La Cara Del Sanji Jejflg

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three hundred sonnets (sanji x reader)

a/n: my first OP x reader fic ever written! :D i’m currently only at the start of the Water 7 arc so this will take place somewhere prior to that :) i hope you enjoy!

big thank you to @chibinasuu for your encouragement in my initial post abt this fic idea! <3 i'm so excited to write more stuff in the future :D

also! i’d really appreciate any requests sent my way :D right now i’ll only write SFW fics/headcanons for Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile & Smoker! but they will all be set early in the series/not during any specific arc since i’m still only at ep 200ish :’D

contents: gn reader, zoro is unintentionally an asshole, major insecurity, injury, miscommunication, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort 

wc: 3k

—

“if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. If he writes her 300 sonnets, he loves sonnets”

i.

it’s no secret that Zoro isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer— or at least that’s what Sanji thinks, especially now as he stands by the sink scrubbing away at the leftover grime on the used dishes; feeling a tightness in his shoulders he just can’t seem to will away.

”hey, cook,” the inebriated swordsman slurred from across the dining table, a shit-eating grin on his reddened face—a familiar sight to everyone on the straw hat crew, especially when times have been smooth sailing. “i heard somethin’ interesting from the last town’s blacksmith the other day and it reminded me of you.” Zoro continued without waiting to be acknowledged.

”if this is something about my eyebrows again, i swear to god i’ll-”

”he said somethin’ like ‘if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. if he writes her three hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets’ and i just thought-” he paused to let out a quick burp, “-you ever consider you might just love cooking more than you love (Y/N)?”

the muffled, happy chatter of his satisfied crewmates from outside the closed kitchen door does nothing to distract Sanji from what even he himself knows is a turbulent mental spiral. he grits his teeth as his fingers grip the sponge even harder, working away at a particularly stubborn stain that strikes him as the final straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Sanji lets out a choked laugh when it dawns on him how ridiculous all this must seem to an outsider: a grown man on the verge of tears as he washes the dishes, overthinking about an off-handed comment said by an extremely drunk friend that was never supposed to mean anything and yet it seems to have shattered everything he thought he knew about himself and his love for the most important person in his life.

ii. 

you decide to excuse yourself from the post-dinner drink-and-chat session with the rest of the crew after you realise someone in particular has been missing for a strangely long time.

you ignore Zoro’s slurred request for you to bring back more booze, knowing he’ll be passing out any minute now from how much he’s drunk tonight, and head to the kitchen. ready to drag your beloved to bed for a nice cuddling session, you can’t help the smile that graces your face as you swing open the door to Sanji’s domain.

”hey love, are you done cleaning up?” you chirp as you approach his broad back, hands ready to plop down on his shoulders for a light squeeze—just the way you know he likes it. the sink comes into clearer view as you get closer and the sight of a few dozen sudsy but unwashed plates and bowls answers the question for you.

”oh, i, um-” the way the blond man jolts slightly in response to your touch isn’t lost on you but what took you more by surprise is how Sanji rubs his face against his sleeve before finally turning to look at you from over his shoulder. he smiles before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead out of habit. “i got a bit distracted but i’ll be done soon, my love.”

”i can help you-”

”no!” you’re sure the way your eyes widen in surprise at his response is mirrored on his face as you both stare blankly at one another for a second. “no, no. i can handle it,” Sanji continues, quick to press a few apologetic kisses on your face, the rapid pounding of his heart calming slightly when he sees how you lean into his affection, seemingly forgetting his odd outburst from just a second ago. 

“why don’t you just wash up and wait for me in bed, hmm? i’ll be with you before you know it.”

”are you sure? it’ll be quicker if we do it together.” 

oh how his chest aches from how sweetly you look at him, offering him a final chance to take you up on the offer. his reddened and sore fingertips scream for him to say yes, beg him to accept your company not only for their sake but also for his heart’s—

i must prove to you how much i love you.

”it’s quite alright, sweet thing, it’s only the dishes.”

iii.

“it’s just a few thousand berry.”

“it’s only a massage.”

“it’s just mopping the floor.”

“it’s only folding the clothes.”

”it’s a small scratch, nothing to worry your little head about.”

”i can take up your night watch today… nonsense, i insist…”

”…nothing but a sprained ankle, i’ll be fine. all that matters is that you’re okay.”

iv.

