I belong to a lottt of fandoms, sorry if the things I repost aren't consistent to certain fandoms. I don't really feel like changing up my profile pic or background so it's really basic
Sometimes you just gotta do things yourself, so if ever anyone needed the Lumiose Districts for whatever reason, I divided the map up myself since I was unable to find one already done
request: As a fellow writer I'd love to know your take on sanji dating headcannons!
I know you'll do great on this request if you find the time/are inspired/if youd like to write about this, if not its ok! ^v^ but thank you for hearing me out and having a good day!
Sanji x female!reader (it could MAYBE be read as gender neutral)
Word count: 7k+
Contains: tooth rotting fluff, kissing, angsty and insecure Sanji, his childhood
Author's note: Thank you so much for this request, I had fun writing it! It took me a bit longer since I was finishing my other stories, sorry for the wait! I think I could add countless other headcanons here, but I had to stop myself at one point. This was my first try with headcanons, hope you enjoy!
𩵠Sanji will NEVER stop courting you
One thing that makes the Straw Hat cook the man he is is that he never stops trying to earn your smile, your admiration, or your affection. Becoming his partner doesnât mean the courtship ends. If anything, itâs only just begun.
The flowers he once surprised you with donât disappear simply because you said yes to him. Neither do the kisses pressed to your knuckles and palms, the endless stream of heartfelt compliments, or the countless little gestures that somehow make even the most ordinary day feel just a bit more romantic.
If anything, they become even more frequent, and so does his devotion. Ever since you entrusted him with your heart and accepted his in return, heâs become hopelessly more determined to cherish the love you share. There isnât a force in this world that could ever make him willingly do something that would leave you regretting your choice to love him.
To Sanji, loving you was never the finish line after a long chase. It was the beginning of an eternity spent discovering new ways to make you smile, bring that lovely familiar blush to your cheeks, and remind you, day after day, just how deeply treasured, loved, and utterly irreplaceable you are.
There wonât be many doors youâll get the chance to open yourself, because your ever-chivalrous boyfriend is already holding them for you. Every chair will be pulled out before you can reach it, every shopping bag gently taken from your hands, and should you make the unfortunate decision of wearing shoes that are more beautiful than comfortable, heâll carry you without a second thought. And none of it is done with the expectation of praise. Looking after you simply comes as naturally to him as breathing.
The way Sanji sees it, romance was never meant only for first dates or special occasions. Itâs woven into the quiet rhythm of everyday life, hidden in a hundred little acts of devotion that whisper I love you just as clearly as the words themselves ever could.
𩵠Youâll become his favorite taste tester⌠and the only opinion that truly matters.
No matter how experienced the Straw Hat cook may be, heâll always seek out your opinion before anyone elseâs.
âMy love, what do you think of this steak tartare recipe? Here, have a taste.â
Heâll hold out the fork for you without a second thought, patiently waiting as you take a bite, his eyes never leaving your face.
âAnd what about todayâs lemon tart, sweetheart? Do you think it pairs better with vanilla ice cream or biscotti?â
Every tiny reaction of yours, even the ones you arenât aware youâre making, is carefully observed and quietly committed to memory. Before long, heâll know your favorite dishes, desserts, drinks, the meals you crave when youâre feeling under the weather, the treats you reach for in the summer, and the comfort foods you always seem to want on cold, rainy evenings.
One night, while the two of you are lying in bed talking about anything and everything, you casually mention a dish your mother or grandmother used to make when you were little. The kind that instantly reminds you of home.
By the end of the week, Sanji has already embarked on what can only be described as a personal culinary investigation.
Recipe books mysteriously appear in the kitchen. Different variations are tested whenever he has a spare moment. Ingredients are adjusted little by little until he finally recreates the flavor youâve been describing.
When he places the finished dish in front of you, heâll be watching you with bright eyes and that impossibly warm smile of his, genuinely excited over what, to him, is a simple wish he finally had the chance to grant.
𩵠On that note, breakfast becomes one of your favorite little rituals together.
If youâre someone who enjoys sleeping in, youâll wake to find a cup of coffee and your favorite pastry waiting on a tray beside the bed. After feeding the rest of the crew, the blond will quietly slip back into your room so the two of you can enjoy breakfast together before the day truly begins.
If youâre an early riser instead, heâll make a point of setting aside a little time for just the two of you before the rest of your wonderfully chaotic crew wanders into the kitchen. Sometimes youâll eat there together while you keep him company with a book, occasionally looking up just to watch him work. Other mornings, heâll surprise you with breakfast in bed or at the Aquarium Bar, where youâll either enjoy the peaceful silence between you or chat about your plans for the day and laugh over yesterdayâs adventures.
And although heâll never admit to playing favourites (and it's quite obvious you're his favourite), your favourite meals somehow find their way onto the menu more often than anyone elseâs. Just often enough to make you smile, but never so often that you have the chance to grow tired of them.
𩵠Every now and then, heâd disappear for a few hours on a new island, only to return with the brightest smile and insist that you âkeep the evening free.â
Of course, that was assuming the two of you had managed to spend part of the day apart in the first place. More often than not, youâd already been exploring the island together, wandering through museums, trying local food, visiting theaters or cinemas, listening to street musicians, or attending the occasional concert.
Still, heâd always find a way to surprise you with something special once the sun began to set.
Whether it was a candlelit dinner overlooking the sea, a quiet picnic beneath blooming trees, or simply wandering hand in hand through lantern-lit streets with desserts in your hands, heâd somehow turn even the smallest island into the most romantic place in the world.
And whenever the crew spent longer stretches at sea, he never let that stop him. Heâd somehow manage to organize little dates aboard the Sunny just as often, whether that meant reserving the Aquarium Bar for the two of you or transforming the nicest corner of the deck into your own private dining spot after successfully negotiating, bribing, or otherwise convincing the rest of the crew to make themselves scarce for the evening.
𩵠Birthdays and anniversaries are treated almost like sacred occasions.
