PLEASE DON'T FEED MY WORK TO AI OR REPOST ON OTHER SITES. I'm sorry, but I don't take requests.
My fanfiction masterlist - bottled pepsi
My moodboard masterlist - canned pepsi
What you can expect from reblogs . . .
Alex from Stardew Valley and SDV in general
Leon Kennedy and other Resident Evil things
Arthur Morgan and other Red Dead Redemption 2 content
The Walking Dead mostly Daryl Dixon
Five Nights at Freddy's
A few works of mine include. . .
Daryl Dixon x reader stories
Leon Kennedy x wife thoughts
Leon Kennedy x reader
Arthur Morgan x female reader
Football player Alex (Stardew Valley) x cheerleader reader headcannons
Random things in-between mostly about my fictional crushes
If you've enjoyed any of my posts or reblogs I wanna say thank you. I'm simply enjoying the content on here and I've found some confidence to share my own thoughts and opinions.
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Take all my love- re9!Leon/fbi!reader, Smut -by @plutotheplum
to your chagrin, you get partnered with an irritating DSO agent who happens to take an interest in the case you're working on.
salt & pepper- Series, Fluff, Comfort, Slowburn -by @leonsleatherjacket
you had worked in the dso for almost a year now doing logistics and communications. you preferred the quiet and being behind a screen. however, sherry believed that working as an assistant for leon would benefit not only you, but him too.
caught in the rain- Series, Mutual pining, Yearning, Smut -by @leonsleatherjacket
tired, exhausted and inexperienced at thirty, you couldn't imagine your older co-worker, leon s. kennedy, having any sort of feelings towards you. because obviously getting you coffee everyday, buying you snacks on his way to work and taking you out to lunch was a friend thing.
The team’s van is too full, so you have to sit on Leon’s lap for the ride. He tries (and fails) to hide how turned on he gets, the bumpy road making everything worse… until he finally snaps and pulls you out for a desperate fuck against the side of a gas station..
Stick to me like caramel- Smut -by @alloftheimagines
coming across a strange plant in an old lab greenhouse has dire consequences... for the most part.
Trying to jump scare Leon- Fluff, Drabble -by @leonslifealert
house parties. reader and leon have sex in a closet. 7 minutes in heaven. spin the bottle.
calling leon by his middle name. he loves it… maybe a little too much- Drabble, Smut -by @seribun
your neighbour thinks you're cheating on leon (sequel to above)- Suggestive, Humour -by @seribun
Pre R9 Leon Kennedy x Civilian!Fem!Reader- Fluff -by @ethereal-shyt777
Leon tries his luck with Tinder dates and thinks it didn't work out, but ends up finding the right person by accident instead. This is before R9, basically a little fanfic on how Leon met his wife (you)
girl dad Leon playing tea time with his daughter- Fluff -by @k3nnedygirl
teasing Leon because he's older than you- Fluff, Suggestive -by @flirtingfawn
going undercover with Leon is stressful and you blow off that steam together- Smut -by @gtgbabie0
analogy for the blind- Prof!Leon, Uni!AU, Smut -by @cametoile
you thought ‘philosophy: yesterday and today’ was a useless gen-ed requirement you could coast through. after completely bombing the exam, your professor decides to prove just how wrong you are, determined to show you firsthand exactly how persuasive a philosopher’s rhetoric can truly be..
You and Leon have to pretend to be married for 48 hours to complete a mission. He goes a little crazy when he realizes just how much he actually wants that
If you lie down with me- Older neighbour!Leon, Fluff, Smut, Angst -by @lanadelreyylover
A new house, a moving van, and a very heavy box all lead to your introduction to your older neighbor, Leon. Brooding, burdened, and somewhat reclusive, you find a way to worm yourself into his life and knock down his defenses until he finally lets you in(to his bed).
Death island Ranch owner!leon- Angst, Smut -by @leavemealoneplzs
Leon is running a ranch, and you're the sweet girl living on a farm nearby. Every time you come over to love on the horses, he hates himself a little more.
Pretty please?- Re4r!Leon, Established relationship, Smut, Fluff -by @a-dsoagent
Leon has always been a gentle lover, but you request that he lets loose for once, and boy did he.
the cold between us- Re9!Leon/medic!reader, Angst, Smut -by @kennedysflower
four years of built up tension between you and leon kennedy finally snaps during a mission in an abandoned russian sanatorium and after a reckless argument you both had at the DSO HQ, his restraint breaks , leaving both of you with far more damage than either of you know how to name.
tear my petals (the cold between us pt2)- Angst, Smut -by @kennedysflower
after weeks of silence and heartbreak, you finally confront leon about pushing you away and what starts as a painful conversation turns into the truth you’ve both been avoiding for far too long.
logging onto tumblr like heyyy i'm thinking about the same character i've spent the past few weeks thinking about. no change here. just wanted to let yall know
request: As a fellow writer I'd love to know your take on sanji dating headcannons!
I know you'll do great on this request if you find the time/are inspired/if youd like to write about this, if not its ok! ^v^ but thank you for hearing me out and having a good day!
Sanji x female!reader (it could MAYBE be read as gender neutral)
Word count: 7k+
Contains: tooth rotting fluff, kissing, angsty and insecure Sanji, his childhood
Author's note: Thank you so much for this request, I had fun writing it! It took me a bit longer since I was finishing my other stories, sorry for the wait! I think I could add countless other headcanons here, but I had to stop myself at one point. This was my first try with headcanons, hope you enjoy!
🩵 Sanji will NEVER stop courting you
One thing that makes the Straw Hat cook the man he is is that he never stops trying to earn your smile, your admiration, or your affection. Becoming his partner doesn’t mean the courtship ends. If anything, it’s only just begun.
The flowers he once surprised you with don’t disappear simply because you said yes to him. Neither do the kisses pressed to your knuckles and palms, the endless stream of heartfelt compliments, or the countless little gestures that somehow make even the most ordinary day feel just a bit more romantic.
If anything, they become even more frequent, and so does his devotion. Ever since you entrusted him with your heart and accepted his in return, he’s become hopelessly more determined to cherish the love you share. There isn’t a force in this world that could ever make him willingly do something that would leave you regretting your choice to love him.
