zosan 🤝 douwata

screencap redraw with some friends over on bsky :)

og frame under read more

To Iva-chan, Thanks for Everything! - Victoria Cindry

Tumblr has shadow banned me, so it would help me if you share my art, thanks!

i’m not sure what tumblrs feelings are about nsfw so here is the censored version

full version on bluesky - https://bsky.app/profile/brandnewbard.bsky.social

Every other straw hat had their own set, but moss head and shitty cook share one 💚💛

This is the equivalent of only one bed lol

some tender zosan lovin that i never posted, cropped to preserve the innocence of tumblr

Sanji was finished with the games. He waited, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, until the heavy tread of boots echoed in the companionway.

Zoro slipped in late, eyes shadowed, moving toward the sink for a simple mug of water. He moved like a man trying to avoid a tripwire. Sanji didn't let him. He stepped out, blocking the path with a sharp, casual aggression.

"Talk. Now," Sanji commanded, his voice a low grate. "This mute crap ends tonight. I’d rather have you swinging a blade at my head than acting like a bored houseguest."

Zoro filled his mug slowly, the water splashing too loudly in the quiet room. "Busy," Zoro said, his voice flat as a dead calm. He moved to brush past.

Their shoulders clipped—a hard, intentional jolt of bone against bone. Sanji didn't budge. He whirled around as Zoro kept walking. "Chicken-shit!" Sanji spat. "The great Pirate Hunter is finally scared of a conversation? Or are you just that much of a coward?"

Zoro paused at the threshold. His fist clenched so hard the ceramic of the mug hairline-fractured, but he didn't turn back. He just stepped out into the night, the door thudding shut behind him with finality.

Sanji’s restraint snapped. He punched the fridge, the metal denting under his knuckles. The confusion that had been simmering for weeks curdled into a sharp, heavy ache. He had put himself out there—tattoo out, walls down, showing the crew exactly how much they meant to him. He’d bared his soul in ink, and yet the one person he always expected to stand his ground was treating him like a stranger. He possibly couldn’t even tell Zoro what he wanted to.

࿔･ﾟ﹏𓊝﹏༄.°

Moon high over the Sunnys' deck, waves lapping lazily. Usopp, Robin, Franky, Brook, and Zoro sprawled in a loose circle—sake bottles rolling, Franky's cola cans dented. 

Usopp, three cups deep, puffed out his chest like a conqueror. "Listen up! As Great Captain Usopp, I've eyeballed tattoos from warrior kings to sea beasts. Bet Sanji's hiding more—flames lickin' up his legs under those pants or maybe his chest!"

Brook's bones rattled with a cackle. "Yohohoho! Leg art? I'd pay to see it... if I had eyes! bwa-haha!"

Robin sipped her wine demurely, eyes twinkling. "An intriguing theory. Sanji-kun strikes me as the type for full coverage—elegant and comprehensive."

Franky belched a thunderous SUPER, shades slipping down his nose. "Whoa, hold the cola! That back piece is prime real estate. We solve this mystery—for science! For the Sunny!"

Zoro nursed his sake in silence, glare locked on the stars. More ink? Figures. Everyone's marked up twice but me.

Usopp flailed his arms wildly. "Picture it! Our faces plastered across his chest!"

"Abs perfect for my strings!" Brook strummed an invisible violin, notes dancing in the air.

Franky slammed fist to palm like a jackhammer. "Operation: Tattoo Quest! Tomorrow, we inspect—non-invasively! SUPER pledge!"

Zoro grunted, low and gravelly. "Idiots." But he stayed put, draining his bottle. If there's more... prove it. 

Down in the galley, Sanji slept like a log. A storm of bros was inbound.

࿔･ﾟ﹏𓊝﹏༄.°

Sanji groaned, rolling out of his bunk, visions of Nami-san's smile already fueling his morning. Stumbled to the closet—empty. Shirts? Vanished into thin air. Jackets? Poof, ghosts. Suits? Not a single crisp thread. One lonely pant leg dangled from a hook, flapping like a white flag of defeat.