”Sanji, love, is something wrong?” your voice shatters the silence that had long since engulfed the two of you sitting alone in the kitchen. the others left to explore the newest island you’ve chanced upon and your beloved’s insistence on watching over Merry all but confirm your suspicion that something, indeed, is not right.

”whatever do you mean?” the chef responds with a slight tilt of his head, his tongue darting out to soothe his dry lips when he catches how worried you look.

please don’t

”well, it’s just that… you know this island’s pretty famous for its produce, right?” you ask before you slowly reach out to grab his hand resting on the table. “are you sure you don’t wanna look around? take a break?”

”a break from what?” he chuckles nervously, shooting you a small smile when he feels your thumb rub against his knuckles.

”it’s just that… you’ve been working really hard this past week, y’know?” you reach out to cup his face with your other hand, a gesture Sanji instinctively welcomes with no hesitation as he nuzzles into the warmth of your palm, his tired eyes fluttering closed for a second.

it’s nothing. nothing at all. as long as it means i can feel this warmth for one day more.

”you should go have some fun with the others, it’s my turn to watch Merry. i’ll be fine for a few hours on my own.” Sanji opens his eyes and is greeted by the familiar sight of your warm smile as you rub the pad of your thumb under his eye, across the dark patch of skin—a result of his insistence on doing your night watches with you alongside his full-time duties as the sole chef of the ship.

turning his head slightly to press his lips against your palm, he shoots you another smile. “i’m not really in the mood to explore, i’d much rather stay here with you.”

because what if you realise how much you don’t need me when i’m gone?

Sanji feels the tightness in his chest loosen up a bit when his honeyed response, spoken in his best imitation of a sane boyfriend with only normal thoughts in his head, seems to work in quelling your concern at least for now.

v. 

oh how you wish you’d pressed further back then, dug deeper even if it made him uncomfortable. if you could miraculously go back in time just once in your life, you’d choose to return to that afternoon in the kitchen when you were alone with him. you would’ve seized the opportunity to pry, to force the hard truth out of your beloved chef even if it meant tears shed and bonds broken; because even a scenario like that would be so much more preferable to the one you’re currently in right now.

the entire crew steers clear of the infirmary for the day. even Chopper only shows up to redress Sanji’s wounds every now and then, leaving once he’s done, unable to stay any longer due to how heavy the air feels inside that one tiny room. the other straw hats rely on him for details on how things seem to be going between the crew’s chef and chronicler. otherwise, they elect to give you two some privacy and space, collectively hoping things can return to normal soon.

neither of you say a word for nearly half an hour after Chopper leaves. the stiffness in your neck is starting to bother you but you remain frozen in position, seated by Sanji’s side as he lays resting in bed, his left hand heavily bandaged.

it happened quicker than anyone could have possibly expected. 

the enemy pirate’s sword slashing in your direction as you prepare to parry the way Zoro taught you long ago. you were confident in your ability to win the fight, having been in much tougher situations in the past and still emerging victorious. you might not be the best fighter but everyone knew you could stand your ground fairly well.

Sanji knew that, too. there was no one he believed in more than you, his partner, the love of his life. he knew you would be fine, unscathed, even; and yet his body moved on its own accord anyway. his hands reached forward, contrary to a lifetime of instincts.

i must prove myself to you. 

he knows now, looking at the endless stream of tears silently running down your face and the way your jaw is tensed up—your teeth most certainly chewing on your tongue—that he’d fucked up.

”i’m sorry—” your head turns sharply for your eyes to meet his for the first time in a while when he speaks, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sanji’s bottom lip begins to tremble as he looks away in shame, his own teary eyes glued to his bandaged hand. “i-i won’t be able to cook for you for a while.”

for a minute, you forget how to breathe.

and then, inexplicably, a wave of rage washes over you; a culmination of the past two weeks of concern, confusion and worry over Sanji’s drastic sudden need to do anything and everything for you. his intense desire to display his selflessness all building up to the moment he used his hands to protect you; and even then his only concern is being unable to cook for you?

your own curl into fists on your lap, your nails digging into the meat of your palm, there’s a sudden coppery taste in your mouth as your molars bite down harder onto your tongue. the sheer idea of him willingly giving up his hands of all things to defend you from an opponent you could beat with your eyes closed made you so unbelievably angry at something you couldn’t even quite put your finger on.

sensing a shift in your emotions, Sanji finally tilts his head up to look back at you. his throat threatens to constrict itself and his heart drops when he sees the furious look on your face.