To Sanji, loving you was never the finish line after a long chase. It was the beginning of an eternity spent discovering new ways to make you smile, bring that lovely familiar blush to your cheeks, and remind you, day after day, just how deeply treasured, loved, and utterly irreplaceable you are.
There won’t be many doors you’ll get the chance to open yourself, because your ever-chivalrous boyfriend is already holding them for you. Every chair will be pulled out before you can reach it, every shopping bag gently taken from your hands, and should you make the unfortunate decision of wearing shoes that are more beautiful than comfortable, he’ll carry you without a second thought. And none of it is done with the expectation of praise. Looking after you simply comes as naturally to him as breathing.
The way Sanji sees it, romance was never meant only for first dates or special occasions. It’s woven into the quiet rhythm of everyday life, hidden in a hundred little acts of devotion that whisper I love you just as clearly as the words themselves ever could.
🩵 You’ll become his favorite taste tester… and the only opinion that truly matters.
No matter how experienced the Straw Hat cook may be, he’ll always seek out your opinion before anyone else’s.
“My love, what do you think of this steak tartare recipe? Here, have a taste.”
He’ll hold out the fork for you without a second thought, patiently waiting as you take a bite, his eyes never leaving your face.
“And what about today’s lemon tart, sweetheart? Do you think it pairs better with vanilla ice cream or biscotti?”
Every tiny reaction of yours, even the ones you aren’t aware you’re making, is carefully observed and quietly committed to memory. Before long, he’ll know your favorite dishes, desserts, drinks, the meals you crave when you’re feeling under the weather, the treats you reach for in the summer, and the comfort foods you always seem to want on cold, rainy evenings.
One night, while the two of you are lying in bed talking about anything and everything, you casually mention a dish your mother or grandmother used to make when you were little. The kind that instantly reminds you of home.
By the end of the week, Sanji has already embarked on what can only be described as a personal culinary investigation.
Recipe books mysteriously appear in the kitchen. Different variations are tested whenever he has a spare moment. Ingredients are adjusted little by little until he finally recreates the flavor you’ve been describing.
When he places the finished dish in front of you, he’ll be watching you with bright eyes and that impossibly warm smile of his, genuinely excited over what, to him, is a simple wish he finally had the chance to grant.
🩵 On that note, breakfast becomes one of your favorite little rituals together.
If you’re someone who enjoys sleeping in, you’ll wake to find a cup of coffee and your favorite pastry waiting on a tray beside the bed. After feeding the rest of the crew, the blond will quietly slip back into your room so the two of you can enjoy breakfast together before the day truly begins.
If you’re an early riser instead, he’ll make a point of setting aside a little time for just the two of you before the rest of your wonderfully chaotic crew wanders into the kitchen. Sometimes you’ll eat there together while you keep him company with a book, occasionally looking up just to watch him work. Other mornings, he’ll surprise you with breakfast in bed or at the Aquarium Bar, where you’ll either enjoy the peaceful silence between you or chat about your plans for the day and laugh over yesterday’s adventures.
And although he’ll never admit to playing favourites (and it's quite obvious you're his favourite), your favourite meals somehow find their way onto the menu more often than anyone else’s. Just often enough to make you smile, but never so often that you have the chance to grow tired of them.
🩵 Every now and then, he’d disappear for a few hours on a new island, only to return with the brightest smile and insist that you “keep the evening free.”
Of course, that was assuming the two of you had managed to spend part of the day apart in the first place. More often than not, you’d already been exploring the island together, wandering through museums, trying local food, visiting theaters or cinemas, listening to street musicians, or attending the occasional concert.
Still, he’d always find a way to surprise you with something special once the sun began to set.
Whether it was a candlelit dinner overlooking the sea, a quiet picnic beneath blooming trees, or simply wandering hand in hand through lantern-lit streets with desserts in your hands, he’d somehow turn even the smallest island into the most romantic place in the world.
And whenever the crew spent longer stretches at sea, he never let that stop him. He’d somehow manage to organize little dates aboard the Sunny just as often, whether that meant reserving the Aquarium Bar for the two of you or transforming the nicest corner of the deck into your own private dining spot after successfully negotiating, bribing, or otherwise convincing the rest of the crew to make themselves scarce for the evening.
🩵 Birthdays and anniversaries are treated almost like sacred occasions.
Weeks in advance, the Straw Hat cook has already begun planning the perfect menu, secretly collecting little gifts that reminded him of you during previous islands, and pretending not to notice when you try to guess what he’s up to.
And that’s not even mentioning the bigger, more precious gifts he secretly sets aside for those special occasions. You’ll simply have to come to terms with the fact that, if you’re his queen every other day of the year, then on birthdays and anniversaries, you’re nothing less than his empress. He won’t let a single moment pass without reminding you of that.
He insists every year that he doesn’t need anything in return… then proceeds to treasure even the tiniest handmade card or handwritten note as though you’d handed him the One Piece itself.
What amazes him even more is discovering that those days mean just as much to you. Watching you quietly plan surprises of your own, seeing how much thought and love you pour into making him happy, leaves him wondering all over again how he got lucky enough to be loved by someone like you.
Years may pass, but somehow, every anniversary ends up more thoughtful, more romantic, and somehow even more memorable than the last. He always manages to outdo himself, convinced that you deserve nothing less.
🩵 Waking up beside you never loses its magic.
Every morning, before he ever slips out of bed to prepare breakfast, the Straw Hat cook spends a few quiet minutes simply admiring you while you sleep.
More than once, he’ll silence the alarm and grant the two of you another fifteen precious minutes beneath the covers, unwilling to trade the warmth of your body in his arms for the responsibilities waiting outside your room just yet. His fingers lazily comb through your hair, trace the curve of your cheek, or absentmindedly rub soothing circles against your back as though he can’t quite believe he gets to wake up beside you every morning.
And if you happen to wake before he leaves?
Well… that might be even better.
You’ll exchange sleepy smiles, instinctively shift a little closer until you’re tangled comfortably in one another’s arms, and somehow those “just five more minutes” turn into twenty before either of you finally convinces yourselves to start the day.
