Time Slayer. Check My Art Blog

You were the Straw Hats' anchor, their soft landing, the one who always had a kind word or a gentle touch. You'd often find yourself leaned against Zoro's side during his naps, a comfortable silence stretching between you as the ship swayed. Nami would frequently seek you out on deck, sharing her latest mapping ideas or simply enjoying the sunset together, a rare vulnerability in her usually guarded demeanor. Usopp would spin his wildest tales to you, knowing you'd listen with genuine fascination, your laughter always his favorite reward. Even the usually reserved Robin would sometimes share a quiet moment, a knowing glance passing between you that spoke volumes. And then there was Chopper, who’d often be found nestled in your lap, his tiny hooves gently kneading your clothes as you stroked his fur. You loved them all, each in their own unique way, a vital thread in the vibrant tapestry of the Straw Hat Pirates.

But with Sanji? That was a different story entirely. From the moment you’d stepped aboard, there had been an undeniable pull, a current that drew you both together. You loved everything about him: the way his perpetually swirly eyebrow twitched when he was deep in thought, the passionate fire in his eyes when he spoke of food, the almost theatrical flourish with which he presented even the simplest dish, the surprising gentleness of his hands when they weren't busy flipping ingredients or fighting, the way he'd fuss over everyone's meals, making sure each bite was perfect. You loved his chivalry, even when it was over the top, and the unexpected moments of seriousness that would flash across his face. You loved the little hum he’d make when he was pleased, and the way he’d light up a cigarette, the smoke curling around his impossibly handsome face. You loved his unwavering loyalty, his fierce protectiveness, and even his occasional dramatics. You loved the way he moved, with a dancer's grace, whether in the kitchen or in a fight. You simply loved him.

You two were inseparable. When he was in the kitchen, you were right there beside him, learning to chop vegetables with his precision, or just silently peeling fruit while he orchestrated his culinary masterpieces. You'd often find yourselves on the deck late into the night, sharing hushed conversations under the stars, or simply leaning against the railing, the rhythmic creak of the ship the only sound. When the world seemed to turn upside down, as it so often did on the Grand Line, you two were a singular unit. If a nightmare jolted him awake, you’d be there, a comforting presence beside him, stroking his hair until the terror receded. And when your own sleep was shattered by dark dreams, it was his warm embrace that would pull you back from the brink, his whispered reassurances chasing away the shadows. You were each other’s calm in the storm, a steadfast, unyielding comfort in a chaotic world.

Your love for Sanji wasn't a sudden, blinding flash, but rather a slow, steady burn, deepening with every shared laugh, every quiet moment, every crisis weathered together. It was in the way his presence alone could soothe the frayed edges of your nerves after a particularly harrowing encounter. It was in the unconscious way your hand would seek his when the ship rocked violently, or in the easy comfort of his arm slung around your shoulders during a rare, peaceful evening on deck. You found yourself cataloging every one of his gestures, every expression: the soft crinkle around his eyes when he genuinely smiled, the rare, almost shy glance he'd cast your way when he thought no one was looking, the firm, reassuring squeeze of his hand when you were worried.

You'd catch yourself staring, sometimes, as he moved around the kitchen, a blur of motion and passion, and a warmth would bloom in your chest. It wasn't just admiration for his skill; it was a profound appreciation for the dedication he poured into every aspect of his life, especially his cooking. You loved watching him explain a dish, his voice filled with an almost poetic reverence for the ingredients. And when he'd present you with a plate, specifically made to your liking, a small, knowing smile on his lips, your heart would ache with a sweetness that was almost overwhelming.

There were moments, too, when the lightheartedness would fade, and you'd glimpse the deeper currents within him. When the crew faced a truly grim situation, or when his past weighed heavily on his mind, you saw a vulnerability that he rarely showed to others. In those times, your love for him solidified into something fierce and protective. You wanted to shield him from every hurt, to be his unwavering support, just as he was yours. The thought of a future without him, without his quick wit, his passionate spirit, his surprisingly tender touch, felt like staring into an empty sea. Your world, it seemed, had become inextricably linked with his, a delicious, exhilarating entanglement you wouldn't trade for anything.

The decision settled within you like a quiet certainty, a gentle hum beneath the surface of your usual camaraderie with Sanji. Today was the day. The thought both exhilarated and terrified you. Each time you tried to find the right moment, however, the chaotic energy of the Thousand Sunny seemed to conspire against you.

The first attempt was during breakfast. He was bustling around the galley, plates flying, a symphony of clanking dishes and sizzling pans. You’d leaned against the doorway, trying to catch his eye, your heart pounding a nervous rhythm against your ribs. "Sanji," you started, but just then Luffy bellowed for more meat, and Sanji was swept away in a flurry of frantic activity, your words lost in the clamor.

Later, you found him on deck, meticulously polishing his shoes. The sea breeze ruffled his golden hair, and for a moment, the usual boisterousness of the ship seemed to fade. This was it, you thought. You approached him, taking a deep breath. "Sanji, there's something I really need to—" But before you could finish, Nami called for his assistance with some navigational charts, her voice sharp and urgent. With an apologetic glance, he hurried off, leaving you standing alone with the unspoken words hanging in the air.

The day wore on, each failed attempt adding to the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach. You tried again during his afternoon smoke break on the deck, but Usopp and Chopper joined him, launching into a boisterous recounting of their latest "brave" adventure. You even considered interrupting him while he was cooking dinner, a sacred ritual, but the sheer intensity of his focus deterred you.

Finally, as the stars began to pepper the inky sky, a sense of quiet descended upon the Sunny. The gentle rocking of the ship was almost lulling, and the air was cool and crisp. You found Sanji leaning against the railing on the upper deck, a familiar silhouette against the starlit expanse, the orange glow of his cigarette tip a tiny beacon in the darkness.

Hesitantly, you approached him, the familiar scent of smoke and his subtle cologne filling your senses. You stood beside him, the silence stretching for a comfortable moment before a fresh wave of nervousness washed over you. You could feel your palms sweating, and your throat felt tight.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, the ember momentarily illuminating his profile. He looked peaceful, lost in thought. This was it. No more delaying.

Taking another deep breath, you turned slightly towards him, your gaze fixed on the vast, twinkling universe above. "Sanji," you began, your voice a little shaky, "I... I need to tell you something. Something important."

He turned his head, his brow slightly raised in silent inquiry, the cigarette still held loosely between his lips. He waited patiently, his gaze steady on yours.

You gathered all your courage, the culmination of all those unspoken feelings finally finding their way to your lips. "Sanji," you said, your voice gaining a bit more strength, your eyes locking with his in the soft starlight. "I... I'm in love with you."

The words hung in the cool night air, a confession laid bare under the silent witness of the stars. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the Sunny and the soft creak of the ship. Sanji remained still, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He didn't speak, didn't move, the cigarette slowly burning between his fingers. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, amplifying the frantic beating of your heart as you waited for his response.

The silence stretched, agonizing and thick, under the indifferent gaze of the stars. You watched him, your breath held tight in your chest, waiting for any sign, any movement, any flicker of emotion in his usually expressive face. The cigarette glowed, a tiny, defiant ember in the dim light. And then, he took it from his lips, exhaled a plume of smoke into the night, and his voice, when it finally came, was soft, almost a whisper, yet it struck you with the force of a physical blow.

"I can't, Y/N."

The words hung in the air, simple, definitive, and utterly devastating. Your heart, which had been pounding a frantic drumbeat moments before, seemed to simply drop, sinking into a cold, empty chasm within you. The gentle rocking of the Sunny suddenly felt violent, the night air sharp and biting. You wanted to ask why, to plead, to demand an explanation, but no sound would escape your constricted throat. His gaze, usually so warm and inviting, was now distant, unreadable.