”am i really such a helpless creature to you?”

you regret the words as soon as you say them. the initial fury coursing through your veins dissipating in the blink of an eye when you see how your single sentence instantly breaks something in him.

his mouth opens and closes but no words escape his lips, meanwhile tears flow freely down his faces, one drop after another falling onto the blanket draped over his lap as his uninjured hand grips the fabric for dear life.

no, you could never be helpless you’re perfect you’re the most perfect person in the whole world i don’t deserve to have you and yet you chose me but now i’ve ruined it all—

the endless thoughts racing in his head go abruptly silent when he feels the softness and warmth of your body engulf his. your hand reaches up to hold the back of his head, pulling his face into the crook of your neck as your free arm wraps around his upper back. your knees are planted on the mattress, trapping him in a straddle as you hug him tightly, careful not to agitate his wounds.

for a few seconds, all Sanji does is breathe. in and out. every inhale filled with the scent of your shampoo mixed with the saltiness of your sweat and tears. he feels the hand holding his head run its fingers through his blond hair in a familiar way, it sends pleasant tingles down his spine and for the first time in a while, he’s able to release the tension in his shoulders.

Sanji’s eyes flutter closed as he nuzzles deeper into your neck, pressing a small kiss against your skin before wrapping his own arms around you, returning the much-needed embrace.

”i love you so much, my sweet boy,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean what i said. i know you of all people believe the most in me. i was wrong to accuse you of thinking about me in such a way.” you turn your head to kiss his temple, then his forehead, then the space between his eyes, then the tip of his nose. now face-to-face, your beloved opens his tear-stained eyes to look back into your own.

”are you okay? did something happen?” you ask softly, continuing to caress the back of his head, tangling his golden locks with your fingers. “i’ve been worried about you, the others are too.” he lets out a sniffle but stays silent, so you continue, “i know you’re a selfless person and you love doing things for other people, especially me.” you smile and he returns a small smile back. it, however, falters into an embarrassed grimace when he recalls the conversation that started it all.

how silly it all feels in hindsight, Sanji wonders to himself, as you patiently await his reply, still hugging him closely as your soft breath fans his face. how easily this could all have been resolved if he’d simply talked to you about it once it all started to feel too much. 

the hand behind his head travels toward his cheek to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. you run your thumb gently over his cheekbone as he practically purrs and leans even closer into your loving touch. 

then, he speaks.

vi.

the cooling sea air circulates the space of your shared room as the Going Merry drifts slowly across the calm waters of the night.

Chopper had given Sanji the OK to rest in his usual bed after redressing his wounds in the evening. After leaving the infirmary, the chef made his way to the kitchen to check up on your progress with dinner. Since he was banned from cooking until his hand was fully recovered, you’d volunteered to take up all kitchen duties temporarily. Seeing how excited you were to now be the one providing for him and the others quelled any worries he had instantly.

”Now I get to make all your favourite food and drinks for you instead,” you’d said, crossing your arms and putting on a faux expression of haughtiness, as though you’d finally won some long-drawn out battle.

”I look forward to it, sweet thing.” was all it took to wipe the look off your face as you felt your entire body warm up at his tender voice.

Smiling at the memory from just a few hours ago, Sanji stood outside the kitchen, ready to enter when he heard two voices come from inside. Curious, he stayed put and listened.

”You need to think before you speak!” you yelled, your raised voice accompanied by the sound of a knife hitting the wooden cutting board in a sharp, rhythmic manner. “I know you were drunk but what even was the point of saying all that to him?”

”Listen, I already apologised, you don’t have to keep—”

”I’m just warning you: pull that shit again and I’ll throw all your booze into the ocean.”

”Alright! Damn! I won’t do it again, I swear—”

Sanji’s snapped out of his reverie when he feels you stir awake beside him. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before blearily looking up at his face, your hand pressing against his bare chest to prop yourself up slightly from the mattress.

”Can’t sleep?” you ask, running your palm up and down his skin in a gentle manner.

”Mmm, just thinking about how you managed to get mosshead to say sorry to me at dinner,” he replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer. “Still feels like a weird fever dream.”

“I’m just so good with words, y’know?” you chuckle as you pull your hand away from his chest to replace it with the side of your head. You don’t fail to notice how his heartbeat quickens. “Why else would the infamous Straw Hat Pirates take me on as their chronicler?”

