seasalt&smoke

private & selective rp blog for ''Blackleg' Sanji from One Piece written by Stray | multi-verse - multi-ship | headcanon based & canon divergent.

[seasaltandsmoke]

seasaltandsmoke

PRIVATE & SELECTIVE RP BLOG FOR ''BLACKLEG' SANJI FROM ONE PIECE WRITTEN BY STRAY | MULTI-VERSE - MULTI-SHIP | HEADCANON BASED & CANON DIVERGENT

rules | headcanon | muse | verses

[seasaltandsmoke]

"You know what?" He barks back. "Fine!" And then without thinking twice about it he shoves Zoro off of himself and stands. Previous concern is replaced entirely by annoyance, and if there isn't as much force behind the action as there usually would be, it has nothing to do with how little Zoro seems to be able to resist that push, or the fact that he looks like a stern breeze could knock him over. Sanji has never seen his this weak before, not since Mihawk cut him down at the Baratie that is — and isn't that a memory he'd like to repress. But of course Zoro's signature scowl is still in place, of course Zoro's damned stubborness would prevail no matter how weak or injured he is.

Sanji grits his teeth, at least his problem from before has begun to resolve itself the moment Zoro started being contrary. "Get your ass up before I kick it back to the ship for namecalling a lovely lady."

He curses under his breath as he turns away from Zoro, hands shaky and as he fiddles with bis lighter, desperate for a smoke now that his morning has begun in the worst way possible. He hates when his friends get injured, hates when he's left helpless in light of it, and yes he wouldn't admit it to Zoro under threat of death, but he does consider him a friend. So, of course he still feels guilty when Zoro practically stumbles to his feet, of course he is reminded violently of why the swordsman is even in this state in the first place.

Sanji hisses when he burns himself while trying to light his cigarette, serves him right for worrying about someone who clearly couldn't care less about his concerns. It's always been this way with Zoro, how idiotic of him to assume it would ever be different. It's not like he can ever admit to any of this, not like he would ever bring up the fact that Zoro and his stubbornness, his conviction is one of the reasons Sanji is even part of the Strawhats in the first place!

But it's not like that would change anything. Zoro doesn't care anyway. So, Sanji bites back his worries and instead goes back to what is familiar.

"And while we're at it, give me my jacket back!"

[petrokhelidon]

This, this at least is more familiar ground. Fucked up as it may be, this is the version of Sanji he can actually hope to handle right now, as raw and vulnerable as he feels, as splayed open in his body's weakness. It's a familiar push and pull, the flare of his temper giving him a surge of strength as he pushes to stand up, the glare of his grey eye as fierce as ever despite the unsteadiness of his feet and the spinning of his surroundings. No one can get under his skin like the cook, stubborn, temperamental, foul-mouthed and passionate as he is, but then he's quite sure no one gets under the cook's skin quite like he does either. This is what they are. Always pushing, always pulling, in each other's hair and at each other's throat, making each other stronger, better.

None of that concern, none of that pity. None of Sanji's kindness, nor his care. Zoro can't have it. He can't, because he's learned from experience false hope is always worse than the status quo and he can't have his heart distracting his head from what really matters and that is his ability to protect the crew. His goal to become stronger.

Of course, right in this moment he's not thinking about how much he relies on Sanji to help him, with and through the rivalry they've created, the friendship that has formed that he truly wouldn't change for the world if he won't admit it on pain of death. Right now he's simply tired, dizzy, feeling like he's getting worse and listening to the damn Cook call the bitch who did this to him lovely just pisses him off.

" Try me, ero-cook! " He snarls, breathless, knowing full well the Cook could very well kick his ass back to the ship the state he's in. " She's the reason we're in this mess, I'll call her whatever the fuck I want. " The room swims, a sharp ache in the pit of his stomach warning him to be cautious, to not exert even more energy and waste it on what he knows, logically, is just pointless grandstanding. But Zoro's never known to simply back down, his usual collected temper fraying at the edges with seeds of frustration and panic over the way he feels so out of control of his own self. It's the only reason why he even snaps out what he says next, feeling wild and uncontrolled and wanting to hurt. " But I bet you'd like to thank her for that, huh? Bet you're getting a kick seeing me like this, huh? "

He yanks off the jacket, almost stumbling in the process, sweat sliding off his temple and his breaths sounding hunted. He throws it towards the cook with the last strength he can find. " Get the fuck out. "

[seasaltandsmoke]

Sanji works his jaw. Blue eyes ablaze with a fury only this green haired idiot's ever been able to instil in him. Teeth grind against each other and he is on the verge of yelling, on the verge of knocking some sense into this stubborn idiot just to prove a point, knowing that right now it wouldn't take much to do so.

It's always this.

Zoro's always calling him out for being who he is. Sanji cannot stand for someone disrespecting a lady, cannot stand for Zoro badmouthing anyone of the fairer sex, but that isn't what cuts him deep. He is used to hearing it after all, knows that his chivalry has gotten him into trouble more than once in the past, too.

But knowing that this is what Zoro thinks— that he believes Sanji would enjoy seeing him this weak, that he'd somehow find satisfaction in Zoro's pain and suffering... It shuts him up and makes his gaze turn sharp and icy.

Every syllable out of Zoro's mouth just adds fuel to the white hot rage his anger has become. He starts walking and he can see the way Zoro's shoulders tense, can see him readying for a fight, but in the end Sanji simply yanks the jacket from Zoro's too weak hold in passing. Without another word he kicks open the door with one swift motion. Wood splinters, the smell of charcoal fills the air as his kick enkindles the wood, but he isn't able to care about drawing attention, or about anyone finding them now. His head too full with rage and chest too tight with something else entirely. Something cold and hurt.

What about all the times I made sure you ate and drank enough to maintain that ridiculous regiment of yours?

He wants to ask.

What about the times I've helped Chopper patch you up because maneuvering someone as bulky as you while unconscious is a job for two people at the very least?

What about all the times I didn't wake you for your watch and took it on myself because I know you insist on running on a consecutive of four hours of sleep at most on any given day and that's just ridiculous.

Sanji says none of these things. If this is what Zoro believes why should he try and prove him wrong?

He stops in the doorway.

"Get lost for all I care. I won't come and get you this time."

His voice is flat and his tone low as he says this. He doesn't turn to look back. Simply rounds a corner he knows would lead him back to the harbour. He doesn't mean it, not really and that almost pisses him off more than anything Zoro said to him.

As soon as he has taken the first few steps down the alleyway his anger simmers down from a raging flame to a quieter but no less painful ember that settles heavily in his gutt. Each step away from their hideout makes him feel heavy with guilt. No matter how irritated he is with the swordsman, he can't just leave him, not in the state he is in. He is still his crew. He is still his friend.

He stops in his tracks and spits out the bud of the cigarette he's been gnawing rather than smoking. He runs a rough hand through his hair and over his face. What the hell is he doing?

His head snaps up when he hears quickened footsteps from somewhere nearby. Another search party it seems. So they haven't given up on finding them just yet. He hears footsteps approach and then quickly fade, but from all he knows they may be headed towards where he was just hiding with Zoro. Shit.

He shouldn't have left him. In his current condition there is no way he could fight them off if they found him.

He is turning and sprinting back before he can even finish that thought. Sanji snarls at his own stupidity. There is no one that gets under his skin as quickly or efficiently as this green haired brute, but he still doesn't want him to die.

[seasaltandsmoke]

Sanji raised his hand to put his cogarette back to his mouth, taking another drag from it. His other hand burried into his pocket, thumb following the line of one edge of his lighter shoved within. He leaned more firmly against the railing behind him, a smile curling his lips at the evident surprise that met him when the other man processed what he just told him.

"Please, stop it with the flattery" he said dryly at the high praise, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You'll make me blush." But it was said in a way that suggested Sanji well knew his worth. He was the best cook on this ship. Hell, the best goddamn cook in the East Blue even, and he took pride in that, and in being part of the Baratie. Still, it was nice to be recognized for his abilities.

He huffed out another bit of smoke into the evening air, the wind picking up around them. And despite their easy conversation Sanji could not help but weigh all the man was telling him carefully. Marines and pirates, he learned over the course of his life, were equally dangerous, piss off the wrong guy and it didn't matter who his blade was sworn to they still cut the same.

His men. He said. So he stumbled upon the captain of those pirates. Maybe that was were the sense that he knew him came from. There was likely a wanted poster with his name on it somewhere. Sanji may have passed one of them when the Baratie was at shore at some point in the past.

Something occured to him then, unrelated to whether or not the man had a bounty on his head.

"What about you?" He asked, when the man spoke about his crew eating and drinking their fill, but when he spoke of the quality of their food it seemed more like a musing than first hand experience. A curled brow raised at him. He had a sneaking suspicion. "Have you had anything other than booze tonight?"

