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youremyonepiece · 2 months

Text

salty afflictions

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), reader's pov

your powers come with unique dietary restrictions, but sanji's not one to back down from a challenge (especially not if it's you).

warnings: none, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 1.9k

"okay," sanji says, tone verging on exasperation, "let me get this straight." he peers at you through his furrowed curly eyebrows, but there is no malice in his stare-- only disbelief. "you can't eat salt?"

you laugh uncomfortably at the question. the rest of the straw hats have their eyes fixed on you as well, waiting earnestly for your answer. most of their plates lie forgotten in front of them; only luffy is moving, shoveling food into his mouth with both hands, but he too is staring directly at you. sanji is standing in front of you, a matching plate balancing on one of his hands. your own grip tightens around your carrot as you shift and shrink under the weight of everyone's combined gazes before taking a small chomp to hopefully diffuse some of the tension.

it doesn't work.

it makes things worse.

the carrot feels like dry mulch as you chew and swallow it loudly. everyone else simply continues to stare, the moment dragging on as they wait for you to respond.

you let out another uncomfortable laugh once your mouth is empty before clearing your throat. "um, yeah," you finally manage to say. you resist the urge to slam your head into the dinner table at your eloquence and continue, "the salt content in my body would get too high. i'd be no different than a puddle of sea water. which would, um-- which would be bad."

you can't stop another laugh from defensively bubbling through your lips. sanji notices and moves away to put your plate in front of luffy (with him around, no food would ever go to waste). "well," he says, pointedly nonchalant as he takes his seat and leans back to take a drag from his cigarette. "i love a good challenge, and you certainly are a lovely one." a smirk forms around his cigarette and just like that, the tension in the room shatters. you throw a grateful look in his direction as the crew's attention turns away from you and back to their dinners.

"typical sanji," usopp says with a playful roll of his eyes before shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth. "still, that must suck."

"yeah," you say in response. "i mean, i'm used to it, but i definitely miss some foods. it saved my life, though," you say with a shrug, "so it is what it is." you take another bite of your carrot, larger than the last in hopes of deterring anyone from asking you any more questions.

you feel someone's eyes on you again and turn your head to see sanji staring at you. there's still a smile on his face and in his eyes-- you can't help but hold your breath as you meet his gaze. he's looking at you as though he’s just discovered a new type of fish, you think to yourself. like he can't wait to experiment and discover the best ways to filet, bake, fry you up.

unlike with the others, being under sanji’s gaze doesn’t make you squirm in your seat. instead, you find yourself feeling comfortably warm-- you’re always comfortable with sanji. he’s been nothing but considerate and thoughtful from the start, and you knew he would never do anything to hurt you.

well, he would never do anything to hurt any woman, not just you.

you ignore the turning of your stomach-- get real, he would never feel the same way about you-- and instead avert your eyes to take great interest in your carrot. wow, it sure is orange--

"you'll have to allow me to borrow some of your time later, sweetheart," sanji says, interrupting your riveting thoughts. "we'll figure out what i can cook for you. can't have you going hungry, now can we?" he winks at you and you feel the heat creep up your neck and into your cheeks.

“um-- sure,” you say, and you're sure your face is bright red. gosh, did you have to be so awkward?

to your relief, though, franky starts talking excitedly about his ideas for new upgrades on the sunny, and with that the flow of the conversation is thankfully diverted away from you and the side effects of your hydro-hydro logia devil fruit. you finish your carrot as quickly as you can before quietly excusing yourself from the group and scurrying out onto the deck.

and though you don’t dare look up to confirm it, you swear you feel sanji’s eyes on you the entire time until you’ve left the room. but no-- there’s no way. you’re imagining it, letting your fantasies get the better of you. he wouldn’t have watched you leave, not when nami and robin were still in the room with him.