🩵 As far as cuddling is concerned, Sanji is nothing short of an expert.
If the two of you are lying in bed with nowhere to be, he’ll happily spend hours running gentle fingers along your back, scratching your scalp until you’re practically purring yourself. Every now and then, however, he’ll quietly ask to switch places. As much as he loves taking care of you, he absolutely melts whenever your fingers comb through his blond hair or gently trace soothing patterns across his back. He’ll never admit just how much he enjoys it, but the contented hum escaping him usually gives him away.
He adores holding you from behind, your back pressed against his chest, his chin resting lightly atop your head. But he’s just as helpless whenever you’re the one wrapping your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder or leaning comfortably against his back. Every affectionate touch sends his heart into a frenzy, and he has to make a genuine effort not to grin so widely that his face literally splits in two.
Rest your head on his chest. Use him as your favorite pillow. Throw your legs across his lap while you’re reading. Fall asleep with your limbs hopelessly tangled together.
Every position somehow feels like his favourite.
During the day, his hands seem to find you almost unconsciously. If you’re reading in the library, don’t be surprised if he quietly slips into the seat beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder while pretending to ask what you’re reading. Help him in the kitchen, and he’ll steal every excuse to brush against you or briefly pull you into his arms between preparing dishes. Even standing side by side at the railing, watching the sea stretch endlessly before you, somehow ends with his fingers finding yours.
He’s almost childishly eager to steal little moments alone with you.
The moment a conversation naturally comes to an end or your attention isn’t occupied for a second, he’s already appearing beside you with a bright smile, asking if he can borrow you for “just a minute.” Whether that minute turns into a quiet walk around the deck or simply standing together away from the others hardly matters. He’s happiest whenever he gets to have you all to himself, even if only for a little while.
As much affection as he gives, though, receiving it never fails to leave him completely undone.
Hook your arm through his, and he’ll stand just a little taller, not out of pride alone, but because his heart is suddenly beating so hard against his chest that it almost feels impossible to contain. Lace your fingers with his, kiss his cheek unexpectedly, or absentmindedly smooth a strand of hair away from his face, and you’ve effectively rendered the poor man speechless.
Don’t be surprised if Chopper eventually wanders over, convinced something must be wrong. Sanji’s face has turned an alarming shade of red, he’s smiling at absolutely nothing, and judging by the dreamy look in his eyes, the doctor may very well conclude his patient has come down with a fever.
He hasn’t.
He’s simply hopelessly, ridiculously in love with you.
🩵 Speaking of cuddling, it would only be fair to mention the countless kisses the two of you share as well.
If there’s one thing the Straw Hat cook loves most in the world, it’s kissing you.
Beyond the countless little pecks he steals throughout the day, whether the crew is around or not, kisses quickly become his favorite way of showing affection. He’ll press one to the back of your hand, your palm, your fingertips, your cheek… really, he’ll happily find any excuse to leave a gentle reminder of his love on your skin. The only thing he truly worries about is making sure you feel comfortable. Everyone else’s opinions couldn’t matter less to him.
Among all of them, though, there are a few that become especially precious.
Every now and then, usually when the two of you are alone, he’ll lean down to press a soft kiss against your bare shoulder. He doesn’t do it nearly as often when the others are around, partly because he knows exactly what happens every single time. The brush of his lips and the faint tickle of his stubble against your skin always earns him the sweetest little reaction, whether it’s a quiet laugh, a shiver running down your spine, or the way you instinctively tilt your head toward him.
Perhaps that’s exactly why shoulder kisses become so special.
They’re rare.
And they have an unfortunate tendency to lead to one of his greatest weaknesses.
Neck kisses.
The warmth of your skin beneath his lips, the familiar scent of your perfume, the adorable sound of his name slipping past your lips if you’re particularly ticklish… they’re enough to make the cook completely lose himself. Before long, he’s peppering your neck with countless featherlight kisses, slowly working his way upward until he finally reaches your lips.
Those, without question, remain his favorite.
He could happily spend hours simply kissing you, slow and unhurried, losing all sense of time until one of your unsuspecting crewmates inevitably stumbles across the two of you. Well… anyone except Luffy. Whether he simply doesn’t notice or doesn’t particularly care remains a mystery.
Forehead kisses, on the other hand, are among the rarest.
They’re the kind he saves for quieter moments.
When you’re sick, he’ll gently press his lips to your forehead, partly because he can’t resist comforting you, and partly because it’s his subtle way of checking whether your fever has gone down. Other times, when you lend him a hand in the kitchen, he’ll quietly murmur a soft, “Thank you, love,” before placing a quick kiss against your forehead and returning to whatever he was doing, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
One thing quickly becomes clear, however.
Kissing Sanji while he’s trying to focus on something important is a terrible idea.
Whether he’s preparing an elaborate meal or concentrating on some particularly delicate task, all it takes is one unexpected kiss for his entire train of thought to vanish. He’ll freeze completely, blinking at you as though you’ve momentarily robbed him of the ability to function.
As much affection as he showers you with, receiving it still leaves him hopelessly flustered.
Nothing, however, compares to what happens whenever you kiss the feature he spent years wishing he could hide from the world.
His eyebrows.
You think they’re beautiful.
Completely fascinated by the elegant little spirals framing his face, you’ve made a habit of tracing them with your fingertips whenever the two of you are alone, sometimes even pressing gentle kisses along their curves.
Each and every time, the poor man turns impossibly red.
He simply lies there, hardly daring to breathe, too overwhelmed to process the fact that you’re lavishing so much affection on something he never imagined anyone would pay such loving attention to.
If you happen to kiss only one, don’t be surprised when he quietly brushes his fringe aside, exposing the other without saying a word.
Not because he’s asking.
Simply because, somewhere deep down, he secretly hopes you’ll kiss that one too.
🩵 He notices everything about you.
The Straw Hat cook is utterly captivated by you.
Even after years of dating, or even marriage, he’ll still find himself looking at you as though he’s trying to memorize you all over again. To him, you’re simply breathtaking in every possible way. Time could never diminish that. Neither could a new hairstyle, a few wrinkles earned through laughter, or any other change that comes with life. In his eyes, you’re always the same extraordinary woman he fell hopelessly in love with.
