DUCKY-CHAN

You had been patient. You had been understanding. You had never complained, until now – not once.  Qifrey has been hiding in his room for weeks, three weeks and five days to be exact. Working on a spell that certainly doesn’t need any improvements, eating only when he was brought something, sleeping for as little as three to four hours in broad daylight. You are aware of his tendency to overwork and shutting himself in, but this is excessive even for his own standards – coming dangerously close to Olruggios.

So yes, you are angry. Livid even. You certainly deserve to be. Or do you?

“Dinner is ready.” A knock on the door, a statement said plainly, a quiet hopeful one at that. “Could you put some aside for me, please?” How could you not grant a wish voiced by him? “Sure.” A single word laced with disappointment. “Thanks, my love!” The door between you does nothing at hiding his distraction. Your face does nothing at hiding your disappointment.

At some point this whole ordeal evolved into routine. Some days you were angry, on others sad and on some indifferent. You tried to communicate these feelings, but you didn’t fully feel seen nor heard, this wasn’t the Qifrey you know. This version of him feels distant yet loving on the surface. A combination that shouldn’t be possible.

Eat alone. Clean alone. Read alone. Take a walk alone. Sleep alone. Wake up alone.

Rinse and repeat. Every day, like it’s a chore.

You don’t enjoy it, you tolerate it.

It’s past your regular bedtime by several hours, yet you are wide awake. Tears falling, swallowed sobs. The blanket doubles as a way to dry your face off with how far you are tucked in it. Hiding certainly sounds like an appropriate solution. Your wits end reached. All your pleas went unanswered, all your offerings ignored.

Does he know? Does he care?

Birds chirping, the first sunrays creeping in your room. He’s still not here. Again. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. Shouldn’t it ache in your heart?

A rustling of sheets, a body pressed against yours and a kiss placed on your shoulders. “You are late. Again.” Quiet, yet assertive. “You should be asleep, aren’t you busy today?” The surprise clear in his voice. “Is everything alright?” You snort.

Alright. Everything feels wrong.

You sit up staring down at him. You wish you could yell, yet your confessions come out as a whisper. “Nothing is alright. You barely talk to me. I see you for about ten minutes daily. We share a place – a bed even- together but we don’t live together. Any form of physical contact is practically nonexistent if it wasn’t for the thirty minutes in bed that I spend sleeping. I try to engage with you, show interest. I want to help, to assist. I try and try and try to keep you close but you are slipping through my fingers. Progressively.” Qifrey opens his mouth wanting to say something but ultimately deciding against it. “Remember Qifrey, the opposite of love is indifference.”

You get ready for your day. He tries to talk to you, but you don’t hear a thing. You don’t want to. You leave.

You wake up to blinding lights, eyes opening slowly trying to adjust. Your eyes scan the room, it’s unfamiliar. A room of scarcely placed furniture and four windows. It smells like alcohol, herbs and a fairly new varnish on the wooden windowsills. The white of the ceiling is a stark contrast to the dark colored material gracing the floors.

Your observations may hint at a certain location, yet they don’t explain the reason of you being there.

Sitting up results in a flash of white behind your eyes, nausea spreading instantly. A stinging pain in your right shoulder, a deeply dull ache right below your rips on the same side. Your hand hovers over where skin should be, yet it’s met with rough cloth. A bandage. This leaves little room for imagination as to why you are resting in the medical spire.

Once you decide to alert anyone of your woken state you notice a head residing a mere few inches away from you on the firm mattress, the rest of the body is seated on the chair placed next to the bed. His white hair is sprawled out in soft curls, ready for your fingers to run through them. His skin appearing paler against the bright white of sheets, a blueish-grey tinge adorning the space below his eyes. Sleepless nights caught up, after all. His body heaves and falls in a steady rhythm, eerily peaceful.

With your gaze placed entirely on him, a soft voice interrupts your focus. “He’s been here since we notified him a week ago. I don’t think he left your side for more than two to three minutes each, the few times he actually did.” You continue to stare at him not uttering a single word. “I will check on you later again. Please continue to rest.” Suddenly it’s only you and Qifrey, an inexplicable emotion settles in. The anger about previous actions or lack there off. The relief of him being there, caring about your wellbeing. The disappointment he festered with creating distance. The fear of being abandoned.