"What the hell?!" Sanji's eye twitched, cigarette tumbling from his lips. He yanked open drawers—socks? Check. Underwear? Mercifully intact. But nothing to cover his prized torso? "I'll flambé their asses into tartare!" He spun, bare feet slapping the deck, chest heaving with righteous fury. BUt breakfast wouldn't cook itself, and Nami-san deserved perfection.

"Tch, fine. Prank's on them." He snatched his pristine apron, tying it extra snug over his bare chest, the fabric hugging like a jealous lover. Back fully exposed, that massive tattoo gleaming innocent under the light—waves crashing eternally, untouched by suspicion. Whatever. Let 'em stare. Robin-chwan might appreciate the art. Ignored the chill nipping his skin, fired up the stoves with a dramatic flourish. Eggs sizzled; coffee looking like black gold. Business as usual.

Sanji owned the shirtless look under his apron, black pants slung low on his hips—hello, V-line. He hummed off-key (some sappy ballad for Robin-chwan), unlit cig dangling from smirking lips, lost in the rhythm.

"Nami-san's omelets: fluffy clouds of joy, herb-kissed." Flip. "Luffy's meat tower: a greasy monolith to gluttony." Stack. "Zoro's slop: onigiri and kelp, you ungrateful sword-swine." He pirouetted between pans, muscles rippling, tattoo undulating like the Grand Line itself. If those idiots barge in now, they'll choke on their own jaws. A final flourish—garnish, plate, voilà. Breakfast masterpiece is ready. Sanji exhaled, cig finally lit, leaning against the counter like a shirtless god of cuisine. Bring it, bros. This chef's untouchable.

Crew filed in waves. Luffy bounced first, hat askew, plopping cross-legged. Sanji's back loomed as he plated a mountain: Merry's straw-hatted prow bobbing mid-flip. "Shishishi! Extra bacon!" Luffy stretched his fork long, oblivious poke at the air near the tattoo.

"Hands off the back, rubber brain." Sanji spun, waves surging.

Chopper toddled next, hooves clutching a stool. Sanji knelt to his level, sliding mini-pancakes. Chopper's fur puffed, eyes misty from seeing the tatto and getting emotional. "Th-thank you, Sanji! Heavy bleeding? No? Okay!" Sniffled into syrup.

Nami glided in, hair tousled sleepily, claiming her stool. Sanji poured coffee. She sipped, smirked. "Perfect brew. Keep the apron; it's working." Fingertip trailed table edge, eyes lingering on ink blues.

"Only for you, Nami-swan." Sanji winked.

Usopp slunk in dramatically, "Uh, Sanji? You look great, dude!" Voice cracked; he sketched frantically on a napkin.

Franky exploded through the doors."Fuel the machine! You're a tattoo titan, cook!" Thumbs-up boomed; he posed, flexing in echo.

Brook glided as elegantly as Sanji passed jazz-rolls. "Yohohoho! Morning sonata on skin! May I see your—never mind!" Skirt-joke aborted.

Robin settled regal. "Earl Grey, thank you. The artistry endures scrutiny."

Then Zoro. Zoro framed himself in the doorway, haramaki pulled taut across his midsection with three swords weighing heavy at his hip, yet now with no layers of fabric blocking the view, there stood Sanji in all his focused glory, ink parading the crew's bonds across his living canvas as waves rolled endlessly while the cook diced onions felt like a stab in his chest.

The sight hit full, a tapestry of etched loyalties that left no space for him, jealousy surging through Zoro venom-hot, not for the lack of ink itself but for the deliberate proof of bonds carved skin-deep, excluding him with cold intent, crumbling any distance he tried to maintain because now he couldn't unsee Sanji's back turned so casually.

He stepped in heavy, boots thudding against the deck like reluctant admissions, grabbed a plate wordlessly, and sank into a shadowed corner to eat mechanically—bite after deliberate bite, chew grinding slow, swallow forcing down the lump—while his eyes betrayed him, tracing those relentless waves against his will, the question burning unspoken as to why them and why not him, the fork scraping loudly against the plate in a burst of frustration.

Sanji glanced back over his shoulder, brow quirked in that infuriating curl. "Problem, mosshead? Too healthy for your algae diet?"

