You arrive in Hawkins as an adult with a reason to stay unnoticed. Henry Creel notices you anyway. He’s already hunting—but you become a complication he didn’t plan for. Henry x Fem!reader
You told yourself that as your car rolled past the familiar “Welcome” sign, paint chipped, letters faded. You told yourself it was temporary. A few weeks, maybe a month. Just long enough to help your sister get back on her feet. Long enough to make sure the house wasn’t going to swallow her whole after everything that happened.
Long enough to leave again.
The air felt wrong the moment you stepped out of the car. Not dramatic—just… heavy. Like static pressing against your skin. You shook it off, popped the trunk, and grabbed your bag.
“You okay?” your sister asked from the porch, her voice tired but trying.
“Yeah,” you lied easily. “Just the drive.”
That night, you lay awake on the pull-out couch, staring at the ceiling fan as it clicked unevenly. Hawkins was quiet in a way that felt unnatural, like the town was holding its breath. Every so often, the lights flickered, barely noticeable, but enough to make your pulse jump.
That was the first night you felt it.
The sense that someone was listening.
You met Henry Creel two days later.
It wasn’t dramatic. No thunder, no slow-motion recognition. Just a quiet, almost mundane moment that stuck to your ribs like it belonged there.
You were in the Hawkins public library, flipping through old newspapers. Your sister said it helped—knowing what had happened, putting names to rumors. You weren’t convinced, but it gave you something to do during the day.
“Those won’t tell you the truth.”
The voice was calm. Low. Too close.
You turned, startled, and nearly collided with a man standing just behind you. He was tall, dark hair neatly parted, eyes sharp in a way that made you feel like he’d already seen more of you than you’d offered.
“Sorry,” you said automatically. “Didn’t hear you.”
He smiled faintly. “Most people don’t.”
Something about that sent a shiver down your spine.
“You’re new,” he added.
“Visiting,” you corrected. “My sister lives here.”
“Unfortunate place to settle,” he said, glancing around the library as if it were complicit in something. “Hawkins has a way of… lingering.”
You studied him. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I am.”
There was a pause. Not awkward—charged. You realized you were still holding the newspaper open, fingers tight around the edges.
“You looking for something specific?” he asked.
“Patterns,” you said before thinking. “I guess.”
His eyes sharpened. “Careful. Patterns look back.”
You laughed under your breath. “That’s ominous.”
“It’s honest.”
He extended his hand. “Henry.”
You hesitated just a beat before taking it. His skin was warm. Too warm.
“Y/N,” you said.
The moment lingered longer than necessary. His thumb brushed your knuckle before he let go, like it had been intentional. Like everything about him was intentional.
When he turned to leave, you watched him go without meaning to.
And when he paused at the door and looked back—just once—you felt it again.
That static hum under your skin.
You ran into Henry everywhere after that.
At the grocery store, standing in the aisle like he’d been waiting for you to notice him. On Main Street, walking just slow enough that you caught up. Outside the school fence, gaze distant, unreadable.
You told yourself it was coincidence.
But coincidence didn’t explain the way he watched you. Like you were a puzzle he hadn’t decided whether to solve or destroy.
“You’re avoiding something,” he said one evening, when you found yourselves sharing a bench outside the diner.
You raised an eyebrow. “Do I know you well enough for that kind of observation?”
“I know people,” he replied. “You carry responsibility like a weight. Older sibling.”
Your stomach flipped. “That obvious?”
“It’s in the way you look at the town,” he said. “Like you’re bracing for impact.”
You leaned back, arms crossed. “What about you?”
His gaze lingered. “I’m looking for… potential.”
The word landed strangely.
A waitress passed by, breaking the moment. When you looked back at him, his expression had softened just enough to seem human.
“You shouldn’t stay long,” he said quietly.
“Why?”
“People get hurt here.”
You scoffed lightly. “Bit late for that.”
He watched you closely, like your reaction mattered more than the answer itself.
What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that Henry had already marked his targets.
The kids. The ones who slipped through the cracks of Hawkins, carrying grief like an open wound. They were loud in the way broken things always were.
Usually, he didn’t hesitate.
Usually, there was no distraction strong enough to pull him away once he’d chosen.
But then there was you.
Your mind wasn’t loud. It wasn’t fractured. It was steady, layered, full of memories that weren’t rotting—just heavy. You thought of your sister first. Always. You thought of leaving. Of staying. Of wanting something you couldn’t justify.