Weeks in advance, the Straw Hat cook has already begun planning the perfect menu, secretly collecting little gifts that reminded him of you during previous islands, and pretending not to notice when you try to guess what heâs up to.
And thatâs not even mentioning the bigger, more precious gifts he secretly sets aside for those special occasions. Youâll simply have to come to terms with the fact that, if youâre his queen every other day of the year, then on birthdays and anniversaries, youâre nothing less than his empress. He wonât let a single moment pass without reminding you of that.
He insists every year that he doesnât need anything in return⌠then proceeds to treasure even the tiniest handmade card or handwritten note as though youâd handed him the One Piece itself.
What amazes him even more is discovering that those days mean just as much to you. Watching you quietly plan surprises of your own, seeing how much thought and love you pour into making him happy, leaves him wondering all over again how he got lucky enough to be loved by someone like you.
Years may pass, but somehow, every anniversary ends up more thoughtful, more romantic, and somehow even more memorable than the last. He always manages to outdo himself, convinced that you deserve nothing less.
𩵠Waking up beside you never loses its magic.
Every morning, before he ever slips out of bed to prepare breakfast, the Straw Hat cook spends a few quiet minutes simply admiring you while you sleep.
More than once, heâll silence the alarm and grant the two of you another fifteen precious minutes beneath the covers, unwilling to trade the warmth of your body in his arms for the responsibilities waiting outside your room just yet. His fingers lazily comb through your hair, trace the curve of your cheek, or absentmindedly rub soothing circles against your back as though he canât quite believe he gets to wake up beside you every morning.
And if you happen to wake before he leaves?
Well⌠that might be even better.
Youâll exchange sleepy smiles, instinctively shift a little closer until youâre tangled comfortably in one anotherâs arms, and somehow those âjust five more minutesâ turn into twenty before either of you finally convinces yourselves to start the day.
𩵠As far as cuddling is concerned, Sanji is nothing short of an expert.
If the two of you are lying in bed with nowhere to be, heâll happily spend hours running gentle fingers along your back, scratching your scalp until youâre practically purring yourself. Every now and then, however, heâll quietly ask to switch places. As much as he loves taking care of you, he absolutely melts whenever your fingers comb through his blond hair or gently trace soothing patterns across his back. Heâll never admit just how much he enjoys it, but the contented hum escaping him usually gives him away.
He adores holding you from behind, your back pressed against his chest, his chin resting lightly atop your head. But heâs just as helpless whenever youâre the one wrapping your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder or leaning comfortably against his back. Every affectionate touch sends his heart into a frenzy, and he has to make a genuine effort not to grin so widely that his face literally splits in two.
Rest your head on his chest. Use him as your favorite pillow. Throw your legs across his lap while youâre reading. Fall asleep with your limbs hopelessly tangled together.
Every position somehow feels like his favourite.
During the day, his hands seem to find you almost unconsciously. If youâre reading in the library, donât be surprised if he quietly slips into the seat beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder while pretending to ask what youâre reading. Help him in the kitchen, and heâll steal every excuse to brush against you or briefly pull you into his arms between preparing dishes. Even standing side by side at the railing, watching the sea stretch endlessly before you, somehow ends with his fingers finding yours.
Heâs almost childishly eager to steal little moments alone with you.
The moment a conversation naturally comes to an end or your attention isnât occupied for a second, heâs already appearing beside you with a bright smile, asking if he can borrow you for âjust a minute.â Whether that minute turns into a quiet walk around the deck or simply standing together away from the others hardly matters. Heâs happiest whenever he gets to have you all to himself, even if only for a little while.
As much affection as he gives, though, receiving it never fails to leave him completely undone.
Hook your arm through his, and heâll stand just a little taller, not out of pride alone, but because his heart is suddenly beating so hard against his chest that it almost feels impossible to contain. Lace your fingers with his, kiss his cheek unexpectedly, or absentmindedly smooth a strand of hair away from his face, and youâve effectively rendered the poor man speechless.
Donât be surprised if Chopper eventually wanders over, convinced something must be wrong. Sanjiâs face has turned an alarming shade of red, heâs smiling at absolutely nothing, and judging by the dreamy look in his eyes, the doctor may very well conclude his patient has come down with a fever.
He hasnât.
Heâs simply hopelessly, ridiculously in love with you.
𩵠Speaking of cuddling, it would only be fair to mention the countless kisses the two of you share as well.
If thereâs one thing the Straw Hat cook loves most in the world, itâs kissing you.
Beyond the countless little pecks he steals throughout the day, whether the crew is around or not, kisses quickly become his favorite way of showing affection. Heâll press one to the back of your hand, your palm, your fingertips, your cheek⌠really, heâll happily find any excuse to leave a gentle reminder of his love on your skin. The only thing he truly worries about is making sure you feel comfortable. Everyone elseâs opinions couldnât matter less to him.
Among all of them, though, there are a few that become especially precious.
Every now and then, usually when the two of you are alone, heâll lean down to press a soft kiss against your bare shoulder. He doesnât do it nearly as often when the others are around, partly because he knows exactly what happens every single time. The brush of his lips and the faint tickle of his stubble against your skin always earns him the sweetest little reaction, whether itâs a quiet laugh, a shiver running down your spine, or the way you instinctively tilt your head toward him.
Perhaps thatâs exactly why shoulder kisses become so special.
Theyâre rare.
And they have an unfortunate tendency to lead to one of his greatest weaknesses.
Neck kisses.
The warmth of your skin beneath his lips, the familiar scent of your perfume, the adorable sound of his name slipping past your lips if youâre particularly ticklish⌠theyâre enough to make the cook completely lose himself. Before long, heâs peppering your neck with countless featherlight kisses, slowly working his way upward until he finally reaches your lips.
Those, without question, remain his favorite.
He could happily spend hours simply kissing you, slow and unhurried, losing all sense of time until one of your unsuspecting crewmates inevitably stumbles across the two of you. Well⌠anyone except Luffy. Whether he simply doesnât notice or doesnât particularly care remains a mystery.
Forehead kisses, on the other hand, are among the rarest.