Zoro's jaw ticked sharply, voice emerging gravel-rougher than intended. "Nah." But his gaze snagged on those shoulders again.

Breakfast peaked frenzy: He'd danced through demands: Luffy's fifth meat tower teetering precariously, Nami's refills steaming precisely, Chopper's syrup rivers licked gleefully. Zoro's corner loomed shadowed—no me, no me—fists balled under the table, breath shallow as blade edges.

"Done!" Sanji declared with triumphant flair, the final crepe stack conquered and plated to perfection, wiping his hands on the apron strings as the job sat well done. The crew stuffed to bursting, before sinking onto his habitual stool, for his own meal, his fingers idly tugging the apron strings loose in that absent ritual of relief.

The fabric slipped from his shoulders and fell to his waist like shed skin, revealing his bare chest. Time seemed to stop as silence gripped the galley. No one gasped or spoke. The air grew heavy. Forks hung frozen in open mouths. Luffy's stretch stopped short of his food. Chopper's ears flattened in shock. Everyone stared at Sanji's heart.

There, scarred deeply over his heart, was a tattoo of three crossed swords: Wado Ichimonji's white hilt in the center, Sandai Kitetsu's red-wrapped blade fierce beside it, and Shusui's black-iron edge at the side.

Zoro's world stopped. From his dark corner, he stared, heart freezing then racing. Jealousy turned to burning want. There were his swords—tattooed over the cook's heart.

Sanji sipped his coffee, steam rising. "Why are you staring? Eat before it gets cold, idiots." His words stopped. He saw their eyes on his bare chest. His hand moved to cover the tattoo, then froze. Oh. Oh no.

The crew imploded, Luffy's jaw sagged eternally, rubbery and unhinged, his eyes ballooning comically wide. "Zoro's swords! Right on Sanji's HEART!"

Chopper spoke softly, hooves clutching his stethoscope. "Zoro-san's swords... protecting Sanji’s heart!"

Usopp's napkin shredded to confetti under his clawing fingers. "Three blades in rivalry ink?! Epic tale of sworn bros—I need to document this for the ages!"

Brook's jawbone literally clattered to the floor in a bony tumble. "Yohoho... three swords over the heart? Bony applause incoming!"

Robin's newspaper slipped from manicured fingers, blooming into petals on the table. " The swordsman claims the center."

And Zoro. Zoro shattered.

For the first time, no scowl hid his face. He looked raw and shocked. He stared at the tattoo. Those three swords—his swords—pulsed over Sanji's heart. He could see the ink move with each beat. It matched his own fast breaths. Mine, he thought. Not some small mark lost in a group tattoo on someone's back. No. These swords stabbed right to the cook's heart. They guarded it. Fierce. Forever. Like a real promise. For weeks, jealousy had eaten at him. It grew like rot inside. He assumed the worst. Only one thought roared in his mind: He did it? That drunk ramble was a vow? For me? After all our fights? After everything?

Chest heaved. "You—" Voice cracked gravel-rend. Steps forward involuntarily, looming over Sanji's stool. Hand half-raised—tattoo magnet pull. "That's... mine."

Sanji met gaze, flush creeping neck—shy flicker, no deflect. "Tch. Figured you'd find out eventually, mosshead." A casual shrug belied the heart's ink thundering.

Sanji's smirk froze halfway. His coffee mug stopped at his lips. Then it hit him. Apron off. Tattoo bare on his chest. Three swords over his heart. The crew stared with open mouths. Shit. Shit. SHIT. His face turned bright red. Ears burned. Eyes went huge. "W-Wait! Eyes off, you pervs! This isn't a show!"

Too late. Everyone had seen it. Forever.

Zoro moved fast. No thinking. His hand grabbed Sanji's wrist as it waved. Firm grip, not too hard. Thumb pressed on the pulse. Sanji stopped moving. Zoro glared at the room like thunder. "Out. Now."

Crew scattered like roaches under years of Zoro's death stare.

Luffy rubber-bounced toward the door, grin feral and wide. "Shishishi! Swords on the heart—love confession time? Don't kiss too hard, or Sanji'll flambé ya!"

