I love Steven Universe and other stuff

You had always loved food, eating it, making it, whatever it was. You loved being in the kitchen, hearing the sounds of something sizzling in a pan, the smell of fresh bread coming out of the oven. You loved it all. So when you had met the Straw Hats and had a harrowing adventure, you joined their crew with a bit of reluctance. But once you saw their kitchen and the chef who operated it, you thought you had died and gone to heaven.

Sanji was a cook; he was a great cook, amazing even. You were drawn to him from the very first moment. You stumbled over your words, constantly broke glasses and plates whenever he was around, and, overall, became very clumsy in the kitchen. After the milkshake incident, you had sworn yourself to stop loitering around the kitchen and bothering the poor chef. But you just had so many questions about how he did stuff.

Sanji could see this: the longing in your eyes and the way your hands itched to do something. He liked it, liked seeing someone with the same ambition as him, the same dream as his. Sanji often saw you peeking your head through the crack in the kitchen door; you probably thought you were being really stealthy, but he always knew you were there, and it always brought a small smile to his lips.

It was a routine after a short period of time; you just hanging around at a distance, while he prepped for dinner. Eventually, Sanji had had enough of you just lingering behind him, the smell of your perfume vaguely hitting his nose. He wanted more; he wanted to see you in his kitchen, wanted to feel you. On one particular afternoon, Sanji had spotted your (H/C) hair peeking out from behind the kitchen door.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” he shouted over his shoulder, “Come and help me prep!” You waddled into the kitchen, a little embarrassed for being caught. Sanji turned to face you, his smile widening. He handed you a knife and pointed to the chopping board on the counter, “Would you do me the honour of cutting these carrots?” he mused. You nodded your head furiously, excited to finally get the chance to work with the man you admired and adored for months now.

“Oh, wait, just a moment!” Sanji jumped, running into the pantry to grab something, “Don’t start yet!” he called out. After a few minutes, he came back with an apron and tied it around you, his fingers brushing against your skin; it felt like small electric shocks hitting your system.

“We wouldn’t want your beautiful outfit being ruined now, would we?” he was a real good smooth talker. You had seen him flirt and whoo over women, and you so desperately wished he would do the same to you. And even though Sanji seemed to not have a type, the women always had one thing in common. They were skinny, and you were not. You had a little extra weight, extra meat on your bones, Luffy had once told you. You tried to take it as a compliment, but you were pretty sure he was just hungry at the time.

The apron around your waist was tight; it wasn’t like it was made for someone of your size. It’s not like you didn’t train or exercise, and you ate very healthy; you were just born that way, always a little thicker than the rest. Truth be told, you never really felt bad about it until you joined your crew; of course, it wasn’t their fault; they would never do anything to make you feel bad about yourself. But you saw the outfits Robin and Nami wore, saw the way the men hollered at the skinny woman on the streets.

“(Y/N)-chan?” Sanji’s voice broke through your thoughts. You tilted your head to look at him; he took the knife from your hand. It was only in that moment that you noticed the carrot on the board had been hacked and chopped haphazardly, “Are you alright?” Sanji asked again; you must not have heard him the first time.

He studied your face; he really studied it. He saw the way your eyes screamed in pain, the way your lips trembled, and your brows furrowed. Sanji sighed, taking your hand in his, “Pretty ladies like yourself shouldn’t be worried about anything so insignificant.”

“W-what?” You mumbled out; the feeling of his warm hand against yours was messing with your brain. Sanji turned to the mutilated carrot, “It shows in your cooking when your mind isn’t all there,” he continued. You followed his gaze, “Sorry, I just- I don’t know.” You sighed. Sanji’s eyes bounced between you and the carrot, “Will you help me cook everyone lunch today? I could use an extra pair of hands.”

“Me? Did you see what I did to the carrot?” You questioned, your jaw dropping. Sanji shrugged it off, “You’ll pay attention this time. Besides, hands like these will only go on to create miracles in the kitchen,” he mused, causing your cheeks to blush. When his hands left yours, the warmth left too. But Sanji soon came back; he positioned himself behind you, holding your hands and puppeteering you. His breath fanned across the back of your neck; the compliments that fell from his lips ghosted past the shell of your ear.

You stayed like that until all the veg was prepped, “Thank you,” You spoke quietly. Sanji hummed, “Cooking can fix anything; a good meal can go a long way. That’s what Zeff taught me, the old fool.”

“Well, he was right.” You chuckled, a little sad now that Sanji had stepped away to pour the veg into a bubbling broth on the stove. He walked back over to you with confidence you could only dream of having; he stood behind you once more, and slowly untied the apron. He caught the marks left around your waist from the strings, “You could have told me if I tied it too tight,” he huffed. You turned to face him, fanning away his distress, “It’s fine, really. I’m used to stuff like that.”

