette as he moved closer to you.
“W-what do you mean? I eat with everyone,” you stuttered out, backing away with every step he took closer.
“Mm. You eat some food with us, sure. Not much, a few bites here and there. But you prefer eating alone in your room or late at night when no one is watching, no? Or long stretches with no food and then a lot of food at all at once, yes?” Your anger rose as quickly as your shame while your cheeks flooded with red.
“What the fuck, Sanji? You’ve been watching me eat?” you said, gripping the glass in your hand tighter with every word.
“I watch everyone eat, I keep a close eye on food waste. I know everyone’s food preferences, it comes with the territory of being a chef,” he explained, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke to the side to avoid getting on your clothes.
“Well it sounds like you have an eating disorder then. That’s not normal and don’t fucking talk to me about -” you puffed up, ready to ream out the chef, wanting him to drop this topic immediately. You had absolutely no desire to talk about your eating habits with anyone, much less someone who apparently watched what you consumed like a hawk.
“Chopper says I have disordered eating but not an eating disorder,” Sanji said matter-of-factly. 
“Oh,” was all you could say in response, floored by his casual admission of something so personal. You didn’t think anyone else on the crew had any issues like yours, everyone seemed so…perfect. 
“There’s a few reasons why, but it’s something I’m dealing with. Every day, really. It can be freeing to reclaim some of your life. You don’t realize how much brain space it consumes until some of it is dealt with. I’m happy to talk to you about it, you might consider -” You cut Sanji off, not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence. 
“Just leave me the fuck alone and stop watching what I eat! Don’t talk about this to me again…just…SHUT UP!” you finished with a childish insult, tears forming in your eyes. Sanji gave you a kind look, his eyes crinkling with a small smile and took your glass from your hand. Refilling it with water for you, he handed it back while an errant tear rolled down your hot face. 
“If you ever want to talk, I’m here to listen,” Sanji said, resuming his position in the kitchen. 
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strawberriette · 1 day ago
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coffee? coffee ✓
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ijustwannabeprettyyy · 2 years ago
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i just want to get to the point where being hungry becomes better than eating
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