(if you had looked up, though, you would have found you were right.)

you’re sitting on a bench by nami’s tangerine trees the next morning after breakfast, absentmindedly flipping through a novel you borrowed from robin. it’s an unusually calm, placid day, the weather perfect and the soft breeze refreshing. the kind of day you want to spend outside and doing nothing. it’s easy to zone out the various noises from your crewmates: luffy’s joyful yelling followed closely by chopper’s worried shouts, zoro’s rumbling snores, nami’s playful teasing at usopp’s desperate rambling, sanji’s... footsteps?

you look up from the book to find the blond man walking calmly towards you with his blazer slung over his shoulder, an easy smile gracing his lips. it grows as your eyes meet, but he doesn’t speak until he comes to a stop a few feet away from you. “hello, gorgeous. got a minute? i wanted to get your thoughts on a few dishes i whipped up earlier for you.”

be cool, you tell yourself. be calm, casual-- “yeah, of course! i’d love to!” great job.

but you can’t feel upset for too long, not when sanji’s face lights up at your response. not when he’s holding a hand out for you to take. your cheeks grow warm (surprise, surprise) as you pause, taking in the sight of the kind man in front of you and his breathtaking smile, before reaching out to take his hand.

you’re hyper-aware of his fingers against yours as he gently guides you to the kitchen and can’t help the wave of disappointment that washes over you when he pulls away to drape his jacket over a bar chair and roll up his shirt sleeves. he motions you over to the table before turning away to grab a couple plates from the kitchen counter.

“so,” he begins as he places various dishes in front of you, “i normally use salt in just about every dish i make. it’s a flavor enhancer-- without it, most foods would taste flat and bland.” he places the last dish in front of you before straightening and flashing one of his brilliant smiles at you. (if you were in a cartoon, your heart would have just doki-doki-ed out of your chest.) “but there’s other ways to bring flavor into food, and there’s beauty in simple foods, too.”

you take in the various foods in front of you; each plate contains no more than maybe five spoonfuls of food, but there are so many. salads and soups and stews and snacks-- so many foods you hadn’t eaten since getting your powers. sanji pushes one of the plates closer to you-- a colorful pile of leafy greens and veggies, topped with what looks like olive oil and a freshly squeezed lemon wedge-- and takes the seat across from you. “salads, of course, are an easy answer. the best salads use fresh vegetables and high quality oil, and as long as you balance the flavors well, you won’t even miss the saltier ingredients like cheese.”

intrigued, you bring a forkful to your mouth, and-- wow. you never had been a huge fan of salads, especially since they now consisted of the majority of your meals, but this is easily the best salad you’ve ever had. you clean the plate within a couple seconds, much to sanji’s apparent delight.

and so he continues, explaining his reasoning behind each dish and watching intently as you practically inhale the food. “sanji,” you say in between dishes after what must have been over half an hour of food tasting, “this is amazing. i don’t think i’ve had food that tastes this good ever-- not even before i ate my devil fruit. i can’t believe you did all this for me.”

it’s his turn to blush at your words, and for some reason his bashfulness makes you feel embarrassed as well. you shut your mouth and look back down at the plate in front of you: cauliflower chunks he had coated in a spiced batter before frying and coating in a sauce made from nami’s tangerines. it’s true, though-- every single dish you had tasted had been phenomenal, so clearly made with kindness. you had resigned yourself to eating raw veggies for the rest of your life, and the fact that sanji had come up with a whole slew of meals that you could eat despite your power-induced diet, that too within a day of learning about it... no one had ever done something so thoughtful for you before.

your thoughts are interrupted by an unexpectedly acrid scent-- is something... burning? you look up from the plate, frowning, and almost immediately spot the smoking pan on the stove. “sanji! the pan!”

sanji, who had been staring at you with a dazed look in his eyes, seems to come to his senses with a few blinks. he glances backwards towards the stove and does a double-take in shock before leaping to his feet and rushing over to the burning pan. “merde! so sorry, love-- i must have forgotten to turn it off-- i was so excited to see your reaction--” he hisses suddenly, pulling his hand back with a jerk.

“sanji! did you burn yourself?” you’re on your feet, too, reaching his side within a blink of an eye. you take his hand in yours without hesitation, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“darling, you should stay back, the fire--”

within seconds, you’ve doused the stove in water using your free hand. you then turn your eyes back to sanji’s burn, frowning in concentration as you coat the reddening skin with your cold water. “it doesn’t look too bad,” you murmur, eyes locked on his wound, “but you should still have chopper check it out.”