Theyâre the kind he saves for quieter moments.
When youâre sick, heâll gently press his lips to your forehead, partly because he canât resist comforting you, and partly because itâs his subtle way of checking whether your fever has gone down. Other times, when you lend him a hand in the kitchen, heâll quietly murmur a soft, âThank you, love,â before placing a quick kiss against your forehead and returning to whatever he was doing, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
One thing quickly becomes clear, however.
Kissing Sanji while heâs trying to focus on something important is a terrible idea.
Whether heâs preparing an elaborate meal or concentrating on some particularly delicate task, all it takes is one unexpected kiss for his entire train of thought to vanish. Heâll freeze completely, blinking at you as though youâve momentarily robbed him of the ability to function.
As much affection as he showers you with, receiving it still leaves him hopelessly flustered.
Nothing, however, compares to what happens whenever you kiss the feature he spent years wishing he could hide from the world.
His eyebrows.
You think theyâre beautiful.
Completely fascinated by the elegant little spirals framing his face, youâve made a habit of tracing them with your fingertips whenever the two of you are alone, sometimes even pressing gentle kisses along their curves.
Each and every time, the poor man turns impossibly red.
He simply lies there, hardly daring to breathe, too overwhelmed to process the fact that youâre lavishing so much affection on something he never imagined anyone would pay such loving attention to.
If you happen to kiss only one, donât be surprised when he quietly brushes his fringe aside, exposing the other without saying a word.
Not because heâs asking.
Simply because, somewhere deep down, he secretly hopes youâll kiss that one too.
𩵠He notices everything about you.
The Straw Hat cook is utterly captivated by you.
Even after years of dating, or even marriage, heâll still find himself looking at you as though heâs trying to memorize you all over again. To him, youâre simply breathtaking in every possible way. Time could never diminish that. Neither could a new hairstyle, a few wrinkles earned through laughter, or any other change that comes with life. In his eyes, youâre always the same extraordinary woman he fell hopelessly in love with.
Your happiness, your comfort, and your peace of mind always sit at the very top of his list of priorities. Whenever something weighs on your heart, heâll do everything he can to be there for you.
Feeling unsure about an outfit? Heâll make it his personal mission to remind you just how breathtaking you are, showering you with so many sincere compliments that youâll end up believing them yourself.
You were in such a rush that you forgot breakfast⌠or even your morning coffee?
Donât worry.
By the time youâve realized it, your favorite drink and a meal prepared exactly to your liking are already waiting for you.
Sometimes heâll find you quietly gazing out across the endless sea, your thoughts clearly somewhere far beyond the horizon. Rather than immediately asking whatâs wrong, heâll simply wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder, giving you all the space in the world to tell him whatâs on your mind⌠if and when youâre ready.
Nothing escapes his attention.
Not the way the sun has naturally lightened your hair after weeks at sea. Not the tiny trim you got on the last island, or even the fact that youâve started parting your hair differently. The same goes for your favourite makeup products and perfumes. Long before you realize youâre running low, heâs already picked up replacements during your latest stop ashore.
His attentiveness becomes even more obvious during your period.
Truth be told, heâd probably realize itâs approaching before you do. Somewhere, somehow, youâre almost convinced he secretly keeps track of your cycle. During those days, if such a thing were even possible, he becomes even gentler than usual.
The kitchen somehow ends up stocked with your favorite sweets, chocolate, and ice cream. Pain relief is always within reach, along with a hot water bottle warming up for you before you even think to ask. Tucked away in one of the cupboards is a discreet little supply of pads and tampons, just in case you ever need them unexpectedly.
Whenever the cramps become particularly unpleasant, heâll happily spend the afternoon curled up beside you, absentmindedly stroking your hair while gently rubbing slow circles over your lower back or abdomen until you eventually drift off to sleep against him.
And if any member of your wonderfully chaotic crew happens to test your patience during that timeâŚ
Well.
Letâs just say the Straw Hat cook becomes even more protective than usual, making it abundantly clear that bothering you today is a very poor idea indeed.
𩵠Fighting with Sanji is surprisingly difficult.
Arguments between the two of you are few and far between. Truthfully, Iâd even go as far as to say they hardly ever happen.
The Straw Hat cook has an incredibly high tolerance for the people he loves, and especially for you. More often than not, heâd rather let the little things slide than risk turning them into an argument.
Ironically, thatâs also what makes the occasional disagreement possible in the first place.
Instead of voicing every frustration as it comes, he has a habit of quietly pushing them aside until they eventually pile up. Every now and then, all those bottled-up feelings become just a little too much to carry alone.
Even then, though, I canât picture him raising his voice at you or saying something cruel simply because heâs angry.
Confrontation has never been his first instinct.
Protecting the relationship has.
If the two of you happen to argue over something small, heâs far more likely to try and de-escalate the situation than add fuel to the fire.
âAlright, love⌠letâs talk about this.â
âTell me whatâs wrong. Whatâs been bothering you?â
No matter how hurt or frustrated he is, shouting at you simply isnât in his nature. The greatest fear of this soft-hearted cook is hurting the people he loves⌠especially knowing thatâs exactly what he was raised and expected to do from the very beginning. (Weâll come back to that a little later.)
There are, however, a few words capable of breaking his heart almost instantly.
âYou donât care about me.â
âYou never think about how I feel.â
âYou donât listen to me.â
âYou never considered my feelings.â
Those are the kinds of accusations that linger.
Not because he thinks youâre wrong for feeling hurt, but because he spends every single day trying to show you just how deeply he cares. Hearing the opposite would leave him wondering where he failed you.
Rather than risk saying something heâll regret, heâll quietly excuse himself for a few minutes. Heâll step outside, light a cigarette, clear his head, and only return once heâs certain he can give the conversation the patience and attention it deserves.
If he realizes heâs hurt you, even unintentionallyâŚ
No punishment you could ever give him would compare to the guilt heâd place upon himself.
Like a heartbroken puppy, heâd quietly trail after you, hoping youâd stop walking long enough to let him explain himself. Hoping youâd look at him. Hoping youâd let him apologize properly.