[seaoftales]

"Gotta praise where praise is due," the red haired pirate pointed out and took another swing from the bottle, grimacing only a little bit as the burn once more went through his throat. One would assume he'd already gotten used to it considering the amount of alcohol he could drink, though there was a different between cheap booze and high class liquor, which this one was. Shanks liked to savour the taste, even compare it to the saké from the West Blue, which he still held in highest regard as the best one.

Speaking of, he glanced at the bottle in hand, then at the young sous chef next to him. Was he truly that easy to read? Maybe he just had experience with patrons who claimed the food was good but never truly tasted any. Still, Shanks stuck to his words. Had the food not been as good as it clearly was, his men would have made way more or a ruckus instead of eating in silence like they did.

"Well... it's good booze," he tried to reason. Obviously living off of alcohol wasn't the way to go, and he'd grow hungry sooner or later.

It was the almost scolding look of the blond that had him cave in the end. "For the record, I had full intention of eating. Thing is, there were some faces that didn't really like the look of me inside. Judging by how they sat like they had sticks up their asses, I'd say they were Marines, so I removed myself with this in hand," he raised the bottle in question, "to avoid causing any problems. I don't really mind. My men are sated, and I as their captain put their needs first."

[seasaltandsmoke]

Good booze, huh?

Sanji's eyes narrowed. "Not what I asked." And while the other man didn't seem like the kind to be easily intimidated he still folded under Sanji's accusing gaze, telling him all he needed to know. The explanation that followed was as good as any other to him — in the way that it didn't excuse him going hungry, nothing did.

"You don't strike me as a man who is afraid of a few Marines..." He mused quietly, and the expression he was given in turn only told him he was right. "So, you kept out of trouble for our sake rather than your own or that of your men?" His head tilted while he once again tried to place the man's face. One would think he'd remember if he ever saw him before, the scars over his eyes alone surely were prominent enough to pick him out in a crowd and this paired with the red hair did make a faint bell ring in the back of his mind. However, once again, it didn't really matter, so he didn't think to pursue the thought for long. In the end, it was all the same to Sanji.

"...I appreciate your effort of not making any of the other customers any more trigger happy than they already are, but next time, don't let that keep you from eating."

He took another drag from his cigarette and tapped the ashes into the sea. "The Baratie is neutral ground. The old man and I agree on that even when some of the staff don't." He shrugged. "Pirates, Marines, rich, poor... I don't care. If you're hungry, I'll feed you." No one would go hungry if he could do anything about it. He breathed out in a long low stream of smoke before he stubbed the bud out in an old ashtray placed near the railing.

Then, he gestured for the other man to follow him. "Come on then." He drawled, shoving his hands into his pockets to ward them against the chilly night air. "Bring the booze, or what's left. I'll make you something that goes well with it."

[seasaltandsmoke]

Sanji shifts uncomfortably as Zoro leans back, pulling his hands away from his skin. He clears his throat in embarrassment when he realizes his hands had snuck beneath Zoro's clothes to seek out his warmth in his sleep and he is grateful that the swordsman does not actively pull attention to it, even though he feels his ears burning hotly when he thinks he sees Zoro's gaze stray down to the tent in his pants.

It's natural. He is half prepared to screech at him. A warm solid body pressed so close against a hot-blooded guy like him, what is a man to do?!

But instead, his attention diverts when Zoro thanks him and then his eyes widen as he sees Zoro sway even while seated, his hair no longer the only green thing about him. Sanji catches his wrist, his skin concerningly cold to the touch. He holds him steady, relieved to find that Zoro's gaze seems to clear a little as he focuses on him, face beginning to look slightly less pale. But it also serves to make Sanji realize that he still feels tired, too. Even his muscles ache in a way they haven't in a long time. Maybe the fight took more out of him than he realized as well.

He pushes the thought aside, it's clear that Zoro is well worse off than he is, no matter the headache that is forming behind his eyes.

"Take it easy. We still don't know what she did to you..." Then, Zoro's words furrow his brows further. "Let me take a look," he urges, sitting up and already moving his hand up to where he remembers Zoro being hit, but the swordsman turns his shoulder out of his reach and Sanji's face pulls into a snarl.

Of course he'd be difficult about this. He has never not been difficult about anything since the first time Sanji spoke to him. "I'm trying to help you, idiot."

[petrokhelidon]

It stands to reason that whatever small amount of peace they managed to broker between them would be broken pretty much immediately because the Cook can't leave well enough alone and Zoro's first instinct upon the Cook reaching for him is to flinch away and raise his lips in a snarl, like a dog being cornered.

Unlike any other time where they did their usual push and pull, however, their strength wasn't at equal level anymore. Whereas usually when they would ask or order the other to do something, the other would say no and they'd fight their frustrations out until one of them ( Zoro, most of the time ) would give in and acquiesce, rinse and repeat.

Right now, Sanji could do whatever the fuck he wanted and Zoro has no means to stop him.

And It's not even that he thinks Sanji would deliberately hurt him. For all their bickering and fighting, acting like they can't stand the sight of each other on a good day, Zoro does actually trust the Cook to have his back and keep him safe when necessary. Hell, he can't even say he actually hates the guy, quite the opposite much to his eternal aggravation.

But with the lack of control he still has over his own damn faculties making him feel too raw and vulnerable to allow someone to touch him, most of all the Cook, still sitting there with that stupid bulge in his pants looking flushed and ruffled and concerned like he actually gives a damn in return━.

" Yeah?! " He snarls back, weakly slapping away Sanji's hand before shifting away a little further, growling when he feels a bead of sweat run past his brow and sting his eye. " And what good is looking at it gonna do, huh? Last I checked you're not a doctor, " And they still had no fucking clue what that witch had done to him, as Sanji himself said. Who knows if it wouldn't affect the Cook as well? He says as much, his voice already losing some of its intensity. " We don't need you to get infected by whatever's got me either. Hands off. "

He takes a few deep breaths to catch himself, pressing his hand over the affected shoulder. " Whoever was chasing us must be gone by now. We can ask around with the locals, find this bitch again. "

[seasaltandsmoke]

"You know what?" He barks back. "Fine!" And then without thinking twice about it he shoves Zoro off of himself and stands. Previous concern is replaced entirely by annoyance, and if there isn't as much force behind the action as there usually would be, it has nothing to do with how little Zoro seems to be able to resist that push, or the fact that he looks like a stern breeze could knock him over. Sanji has never seen his this weak before, not since Mihawk cut him down at the Baratie that is — and isn't that a memory he'd like to repress. But of course Zoro's signature scowl is still in place, of course Zoro's damned stubborness would prevail no matter how weak or injured he is.

Sanji grits his teeth, at least his problem from before has begun to resolve itself the moment Zoro started being contrary. "Get your ass up before I kick it back to the ship for namecalling a lovely lady."

He curses under his breath as he turns away from Zoro, hands shaky and as he fiddles with bis lighter, desperate for a smoke now that his morning has begun in the worst way possible. He hates when his friends get injured, hates when he's left helpless in light of it, and yes he wouldn't admit it to Zoro under threat of death, but he does consider him a friend. So, of course he still feels guilty when Zoro practically stumbles to his feet, of course he is reminded violently of why the swordsman is even in this state in the first place.

Sanji hisses when he burns himself while trying to light his cigarette, serves him right for worrying about someone who clearly couldn't care less about his concerns. It's always been this way with Zoro, how idiotic of him to assume it would ever be different. It's not like he can ever admit to any of this, not like he would ever bring up the fact that Zoro and his stubbornness, his conviction is one of the reasons Sanji is even part of the Strawhats in the first place!

But it's not like that would change anything. Zoro doesn't care anyway. So, Sanji bites back his worries and instead goes back to what is familiar.

"And while we're at it, give me my jacket back!"

[seasaltandsmoke]

When the stranger declined his offer by indicating the booze his own gaze briefly flickered down to the bottle, recognizing the label. He hummed, then shrugged. "Good choice." He commented around the cigarette in his mouth as he pocketed the pack and the lighter.

Not necessarily the beverage he would have picked, as he was more of a red wine kind of man himself, but he could see the appeal. He considered it for a moment. Given the chance he would pair it with some spicy octopus slices, maybe some fried rice, too, and for dessert—

Sanji stopped himself before his mind could go on a tangent on which dishes he'd pair with any given ingredient or drink he came across like it tended to do and instead turned around to lean against the railing. Usually not inclined to spare a man another look he still allowed his attention to firmly settle on this one.

With the man having turned his head towards him Sanji was now able to properly study his appearance, took in the lines of his face, the small curl of his lips as he regarded him, the prominent scars across his eyes and yet the surprisingly kind gaze that met him despite them.

Something close to recognition tugged at the back of his mind; as if he'd seen him before, somewhere, sometime. Judging by appearance alone he was part of the pirate crew that came bursting in earlier, maybe he had seen him then after all, and yet there was something about him, something suggesting there was far more to him than met the eye.

Sanji took a slow drag from his cigarette as he contemplated this, holding the smoke in, feeling the burn of it before gently letting it out on his next breath, angling his head away as to not give the stranger a face full of smoke. He may have disturbed the man's solitude without asking, but he wasn't that rude.