He turned back to the railing, his back partially to you, and took another slow drag of his cigarette. It was a clear dismissal, a silent wall erected between you. The intimacy of the moment, the closeness you had always shared, fractured into a thousand pieces. The air between you, once so comfortable and familiar, was now thick with unspoken words and the crushing weight of rejection.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the reality of his words slowly, painfully, setting in. There was nothing more to say, nothing more to do. The hope that had blossomed so brightly in your chest withered and died in an instant. Without another word, you turned and walked away, the gentle creak of the deckboards beneath your feet a mournful counterpoint to the shattering of your own heart. Each step felt heavy, leading you further from the man you loved, and deeper into a silence that now felt colder than the ocean itself. You didn't know where you were going, only that you needed to be somewhere, anywhere, but there.

The night air, once a comforting caress, now felt like a frigid embrace as you stumbled away from Sanji. Every step was a dull ache, a physical manifestation of the chasm that had just ripped open inside you. Your confession, so bravely delivered, had been met with a quiet, undeniable "no," and the reverberations of that single word echoed in the empty chambers of your heart.

A cold wave of numbness washed over you first, a desperate attempt by your mind to shield itself from the raw, searing pain. You felt strangely detached, as if watching a scene unfold from a distance. Was that really your voice, so vulnerable, so exposed? And was that really Sanji, his back turned, leaving you to drown in the silence?

But the numbness was a fragile dam, and behind it, a torrent of grief began to swell. It wasn't the dramatic, weeping kind of grief, but a quiet, insidious ache that settled deep in your bones. It was the grief of a future unwritten, of whispered dreams that would now never see the light of day. Every shared laugh, every comfortable silence, every moment of intertwined closeness with him suddenly felt tainted, replaying in your mind with a new, cruel filter. Had you imagined it all? Had your feelings blinded you to the reality of your relationship?

Then came the humiliation, hot and stinging. To lay your heart bare, only for it to be gently, but firmly, pushed away. You felt exposed, foolish, as if you had worn your deepest secret on your sleeve for all the world to see, only to be met with polite indifference. You wanted to crawl into the darkest corner of the ship, to vanish completely, to escape the memory of his quiet rejection.

Beneath it all was a terrifying sense of loss. Sanji wasn't just a crush; he was your closest confidant, your anchor in the chaotic world of the Straw Hats. The thought of facing him now, of navigating the unspoken awkwardness that would surely settle between you, was unbearable. How could you go back to helping him in the kitchen, to sharing quiet moments on deck, knowing that your heart held a secret he didn't reciprocate? The very foundation of your most cherished friendship felt shattered, leaving you adrift and profoundly alone under the vast, uncaring expanse of the night sky.

Sanji watched your retreating figure disappear into the shadows of the Thousand Sunny, the glowing tip of his cigarette the only witness to the turmoil raging within him. Your confession, those simple, powerful words – "I'm in love with you" – had hit him like a physical blow, simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. He loved you. God, he loved you with a ferocity that surprised even himself. Every kind word, every shared laugh, every quiet moment of understanding you offered was a treasure he guarded fiercely. He loved your unwavering kindness, the way you effortlessly connected with everyone on the crew, your gentle nature that somehow managed to be incredibly strong. He loved the way you looked at him when he cooked, that genuine fascination that made his heart swell.

But saying "no" had been a knee-jerk reaction, a bitter taste in his mouth even as the word left his lips. It wasn't because he didn't feel the same. It was because the raw, unadulterated fear that had coiled in his gut for years had suddenly tightened its grip. The ghost of his past, the haunting specter of Zeff's sacrifice, the constant, gnawing anxiety of losing those he cared for – it all surged to the forefront. He'd seen firsthand the devastating price of love and attachment, the agony of watching someone give everything for him. He couldn't, wouldn't, put you through that. He couldn't bear the thought of you ever having to face danger, or worse, make a sacrifice for him. His deepest, most primal instinct was to protect you, and in his twisted logic, that meant keeping you at arm's length, even from his own heart.

He took another drag, the smoke bitter on his tongue. He could still feel the warmth of your presence beside him, the vulnerable hope in your eyes. He’d seen the pain flash across your face as he spoke, and it had twisted a knife in his own chest. He wanted to pull you back, to explain, to confess his own overwhelming feelings. He wanted to tell you how much your "I love you" meant, how it had simultaneously shattered and healed parts of him he didn't even know were broken. But the words had frozen in his throat, choked by the fear of what loving you truly meant – the potential for loss, for heartbreak, for the kind of pain he'd sworn he'd never inflict on anyone he cared for again.

He stood there for a long time, the cigarette burning down to its filter, the night air growing colder. He had pushed you away, the person he cherished most, all because he was a coward. A silent, desperate ache settled in his chest, a stark contrast to the lively, boisterous Sanji the crew knew. He had traded your love for what he perceived as your safety, but the silence that now enveloped him felt anything but safe. It felt empty, vast, and terrifyingly lonely.

You found yourself leaning against the mast, the rough wood digging into your back, but you barely noticed. The numbness had begun to recede, leaving behind a raw, exposed nerve. Every breath felt shallow, every sound on the ship amplified and distorted. The once comforting creak of the Thousand Sunny's timbers now sounded like a mournful sigh, mirroring the desolation in your own heart.

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to erase the image of his unreadable face, his quiet "I can't, Y/N." But it was seared into your mind, a brand of rejection that burned with a cold fire. All those shared moments, the late-night talks, the comfortable silences, the easy camaraderie – they now felt like a cruel deception. Had you misread everything so completely? Had your own feelings conjured a connection that never truly existed on his end? The thought was a bitter pill, difficult to swallow.

A profound loneliness settled over you, a heavy cloak in the vast expanse of the ocean. Even surrounded by your chosen family, the Straw Hats, you felt utterly isolated. How could you face them tomorrow, knowing this secret heartbreak? How could you look Sanji in the eye, pretend that nothing had changed, when your world had just been irrevocably altered? The very thought of his presence, once the source of so much joy, now brought a sharp pang of dread. The ease you once shared was gone, replaced by an insurmountable wall. You had bared your soul, and in return, you had been left with nothing but the echoes of a love unrequited, a future you had dared to dream of, now irrevocably shattered.

The morning wore on, the usual boisterous energy of the Straw Hats filling the galley, but for you, it was a finely tuned performance of pretending. You tried to focus on Chopper's excited ramblings about a new medicinal plant Robin had pointed out, or Nami’s exasperated sighs at Luffy’s bottomless pit of a stomach. But your awareness was a constant hum, attuned to Sanji’s presence.

He moved past your seat, heading for the stove with a stack of empty plates. As he reached to grab a new batch of pancakes, his hand brushed against your arm. It was a fleeting contact, no more than a whisper of skin on skin, but it was enough. You flinched, a tiny, almost imperceptible jerk, pulling your arm away as if scalded.

Sanji’s movements faltered. He paused, his back to you, the plates clattering slightly in his hand. The easy flow of his culinary dance had been broken. He turned his head just enough for you to catch his gaze over his shoulder. His usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by a strained neutrality. Your eyes met his for a fraction of a second, and in that brief connection, you both saw it: the abrupt, jarring distance that had replaced your usual closeness. The warmth that had always flowed between you had curdled into something cold and brittle.

The shift was immediate. The lively chatter around the table didn't stop entirely, but it certainly dimmed. Luffy, ever oblivious to subtle cues, simply paused mid-chew, his eyes wide as he looked from you to Sanji and back again. Usopp dropped his fork with a clatter, his mouth agape. Even Zoro, who often seemed to exist in his own drowsy world, cracked open one eye, sensing the sudden chill in the air.

“What was that, Y/N? Did you get burnt?” Chopper piped up, his innocent curiosity cutting through the sudden tension like a knife. His wide, earnest eyes looked from your stiff posture to Sanji’s rigid back.

You felt a flush creep up your neck. Your mind raced, scrambling for an excuse, any excuse, to diffuse the situation. Before you could even formulate a response, Sanji’s voice, sharper than usual, sliced through the air.

“No, Chopper-kun. Y/N-chan is fine. I just… almost dropped the plates.” His voice was clipped, a stark contrast to his usual melodic tone when addressing you. He didn’t turn fully, his back still partially towards the table as he resumed his work with a renewed, almost frantic, energy.