If you decided to spend the night somewhere else⌠or asked him to leave your shared roomâŚ
He wouldnât sleep.
Not for a second.
Instead, heâd end up sitting outside the bedroom door, back resting against the wall, waiting.
Waiting for you to come out.
Waiting in case you changed your mind.
Waiting simply because he couldnât bear to be any farther away from you than that.
Heâll spend the entire night worrying about you, replaying the argument over and over in his head, wondering how he could have handled everything differently.
Your tears are something heâll never truly forgive himself for.
Every single one would remain lodged in his heart like a dagger long after youâd forgiven him.
Because thatâs the thing.
You would forgive him eventually.
He, however, never truly would.
One of the things youâll come to admire most about him is the sincerity of his apologies.
Youâll never hear:
âIâm sorry you took it that way.â
âIâm sorry if I offended you.â
âIâm sorry you feel that way.â
Instead, heâll apologize the way people should.
âIâm sorry for what I said.â
âI shouldnât have spoken to you like that.â
âThere was no excuse for my behavior.â
âIâll do better. You deserve better than that.â
His pride has never mattered more than you.
Even if hearing your criticism stings, heâll listen to every word because understanding your feelings matters far more than protecting his ego.
More than anything, he wants the two of you to make up properly.
He canât stand unresolved tension hanging between you.
He needs to know youâve forgiven him.
That everything is alright again.
That you still trust him.
That you still love him.
So kiss this sweet boy a few extra times after every argument.
Hold him close.
Remind him that one disagreement doesnât undo everything the two of you have built together.
Because although youâll probably fall asleep long before he does, heâll still be lying awake beside you, quietly wondering whether you truly forgave him⌠or whether this was the day he finally gave you a reason to stop loving him.
𩵠More often than not, the rare disagreements between the two of you stem from one thing⌠Sanjiâs incurable habit of flirting with every women who walks this planet.
To be fair, even before the two of you started dating, the way he treated you had always been on an entirely different level compared to the shallow flirting he threw at every remotely pretty woman he met, even if she happened to be an enemy. His gestures toward you had always been deeper, more thoughtful, more genuine.
Still, it took time for him to convince you that you were the only one who was truly special to him, and that what he felt for you was nothing like the sweet compliments and flowery words he handed out so freely to every lady he came across.
No matter how wonderful your Sanji is, and no matter how much you trust him, that doesnât mean it never stings to watch him practically pirouette across the deck because a pretty woman smiled in his direction.
Yes, heâd toned it down considerably once the two of you got together. But for a lifelong flirt like him, âconsiderablyâ didnât always feel like enough.
After a few unpleasant experiences with his over-the-top dramatics, and after finally laying everything on the table when you confessed your feelings and became a couple, Sanji genuinely made an effort to improve. His chivalry never bothered you, nor did the fact that he was a gentleman. If anything, you were quietly proud every time you watched your boyfriend treat the women of the crew with kindness and respect. They deserved that kindness, after all. Besides, the difference between how he treated them and how he treated you was impossible to miss.
𩵠On the other hand, heaven forbid another guy gets a little too close to you. If he so much as gives you a compliment, let alone manages to make you laugh, Sanjiâs poor brain immediately starts writing entire scenarios where youâll leave him for someone better.
Heâs never jealous because he wants to control you. Nor because he doubts your loyalty. Heâs jealous because, deep down, heâs convinced you deserve someone better than him.
That belief only grew stronger after everything that happened on Whole Cake Island, no matter how many times you tell him how wonderful he is. And then, despite silently scolding himself for being selfish, he canât help becoming just a little clingier. Heâll stay glued to your side, keep your hand in his at every opportunity, and cover it with even more kisses than usual. Itâs almost as if his subconscious is trying to reassure him that everything is okay, that youâre still together, and that heâd sooner face the most horrific death imaginable than willingly let the two of you drift apart.
Fortunately, proving your sweet cook wrong is easier than youâd think.
You donât need grand declarations of love or extravagant romantic gestures. A slightly tighter squeeze of his hand, resting your head on his shoulder, even the smallest kiss is enough.
His heart grows several sizes every single time you walk over to stand beside him of your own accord and proudly introduce him as your boyfriend. The smallest reminders that the two of you belong to each other are treasures beyond measure to him, and no one could deny how brightly Sanji lights up in those moments. He looks like someone who has just been awarded the highest honor imaginable, nodding to himself with barely contained pride as if to say,
âYeah. Thatâs right. Thatâs me. Her boyfriend. Hers.â
Because thatâs what has always been hardest for him to believe.
That he could actually be someoneâs first choice.
It feels unreal to him. Like it was something that was always meant for other people, something he could only watch from afar and quietly envy.
Thatâs why heâs so used to giving, but never receiving.
He spent his entire life trying to be useful, trying to earn peopleâs affection, trying to become someone they needed, if only a little. Anything to fill the enormous hole left behind by his childhood in Germa, by the guilt he carried over Zeffâs sacrificeâŚ
And none of that compared to how desperately he tried to make up for the pain he caused the crew, especially you, during the events of Whole Cake Island.
He felt unworthy.
Like an annoying piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe that you simply couldnât scrape off.
Because, despite hating himself more than ever back then, what he wanted most in the world was your forgiveness. Your understanding. The chance to never spend another moment apart from you after finally telling you about every wound his heart had been carrying all those years.
He longed for your love and your comfort.
Even if he quietly despised himself for wanting them. That longing was simply stronger.
Every single time you chose him, over and over again, there was always one question that refused to leave his mind.
Why?
Unfortunately, despite everything Iâve just said, asking for reassurance is one of the hardest things Sanji could ever do.
Heâs an expert at comforting other people, probably because he knows better than most what itâs like to have your soul ache for a few gentle words, only for reality to answer with cold rejection instead. He knows exactly how much those words can mean.
Receiving that same comfort himself?
Thatâs an entirely different story.