Any or all of them? Maybe a sensation entirely different. You once thought you would always know exactly what the other needs, thinks and feels but you aren’t so sure anymore. You love him deeply, but does he truly return the sentiment? The mere thought sends a sting to your chest.

Being lost in your inner world results in the consequences of not focusing on your surroundings and before you notice the hint of a movement you feel arms wrapped around you, ever so tightly. Your nape is left adorned with single drops from above. “I thought I’d lost you.” A trembling whisper. “I thought I’d never see you again.” The tears don’t stop. “I thought I’d never hear you again.” A kiss to your cheek in between sobs of confessions. “I thought I’d never hold you again.”

Before you know it, your arms find a way to entangle themselves with him in a tight embrace, the painful sensations of the wounds being set aside. Forgotten are the doubts that lingered in your heart. You hush him softly. “I’m sorry. I was so lost and obsessed with my spellwork, I forgot what matters the most. I’m so sorry.” If he holds you any closer, you might burst. “I had the weirdest sensation, a sour feeling in my stomach. Something wasn’t right and I just ran.” His ramblings don’t make any sense to you.

“I solemnly swear, I’m telling the truth. I kept crossing the distance by a mere feeling of my gut until I found you, pierced by something that had vanished already.” Your fingers trace over the supposed wound as if trying to remember as much as a single detail. The sensation he was describing was something you’ve read about in books, albeit fiction. A love so grand, it’s been sealed by fate -bonded by invisible strings connecting them, alerting them. The thought elicits the slightest of laughter from you.

“You don’t have to believe me. I’m just glad I found you.” Qifrey leans his forehead against yours. “There was so much blood. They said that a few minutes longer and the result would’ve been hopeless.” He presses his eyes shut as if to shoo away the memory. “I was so frightened.” You place a quick kiss on his lips acknowledging his feelings and trying to soothe him simultaneously. “I don’t remember anything after leaving the atelier.” It’s the truth, maybe it’s for the better.

“I’m glad you found me.” Another kiss and a whisper after. “The thought of never being with you again after I behaved like I did. It’s unbearable. He bites his lip. “I should never have been fixated on my spells and studies for the fifth test as I was. Not even the slightest bit.” Qifreys words are sincere. “Will you forgive me?” You are aware of his fixation revolving around progressing as a witch, the ulterior motive of his obsession being his hatred of a certain kind of magic, trauma running through his veins.

How could you not forgive him? What are three weeks and five days weighed against a promised lifetime?

One day, the doorbell rang. It was strange because you weren't expecting any visitors and no mail. You walked over to the door and opened it. 

No one was there, but something was pinching your nose. It kind of reminded you of how your nose stung from the cigarette smoke your ex-boyfriend smoked.

When you didn't see anyone anywhere, you looked around and noticed a small package, wrapped like a gift. It was placed right at your feet, you were surprised you didn't accidentally step on it.

You took the box and noticed that there was a small note tied to the ribbon. You took the box inside and closed the door. You placed the box on the table and untied the black ribbon.

When you opened the letter, you found out that it was a gift from one of your fans. You were moved by his letter, but at the same time, a certain paranoia lived in you that this could be another attempt on your life.

Despite that, you decided to find out what was in the box. You removed the maroon paper from it and opened the lid. The box was lined with light blue paper, on which lay a light teddy bear in a black jacket and blue shirt.

The most striking feature seemed to be his curly eyebrows. You thought it was cute. You took it out and you had to admit that it was made of very pleasant material. In the end, you decided to keep him.

That turned out to be the right thing to do as your nightmares slowly faded away. You were always saved from them by a young man in the same suit as your teddy bear with blond hair and curly eyebrows.

He rescued you from your nightmare and took you to some safe place where he prepared something good for you to eat. It was wonderful to feel the taste of food again in a dream. However, it was even more disappointing to wake up back to a reality where this was not possible.