Then, he smiled at the question, lowering his hand to tap off some ash. "I wonder—" he said in a low drawl, then chuckled quietly. "—If not as one of the employees, do I strike you more as a Marine or as new money?"

These days there were just these two categories after all, not counting the very rare occasion of actual pirates docking at the Baratie as they were few and far between, ever since some higher ranked marines became part of the regulars at least. Sanji was neither of the former of course, and he sure as hell wasn't a pirate either, although the assumption would have been a fair one given the number of outlaws and misfits on the staff, the latter were more fitting descriptions for him in a way, but he was genuinely curious about how people perceived him.

Sanji tilted his chin towards the sky, took in the stars, absentmindedly mapped out the few constellations he knew. The few he remembered from when his mother explained them to him all those years ago— He shut that thought down quick.

The cigarette lit up brighter when he put it back to his lips. He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, allowing his shoulders to unwind. Another day spent here. Another day of him doing the same things over and over with no change on the horizon. With no step taken towards his dream...

Another tap against the cigarette. Some more ash fell to the wooden deck. "I'm a cook. The Sous Chef of this place to be exact." He answered the question at last, looking at him again. In part to gauge his reaction, and also because he was still struggling to get a proper read on the guy.

[seaoftales]

The question had him think for a little bit. Another swing from the bottle, another wave of the familiar and welcoming burn going down his throat as the red haired captain let out a soft hum. The sake was really good, just as the lad pointed out. Shanks was even inclined to take the bottle with him once he emptied it to try and find where it came from. Good booze meant an even better party, both of which he was rather fond of.

Now properly turning to his side, as clumsy as it was without having a left arm to properly lean against the railing, the red haired captain gave the blond another good look over before settling on his answer.

"Neither, really. You look like new money, but don't have that cocky and high-and-mighty attitude about you. Neither are you a Marine. We wouldn't be having this conversation if you were." Nobody wealthy would want to be seen with the likes of him, and the lad not being a Marine, well, that was rather self explanatory. He was a wanted man after all, no Marine would take lightly to his presence, especially as unarmed as him and his crew were. An easy target to take down and cash his bounty in - or so they wished to think - to prove themselves to be a hero of the Marines just like good ole' Garp was for capturing and taking down Gol D. Roger.

The news that the blond was, in fact, the sous chef of Baratie came unexpected and left the pirate in mild shock.

For a few moments, Shanks was certain that he was pulling his leg. There was just no way that he, as young as he was, or at least as young as he looked like, could be a sous chef. Then again, he had witnessed all sorts of things in his life that at first seemed very unlikely, with the statement at hand being one of the milder and way more believable ones.

It would also explain why he hadn't seen him during the short time he spent inside the restaurant. He'd seen waiters, the occasional glimpse inside the kitchen as he waited for his booze, as short whiled as they were.

"That's impressive," he finally spoke. "Clearly you live up to the title. There's two things my men like more than any gold and silver and women. Good alcohol and good food. I reckon they're very sated and happy if you've been one of the ones that prepared the food." One had to keep in mind that the Red Hair Pirates loved alcohol and food no matter the quality, though what stuck out this time was that they fell silent the moment they got their food and drinks. There weren't many things that were able to shut up as loud and cheerful of a crew as his.

[seasaltandsmoke]

Sanji raised his hand to put his cogarette back to his mouth, taking another drag from it. His other hand burried into his pocket, thumb following the line of one edge of his lighter shoved within. He leaned more firmly against the railing behind him, a smile curling his lips at the evident surprise that met him when the other man processed what he just told him.

"Please, stop it with the flattery" he said dryly at the high praise, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You'll make me blush." But it was said in a way that suggested Sanji well knew his worth. He was the best cook on this ship. Hell, the best goddamn cook in the East Blue even, and he took pride in that, and in being part of the Baratie. Still, it was nice to be recognized for his abilities.

He huffed out another bit of smoke into the evening air, the wind picking up around them. And despite their easy conversation Sanji could not help but weigh all the man was telling him carefully. Marines and pirates, he learned over the course of his life, were equally dangerous, piss off the wrong guy and it didn't matter who his blade was sworn to they still cut the same.

His men. He said. So he stumbled upon the captain of those pirates. Maybe that was were the sense that he knew him came from. There was likely a wanted poster with his name on it somewhere. Sanji may have passed one of them when the Baratie was at shore at some point in the past.

Something occured to him then, unrelated to whether or not the man had a bounty on his head.

"What about you?" He asked, when the man spoke about his crew eating and drinking their fill, but when he spoke of the quality of their food it seemed more like a musing than first hand experience. A curled brow raised at him. He had a sneaking suspicion. "Have you had anything other than booze tonight?"

[seasaltandsmoke]

Despite the circumstances, this night's sleep is the best he's had in years. Yes, his back may be aching from the couch being well worn and the space being too cramped to even just fit him comfortably, let alone another person on top of him. But it's exactly this weight and warmth pinning him down that has Sanji want to burry closer, to hold on tighter.

It doesn't even matter that one of the springs digs awkwardly into his lower back, ever since Drum Island he struggled to find a suitable position for sleeping because of the thing Doctor Kureha used to fix his spine.

But it's nothing the comfort of a warm solid body cannot ease. Sanji burries closer, nuzzling into thuck soft strands of hair and inhales deeply, taking in the familiar scent of steel and a tinge of soap Sanji could swear is very similar to his own...

He furrows his brows, hands moving along warm skin, feeling strong muscles beneath his fingertips and fabric soft from many washes shifting against the back of his hands. His eyes blink open, the early morningight making him squint in the barely illuminated room.

It takes him far too long to assess where he is. His sleep-hazed mind too hazy still to reconstruct all that happened before and providing an answer to why the hell he's curled up on a couch with someone rather than tucked away back at the ship. It doesn't make a lick of sense to him that the head of hair he looks down on right now bears a very familiar shade of green, and it makes even less sense to him that they're completely entangled.

He notes the callouses on the warm hands spanning his waist, becomes more and more aware of the well-trained muscles underneath his own fingertips, absentmindedly digging his nails into otherwise unmarked flesh. He hisses when Zoro shifts, causing friction to a part of him he'd rather not be aware of right now.

Shit.

"Shit."

It's nature. It's biology. It means nothing, and yet he knows the swordsman will never let him live this down if he notices Sanji's ...predicament. Sanji tries to move, the comfort Zoro's proximity brought him before crumbling away to make way for red-faced embarrassment.

If he just shuffkes away now Zoro wouldn't notice. The man is dead to the world whenever he is sleeping, except Sanji is certain he just pretends to not wake easily most the time to get a rise out of him when he is calling him for dinner and this mossheaded fool is too damn lazy to get up right away—

Dark eyes open and Sanji is trapped, pinned underneath the bleary, softened gaze of the man that he has rarely seen display anything other than annoyance towards him.

Sanji?

His name falling so softly from Zoro's parted lips should not result in a fullbody shiver on his part and it definitely should not cause him to gape at him in awe, lips falling open with a low breath.

It takes a long moment for Sanji to gather his wits about him, far longer than it should. He has half a mind to throw Zoro off of him with one shifting of his thighs, but the memories of the fight enter his mind and he grits his teeth against the urge to immediately bring distance between them.

"How are you feeling?" He asks instead, clearing his throat when sleep makes it sound lower and raspier than usual. He hopes beyond hope that Zoro doesn't notice the way his blush tints his cheeks and ears. "That– That attack did a real number on you."

[petrokhelidon]

There's a real heart-jolting second where Zoro wonders whether they somehow got drunk last evening and something actually happened between them and he just can't remember. It's been years since he's been properly drunk, of course, but even then it's not outside the possibility of happening and his body feels weird, like it's not entirely keeping up with the confusing, tumbling speed of his thoughts, a dull head ache throbbing at the back of his skull, his tongue too dry for his damn mouth. Nevermind the fact that the cook is somehow beneath him, a rosy flush coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears, his blue eye dark and a little awed in the early light of morning and those long, slender fingers pressed into Zoro's skin in a way that has Zoro's body react without him truly meaning to.

They're still dressed, though. And the cook hasn't actually kicked him off yet in an indignant panic. Instead, aside from the obvious embarrassment he can see glinting in those ocean hues, the cook actually looks concerned.

And then he mentions the attack and yesterday's events return to him with startling and slightly humiliating clarity. First, for apparently passing out on top of the cook after being injured by some devil fruit using witch when he usually would've been more careful about letting himself get that damn close and second for even thinking for a second that cook would ever give him the light of day like that even though Zoro himself might sort of want to.

His face shutters with a scowl, the familiar furrow back between his brows as his eye sharpens. " No need to rub it in, Curls, " He grumbles, knowing he's essentially deflecting the concern when he probably should be showing some gratitude for Sanji not leaving him out to dry, or punting him to the floor. He can't actually remember the last time he's slept so solidly, so dreamlessly and there's a big part of him that suspects it's got to do with the man pinned underneath him.