You were infuriatingly grounded.
And you kept getting in his way.
He’d feel it when you were near—his focus slipping, his connection thinning. The noise dimmed when you spoke. When you laughed. When your eyes met his and didn’t flinch.
It wasn’t supposed to happen.
It did anyway.
The night the power went out across half of Hawkins, you found Henry standing outside your sister’s house.
You nearly dropped your keys.
“Jesus—Henry,” you said, heart racing. “You scared me.”
He looked… off. Jaw tight. Eyes darker than usual.
“I needed to see you,” he said.
“At my sister’s place?” you asked. “That’s not creepy at all.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I apologize.”
You studied him. “Are you okay?”
He hesitated.
“No.”
That honesty caught you off guard.
“You want to come in?” you offered, surprising yourself.
Inside, the house was quiet. Your sister was asleep upstairs. You led him to the kitchen, lit a candle when the overhead light refused to cooperate.
The flickering glow changed him—shadows pulling at his features, making him look older. Tired. Dangerous.
“You should stay away from me,” he said suddenly.
You crossed your arms. “That’s twice now you’ve said something like that.”
“And yet you keep inviting me closer.”
You swallowed. “You showed up.”
“Because you make it difficult to focus,” he said.
The air thickened. “On what?”
His gaze dropped to your mouth.
“On my purpose.”
Your pulse hammered. “And what’s that?”
He stepped closer. Not touching. Not yet. The heat between you was unmistakable.
“To end suffering.”
You let out a quiet breath. “That sounds… extreme.”
“Pain is inevitable,” he said. “But release isn’t.”
You tilted your head. “You talk like someone who’s tried to carry the world alone.”
Something flickered—anger, maybe. Or recognition.
“Touching me is a mistake,” he warned softly.
Your voice came out steadier than you felt. “Then stop standing so close.”
He didn’t.
You reached out before your fear could catch up, fingers brushing his wrist. Electricity shot up your arm. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes closing briefly like he was restraining himself.
“Y/N,” he said, voice strained. “You don’t understand what you’re interrupting.”
“Then explain it,” you whispered.
His eyes opened. Intense. Hungry. Conflicted.
Instead of answering, he leaned in—just enough that your breath mingled, lips almost brushing.
It wasn’t a kiss.
But it was close enough to count.
When he pulled back, his hands were clenched at his sides.
“This can’t continue,” he said.
You nodded, though every part of you disagreed. “Okay.”
He left without another word.
The candle blew out on its own seconds later.
The next day, rumors spread. Another incident. Another kid hospitalized. Another near-miss that felt too close to home.
Henry avoided you.
And it hurt more than you expected.
Until he didn’t.
He found you behind the old high school gym, the air buzzing faintly. His composure was gone—hair messy, breath uneven.
“I tried,” he said. “I really did.”
Your chest tightened. “Tried what?”
“To ignore you.”
He closed the distance in two strides, hands bracketing your hips, not rough—but firm. Grounding.
“This is a distraction,” he said against your ear. “A dangerous one.”
You swallowed. “Then why are you here?”
“Because when I’m with you,” he admitted, voice low, “the noise stops.”
That did something to you.
“Henry,” you whispered.
His lips brushed your jaw. Barely. Enough to light you up without crossing the line.
It was intoxicating. Terrifying.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.
He froze.
“I have to go,” he said sharply, pulling away like he’d been burned.
“Wait—”
He looked back, eyes glowing with something unreadable. “You should leave Hawkins.”
“And you?” you asked.
His smile was sad. “I can’t.”
He vanished into the trees, leaving the air crackling in his wake.
You stood there long after he was gone, heart pounding, knowing one terrible truth:
You weren’t just distracting a monster.
You were becoming part of the reason he hadn’t finished what he started.
And in Hawkins, unfinished things were the most dangerous of all.
12 Days of Ficmas 2025 Day 1: Roasting Marshmallows
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader
CW/TW: None
Word Count: 265
Summary: You and Ace sneak into the kitchen for some late night snacks.
It was late at night on the Moby Dick, but you and Ace were still awake. The two of you snuck into kitchen for some midnight snacks. There would probably be hell to pay in the morning when Thatch found out, but that was a tomorrow problem. Once you both were satisfied with your hauls you returned to the crow's nest where you had been hanging out to divvy up the snacks.