Although you got rid of one problem, another one appeared. As dreams became more pleasant than reality, you began to have an aversion to real food more often. As much as you missed the taste of the delicious food from your dreams, you became more and more disappointed with real food and refused to eat it. 

But you knew very well that it was a problem. Although you didn't want to end up with an eating disorder, you were worried that you were slowly getting closer to it.

It often happened that when you woke up in the morning, you smelled a stench in your room that reminded you of cigarette smoke. You even found a few cigarette butts in a small ashtray that you had no idea you had because you were a non-smoker.

Slowly, hopelessness began to take hold of you again, and even though your dreams were wonderful and represented a wonderful escape, they left you torn. 

On the one hand, you were looking forward to the dreams of an excellent chef. Although sometimes he reminded you more of a prince on a white horse than a cook. 

On the other hand, you didn't want to return to reality every morning, when almost all the good things from the dream had left.

You were slowly starting to feel sad even in your dreams and the waiter didn't miss it either. While he was preparing food for you in the dream, he was trying to find out what was bothering you. 

However, it was just a dream and you didn't want to deal with your problems in it. Instead, you somehow talked it out and helped him a little in the kitchen. You had no idea how much you missed it.

As your mood didn’t improve, you received an envelope from the waiter in your last dream.

"What is it? ” you asked in surprise before opening it. Inside was a brochure with an invitation to the restaurant.

“Sweet Mellorine. It bothers me to see you sad, and I would like to invite you to the restaurant," he got down on one knee as if asking for your hand in marriage.

You were moved and speechless. Why, of all the boys, did you have to fall in love with the one from your dreams? 

You finally agreed and the waiter was happy about it. He gently took your hand and kissed it from your fingers to your arm. Something like this has never happened here in your life.

When you woke up in the morning, you thought what a strange and pleasant dream it was. You were even more surprised when you noticed the envelope on the bedside table.

You hesitantly reached for it and opened it. Inside was the same invitation to the restaurant you dreamed about. You didn't understand. How could you be here if it was just a dream?

At first, you were hesitant to go there. However, when you replayed the dream in your head, you decided to give it a try.

You put on better clothes, adjusted yourself and ordered a taxi that took you to the front of the restaurant. Just the way the restaurant looked at you from the outside was unique and unusual.

You walked in and showed the invitation to the front desk. The receptionist took it from you, looking at it for a moment before he excused himself for a moment and left. When he came back, he apologized for the wait and took you to the table.

You passed other tables on your way and felt everyone else's eyes watching you. This hasn't happened to you in a long time. You haven't been to a restaurant for a long time either.

When you were seated, you were given a menu and set about choosing your food. You heard others whispering your name and you had mixed feelings about it. After all, you weren't the same person you were before. Instead, you focused on choosing food. They certainly didn't have a bad choice here.

"Have you already chosen?" said a familiar voice. You turned to the blond waiter who reminded you a lot of your dream. But how would that be possible? Surely it was just a coincidence.

"Not yet, somehow I can't decide," you smiled at him.

“I can offer you a special menu that is much better than all the other bluffs they serve here,” he offered you with a confident smile.

“Then I'll have it,” you replied, handing the menu back to him. The waiter took it from you and left for the kitchen with a satisfied smile.

He then brought you meal after meal. Aperitif, appetizer, soup, several smaller main courses and ended everything with a delicious dessert. At first, you hesitantly took a bite on your fork, afraid to taste it.

You finally popped a bite into your mouth and your tongue burst with such new flavours that it stunned you. For a moment you were completely taken aback. It was so good that you were at a loss for words and had tears in your eyes.

You wiped your eyes as you started eating with new joy. Each dish was more delicious than the first. You had the impression that you had never eaten anything better.

After the meal, the blond waiter came to see if he could offer you anything else. You had more than enough and wanted to pay. As soon as you mentioned it, he started to convince you that it was all on account of the company.

When you got home, you were in a good mood from the restaurant and wanted to write them a positive review. You sat down at the computer and started looking for a restaurant.