Your happiness, your comfort, and your peace of mind always sit at the very top of his list of priorities. Whenever something weighs on your heart, he’ll do everything he can to be there for you.
Feeling unsure about an outfit? He’ll make it his personal mission to remind you just how breathtaking you are, showering you with so many sincere compliments that you’ll end up believing them yourself.
You were in such a rush that you forgot breakfast… or even your morning coffee?
Don’t worry.
By the time you’ve realized it, your favorite drink and a meal prepared exactly to your liking are already waiting for you.
Sometimes he’ll find you quietly gazing out across the endless sea, your thoughts clearly somewhere far beyond the horizon. Rather than immediately asking what’s wrong, he’ll simply wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder, giving you all the space in the world to tell him what’s on your mind… if and when you’re ready.
Nothing escapes his attention.
Not the way the sun has naturally lightened your hair after weeks at sea. Not the tiny trim you got on the last island, or even the fact that you’ve started parting your hair differently. The same goes for your favourite makeup products and perfumes. Long before you realize you’re running low, he’s already picked up replacements during your latest stop ashore.
His attentiveness becomes even more obvious during your period.
Truth be told, he’d probably realize it’s approaching before you do. Somewhere, somehow, you’re almost convinced he secretly keeps track of your cycle. During those days, if such a thing were even possible, he becomes even gentler than usual.
The kitchen somehow ends up stocked with your favorite sweets, chocolate, and ice cream. Pain relief is always within reach, along with a hot water bottle warming up for you before you even think to ask. Tucked away in one of the cupboards is a discreet little supply of pads and tampons, just in case you ever need them unexpectedly.
Whenever the cramps become particularly unpleasant, he’ll happily spend the afternoon curled up beside you, absentmindedly stroking your hair while gently rubbing slow circles over your lower back or abdomen until you eventually drift off to sleep against him.
And if any member of your wonderfully chaotic crew happens to test your patience during that time…
Well.
Let’s just say the Straw Hat cook becomes even more protective than usual, making it abundantly clear that bothering you today is a very poor idea indeed.
🩵 Fighting with Sanji is surprisingly difficult.
Arguments between the two of you are few and far between. Truthfully, I’d even go as far as to say they hardly ever happen.
The Straw Hat cook has an incredibly high tolerance for the people he loves, and especially for you. More often than not, he’d rather let the little things slide than risk turning them into an argument.
Ironically, that’s also what makes the occasional disagreement possible in the first place.
Instead of voicing every frustration as it comes, he has a habit of quietly pushing them aside until they eventually pile up. Every now and then, all those bottled-up feelings become just a little too much to carry alone.
Even then, though, I can’t picture him raising his voice at you or saying something cruel simply because he’s angry.
Confrontation has never been his first instinct.
Protecting the relationship has.
If the two of you happen to argue over something small, he’s far more likely to try and de-escalate the situation than add fuel to the fire.
“Alright, love… let’s talk about this.”
“Tell me what’s wrong. What’s been bothering you?”
No matter how hurt or frustrated he is, shouting at you simply isn’t in his nature. The greatest fear of this soft-hearted cook is hurting the people he loves… especially knowing that’s exactly what he was raised and expected to do from the very beginning. (We’ll come back to that a little later.)
There are, however, a few words capable of breaking his heart almost instantly.
“You don’t care about me.”
“You never think about how I feel.”
“You don’t listen to me.”
“You never considered my feelings.”
Those are the kinds of accusations that linger.
Not because he thinks you’re wrong for feeling hurt, but because he spends every single day trying to show you just how deeply he cares. Hearing the opposite would leave him wondering where he failed you.
Rather than risk saying something he’ll regret, he’ll quietly excuse himself for a few minutes. He’ll step outside, light a cigarette, clear his head, and only return once he’s certain he can give the conversation the patience and attention it deserves.
If he realizes he’s hurt you, even unintentionally…
No punishment you could ever give him would compare to the guilt he’d place upon himself.
Like a heartbroken puppy, he’d quietly trail after you, hoping you’d stop walking long enough to let him explain himself. Hoping you’d look at him. Hoping you’d let him apologize properly.
If you decided to spend the night somewhere else… or asked him to leave your shared room…
He wouldn’t sleep.
Not for a second.
Instead, he’d end up sitting outside the bedroom door, back resting against the wall, waiting.
Waiting for you to come out.
Waiting in case you changed your mind.
Waiting simply because he couldn’t bear to be any farther away from you than that.
He’ll spend the entire night worrying about you, replaying the argument over and over in his head, wondering how he could have handled everything differently.
Your tears are something he’ll never truly forgive himself for.
Every single one would remain lodged in his heart like a dagger long after you’d forgiven him.
Because that’s the thing.
You would forgive him eventually.
He, however, never truly would.
One of the things you’ll come to admire most about him is the sincerity of his apologies.
You’ll never hear:
“I’m sorry you took it that way.”
“I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Instead, he’ll apologize the way people should.
“I’m sorry for what I said.”
“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“There was no excuse for my behavior.”
“I’ll do better. You deserve better than that.”
His pride has never mattered more than you.
Even if hearing your criticism stings, he’ll listen to every word because understanding your feelings matters far more than protecting his ego.
More than anything, he wants the two of you to make up properly.
He can’t stand unresolved tension hanging between you.
He needs to know you’ve forgiven him.
That everything is alright again.
That you still trust him.
That you still love him.
So kiss this sweet boy a few extra times after every argument.
Hold him close.
Remind him that one disagreement doesn’t undo everything the two of you have built together.
Because although you’ll probably fall asleep long before he does, he’ll still be lying awake beside you, quietly wondering whether you truly forgave him… or whether this was the day he finally gave you a reason to stop loving him.
🩵 More often than not, the rare disagreements between the two of you stem from one thing… Sanji’s incurable habit of flirting with every women who walks this planet.
To be fair, even before the two of you started dating, the way he treated you had always been on an entirely different level compared to the shallow flirting he threw at every remotely pretty woman he met, even if she happened to be an enemy. His gestures toward you had always been deeper, more thoughtful, more genuine.