”Of course,” Sanji hums before burying his face in your hair, “we accept nothing but the best after all.”

You laugh softly in response, ready to let the conversation meet its natural end in order for the two of you to drift off to sleep. Right before you shut your eyes, though, your lover speaks up once more.

”I’m so lucky to be loved by you.” his sudden confession knocks the wind from your lungs as your heart leaps within the tight confines of your chest.

”luck has nothing to do with it, sweet boy,” you reply, turning to your head slightly to press your lips to his chest. “i love you because you’re you—the kindest, strongest, most talented man i’ve ever met. you’ve ruined other people for me, not to mention the food they make. nothing compares to you.” 

Sanji silently thanks the night sky for the darkness enveloping your room as he feels his face practically catch fire. Though, he’s certain you can probably tell how flustered he is from the rapid beating of his heart anyway.

”You’ll still love me even if I can’t cook for you anymore?” he mutters, half-joking.

”i’ll still love you even if you refuse to cook for me for the rest if our lives,” you reply, kind of half-joking. “I’d probably be really sad, though, but i’ll still love you.” In response, you feel a chuckle rumble from his chest as his uninjured arm pulls you closer until you’ve basically melded into one.

”you know fully well the day i refuse to cook for you is the day i die.”

you hum in response, already drifting off to sleep with a contented smile on your face. Sanji presses one last kiss of the night to your forehead before dozing off himself. 

cw: fluff. set after timeskip.

Tonight you’ve taken charge of kitchen cleaning duty, and Luffy - initially reluctant to do any type of chore but now eagerly mopping the floor because it means he gets to spend some alone time with you - is singing loudly as he works just paces away. Stationed in front of a mountain of dishes to wash and store away, courtesy of the man just mentioned, you find that despite his questionable singing voice you’re in some way lulled into a sort of quietude by it.

Scrub, dunk, set to dry. Scrub, dunk, set to dry. 

You find yourself humming under your breath.

It’s been several months since you’ve all come together again to continue your collective journey and the time just spent with Luffy, particularly the last six months between the Island of Women and Luffy’s training island, is starting to become a remote memory. You wonder how much of the blossoming of your relationship was spurred from the combination of painful grief, loneliness and forced proximity, and what will remain now that that no longer exists.

You and Luffy are happy, as are all of the Straw Hats, to be a crew again. Raucous dinners abounding every night, nary a moment alone; there is always constant play and the ever pressing hope of adventure.

You wonder every once in a while if that will change things. 

Luffy stops singing abruptly, and somehow the sound of silence is deafening, as though the mirthful notes were sucked out by a vacuum. You turn a little too fast, such that it almost appears accusatory, and look right at him.

“Is everything okay?”

Luffy looks at the suds-filled bucket in front of him for a moment, then looks up at you. A big grin resumes on his face in response to your worried one, which only serves to confuse you further.

“I missed sleeping next to you, what if-”

Your cheeks warm.

“No.”

You turn back to wash the dishes but you can practically feel the pout in your direction, and in a comically long single stride over next to you, he places his chin on your shoulder.

“But-”

“Luffy, Nami and Robin will be right there-”

“Okay, they can cuddle too!”

Your eyes widen and you turn to look at him but he’s grinning, impossible to faze.

“Go cuddle with your mates in the men’s quarters then!” you hiss.

He pouts, wrapping his arms around your waist multiple times over. “But the point is to cuddle with you,” he whines.

“It’s inappropriate,” you insist, even if your face is growing hotter by the second. You turn on the faucet again, but forgetting what you’re doing you end up scrubbing your hands furiously even though you don’t need to in the least before realizing what you’re doing and stopping abruptly, letting out a sigh.

Luffy still hasn’t let go.

“I can kick everyone out of the men’s quarters,” Luffy offers, grinning. “They’ll understand!”

“Like hell they will.” You reply, just imagining the sheer dirty look Zoro would give you and Sanji would give Luffy, and he pouts.

“Well, how about the lifeboat?”

You finally wriggle around in his grasp to face him.

“All this just to sleep in the same bed?” you ask, incredulous. He nods emphatically, then kisses you on the forehead.

“Yeah, duh.”

Mollified despite yourself, you give him a long discerning look then let your arms wrap around his shoulders before pressing a kiss to his nose.

“How about we start with a nap on the couch in a couple minutes, okay?” you suggest, and he smiles, finally unwrapping you to finish his work. His song resumes and the mountain of dishes to wash continues to decrease just like any one of your misgivings about how much Luffy loves you.