Heâll hide everything behind a warm smile and a quiet, âIâm fine,â even when itâs painfully obvious that he isnât.
Maybe not to the rest of the crew.
But certainly to you.
So press him, just a little. Never forcefully, but enough when the two of you are alone. Give him the reassurance he canât bring himself to ask for. Tell him you love him. Remind him that heâs safe with you. Let him know youâre willing to listen for as long as he needs, with open arms and all the love in your heart.
Because thatâs what he truly needs.
Especially during those moments when one thought keeps haunting him:
âDoes she really love me⌠or is she just putting up with me?â
Heâs not constantly insecure in the way some people are, endlessly demanding affection until they drain the person beside them.
Never.
Thatâs simply not who he is.
But after especially difficult momentsâŚ
When he makes a serious mistake. When he fails at something important. When memories of Germa come flooding back.
Thatâs when those insecurities rise to the surface.
And thatâs when you have to remind him, with everything youâve got, that he is more than enough. That there isnât a better person in the world for you.
Most importantlyâŚ
That he is loved beyond words.
𩵠So donât be shy about showering him with compliments, either. They mean far more to him than you might think.
Sure, heâd probably short-circuit on the spot and turn into a bright red, speechless mess every time you casually called him âhandsomeâ or âmy gorgeous boyfriend.â Especially that little word, my. It completely fries his brain.
But as flustered as those compliments make him, the ones that truly reach his heart are different.
âI trust you.â
âIâm proud of you.â
âYouâre the one person I know I can always rely on.â
âI feel safest when Iâm with you.â
âI know Iâm always in good hands with you.â
Those are the words that would absolutely undo him.
Because they fill the very emptiness that has haunted him for years, the fear that heâs simply⌠too much.
Too affectionate.
Too emotional.
Too romantic.
Too protective.
Too devoted.
Just⌠too much.
That fear would probably be at its strongest during the early stages of your relationship. Now that he finally has you, heâd constantly hold himself back, terrified that his overwhelming personality might end up pushing you away instead.
But every last one of those worries would melt away the moment you walked up to him and showed him that you wanted exactly those things from him.
That you craved his affection just as much as he craved giving it.
That you wanted to spend time with him.
That you loved every bit of that closeness.
Because, in the end, there is nothing that reassures Sanji more than realizing he never has to make himself smaller in order to be loved.
đŠľ
When he finally tells you about his past, itâll mean more than a thousand âI love yousâ ever could.
We already know that, when it comes to his own pain, Sanji is an incredibly private person. The Straw Hats sailed alongside him for a long time before they ever learned the truth about his family.
At first glance, he seems like an open book. Heâs loud, expressive, dramatic, constantly joking, flirting, arguing, smoking⌠always wearing his heart on his sleeve.
But the things that truly hurt him?
Those are locked away somewhere deep inside, hidden behind several steel doors and concealed beneath that warm, charming smile of his.
With time, heâd grow much more open with you. Youâd learn to read him in ways no one else could.
Even then, though, you could never have imagined just how much suffering your wonderful, curly-browed sweetheart had been carrying all those years.
If, early in your relationship, you asked him one quiet night, wrapped together beneath a blanket and sheltered by the intimacy of darkness, to tell you about his childhoodâŚ
You wouldnât hear very much.
Only the carefully edited version.
âWhat was your childhood like?â you asked, your wide eyes reflecting the moonlight.
There was so much kindness in them.
So much tenderness.
The kind of warmth Sanji never believed someone could look at him with.
He simply didnât have the heart to shatter the beautiful image you had of him.
âNothing too special,â he smiled, lighting a cigarette while making sure to blow the smoke well away from you. âI worked on a restaurant ship when I was a kid. It sank, and old man Zeff took me in after that.â
Everything he said was technically true.
It just left out enormous pieces of the story.
Not because he didnât trust you.
Because he couldnât bear the thought of giving you a reason to look at him differently.
Of course, youâd notice.
But youâd try to respect his choice.
Every now and then, youâd ask another question about how he came to stay with Zeff, gently steering the conversation toward the happier memories instead. His life at the Baratie. The lessons the grumpy old chef had taught him. Sometimes youâd even bring those stories up yourself, simply because you knew they always made him smile and lifted the quiet sadness that settled over him whenever his past came up.
The first story he truly let himself share was Zeffâs sacrifice.
How theyâd spent months stranded together, starving on a barren rock with no hope that anyone would ever find them.
How those months shaped the way he saw food⌠and people.
The two of you cried together as he spoke about his dream of finding the All Blue, not only for himself, but most of all for Zeff.
Heâd never realized just how desperately heâd wanted to tell someone that story.
Or how much lighter heâd feel when all he found on the other side of it was even more of your love and support.
My All Blue, he thought as he looked at you.
You promised him that youâd stay by his side, that youâd help him through every step of the journey until he finally found it.
The place that, somewhere deep in his heart, heâd already decided would one day become your home.
The place where the two of you would build the rest of your lives together.
The deeper wounds, thoughâŚ
Those revealed themselves in quieter ways.
The way heâd go completely still whenever someone started talking about fathers or family.
The way his entire expression changed for the briefest moment before he forced his smile back into place.
The way he almost never mentioned anything about the years before Zeff unless someone pushed him into it.
More than once, you woke him from nightmares where he mumbled through tears, begging you not to leave him.
Youâd spend hours calming him until, eventually, the two of you drifted back to sleep.
The whole time, heâd be apologizing through tears for waking you.
Even though heâd never told you about the isolationâŚ
Or the abuse.
Or how unwanted heâd been made to feel.
You could slowly piece together that whatever had driven him to that first restaurant ship before meeting Zeff must have been something unimaginably cruel.
Then, after one particularly difficult mission the two of you barely survivedâŚ
Or perhaps after hearing you speak about the wounds you carried yourselfâŚ
He decided to do something heâd never truly wanted to do with anyone before.
Open up.
He felt you deserved to hear it from him.
Almost like reopening old scars, he began speaking hesitantly.
There was no dramatic speech.
No grand performance.
Just honesty.