Still, it took time for him to convince you that you were the only one who was truly special to him, and that what he felt for you was nothing like the sweet compliments and flowery words he handed out so freely to every lady he came across.
No matter how wonderful your Sanji is, and no matter how much you trust him, that doesn’t mean it never stings to watch him practically pirouette across the deck because a pretty woman smiled in his direction.
Yes, he’d toned it down considerably once the two of you got together. But for a lifelong flirt like him, “considerably” didn’t always feel like enough.
After a few unpleasant experiences with his over-the-top dramatics, and after finally laying everything on the table when you confessed your feelings and became a couple, Sanji genuinely made an effort to improve. His chivalry never bothered you, nor did the fact that he was a gentleman. If anything, you were quietly proud every time you watched your boyfriend treat the women of the crew with kindness and respect. They deserved that kindness, after all. Besides, the difference between how he treated them and how he treated you was impossible to miss.
🩵 On the other hand, heaven forbid another guy gets a little too close to you. If he so much as gives you a compliment, let alone manages to make you laugh, Sanji’s poor brain immediately starts writing entire scenarios where you’ll leave him for someone better.
He’s never jealous because he wants to control you. Nor because he doubts your loyalty. He’s jealous because, deep down, he’s convinced you deserve someone better than him.
That belief only grew stronger after everything that happened on Whole Cake Island, no matter how many times you tell him how wonderful he is. And then, despite silently scolding himself for being selfish, he can’t help becoming just a little clingier. He’ll stay glued to your side, keep your hand in his at every opportunity, and cover it with even more kisses than usual. It’s almost as if his subconscious is trying to reassure him that everything is okay, that you’re still together, and that he’d sooner face the most horrific death imaginable than willingly let the two of you drift apart.
Fortunately, proving your sweet cook wrong is easier than you’d think.
You don’t need grand declarations of love or extravagant romantic gestures. A slightly tighter squeeze of his hand, resting your head on his shoulder, even the smallest kiss is enough.
His heart grows several sizes every single time you walk over to stand beside him of your own accord and proudly introduce him as your boyfriend. The smallest reminders that the two of you belong to each other are treasures beyond measure to him, and no one could deny how brightly Sanji lights up in those moments. He looks like someone who has just been awarded the highest honor imaginable, nodding to himself with barely contained pride as if to say,
“Yeah. That’s right. That’s me. Her boyfriend. Hers.”
Because that’s what has always been hardest for him to believe.
That he could actually be someone’s first choice.
It feels unreal to him. Like it was something that was always meant for other people, something he could only watch from afar and quietly envy.
That’s why he’s so used to giving, but never receiving.
He spent his entire life trying to be useful, trying to earn people’s affection, trying to become someone they needed, if only a little. Anything to fill the enormous hole left behind by his childhood in Germa, by the guilt he carried over Zeff’s sacrifice…
And none of that compared to how desperately he tried to make up for the pain he caused the crew, especially you, during the events of Whole Cake Island.
He felt unworthy.
Like an annoying piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe that you simply couldn’t scrape off.
Because, despite hating himself more than ever back then, what he wanted most in the world was your forgiveness. Your understanding. The chance to never spend another moment apart from you after finally telling you about every wound his heart had been carrying all those years.
He longed for your love and your comfort.
Even if he quietly despised himself for wanting them. That longing was simply stronger.
Every single time you chose him, over and over again, there was always one question that refused to leave his mind.
Why?
Unfortunately, despite everything I’ve just said, asking for reassurance is one of the hardest things Sanji could ever do.
He’s an expert at comforting other people, probably because he knows better than most what it’s like to have your soul ache for a few gentle words, only for reality to answer with cold rejection instead. He knows exactly how much those words can mean.
Receiving that same comfort himself?
That’s an entirely different story.
He’ll hide everything behind a warm smile and a quiet, “I’m fine,” even when it’s painfully obvious that he isn’t.
Maybe not to the rest of the crew.
But certainly to you.
So press him, just a little. Never forcefully, but enough when the two of you are alone. Give him the reassurance he can’t bring himself to ask for. Tell him you love him. Remind him that he’s safe with you. Let him know you’re willing to listen for as long as he needs, with open arms and all the love in your heart.
Because that’s what he truly needs.
Especially during those moments when one thought keeps haunting him:
“Does she really love me… or is she just putting up with me?”
He’s not constantly insecure in the way some people are, endlessly demanding affection until they drain the person beside them.
Never.
That’s simply not who he is.
But after especially difficult moments…
When he makes a serious mistake. When he fails at something important. When memories of Germa come flooding back.
That’s when those insecurities rise to the surface.
And that’s when you have to remind him, with everything you’ve got, that he is more than enough. That there isn’t a better person in the world for you.
Most importantly…
That he is loved beyond words.
🩵 So don’t be shy about showering him with compliments, either. They mean far more to him than you might think.
Sure, he’d probably short-circuit on the spot and turn into a bright red, speechless mess every time you casually called him “handsome” or “my gorgeous boyfriend.” Especially that little word, my. It completely fries his brain.
But as flustered as those compliments make him, the ones that truly reach his heart are different.
“I trust you.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“You’re the one person I know I can always rely on.”
“I feel safest when I’m with you.”
“I know I’m always in good hands with you.”
Those are the words that would absolutely undo him.
Because they fill the very emptiness that has haunted him for years, the fear that he’s simply… too much.
Too affectionate.
Too emotional.
Too romantic.
Too protective.
Too devoted.
Just… too much.
That fear would probably be at its strongest during the early stages of your relationship. Now that he finally has you, he’d constantly hold himself back, terrified that his overwhelming personality might end up pushing you away instead.
But every last one of those worries would melt away the moment you walked up to him and showed him that you wanted exactly those things from him.
That you craved his affection just as much as he craved giving it.
That you wanted to spend time with him.
That you loved every bit of that closeness.
Because, in the end, there is nothing that reassures Sanji more than realizing he never has to make himself smaller in order to be loved.
🩵
When he finally tells you about his past, it’ll mean more than a thousand “I love yous” ever could.
We already know that, when it comes to his own pain, Sanji is an incredibly private person. The Straw Hats sailed alongside him for a long time before they ever learned the truth about his family.