"LUFFY, YOU RUBBER IDIOT!" Sanji strangled out a yelp, wrist twisting futile in Zoro's iron grip, face somehow redder.

Nami hip-swayed her exit, winking slyly over her shoulder. "Finally official! Pay up, Usopp—I called heart spot. Use protection... or swords?" Her giggle trailed like wedding bells from hell.

Usopp bolted in prone panic, goggles bugging wild. "Operation Tattoo Quest: SUPER SUCCESS! But Zoro's gonna claim him caveman-style—RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

Chopper stomped out, blushing fur-deep to his hooves. "B-Be gentle, Zoro-san! No broken bones... or hearts!"

Franky with many tears streaming. "Heart blades?! Manliest rivalry upgrade ever! Frame it under glass, bros—SUPER romantic!"

Brook violin-wailed from the door-crack, bony fingers flying. "Yohohoho! Pants check next? Three swords down there too? SKULL JOKE—FLEEE!"

Robin sprouted extra hands to yeet herself out gracefully, a serene smirk lingering. "Enjoy the private viewing, you two. Ara~."

Galley emptied in a whirlwind. Sanji yanked his wrist—Zoro held the issue. "Mosshead! Let—explain—"

Zoro stood close, his breath warm with sake, eyes fixed on Sanji like black ink. "Talk. Now." He clicked the door latch shut.

The door thudded closed. Silence filled the galley.

Zoro eased his grip on Sanji's wrist but kept his thumb pressed there, like he feared the cook might disappear. His gaze dropped to the tattoo over Sanji's heart, then back up. "I thought you left me out on purpose. Your back tattoo shows the whole crew, clear as day. Nothing for me. Made me think you really hated me."

Sanji's face burned red-hot. He yanked his arm, but not hard. "Left you out? Blind or stupid, moss-head? The back is for the crew, yeah. But look here." He jabbed his chest. "Right over my heart."

Zoro stared at the three detailed swords. He let out a rough breath. "I see it now. But I stared at your back for weeks—nothing about me. Why not say something? Or show it sooner?"

"It wasn't for a big reveal," Sanji snapped, flustered. He rubbed his neck. "I got drunk on that island, rambled to a tattoo guy about you all—family, sailing forever. He inked the whole story. Might’ve mentioned I was in love with you or something, so he did this. It was more personal."

Zoro stepped closer, boots almost touching. His hand slid up Sanji's arm—steady, not grabbing. "Personal? So I'm your secret? That's why you hid it? I thought you couldn't stand me. Pulled away because it hurt."

"You think that hurt?" Sanji shoved weakly but leaned in. "Your silence hurt worse—no fights, no bickering. Just grunts like I was a stranger. I second-guessed everything."

Zoro laughed low. "Fine, I brooded. But now I see—it's guarding your heart. I'm deeper in than the others."

Sanji swallowed, voice dropping quieter but edged. "Yeah, well... of course you are. You're the shitty swordsman who keeps me sharp, who I'd follow into hell if Luffy said go. The ink's not for show. It's mine. For knowing you're crew—more than that, even—without needing to flash it around."

Zoro's breath ghosted Sanji's skin as he closed the gap fully. "Stupid way to say it. But... got it." His hand cupped the back of Sanji's neck, firm but careful. No more words. He leaned in slow, lips pressed to the tattoo, right over the crossed swords.

Sanji's inhale hitched sharply—fingers twisting into Zoro's shirt, holding fast. The quiet after the kiss didn't stretch as long as it should have. Zoro lingered too close, his callused hand still loosely circled Sanji's wrist, fingers curled just enough to hold without squeezing. He pulled back reluctantly to look at the three swords again.

Too aware. Sanji's brain scrambled dignity shards. He cleared his throat, rough-sounding, and strangled even to him. "You done staring, marimo? Or do you need a guide too?"

Zoro huffed, a low rumble in his chest shaking the tiny space between them. His thumb moved idly on Sanji's inner wrist, tracing the vein like exploring new land. "Tch. Didn't know you were that sappy."

Sanji bristled fast,, "I'm not! I was drunk, you thick-headed idiot!"