And to think you thought things would change.

How many dreams to say "I love you"? (iii)

Summary: Zoro hasn't been able to stop having dreams about you, his best friend and crewmate. When he goes a few days without one, he thinks he's in the clear. Surely, realizing that he's in love with you is enough to make the dreams stop entirely, right? Right?

Part 3 of 4. ~3.6k words. (read part 1 here!) CW: Equal parts smut and plot. Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Sex! Love-making! Mentions of death, danger, and blood. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 3: Scattered polaroids.

Zoro had three whole nights of solace after he realized he was in love with you—three nights of no dreams, three nights of long and restful sleep.

After the third night, he was under the impression that the dreams had ceased entirely. The realization that he loved you was the cure for his sickness, he told himself. Now, he could pine after you from afar during the day and sleep peacefully, minding his business at night.

He did just that. For those three days, during his waking hours, he tried to calculate how to get closer to you. He put together nonsensical equations in his mind over how, why, and for how long he had been in love—he could, and would, keep doing this all day until he returned to his bed, savoring each smile from you.

Evidently, the conversation he overheard between you and Nami was the catalyst for the chain reaction of psychological warfare he had withstood for over a week—the end result was a euphoric crescendo of emotions, his realization that he was capable of romantic love and that his heart had been screaming for attention for months.

But what was there to do about it?

More importantly, did you feel the same?

Zoro needed to find out. He wanted to get to the bottom of everything—the conversation, who you had been talking about, why you were having a hard time being lonely around them, and how you felt about him.

While the swordsman did the mental math of what that discussion may look like between the two of you, he felt sick. He had fought dangerous foes of every kind and been on the verge of death many times before, but nothing ever gave him nerves like this.

If you had feelings for someone, would you tell them? He wondered about you, the sorts of decisions you made, how you would act and feel. If he got to the bottom of this situation and discovered that you had feelings for someone other than him, would he be able to cope with the jealousy?

Jealousy.

The emotion started to seethe when he thought about someone other than himself being with you. It boiled inside when he watched Sanji fawn over you, touch the small of your back, and whisper compliments in your ear. Every bashful smile and flutter of your eyelashes in Sanji’s direction twisted some dial inside of Zoro. Too many twists would prove troublesome. Explosive, even.

He knew that that this emotion, envy, had been there for ages before he recognized how he felt about you. It didn’t feel good, and he knew it was unhealthy. Various images and memories flashed through his mind as he recalled instances in which he felt this same burning envy frequently coupled with a fierce desire to protect you.

Zoro tried to comfort himself with the knowledge of what sort of person you were—if you had a problem with Sanji, or with any other person, you would have said something, no? He was certain that you wouldn’t hesitate to stand your ground.

But that thought was less of a comfort than he initially thought it would be, because you hadn’t ever reprimanded the blonde for his advances (that Zoro knew of), but you did shoo him away sometimes. Your smile felt restrained and reserved whenever it was sent in Sanji’s direction. It looked different than the smiles you gave Zoro.

Well, there was no point in getting himself worked up over the dynamic in question. Nothing would change, probably, unless he did something about it.

It had been a while since you and Zoro last spent time together, one on one. And he thought you had been a bit quieter than usual, recently, so… might as well catch up. Maybe spending some time with you would soothe his heart—it felt like it was aching any time you weren’t around, and when you were around it felt like it was on fire. He didn’t know how to cope other than find ways and excuses to spend time with you.

His solution was… lunch. Practical, at the very least, if not the most effective.

On the morning after his third night of restful sleep, Zoro asked you if you’d like to have lunch with him under one of the trees on the deck of the Sunny. This was nothing too out of the ordinary. He grabbed food, some drinks and some napkins and brought them out to you.

When Zoro handed you your plate, you smiled up at him from where you sat and he felt like he would pass out. He had absolutely no clue how to handle this recently unlocked feeling—the feeling of love—and he was trying to act as normal as possible. He was, all things considered, succeeding. 

He didn’t have much trouble acting ‘normal,’ per say. He was simply hyperaware of how beautiful you were, how fast his heartbeat was, and how blisteringly intense your eye contact was. He had noticed inklings of this before, but he was reminded, strongly. Every moment that your eyes met his, his heart fluttered. He was trying not to blush. It felt very out of character.