At first glance, he seems like an open book. He’s loud, expressive, dramatic, constantly joking, flirting, arguing, smoking… always wearing his heart on his sleeve.
But the things that truly hurt him?
Those are locked away somewhere deep inside, hidden behind several steel doors and concealed beneath that warm, charming smile of his.
With time, he’d grow much more open with you. You’d learn to read him in ways no one else could.
Even then, though, you could never have imagined just how much suffering your wonderful, curly-browed sweetheart had been carrying all those years.
If, early in your relationship, you asked him one quiet night, wrapped together beneath a blanket and sheltered by the intimacy of darkness, to tell you about his childhood…
You wouldn’t hear very much.
Only the carefully edited version.
“What was your childhood like?” you asked, your wide eyes reflecting the moonlight.
There was so much kindness in them.
So much tenderness.
The kind of warmth Sanji never believed someone could look at him with.
He simply didn’t have the heart to shatter the beautiful image you had of him.
“Nothing too special,” he smiled, lighting a cigarette while making sure to blow the smoke well away from you. “I worked on a restaurant ship when I was a kid. It sank, and old man Zeff took me in after that.”
Everything he said was technically true.
It just left out enormous pieces of the story.
Not because he didn’t trust you.
Because he couldn’t bear the thought of giving you a reason to look at him differently.
Of course, you’d notice.
But you’d try to respect his choice.
Every now and then, you’d ask another question about how he came to stay with Zeff, gently steering the conversation toward the happier memories instead. His life at the Baratie. The lessons the grumpy old chef had taught him. Sometimes you’d even bring those stories up yourself, simply because you knew they always made him smile and lifted the quiet sadness that settled over him whenever his past came up.
The first story he truly let himself share was Zeff’s sacrifice.
How they’d spent months stranded together, starving on a barren rock with no hope that anyone would ever find them.
How those months shaped the way he saw food… and people.
The two of you cried together as he spoke about his dream of finding the All Blue, not only for himself, but most of all for Zeff.
He’d never realized just how desperately he’d wanted to tell someone that story.
Or how much lighter he’d feel when all he found on the other side of it was even more of your love and support.
My All Blue, he thought as he looked at you.
You promised him that you’d stay by his side, that you’d help him through every step of the journey until he finally found it.
The place that, somewhere deep in his heart, he’d already decided would one day become your home.
The place where the two of you would build the rest of your lives together.
The deeper wounds, though…
Those revealed themselves in quieter ways.
The way he’d go completely still whenever someone started talking about fathers or family.
The way his entire expression changed for the briefest moment before he forced his smile back into place.
The way he almost never mentioned anything about the years before Zeff unless someone pushed him into it.
More than once, you woke him from nightmares where he mumbled through tears, begging you not to leave him.
You’d spend hours calming him until, eventually, the two of you drifted back to sleep.
The whole time, he’d be apologizing through tears for waking you.
Even though he’d never told you about the isolation…
Or the abuse.
Or how unwanted he’d been made to feel.
You could slowly piece together that whatever had driven him to that first restaurant ship before meeting Zeff must have been something unimaginably cruel.
Then, after one particularly difficult mission the two of you barely survived…
Or perhaps after hearing you speak about the wounds you carried yourself…
He decided to do something he’d never truly wanted to do with anyone before.
Open up.
He felt you deserved to hear it from him.
Almost like reopening old scars, he began speaking hesitantly.
There was no dramatic speech.
No grand performance.
Just honesty.
The kind of honesty that strips a soul bare.
“My family wasn’t exactly kind.”
Once he’d started, there was no stopping him.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t recounting the events themselves that hurt the most.
It was watching your face as you listened.
Sometimes heartbreak.
Sometimes horror.
Sometimes pure anger on his behalf.
As if you couldn’t comprehend how something so unimaginably cruel could have happened to someone as endlessly kind as the blond cook sitting beside you.
“It’s alright… it wasn’t a big deal. It was a long time ago,” he’d murmur, trying to comfort you, while you were already mentally planning how to defeat an entire family of genetically enhanced nobles.
In those moments, his heart would overflow with a love and gratitude so overwhelming it almost hurt.
The simple fact that you still loved him.
That you understood him.
That after learning everything, you still looked at him and saw the very same Sanji you’d always loved.
Only now… You understood him even more.
And cherished him all the more because of it.
Those were the things he’d never tell anyone else.
Only you.
His irreplaceable partner.
Not because they were secrets for the sake of being secrets.
But because he’d spent his entire life ashamed of them.
Ashamed of how lonely he’d been.
Ashamed of how desperately he’d longed for someone to choose him.
Someone to tell him he was enough.
He’d spent so long expecting rejection that he’d convinced himself it was all he deserved.
Yet when you finally learned the truth…
Instead of pulling away…
You only held him closer.
And loved him more with every passing day.
🩵 As I mentioned before, Sanji dreams of finding the All Blue with you by his side.
Once he does, he’d build a restaurant there. He’d drag Zeff and the Baratie boys over whether they agreed to it or not, and together you’d all begin an entirely new adventure.
More than anything, though, he’d want to introduce you to Zeff, if you hadn’t already met him.
To his dad.
He’d want the old man to see just how happy he finally is.
Every day, you’d be there beside him, helping out around the restaurant while pursuing the things you love, building a life together one ordinary, wonderful day at a time.
And maybe, before long…
Your little family would grow.
If things went exactly the way Sanji secretly imagined them, your children would be tiny, adorable copies of you.
Especially little girls.
On the other hand, you’d be hoping for the exact opposite.
That they’d inherit his soft smile, those impossibly curly eyebrows, and the warmth that always shines in his eyes.
The first time Zeff showed you an old photograph, or maybe even a video, of Sanji as a little boy… Your heart completely melted.
He was, without question, the sweetest child you’d ever seen.
“I wasn’t that cute…” he’d mumble, cheeks burning, while Zeff snorted loudly in the background.
From that moment on, you couldn’t help imagining a little boy who looked just like him running around the restaurant.
Only this child would grow up differently.
Unlike Sanji, they would never have to wonder whether they were wanted.