However, no matter how hard you searched, you couldn't find even a mention of Baratie anywhere. You slowly got the impression that the restaurant didn't even exist.

The very next day, you went to look at the address, but to your dismay, there was no restaurant there. There was no building at all. Now you were even more interested in where you had been for the meal.

But you couldn't find out anything. You tried to put it behind you, but you still couldn't forget it. It was an unforgettable experience when you regained your appetite even when you were awake. Appetite for food and life.

Since visiting Baratie, you also stopped dreaming about the waiter with a cigarette and wavy eyebrows. You didn't have nightmares anymore, but your dreams weren't that interesting anymore.

One morning you woke up to an apartment smelling of freshly prepared food. You sat down sleepily on the bed, feeling like you were still half asleep. Otherwise, you couldn't even imagine it.

You got up from the bed and headed to the kitchen where you heard the sounds of cooking. That someone would break into your house? But then why would he cook in your kitchen? Such thoughts ran through your mind.

You walked up to the kitchen door and carefully peeked inside. A blond man in a blue shirt stood facing you by the stove. You immediately knew who it was from your dreams and the restaurant.

"Sanji?" you suddenly remembered his name, which he repeated to you many times in your dreams. However, you always forget him in the morning. Sanji turned around, a charming smile spreading across his face.

“Ah, Mellorine, you are finally awake. Did you dream about something amazing?” he asked you as he served the finished omelette on a plate. You mumbled something in agreement that you slept well and moved closer to him.

"I'm glad to hear that," he breathed. “I'm glad those annoying nightmares have finally given up. Now that I don't have to waste time with them, I can prepare something for you to eat," he said casually and placed the plate on the table.

"Am I still dreaming?" you asked in awe as it was too good to be true.

"What do you mean?" he asked confused, walking over to you and taking your hands.

"The fact that I dreamed about all of this..." you had no idea how to explain it without getting involved in it yourself.

"This is not a dream," he said when he finally understood what you were getting at. "Dreams aren't the only thing that needs protecting. Besides, I'll be much better at helping you here than there," he said seriously and you started to melt in his blue eyes for a moment when he was so close to you.

During breakfast, he tried to explain to you what he was doing to help you and relieve you of your problems. You were stunned by this, but it made sense. You just still haven't figured out how a little teddy bear turned into such a handsome man.

When you said this out loud to him, he turned red and his nose started to bleed. You immediately rushed to him full of worry. You were worried he'd have a heart attack.

After a while, Sanji calmed down and you wanted to thank him for everything he did for you. You felt like words couldn't express what all of this meant to you, so you kissed him lightly on the lips.

The unexpected gesture made the chef stop before he wrapped his arms around you and started showering you with lots of quick kisses and compliments. And even though he still had blood on his nose, you could tell by the hearts in his eyes that he was in seventh heaven.

— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — 

Sanji Masterlist

before he could even get a sense of control over his thoughts, he had already intertwined your fingers with each other. his heart pounds against his chest loudly.

the headaches were particularly painful the following days.

no, he had never told you about it.

and so will the love he has for you die along with his hope, silver roots wrapped around his broken heart that's never ever uttered a single word of love for you. it feels like heartbreak, but how can his heart break if there was no beginning in the first place? when there was no confession, no exchange of ‘i love you's.

the word love builds up like vile in his throat.

but he will be damned if he doesn't show you in some kind of way.

“aren't they adorable!?” tettia quietly coos at the two adults, watching qifrey scoop up another serving of dinner for you without your say so.

“i want something like that when i grow up!”

“they're not together like that, though.” richeh trails off, a thought spiraling on her mind. “master qifrey himself said so.”

“and yet his actions don't match his words.” agott watched on as well, noting the particular way qifrey looks at you.

like you are his world, the very magic in his eye.

“wait, are they not… together?” coco tilts her head. “i assumed they were together. they seem to be so close.”

“unfortunately, master qifrey himself said so.” tettia slumps against the table with a pout. “if that's not what love looks like, then what does it look like?”