“How have you been recently?” Zoro tried to start the conversation casually.

“I’m fine,” you responded with a smile, like usual. “The same as ever. What about you?”

Zoro wondered if that was worth pressing you on, since you seemed a bit sad, or distant, or something along those lines. He decided it was worth it. Ignoring your question to him, he followed up.

“You sure you’re fine? You’ve been a bit quiet recently.”

You tried to brush it off. You had been quieter recently, and for good reason. You thought he didn’t know the reason, but he did. At least, he knew the bare bones of it. Something along the lines of feeling lonely.

“Ah, yeah. I guess I have been a bit down recently.” You responded, trying to hold your smile and pretend like your heart wasn’t crying inside. He studied your face closely, and you could tell.

“Why’s that?”

You had a brief internal battle over whether or not you would be candid with him, but you didn’t have it in you that day and the scenery wasn’t anywhere near private enough. You lied. “No reason, really. I’m not quite sure why.”

“If you ever want to talk about it, let me know.” Zoro smiled sweeter than you had ever seen and then dropped the subject. His smile was uncharacteristically sweet. Heart-stoppingly sweet. Painfully sweet. It was like a dagger.

You told him thanks and the conversation moved on. As a whole, lunch was enjoyable. Afterwards, you both felt significantly more at ease. To spend time together always brought your respective spirits up. It was a great dynamic—no wonder Zoro was in love with you.

Zoro told himself that he should just keep checking on you and go even more out of his way to spend time with you. He’d double down. Maybe it was lunch today, and then tomorrow it could be dinner. And after that, he’d ask you to watch the sunset with him in the crow’s nest. Or would he whisk you away and confess his feelings in his cabin? He was scrambled in the head, confused by that classic paradox of choice, where there are so many options that you’re incapable of choosing one. Was it even the right call to tell you how he felt? Would it screw everything up?

“Oh, Zoro?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks down the hallway after lunch. “Want to have some drinks tomorrow night? It’s been a minute since we caught up. You stood me up last time, remember?”

You were joking, but it was true. Last time Zoro asked you to have some drinks with him after a hard training session he completely forgot and fell asleep. You both laughed about it afterwards, and you used it to poke fun at him sometimes.

He agreed. "Yeah, drinks tomorrow night. I promise."

That was one problem solved.

DREAM 10: Un-solved

That night Zoro dreamed about you. It broke up that momentary peace he had of three nights with no dreams—it seems the internal turmoil of the day was enough to evoke a vivid and striking dream, unlike any others he had before.

Zoro found himself in a dimly lit bedroom lying on a big bed. The sheets and blankets were smooth and plushy. He could hear someone breathing next to him and he knew that you were there.

Turning his head, he saw that you were lying on your side facing away from him, completely nude, hair sitting perfectly on a silk pillowcase. The sheets were pulled down, so he could see your whole silhouette. In the dream, Zoro could feel himself compelled by something, reaching out a hand to pull you closer to him so your bodies were flush.

He smelled your hair, felt how soft your skin was, and ran a rough hand up and down the side of your body, trying to memorize every inch. He ran a palm over your hips and down your thighs, felt your back, shoulders, and waist; he was drinking up every second that his hands wandered over your skin, like your body was an oasis and he was dying of thirst.

You let out an indistinct noise. He couldn’t hear it well enough. It sounded like a sigh. As his hands moved, you stirred, turning your shoulder into his, giving him more access.

The faint sound trickled out of your mouth again, this time audible. Your voice sounded sleepy, sweet and faint. “Zoro.” He could feel his heart trip when his name fell from your lips.

Your hand groped back to grip his thigh and you whispered his name again. “Zoro. More.”

He snuck his hand from your hip to your front, starting to knead and cup your breasts. His fingers elicited another hushed entreaty from your lips. “Zoro. More.”

Suddenly aware of his hard-on pressing on you, his hand lingered on your chest and he began to kiss you. He started with you shoulder blade, marking a trail of kisses up to your neck, taking in deep breaths of your hair and skin. His kisses were soft and loving, coaxing more pleasant sighs from you.

He wanted to taste every inch of you, to draw out those sounds and muffled noises that he was starting to become acquainted with (at least, in his dreams).

Zoro lavished your skin with affection and care for a few moments, and you said his name again. Every time you said his name, it felt like every nerve in his body buzzed.

“Zoro. I need you.”