"Mm." Zoro tilted his head. His eyes slid to Sanji's bare chest—the sword tattoo bold under the red flush. "So you just happened to get my swords over your heart? Drunk talk about being in love with me and not your Nami-Swan?"

Sanji choked. Real choke—coffee taste turning sour in his throat. He coughed, sputtered, face burning. "It's not like that—shut your—"

Zoro stepped closer. His voice went deep and gravelly, smooth like velvet. "Then what's it like, cook?"

Sanji's mouth fell open like a fish. His face burned like a furnace. He hated Zoro seeing him fall apart under his stare. "...Shut up."

Zoro smirked, "Cook's embarrassed," he muttered, breath brushing Sanji's lips.

"Shut up—"

Zoro leaned in fast, cutting off Sanji's snarl. The kiss wasn't shy. It built slow but hit hard with sure confidence, consequences be damned. His free hand slid from wrist to waist, fingers spreading wide over his waistline. He tugged Sanji closer—hips bumping together.

Sanji's surprised "mmph" got swallowed quickly. His hands grabbed Zoro's shirt, bunching the wrinkled cotton to steady the dizzy spin. Lips pressed firm, tasting faint blood from training cuts. The world shrank.

One perfect moment found then-

SLAM. "SANJI I'M HUNGRY AGAIN—"

Luffy halted rubber-mid-step, hat lopsided, eyes cartoon-popped on the clinch—Zoro's hand waist-dimpled, Sanji's fists shirt-clutched.

Crew piled doorway sardine-crush, Nami front-row smirk-queen, Usopp hyperventilating shoulder-peek, Chopper hooves clasped over his eyes,Robin looking at them with an all-knowing look, Franky shades-slip grin, Brook skeletal lean.

No one breathed. The galley clock tick deafening.

Then—

Usopp inhaled a banshee scream. "FINALLY—"

Sanji shoved hard. He yanked free from Zoro's arm and stumbled back. He nearly toppled a chair, hands waving wildly. "GET OUT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHY ARE YOU HERE AGAIN?!"

Nami strolled in, filling the door. Arms crossed, smug grin. "Spying. Obviously." She winked at Sanji's flaming face.

Franky threw his hands up with a boom. "SUPER timing! Heart-tattoo drama live!"

Chopper freaked out. "SANJI! Your face is so red! You're gonna explode!"

Brook crept forward with a creak, jaw dropped. "That was romantic—though I have no eyes to see it, YOHOHOHO!"

"DON'T COMMENT!" Sanji screeched, voice cracking high.

Luffy blinked, clueless. His stretchy arm pointed at the table. "Can we eat more?"

Zoro stood like a smug rock. He snorted, amused, and grabbed a plate like Sanji's kiss was no big deal.

Sanji spun on him, eyes blazing with betrayal. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT, YOU GREEN-HAIRED DISASTER!"

"Yeah?" Zoro shrugged. He snagged a bite. "Worth it."

The crew exploded in laughter. Luffy doubled over, cackling. Nami clapped with evil glee. Usopp rolled on the floor, howling. Franky struck a SUPER pose while laughing hard. Chopper hid his eyes behind his hooves. Brook strummed a happy jig. Robin's chuckle grew like soft flowers.

Sanji buried his face in hot hands. He groaned loudly, cheeks burning worse than any stove.

Zoro smirked, permanent and proud. Mine.

Zoro tries to tell him its "Not a big deal." And that they can "get divorced just as easily."

This doesnt cheer Sanji up at all, instead hes just wailing about not wanting to be a divorcee at 19, and "c'mon Moss, cant we work this out?"

"The fuck?? No. - youre straight cook!" Zoro reals back at having to remind the woman obsessed weirdo of that fact.

"So?! You are too!" Yells right back at him, as though this somehow helps his case of them staying together.

"Uh. No. Im not."

"Oh." Sanji pauses momentarily as he absorbs this information, and then doubles down. "Great! Then i just have to learn!"

"Learn...what."

"How to be gay!" Sanji glares at him like that was an obvious conclusion for anyone to draw.

"You cant...learn to be gay Cook."

"Watch me."