Zoro proves he can be all philosophical . . . and stuff.

You know, I seem to be obessed with snow lately. Snow and bloody Zoro. (but who doesn't love a bloody Zoro? XD) And this ficlet, by the way, wrote itself. Doncha just hate it when that happens? The plot bunny (a distant relative) just popped up and I ran with it. And when I stopped running... I was lost.... *shrug* oh well.

In a world where Zoro isn't even a person any more can he ever be free or manage to do anything more than just survive? He should have known that he'd be bought eventually but this... isn't what he'd expected. Zosan, updated weekly. All comments, thoughts and wild-mass-guessings welcome!

In a world where everyone has a mark to identify their soulmate, Luffy is born without one. But that’s okay, because the future Pirate King doesn’t have time for boring mushy romance. His nakama, however, are another story.

He knows that it's probably unhealthy to hate follow people on tumblr but THIS GUY, this fucking guy... he's just too much.

If Zoro had the conscience to do anything but pant hotly and swallow moans, he might have laughed at the smear of cream on the cook’s nose.

No one ever said that pirates fight fair, but if someone bites you in a fight then it's perfectly reasonable to bite them back. Sanji has to learn that life isn't fair and nothing else is either but that bad jokes and falling in love certainly makes unlife worth living. Zosan/Sanzo tw:blood and blood drinking

Sanji doesn't think much will come out of his one-sided crush on the green-haired tiger. After all, he's only seen him a handful of times. At least, until they become roommates.

The sign, standing unassuming outside the Grand Line Coffee Shop in a handwriting Sanji recognizes as Usopp’s, says: TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS: 1. Hella fucking gay. 2. Desperately single. FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I’D RECOMMEND: You give me your number. Or, the one coffee shop au where Usopp pulls a prank, Sanji is unexpectedly (read: completely unexpected to him and only him) popular among the male population of their campus, and Zoro just wants to grab a coffee.

Sanji is carefully placing a cherry on top of the ice cream, his hands nimble, soft, almost—gentle. But all Zoro sees is the way the hems of his pants are still soaked in blood from an earlier skirmish with a marine ship, red seeping into the cracks on the floorboard, spattering across the kitchen floor in a slow drip, drip, drip. Zoro stares, fascinated. He can’t bring himself to look away. (Or, Zoro and Sanji—terrible monsters, in love)

Zoro gets lost, Sanji gets captured by the marines, the Strawhats break into the ship's prison, and they all escape with a bang. Not exactly in that order, much to the confusion of Sanji's cellmates.

…as witnessed, told, and suffered through by the Bravest Warrior of the Sea, Usopp. Sanji loves Zoro. Zoro loves Sanji. They are also, somehow, obliviously, infuriatingly, in an unrequited love with each other. Usopp thinks he can do something about it. He really should have had more self-preservation instinct than that.

What's left of the little eggplant is a half-empty packet of cigarettes and a bloodied tie.

Differing priorities; similar goals. Ah, the life of a lazy swordsman on the Going Merry. Pre-Alabasta setting.

Zoro has no problem speaking with things in his mouth. Sanji on the other hand...

Zoro is confident in saying that Sanji is a man who doesn’t do what he’s told. Which is why, when a command accidentally slips from Zoro’s lips during foreplay, he is expecting to hear the cook’s scoff as he continues to do what he pleases.

Imagine person A making person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off. A group of marines charge, Zoro slices through them, and in that instant Sanji feels his own eyes grow wide. Because there, on the arm now outstretched towards him, steel glinting in hand, is the stupid bracelet he’d given Zoro. The bastard is actually wearing it.

Why can't any food grown in the Grand Line ever be normal? Written for Black Bar Book's birthday to indulge all of her kinks.

“If it were me, and I was in your position, I wouldn’t let something that makes me happy slip away because it might hurt my pride to admit it.” Two years apart shouldn’t change anything. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. ZoSan

(563): Maybe he's one of those feminine men who fucks like a god then makes you fantastic crepes afterwards.

Sanji's cooking has reached a whole new level. It's almost uncanny. Especially when his thoughts and emotions somehow get into the mix along with the rest of the ingredients.

Does what it says in the title, however the tone is less flippant than that.

"Sanji hates Usopp right now, everything is completely his fault and he hates him. He hates his stupid face, his stupid lies, his stupid nose and most of all his stupid PLANTS!"

Zoro is a cambion, which means he feeds on sexual energy. A small crew like the Strawhats, its not normally enough to keep a cambion satisfied, but Sanji happens to be an abnormally sexually driven cook so it usually works out okay for Zoro. At least, it works out alright until Sanji finds out that Zoro's been taking energy from him through his dreams. For Sanji, he's trying to wade through the confusing mess of emotions for a certain marimo after a surprise kiss on the battle feild. It's not easy to do on a normal basis. It certainly isn't any easier when the man he has deeper feelings for is a cambion. Then everyone learns how important it is to keep their local cambion fed, for if they don't, someone might get eaten. literally.

Fanart for VioletHyena's fic "In Your Dreams" if you like One Piece and good AUs I recommend you to check it out!

Zeff grinned when he saw Zoro pawing at the noose around his neck. "The dress-code's the downside of working in the service industry, kid."

Sanji laughed, a short, raspy bark of amusement. "Come on, geezer, you know guys like me and the marimo-head don't see a ripe old age. We live well, grab our dreams, hold tight and die hard at the age of thirty-five. Forty if we're lucky."