“will do,” he responds softly, and you freeze-- his voice is so close. you were so close.

you look up, throat dry as you meet his eyes. you feel your cheeks heat up yet again, but you can’t bring yourself to step away-- you can’t bring yourself to move. “you should--” you stop to clear your throat-- “you should be more careful.”

“i always am, but something about you makes me forget where i am.” he must see the question in your eyes, because he quickly adds, “in a good way, of course.”

“yeah, um-- same,” you say intelligently.

he laughs at your response, eyes full of affection as they remain on you. “c’mon,” he says, softly tapping your cheek with his uninjured hand before stepping slightly away from you, “we still have a few dishes to go.”

gosh, you think, stunned in place as you watch him move back towards the table. this man is truly going to be the death of you.

#one piece #sanji x you #sanji x reader #sanji fanfic #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #if i had a nickel for every sanji fic i wrote where sanji takes you to the kitchen to eat his food #id have two nickels #which isnt a lot but its weird that its happened twice #i have so so many fics that are 80 to 90 percent done #hopefully there'll be a lot of posts coming soon 🤞🏽#my writing #youremyonepiece

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skyward-floored · 1 month

Note

Imagine if at some point after finding out about his true heritage HDW Wars gets sick but with every sneeze he accidentally sneezes fire and no one can figure out how to stop it.

So I don't know if I want this to be how Zelda actually finds out but I couldn't resist writing this—

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"No no, seriously, don't go in there!" Mask says with an increasing amount of panic, moving to block Zelda's path to Link's tent. "He's like, uh, he's really sick! Like, like throwing up and coughing and sneezing on everything, it's super gross! You don't want to go in there!"

Zelda raises an eyebrow.

“Mask, I'm more then well-aquainted with 'super gross sickness', as you put it. It’ll take more then that to stop me from visiting Link.”

“But... you might get sick!” Mask quickly argues, and Zelda considers for a moment. Then she continues forward.

“That’s true. But I doubt five minutes to wish Link well and check up on him will hurt anything."

"W-well, he," Mask splutters as Zelda strides past, "he, he doesn't want to see you!"

"Oh, is that so?" Zelda asks a tad mischeviously. "Funny, a minute ago you said Proxi was busy and that Link was so sick he could barely speak. How is it that you know what he wants?"

"Uh... that was before he couldn't speak," Mask quickly adds, but Zelda merely strides around him, nearly to the entrance of Link's tent. "Wait wait wait!"

Zelda pauses with her hand on the flap, looking down at Mask, who's still trying to block her while sporting a very odd expression on his face.

"...Is anything I say going to keep you out?" he asks, sounding like he already knows the answer.

"I'm afraid not."

Mask grimaces.

"Well... alright. If he asks, tell him I tried, and don't say I didn't warn you," he mutters, and steps aside. "You might wanna watch your hair."

Zelda raises an eyebrow, but Mask doesn't elaborate, and she enters the tent.

The first thing she notices is the smell of smoke in the air, just thick enough to be noticeable upon entering. The small lantern lit on the table doesn’t seem big enough to make the tent smell as smoky as it does, but nothing else seems to be on fire, and her attention is quickly drawn to the cot in the corner.

Link looks miserable, curled up under a thin blanket, dressed in only his undertunic and pants, and shivering hard enough that Zelda can see it from where she stands. Tune is sitting next to him with a bucket at his feet, and the sailor looks just as worried as she feels.

Tune looks up as she walks in, startles, then turns a glare on Mask.

"Mask, you—"

"I know, I know. Look she has to find out eventually, why not now?" Mask huffs, crossing his arms.

"He didn't want her to find out like this, he wanted to actually tell her," Tune hisses, and Mask has the decency to look a bit guilty.

"Have me find out what, exactly?" Zelda interrupts, and Tune and Mask both look at her, strange expressions on their faces. Neither of them gets a chance to speak though, as Link suddenly groans, and screws his face up.

“...Uh oh.”

"Hit the deck!" Mask yelps, and Zelda has just enough time to wonder what in the name of the goddesses is going on before Link lets out a loud sneezing cough.

Which sends a small burst of flame straight across the tent.

Zelda jumps back in surprise, and Tune quickly grabs the bucket at his feet and splashes water on the part of her skirts that ended up catching the edge of Link’s flames.