Speaking of which, he should probably get up before the cook decides to kick him off after all.

Except when he tries to push himself up, it's clear that whatever took him down yesterday isn't out of his system just yet because the moment he feels the loss of the cook's warmth and that touch against his back, it's like he's hit with a sharp wave of cold that immediately and instinctively has him shiver and he only manages to push himself far enough to sit before the room spins a little too hard for his taste.

He brings a hand to his eyes, briefly covering them to stave off the nausea and feels the familiar throb in his shoulder. He exhales a frustrated hiss, lowers his hand to cast another look at the cook, still sprawled out on the couch, staring up at him with that same concern. Curse that witch, he thinks. Can't even enjoy the view or tease the damn pervert for the slight bulge he catches in those slacks or ask if he should take care of it for him.

Instead he huffs out another breath. " Thanks, for the― " He finally admits, waving a hand between them. It's what nakama do and he's glad, at least, to know Sanji'd have his back like that as well even if his pride took a good hit. Fuck it, not like the cook hasn't already seen him in that embarrassing state. It feels serious enough at this point Zoro's willing to take his help if it means getting rid of whatever's weakening him. " But not sure it helped's much as it should've. Can feel it draining me even now. "

[seasaltandsmoke]

Sanji shifts uncomfortably as Zoro leans back, pulling his hands away from his skin. He clears his throat in embarrassment when he realizes his hands had snuck beneath Zoro's clothes to seek out his warmth in his sleep and he is grateful that the swordsman does not actively pull attention to it, even though he feels his ears burning hotly when he thinks he sees Zoro's gaze stray down to the tent in his pants.

It's natural. He is half prepared to screech at him. A warm solid body pressed so close against a hot-blooded guy like him, what is a man to do?!

But instead, his attention diverts when Zoro thanks him and then his eyes widen as he sees Zoro sway even while seated, his hair no longer the only green thing about him. Sanji catches his wrist, his skin concerningly cold to the touch. He holds him steady, relieved to find that Zoro's gaze seems to clear a little as he focuses on him, face beginning to look slightly less pale. But it also serves to make Sanji realize that he still feels tired, too. Even his muscles ache in a way they haven't in a long time. Maybe the fight took more out of him than he realized as well.

He pushes the thought aside, it's clear that Zoro is well worse off than he is, no matter the headache that is forming behind his eyes.

"Take it easy. We still don't know what she did to you..." Then, Zoro's words furrow his brows further. "Let me take a look," he urges, sitting up and already moving his hand up to where he remembers Zoro being hit, but the swordsman turns his shoulder out of his reach and Sanji's face pulls into a snarl.

Of course he'd be difficult about this. He has never not been difficult about anything since the first time Sanji spoke to him. "I'm trying to help you, idiot."

[seasaltandsmoke]

@seaoftales started following

It's been a while since the Baratie last welcomed customers so clearly set on having a good time.

Most days and nights were quiet. Wealthy marines, old couples and men who tried to impress a lady with good drink and better food and yet ever ordering the same three goddamn dishes were the only people finding their way here of late. It had been going on for so long at this point that one could say Sanji got used to these highbrow people over the more rowdy customers. But admittedly, he was getting bored and him being bored always resulted in arguments, with the other cooks, and, of course, with Zeff and it usually ended with Sanji stirring up trouble with the customers by flirting with the ladies and pissing off the men in their company — all of which quickly got old if it was the only way of entertainment.

So, it was a welcome surprise when the next ship they came across had a Jolly Roger on proud display and the crew was loud and boisterous. Sanji was grinning to himself at the flabbergasted expressions painted across the faces of the other customers the moment the pirates came barging in demanding food and yelling on the top of their lungs for ale and wine.

Of course the kitchen was the usual hustle and bustle each day no matter which kind of customers came in through the door, but when the tables quickly filled with these new patrons all the cooks turned it up to eleven and Sanji's mood only brightened further when orders for several outlandish dishes came rushing in. This was what he was good at, this was what he loved.

—

It was well into the evening when he managed to steal away for a smoke after all the people were fed. Satisfied and convinced of a job well done Sanji left the closing of the kitchen to Patty and Carne. He threw his apron on one of the hooks by the door and pulled on his jacket on top his shirt, already rummaging around in his pockets for his lighter and cigarettes as he made his way out on deck...

... Only to find that his usual hiding spot was already occupied by someone else. Sanji raised one of his curled brows as he stared at the redheaded man. He didn't recognize him, but then again the man wasn't facing his way, but rather looking out at the waves moving lazily below and mot importantly, Sanji hadn't exactly spent much time outside the kitchen up to this point.

Still, he hesitated for a moment as he took in the man's form, trying to get a read on him and failing. He absentmindedly fidgeted with the cigarette in his hand, considering whether or not he should find another place to unwind. But eventually he decided it didn't matter, and who knew? Maybe the guy made for good company.

Only one way to find out.

So, with a reasonable distance between them, he stepped up beside the man and gave him a nod in greeting. A quiet click sounded from his lighter as he lit his smoke. The warm light of the small flame contrasting briefly with the cold of the moonlight overlooking them before it flickered out again as he snapped it shut.

Sanji breathed out low, a puff of smoke emitting from his mouth and dispersing into the night air. He could already feel his shoulders unwind. "Want a smoke?" He asked, offering out the pack of cigarettes.

[seaoftales]

The crew had been restless for a while now. Ever since they made good money robbing one of the larger ships of the Marine fleet dry, each of the crew members dreamt of way on how to spend their cut of the treasure. Beck's priority was getting more rounds for his trusted flintlock rifle, Hongo had been going on about new medicine books and ingredients for days on end, Lucky Roux wanted to get them as many provisions as possible to last them for quite some time.

All of them, however, agreed on one thing - their successful endeavour had to be celebrated. Shanks who suggested they don't just go to the first port they find and head straight to a bar, but instead seek out the one and only restaurant on sea - the Baratie. Even if out of place, as they were pirates and he knew the restaurant was frequented by those far wealthier and coming from respectable - and rich - families, they deserved the good food and drinks served there, and it wasn't as if they'd dine and dash. Far from it, in fact.

The looks on the faces of the patrons as his loud and cheerful crew marched in was priceless. Some stared in horror, others stood up, ready to pay and leave, while others, he suspected part of the Marines by the looks of it, muttered under their breaths. It took guts to show up in a place where he could easily be apprehended, but that was just the thing. The Marines were after him for the most part. His crew were small fish in the pond even with the bounties some of them had.

Shanks looked on as his crew occupied most of the restaurants tables, ordering sake, wine and ale and pretty much everything possible from the menu. He smiled to himself. They deserved it.

Still, he couldn't exactly shake off the feeling that things might escalate, especially with those few men from a few tables away that still glared daggers at him. He saw Beck tense up in his seat, perhaps thinking the same, though most of their weapons were left on board. Whatever they had were small blades easily hidden in boots and pockets, and should it come down to it, steak knives, though Shanks wasn't particularly fond of them being used as a weapon.

Before the meals were served, the drinks were brought up. The red haired captain asked the waiter for one additional bottle of sake which he promptly took from him and made his way outside to the deck.

The sea had been painted a lovely shade of orange and red, the sea beneath the ship lazily moving in small waves and glimmering in the evening sun. He took a sip of the liquor, making a face as the familiar burn spread down his throat and into his stomach. Quite ironic how he had been the one insisting on coming here, and now he wouldn't even get a meal. Maybe, if he changed his mind, he'd go back inside, though for now, his men's hunger and thirst were sated, and that was what mattered to him.

It hadn't been well into the night that he finally heard footsteps approach, the red hairs mind already lightly abuzz from the booze. Beck would have made his presence known already, and his footsteps were heavier than the ones he heard just now, he noted.

Shanks looked to his side, seeing a young man standing next to him, greeting him with a nod which he returned before shaking his head and lifting the by now almost empty sake bottle. "I'm good, thanks. Got my own poison," he replied, turning to face the blond with a small smile. It allowed him a better way to properly take him in, right off the bat noticing the curled eyebrow, and the accent, too, quite similar to Benn's.

"You work here or are you a guest?" Might as well make some small talk.

[seasaltandsmoke]

When the stranger declined his offer by indicating the booze his own gaze briefly flickered down to the bottle, recognizing the label. He hummed, then shrugged. "Good choice." He commented around the cigarette in his mouth as he pocketed the pack and the lighter.

Not necessarily the beverage he would have picked, as he was more of a red wine kind of man himself, but he could see the appeal. He considered it for a moment. Given the chance he would pair it with some spicy octopus slices, maybe some fried rice, too, and for dessert—

Sanji stopped himself before his mind could go on a tangent on which dishes he'd pair with any given ingredient or drink he came across like it tended to do and instead turned around to lean against the railing. Usually not inclined to spare a man another look he still allowed his attention to firmly settle on this one.

With the man having turned his head towards him Sanji was now able to properly study his appearance, took in the lines of his face, the small curl of his lips as he regarded him, the prominent scars across his eyes and yet the surprisingly kind gaze that met him despite them.