The excuse was flimsy, even for the Straw Hats. The atmosphere remained thick, laced with an unspoken question. You kept your eyes fixed on your plate, pushing a pancake around with your fork, acutely aware of the curious glances, the knowing looks that were now being exchanged around the table. The breakfast, once a lively communal affair, had become a public dissection of the sudden, undeniable rift between you and Sanji.

The breakfast incident was just the first tremor. As the days bled into a new, unsettling rhythm on the Thousand Sunny, the crew, despite their varying levels of perceptiveness, couldn't help but notice the profound shift in the dynamic between Y/N and Sanji.

It began with the small things, the almost imperceptible changes that, when accumulated, painted a stark picture. Sanji's usual flamboyant greetings to you – the twirls, the heartfelt "Y/N-chan! My darling!" – had vanished. Now, they were replaced by a polite, almost formal "Good morning, Y/N," delivered with a brief, unseeing nod. And you, who had always met his theatrics with a fond smile or a playful retort, now simply offered a strained "Good morning, Sanji," often averting your gaze.

The most glaring difference was in the galley. You, who had been his most constant companion in the kitchen, meticulously prepping vegetables, sharing quiet conversations over the sizzle of pans, or simply being a comforting presence, were rarely there anymore. You’d find excuses: needing to help Nami with charts, offering to mend Usopp’s latest contraption, or even spending extra time with Robin in the library. When you did enter the galley for meals, you’d choose a seat as far from Sanji as possible, and the easy banter that once flowed between you two had dried up completely.

Luffy, in his usual innocent bluntness, was often the first to comment. "Hey, Sanji! Y/N's not helping you cook anymore? Your food's still super good, but it's weird!" Sanji would just offer a tight-lipped smile and mumble something about you being busy, while you would busily focus on your plate, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

Chopper and Usopp were equally confused. "Y/N, why don't you sit next to Sanji anymore? You always used to!" Chopper might ask, genuinely puzzled. You’d usually manage a mumbled excuse about liking your current seat, or needing to be closer to someone else for a conversation.

Even Zoro, despite his constant naps, picked up on the tension. He'd occasionally open an eye to observe the subtle but significant distance between you two. He noticed how Sanji’s usual doting attention towards you had changed to a guarded professionalism, and how your normally open and warm demeanor towards him had become reserved, almost wary. He rarely commented, but a shrewd glint in his eye suggested he was watching, putting the pieces together.

Nami and Robin, with their sharper social instincts, noticed it immediately and more profoundly. Nami would sometimes catch your eye, a silent question passing between you, but you'd quickly look away, your usual openness replaced by a shuttered expression. Robin's usual serene smile would often dim when she observed the interactions, or lack thereof, between you and Sanji. They saw the way Sanji's usual fiery passion seemed a little muted when you were in the room, and how your radiant warmth seemed to dim whenever he was near. The crew's favorite dynamic duo, their closest friends, were suddenly acting like polite strangers, and the Thousand Sunny, for all its adventurous spirit, felt a little colder, a little less like home, because of it.

The initial sting of Sanji's rejection lingered, a dull throb in your chest that refused to fully dissipate. Days bled into weeks, and the forced cordiality between you and the cook remained, an unspoken tension that permeated the galley and the deck. Yet, beneath the surface of that lingering ache, something else, remarkably, began to stir. Very, very slowly, almost imperceptibly, your heart began its long, arduous process of healing.

It wasn't a sudden, dramatic shift. There were still moments, a familiar scent from the galley, a glimpse of his blond head, that would send a fresh pang of sadness through you. But these moments became less frequent, their intensity diminishing over time. You started to find comfort in the smaller joys of life on the Thousand Sunny, appreciating the warmth of the sun on your skin, the salt spray on your face, the familiar rhythm of the waves.

You began to lean more heavily on the other Straw Hats, seeking solace and distraction in their unique personalities. You spent more time with Nami, poring over maps and discussing fashion, her pragmatic realism a grounding force. You’d listen to Usopp’s wild tales with genuine laughter, finding a simple joy in his boundless imagination. Robin’s quiet wisdom became a soothing balm, her calm presence a welcome respite from the turmoil within. You played more games with Chopper, letting his pure, unadulterated innocence remind you of the simple happiness in the world. Even Franky’s super enthusiasm and Brook’s musical antics provided a much-needed lightness.

Perhaps most surprisingly, it was your bond with Zoro that deepened the most during this time. The swordsman, usually a man of few words and frequent naps, became an unexpected source of quiet comfort. You found yourself gravitating towards him more and more.

You'd often find him in his usual spot, leaning against the mast or stretched out on the deck, either meditating or lost in one of his famous naps. Instead of trying to engage him in conversation, you'd simply settle down nearby, sometimes with a book, other times just gazing out at the endless ocean. There was no pressure to talk, no need for explanations. His presence was a solid, unwavering anchor in your turbulent emotional sea.

One afternoon, you were watching the clouds drift by, feeling particularly restless. Zoro, who you thought was asleep, mumbled without opening his eyes, "Still can't figure out the damn direction, huh?"

You let out a small, surprised laugh. "Something like that," you admitted, a rare moment of honesty escaping you.

He shifted slightly, and you felt a warmth spread from his shoulder, which was now just barely touching yours. "It gets easier," he grunted, his voice rough but not unkind. "Or you just stop caring as much."

He didn't pry, didn't offer platitudes. He simply understood, in his own quiet way, that you were hurting and that time was the only true healer. You found yourself sharing these silent moments more and more, the simple act of existing beside him a profound comfort. There were no expectations, no complicated dynamics, just a steady, reassuring presence that allowed you to slowly, gently, start putting the pieces of your heart back together.

The bond with Zoro continued to deepen, but it was a comfortable, platonic closeness, built on shared silences and an unspoken understanding. There was no flutter of nerves, no racing heartbeat when you were near him. Instead, there was a steady calm, a sense of being truly seen without having to explain anything. You’d often find yourself handing him a cool drink after a particularly strenuous training session, and he’d offer a grunt of thanks, perhaps even a rare, small smile that never quite reached his eyes. Sometimes, he’d absentmindedly lean his head on your shoulder during one of his naps, and you’d simply let him, feeling the solid weight of him, a tangible reminder of a friendship that required nothing but presence.

You found yourself laughing more easily around him, too. Zoro, despite his gruff exterior, had a dry, understated wit that often caught you by surprise. He'd make a sarcastic comment about Sanji's over-the-top dramatics, or offer a blunt, insightful observation about Luffy's antics, and you'd find yourself genuinely chuckling, the sound feeling less forced than it had in weeks. You even started joining him for some of his late-night training sessions, not to participate, but to simply sit and watch, the rhythmic thwack of his swords against the practice dummy a strangely soothing sound. He never asked why you were there, and you never felt the need to explain. It was enough.

Sanji, however, saw none of this nuanced comfort. From his perspective, every shared moment between you and Zoro was a fresh stab of jealousy, twisting a knife in the wound your confession had left. He watched from the galley, from the deck, from the corners of his eyes, as your laughter, once freely given to him, now bubbled up around the swordsman. He saw the easy way you settled beside Zoro, an intimacy that had once been solely his domain.

He noticed the way your hand would sometimes hover, then gently pat Zoro's arm when he landed a particularly good hit during training. He saw the private jokes, the shared glances that passed between you, seemingly excluding the rest of the crew. When he’d observe you sitting quietly beside Zoro as the moss-head napped, a wave of resentment would wash over him. He imagined you gazing at Zoro with the same gentle affection you once reserved for him, and it burned.

He didn't see the platonic comfort; he saw a blossoming romance. He didn't see you finding solace; he saw you finding someone else. His mind, clouded by his own internal struggles and the bitter taste of his self-imposed rejection, warped every innocent interaction into proof of a burgeoning connection he couldn't bear to witness. Every quiet laugh he overheard, every casual touch, every shared moment of peace between you and Zoro, fueled his mistaken belief that you had moved on, and found the very connection he desperately wanted to offer, but felt he couldn't.

