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[softsanji]

cw hallucinations, brief description of violent imagery (torture)

They’re investigating a ruined dungeon when it happens.

The crew was separated after they came across some lone pirate who claimed to be an archaeologist, much to Robin’s amusement. He was trying to dig up some sort of relic that makes everyone who disturbed it “go mad,” supposedly. Though, the more they talked to him, it was clear that he was messing with things out of his depth, the surrounding ruins leaking with something sinister. And as the crazed man struck the wall with his pickaxe, the ground crumbled beneath them and swallowed them whole.

Which is how every Straw Hat found themselves stranded in a labyrinthian ruin.

Zoro’s not afraid, because he knows he can keep his senses about him.

More so than usual, the place is a goddamn maze and Zoro keeps hearing little sounds like the shift of blowing sand and water dripping somewhere that he can’t pinpoint. But no matter how loud he yells, he doesn’t hear a single one of his crewmates call back. He considered just smashing through the walls, but he recalls Robin emphasizing the flimsy structural integrity; one load-bearing wall could bury everyone, and Zoro doesn’t feel like digging that much.

So he stomps aimlessly through the quiet rubble, ducking through worn stone arches, listening for anything, any familiar voice that could lead him out.

“Help…”

Zoro freezes in his tracks. That was. A voice.

“H-Help…!”

Zoro clenches his jaw. He knew that voice. But at the same time he didn’t. That was the stupid cook’s voice. But it didn’t sound right.

It wasn’t right.

“S-somebody… please… I ca-can’t—”

Zoro starts to walk again. That couldn’t be the cook. It sounded exactly like him. No way was he mistaking that grating voice for someone else, it could only be him. But it didn’t sound any way the cook sounded like before. It must be a trick.

“An-Anyone… I’ll even take… th-the moss head at this point, haha…”

A pained gasp reverberates against the pathways, choking on something, and Zoro realizes he’s been holding his breath. It was a trap, that sounded like Curly, but it wasn’t. When the cook was down in a fight, he was either gritting his teeth to get back up, or he was out cold. He might yell out for backup if he was still standing and conscious, or grumble towards some unspoken agreement if he was back-to-back against Zoro. If he were really backed into a corner, maybe he’d scream angrily.

“Stupid… marimo…”

Zoro steps on something. A cigarette butt, he thinks. He doesn’t pause to check.

But the cook never begged for help. Never sounded so defeated and helpless, the calls Zoro heard just faint whispers against stone. This had to be an illusion, concocted by that sick bastard cloying through his mind for something that would distract him. An odd choice, surely one he’ll laugh about later to his crew once they find each other. He’ll laugh and tease the cook about begging him for help, another point for Zoro in their never-ending games.

“Z-Zoro…”

Except that Zoro can’t laugh right now. He has felt terrible agony. Imagined terrible scenarios. Yet he couldn’t fathom how a sound could fill him with such despair until right this very moment.

“Zoro..! Help, Zoro…!!”

A sob echoes through the halls and Zoro is running.

Something pulls at him, leading him where he needs to be, his feet carrying him so fast that his shoulders are checking chunks of stone out of entryways, and he can’t remember what Robin said about the structure of this place because his voice is calling to Zoro for help and Zoro needs it to stop.

In his mind flashes the scene of a bloodied cook being tortured, with blades stuck through his hands to keep him against the floor, with his legs snapped and sprawled beneath him, his spirit broken and begging for it to end, and Zoro knows this can’t be true, it’s all made up because Sanji is razor-sharp steel just like him, and there’s no way that could happen to him, he couldn’t let that happen to him, and as Zoro climbs steps towards a room with a light, he’s still holding his breath—

“MOSSHEAD, STOP!!!”

Fingernails dig into his arm as he’s pulled back, his leg hovering just shy of the last step.

He breathes. The fog clears. He stares at the ground in front of him. The stairwell he climbed dropped off into a deep, dark pit, several stories of floor collapsed a long time ago. The light he saw earlier was gone, the echoing voice quieted, and Zoro blinks away the memories as best he can. It takes a few moments to will himself to turn back to the hand on his bicep.

It’s Sanji.

It’s the cook. A little banged up, but no more than usual. He’s alive. He’s fine. And he’s staring at Zoro like he does when he’s half-dead in the infirmary.

