#gomez.writing

[rose-stems]

pretty- like a doll

sanji x reader that wears frilly cute dresses but is a badass

“So pretty,” Sanji thought*, “like a little doll.”*

Those were the first thought’s Sanji ever had about you.

The first thing he noticed was your pretty pink dress, matching shades of white and pink fabric. Fit to match a ribbon in your hair, holding it in a hairstyle half up.

The next thing he noticed, was the way you walked. Feet pointed and graceful but with the excitement of a baby dear skipping around. You bounced up and down, hair and dress flowing perfectly with your movements.

He was so stunned from gazing at you that he stood completely still, hands full of the bread he was planning to drop off at that crews table.

The table you were walking to.

Oh.

Oh.

“Thank God.” Sanji thought helplessly,

There was a surging need to speak with you, one that Sanji had like no other. No one ever commanded his attention like you did and you hadn’t even spoken to him. He felt a bit pathetic, to be so deeply interested in you in only a matter of seconds.

His attention was quickly grabbed again when you politely turned to the green-haired man sitting on the far left. You opened your mouth—*those pretty, pretty lips—*to speak and his ears zeroed in on your voice, picking apart its soft undertones, distinguishing it from every other sound in the restaurant.

“Zoro,”—the green-haired man, Sanji assumes—”you didn’t wake me up.” You chastise him and Sanji feels himself be ripped apart at the seams.

The man replies but Sanji can’t make out his words. His ears are tuned to you and your sound only. The next sound you make is light and airy, a tiny giggle bubbles up and you tilt your head cutely. He wants to fall to his knees.

“C’mon, Zozo, don’t be like that.” You say and then wait, staring down at the man (because in this moment, you are taller.) and rocking slowly on the balls of your feet.

The man seems to pick up on the unsaid message and moves to stand up, grabbing his swords to help the process. You give him some space as he moves out and to the side and then cutely grab your dress, fabric lifting and exposing pearly white ruffles. You’re stunning, a picturesque form blessed by Aphrodite herself.

You sit down and take a few seconds to make yourself comfortable, letting the man wait until you’re ready—as he should. You adjust the fabric so when the man sits back down he doesn’t sit on it.

You face the green-haired man and your face lights up. It shines and your cheeks are full and pink as you smile brighter than the moon and her stars. Your gorgeous, beautiful, adorable, cute, you are so many things all at once and it hits Sanji harder than anything he’s ever seen.

“Thank you.” You say.

And his knees buckle, the feeling of weightlessness snaps Sanji to his senses. He’s been doing nothing but standing in the middle of the Baratie, staring at you like a creep.

He rushes to an isolated place, dropping the plate of bread on the counter of the bathroom. He steadies himself against the counter and tries to will his lungs to work.

Thoughts long forbidden rise up in his mind.

Thoughts no gentleman should ever have about a woman as cute as yourself.

About how he’d love to see your pretty face morph into something dirty and pleasure filled. How he would love to hear the different sounds you’d make. Would you squirm? Oh, god he hopes so-

He thinks about how fucking hot you looked as you confidently gazed at the green-haired man. Demanding and silent, waiting patiently to be treated like how you deserve. Commanding in a way so opposite of how you dressed, commanding in a subtle way, a petite way. But confident, oh so confident and strong and hot.

Fuck.

A stumbled out groan reaches up his throat before he forces it down, covering his mouth in shame.

“Get. It. Together.” He thinks, “You still need to go actually serve them.”

He still needs to serve you. Serve…you.

Yeah, he can do that.

He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. This is a staff bathroom, one which could be locked from the inside and he takes comfort in that. At least no one can come in and see how utterly pathetic he is over just seeing you. He hadn’t even spoken to you, but oh, he wanted to.

He turns the tap on and splashes some water on his face, the coolness helps him bring feeling back into his cheeks.

Feeling better—more focused and less likely to fall apart—Sanji picks up the bread and leaves the bathroom.

The first thing he does is head into the kitchens, dumping the bread onto a platter to reheat and quickly fixing up another appetizer. He doesn’t think about how he was banned from the kitchen and only hopes Zeff doesn’t walk in. Not that he’d truly regret it, you deserve a better appetizer for waiting so long. When he’d done he has two nice hot plates, the main appetizer and the reheated bread.

Before heading out of the kitchen he stops to gather himself. He feels a creeping sense of shame for how… how he froze. Yes, how he froze up. To serve yo… your table, he needs to at least have a sense of dignity.

How could he be a good server if he kept getting distracted by your beauty?

How could he sweep you off your feet if every time he looked at you the breath knocked out of him?

With a push of the door he went out into the floor. Eyes sweeping the room once before falling onto you, you were chatting animatedly with the green-haired man and a beautiful woman next to you. He almost felt bad about interrupting you. Almost.

“Hi, welcome to Baratie. My name is Sanji, what can I get for you?” He spoke slowly, casting a passing glance at those who sat at your table.

There was the green-haired man with three swords, Zoro, you called him, and a beautiful red-haired woman next to you. On the other side of the table, a little man with a straw hat in overalls and a young man wearing an open shirt.

The straw hat man was currently stuffing his face with bread.