Sanji’s heart ached with a dull, constant throb, a counterpoint to the vibrant chaos of the Thousand Sunny. Every laugh he heard from Y/N, every casual gesture of comfort she offered Zoro, felt like a fresh stab. He'd tried to convince himself he’d done the right thing, that pushing you away was for your own protection, but the emptiness where your easy presence used to be was a gaping void. He missed your quiet understanding in the galley, the way you’d hum along to his cooking, the gentle touch of your hand when you’d hand him an ingredient. He missed you. And now, watching you find that comfort, that quiet joy, with Zoro of all people, was a torture he hadn't anticipated. The image of you, smiling so easily beside the moss-head, haunted his waking hours and infiltrated his restless sleep. He felt a bitter irony twist in his gut: he had pushed you away to protect you, only to be consumed by the pain of watching you slip further from his grasp.

The galley was a symphony of midday clamor, a usual lunch scene that felt anything but normal to Sanji. Luffy was, predictably, inhaling mountains of food, his cheeks puffed out. Usopp was animatedly demonstrating a new slingshot technique to a wide-eyed Chopper, narrowly missing a stack of plates. Nami was counting Berry on a notepad, a faint frown on her face, while Franky loudly described a "SUPER!" new modification he planned for the ship to Brook, who was making a skull joke about his empty stomach. Robin sat serenely, a book open in her lap, occasionally offering a knowing smile to the unfolding chaos. Jimbei watched it all with a calm, amused expression.

Your presence, however, was what drew Sanji's gaze, a magnet he couldn't resist. You were seated beside Zoro, a familiar sight now. The swordsman was sharpening one of his katanas with a whetstone, the rhythmic shnnk-shnnk a low hum. You, Y/N, were peeling an orange, occasionally flicking a piece of peel at Zoro's shoulder, making him twitch without breaking his concentration. A small, private smile played on your lips, and when Zoro finally caught a piece of peel in his eye, he grumbled, and you let out a soft, melodic laugh – a sound that used to be reserved for him, Sanji, for his jokes, his antics.

They weren't being loud, or particularly boisterous, but the easy camaraderie between you and Zoro was palpable. You leaned in slightly as Zoro muttered something under his breath, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle a giggle, your shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. You glanced up, your eyes twinkling, catching Zoro’s gaze, and for a moment, the world outside their shared bubble seemed to vanish.

Sanji watched it all from his place by the stove, a pan in his hand, his blood slowly, steadily, beginning to boil. He was meant to be the one making you laugh like that. He was meant to be the one you shared quiet jokes with. He was meant to be your comfort. The sight of your genuine amusement, the shared glance, the intimacy of the moment between you two, was the final straw.

With a sudden, violent motion, Sanji pivoted, and with a harsh, metallic clang that echoed through the entire galley, he aggressively threw the pan into the sink. It landed with a loud, reverberating thud, startlingly loud in the confined space.

The cacophony of lunch instantly died. Luffy froze mid-chew, his mouth agape. Usopp and Chopper whimpered, clutching each other. Nami's head snapped up from her calculations. Franky's "SUPER!" died on his lips. Brook's joke hung unfinished in the air. Even Robin's serene expression faltered slightly, her eyes widening.

The entire galley fell silent, save for the faint rocking of the ship and the lingering echo of the pan's impact. Every eye was now fixed on Sanji's rigid back, his shoulders hunched, his hands clenched. He didn't speak, didn't move. The tension in the room was so thick you could almost taste it, cold and sharp. You and Zoro, who had been trying to stifle your laughter moments before, were now completely still, the playful glint gone from your eyes, replaced by a wide, startled apprehension.

The silence stretched, suffocating and charged. The air in the galley was thick enough to cut with a knife, every pair of eyes fixed on Sanji’s rigid back. He stood there for a moment longer, breathing heavily, before he finally spun around, his face contorted in a mask of raw emotion that stunned the entire crew into deeper silence. His usual suave demeanor was utterly shattered, replaced by a storm of pain, fury, and accusation.

His gaze, wild and unfocused, swept over the stunned faces of his crewmates before landing, like a physical blow, on you, Y/N.

“What are you looking at, Y/N-chan?!” he snarled, his voice rough, completely devoid of its usual charm. It was a voice none of them had heard directed at you before. “Happy now?! You got what you wanted, didn’t you?!”

A gasp rippled through the galley. Nami’s eyes widened, and Usopp and Chopper huddled closer together, fear etched on their faces. Luffy, for once, was completely silent, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Sanji didn’t wait for a response. His eyes, burning with a pain he couldn't articulate, flicked to Zoro. “And you! You just love this, don’t you, Marimo?! Always there to pick up the pieces, aren't you?! Always there to be the big, strong hero!” His voice was laced with a venomous bitterness.

“Sanji, what are you talking about?!” Nami finally managed to blurt out, her voice sharp with concern.

But Sanji was beyond hearing. He was caught in the torrent of his own anguish and misguided conclusions. He gestured wildly between you and Zoro, his voice cracking with the pain of perceived betrayal. “Don’t pretend you don’t know! All this ‘quiet comfort,’ all these ‘shared laughs’!” He spat the words out, mocking your developing friendship with Zoro. “Just a little over a month ago… she stood right there,” he pointed a trembling finger at the spot where you had confessed the other night, “under the stars, and told me she loved me!”

The words hung in the air, a shocking, unexpected revelation. The entire crew froze, their faces a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and dawning realization. The clattering of forks on plates, the quiet murmurs, all ceased. Your face, Y/N, drained of all color, while Zoro, who had been listening with a rare intensity, slowly narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint appearing in their depths.

“She told me she loved me,” Sanji repeated, his voice dropping to a low, heartbroken growl, his gaze boring into you. “And now… now look at you! Laughing with him! Was it all a lie, Y/N?! Was it just a game?! Because if you loved me, if you truly loved me, you wouldn’t be acting like this! You wouldn’t be sitting there, cozy with him, like nothing ever happened!”

His chest heaved, his confession of your confession laying bare not just his own pain, but also his deeply held belief that your affection for him had been fickle, easily transferred. The pan lay in the sink, a testament to the sudden, violent eruption of a secret that had been simmering beneath the surface, unnoticed by all but the two people at its heart.

Sanji's chest heaved, his face flushed with a mixture of raw pain and a jealousy he could no longer contain. He pointed at you, then at himself, his voice rising, thick with anguish. “We should be the ones laughing like that! We should be the ones sitting close, sharing private jokes! We should be the ones comforting each other when we’ve had a bad day, or when we can’t sleep!” His voice cracked on the last words, the memories of your shared nightmares, your gentle comfort, flooding his mind, twisting the knife of his perceived loss deeper. “That was us! That was our thing! But you just… you just moved on, didn’t you?! So easily! All that talk about loving me, just to go running into his arms a few weeks later?!” He gestured wildly at Zoro, his eyes burning with accusation.

He took a ragged breath, the sheer force of his emotional outburst leaving him winded. His rant trailed off, replaced by heavy, shaky breaths. The silence that followed was absolute, punctuated only by the distant lapping of waves against the hull. The entire crew sat frozen, their gazes shifting between Sanji's trembling form and your pale, shocked face. The secret, raw and ugly, was now laid bare for everyone.

You, Y/N, felt a tremor run through you. His words, especially the accusation of you "moving on," stung with a fresh agony. It was a complete misinterpretation of your pain, your slow healing, and your platonic friendship with Zoro. The injustice of it, coupled with the humiliation of this public spectacle, finally broke through your shock.

You pushed yourself away from the table, the scrape of your chair against the floor unnervingly loud in the quiet galley. Your voice, though trembling, cut through the tension. “Sanji, stop! What are you even talking about?!” You stared at him, your eyes blazing with tears and indignation. “I don’t ‘love’ Zoro! I never did! He’s my friend, he’s our friend! And I wasn’t ‘moving on’ to anyone! I was just… trying to feel normal again after… after you told me you couldn’t love me back!”