His hands absentmindedly rubbed over the red skin, his eyes furrowed, “Well, I’ll get you a new apron, one that won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, Sanji, you don’t need to do that. It’s fine, really.” You were as red as Franky’s Hawaiian shirt, your skin burning wherever his touch lingered.

“Nonsense! I would do anything for you, no matter what.” You stared into Sanji’s eyes; all you could see was love. A timer rang out from somewhere in the kitchen, Sanji dashed off to the cooker, “Go take a seat; lunch will be served shortly.”

As you approached the bench, Sanji rushed to your side to pull the chair out for you, a bowl of soup in his other hand. You thanked him and stared at the bowl in front of you. It smelt amazing. Sanji called out to the others, the room soon filling up with crew members. The quiet atmosphere from before was completely shattered as loud cheers and laughter filled the room.

“Hmm, Sanji, this soup is delicious,” Robin hummed, a chorus of cheers agreed with her. Sanji pulled a cigeratte out of his pocket, lighting it away from the table, “Thank you, Robin-chan. But I also had the help of my beautiful assistant.” he looked at you from across the table, your cheeks turing pink.

The digital chime of your phone cutting through the silence of your dark bedroom was a sound you had quickly learned to associate with a sudden, inevitable rush of warmth.

It was exactly 2:14 AM.

You rolled over in bed, burying half your face in your pillow as you fumbled for the glowing device on your nightstand. The screen lit up your face, displaying a contact name flanked by a string of chaotic emojis—sparkles, wild animals, and a volleyball.

You swiped to accept, and the screen instantly filled with a flurry of motion, a crackle of wind, and a blinding grin.

"Hey! You're awake! I didn't wake you up, did I? Tell me I didn't wake you up, but also I'm so glad you answered!"

Nishinoya Yuu’s face was pressed incredibly close to the camera, his dark eyes sparkling with a familiar, boundless energy. His hair, usually styled into his signature, gravity-defying spike, was completely down. It fell softly around his forehead and ears, damp and messy from either a recent swim or the humid night air of wherever he had landed yesterday. He was wearing a faded, oversized tank top, his shoulders deeply sun-kissed, a stark contrast to the pale, cozy blankets you were buried under.

"Yuu," you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep, a small, involuntary smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "It's past two in the morning."

"Ah! I knew it!" He looked momentarily apologetic, his shoulders dropping, but the excitement quickly surged back, puffing his chest out. "But look! You have to see this. I couldn't wait until your morning. I literally ran back to the hostel just to get a good Wi-Fi signal so I could call you."

He spun the camera around. The shaky footage smoothed out to reveal a breathtaking view. He was standing on a wooden balcony overlooking a dark, glistening expanse of water—the Mediterranean, if your memory of his chaotic itinerary served you right. Far in the distance, the cliffside of a coastal Italian town was dotted with warm, amber lights that looked like fallen stars scattered along the rocks. The sound of gentle waves crashing against the shore bled through your phone speaker, a rhythmic, soothing backdrop to his breathless narration.

"Isn't it crazy?" Yuu’s voice came back, loud and clear, though he was trying—and failing—to keep it down for the sake of his sleeping hostel roommates. "The water here is so blue during the day, it doesn't even look real. It looks like someone poured paint into the ocean. And tonight, the moon is so bright it’s casting a silver path all the way to the horizon. I swear, I wanted to jump off the balcony and try to run across it!"

"Please don't jump off any balconies," you laughed softly, resting your chin on your arms, staring at the screen. "I'd like you back in one piece."

"Don't worry, my balance is legendary! You know that!" He flipped the camera back to himself, leaning his chin against his palm as he propped the phone up on the balcony railing. His grin softened into something incredibly tender as he looked at you. "Man... I really miss you. Seeing your face right now is the best part of my day, hands down."

The sudden shift from high-energy explorer to sweet, earnest boyfriend caught you off guard, making your heart do a familiar flutter. "I miss you too, Yuu. How has the food been?"

"Oh, my god, the food!" He sat up straight, his eyes wide. "Okay, so today, I found this tiny little bakery down an alley that smelled like heaven. I didn't even know what I was ordering, I just pointed at this pastry and yelled 'Questo, per favore!' with the best accent I could muster. The old lady behind the counter laughed so hard she gave me two of them! It was filled with this sweet cream, and the crust was so flaky it got all over my shirt. I thought about you the whole time because I know you would’ve stolen half of it."

"I absolutely would have," you agreed, shifting under your blankets. "And you would have let me."

