Have you ever wanted to enter the one piece world? Maybe you want to be friends with the strawhats, or the heart pirates? Perhaps you'd rather be dating one of them, or all of them!! Here you can do that, feel free to send in requests in my request...
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A/N: Well, I hate it, I'm so sorry, but I don't think I can do better so, uh.. yeah enjoy??
The atmosphere at the Baratie had changed. It wasn't immediate, and it wasn't obvious, but Sanji could feel it. Maybe it started with Zeff, maybe with the other chefs, but the conversations had shifted.
Before, when Luffy had asked Sanji to join his crew, the Baratie staff had just rolled their eyes or laughed it off. Now? They weren't laughing anymore.
"Kid, you're wasting yourself here" Patty said one night, leaning against the counter while Sanji plated a dish. Sanji had waved him off with a scoff, but the words stuck.
A few days later, Carne chimed in, shaking his head as he watched Sanji perfectly dice a fresh onion in seconds. "Do us a favour and get out of here, will ya".
Then there was Zeff. Unlike the others, he hadn't said much, yet. Zeff hadn't pushed Sanji to leave, he didnt throw insults his way, like the others had.
Instead, his words were simple, cutting in their directness. "You've outgrown this place". It was true. Sanji knew it.
He was restless, itching for something more, something bigger than waiting tables and serving drunk pirates, but hearing it, feeling like the people he had settled in with were pushing him away, hit something raw inside of him. If they wanted him gone, then... What about you?
Sanji started withdrawing. He smoked more. Talked less. His usual charm and flirtatious energy dimmed, replaced by tension in his shoulders, a weight in his chest he didn't know how to shake.
You noticed. Of course, you noticed. At first, you didn't push. You just watched, waiting for him to talk to you, waiting for him to be Sanji again.
But as time passed, and his usual late night conversations, soft smiles, and playful remarks dwindled, your patience wore thin, and then, one night, you found him gripping the railing tightly, staring out at the ocean.
The deck was quiet, the waves gentle against the wooden hull of the floating restaurant. Sanji was standing there, knuckles white against the railing, staring hard at the water below.
Smoking. Again. You had stopped keeping track of how many cigarettes he was going through in a day.
You didn't say anything at first. You just walked up beside him, leaning your arms against the railing. Sanji exhaled a slow breath of smoke, not acknowledging you immediately.
"Would you be fine if I left?" His voice was quiet. Careful. Like he wasn't even sure if he wanted the answer. You frowned, turning to look at him, but his eyes stayed fixed on the horizon.
You weren't stupid. You had spent some time now by his side, learning the way his mind worked, the way he processed things he didn't want to talk about. So you saw right through him.