Something close to recognition tugged at the back of his mind; as if he'd seen him before, somewhere, sometime. Judging by appearance alone he was part of the pirate crew that came bursting in earlier, maybe he had seen him then after all, and yet there was something about him, something suggesting there was far more to him than met the eye.

Sanji took a slow drag from his cigarette as he contemplated this, holding the smoke in, feeling the burn of it before gently letting it out on his next breath, angling his head away as to not give the stranger a face full of smoke. He may have disturbed the man's solitude without asking, but he wasn't that rude.

Then, he smiled at the question, lowering his hand to tap off some ash. "I wonder—" he said in a low drawl, then chuckled quietly. "—If not as one of the employees, do I strike you more as a Marine or as new money?"

These days there were just these two categories after all, not counting the very rare occasion of actual pirates docking at the Baratie as they were few and far between, ever since some higher ranked marines became part of the regulars at least. Sanji was neither of the former of course, and he sure as hell wasn't a pirate either, although the assumption would have been a fair one given the number of outlaws and misfits on the staff, the latter were more fitting descriptions for him in a way, but he was genuinely curious about how people perceived him.

Sanji tilted his chin towards the sky, took in the stars, absentmindedly mapped out the few constellations he knew. The few he remembered from when his mother explained them to him all those years ago— He shut that thought down quick.

The cigarette lit up brighter when he put it back to his lips. He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, allowing his shoulders to unwind. Another day spent here. Another day of him doing the same things over and over with no change on the horizon. With no step taken towards his dream...

Another tap against the cigarette. Some more ash fell to the wooden deck. "I'm a cook. The Sous Chef of this place to be exact." He answered the question at last, looking at him again. In part to gauge his reaction, and also because he was still struggling to get a proper read on the guy.

[seasaltandsmoke]

@seaoftales started following

It's been a while since the Baratie last welcomed customers so clearly set on having a good time.

Most days and nights were quiet. Wealthy marines, old couples and men who tried to impress a lady with good drink and better food and yet ever ordering the same three goddamn dishes were the only people finding their way here of late. It had been going on for so long at this point that one could say Sanji got used to these highbrow people over the more rowdy customers. But admittedly, he was getting bored and him being bored always resulted in arguments, with the other cooks, and, of course, with Zeff and it usually ended with Sanji stirring up trouble with the customers by flirting with the ladies and pissing off the men in their company — all of which quickly got old if it was the only way of entertainment.

So, it was a welcome surprise when the next ship they came across had a Jolly Roger on proud display and the crew was loud and boisterous. Sanji was grinning to himself at the flabbergasted expressions painted across the faces of the other customers the moment the pirates came barging in demanding food and yelling on the top of their lungs for ale and wine.

Of course the kitchen was the usual hustle and bustle each day no matter which kind of customers came in through the door, but when the tables quickly filled with these new patrons all the cooks turned it up to eleven and Sanji's mood only brightened further when orders for several outlandish dishes came rushing in. This was what he was good at, this was what he loved.

—

It was well into the evening when he managed to steal away for a smoke after all the people were fed. Satisfied and convinced of a job well done Sanji left the closing of the kitchen to Patty and Carne. He threw his apron on one of the hooks by the door and pulled on his jacket on top his shirt, already rummaging around in his pockets for his lighter and cigarettes as he made his way out on deck...

... Only to find that his usual hiding spot was already occupied by someone else. Sanji raised one of his curled brows as he stared at the redheaded man. He didn't recognize him, but then again the man wasn't facing his way, but rather looking out at the waves moving lazily below and mot importantly, Sanji hadn't exactly spent much time outside the kitchen up to this point.

Still, he hesitated for a moment as he took in the man's form, trying to get a read on him and failing. He absentmindedly fidgeted with the cigarette in his hand, considering whether or not he should find another place to unwind. But eventually he decided it didn't matter, and who knew? Maybe the guy made for good company.

Only one way to find out.

So, with a reasonable distance between them, he stepped up beside the man and gave him a nod in greeting. A quiet click sounded from his lighter as he lit his smoke. The warm light of the small flame contrasting briefly with the cold of the moonlight overlooking them before it flickered out again as he snapped it shut.

Sanji breathed out low, a puff of smoke emitting from his mouth and dispersing into the night air. He could already feel his shoulders unwind. "Want a smoke?" He asked, offering out the pack of cigarettes.

[sleepy-edits]

[rpsourcedmemes]

Send 👀 for my muse to catch yours staring at them!

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[seasaltandsmoke]

This may just be the most sureal interaction the two of them have had to this date. It's clear that whatever the beautiful lady from earlier did to Zoro not only weakened him but clearly screwed with his mind as well. There is no other sensible explanation for the way he snuggles up to Sanji now.

"What the hell are you—" The cook hisses at him when an arm winds around him and he finds himself held in place against the swordsman and it's only the fact that Zoro's movements are sluggish and his voice growing ever more quiet that Sanji doesn't reward him with a firm kick to the chest. He tenses, shoulders locking up and eyes widening when Zoro tilts his head up and presses close to his throat. Sanji blinks, a hand coming up to Zoro's shoulder to push him away, but then his crewmate just goes limp against him, his entire weight bearing down and Sanji instinctively holds him up when he threatens to slip off the couch.

Zoro's arm digs uncomfortably into his side, Sanji's back is angled weirdly, the position he is in becoming more and more uncomfortable with every passing moment. There is also the fact Zoro is still shivering, his body temperature oddly cold, even the skin of his face now pressed into the crook of Sanji's neck feels worryingly cold and so, Sanji stays put for now.

It lasts a whole ten minutes before he curses and tries to move, a twinge in his side causing him to try and shuffle out from under Zoro. It results in the swordsman shifting more firmly against him, his other arm winding around Sanji too, his face falling to his chest.

Sanji flushes in embarrassment, looking up at the worn ceiling of their hideout and wondering where he has gone wrong to be stuck here with Zoro rather than with a beautiful woman, but then that would have meant a lady taking that hit for him, and it is already bad enough that Zoro found it necessary to jump to protect him. He shivers at the thought of Nami or Robin having to go through something similar because of him. He'd never forgive himself...

He looks down at Zoro, guilt once again tightening his throat. The hand that fell to Zoro's shoulder to push him away now settles lightly over the curve of it. "Idiot," he whispers. Then grits his teeth at how softly it sounds.

He doesn't allow himself to think too closely about what he does next, reasons it away with not wanting to spend the whole night with his body in an awkward angle and risk waking up with his entire back in knots, but he rearranges them until they are pressed together on the couch a little more comfortably, Zoro's legs between his own, Sanji's arms drapped a little awkwardly over his back.

At least he's warming up now. Sanji thinks, as he adjusts his jacket around the swordsman's shoulders once more and admittedly, feeling his weight against him, as well as being able to monitor the slow rise and fall of his chest is... almost comforting in a way.

"You owe me for this," he says quietly, head sinking back against the armrest of the couch. Zoro, of course, doesn't answer him, but Sanji feels him shuffle ever so much closer, his green hair tickling the underside of his chin. His eyes close as well, the fading adrenaline making way for exhaustion. He still fights it, knowing he should stay awake in case someone comes across their hiding place, but eventually he is lulled to sleep by Zoro's returning warmth and the slow rhythm of his breathing.

And if he holds him a little closer just before slipping into unconsciousness, nobody needs to know.

[petrokhelidon]

Zoro barely reacts to any of Sanji's maneuvring, already too dead asleep to really know what's going on or bear witness to Sanji's quiet freak out at having Zoro pretty much passed out in his arms. Were he in his right mind, he sure as hell wouldn't have made himself so vulnerable in the cook's presence, wouldn't have tried to cuddle up the way he has despite liking it, deep down, the close contact to another body and the comfort he felt from being held that firmly a sensation he hasn't felt in a long, long time. No, under normal circumstances, they would have continued bickering and eventually, Zoro would have gone to rest on the floor while the cook got the couch and that would've been that.

As it is, all he does is instinctively snuggle a little closer when Sanji lowers himself down and pulls Zoro to lie on top of him, head pillowed against his collar bone and his hands curling more firmly around the cook's waist as their legs shifted together. Had he still been awake, he might've even likened it to some kind of fever dream and taken a little more advantage of the situation, the cook's rare non-confrontational demeanour in light of Zoro's weakened state too nice an opportunity to pass up.

He does wake up at some point during the night, his mind sleep-addled and heavy still with exhaustion, grey eyes blinking lazily as he tries to make sense of the body beneath him belonging to the cook of all people, before he gives up and decides to simply go back to sleep. He doesn't notice then that he does feel better than before, shivers only slightly at the sensation of Sanji's fingers slipped beneath his haramaki and resting against bare skin like a hot brand, making Zoro think he must be imagining it all, even if the idea of his dreams featuring cuddling with the cook seems embarrassing at best.

His own hands find their way beneath Sanji's shirt too in retaliation, spanning the man's slim waist and that's about that.

And then, of course, comes morning.