Your voice cracked on the last words, the sheer vulnerability of your confession echoing through the sudden quiet.

Zoro, who had been watching the scene unfold with uncharacteristic stillness, slowly uncrossed his arms. He then pushed himself up, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he glared at Sanji. “You really are an idiot, love-cook,” he sneered, his voice laced with his usual antagonism, but with an underlying edge of genuine anger. “She was never ‘running into my arms.’ She was just trying to stop feeling like shit after you rejected her. Unlike some people, I don't need to be fawned over to be a decent friend. Maybe you should try it sometime, instead of throwing tantrums like a spoiled brat.” He then turned, a rare, softer glance at you. "You okay, Y/N?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

Your voice, raw with emotion, hung in the stunned silence of the galley. The accusation of his betrayal, the public exposure of your deepest pain—it was all too much. Your eyes, already burning, prickled with the threat of tears. You couldn't stay. You couldn't endure another second of the tension, the prying eyes, the agonizing presence of Sanji and his twisted understanding of your pain.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, pushing past the stunned Straw Hats. Your vision blurred, but you refused to break down here, not now, not in front of everyone. You marched out of the galley, the swinging door echoing your abrupt departure. The cool sea breeze on deck was a welcome shock, but it did little to quell the storm inside. You hurried to the railing, grasping the cool metal, drawing in deep, shaky breaths. Only one tear, hot and defiant, managed to escape, tracing a path down your cheek before you fiercely blinked it away. You wouldn't cry. Not anymore. Not for this. The vastness of the ocean stretched before you, offering a semblance of calm, a powerful, indifferent presence that mirrored your sudden emptiness.

Back in the galley, the silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the usual lively chaos. Sanji stood frozen, his arm still outstretched from his furious gesture, his face a mask of shock as your words, particularly "after you told me you couldn't love me back," finally registered. His rage, so potent moments before, deflated, leaving behind a profound emptiness and a cold, creeping dread.

Zoro's sharp retort still hung in the air, but his gaze, now fixed on Sanji, was devoid of its usual mockery. It was serious, almost challenging.

Nami was the first to move, her face a mixture of anger and deep concern. "Sanji! What was that?! You just… you just humiliated Y/N! And what do you mean, you 'couldn't love her back'?!" Her voice rose, demanding an explanation.

Usopp and Chopper, huddled together, looked utterly bewildered and heartbroken. "Sanji, you made Y/N cry!" Chopper whimpered, his eyes welling up.

Luffy, unusually quiet, finally spoke, his voice low and serious. "Sanji. What happened?" It wasn't a demand, but a quiet, firm question that cut through the remaining tension.

Sanji slowly lowered his arm, his shoulders slumping. The color had drained from his face, leaving him ashen. His bravado, his anger, had completely evaporated, replaced by a dawning, terrible realization. He had messed up. Royally. He had misinterpreted everything, lashed out, and hurt the one person he was desperately trying to protect.

He turned to face the stunned faces of his crewmates, his gaze unfocused, seeing the anger in Nami's eyes, the confusion in Luffy's, the hurt in Chopper's, and the stern disapproval in Zoro's. His eyes fell on the empty chair where you had been sitting, and the raw truth of your words hit him with the force of a tidal wave. He hadn't seen your heartbreak, only his own twisted fear. He hadn't seen your struggle to heal, only his own jealousy.

"I..." Sanji began, his voice hoarse, barely a whisper. He looked down at his hands, trembling. "I… I was scared." The admission was agonizing, stripped bare for all to hear. He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to look up, his eyes pleading with his crew, but especially with the empty space where you had been. "I thought… if I loved someone again, if I let myself truly love again… I'd lose them. I'd fail them. I couldn't… I couldn't bear to put Y/N through that. I pushed her away… to protect her." His voice broke on the last word, the truth of his selfish fear finally tearing through his carefully constructed defenses. "I didn't... I didn't think she'd actually… leave. And then... seeing her with him..." He gestured vaguely at Zoro, his jealousy still there, but now overshadowed by a crushing wave of regret and self-loathing. "I just... I thought she had moved on. That she didn't… didn't love me anymore." He squeezed his eyes shut, a lone tear escaping and tracing a path through the faint stubble on his jaw. "God, I messed up."

The raw, painful confession hung in the air, revealing Sanji's deep-seated fear and the colossal misunderstanding that had driven his outburst. The crew, though still reeling, watched as his shoulders visibly slumped, his usual confident posture replaced by one of profound defeat. He didn't wait for their reactions, for pity, or for judgment. The image of your retreating figure, the single tear you had fought so hard to suppress, was seared into his mind. He had to fix this. He had to try.

With a sudden, decisive movement, Sanji pushed himself away from the stove. His chair scraped loudly against the floor, a jarring sound in the now silent galley. He didn't spare a glance at Nami's worried face, Luffy's confused frown, or Zoro's scrutinizing gaze. His eyes were fixed on the galley door, the one you had just stormed through.

"I... I have to go," he muttered, his voice still hoarse, but laced with a newfound urgency. He didn't offer an explanation, didn't ask for permission. The need to find you, to explain, to apologize, was an overwhelming tide that swept away all other concerns.

He strode out of the galley, his long legs carrying him quickly down the corridor. He burst onto the main deck, his eyes scanning wildly. The sea breeze whipped at his hair, and the familiar creak of the Thousand Sunny seemed to mock his inner turmoil. He spotted you almost immediately, a solitary figure leaning against the railing at the ship's stern, your back to him, gazing out at the vast, indifferent ocean.

His heart ached at the sight. You looked small, vulnerable, and incredibly distant. He had done that. He had built that distance between you. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Sanji began to walk towards you, each step a testament to the fear he was pushing past, and the desperate hope that it wasn't too late.

Sanji’s steps were hesitant as he approached you, the usual confident swagger gone. The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the rhythmic creak of the Sunny and the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull. He stopped a few feet behind you, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He couldn't see your face, only the stiff set of your shoulders, the way you clutched the railing.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. It was the first time he'd spoken your name without a flourish, without a honorific, and it felt stark, intimate in a way that made his stomach churn with nerves. "I... I'm so sorry."

You didn't move, didn't acknowledge him beyond a slight stiffening of your shoulders. The ocean remained your sole focus.

He took a tentative step closer. "What I said... back there... it was unforgivable. I was a fool." He closed his eyes briefly, the memory of his outburst a fresh wave of shame. "I was angry, and scared, and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair. You didn't deserve that."

Still, you remained silent, your stillness unnerving. He yearned to see your face, to gauge your reaction, but you kept it hidden.

"I know I messed up," he continued, his voice laced with a raw honesty. "When you told me... what you told me that night... I was terrified. Not of you, Y/N, never of you. But of... of losing you. Of hurting you. I've seen what love can cost, and I... I was a coward. I pushed you away because I thought that would keep you safe, keep you from the kind of pain I've carried. But all I did was cause you pain myself."

A soft, almost imperceptible sound escaped you. A sniffle, perhaps. It was enough for Sanji to feel a flicker of hope, a sign you were listening.

"And seeing you with Zoro..." he admitted, his voice softening, tinged with regret, "I just... I misinterpreted it all. I was jealous. Blinded by my own stupid pride and fear. I saw you laughing, being comfortable, and I thought... I thought you had just moved on, that what you said to me didn't mean anything anymore. That was wrong. So incredibly wrong of me." He paused, waiting, hoping for a response.

Finally, your voice, barely a whisper, floated back to him on the breeze. "It hurt, Sanji." Your voice was flat, devoid of emotion, yet the simple statement was a devastating blow. "A lot."

He flinched, the truth of your words a heavy weight in his gut. "I know," he choked out. "And I'll never forgive myself for it. I ruined everything, didn't I? Our friendship... everything."

You finally turned your head, just slightly, enough for him to catch your profile. Your eyes were red-rimmed, but dry, your jaw set. You looked exhausted. "You said you couldn't," you murmured, your voice brittle. "That was the hardest part. Not understanding why."