“Idiot, you nearly fell to your early demise!!” He yells, finally releasing his grip on Zoro’s arm. He doesn’t mention how the cook was holding it so hard, there were red indents. “Even you couldn’t survive that fall, and I’m sure there are spikes at the bottom of that chasm! There’s some freaky shit going on in this place but I’ve found Chopper and—“

Zoro’s only half listening. It wasn’t real. He knows it wasn’t real. Knew it wasn’t. He was hearing things. He was right, it was a trick. He’s still gasping for air. And as Sanji opens his mouth to shoot a jab at him, he stops.

Zoro belatedly realizes that he grabbed Sanji’s hand at some point, thumb pressed into the palm like he’s searching for some give in his skin. A scar or wound that should be there, but isn’t. He waits for a kick that doesn’t come, his breath still uneven, and oh how he hates that. Hates his body losing control. He tries to take deep breaths, Sanji’s hand an anchor. And when he refocuses on Sanji’s face, it’s softened, brow furrowed in concern, not confusion.

He understood, somehow.

Zoro doesn’t let his grip up. Sanji doesn’t make him let go.

They don’t say anything as they start walking back together, their crewmates clearly unnerved by the sight when they reunite without a fight.

It’s only when they’re back on the Sunny, smoking and drinking by the railing under nightfall, that either of them speaks.

“What did you hear?” Sanji whispers, so quiet that Zoro nearly missed it. He could ignore it if he so chose, and the cook is fully aware.

Instead, he looks ahead, biting the inside of his cheek before replying. “What did you?”

He’s ready to be hit with a retort about dodging the question, but that doesn’t come either. The tension makes Zoro wish that Sanji would just hit him with a kick or a verbal jab. But instead, a sidelong glance spots Sanji twisting his cigarette in his mouth, thinking. Slowly, like trying not to spook a wild animal, he reached out to grab Zoro’s bicep, in nearly the exact same place he grabbed last time.

“Help.“

Zoro’s eye widens, Sanji slowly turning to meet his gaze.

“You were calling… for help.” He says, trying to keep his face level even as his voice cracks.

And Zoro wants to look away, to make a joke, throw a tease, say something, ANYTHING, to make the memories go away, to force himself to forget knowing exactly what Sanji heard, to chuck them out like a bottle to sea, to be found any other day than today.

But instead he nods, a mournful grimace creeping on his face.

“Yeah,” Zoro whispers, the quiet night stretching between them. The only sounds to be heard are the gentle shifts of Zoro’s hand over the cook’s, and the drip of Sanji’s tears against the Sunny railing.

[softsanji]

the sun prince

[softsanji]

[softsanji]

zoro in this 🫢

[softsanji]

[softsanji]

zoro tripped again

[softsanji]

“you shitty goddamn swordsman. you think i care if you don’t like my cooking? you think i care if you don’t like my cleanliness or my nagging or my pet peeves? you think i care if you don’t love me back?”

[softsanji]

omg my spotify wrapped is here

[softsanji]

[softsanji]

“w-who’s that hot guy”

“zoro that’s literally your boyfriend”

[softsanji]

“fuck you shit cook”

why does he let me get so fucking close?????

“fuck you shitty marimo”

i swear to god if he doesn’t kiss me

[softsanji]

i’m begging someone please draw this as zosan

[softsanji]

sunshine sunshine protector

[softsanji]

what if i let you in

and you finally see me…the way i see myself

[softsanji]

Forgetting Something?

It was one of those mornings where Zoro’s brain felt like sludge, moving through his routine in a haze of mechanical movements because he was far too sleepy for anything more than bare minimum effort. The timing of his alarm could not have been worse - he had been dreaming deeply (of what? He had no clue) and the abrasive beeping had dragged him out of it. He was definitely going to need to stop for coffee on his way to class.

As he opened the front door to leave, a familiar voice caught his attention: “Hey, moss-for-brains, you forgetting something?”

Zoro turned around to find Sanji peeking out from the kitchen with a smug smirk on his face. Ah, right, how could he forget to kiss his boyfriend goodbye? With a soft, sleepy smile, he doubled back. He reached up to cup Sanji’s cheek and leaned in to peck him on the lips.