Zoro doesn't truly wake until the bed beneath him starts moving somewhat insistently. Not altogether an unusual occurence, considering they live on a ship most of the time and they tend to hit rough waters regularly enough, but Zoro's not really known his bed to have legs that tighten a little around his own when he tries to shift, nor hands that dig into the small of his back before completely freezing. He's pretty sure beds usually don't curse in a low, whispered hiss either.

His eyes blink open blearily, protest thick on his lips as he lifts his head far enough to see what the fuck is going on━ only for his eyes to meet the crystal blue hues of the cook.

Zoro finds himself stunned enough he completely forgets everything that lead up to them tangled like this, his voice heavy and softened with sleep. " Sanji? "

[seasaltandsmoke]

Despite the circumstances, this night's sleep is the best he's had in years. Yes, his back may be aching from the couch being well worn and the space being too cramped to even just fit him comfortably, let alone another person on top of him. But it's exactly this weight and warmth pinning him down that has Sanji want to burry closer, to hold on tighter.

It doesn't even matter that one of the springs digs awkwardly into his lower back, ever since Drum Island he struggled to find a suitable position for sleeping because of the thing Doctor Kureha used to fix his spine.

But it's nothing the comfort of a warm solid body cannot ease. Sanji burries closer, nuzzling into thuck soft strands of hair and inhales deeply, taking in the familiar scent of steel and a tinge of soap Sanji could swear is very similar to his own...

He furrows his brows, hands moving along warm skin, feeling strong muscles beneath his fingertips and fabric soft from many washes shifting against the back of his hands. His eyes blink open, the early morningight making him squint in the barely illuminated room.

It takes him far too long to assess where he is. His sleep-hazed mind too hazy still to reconstruct all that happened before and providing an answer to why the hell he's curled up on a couch with someone rather than tucked away back at the ship. It doesn't make a lick of sense to him that the head of hair he looks down on right now bears a very familiar shade of green, and it makes even less sense to him that they're completely entangled.

He notes the callouses on the warm hands spanning his waist, becomes more and more aware of the well-trained muscles underneath his own fingertips, absentmindedly digging his nails into otherwise unmarked flesh. He hisses when Zoro shifts, causing friction to a part of him he'd rather not be aware of right now.

Shit.

"Shit."

It's nature. It's biology. It means nothing, and yet he knows the swordsman will never let him live this down if he notices Sanji's ...predicament. Sanji tries to move, the comfort Zoro's proximity brought him before crumbling away to make way for red-faced embarrassment.

If he just shuffkes away now Zoro wouldn't notice. The man is dead to the world whenever he is sleeping, except Sanji is certain he just pretends to not wake easily most the time to get a rise out of him when he is calling him for dinner and this mossheaded fool is too damn lazy to get up right away—

Dark eyes open and Sanji is trapped, pinned underneath the bleary, softened gaze of the man that he has rarely seen display anything other than annoyance towards him.

Sanji?

His name falling so softly from Zoro's parted lips should not result in a fullbody shiver on his part and it definitely should not cause him to gape at him in awe, lips falling open with a low breath.

It takes a long moment for Sanji to gather his wits about him, far longer than it should. He has half a mind to throw Zoro off of him with one shifting of his thighs, but the memories of the fight enter his mind and he grits his teeth against the urge to immediately bring distance between them.

"How are you feeling?" He asks instead, clearing his throat when sleep makes it sound lower and raspier than usual. He hopes beyond hope that Zoro doesn't notice the way his blush tints his cheeks and ears. "That– That attack did a real number on you."

[seasaltandsmoke]

verses

will be expanded when I think of new stuff.

"canon"

I'm aware the anime isn't considered canon in a lot of instances but it is the medium I am most familiar with and have the easiest access to, so I am mostly basing my characterization of Sanji on what we see in the anime. There will be spoilers, as I am following the events of the anime as closely as possible.

age: 19-21 depending on ark

Sanji was born as the fourth child and third son to the ruler of the kingdom of Germa. His father Judge Vinsmoke experimented on his children and genetically altered them in hopes of turning them into super soldiers. However, Sanji did not display any of Judge's desired attributes, causing him and the rest of his family to shun Sanji as a failure, bullying and abusing him for being 'weak'.

Sanji ran away from Germa at a young age, working as a kitchen help on a ship until 'Redleg' Zeff and his pirate crew entered it. A storm caused the ship to sink and after being saved from drowning by the pirate Sanji was left stranded on a rock in the middle of the ocean alongside Zeff with no means of escape. They spent a total of 85 days there and nearly starved to death. They survived, if barely, and Zeff took Sanji under his wing as a cook and raised him under strict rules. He became the Sous Chef of the Baratie and arguably the best cook in the East Blue. From Zeff Sanji also retained his code of honor to never raise a hand (or foot) against a woman.

After Zeff and Sanji build a new home at the Baratie, Sanji grew up in that restaurant, working there nearly every day for the next decade until one fateful day a ship with a Jolly Roger bearing a strawhat arrived, bringing with it a new chapter of his life and an opportunity to chase his dream, the All Blue.

awakened

age: 24~25-ish

self-indulgent very canon-divergent verse where Sanji is on his own, and will eventually seek to either destroy or take over Germa as a means of revenge.

Sanji still grew up at the Baratie, but never met Luffy and the others. When he came of age his biological father Judge sought him out while the Baratie was at shore, letting him know that he was to return to Germa. When Zeff and the other inhabitants of the Baratie tried to oppose them after Sanji told Judge no they were killed on the spot by Sanji's siblings.

When Zeff's liveless body hit the ground, Sanji snapped.

It turned out the genetical enhancements everyone thought had failed to take effect in him only lay dormant up to this point and at last he unshackled himself, embracing his powers, getting lost in his rage. He got the jump on one of his brothers, injuring Niji severely and surprising all of them.

In the ensuing chaos Sanji managed to flee and has been on the run ever since. His father put an official bounty on his head soon after, making it even harder for him to continue running.

Sanji is ever so slowly getting stronger, and he despises it. His bounty increases, too, not by choice, but because of the endless stream of bounty hunters his father sends after him. His last resort is to find a way to the Grand Line, hoping it would allow him to outrun his past.

[seasaltandsmoke]

The furrow of his brow doesn't ease, it even deepens when instead of voicing his protest he feels Zoro slump against him without more than a heavy breath. At the very least Sanji doesn't see or smell any blood on him and Zoro doesn't whince when he shifts one arm around his middle to keep him steady and help him walk over to the couch, so he takes that as a win.

Still, there is no question about whether or not something is wrong. Whatever the lady did, she sapped Zoro of his usual unwavering strength.

The realization settles like led in his gutt.

It's one thing when his convictions cause him to come to harm. It's his choice. He's prepared to die at the hands of a lady without touching so much as a hair on her head. He will never raise hand (or foot) against a woman.

But his crewmates know that, and sometimes... sometimes they do things like Zoro did earlier. Sometimes they throw themselves in harms way because they know, because they care.

Sanji would do the same, has done so multiple times and yet it never fsils to baffle him, never fails to tighten his throat and grit his teeth. He can't even truly be irritated with Zoro anymore, too in awe is he of the fact that the swordsman took this upon himself to spare Sanji from harm.

Lost in his thoughts for the duration of them trying to get Zoro settled, Sanji doesn't notice the way Zoro basically slips from his grasp, steps growing heavier. "Oi—" He almost snaps at him to at least make an effort to carry his own weight, but the moment he turns his head amd sees the pale nature of Zoro's skin he shuts his mouth and simply tightens his hold, sitting down with him in order to properly guide him down.

Concern bites at him, overshadows the twinge of annoyance when Zoro's head rolls weakly against his shoulder.

Sanji is busy adjusting his arm to better bear Zoro's weight when he asks his question and Sanji bites the inside of his cheek when he realizes that: no, he doesn't.

He shakes his head, his mind already working to find a solution to that particular problem. "We'll just have to wait this out and make our way to the ship later." and hope that the others already made it. He tries to not let the worry get to him, which isn't exactly made easier by the fact that Zoro grows ever more heavy against him.

Sanji bristles, tense and frustrated as he is, he can't deal with Zoro's lack of awareness for personal space on top of it all. However, another insult dies on his tongue the moment he turns his head to glare at the swordsman.

Is he... shivering? It's not even that cold around here.

"Hey, Zoro... Oi!" He brings up a hand to put it against Zoro's chest, searching his face. It shouldn't be possible, but in that moment Sanji can feel the coldness seep through Zoro's shirt and into his fingertips. His eyes widen. "Shit."

Without thinking further on the matter, Sanji maneuvers them so he can shrug his jacket off. "Normally, this service is reserved for all the beautiful ladies out there. So you better be grateful for this," he mutters as he drapes the piece of clothing around Zoro's shoulders, trying to distract himself from the fact that he's more than a little freaked out by seeing Zoro this weak.