"Here," he says as he tosses you a bag.
"Marshmallows?" you guess when you feel how squishy the bag is.
"Yeah, I know you like them," he says.
"I do, but I really only like them when they're toasted," you say.
"Say no more," he says while holding out his hand. A small fire formed in his palm.
You look around for something to use as a stick to roast the marshmallows. The only thing you are able to find as a substitute is a fork.
"Thatch will probably throw you overboard for messing up the cutlery," he teases.
"What Thatch doesn't know won't hurt him," you say. "And you better not tell him."
"If I did that he'd probably just end up blaming me," he says.
"True," you say. Once your marshmallow is toasted to your satisfaction you go to eat it, but Ace takes it off the fork before you can and pops in into his mouth. "Hey!"
He can't help but laugh at the annoyed look on your face.
"Relax, there's a whole bag," he says.
"That's not the point," you grumble as you put another marshmallow on the fork.
calling sanji "bro" or "dude" by mistake and he gets such a ridiculously offended look on his face like you've said something so bizarre he cant even wrap his head around it. he tilts his head and pouts until you call him something sweeter and then he'll pounce on you, wrap his arms around your neck and pepper one thousand kisses onto your face.
thinking about how shanks would be like when you’re pregnant with his child…
he’d be a mix of quiet strength and mischievous warmth - the same way he commands his crew but softens completely around you. everyday, he watches you carefully, like you’re the most precious treasure he’s ever laid eyes on.
not just you, but the life blooming inside of you, too.
he fusses over your every need, but never like you’re fragile - more like a captain tending to his crew:
when you stand too fast, he’s instantly there, steadying you with his hand and a teasing grin, brow raised, “careful, you’ve got precious cargo now.” and even as he jokes, his eyes never leave your face, always alert, analysing it for any sign of discomfort or pain.
the crew? they’re on high alert, benn carries your plate before you can even reach for it, lucky roux tries to sneak in healthy meals (which shanks secretly finds hilarious), and hongo stands watch like a loyal guardian, waiting to leap into action with his medical tools if you sneeze wrong.
your nausea though, hits hard sometimes, and shanks tries everything - singing off key sea shanties to your belly, offering lemons and pickles (sometimes both at once, just to see your reaction), and holding your hair back with the gentle patience of a man ready to be a father.
he’s hopelessly earnest, but it makes your heart ache with endless love every single time.
at night, when the world is quiet and the ship sways gently on the waves, he pulls you close, resting his hand over your bump whispering stories about luffy - the stubborn, fiery kid, his voice softens, warm and full of pride.
you smile against his chest, feeling a peace you never knew you needed.
this is the family he’s always dreamed of, and he’s ready to protect it with everything he has.
a/n: you could never convince me that he's a deadbeat
Not sure if your taking request but I have this angsty and sweet request
Tw: not eating
Reader came from a town where bandits took over their food source and cause people to die from starvation one thing her family would do if they were lucky to get food they would make them eat it no matter if it's a food they hate. Her family passed so she does this thing where she sometimes feels unworthy of eating...and (this is personal preference but I genuinely don't like Mac n cheese love if you include that) one day Sanji makes Mac n cheese and reader feels nervous cause she hates it but she makes herself eat it cause she doesn't have the heart to tell sanji she doesn't like the food! (I also like the fact sanji would always find her hiding to make sure she eats and he sits so she knows she eats.
Something You'll Enjoy
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Sanji x Fem!Reader
Rating: SFW
Word Count: 2713 words
Warnings: References to starvation, and death by starvation. Reader has trauma and an unhealthy relationship to food.
A/n: Hi!!! Thank you for the request and yes, they are open! the nail polish fell off of my nails while writing this fic-
Summary~ A painful past causes you to have an unhealthy relationship with food, and Sanji refuses to see you suffer so.
Crossposted on AO3!
You didn't have enough.
There wasn't enough.
Anxiety bubbles deep within in you as you and your family stare at the meager harvest of potatoes. As per the bandit's rule, every family with a farm is required to fork over 90% of harvests. You hear your father sigh softly, kneeling in front of you with a reassuring smile to comfort you, and your mother, holding onto your younger siblings tightly. It took forever to get in the door after.