The kind of honesty that strips a soul bare.
âMy family wasnât exactly kind.â
Once heâd started, there was no stopping him.
Surprisingly, it wasnât recounting the events themselves that hurt the most.
It was watching your face as you listened.
Sometimes heartbreak.
Sometimes horror.
Sometimes pure anger on his behalf.
As if you couldnât comprehend how something so unimaginably cruel could have happened to someone as endlessly kind as the blond cook sitting beside you.
âItâs alright⌠it wasnât a big deal. It was a long time ago,â heâd murmur, trying to comfort you, while you were already mentally planning how to defeat an entire family of genetically enhanced nobles.
In those moments, his heart would overflow with a love and gratitude so overwhelming it almost hurt.
The simple fact that you still loved him.
That you understood him.
That after learning everything, you still looked at him and saw the very same Sanji youâd always loved.
Only now⌠You understood him even more.
And cherished him all the more because of it.
Those were the things heâd never tell anyone else.
Only you.
His irreplaceable partner.
Not because they were secrets for the sake of being secrets.
But because heâd spent his entire life ashamed of them.
Ashamed of how lonely heâd been.
Ashamed of how desperately heâd longed for someone to choose him.
Someone to tell him he was enough.
Heâd spent so long expecting rejection that heâd convinced himself it was all he deserved.
Yet when you finally learned the truthâŚ
Instead of pulling awayâŚ
You only held him closer.
And loved him more with every passing day.
𩵠As I mentioned before, Sanji dreams of finding the All Blue with you by his side.
Once he does, heâd build a restaurant there. Heâd drag Zeff and the Baratie boys over whether they agreed to it or not, and together youâd all begin an entirely new adventure.
More than anything, though, heâd want to introduce you to Zeff, if you hadnât already met him.
To his dad.
Heâd want the old man to see just how happy he finally is.
Every day, youâd be there beside him, helping out around the restaurant while pursuing the things you love, building a life together one ordinary, wonderful day at a time.
And maybe, before longâŚ
Your little family would grow.
If things went exactly the way Sanji secretly imagined them, your children would be tiny, adorable copies of you.
Especially little girls.
On the other hand, youâd be hoping for the exact opposite.
That theyâd inherit his soft smile, those impossibly curly eyebrows, and the warmth that always shines in his eyes.
The first time Zeff showed you an old photograph, or maybe even a video, of Sanji as a little boy⌠Your heart completely melted.
He was, without question, the sweetest child youâd ever seen.
âI wasnât that cuteâŚâ heâd mumble, cheeks burning, while Zeff snorted loudly in the background.
From that moment on, you couldnât help imagining a little boy who looked just like him running around the restaurant.
Only this child would grow up differently.
Unlike Sanji, they would never have to wonder whether they were wanted.
They would never have to earn love.
They would simply receive it, every single day.
The kind of love he should have had from the very beginning.
Together, youâd give your children everything he never got to have.
A home filled with warmth.
A family that chose them every single day.
Parents who loved them without conditions, without expectations, without ever making them question whether they were enough.
And in giving them that childhoodâŚ
The two of you would quietly heal a small part of his own.
Thatâs the future Sanji dreams about most.
Just coming home after a long day in the kitchen, seeing you waiting for him with Zeff grumbling somewhere in the background, hearing the laughter of your children echo through the restaurant, and realizing that, somehowâŚ
He found his All Blue long before he ever found it on a map.
The whole town came and our mamas cried / I'll be 87 you'll be 89 / I'm only me when I'm with you / knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said / marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone / you are the best thing that's ever been mine / so glad you were around when they said speak now / the jury's out but my choice is you / that's when you walked in wearing in a football helmet and said ok let's talk / and I said stay, stay, stay / I watched it begin again / we could get married, have ten kids and teach 'em how to dream / it's a new soundtrack, I could dance to this beat forevermore / the lights are so bright, but they never blind me / and that's how it works, that's how you get the girl / when you're young you just run / but you come back to what you need / we were born to be suburban legends / knew he was a kill(a) first time that I saw him / here's to my real friends / hold on to the memories they will hold on to you / at every table I'll save you a seat / I once believed love would be black and white / but it's golden / in the garden, would you trust me / I had a feeling so peculiar this pain wouldn't be forevermore / so make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it / you've got no reason to be afraid / please, I've been on my knees / change the prophecy / don't want money, just someone who wants my company / where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me / you know what you wanted and boy you got her / no one's ever had me not like you / all that time, I sat alone in my tower, you were just honing your powers now I can see it all / late one night you dug me out of my grave and / saved my heart from the fate of Ophelia / been number one but I've never had two / do you think it's forever? / it's alright, you were dancing through the lightning strikes / shelter here with me, my love / failure brings you freedom, and I can bring you love / 'cause I thought that I'd never find that beautiful, beautiful life that / shimmers that innocent light back / like when we were young / I just want you / have a couple kids have the whole block looking like you / buy the paint in the color of your eyes / and graffiti my whole damn life, honey
And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars
And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words
Ok so idk if people have made this connection, but | literally just thought about it (spoilers for ep 8!) (I posted this in one of the tadc communities)
Ok so, I want to preface this by saying it takes a while for some things to click with me but I haven't seen anyone mentioning this.
Assuming the mind files theory (that everyone in the circus is a brain scan/copy of their mind) because one of the things we see on Kinger's computer is a file called "CA_NeuralScans (obsolete)" this could be the people who abstracted, BUT also we see shortly after that there's a corrupted file next to Caine's file (possibly the blue circle (Abel)) and this got me thinking; what if those files in the "CA_NeuralScans (obsolete)" folder are corrupted as well? It could explain the glitchy appearance of those who abstracted and if someone touches an abstracted person (Ragatha touching Kaufmo in episode 1) then they (their mind file) might also become slightly corrupted as well. Caine putting everyone who abstracted into the cellar might be him putting them into this folder.