"Duh! I’d give you the whole thing," he said instantly, without a shred of hesitation. He leaned closer to the screen, his gaze tracing your features. "Hey, you look sleepy. Are you cold?"

"A little," you admitted, pulling the duvet up to your nose. "It's freezing here tonight. I wish I had your weather."

"I wish I could share it with you," Yuu murmured, his voice dropping into a register that was rare for him—soft, quiet, and intensely intimate. He looked down at his own hands, then back up at the screen. "When I was walking along the beach earlier, the sand was still warm from the sun. I was thinking... next time, we’re coming here together. No excuses. I'm going to show you every single spot I found. I'll carry your bags, I'll buy you all the pastries, and we can just sit on the sand until the sun goes down."

"Promise?"

"I never break my promises!" He thumped his fist against his chest, right over his heart, a fierce determination shining in his eyes. "Just picture it. You and me, eating gelato, walking around these crazy old streets. I'll even protect you from the seagull I had a fight with yesterday."

You let out a quiet giggle. "A fight with a seagull?"

"It tried to steal my sandwich!" Yuu defended himself, puffing his cheeks out indignantly. "It was a tactical retreat on my part, okay? Those things are ruthless. But for you, I would've fought to the death. No bird is taking your lunch on my watch."

You stared at the glowing screen, feeling incredibly close to him despite the thousands of miles of land and ocean separating you. It was in moments like this—when he was rambling about seagulls, his hair damp and messy, his eyes full of absolute devotion—that the distance felt manageable. He brought his entire, vibrant world right to your bedside.

"You're ridiculous, Yuu," you whispered affectionately.

"I'm serious!" he insisted, though a bright, boyish grin broke across his face. He shifted on his end, moving back inside his room. The background changed to a cozy, rustic room with stone walls and a small bed. He collapsed backward onto his mattress, holding the phone above his face. "Ah, my legs are killing me. I walked like fifteen miles today. But it was totally worth it."

"You need to rest, too," you said, watching him stretch out. "Don't overexert yourself just because you have endless energy."

"Hey, even the great Nishinoya Yuu needs to recharge," he chuckled, rolling onto his side. He propped his head up on his arm, holding the phone steady. The angle showed his sharp jawline and the relaxed, sleepy curve of his shoulders. "But talking to you is how I recharge. Seriously. It’s like... when I'm traveling, everything is so fast and new. It's awesome, and I love it. But when I call you, it feels like I can finally take a deep breath. You're my home, you know?"

Your chest tightened with a sweet, aching warmth. "Yuu..."

"I mean it," he said, his eyes unwavering. He reached a finger out, gently tapping his screen right where your cheek was on his display. "Right there. I'm touching your face. Can you feel it?"

"Yeah," you whispered, matching his action and tapping your screen where his cheek was. "I can feel it."

A soft, pink dust settled over his cheeks, and he let out a shy, breathy laugh, burying his face in his arm for a brief second before looking back at you. "Man, you're too cute. It’s not fair. I want to hug you so bad right now. I want to squeeze you until you complain that I’m holding on too tight."

"I wouldn't complain," you said softly. "Not tonight."

"Then I'd hold you even tighter," he promised, his voice incredibly gentle.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't heavy or awkward; it was comfortable, filled only with the soft rustle of your blankets and the distant, faint hum of the Italian night through his open window. You watched his eyes flutter slightly, the exhaustion of his long day finally catching up to him, though he stubbornly kept his eyelids pried open to keep looking at you.

"Yuu, you can close your eyes," you murmured, your own eyelids growing heavy. "I'm not going anywhere."

"No way," he mumbled, though his blink lasted a second too long. "Want to keep looking at you. What if you disappear when I close them?"

"I won't disappear. I'll be right here on the screen."

"Promise?" he echoed your earlier question, a sleepy, vulnerable edge to his tone.

"I promise. I'll stay on the line until you fall asleep."

"Okay..." He let out a long, contented sigh, shifting his pillow so he could rest his cheek comfortably while still keeping the camera pointed at his face. His dark eyes softened as they locked onto yours one last time. "Hey. I love you."

"I love you too, Yuu. Sleep well."

"Love you more," he mumbled, his voice dragging slightly as his eyes finally drifted shut. "Next time... gelato... and no seagulls..."

You couldn't help but let out one last, quiet laugh at his sleepy rambling. You watched him on your screen as his breathing slowed into a deep, steady rhythm, his features completely relaxed and peaceful.

Even with an entire ocean between you, wrapped in the quiet chill of the late-night hours, you had never felt warmer. You nestled deeper into your blankets, resting your phone on the pillow next to your head so his sleeping face was the last thing you saw, and let yourself drift off to sleep to the faint, distant sound of the Mediterranean waves.