They would never have to earn love.
They would simply receive it, every single day.
The kind of love he should have had from the very beginning.
Together, you’d give your children everything he never got to have.
A home filled with warmth.
A family that chose them every single day.
Parents who loved them without conditions, without expectations, without ever making them question whether they were enough.
And in giving them that childhood…
The two of you would quietly heal a small part of his own.
That’s the future Sanji dreams about most.
Just coming home after a long day in the kitchen, seeing you waiting for him with Zeff grumbling somewhere in the background, hearing the laughter of your children echo through the restaurant, and realizing that, somehow…
He found his All Blue long before he ever found it on a map.
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explicit content
Leon experiences a moral shock when he realises just how badly he loves teaching you to touch him. In bed and outside of it—every woman he’s ever been entangled with knew more than him, and he learned how to touch women through their hands. How to pet their hair back, how to kiss too-sensitive places. How to coax a woman into his lap, and nip her throat, and make her shudder.
You know nothing. He’s your first boyfriend, lover, partner. You’ve never been touched, which is his own private agony, and a delight at all hours of the day as he gets to be your first kiss, your first fuck, and your first cuddle. He teaches you how to open your mouth and use your tongue, how to take what you need from him and anything else you want, too. He teaches you how to relax when you’re against someone, and how to draw shapes down their back. He shouldn’t find it so achy. He’s never been like this before. The hesitant way you tuck hair behind his ear as you lean up to kiss his cheek has him stirred and quickly useless, your hand tumbling down his back to tickle him like a damn slap. He shivers when you scratch his scalp and says, That’s perfect, bub, with enough condescension to hide his sincerity. He’d love you if you knew everything there was to know, want you without introductions, but he loves being trusted so deeply by you, and he loves the way you smile when his patience exceeds your expectation. He doesn’t get mad. Doesn’t ever laugh at your shy questions. He’s putty in the palm of your trembly hands.
The worst of it is that you know. Not that you like it, being led and taught and told, commanded around with a gentleness he can’t fake, no. The worst part is when you wait to be told what to do, after a hundred kisses and hours upon hours boiling up in his lap. Like this? you ask into his neck, your teeth dull at his pulse and your tongue hot.
Leon grabs you by the thighs and yanks you against his front every time, a poor picture of restraint, praising his baby through gritted teeth. Yeah, honey. You listen so well.
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Opla!Sanji x femreader who’s the sister of Nami and Sanji always give the reader strawberries 🍓
VINSMOKE SANJI (LIVE ACTION) ✰ THE LANGUAGE OF STRAWBERRIES
You’re sitting on the deck, reading a book on your lap when you hear someone say, “You’ll burn that pretty skin if you stay out here much longer without a hat.”
You looked up, and there he was. Sanji. In his hands, held behind his back, was something you couldn’t see.
“I’m fine,” you replied, remembering what page you were on. “I like the sun.”
“The sun likes you too,” he replied smoothly, and then, with a flourish that would have made a stage magician jealous, he brought his hands forward. “Might be something that the sun and I have in common, then.”
A small porcelain bowl. And inside, a neat little pyramid of strawberries, their red so vivid against the white dish it almost hurt to look at. They were perfect—plump, glistening with a faint sheen of moisture, their green stems still attached like tiny crowns.
“Sanji…”
“For you, mademoiselle.” He lowered himself into a graceful crouch beside you, setting the bowl gently on the space between them. “I noticed you’ve been looking for them.”
You reached out tentatively, your fingers brushing the cool surface of one berry. “I counted them,” you told him. “We ran out. I saw the crate this morning. It was empty.”
Sanji’s smile widened, a glint of mischief in his eye. He plucked one of the strawberries from the bowl and held it out to you, his fingers careful not to bruise the delicate fruit. “Did you now?”
You took it from him, your fingers brushing. A deliberate thing, you were sure. “Yes. I was going to ask you to put strawberries on the next supply list. I’ve been thinking about them for days.”
“Well, it seems that we still have them in stock,” he winked, nodding toward the berry in your hand. “Tell me if they’re to your liking.”
You bit into it. The strawberry was just in the in-between of sour and sweet, just to your liking.
“These are perfect,” you sighed after you’d swallowed, licking a stray drop of juice from your lip. “Where did you get them? We haven’t docked anywhere in two weeks.”
Sanji leaned back on his heels, reaching for his cigarette case. He paused, glanced at the strawberry in your hand, and seemed to think better of it, leaving the case untouched. “A chef has his secrets,” he said lightly. “Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?”
“Sanji.”
His name on your lips, spoken with that mix of exasperation and fondness, made him chuckle. “Alright, alright. Let’s just say I’ve been… cultivating a small stock. For emergencies.”
“Strawberry emergencies?”
“Mhm. A certain someone’s cravings qualify as a top-priority emergency in my book.”
You hummed. “You’ve been hiding strawberries. For a week. Just in case I wanted some.”
“Among other things.” He gestured to the bowl. “There’s more where that came from. I’ve got a little patch growing in one of the planters behind the galley. Took some doing to get the soil right, but—” He shrugged, as if it were nothing. As if he hadn’t secretly cultivated a strawberry patch just to surprise you with fresh fruit whenever you pleased.
. . .
“You grew strawberries,” you said slowly, “on the Going Merry. For me.”
“Well,” he said, and for the first time, a hint of genuine shyness crept into his voice. He rubbed the back of his neck, that boyish gesture he never let anyone else see. “I like doing things myself. And I like making people happy with food. Combining the two seemed logical.”
“Logical,” you repeated, smiling.
“Of course.”
Sanji picked up another piece and offered it to you. “Now, are you going to let me spoil you, or do I have to start listing off all the ways strawberries are superior to other fruits? I’ve got arguments, you know. Health benefits, versatility in desserts, aesthetic appeal…”
You took the bowl from him, your fingers tangling deliberately this time, both of you letting the contact linger. “I’d like to hear them.”
“Would you now?” He sat beside you, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours. “Well, first of all, they’re the only fruit brave enough to wear their seeds on the outside. That takes confidence.”
“Confidence?”