Sanji’s cheeks went pink, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“I… uhm… I m-meant these,” he stammered, holding up Zoro’s keys.

Why did he look so embarrassed?

The gears in Zoro’s head started to come unstuck and clicked once, twice, three times.

Oh, shit.

So, that’s what he had been dreaming about.

In the waking world, Sanji was not, in fact, his boyfriend. He was his pain-in-the-ass roommate who, yes, Zoro had a massive crush on but, no, did not reciprocate it (well, at least as far as Zoro could tell). Zoro felt heat creep up his face and his mouth go dry. When he replayed this scene later in his head, he imagined he must have looked like some sort of tropical fish, bright red and mouth opening and closing uselessly as he floundered for words.

“Uh… I… I’msorrythanksbye!”

He plucked the keys out of Sanji’s hand and hightailed it out the door.

He couldn’t concentrate on anything in class that day. All three lectures went in one ear and out the other. He didn’t know if he was upset or relieved that Sanji didn’t text or call. Was he going to have to move out? Christ, could he even afford that right now?

Unfortunately, the will of the universe seemed to be conspiring against him because he has a paper due tomorrow and his laptop was in his room. He’ll just have to cross his fingers and hope Sanji had gone out or is in his room. As he approaches the landing of their floor, Zoro smells baked goods. Oh, this is not good. Sanji was stress-baking.

When he enters their apartment, he spies a couple cooling racks set up on their coffee table. Sanji has already covered every surface in the kitchen - counters, the table, the collapsible baker’s rack he had bought for these occasions. This was bad.

He would have to pass the kitchen in order to get to his room. Maybe if he was quick enough, Sanji wouldn’t even notice him.

Okay, 3… 2…

And then Sanji steps out of the kitchen.

Well, so much for that plan.

“Oh, uh… hey,” Sanji says, not meeting Zoro’s eye.

“Hi,” Zoro replies. He’s suddenly not sure what to do with his hands, for some reason. He settles on shoving them in his pockets.

There’s an awkward silence before Sanji blurts out: “I made the matcha cookies you like!”

Zoro’s face flushes and he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Oh! Uhm… thanks!”

Silence again.

“I’m gonna…” Zoro awkwardly points over Sanji’s shoulder towards their rooms. “I have a paper to write.”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.”

Sanji shuffles out of his way, back into the kitchen.

This is awful.

Zoro stalks down the hall to his room. He tries to focus on his paper, but mostly he just stares blankly at his laptop screen, trying to think of what he should do about this mess. Luffy would probably let him sleep on his couch for as long as he wanted to, right?

He’s dragged out of his head when there’s a knock on his door. Well, there’s only one person that could be. He steels himself and gets up to answer it.

Sanji’s apron is covered in flour. He’s got a smudge of chocolate on his cheek (Zoro tries really hard not to think about how cute that is). By Sanji’s own standards he’s a bit of a mess right now.

“I want a do-over,” he demands.

What?

“A… do-over?” Zoro echoes.

“Yeah,” Sanji insists. “I want a better kiss than that pathetic little peck from this morning.”

Zoro’s head is swimming. He can’t mean that, can he?

“So?” Sanji goads him, leaning in to the idea so he doesn’t lose his nerve. “Earth to mosshead!”

Zoro shakes himself out of his stupor. As hard as this is to believe, he is not going to miss out on this. Nervously, he steps forward and lifts one hand to caress Sanji’s jaw while the other comes to rest on Sanji’s hip.

The kiss that Sanji will come to tell everyone was their “real first kiss ‘cause that first one was bullshit” is soft, a little tentative, warm, and tastes like sugar and spices from all the baked goods Sanji had been sampling that day. When they part, Zoro gives Sanji a lopsided grin and asks, “Better, curly?”

“Yeah,” Sanji replies, a little breathless.

“Sanji, I—“

“You’ve got a paper to write, yeah?” Sanji interrupts him. “You should finish it. I’ll clean up, get dinner started. And then we can, uh… we can talk. About this. Okay?”

“Okay,” Zoro agrees. Sanji leans in for one more kiss before turning to head back to the kitchen.

Zoro has never written a paper so fast in his entire academic career.

[softsanji]

“you’re hurt”

“i’m better now”

post-battle makeouts 💘

[softsanji]

i won’t …

… let anyone else have you.