"Because I'm a damn coward, Y/N!" he burst out, frustration and self-loathing coloring his tone. He stepped closer, reaching out a hand as if to touch your arm, but hesitated, letting it drop. "I was so scared of loving you and then... losing you, that I chose to lose you myself. It was the stupidest, most self-serving decision I've ever made." He took a shaky breath. "Can you... can you ever forgive me?"

The wind whipped around you, tugging at your hair. You looked out at the endless expanse of the ocean, the setting sun painting the clouds in fiery hues. Your gaze was distant, thoughtful. After a long moment, you finally turned fully to face him, your eyes meeting his. The raw hurt was still there, visible in their depths, but beneath it, a faint flicker of something else—resignation, perhaps, or simply exhaustion.

"I..." you began, your voice still quiet, but steady. "I need time, Sanji." You offered nothing more, no promise, no condemnation. Just that simple, clear statement. The possibility of healing, of moving forward, was there, but it wouldn't be easy, and it certainly wouldn't be rushed.

Sanji stood there, absorbing your words. "Time," he repeated, the single word hanging in the air. It wasn't the immediate absolution he desperately craved, but it wasn't a definitive "no" either. It was a thread, fragile but present, in the wreckage of his own making. He knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his aching heart, that he would wait for as long as it took.

The first day after Sanji’s confession and your subsequent departure was thick with an unspoken tension that settled over the Thousand Sunny. Breakfast was quiet, almost unnaturally so. Sanji, though he served everyone with his usual precision, kept his gaze largely fixed on the plates, avoiding eye contact with you. And you, Y/N, felt the weight of every silent glance from the crew, though they admirably tried to act normal. You ate quickly, excusing yourself as soon as possible, seeking refuge on the deck, where the vastness of the ocean offered a strange sense of solace.

The next few weeks were a delicate dance of hesitant overtures and cautious acceptance. Sanji, true to his remorse, began a subtle campaign of making amends. It wasn't about grand gestures; it was in the small, thoughtful ways he always showed his affection, but now directed solely at you, with an added layer of deference.

You’d find your favorite tea waiting for you on the railing when you went to watch the sunrise, perfectly brewed and still warm. Sometimes, a plate of exquisitely prepared fruit would appear beside your usual spot on the deck, cut into perfect, bite-sized pieces, a silent offering. He’d leave small, perfectly arranged pastries outside your cabin door in the mornings, knowing you had a sweet tooth. He never lingered, never forced an interaction, simply left his culinary gifts and retreated, giving you space.

The crew, observing this quiet ballet, maintained a respectful distance, though their hopeful glances were not lost on you. They saw Sanji's obvious remorse and his earnest attempts to bridge the chasm he'd created.

The air between you and Sanji slowly, imperceptibly, began to thin. The biting tension eased into a more subdued awkwardness. You still avoided direct eye contact for the most part, but the sharp pain of his rejection had dulled to a persistent ache.

One afternoon, you were sitting on the deck, attempting to mend a tear in one of Usopp’s worn shirts. The sun was warm, and the ship rocked gently. You heard the familiar clink of ceramic as Sanji approached, placing a small, steaming mug of coffee beside you. It was your favorite blend, black with just a hint of vanilla, exactly how you liked it. He didn't say anything, just set it down and began to turn away.

“Sanji,” you said, your voice a little rusty from disuse, stopping him mid-pivot.

He froze, his back still partially to you, his shoulders tensing. He slowly turned his head, just enough for you to see his profile, his brow furrowed with apprehension.

You took a deep breath, the scent of the coffee filling your nostrils. It was now or never. “Thank you,” you said, gesturing to the mug. “It’s… it’s perfect.”

He turned fully then, his eyes, still guarded, meeting yours. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through him. “Of course, Y/N-chan,” he managed, his voice softer than it had been in weeks, the familiar honorific returning tentatively. “Anything for you.”

The silence stretched again, but this time, it felt less suffocating, less painful. It was a space for tentative breath. You took a sip of the coffee, its warmth spreading through you. “It doesn’t make it all okay, you know,” you said, your voice quiet, honest.

He nodded, a profound sadness in his eyes. “I know,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t expect it to. I just… I hope one day, it won’t hurt so much for you.”

You looked into the rich, dark surface of your coffee, seeing your reflection waver slightly with the ship’s movement. “Me too,” you murmured, the admission a quiet truce, a small, fragile opening in the wall that had been built between you. It wasn't forgiveness, not yet, but it was a beginning.

The quiet exchange over coffee was a delicate first step, a crack in the wall that had separated you and Sanji. In the days that followed, that crack slowly, tentatively, widened. It wasn't an immediate return to the effortless intimacy you once shared; the raw edges of the recent past still lingered, a phantom ache. But the silence that had felt so heavy began to fill with hushed conversations and the gentle hum of renewed connection.

The first few shared moments were tentative. You found yourself drawn back to the galley, not as a constant fixture, but occasionally. You'd sit at the counter, perhaps peeling an apple or sketching in a notebook, while Sanji worked. He'd offer you little samples of what he was preparing, small, perfect bites that were both an apology and an offering of his unwavering care. Your responses were brief at first, a soft "Thank you, Sanji," or a nod of appreciation, but they grew steadier, more comfortable.

One afternoon, you found him meticulously cleaning his collection of pristine cooking knives. You approached cautiously. "Those really are sharp," you commented, a simple observation. He paused, looking up, and for the first time in weeks, a small, genuine smile touched his lips. "Only the best for my lovely crew, Y/N-chan," he replied, the familiar honorific feeling less forced, more like a soft invitation. You stayed there for a while, simply watching him work, the comfortable silence a balm to both your spirits.

He started leaving you little notes with your morning tea—a silly drawing of a swirly brow, a perfectly pressed flower, a recipe for a dessert you once mentioned liking. They were small, almost childlike gestures, a testament to his earnest desire to reconnect. And you, in turn, began to leave him things: a particular herb you found growing on an island, a small, polished seashell, a drawing of him surrounded by hearts (which you quickly scribbled over, much to his amused glance).

You still sought out Zoro's quiet company, finding solace in his unspoken understanding, but now, you also found yourself back on the deck with Sanji, watching the stars. The conversations weren't deep confessions, but gentle, meandering talks about the day, about the sea, about nothing in particular. He wouldn't comment on your past rejections, nor would you bring up his fears. It was simply about being together again, slowly rebuilding the easy rhythm of your connection. He no longer looked at Zoro with overt jealousy, and you no longer felt the need to hide your interactions with the swordsman. The tension, though not entirely gone, had softened into a quiet understanding.

The Straw Hats watched this gradual reconciliation with a mixture of relief and quiet satisfaction. Nami and Robin, ever perceptive, exchanged knowing glances, a silent acknowledgement of the healing happening before their eyes. They saw the lingering hurt in your eyes, but also the tentative warmth returning, and the genuine remorse in Sanji's guarded expressions.

Luffy, after his initial confusion, simply seemed happy that his two friends were talking and spending time together again. He'd occasionally try to rope you both into his antics, a silent test of the re-established camaraderie.

Usopp and Chopper were overjoyed. "Look, Sanji and Y/N are talking again!" Chopper would whisper excitedly to Usopp, who'd nod with a knowing grin. They missed the familiar dynamic between you two, and seeing it slowly return filled them with childlike glee.

Even Zoro, in his own gruff way, seemed content. He'd occasionally catch Sanji watching you, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, and a rare, almost imperceptible smirk would cross Zoro’s face. He saw that Sanji was finally putting in the effort, acknowledging his mistakes, and that was enough. The tension that had permeated the ship had begun to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm, a hopeful return to the harmonious chaos that defined the Straw Hat Pirates.

The tentative steps taken in the galley and on the deck slowly, but surely, led to deeper connections. The walls between Y/N and Sanji began to crumble, brick by painful brick, replaced by the familiar comfort of shared vulnerabilities and, most importantly, laughter. It wasn't the forced politeness of the initial weeks, nor the strained awkwardness of the first interactions. This was genuine, unrestrained mirth, a sound that had been sorely missed on the Thousand Sunny.