“Absolutely. A strawberry doesn’t hide what it is. It’s bold. Vibrant. Sweet without being cloying.” He watched you take a bite, his gaze fond. “Reminds me of a certain someone, you know?”
You nearly choked.
“Are you comparing me to a strawberry?”
“I’m comparing your finer qualities to those of a strawberry,” he corrected smoothly. “There’s a difference.”
“And what, exactly, are my finer qualities?”
Sanji took the question with theatrical seriousness, one hand coming to rest on his chest. “Well, let’s see. You’re bold. You don’t back down from a fight, even when you probably should. You’re vibrant—when you walk into a room, it feels brighter. And you’re sweet without being…”
He paused, searching for the word.
“Cloying?” you suggested.
“I was going to say ‘fake.’ But cloying works too.” He grinned. “Also, you’re devastatingly beautiful, but I assume you already knew that part.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling so hard your cheeks were starting to hurt. You offered him the half-eaten strawberry in your hand. Sanji looked at it, then back at you. He didn’t take it from your hand. Instead, he leaned in and took a bite directly, his lips brushing your fingers for the briefest moment.
His eye stayed on yours the whole time, as if testing your reaction.
“Delicious,” he laughed quietly, nodding.
You swore your heart did something that it wasn’t supposed to do. You pulled your hand immediately, your fingertips tingling. “You could’ve told me to just feed you. You’re going to break your neck from that angle.”
Sanji just smiled.
. . .
“You really didn’t have to do this,” you said eventually, your voice soft. “The strawberries thing. We could’ve just gotten some at the next island.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
“You’re very thoughtful, Sanji,” you told him. “Thank you. I wanted to let you know.”
He exhaled, a shaky breath that might have been relief. “Well,” he managed, recovering some of his swagger, “if we’re letting each other know things, then I should probably mention that I’ve been growing those strawberries for three months. Since you said you missed them.”
“Three months?”
“I wanted to make sure I had the technique right before I presented them. Couldn’t very well give you subpar strawberries, could I? What kind of chef would I be?”
You stared at him. Three months. He had been tending to a strawberry patch, hidden behind the galley, for three months, just so he could surprise you with your favorite fruit whenever you wanted.
“That must’ve been a lot of work.”
“Nothing’s too much work when it comes to you, mademoiselle,” he replied.
“You’re laying it thick today, huh?”
Sanji took a deep breath, exhaling with a laugh. “Taking all the chances while I can.”
You set the bowl aside—half-empty now, your craving thoroughly satisfied—and before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned into him, your head finding the spot on his shoulder that seemed to have been made for you. Sanji went rigid for a second, then relaxed, his hand coming up to wrap around yours carefully.
“All the chances are definitely yours.”
Sanji might’ve just won the whole lottery at this point. Starting with a seed of strawberry as an investment.
“Now, if you’re done with those, I was thinking of making strawberry shortcake for dessert tonight. Fresh cream, a little vanilla bean, maybe some mint from the other planter. What do you think?”
You tilted your head up to look at him. He was so close you could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw and the way his eyes crinkled at the corner when he smiled. “You’re going to use your secret strawberries for shortcake?”
“I grew them to be eaten,” he said reasonably. “And I happen to know a certain someone who deserves something sweet. Always.”
“You already gave me strawberries.”
“Pre-shortcake strawberries,” he corrected. “A mere appetizer. The main event is yet to come.” He grinned, and it was that grin—the one that managed to capture your eye during your first meeting at the Baratie. “I take my duties as your personal chef very seriously. That includes dessert.”
“Since when were you exclusively my personal chef?”
“Mm.” He feigned thought. “Now?”
You laughed again, and Sanji looked at you like you’d hung the moon. “Alright,” you replied. “Shortcake. But I’m helping. I think the others would want some, too.”
“Absolutely not.” He said it with such immediate, theatrical horror that you laughed again. “You’ll be my taste tester. Sit there, look beautiful, and tell me when I’ve achieved perfection. Those are the rules.”
“Those are arbitrary rules you just made up.”
“They’re the chef’s rules,” he said primly. “Non-negotiable.”
You reached up and flicked his shoulder. Sanji blinked, startled, and then his face split into a wide, genuine smile that transformed him from suave gentleman into something boyish and utterly charming.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I’m lucky you think I’m cute,” he countered. “And I intend to keep being lucky for as long as you’ll let me.”
You felt your face grow warm again, but you just hid your face on his arm. “That might be a while.”
A while, indeed.
-
“The waiter’s flirting with your sister, huh?” Zoro stated, not really questioning.
Nami didn’t look up from her cake. “I know.”
“You don’t mind?”
She finally glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Zoro, he grew her a secret strawberry patch. For three months. I’d be more worried if she wasn’t flirting back.”
Zoro took that into consideration. “Fair.”
Then, Luffy popped in between them. Where he was just moments ago was the true mystery. His mouth full of strawberry shortcake. “Sanji makes even better food when he’s happy,” he said, as if that explained everything. “(Name) should flirt with him more.”
“I don’t think I can stomach that,” Usopp piped in.
“I don’t think you’re one to talk,” Nami told him. “Remember when we were about to leave Syrup Village?”
“I—“ Usopp weighed his chances. “You’re right.”
At least they had strawberry shortcake. The best across the East Blue.
people who don't experience hyperfixation don't know what it feels like to hyperfixate so much on something that it becomes not only your subject of obsession but also your source of happiness and literally the main reason why you still keep going; literal source of strength and life.
shoutout to my favorite fictional characters, favorite people, favorite ships, favorite movies, favorite tv shows, fanfics and archive of our own
I’m not sure if this will be helpful to anyone, but you literally do not have to be a good writer to write and post fan fiction. Yes you will naturally get better at writing and finding your voice the more you do it but you do not have to be or become a professional level writer to enjoy writing and sharing fics. It’s common to hear people praise fic writers by saying their work is better than published books, and while I think this comes from a good place, that’s not the norm or expectation. There is also a sentiment that fic writing is “good practice” for becoming a better writer or doing something else later, but if fic is the only creative writing you ever do that is literally okay. Your technical skill does not mean you cannot have fun and build community with your writing, or that other people cannot love and find meaning in your work.
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