"Eat." your mother orders, handing you a plate with a small cut piece of a very soft tuna sandwich. You swallow it down, grimacing slightly at the taste. You look at your father as he was arranging the tribute, specifically at the three potatoes allowed for your family's share.
The routine went as so, split the fruits of your labor, get cleaned up as much as you could, and wait for the bandits to pick up the tribute. Everyone in a household had to be there and counted for, as a precaution and assurance.
The loud crash of the dented bucket hits the wooden floor of your home, potatoes flying in every direction.
Your father and mother stood calmly, shielding you and your siblings from view of the bandits, poised at the entryway like a pack of hungry wolves.
"Do you take us for idiots?" came the chillingly relaxed tone from Cullen, leader of the bandits, "Don't think we haven't noticed how much smaller the tributes have gotten either, you lot are sneaking around behind our backs aren't ya?"
"Look if you want, but we have nothing to hide." Said your father, "Overworking the soil kills crops, and gives us less fruit."
"I don't want to hear your excuses." Cullen's gaze locks on you and your siblings, and you freeze up, "I know what your priorities are."
Next thing you knew, fire surrounding you, everything you knew, you heard screaming, loud screaming, things falling, Cullen running to your parents with his sword raised-
You let out a strangled gasp, jolting in bed. Eyes blown out wide, you take deep breaths as your mind swirls in distress.
Arms tighten around your waist as you become more aware of your surroundings. The air wasn't damp, you didn't smell dirt. You could hear the ticking of a clock nearby, the sound of the waves, the bed you were laying in on your current home, the Thousand Sunny, as it slowly rocked like a cradle on the calm ocean. You could hear your heartbeat steadily slow down as you regain awareness of your surroundings.
A soft mumble interrupts your thoughts in the quiet, warm breath against your nape, his nose, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.
Sanji…
A soft smile forms on your lips, arms slowly dragging from their outstretched position back to you, clammy hands searching for your lover's resting against your lower torso. His fingers splayed like he needed to hold all of you, you find his hands and just hold them in your own, squeezing gently as you close your eyes.
"Mon ange…?" He murmurs sleepily, "s'mthin' wrong…?"
"No, don't worry about it, love, I'm fine." You reply quietly.
He hums, shifting as he sits up, "Your hands are sweaty..."
You turn to look up at him and see the quiet concern in his gaze, "And you were shuddering…"
He looked tired, but more than ready to attend your every need. Even with those lidded eyes and tousled hair, does he look majestic.
"I-I think just seeing you like this has solved any problem I've ever had." You joke lightly.
Sanji moves slow, laying back down to face you with a raspy chuckle, "Really? I didn't know I had such a power, then that means what you have must be able to cure the worst of diseases." You smile, rolling your eyes in response.
His sleepy smile turns into a frown as he tucks away the sweat slick strands stuck to your face, "Talk to me, ma cherie, what happened?"
You lean into his warm palm as when he cups your cheek, "It was… another nightmare…"
"Another one?" he asks, voice as soft as a feather, like he was worried about scaring you away.
"Yeah…"
"Was it the same as last time?"
"No… it was another memory … with the same people."
Sanji hums as he pulls you close, his lips pressing against your hairline, "I'm here… and so are you. You're far away from all of that."
"I know…" You say quietly, wrapping your arms around his waist, squeezing lightly, "But the memories still exist… not that I would ever want to forget…"
"I know… I wish I could just take away your pain…" He murmurs, rubbing your back soothingly.
Slowly but surely, you're relaxed enough to where your eyes feel heavy once more, "Thank you… Sanji."
"You don't have to thank me, I'll always be here…" He mumbles, kissing the top of your head.
The next morning, you wake up to a note from Sanji on your bedside, written beautifully in his perfect, loopy cursive.
'Take it slow today, Love, don't think about rushing. - Sanji ♡ '
You crack a small smile at the cute note, before a quiet growl echoes in the empty space. "What time is it…" you look around to find the clock which read a half past seven, so not too early, nor too late.
You decide to heed your lover's written words and take your time getting ready for the day, sliding on a comfortable shirt and pants, checking out your appearance in the mirror for a quick second before leaving the room.
The table was already noisy when you arrived, Luffy bouncing around in his seat impatiently as the delicious smell of omelettes and toasting bread waft throughout the galley. You couldn't help but close your eyes to take it all in.
"Good morning, [Name]-san." Brook greets you politely as you sit down.
"Good morning Brook."
"Did you rest well?"