“aren't you a little too young to think of love?”

startled, the four girls turn to face you. tettia waves her hand in front of her frantically, “n-no! that's not what i meant!”

“oh ho?” qifrey comes from behind you, cheshire smile plastered on his face. “who is the lucky boy, may i ask?”

“there's no boy!” tettia whines, turning to richeh. “help me out here!”

“coco has a boy.” the girl gasped.

“no i do not!”

“who's tartah then?”

dinner was noisy that night with the girls continuing their playful banter. qifrey watched on with a fond smile, his hand unknowingly reaching out for yours. when his fingers touched yours in the slightest did he snap back to his senses, playing it off by scratching the back of his head.

he doesn't know if you felt it too, but if you did, he's relieved you did not say a word about it.

after dinner, the girls went about their rooms, bidding the two adults goodnight.

“oh, you don't have to do that.”

qifrey steps beside you at the sink, watching you cast a water spell to clean up the dishes.

“it's no problem, dear. you had a long afternoon of teaching already and you cooked dinner. at least let me help clean around.”

dear.

it felt so natural to have you call him by that nickname. like he is that word to you, dear. too domestic, no question asked. there was something about the air around you when he's within your proximity. you radiate so much peace that even he can feel it. it's an infectious thing.

and that's the problem itself.

it feels too good, too peaceful with you, that he fears the roots will take its place once again. he says nothing about everything he feels, because he knows you like the back of his hand.

he knows you love him too.

and it was the reciprocal feelings that he cannot speak about. it's risky, it's painful. oh so painful, that even if he wants to have you for himself, then the silverwood will have him in exchange.

if love is peace, why does it hurt him so?

“qifrey?”

his name sounds so sweet coming from your mouth.

“yes?”

it was then that he noticed the sudden proximity between the two of you. he could feel your warmth from this distance. he can sense the way you shudder when his breath fans along your face. he can feel the way your fingers twitch at his touch, though he wonders when had he taken your hand in his to hold? he can see your eyes so clearly, the swirling pool of color within those crystals mesmerizing, almost hypnotic in a way only magic can tell.

love is, in some way, a magical thing.

“you're beautiful.”

he hears the way your breath falters, your eyes dilating in response to his words. he traces the skin on your cheek with a delicate touch, searching your eyes for some form of misgiving towards his affection.

all of the sudden, fear gathers at the back of his throat, like a fish bone stuck to his throat stubbornly refusing to come off.

this shouldn't have happened.

he wasn't supposed to be this close to you. wasn't supposed to touch you so freely and desire to have more of you. to have you whole to himself. it shouldn't be this easy to have you succumb to his warmth, a faux comfort that hides the true horror within his heart and missing eye.

“i'm sorry, my star, i did not–” he frowns, truly questioning his feeble attempt to resist his desire.

you're too close, oh, so close.

perhaps he should erase your memory of this night?

the thought of taking something away from you, your memories, suffocates him so. but before he could lament his predicament, your hand held his palm against your cheek, a smile so sweet and gentle contrasting the swirling storm in him.

“you don't have to say anything.”

your words were final, like a stubborn stone wedge into the soil or a sword struck deep into the ground. only someone with immense strength can challenge you and qifrey was but a man powerless against all that you are.

“you don't have to tell me how you feel about me.”

your nose nuzzles into his palm, and god did his heart almost leap out of his chest and into your hands. you look at him from his palm, your lips pressed against his skin with a smile.

oh, he's about to faint.

“you don't have to say it out loud. i know what you feel about this. about us.”

“you deserve better than this.” he shook his head in denial. “you deserve someone who can proudly call you the object of their affection. not… this silence.”

he tears his gaze away from your probing ones. he can tell that just by looking at you, he's buying himself his own pot of soil.

“you mustn't chain yourself with a man who cannot even proclaim their affection towards you. what i am is a coward.”

“what you are is my qifrey.”

his heart skipped a beat, or perhaps was it the roots of silverwood piercing his heart?

“you can't just say things like that.” it almost sounded like a whine, and you giggle at how precious he looks right now. with his cheeks flushed and restless eye, looking anywhere but you.

why can't you show some mercy on this man's heart?