The shift was most evident during meal times. You found yourself gravitating back to your old seat near him, the casual brush of your shoulders no longer causing a flinch but a quiet warmth. You’d catch his eye from across the table, and a shared smirk would pass between you when Luffy did something particularly outrageous, a silent inside joke that needed no words.

One evening, while Sanji was meticulously plating dessert, he accidentally slipped on a rogue banana peel left by Luffy, doing a comical, flailing dance before catching himself just before he hit the deck. The sound of a genuine, unrestrained giggle burst from you, bright and clear. Sanji, momentarily mortified, looked up to see you clutching your stomach, tears of laughter streaming down your face. Instead of his usual dramatic sulk, a small, sheepish grin spread across his face, and he let out a chuckle himself, the sound a rusty but welcome melody. That shared moment of unadulterated amusement felt like a breakthrough, a vital return to the lightness you once effortlessly shared.

Soon, the galley became a place of easy laughter once more. You’d tease him about his overly dramatic reactions to Nami’s requests, or playfully challenge his insistence that carrots were always inferior to other vegetables. He, in turn, would jest about your occasional clumsiness or your tendency to hum off-key while you worked. The familiar, comfortable banter flowed between you like a river finding its natural course, washing away the last lingering remnants of tension.

Outside the galley, your interactions blossomed too. He’d still bring you tea or snacks, but now he’d stay, leaning against the railing beside you, sharing quiet observations about the passing islands or the starry sky. Sometimes, he’d recount a funny anecdote from his past, or share a new recipe idea with an almost childlike enthusiasm, and your genuine interest would light up his eyes. You, in turn, found yourself opening up about your own experiences, sharing stories and insights you hadn't voiced since the rift between you two had formed.

The crew, having witnessed the tumultuous journey, felt the palpable relief in the ship's atmosphere. Nami would often smile to herself, a soft, contented expression on her face, when she overheard your laughter mingling with Sanji’s. Chopper would bounce excitedly, delighted to see his two beloved friends back to their old selves. Even Zoro, who continued to share his quiet, unwavering friendship with you, would occasionally offer a subtle nod of approval in Sanji's direction, a silent acknowledgment that the love-cook was finally getting his act together. The Thousand Sunny hummed with a renewed warmth, a testament to the resilient bonds of its unconventional family.

While your relationship with Sanji had healed, returning to a comfortable closeness filled with laughter, the unspoken question of your romantic feelings still lingered, a gentle undercurrent beneath the surface of your renewed friendship. Sanji, still bearing the weight of his past rejection and your subsequent hurt, hadn't broached the subject again, content to rebuild your bond slowly and genuinely.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Sanji had been having clandestine talks with a certain navigator with a penchant for Berry and a surprisingly strategic mind: Nami. Seeing the genuine affection that had always existed between you and Sanji, and witnessing his sincere remorse, Nami had taken it upon herself to give him a little… push.

One evening, as the Thousand Sunny sailed under a sky dusted with a million stars, Nami casually steered you towards the deck after dinner. "Come look at the moon, Y/N! It's supposed to be particularly beautiful tonight," she said, a little too enthusiastically.

As you stepped onto the deck, you were met with a sight that made your heart skip a beat. Sanji stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the ship's lanterns, looking uncharacteristically dapper in a well-fitting suit. In his hand, he held a small bouquet of vibrant red roses. He looked nervous, his usual confident swagger replaced by a charmingly vulnerable demeanor.

Nami, with a sly wink, subtly backed away, leaving you two alone. Sanji took a deep breath, his gaze locked on yours, a warmth spreading through his eyes that you hadn't seen in a long time.

"Y/N," he began, his voice a little shaky but filled with sincerity. "After everything that happened… after my stupid mistakes… I realized something very important. Pushing you away was the biggest regret of my life. My fear almost cost me the most precious thing I've ever known." He stepped closer, the roses held out in offering. "You are kind, you are strong, you are the most amazing person I've ever met. And every moment I spend with you, even just laughing in the galley, makes my world brighter."

He paused, his gaze searching yours. "Y/N… I know I don't deserve it, not after everything. But… would you give me another chance? Would you let me love you, properly this time? Because I am, wholeheartedly, irrevocably, in love with you."

The air crackled with unspoken emotions. The stars twinkled above, silent witnesses to this long-awaited moment. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a joy that had been dormant for too long finally blossoming. A soft smile touched your lips as you reached out, gently taking the roses from his trembling hand.

"Yes, Sanji," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "Yes, I would."

A wave of relief washed over Sanji's face, quickly followed by a radiant grin that lit up his features. He stepped closer, his eyes filled with a love that mirrored your own, and gently cupped your cheek. The Thousand Sunny, sailing smoothly under the starlit sky, finally felt complete.

The word hung in the air, a delicate bridge spanning the chasm of past hurts. "Yes, Sanji," you whispered, and the relief that washed over Sanji's face was immediate, profound, and utterly transforming. His usual suave demeanor, which had been a mask for so long, melted away, revealing a raw, pure joy. He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, and then, slowly, reverently, he leaned in. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, a question and an answer, before deepening into a heartfelt embrace that sealed the long journey back to each other.

The Thousand Sunny, ever the silent observer, seemed to hum with a newfound warmth. The stars above twinkled brighter, and the gentle rocking of the ship felt like a lullaby of contentment. When you finally pulled apart, breathless, your eyes locked with his. The love shining in his gaze was unmistakable, mirroring the radiant warmth now blooming in your own heart. It was a love that had been tested, nearly broken, but had ultimately endured.

The Straw Hats, ever perceptive, hadn't missed the private moment unfolding on deck. Nami, who had orchestrated the confession, let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, a small, knowing smile gracing her lips. She nudged Luffy, who had been quietly watching the scene with unusual focus.

"They finally did it!" Usopp whispered excitedly to Chopper, who was bouncing on his hooves with glee.

Zoro, leaning against the mast with his arms crossed, simply grunted. But a faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the successful, if dramatic, resolution.

The next morning, the Thousand Sunny felt lighter, filled with an almost palpable sense of joy. Sanji, true to form, outdid himself with breakfast, laying out a feast fit for kings and queens. His usual "Nami-swan! Robin-chan!" greetings were still there, but his eyes constantly sought yours, a soft, private smile just for you.

You found yourself sitting closer to him at the table, your hand occasionally brushing his under the table, a secret language passing between you. The crew, now fully aware of your newfound status, couldn't contain their excitement. Luffy cheered, Usopp and Chopper danced around the galley, and even Franky let out a booming "SUPER!" of approval.

The teasing was immediate and good-natured. Franky declared you both the "SUPER LOVE-LOVE COUPLE!" while Brook composed an impromptu, albeit slightly off-key, song about love on the high seas. Sanji, usually flustered by such attention, simply preened, his arm naturally finding its way around your waist, pulling you closer.

You were on the deck near Nami's tangerine trees, concentrating on sewing Luffy's vest. It was very common for you to help the crew in any way you could. Since you didn't know how to fight very well, you dedicated yourself to sewing, washing and sometimes you even helped Sanji in the kitchen, although never cooking, that was his job, you simply handed him ingredients or went to the market to buy new spices.

And speaking of the cook, you sometimes wondered when he took breaks, if he ever did. Sanji was an excellent chef, always creating new dishes, one more exquisite than the next. But… you cared about him, more than you cared to admit. He was almost always locked in the kitchen (when he wasn't on a mission) and as much as he put his heart and soul into doing what he loves, sometimes it's good to take a break.

Deep in your thoughts, you didn't notice Zoro coming out of the kitchen until you heard him slam the door and grumble under his breath. You raised your head in surprise and he fixed his gaze on you.

"Let's see if you can get that idiot to be his old self again"

He then went to his room to polish his katanas. You looked at Nami, strange and confused. It was very common for Sanji and Zoro to fight all the time, most of the time over stupid things. But this time it felt different. Nami was about to get up from her seat to talk to the cook when he came out of the kitchen.