I also looked into ways to un-corrupt a file to see if there could be a way the circus members could "fix" those who abstracted, and one of the solutions stuck out to me: you could restore a backup. If one of the circus members (probably Kinger) found a backup (if there even is one), then they could not only possibly bring back those who abstracted, but also Caine. The question is whether there are backups of the files or the computer (the circus) itself? And if it's the second option, would that get rid of everyone except the original developers (because I assume that they first went in when the circus was created)? I'm not sure đ¤ˇââď¸, but then again you shouldn't do that because when you assume it makes an *beep* out of u and Ming
Thanks for reading my rambling, I just had to write this down. I genuinely just joined the community to share this idea
Summary: Law isnât good with words. But after finding himself thinking about the quiet ways his father used to show love to his mother, Law decides to try something different.
You sat at the table with Penguin and Shachi while Bepo lay sprawled comfortably across your lap, quietly enjoying the way your fingers scratched through his soft fur. Your fingers moved lazily through the white fluff, and the large polar bear instinctively shuffled closer, fully embracing his role as an oversized stuffed animal.
From across the room, Law watched you.
There was something soft in his gaze, something thoughtful. The corners of his lips threatened to curl into a smile.
The truth was, he had always had a weakness for cute things. And for quite some time now, he had considered you to be the cutest of them all.
You in your warm, soft pajamas. You peeking into his office late at night carrying a fresh cup of coffee and something to eat. Sometimes it was hot chocolate instead, accompanied by yet another attempt to convince your doctor, your captain, and your boyfriend to try the sugary disaster despite his constant insistence that he âwasnât really into sweets.â
You, always willing to listen whenever he rambled about a new medical discovery, your eyes bright with interest and your smile completely genuine. Even when he talked about things the crew would relentlessly tease him for, like his comic books or his coin collection, you never looked bored. Not once.
He found your clumsiness endlessly endearing too. Somehow existing within the same person capable of deadly combat and flawless strategy. It reminded him painfully of someone from his pastâsomeone just as warm and sincere.
Though you were considerably less accident-prone, he had to admit.
He still hadnât found the strength to tell you about that person.
Truthfully, there were many things about his past he hadnât managed to share yet. You had probably pieced fragments together already through conversations, things overheard from the crew, and your own intuition. Your relationship was still young enough that there were chapters of each otherâs lives left unread, but old enough that neither of you needed every detail to understand the other.
He loved finding you curled up in the library with a book, or half-asleep in bedâsometimes your own, sometimes hisâwaiting for him to finally stop working and come lie down too.
He loved the spark that lit your eyes whenever the two of you visited museums in whatever city the crew temporarily docked at. The conversations about paintings, writers, history, myths. The way your excitement spilled into every topic you touched.
And he loved your affection for sweet things.
Especially, as you constantly reminded him, for him.
âThe sweetest thing of all.â
Every single time, it earned an exasperated eye roll, ears tinged pink beneath the brim of his hat, and a desperate attempt to change the subject or stare intensely at the nearest wall.
Sweet. Sweet. Sweet.
Law wasnât always fond of revisiting the past. It followed him regardless of where he went, a shadow he had never quite managed to outrun.
But that evening, his thoughts drifted to his family.
To his father.
He remembered the way his father would surprise his mother with bouquets of the freshest flowers he could find. There was always a small note tucked among the stems, usually containing only a few words, yet somehow capable of bringing an even brighter smile and a blush to her cheeks.
Sometimes his father would return home early from work, a near impossibility for a doctor as respected as he had been, simply because he wanted more time with his wife and children.
Law remembered him helping around the house without being asked. Cooking lunch. Washing windows. Dusting shelves. Even the smallest, most ordinary little acts had been woven together with care and affection.
The captain found himself yearning for that too.
Love didnât always have to be spoken.
Perhaps that was why the memories lingered.
Because words had never been his strongest point.
He loved you.
God, he loved you.
There was never any doubt about that.
Yet sometimes it felt as though an unbearable invisible weight sat heavily across his shoulders, preventing him from taking that final step and showing you every ounce of tenderness he carried for you.
And there was so much tenderness. More than he knew how to express.
He only hoped you knew that already.
So he started small.
Just as you were about to leave your room and march down the corridor to his office and force your chronically sleep-deprived boyfriend into getting at least a tolerable amount of rest, the door slid open.
Law stood there holding two mugs of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and two books tucked beneath one arm.
âI figured you could use about three hundred milliliters of concentrated sugar shock right now.â
His voice was as flat as ever, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him. One corner of his mouth twitched upward as he stepped inside.
You blinked.
Before you could say anything, he crossed the room, placed one of your favorite books in your lap, and set the mugs on the nightstands on either side of the bed.
A moment later he slipped beneath the blankets beside you. Without a word, he nudged you gently against his shoulder and opened his own book.
You stared at him. Then at the hot chocolate. Then at him again.
ââŚAre you feeling alright?â
Law snorted.
âUnfortunately.â
You laughed, and the sound alone made the strange fluttering sensation in his chest feel worthwhile.
A few mornings later, you woke to something even stranger.
Instead of waking up alone in bed while Law disappeared into another round of research before sunrise, you woke up wrapped tightly in your loverâs arms, his hands resting securely around your waist.
For a long moment, you simply stared.
It wasnât unusual to fall asleep together.
It was unusual to wake up together.
Usually, by the time dawn painted pale streaks across the submarineâs metal walls, he had already disappeared into his office to bury himself beneath stacks of notes and medical journals.
As though he sensed you stirring awake, he pulled you even closer, a sleepy sound escaping him.
Then he buried his face deeper into your hair.
âKeep sleeping.â
His voice was muffled against your head.
âWeâre comfortable like this.â
You smiled despite yourself.
âCaptain, are you cuddling me?â
âNo.â
âYou literally have me trapped.â
âItâs a strategic embrace.â
A laugh escaped you.
The vibration of it made him pull you even closer. He inhaled slowly, catching the familiar scent of coconut and mango from your shampoo.
Warm. Comforting. Home.
For once, neither of you moved.
On another morning, you walked into the kitchen expecting to begin preparing breakfast for the crew since it happened to be your turn.