“you may have your reasons to keep me at arms length.” he grimaces at the intention of your words, “but i'm already at peace that you still share a part of your life with me. that i still get to stand beside you.”

you gently tug him down, pressing your forehead against his in a nuzzle.

“this… what we share between us may take forever to be spoken out loud,” you place a finger right at his lips, watching his breath grow heavier from the touch. “but i am willing to stand by you for a lifetime and more.”

you lean to kiss the finger atop of his lips, fully pulling back to see his bewildered and already reddening face.

“my dear, you look like you're about to explode.”

“you can't just do that and expect me to remain calm!”

your giggle echoes through the quiet kitchen. qifrey might be a little delirious, he could have sworn he heard the chimes of fairies favoring every sound you make with those extremely tempting lips of yours.

what do they taste like?

“fret not.” your hand caresses his cheeks, “no unspoken words can push me away from you.”

“i don't want to hurt you.” he tries to look the other way, but with your hand tilting his gaze back to you has him melting on the spot. his futile attempt to avoid your intense look has him weak on the knees.

what kind of magic did you cast on him?

“no pain exists when i am within your presence.”

“my dear…”

“shh.”

you pull him a little closer, resting your head just above his collarbone. he's trembling, whether from the promising position the two of you are in or from his fears, you don't mind. not when he's this close to you. the closest he's ever been to you. you'd do anything to preserve this moment.

“you don't have to tell me everything.”

you place a hand on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“all that matters is we're here.”

his warm and gentle hands press against the back of your waist, finally letting himself hold you in his arms.

your body fits every crevice, resting against his chest.

“i'd wait for a lifetime for you.” you whisper into his robes. “i'll remember you even in my next life.”

“you think that's possible?”

“everything's possible with magic.”

he hopes so. perhaps then, he wouldn't have to wait for another lifetime to feel this once more. to be at peace in your arms, free from all his fear.

perhaps then, he could hold your hand whenever he wants, feel the warmth of your palm against his.

perhaps then, he can tell you the words he's been dying to say. he won't have to fear the consequences of telling you he loves you, oh, so much. that he wants you to be his and him, yours.

He noticed almost everything about you. The way you closed your eyes and smiled under the sun. The way you tapped your foot to good music at a town bar. The way that you winced when you hid your hands behind your back… wait, what?

Slowing his knife work to a complete stop, Sanji moved his whole body to face you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked because something was certainly wrong.

“I-nothing...” You stuttered. Something you only did when caught red-handed amongst the crew. “I think I’ll just go.”

When you moved to leave, Sanji stepped forward and held out his hands, “Whoa now, you came in here for bandages. Let me help you.”

You looked at him and, again, Sanji had to steel himself from melting into the floorboards. After a quiet minute of consideration, you nodded. “Okay.”

Sanji let out a breath of relief and led you to the small table by the window. On his way, he grabbed the small bag of medical supplies that he picked up at the last town.

He took a seat opposite you and opened the supplies. “What are we patching up?” He asked.

This time you looked at him like he was going to bite - which he would never do without your permission. Then very slowly, you raised your hands to the table and turned them palm up, revealing bright red blood where the skin had peeled off.

Sanji felt his heart drop. How had your beautiful hands been so damaged and how much pain have you been in since then?