"I did! Well, there was a bit of a hiccup, but other than that I'm doing fine. And you?"
"Ah, well, I would say I have, though sleeping as I am now is a little strange. I wouldn't know if it's really sleeping."
"Really how so?" You tilt your head curiously.
"Like resting my eyes… see, it's a bit difficult… because I don't have any! Yo ho ho!"
You shake your head with a smile, another skeleton joke, but they never got old.
"Oh, and I have a question [Name]-san…" Brook's tone turns serious.
"Yes?"
"Say, what color are your panties toda-" he wasn't able to finish his sentence before Sanji had hit him over the head with a spatula.
"No harassing beautiful ladies at the table, you bag of bones!" He gets in Brook's face, "Especially if that beautiful lady is [Name]-chwan!"
"Yo ho ho ho! I think my heart just stopped! But I don't have a heart!" Brook laughs, while Sanji hisses at him.
You chuckle and tap your lover's shoulder, which seems to snap him out of it like a rubber band.
"My love, you're here! So sorry about that." Sanji twirls 180 degrees to you like his personality, setting down a plate of breakfast in front of you, "I hope this helps brighten your morning."
"You're so silly… but it's cute." you smile, kissing his cheek and making him turn bright red.
"[Name]-chwan~!" He covers his nose with a handkerchief while he tries to regain composure, "I-I'm glad you think so, you know I cook and plate your dishes with the most love and care, I-"
"Oi! Cook hurry with breakfast, you've already had all night to fawn over her." Zoro deadpans from across the table.
"You wanna fight?" Sanji glares.
"Sanji hurryyy, I'm hungry too." Luffy calls, stretching over the table.
Sanji sighs, whispering a quiet apology and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before getting back to serving everyone's breakfast.
You smile brightly, something was always happening on this ship, but you wouldn't change it for the world. Thanks to your growling stomach, your plate was calling for your attention now as you prepare to chow down-
'Don't worry about me dear, just eat your eggs.' said your mother with a tired smile, splitting the rest of the rations between your other siblings. Your father leaving the house to work on the field again after only having half a glass of water.
You weren't feeling so hungry anymore as you stared at your plate. Even the heart on your omelette failed to crack a smile from you. Guilt from all ends eating you up as you force down a small bite, hoping the excitement from everyone else that morning was enough to mask the sudden downturn in your mood.
Eating bit by bit, Luffy seems to notice while devouring whole plates of food. Looking to you for confirmation, you smile and hand him your plate, to which he gladly devours, And your stomach rumbles once more.
You wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, you had been busy working your ass off in the greenhouse Franky helped build for you, assisting Usopp in creating a steady supply of ammo he could use in future fights.
'These seeds I collected from the archipelago are great, but they won't last forever! Even with my bottomless bag.' Or so he said.
It was necessary to get this done quickly, or so you had convinced yourself. A moment too long of silence and you were thinking of them again- You lean back and sigh. It was… that time of year again.
You get back to work.
Since the plant pots here are set up now you need to mix the soil and fertilizer-
'You know, you don't need to add that much depending on the size of the pot. It's not like a field, you're trying to grow roses right?'
Stop, don't think about them, you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head.
It was that time of year again. So it was important to get your head in the game.
Make them proud.
Live for them.
Were you… worthy enough to do that much? Your grip tightens around a clay pot. Why you, when-
The door to the greenhouse opens.
"[Name]! Lunch is ready! You can finish that up after." Usopp calls out to you from the doorway.
"Ah- thank you Usopp, but I swear I'm almost done here- give me- uhm- five minutes, is that ok?" You sweat nervously.
Usopp raises a brow but doesn't question, perhaps he thought he had ruined your focus when he came in without knocking, "Alright, but just know Sanji's cooking up a good meal right now, best served hot!" He gives you a thumbs up and smile before shutting the door.
You turn back to the pot, your cloudy mind interrupted with the growl from your stomach. A growl you had been consistently hearing throughout the day. A reminder.
Memories flash in your mind of your family, your younger siblings, your parents, your friends from the village, many who have passed due to starvation. You could smell the delicious food from within the greenhouse. Like those days the bandits held lavish parties, taunting everyone outside their fortress with the mouthwatering scent. You held your head to try and stop the memories. You were here now! All of that is behind you!
They…
They were behind you.
A loud knock at the door interrupts your thoughts, and you shoot up in your seat.