[petrokhelidon]

The moment the cook helps them down onto the couch, Zoro feels hit with yet another wave of exhaustion that almost knocks him out then and there. Fuck, he can barely even make out what Sanji is saying to him, has already forgot his own question with the way his mind swims and his vision grows blurry and with his limbs feeling altogether too heavy, he can't even stop himself from lolling his head against the cook's shoulder. Can't even bring himself to care about any potential repercussions, even as Sanji stiffens beneath him.

All that matters is that the cook is warm, and safe, the scent of him the only familiar anchor he has to hold on to to keep himself from floating away entirely. It's like he's drunk, no longer in control of his own faculties, the earlier battle and adrenaline crash having sapped him completely.

At the back of his head, a thousand alarm bells are going off, fear and worry curling through his veins and snaring his lungs. Zoro feels himself shiver, drenched in a sudden cold sweat at the thought that it might not get better. That whatever's happened to him will keep him in this trapped state forever until they can find a way to fix it; and until then Zoro's practically useless. To himself, to the crew, to this entire damn situation. " Curls━, " he mumbles out, not even knowing what he wants to say next as his eyelids become heavier too; wariness drowning out the panic for now.

When did it become so cold as well? He shivers again, a noise of protest worming its way past his lips when Sanji shifts and jostles him from his position━ though it's quickly followed by a relieved sigh when he's surrounded by a sudden rush of warmth, the cook's smell becoming sharper and more present causing Zoro's senses to briefly sharpen as well.

The cook had given him his coat, the fabric now snug around Zoro's shoulders.

" 's warm, " He mutters non-sensically and finds himself folding into it further, pressing himself a little more firmly still against the cook as well. " Smells nice, " He continues, unaware of what he's giving away, an embarrassing confession he is sure to regret the moment he regains his higher functions. A grumble follows when the cook shifts again, almost dislodging Zoro's cheek from the bony curve of his shoulder and without thinking, he sneaks an arm around the cook's waist and turns a little more towards him with the intent to keep him there, despite how heavy the limb feels. " Stop moving. "

It almost, almost feels like some kind of dream, with the haziness of his thoughts, the way Sanji's body feels against him just like a few dreams he's regretful to admit he's had up until that point. The fact that the cook isn't pushing him away, likely too surprised and worried that Zoro is even lowering his guard like this at all, yet another sign he's not doing fine. It's that dreamlike quality, that sense of surreality that has him believe this might not even be truly happening, that it's another figment conjured up by his foolish heart that has him tilts his head up just a little to nuzzle against the cook's throat in a move he never would've done otherwise, breath damp his skin, before his eyes finally slip shut.

[seasaltandsmoke]

This may just be the most sureal interaction the two of them have had to this date. It's clear that whatever the beautiful lady from earlier did to Zoro not only weakened him but clearly screwed with his mind as well. There is no other sensible explanation for the way he snuggles up to Sanji now.

"What the hell are you—" The cook hisses at him when an arm winds around him and he finds himself held in place against the swordsman and it's only the fact that Zoro's movements are sluggish and his voice growing ever more quiet that Sanji doesn't reward him with a firm kick to the chest. He tenses, shoulders locking up and eyes widening when Zoro tilts his head up and presses close to his throat. Sanji blinks, a hand coming up to Zoro's shoulder to push him away, but then his crewmate just goes limp against him, his entire weight bearing down and Sanji instinctively holds him up when he threatens to slip off the couch.

Zoro's arm digs uncomfortably into his side, Sanji's back is angled weirdly, the position he is in becoming more and more uncomfortable with every passing moment. There is also the fact Zoro is still shivering, his body temperature oddly cold, even the skin of his face now pressed into the crook of Sanji's neck feels worryingly cold and so, Sanji stays put for now.

It lasts a whole ten minutes before he curses and tries to move, a twinge in his side causing him to try and shuffle out from under Zoro. It results in the swordsman shifting more firmly against him, his other arm winding around Sanji too, his face falling to his chest.

Sanji flushes in embarrassment, looking up at the worn ceiling of their hideout and wondering where he has gone wrong to be stuck here with Zoro rather than with a beautiful woman, but then that would have meant a lady taking that hit for him, and it is already bad enough that Zoro found it necessary to jump to protect him. He shivers at the thought of Nami or Robin having to go through something similar because of him. He'd never forgive himself...

He looks down at Zoro, guilt once again tightening his throat. The hand that fell to Zoro's shoulder to push him away now settles lightly over the curve of it. "Idiot," he whispers. Then grits his teeth at how softly it sounds.

He doesn't allow himself to think too closely about what he does next, reasons it away with not wanting to spend the whole night with his body in an awkward angle and risk waking up with his entire back in knots, but he rearranges them until they are pressed together on the couch a little more comfortably, Zoro's legs between his own, Sanji's arms drapped a little awkwardly over his back.

At least he's warming up now. Sanji thinks, as he adjusts his jacket around the swordsman's shoulders once more and admittedly, feeling his weight against him, as well as being able to monitor the slow rise and fall of his chest is... almost comforting in a way.

"You owe me for this," he says quietly, head sinking back against the armrest of the couch. Zoro, of course, doesn't answer him, but Sanji feels him shuffle ever so much closer, his green hair tickling the underside of his chin. His eyes close as well, the fading adrenaline making way for exhaustion. He still fights it, knowing he should stay awake in case someone comes across their hiding place, but eventually he is lulled to sleep by Zoro's returning warmth and the slow rhythm of his breathing.

And if he holds him a little closer just before slipping into unconsciousness, nobody needs to know.

[seasaltandsmoke]

muse

NAME: Vinsmoke, Sanji

AGE: depends on verse (canon: 18-21)

D.O.B: March 2nd

GENDER: cis male

SEXUALITY: bisexual (closeted)

AFFILIATION: Strawhat Pirates.

BIO: After running away frim his abusive family at an early age, he found a mentor in the former pirate Zeff and a new home at the 'Baratie', a restaurant at sea. Over the years he learned his trade as a cook, becoming arguably the best in the East Blue.

Despite being reluctant to leave the Baratie when Luffy first asked him to join his crew, he eventually agreed, deciding to pursue his own dream of finding the 'All Blue', a fantastical ocean where all kinds of tasty sea creatures from all over the world are supposed to lurk.

POTENTIAL RP-HOOKS:

I'm flexible in terms of timeline and plot, these are just bare-bones ideas to provide a basis to be expanded upon and are by no means set in stone. Hit me up OOC via dms anytime to plot!

our muses meet while Sanji is still Sous Chef at the Baratie. Zeff likely made him wait tables again because of some argument.

Sanji was split up from his crew and got injured somehow and your muse stumbles upon him and decides to help.

Sanji stumbles upon your muse being injured and decides to help, and feed them, because... you know... it's Sanji, he can't not.

They get to talking. At a bar.

Your muse gets into an argument with Sanji at a market on some island over who gets the last of the rare ingredient on sale. He insists he definitely saw it first.

Sanji is his usual overbearing self around a woman and your muse calls him out on it.

in general: any male muses, please flirt with him, reactions would likely be hilarious and I'm here for it.

[seasaltandsmoke]

headcanon

There is always a small part of him missing the Baratiè and Zeff and the others on any given day, even though Sanji will not admit to it. However, when gets particularly homesick, he will cook dishes that were served back home, either from the menu, or some simpler dishes Zeff used to have him practice over and over again when he was still in training.

Admittedly, the further they sail on the Grand Line, the harder it gets to acquire certain ingredients needed for them, regional fish in particular, so it always brightens his day if they stumble upon a market with East Blue delicacies. Sometimes by some weird stroke of luck the others will even manage to fish up something themselves and Sanji can usually be found preparing dishes while humming happily to himself soon after.

[seasaltandsmoke]

rules

these are (mostly) guidelines I guess and might occasionally be expanded as I think of things, though there shouldn’t be anything major. I’d like to think I’m a chill person to write with. If you have any questions feel free to reach out and we can talk things through.

I. The usual applies. basic roleplay ettiquette. don’t take control of my character unless we plotted something out beforehand. don’t be a prick in general and we’re good.

II. Another basic thing you’ve probably read before: I’m 30 years old, and Sanji is 18+ at the very least. I will not write smut with minors. nsfw and other mature content will occur on my blog and will be tagged as nsfw.

III. I’m pretty new to writing Sanji and One Piece lore, but I have just about 10+ years or so of roleplay experience and have written a bunch of other muses before.

IV. Just as a disclaimer: English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any spelling or grammar mistakes when you find them.

V. Feel free to poke me about replies every now and again if I owe you, but know that I am a student at university and I also work 20h a week to pay the bills and such.

VI. I will only write threads with mutuals, and I am very selective with which threads I pour what little free time I do have into, but my ask is also open to any asks in general, they just most likely won’t turn into a thread if we’re not mutuals. STARTER CALLS ARE FOR MUTUALS ONLY.

VII. Concerning ships: I must admit that I am mad down to ship romantically, a shipping-whore if you will, but I must also warn you that shipping with me tends to involve lots of angst and also lots of big elaborate plots where our muses struggle to find their way to eachother.