The dream fogged up and transformed. He was leaning over you from between your legs, missionary style. You were looking up at him, eyes pleading, hair ruffled just right.

Zoro’s erection was positioned right at your entrance, precum beading and pooling around his red, angry tip. The scene was vivid—his mind replicated every facet of what this would look and feel like in real life, down to each atom of detail. It was absurd.

He gawked at you, eyes jumping between your needy face and pouting lips and your glistening core. One of his hands was stroking his shaft leisurely, and the other gripped your waist.

“Please, Zoro.”

As your begging reached his ears, he slowly pressed into you, letting out a hiss of air through his teeth when he bottomed out because it felt so good. You gasped and the sound felt heavenly in his ears.

“Fuuuccckk, Zoro.”

He leaned in to kiss you, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. Your lips were still locked when he started slowly rocking his hips into yours, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly.

You felt amazing, so warm and wet around him, squeezing him perfectly. He sped up, finding the perfect pace. As his hips rolled into yours, you began to moan his name, mewling it into his mouth as he explored yours with his tongue.

Zoro reached a hand and pushed one of your thighs down, allowing for the deepest angle possible. He wanted to hit your g-spot just right; he wanted to make you feel good, wanted to see your eyes roll back in your head and hear his name as many times as possible.

The dreamscape transformed again, just slightly. He was in the same position, but your faces were centimeters away now. You were holding his cheeks in your hands, making eye contact as he thrusted into you, deep and slow.

“Zoro,” you panted. “Feels good, Zoro. You feel so fucking good.”

He could feel your legs wrap around him, could feel you grinding down on his cock, trying to fuck yourself with it deeper.

A moment later, you were holding hands, fingers entwined. You moaned his name and only his name. He could feel himself about to let go. Your eyes were entrancing.

“Zoro,” you keened, arching your back up and squeezing his hands tightly. “Tell me you love me, Zoro.”

His heart stopped again and picked up at a rapid pace; his hips did the same, moving haphazardly, stuttering and shaking. He was seconds away from cumming in you, pleasure building into one massive cliff that he was about to free fall from.

“I—love—you,” he thrusted between each labored breath and grunt. The words tumbled out of his mouth and on the last one he orgasmed. He reeled with ecstasy, convulsing in pleasure as his cum painted the inside of you a hot, milky white.

Zoro collapsed on your chest panting. One of your hands traced circles on his back and the other petted his head, which rested in the crook of your neck. You cooed “good job baby” in his ear and kissed his shoulder.

He woke up, and even though he wasn’t shaking or sweating this time, he felt extremely unwell. It took him a moment to realize that he came all over the inside of his underwear while he was asleep. While his return to consciousness was gentler this time in comparison to his other dreams, he was still disturbed. It was a scarily realistic and wildly intimate dream.

He tried to get his thoughts in order. There was no point in feeling any shame here, he told himself, because you didn’t dream about that on purpose. But really, what the fuck was going on? A wet dream? How long had it been since he had one of these?

The frustration he felt upon waking was agonizing. Three whole days and nights of a clear head. He thought that since he realized he loved you, the dreams had stopped—the realization of his feelings had been the cure to his lovesickness, after all.

Evidently, he was wrong. One intense dream snapped Zoro back into the insanity he had lived in for a week. He felt like he was going to go crazy.

Wasn’t the realization that he loved you enough to make the dreams stop? If that wasn’t enough, then what would be?

Did he have to do something about it?

Fuck.

He really had to do something about it. Perhaps he’d do something about it when he had drinks with you.

But those promised drinks never came.

The next day, the Strawhat crew ran into a hostile pirate group. The skirmish lasted a handful of hours. Lucky for the crew, there were no truly formidable opponents, but it still ended up being a pain in the ass. The crew got separated, and Zoro got lost and left behind—an experience he was well familiar with.

Finally making his way back to where the ship was docked, after hours of wandering around aimlessly on the island and defeating some random mid-tier power user, Zoro returned to the ship. He was met with a startling sight.

The Sunny was ransacked. On first impression, the crew was nowhere to be found. Your absence was starting to agitate him more than usual when he realized the ship was most likely empty. His latent realization of his love was certainly contributing to that.

As the swordsman explored the ship and went room to room, his distress mounted.

There were blood splatters on the walls of some of the hallways—a pattern that looked like someone, gravely injured, was dragging themselves around the ship. In addition, it looked like every inch of the ship had been turned inside out. The kitchen was a mess, pots and pans everywhere, and even the chairs and table were flipped over at odd angles.