"[Name]?"
Sanji's voice.
Oh no. How long has it been since Usopp came in to let you know of lunch? You feel yourself panic, irrational panic. You curl up into yourself, not knowing what else to do.
"[Name]?" Sanji calls again, gentler this time, because of course he knows. He always did, you didn't deserve someone like him.
"[Name.]" Sanji breathes, finally opening the door, your back facing him.
"You weren't at lunch, we finished up a few minutes ago." He approaches you, his steps purposefully light, "My love, are you alright?" He kneels next to you, covered dish in hand.
"I… sorry Sanji, you work so hard to cook us every meal, I got really caught up in this project again.."
Sanji's gaze drifts from your side profile to the empty pot in your hands. The empty pots that surround you.
"I swear! I'm not avoiding my meals on purpose again! I'm just not hungry-"
A loud growl echoes in the quiet dome shaped room.
You look away in shame, gaze unfocused on the things in front of you.
"I'm sorry…" You whisper, to who? You weren't even sure yourself at this point.
"Look at me." Sanji says quietly, and you do, albeit nervously.
His gaze was steady, blue-gray eyes staring into yours. No jokes, no flattery. A frown on his lips, but never judging, never disappointed, never upset, not at you, never.
"I won't ask you to tell me what is wrong, but as a cook on this ship, it is my job to make sure everyone is fed." His tone is serious, calm, steady, you cling to it.
"You seldom ate at breakfast this morning, and you didn't show up earlier for lunch. As a cook I can't just let something like that slip past. This isn't the first time, but like the promise I made to you, I'll always be here."
Sanji pulls out another stool nearby to sit next to you.
"Sanji…"
"Here, it was hard to save anything for you with our vacuum of a captain, but I managed to salvage this much for you." Sanji uncovers the plate, steam rising from…
Well mac-and-cheese.
You hold yourself back from grimacing.
"Oh- uh- thank you... " You say while your brain works overtime to come up with ways to delay actually eating the mac and cheese.
Grabbing a fork, you go ahead and take a generous bite. Well you can respect Sanji's talents, but unfortunately they're not enough to stop your dislike for the dish.
"Sanji… remember last night.. the dream I had."
Sanji perks up, "Yes?"
"This time of year… well, this time of year isn't very cheerful for me. They say time heals all wounds, but even though it's been years, my body still reacts you know."
He listens to you as you spill out more to him, not everything, but the things that mattered, those you've lost, you loved, the things that happened. You could see from the corner of your eye how his expression changed. From sympathetic, to anger and frustration, and then to wonder.
"To be honest… I don't think I deserve all of this. But at the same time I know it's everything they would've wanted for me. It's so difficult to be in my own mind. And I know it's a little silly, because despite knowing that.. I'm still doing things like this. Punishing myself." A silence settles over the both of you.
"Do you like food?" he asks quietly.
"I love it." you say with a sad chuckle, "The dishes Mama would make… Papa's roast and fruit preserves… I miss it. Even happy memories are so painful."
"If you want, if you're fine with it, we can try to experiment sometime." Sanji says pulling out his notepad from his pocket, "Figure out your old family recipes. You're still here, they live on through you."
Your lips slowly stretch into a small smile, "You just know what to say, huh loverboy?"
"There's my girl." he smiles back.
You stare for a moment, before chuckling, and then laughing, Sanji laughing with you.
"By the way love, I can't help but notice you haven't touched your food much…"
Ah. right.
"I-uh.. I don't really like mac and cheese much." You admit nervously.
"Then you don't have to eat it." Sanji says simply.
"But you worked so hard-"
"Our captain's bottomless stomach should suffice, don't worry." He waves it off.
"But-"
Sanji cuts you off, grabbing your hand and squeezing it firmly in his own, "I want you to enjoy what you eat. I want to see you smile- because you're alive with us. Let's cook something else. Something you'll enjoy alright?"
Your smile widens, "Alright."
A/n: Another request wooo!!! Admittedly.. not my proudest work. I'm not very good at writing angst as I've learned writing this lol! However, I did learn I am ood at writing comfort so~ *rubbing my hands evily*
Anywho~ Thank you for the request! I had a lot of fun writing this, mainly because it was a chance to finally use my botanist!reader concept!! I had a couple unfinished works lying around with her, but this gave me the opportunity to expand on it!
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