He gingerly took your hands in his and got to work. You didn’t seem to like it when he asked questions but maybe he could get an understanding of what happened through conversation.

~~~

Zoro was up in the Crows Nest. His eyes were closed, hands behind his head as he started to doze off. His mind clearing until…

Boom!

The kitchen door burst open. A furious kick from an equally furious chef.

“They tripped over your swords?” Sanji’s voice boomed from below. “Moss head, where are you?”

Zoro exhaled, exercising patience and disguising a hint of nerves. “Shit.”

~ More One Piece imagines here ~

finally, he drops the act and smiles softly at you, approaching the bed while taking his cloak off. he places the cloak on a hook stuck to the wall, before taking a seat on his side of the bed.

he reached toward puffpuff, a finger scratching against it's cheek.

“look at you taking my rightful place,” puffpuff glares up at him. “would you be so kind and rest somewhere else? i would love to have my lover back, please.”

watching with fond eyes, your heart flutters at the term of endearment.

puffpuff ignores the man, rolling its eyes and crawling up to your collarbone, where it snuggles its little head and curls up to rest. not before sticking it's tongue out at qifrey.

“oh, you fiend.”

“it's just like you, that's so adorable!”

qifrey raises an eyebrow, “oh? would you rather sleep cuddling something so small that you might crush it in your sleep? ooor would you rather cuddle me instead and be warm and cozy for the rest of the night?”

“look, it's white and fluffy!”

he sighs, before relenting at your teasing.

“you do have a point.”

“and it has your sass! it just doesn't filter it the way you do.”

“you think i'm sassy?”

resting the book at the bedside table, your hand brushes through his hair, cupping his cheek with the other to pucker his lips together.

“i think you're the sassiest. you just don't say it out loud.”

he's about to say something to refute, when you lean up to press a soft but fleeting kiss against his lips, rendering him speechless and flushed. his lips pursed, the sudden affection relinquishing whatever sassy comeback he was about to giveaway.

“i can't kiss puffpuff the way i do to you, though.”

“you've kissed puffpuff before!? now that's just betrayal at its finest!”

your sudden laughter startles the brushbuddy on your chest, waking it up in the process. it glares at you, before scurrying off somewhere.

“it's just a little peck on the top of it's head!”

“you cannot undone what's done!”

-  When it comes to you, every ounce of self-control Sanji has honed over the years seems to go flying out the window. He can't control the way his eyes follow you around the ship, and how his heart skips a beat whenever you bless him with a loving smile. He has no power over his body when you pat the seat beside you or extend your arms towards him for a hug. And worst of all he loses any ability to think clearly whenever you're around, particularly the situation is turning dangerous. 

- Which is exactly what happens when he loses sight of you in an all-out brawl against some marines trying to take the crew in. It's messy and chaotic and the straw hats are all trying to run in different directions and work out how to get back to the ship without leaving anyone behind. He's been sprinting at full speed for about a minute when Sanji turns around and realises he can't see or hear you anymore, ending up in a winding alleyway all on his own. 

- He wants to be your knight in shining armour. To calmly retrace his steps until you're back in view and he can whisk you away to safely. He wants to be the brave hero you deserve. But the second he realises you're not by his side, and you might not be safe, it's like his brain shifts all its energy into pumping out adrenaline. His heart is aching and his lungs are burning and his chest is getting tighter and tighter until he feels his knees buckle underneath him and suddenly he's on the floor with his head between his legs struggling to take a breath.

- He knew this would happen. He never deserved your affections and now you'll know it for certain. If you're even still free and alive enough to hate him. A sob claws its way out of his throat at the thought of you being hurt, echoing off the walls as its followed by another. Sanji can't lose you. You're the light in his days, and the beat in every song, and the seasoning to his cooking. He's nothing without you. He doesn't know how he ever existed without waking up to your eyes and your lips. 

- That's the picture he tried to focus on in his mind as he forces his back against a brick wall until he's standing on his feet. He thinks about the warmth you emit as you cuddle closer to him at first light. The feel of your fingertips tracing over his spine as you make the most of every precious moment before he has to slip out to the kitchen. He tries to remember exactly what it tasted like when you kissed him this morning. With each painstaking detail, he forces himself to walk in the direction you should be in, gaining speed, knowing this is all he can do to get himself back to you. Even if he doesn't deserve you, you deserve to be safe. 

- Despite his momentary collapse, it doesn't take him until he's kicking marines out of the air and grabbing your hand as you both run towards the ship. It's obvious from even a cursory glance that he's been crying, and later that night he'll tell you all about how he fell apart, and watch in reverence as you tell him you still love him and that you always will no matter what his inner critic thinks. But for now you settle for throwing him a wink and sighing out in your dreamiest voice, 

"My hero."

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