In a rising panic, he dragged himself to your room. He was sure it wasn’t you who was injured and struggling, but… what if it was? Might as well check.

As he suspected, your cabin was plundered and empty, too. His heartbeat was through the roof, his vision started to go red in agitation.

Where were you?

In your room, the pirates rifled to their hearts’ content, searching for money, treasure, whatever they could get their greedy hands on.

Your mattress had been ripped off the bed. The drawers on your desk were pulled out and emptied, the sparse contents littered around the floor. Your closet was ravaged, too. Clothes were in piles and tatters on the floor. Your lamp was knocked over, and the bulb was shattered.

Geez, what the fuck were they doing in here? Zoro wondered. He took in the view for a brief second, noting that you weren’t here, and that he needed to move on. If the crew was in a tight spot right now he ought to go help them out instead of dawdling around on the ship in a frenzy searching for you.

Maybe you were with Luffy or the shit cook—maybe you had your snail, maybe he could call you and check if you were okay.

He had only felt this level of panic a couple times in his life so far. A thought cut through his worry—what if I lose her? What if I lose her before I’ve said anything?

He felt like he was sinking. His vision started to tunnel, his hand jumped to rest on one of his swords, getting ready to cut someone down at a moment’s notice. As he turned to leave your room, a lightning bolt of clarity struck him. Scattered across the floor carelessly was a messy tornado of polaroid photos.

Your camera was crushed to bits in a corner, but the photos, which you’d been taking for ages at this point, had been torn from their little box in your closet and thrown everywhere.

Most of the photos, he realized, were of him. His heart panged. He had never seen this many photos of himself in one spot. His memories with the crew slipped through his fingers every day as they happened, but when recorded and hoarded like this he noticed how happy he looked in the photos. Was it because you were taking them?

When did that light start coming into his eyes?

His stomach flipped. You weren’t here. Your room was destroyed. You were in danger.

In a panic, Zoro pocketed a handful of them and darted out of the room. He hurriedly checked the rest of the ship—completely empty, ransacked and pillaged. Luckily, the pirates didn’t find Nami’s stash. But aside from that, almost no corner of the ship was left untouched.

His heart started to feel like it was seizing—if he didn’t find you fast, he was going to snap.

Would the photos you took of him be the only relic of your shared moments of happiness?

He ran onto the deck, out of breath and sweating, and looked at the shore. Time froze.

A wave of relief crashed over Zoro as he took in the sight—the crew was now strewn around the beach. Some were laying on their backs in exhaustion from the battle, others were huddled up, talking, and still, some were injured, getting briefly triaged by Chopper. Nothing looked too serious. His eyes darted around, searching for you.

You were standing next to Luffy, holding your side and wincing. A pool of blood saturated your shirt, radiating outwards from where you pressed your palm to stop the flow of blood.

You were alive. Injured, yes, but alive. He released the tension in his body and a preliminary feeling of relief coursed through him.

It seems like Zoro had forgotten that life on the seas wasn’t just sunshine, lunches on deck, pining, and exploration. Death and danger were key elements of the whole experience.

Not only had he been lacking on his training, but he was lacking on being an attentive and good friend to you, let alone a crew mate that could protect you. In the lapse and haze he had been in for the past couple weeks, he had let his guard down somehow.

Ever hard on himself, Zoro had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment. He needed to sort shit out with you, fast. He didn’t want to have any regrets. He couldn’t lose someone that he loved again.

Taking deep breaths and internally cursing himself out, Zoro made his way down the gangplank and onto the beach. He decided that when the ship was cleaned up, and everyone was bandaged and fed, he would confess.

This love was festering in him. It had festered for far too long before forcing him to acknowledge it. He couldn’t cope anymore. The next chance he got, he would tell you how he felt, no matter what.

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a/n: happy valentine's day, everyone! thanks for your patience waiting for this one :) the next part won't take as long ❤️❤️

subscribing to a fic isn’t enough I need the author to blast a bat signal into the night sky whenever they update

goth siblings from drawpile too nite

i hate problems. everything should work out perfectly all of the time

🛼 its 💥 funky 💥 one piece 🌶

when im in a competition of being cute and round but my opponent is blackleg sanji

"you've already left kudos here. :)" ok and I'll leave some more. You got a problem? Because in my opinion, this work is so good and the author totally deserves it