Sanji x !Fem!Reader, fluff, crack, swearing, bubbly clumsy reader, cuteness aggression, one-shot
You check out what Sanji’s making and get a little too curious…
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You glided down the hall, hopping down the stairs as you excitedly made your way to the kitchen. You were eager to tell the cook you’d caught a fish. Or—well, somewhat, it was a flounder of the sorts, a mixed half-seabeast that left the scaredy cat trio utterly petrified.
Regardless, it’d been a fight to reel in, but thanks to the boys it hadn’t been too much of an issue—to you at-least. Your pole had been the lucky one, and you’d gladly handed it over to Luffy who’d been happy to eat it.
The sea-beast was large, large enough to keep a steady food supply for a week—that is if the captain didn’t eat it.
Swiftly passing the kitchen doors, a heavenly smell drafted through. Something similar to curry, maybe with peppers, left a comforting sense to your nose along with the herbs. You smiled, swinging yourself around the service hatch.
“Sanji! Guess what I caught,” you pipped, hanging on the corner.
“Hm? What’d you catch love?” his tone was gentle, using something he only used for you.
Sanji’s back was turned, and you couldn’t help but notice how nice his tux carved to his shoulders. His sleeves were rolled, accentuating his fore-arms that left your mouth watering.
Gosh, he could be so clueless. Or he couldn’t. You could never tell with him, from teasing to showing off to acting oblivious and naive he was a mix of the three.
“I have no idea,” you muttered, coming up behind him. Along the counter, your attention drifted to the organized ingredients he’d aligned in black and white bowls.
“It’s big and scaly though,” you shifted a bowl to check its contents, curious to what it was. “I’ve never seen anything like it, it’s weird. It has whiskers like a cat—but it looks like a pufferfish mixed with a halibut.”
He hummed softly in response.
“Oh, and it was really snappy too. You shoulda’ seen Usopp, he was terrified,” you laughed, leaning over to smell some of them. Your nose was immediately assaulted with spice and warmth, and you careened back.
Sanji nodded, listening with a smile. Your laughter was music to his ears, and he’d wished he could replay it over and over.
“Big and scaly? Did you catch a sea king?”
“No, I don’t think so, Robin said it’s high in protein though. She even pulled out a fancy fish-log to make sure.”
“Hm, well that sounds promising, good job Love we needed that,” he praised, stirring a pot he’d only break out for stews and curries.
The acknowledgment flew over your head as you sniffed a bowl’s contents, grown oblivious to the use of his affectionate tones. He threw love and praises like a child blowing dandelion seeds, leaving fluttering white fuzzlies of positivity you’d sprout from.
“Thank you,” you chirped, popping carelessly beside him.
“Zoro’s cutting it down for us now actually, so you don’t have to. I figured you were busy making something,” you jumped, leaning into his side, creeping slowly to check the food you so craved. You always knew it’d look good, but that didn’t change the fact you still wanted to see it.
The steam hit you like a burning fog, making your eyes water.
“Finally, moss-head’s actually pulling his weight,” he snarked, hovering his hand to quickly shield your face.
“Careful it’s hot sweetheart.”
“Yeah I know, it just smells good.” you shrugged, wandering back over to the small dishes.
The mindless compliment sent his heart racing, and his eyes turned to hearts. “Why thank you my Angel, you’re too kind.” He swirled, mixing the turmeric colored dish.
“Of course,” you muttered, sniffing a spoon of something you expected to be sweet, but it stung, yet again leaving your eyes to water.
You dropped the spoon, leaning back, coughing slightly.
“Phew, the fuck is that?”
“Oh? Those are the chillies,” he laughed, adding some cloves to the pot, keeping casual in your presence. You joined often in the kitchen, appearing time and time again and it’d just become a norm between you too. He watched as you inspected, he told, and you helped. It was a sweet balance, teetering on the edge of chaos with your clumsiness. Rather blunt recklessness in his opinion. But he’d loved you the same.
He found it endearing.
Though, this time you’d inspected a bowl of something sweet. Stark contrast to chilies and cayenne peppers from before, you simply wanted to taste. And the thought had been to quick to stop.
Your eyes wandered, purely drawn to Sanji’s fluent skills. Chopping vegetables and chicken so perfectly, it put his knives to shame.
You’d ironically been mesmerized, due to the fact he was so slim and tall, manly, and the literally epitome of a gentleman. Yet he worked with knives and food like a ballerina to her shoes.
Lost in the maze of your admiration, you’d mindlessly put a bit too much on the spoon to try, and the bitterness hit hard. You hadn’t paid attention, and now you payed the price.
A muffled cough sounded throughout the kitchen, and a hand flew to cover it, but it was too late. Your eyes watered and you immedialty regretted the impulsive decision.
Poofft . . .
Sanji paused. His cutting slowed, and he’d gently placed the knife down to wipe his hands. Maybe you’d sniffed the wrong bowl again? He thought, slowly turning around. But gods was he wrong.
Oh. Oh. Okay.
There was cinnamon everywhere. A clouded dust of brown had covered the counter, and he couldn’t even see your face. Had you—?
He urgently called your name, keeping ease.
“Mon Amour? Are you—is that the cinnamon?!”
He rushed to your side, eyes filled with concern as he finally met your teary ones. You turned to him in a coughing fit, splashing cinnamon painfully after. You owlishly blinked up at him, and his heart exploded at the sight.
His instincts told him to not make fun, but a light-hearted laugh escaped him before he’d grabbed a dampened towel for you.
His arms tenderly outstretched, wiping your face, chuckling, “Sweetheart what’d you even do?” he chided, sweeping his thumb over your chin.
“I didn’t mean’thu, I thought it—pff—“ another rasp of cinnamon launched between you, and you coughed. And he only laughed more.
Which turned to contagious giggles.
Sanji gingerly held your face, bringing your hand which held a cloth—close to your face.
He was truly your savior. Because you urgently spit it out, wincing.
“____, hun, here, there you go.” he said, pushing your brown tinged hair out of your face.
“Sorry,” you finally mumbled, surrendering in complete defeat and humiliation.
“I thought it was, I don’t know, like, edible—“
“It’s okay, you were just curious…though why you thought eating a spoonful of cinnamon was a good idea? I will never know,” he mused, looking quietly down to you. His thumb caressed your cheek and he fawned again. He squeezed your cheeks, and he was gone.
You looked absolutely adorable like this, and your perfume? Now infused with the spice? Did wonders.
This had to be what cuteness aggression was. Otherwise he wouldn’t be squeezing you so tight.
“Sanji let me go,” you muttered, struggling in the tight clasp of his hug. He only mumbled something whiny and incoherent in your ear, and your face felt like the burner of the stove.
“Just let me hold you, you’re too cute.”
You blushed, grumbling. What got slipped in his breakfast this morning? You rested your head on his shoulder and he tightened his grip, twirling you around.
You relaxed, giving into his affection. But smoke caught your glimpse.
“Uh, baby—“
“No. Let me hug you.”
“No you—Sanji!” You groaned, “The foods burning!”