"Ladies are advised that food will be ready in a few minutes"

His face didn't have the usual flirtatious smile, this time he was serious and his tone of voice was cold. You looked at him worriedly while you felt your heart sink a little. He had never treated the crew with such indifference before, something was wrong with him. You looked at Nami almost desperately, in your eyes there was pleading and help.

"Follow me, let's see what's wrong with Sanji."

She took the lead and you followed behind her. When you arrived, Sanji was standing with his back turned, chopping parsley. You could see his muscles were tense through his striped shirt. Sanji had heard them come in, but Nami cleared her throat.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

The blonde didn't even turn around. "Yes. Can I help you with something?"

You two looked at each other, now Nami was worried just like you. Sanji was far from fine. You sensed that he was behaving that way because he was reaching the limits of his energy, if he hadn't already. Nami leaned closer to your ear.

"This is worse than I imagined. Talk to him, he will listen to you."

You nodded, swallowing, and she gave you a reassuring wink before walking away. Now you were alone with him. You slowly approached the counter, feeling uncomfortable because you didn't know how to make him understand that he needed to stop working.

"Sanji...?" you said timidly

"Yes, miss?"

You closed your eyes, he wasn't making it easy.

"Uhmm.. a-are you sure you're okay, do you need me to help you with something?"

You expected him to turn around but he seemed to still be focused on what he was cutting.

"Yes, miss, don't worry. I'll let you know when lunch is ready."

That was all? No pet names like "dove," "love," or "sweetheart." Those were the nicknames you pretended you didn't like, but now that he wasn't saying them, you realized how much you adored them. You took a breath with courage and touched his arm cautiously. You felt his back arch slightly.

"Seriously, Sanji, I'm worried about you. You're not okay. Please, if you could tell me."

Those words and your soft fingers on his bicep finished disarming him. Sanji swore he melted like a sugar cube in water. He dropped the knife as he rested his hands on the counter and hunched his back, as if all the accumulated weight and stress were rocks resting on his shoulders. You walked around the counter and stood beside him, rubbing his back gently, Sanji let out a soft moan. Only then did he realize how much his back hurt.

"I'm so sorry, sweets. I didn't realize how hard I was working…"

Finally the cook turned his body towards you to see you better, he had a tired look although his usual smile wanted to peek out from the corners while his shoulders were slumped. You gave him an understanding smile

"You know what you need now? A good rest. And a real one. Let us take care of you."

Before he could reproach you put a finger on his lips silencing him.

"No, don't say anything. I don't want to hear any buts. Come."

You took him by the hand and led him to a couch near the kitchen. He sat there obeying you like a puppy waiting for his next command. You gently pushed his torso so he could lie down. As you did so, he let out a sigh of relief, the pillows beneath him were soft and helped with his aching muscles.

"Okay, now stay there and don't move. You always take care of us, let us return the favor."

Sanji couldn't help but smile tenderly as he gave you a warm look that contrasted with his cold blue eyes.

"Thank you, dear. You're a sweetheart."

Ah. There it was again, that adorable nickname. You were starting to feel your face burning so you quickly smiled and quickly turned to the kitchen to make him some tea.

Luckily you already knew where all the ingredients were in the kitchen, you spent so much time in there just admiring Sanji's cooking that you practically memorized where he kept things. You tiptoed open the cupboard door above your head and pulled out a jar full of dried chamomile flowers.

You opened another door and pulled out more jars of dried mint and linden leaves, perfect for calming nerves. As you moved gracefully and quickly, Sanji kept his eyes on you, feeling a great warmth as he watched you take care of him with such interest and concern. As you waited for the kettle to boil, you turned your head to take a quick look at the blond, he smiled sweetly at you and you couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You approached him and knelt down to check on him. He looked at your face, studying it. Instinctively you ran your hand through his hair, caressing it. He closed his eyes, sighing at the delicious sensation, feeling his body relax even more.

"Thanks~" he purred

You giggled softly, biting your bottom lip. You studied his face as well, his platinum blonde hair soft and silky over his forehead, his thin lips and straight nose. Your hand moved down a little and with the tips of your fingers you traced lines over his cheek towards his chin. Now Sanji had opened his eyes and was looking at you curiously. You got lost in his blue eyes. Blue like the sea, the sky, sapphires. You could think of any pretty blue thing and it still couldn't compete with his eyes.

The cook gently took your hand and kissed it, first on the palm and then on the back. You leaned a little closer to his chest, always smiling just like he did. You tilted your head a little, looking at his lips. He of course noticed and smiled openly, revealing his white teeth. Was everything perfect about him? Or was it just for you? Sanji also approached your face, massaging your cheek with his thumb, occasionally pushing aside a strand of unruly hair that got in the way of your face and prevented him from seeing your unique beauty.

Your eyelids threatened to close as you continued to stare at his mouth and he seemed to do the same. You parted your lips and as you were about to get closer a sharp whistle startled you. You turned your head, steam was coming out of the kettle, it had already heated up enough. You clumsily mumbled an "I'm sorry" and stood up to pour the tea. Now your movements weren't delicate, they were nervous and hurried.

"One sugar cube or two?" you asked before bringing him the cup.

"One please, I don't need more sweetness if I have you"

Oh fuck me

The cup shook in your hands and you almost dropped the sugar cube to the floor when you heard him say it. You gulped and let out a nervous laugh as you wiped your sweaty hands on your clothes. Sanji obviously knew what those words had done to you and he enjoyed it with a smile that made his eyes crinkle. With the utmost concentration you could, you carried the cup to him, balancing it while you tried to calm your breathing, but you risked your heart bursting in your chest if you saw him, so you were careful to only look at the cup and your hands. He stood up to grab the object, but not before brushing his fingers against yours, which earned you a slight shiver.

After blowing on the liquid to cool it, his lips slowly moved to the edge of the cup and you couldn't help but stare at his mouth, hoping you wouldn't look like a pervert. At first Sanji frowned slightly at the temperature of the tea but then his features softened and a sigh of happiness escaped his lips. He tried to find the right words to describe what he felt.

"It is very comforting, thank you my dear"

A wide smile of relief spread across your face as you felt your shoulders relax. Cooking wasn't your strong suit and even though you had spent many hours watching Sanji cook it still seemed like a complex skill to you, but you would definitely put your best foot forward to make someone feel good. At this moment Luffy stormed into the kitchen making a lot of noise as he walked. You swore under your breath.

"SANJI I'M STARVING!!"

With your hands on your hips you looked at him seriously, you pulled out all your repertoire to stand firm with him, like a mother scolding her rebellious son.

"Oh no, Sanji is very exhausted today so you'll have to be more patient today Luffy"

You walked towards him with determined steps and he stepped back a little thinking that you were going to pull his ears, you seemed upset

"B-but... when will the food be ready?-"

"When it has to be ready"

You quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him out of the kitchen, slamming the door in his face. You turned around and looked at Sanji and shook your head and let out a tired breath.

"How do you put up with him?"

He laughed "Occupational hazards, you get used to it"

They both smiled and he got up from the couch leaving the almost empty cup on a nearby table.

"Thank you very much for the intensive care, ma chérie, but I think it's time for me to get down to business, otherwise our captain will start asking the fish if the food is ready."

You laughed at the silly joke but quickly frowned, "But, you should keep resting."

He approached you and grabbing both of your hands he kissed your knuckles "don't worry darling, you've done enough for me and I'm deeply grateful"

You felt your heart melt at such beautiful words, what Sanji said was true, you could never imagine how much he will treasure this moment.

"Can I at least help you cook? I don't know much but you can guide me in whatever you need"

Sanji smiled, that was why he loved you, you were always willing to help even though you had already done it. He led you into the kitchen, you were going to prepare a simple pasta. The two of you side by side with your hips bumping together began to cook with glee. It was more fun than you thought, you paid attention and learned from what Sanji taught you and you both laughed out loud if you got an ingredient wrong. The blonde boy looked at you fondly while your eyes were on the kitchen utensils, maybe Sanji should start getting tired more often if it meant being able to put his health back in the hands of your loyal heart of gold.