Instead, you found Law already there.
The counters were occupied by ingredients, dirty bowls, and evidence of what could only be described as organized chaos. He was in the middle of arranging food onto plates.
When he noticed you standing in the doorway, he immediately became very interested in the knife he was holding.
âI couldnât sleep. Thought Iâd make things easier for you.â
His eyes flicked toward yours, nervous despite himself as he waited for your reaction.
Your entire face lit up and you immediately walked up to shower him with kisses..
Before he could retreat, you crossed the kitchen and threw your arms around his neck.
âLaw!â
You kissed one cheek.
Then the other.
Then his jaw.
Then his forehead.
The poor man nearly short-circuited.
He blushing so hard it was almost concerning, grumbling under his breath and pretending to complain the entire time.
Heat rushed straight to his ears.
âH-Hey.â
Another kiss.
âCut it out.â
Another kiss.
âIâm serious.â
Another.
You finally pulled away enough to see his face.
Bright red.
Absolutely mortified.
And cute. Very cute.
Law muttered something incoherent under his breath and turned back toward the food as if the frying pan had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the world.
You only laughed harder.
The gifts continued.
Whenever the Polar Tang docked somewhere for supplies and circumstances forced you to stay behind to guard the submarine, your Surgeon of Death always returned with something for you.
A rare edition of a book.
A dress heâd spotted in a shop window.
A local dessert from a bakery tucked away in some side street.
A trinket tied to the history of the island.
Something thoughtful, chosen specifically for you.
He never made a big deal out of it. Usually heâd leave the gift beside you with a muttered explanation before pretending it wasnât important.
Once, he returned with a shirt he clearly intended for you to sleep inâa design modeled after the tattoos stretched across his chest.
He didnât even stay long enough to watch you open it.
The second he dropped the bag onto the couch beside youâwhere you sat listening to yet another one of Penguinâs ridiculously long jokesâhe turned on his heel and marched straight back to his office.
He did not wait to watch you open it.
His stomach was performing acrobatics the entire way there. His pulse wouldnât settle and something beneath his ribs felt unbearably strange.
Fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded at his door.
Then it opened.
You stepped inside wearing only your robe and the shirt.
Law glanced up and promptly forgot how breathing worked.
The oversized black fabric disappeared beneath your bathrobe, but the familiar tattoo design stretched across your chest exactly as heâd imagined.
Heat rushed violently up Lawâs neck, spreading over his ears and across his cheeks in seconds.
âH-Hey⌠what are you doing?â he asked, heart pounding so hard he was convinced it might burst straight through his ribs and sink the entire submarine.
You smiled at him from beneath your lashes.
âI wanted to show you how much I like my gift.â
You walked over slowly, placing both hands on his shoulders before covering his face in kissesâhis jaw, cheek, forehead, eyes, eyebrows, nose, and finally his lips.
By that time whatever remained of his composure had surrendered completely.
He deepened the kiss immediately.
Strong arms wrapped around your waist before sliding lower, lifting you effortlessly into his lap and pulling you flush against him.
When the kiss finally broke, his forehead rested against yours.
âI like it too,â he whispered against your mouth, the corners of his lips curved slightly.
âEspecially on you.â
The following week, the Polar Tang surfaced near a small coastal town.
For once, there were no emergencies and the crew scattered to enjoy the rare sunlight however they pleased. Some swam. Others wandered into town. Some napped on deck, read books, or simply enjoyed the fresh air before the submarine inevitably returned to the dark depths below. Some headed into town.
You and Bepo claimed a comfortable spot on deck and spent the morning enjoying the warmth.
Law had gone into town on urgent businessârestocking ingredients for his medicinesâbut insisted he wouldnât be long and that there was no need for you to come with him.
Bepo had strangely supported this argument with suspicious enthusiasm.
Still, you didnât think much of it. Days like this were rare.Â
At some point, Bepo wandered off to grab cold lemonade while you stayed stretched out in your chair, eyes closed, listening to the waves and feeling the ocean breeze brush softly against your legs.
Everything felt peaceful.
Then suddenly, a tall shadow blocked the warmth of the sun.
You peeked over your sunglasses and found your beautiful, impossibly tall boyfriend standing over you, holding an enormous bouquet of peonies in soft pastel shadesâsoft pink, white, creamy, pale lilac. Petals layered like clouds.
Your breath caught.
âTheyâre beautiful,â you whispered, eyes shining as you buried your nose into the sweet floral scent. âHow did you know these were my favorite?â
Law watched you quietly.
His expression softened.
Heâd known because months ago youâd stopped in front of a flower stall and spent nearly ten minutes admiring peonies.
You hadnât realized heâd noticed, but he did of course.
Law noticed everything about you.
âLucky guess,â he replied quietly, watching you instead of the flowers.
You narrowed your eyes.
âLiar.â
He shrugged.
Your fingers brushed against a folded note tucked between the stems.
The moment you noticed it, Law swallowed hard.
Suddenly he felt far more nervous than he had facing emperors, marines, or sea monsters.
Slowly, you unfolded it and three words stared back at you.
I love you.
You looked up at him immediately, startled and flushed pink.
Then Law exhaled.
âI mean it,â he said before you could speak.
âEven if saying it out loud is hard for me sometimes. I love you. Breathing feels easier when youâre around. I sleep better beside you. You make every day better.â
He continued before courage could abandon him.
âEverything is better.â
The vulnerability in his expression nearly broke your heart. And he swallowed thickly.
âSorry if Iâm not always good at showing it.â
Tears gathered in your eyes before you could stop them and you laughed softly and shook your head.
âI love you too, idiot,â you whispered, hugging the bouquet tighter. âVery, very much.â A tear escaped despite your smile.
âAnd trust meâyou show it plenty. I never want you to stop.â
Something warm settled inside his chest. The anxious knot heâd been carrying all morning finally unraveled.
âI donât plan to.â
He carefully took the bouquet from your arms and placed it on the lounge chair beside you, You could put them in a vase later.
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