Smoke drifts from Zelda's now-doused skirt, and Link groans, Tune gently patting him on the head.

Zelda stares.

“How on earth..?” she breathes, and Tune and Mask look up at her, then at each other. “Is he all right? Is this a curse? How is it that he’s breathing fire?”

“Sneezing fire, technically,” Mask corrects, and Tune elbows him.

“Look, it’s... it's a little hard to explain,” Tune says carefully, and Zelda crosses her arms, suspicions suddenly raised.

“Was this one of you two’s faults?”

“No! Of course not! Look, it’s just...” Tune says, obviously struggling, and Mask sighs and gestures to Link.

“Turns out his dad is Volga,” he says simply.

Zelda blinks.

“Link’s... father. Is Volga. The dragon knight.”

Mask and Tune nod.

“That’s the one,” Mask says.

A lot of odd things that’ve happened in the past month suddenly add up in Zelda's head, strange looks, awkward avoidances, the uncertain glint that sometimes appears in Link's eyes. Zelda had assumed most of that was because of her hiding Sheik's identity (and she does still feel guilty about that), but Volga being Link's father...

Zelda’s head spins, but she doesn’t have time to ask further questions, as Link drags his eyes open with a groan.

“Captain?” Tune asks, and Link looks at him, face haggard with exhaustion. His gaze drifts around the tent, pausing on Mask for a moment, then drifting past him and settling on Zelda. Link stares at her, startles, then pushes himself upward, raising a hand in a shaky salute before Mask shoves him back down.

“Your Highness,” he croaks, and Zelda winces at how painful his voice sounds.

“At ease Link, you don’t need to treat me like that,” she assures, almost wishing she was still in disguise as Sheik. Link was never so concerned with protocol around her then. “Especially not while you’re sick.”

“‘S just a cough,” he rasps, and Tune sighs.

“Yeah, a cough that’s making you sneeze fire. Not exactly ‘just’ a cough.”

Link hums in a croaky way, then he startles as he realizes just what Tune has said, and looks at Zelda. Blue eyes meet blue, and Zelda can practically see the thoughts running rampant through Link's head.

"Y-your Highness, I'm—"

"Link," Zelda interrupts, her voice gentle. "Tune and Mask already told me. You don't need to hide it."

She sees him swallow, and Tune pushes his head back down to his pillow, a little frown appearing on his face when Link barely resists.

"So you... know," Link whispers, closing his eyes with a small cough. The action sends some smoke puffing from his lips. "My father's... Volga."

"Yes," Zelda replies, the shock beginning to fade, but still present.

There's always been something a little different about Link, something that set him apart from the other soldiers. Zelda had always thought it was more due to being the Hero, or the piece of Triforce he held, not... being related to a dragon.

She brushes her thoughts aside. "I apologize. Mask did his best to keep me out."

"She's too stubborn," Mask huffs, crossing his arms.

Tune's face hitches up in a smile. "Zeldas always are."

Link looks slightly more at ease, but still uncertain, and his eyes drag open again, circles dark beneath them.

"Princess," he begins in a rasp, "I know... it isn't much, but I promise you I am loyal to the crown. Volga is still my enemy. I wasn't a... aware of his relation to me until very... recently."

"Link, I didn't come in here to question your loyalties," Zelda says, pulling a chair over and sitting by his bed. "And I'm not in the practice of judging others on the actions of their parents. I heard you were ill, and came to see how you were doing."

Link blinks at her, and Zelda reaches a cautious hand out to feel his forehead, wincing at the heat radiating off of it.

"You have quite the fever," she says as she looks over at Tune, and he nods, eyebrows pinching together in worry.

"I know. We're not really sure what to do for him. We were just treating it normally, but then he started the fire thing..." he trails off, and scratches the back of his neck.

"Impa's getting a book that has some information on dragons in it though, she's hoping it'll help," Mask adds, and Zelda hums, pulling her hand back from Link’s forehead. She’d wondered where Impa had gone off to.

"I take it she's aware of this information too then?"

Something flickers in Tune's gaze. "She is."

Link screws his face up again, and Zelda dodges the flames that come out when he sneezes this time, Mask splashing some water on the corner of the tent the flames try to lick at.