VIII. rp memes do not have an expiration date. I’ll tag them ‘rpmemes’ and anything filed under that tag is fair game to be send in at any point in time.

IX. I am not currently looking for crossover threads with other franchises any thread will be set in the One Piece universe by default.

[seasaltandsmoke]

They turn a few corners in hopes of losing the enemies still in pursuit. Sanji doesn't like splitting from the crew, but he'll just have to trust in their abilities to get themselves to safety. Right now he needs to focus on their shitty swordsman and withstand the urge to hit him over the head with the heel of his boot for his stubborness. "Yeah, sure." He scoffs. As if he'd leave him. "And how long is that supposed to take? A year? Without me you don't even know your left from your right."

Once again he grasps Zoro's arm, irritated about the man pulling away from him and wasting precious time. His throat feels tight, from running he tells himself, not concern. He drags Zoro further along when footsteps sound behind them, far too close for comfort. Sanji leads them into an alley, meaning to go through it to another main street and circle back to the ship after a brief detour, but then he hears yelling ahead; another group of people on the lookout for them no doubt.

"Shit."

Sanji looks back, gaze briefly lingering on Zoro's face. He looks pale. No time. He looks ahead again. Neither direction seems particularly inviting right now, not when Zoro is not at full strength and Sanji's own ribs ache still from his encounter with that beautiful yet feisty lady from earlier.

His gaze falls on a boarded up window to their left, hidden mostly behind a stack of abandoned crates and within the blink of an eye he makes a decision. With one well-aimed kick the boards are no more and he prays that the commotion outside the alley overshadowed this particular sound.

He practically shoves Zoro inside the run down building, fighting the wave of worry when he sees the other man sway and stumble in light of it. He briefly watches Zoro brace himself against a nearby wall, but Sanji doesn't have time to come to his aid just yet. He climbs in after him and once inside grabs the next best thing — an old wardrobe — to shove infront the window, hoping to conceal it best he can.

He can feel the irritation radiating off of Zoro, but before the other has a chance to curse him out for manhandling and ignoring him once again, Sanji presses a hand to his mouth and a finger to his own lips, fierce gaze bidding him to be quiet. And sure enough, there are hurried steps outside the haphazardly barricaded window. Sanji tenses. A drop of sweat runs down the side of his face and mingles with the blood from before as they stand unmoving, both barely breathing, although he can feel Zoro's weak exhales through his nose against the back of his hand.

Outside, men shout at eachother. Someone barks an order. They hear more footsteps and then silence.

Sanji exhales long and drawn out, relief rounding his shoulders. He pulls his hand away from Zoro's mouth and takes a step back, his one visible eyebrow furrowing as he takes in his crewmate's overall state. He looks absolutely wiped.

Sanji bites the inside of his cheek, then throws a glance over his shoulder at the other windows of the place, all of them nailed shut just like the first one, but poorly, letting in some light from the outside. He peers through one of the gaps, and finds the town still in uproar over their disappearance.

"We should stay here for a bit." He tells Zoro, voice a low drawl. Maybe even until nightfall. He doesn't like the thought of spending anymore time in a hostile environment, but right now it is their best bet to stay undetected. He turns back to Zoro, finally losing the battle against himself amd needong to address the issue:

"...You hurt?"

[petrokhelidon]

" And what's that supposed to mean, huh, shitty cook? " His own teeth bare in a snarl, jaw working in irritation even if his voice doesn't sound nearly as forceful as he might've liked, the words even coming out with a faint hint of a waver. Whatever. As long as they can get out of here and Zoro can get a moment to himself to just breathe and take stock of his injuries without someone trying to attack or, heaven forbid, hover around like a worried mother, he'll be fine in no time. Least that's what he has to keep telling himself, because he's not ready to think of any alternative.

As if he, Roronoa Zoro, greatest swordsman of the East Blue and soon all the seas, would let some witch who has to make use of some underhanded devil fruit power get the better of him. So he keeps pushing on, even if his feet feel sluggish with each step and he feels more and more out of breath the harder they try to run away.

In the end, it's almost a relief when they finally stop. Almost, because a renewed flare of irritation licks quickly at its heel the moment Sanji unceremoniously shoves him inside some boarded up hovel rather than continue on to the Merry. He's aware enough it's probably for the best, that in his condition right now the possibility of them actually getting to the ship without being ambushed again by the inhabitants of this shitty, godforsaken island is abysmally low, but that doesn't mean the very idea of having to hide and cower like a bunch of weaklings doesn't grate enormously on his ego.

Also the cook is standing too close, the heat of his palm slapped over Zoro's mouth causing his cheeks to flush an almost feverish red. It's too much in his current state, his defenses weakened mentally as well as physically and Zoro hates the way the cook's scent and body heat invade his senses, spice and sea salt and cigarette smoke, has his heart race a little faster, has his breathing speed up, sends a shiver of something deeper race down his spine. He almost growls in response, frustration broiling beneath his skin, thoughts a whirlwind of vague panic, irritation and the cook, with his stupidly pretty blue eyes and soft looking hair and, and, and━

Zoro nearly resorts to just biting his hand, then, if only to get him to back the fuck off so he can get his own head on straight again, when Sanji finally drops the hand and moves away, leaving Zoro to slump over in a sudden wave of exhaustion and wariness. We should stay here for a bit, the cook says and there's nothing Zoro would like to do less in his current state, but from the commotion and tumult still going on outside, he recognizes there's little choice left.

" No. Just tired. Need time. " He replies curtly the the cook's question on whether or not he's hurt. He's not. Least not that he can feel. He just feels exhausted down to the very marrow of his bones, like he has no strength left; an exhaustion he hasn't felt since he was a boy, after his first few training sessions with Kuina, he reckons. Oh, and the pulsing ache in his shoulder that grows ever more sharp, but he already feels pathetic enough as it is without the cook's help. It can keep.

He casts a gaze around and sighs when he sees a dusty, unused couch pushed into a far corner, thinking he might as well collapse there rather than the damn floor.

There's a brief rumble of protest caught in his throat when the cook immediately closes the distance to help him, but ultimately Zoro lets him, even leaning some of his weight into Sanji's side, too tired even to bicker.

Fuck, what he wouldn't do for some booze. Even the cheap kind would do. " You got any way of contacting the others? "

[seasaltandsmoke]

The furrow of his brow doesn't ease, it even deepens when instead of voicing his protest he feels Zoro slump against him without more than a heavy breath. At the very least Sanji doesn't see or smell any blood on him and Zoro doesn't whince when he shifts one arm around his middle to keep him steady and help him walk over to the couch, so he takes that as a win.

Still, there is no question about whether or not something is wrong. Whatever the lady did, she sapped Zoro of his usual unwavering strength.

The realization settles like led in his gutt.

It's one thing when his convictions cause him to come to harm. It's his choice. He's prepared to die at the hands of a lady without touching so much as a hair on her head. He will never raise hand (or foot) against a woman.

But his crewmates know that, and sometimes... sometimes they do things like Zoro did earlier. Sometimes they throw themselves in harms way because they know, because they care.

Sanji would do the same, has done so multiple times and yet it never fsils to baffle him, never fails to tighten his throat and grit his teeth. He can't even truly be irritated with Zoro anymore, too in awe is he of the fact that the swordsman took this upon himself to spare Sanji from harm.

Lost in his thoughts for the duration of them trying to get Zoro settled, Sanji doesn't notice the way Zoro basically slips from his grasp, steps growing heavier. "Oi—" He almost snaps at him to at least make an effort to carry his own weight, but the moment he turns his head amd sees the pale nature of Zoro's skin he shuts his mouth and simply tightens his hold, sitting down with him in order to properly guide him down.

Concern bites at him, overshadows the twinge of annoyance when Zoro's head rolls weakly against his shoulder.

Sanji is busy adjusting his arm to better bear Zoro's weight when he asks his question and Sanji bites the inside of his cheek when he realizes that: no, he doesn't.

He shakes his head, his mind already working to find a solution to that particular problem. "We'll just have to wait this out and make our way to the ship later." and hope that the others already made it. He tries to not let the worry get to him, which isn't exactly made easier by the fact that Zoro grows ever more heavy against him.

Sanji bristles, tense and frustrated as he is, he can't deal with Zoro's lack of awareness for personal space on top of it all. However, another insult dies on his tongue the moment he turns his head to glare at the swordsman.

Is he... shivering? It's not even that cold around here.

"Hey, Zoro... Oi!" He brings up a hand to put it against Zoro's chest, searching his face. It shouldn't be possible, but in that moment Sanji can feel the coldness seep through Zoro's shirt and into his fingertips. His eyes widen. "Shit."

Without thinking further on the matter, Sanji maneuvers them so he can shrug his jacket off. "Normally, this service is reserved for all the beautiful ladies out there. So you better be grateful for this," he mutters as he drapes the piece of clothing around Zoro's shoulders, trying to distract himself from the fact that he's more than a little freaked out by seeing Zoro this weak.