“Uh... I’ll get more water,” he says as he looks down at the empty bucket, and slips out of the tent. Zelda is left alone with Tune and Link, and Tune sighs, brushing some of Link’s hair out of his face.

Zelda watches them in silence for a moment, Link’s raspy breathing the only sound in the tent.

“I hate to pry, especially while you’re sick, Link, but... when did you learn of your father?” Zelda finally asks, voice soft. “You said it was recently. Did Volga tell you?”

“No. It was before Cia split time,” he whispers. “That day she ended up... talking to me alone. She told me about Volga.”

Anger on Link’s behalf rises up in Zelda as he coughs again, from ending up alone with their enemy, from hearing such sensitive information from Cia of all people, from becoming such a major player in this war at all... but she tampers it down, and meets his eyes, dull with sickness.

“I’m sorry,” Zelda says quietly.

Link lets out a raspy sigh, and closes his eyes again. “I’ve had some time to... come to terms with it.”

He lets out another abrupt sneeze, flames shooting across the tent, and another several accompany it, the fire brighter each time. Zelda leaps to her feet, but before the flames can cause any damage, Tune whips out the wind waker and blows them all out.

The sneezes seems to have taken what’s left of Link’s strength, and he curls up again, looking exhausted as Tune lets out a sigh of relief. The younger hero pulls the blanket over Link’s shoulders as he tucks the wind waker back in his pocket, and then he smiles a little apologetically at Zelda.

“I think he could use some more rest,” he says, and Zelda nods, dusting some ashes off her skirts. She’s likely going to smell of smoke for a while.

“Of course. I need to be on my way anyway,” she sighs, not looking forward to going back to her maps and strategies.

Zelda looks down at Link, eyes closed in exhaustion, shoulders faintly shivering, the smell of smoke and sickness about him, and she swallows.

“I hope you feel better soon, Link.”

“Thank you your highness,” Link whispers in response, and sighs, seeming to fall asleep moments later.

“...he’s quite sick, isn’t he?” Zelda says once she’s sure he’s asleep.

“He could be worse, but... yeah,” Tune says quietly, then smiles at her. “But Impa will be back later, and I bet she’ll have some information for us. Link’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure he will. He’s terribly resilient,” Zelda says with a small smile of her own. “Thank you for looking after him.”

Tune shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta stop him from setting the whole camp on fire.”

Zelda can’t help her chuckle at that, and Tune lets out a laugh of his own as he walks her out, pausing at the tent flap.

“Princess... would you keep all of this to yourself?” Tune asks her, a strange expression flitting across his face. “Link’s still struggling with it, and if the rest of the army knew...”

“I won’t say a word,” Zelda promises, and Tune relaxes a hair. “Only to Impa, or you and Mask.”

“Thank you,” Tune says gratefully.

Zelda takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’re welcome, Tune. I’ll try and come back once Impa returns, maybe we can all discuss this together.”

Tune’s eyes do something funny again at the mention of Impa. “Maybe. See you, Zelda.”

Zelda says goodbye in return, and Tune slips back inside the tent, a puff of ash accompanying him.

She stands there for a few moments longer, thinking about Link and Volga, and Impa a little as well. She’s curious about what this all means for Link, being part dragon (whole dragon?), and what he’s doubtlessly been going through since he found out.

She wonders how Impa found out about all of this as well. Did Link tell her? Or Tune perhaps? Was Link concerned about what him being related to their enemy would mean? And how long has Impa known of the identity of Link’s father?

Zelda shakes her head, scattering her thoughts, and begins the walk back to her tent.

“So many questions,” she sighs to herself, and rubs some more ashes from her skirts.

As if this war weren’t already complicated enough.

#if i had a nickel for every fic ive written where there was a sick character with fire powers id have two nickels #which isnt a lot but weird its happened twice #hyrule warriors #hdw au #legend of zelda #fic #and slightly hinted at:#hw zelink #answers from the floor #lovely hybinger nova #writing from the floor #Zelda: Impa how come you knew about Link’s father anyway #impa: *sweating* well. um. you see.#impa: it’s a Sheikah’s job to know everything

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