Hamon: From Japanese, lit. 'blade pattern'. The pattern on the steel that characterizes a katana blade, acquired during the folding, forging and tempering process.

Zoro and Sanji's second time. The less said about the first...

To fuel such a fever long.

Sanji and Zoro show a little of their affection and mutual respect (the uninitiated say it looks a lot like 'trying to beat the shit out of each other', but that's because they don't know these two guys very well)

Started entirely by Syb la tortue, she introduced me to homestuck, the idea of quadrants and the concept of quadrants plus one piece to me. This picture: http://syblatortue.tumblr.com/post/29228514788/i-was-reminded-that-zoro-tentacles-is-a-thing-and and this one http://syblatortue.deviantart.com/art/Up-Close-and-Personal-342278201 are also to blame.

Entirely smut and time travel porn.

You know how this is going to go.

Zoro and Sanji are fighting. And that’s not really a surprise, exactly, because Zoro and Sanji are always fighting. But it’s different, this time. This time, it’s not physical, and Sanji isn’t up in Zoro’s face yelling and screaming and calling him names. There’s no swiping of polished katanas against the lithe swing of powerful legs. It’s not physical combat. This time, Sanji’s fighting with silent avoidance and quiet resignation. This time, their entire nakamaship may be on the line. And this time, Zoro doesn’t know how to fight back. OR There’s something wrong with Sanji, but Zoro doesn’t know what it is or why it’s happened – why they’ve suddenly stopped brawling and hating each other left, right and centre. All he knows is that he has to fix it, or this Sanji – the Sanji that’s sunken and tired and so, so sad - may never go away.

Zoro asks Sanji out for some private time just outside of town, and a night that begins suggestive and taunting follows a road less travelled into a sentimental territory that lies uncharted. Written for ZoSan month. Smut one shot.

In an alternate universe, forces conspired to put Ace, Sabo, and Luffy in the care of the Red Hair pirates as children. The Grand Line would never know what hit it.

As the Strawhat crew comes to find, their newest member, Sanji, flirts with anyone that breathes and walks on two legs... with the notable exception of Zoro, which the rest of the crew finds hilarious. The impossible thing, though; his flirting actually works. In which Sanji has game and really sluts up the place and Zoro is Not Amused.

Sanji and Zoro share a drink together, but their conversation heads into dangerous territory. Eventually a bet is made, and Sanji has to wonder if it's worth it.

Everyone wants to marry Zoro. Hypothetically. Sanji can’t believe everyone would pick that useless patch of growing mold over him, and considers killing Zoro. Not hypothetically. He has a list on why Zoro would be the Worst Husband Ever, not that he spends a lot of time thinking of a (purely hypothetical!) situation where he is married to Zoro, fuck you very much. (a.k.a, the one where Usopp invented Fuck, Marry, Kill.)

Sanji sees Zoro approach from a long-ways off. His shock of green hair is unmistakable, even in a crowd. Speaking of, the crowd parts around him naturally, like water around a boat. They give him suspicious looks as he passes, and it isn’t until Zoro is within eye-shot that Sanji realizes why. There is a bundle of feathers in his arms. “What the fuck are you holding?” Zoro winces and pulls a face. “Yeah, so, I can explain." The bundle of feathers moves and the dirt-streaked face of a child peers up at him. The jumble of feathers aren’t just feathers, Sanji realizes with a jolt. They’re wings.

Sanji doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, is the thing. Of all the times he has seen Zoro shirtless (in battle, mostly) he just… never noticed. The problem is, once he has noticed, Sanji can’t seem to stop noticing. And neither can anyone else. In which Zoro has a nipple piercing and Sanji has a Problem.

They’d arrived at the island of Mae to catch the end of a brutal, bloody conflict between the island natives and a band of thugs from further inland. After helpfully settling the conflict, the townspeople of Mae offer to throw the Strawhats an island-wide party complete with food, dancing, music and free credit at the best brothel their town has to offer. Wherein Sanji smokes a questionable substance prepared by a local devil-fruit user and gets a little bit hornier (and a little bit looser with his inhibitions) than he ever intended to be around a certain swordsman.

“I would almost say you look attractive like this if it wouldn’t be unfathomably disgusting and also a betrayal of everything I stand for as a human being,” Perona had told Zoro one night as she showed him a variety of tricks for untangling stubborn, sweaty hair. Zoro kinda wishes he would have listened to her, for just a single fucking moment. Maybe if he had, he would have been able to prepare himself for the level of weirdness that’s happening right now. (In which Zoro has long hair and certain people develop feelings about it.)

“So, we’re gonna play it like that, huh, Cook?” “Oh yeah. We’re gonna play it like that,” Sanji returns, despite having absolutely no fucking clue what Zoro could possibly mean by that. --- Or: The Great Game of Gay Chicken Aboard the Thousand Sunny

Most days, Sanji considers himself a bundle of neuroses at best. He smokes a reasonable amount to distract himself from the anxious urge to play with his hair or bite at his nails or chew his lips, he wears layers and suits to avoid direct skin-to-skin contact he isn’t prepared for, and most importantly, he never ever looks at his back in the mirror. Usually these things work to keep him intact, to keep him here and sane and passably whole. But some days, they don’t. And that’s when Sanji needs it. Namely—the sex.

Nami has practically lived with Zoro since their freshman year of undergrad. In all that time, she's never seen him bring anyone home.

It’s like a high when the both of them resonate on that same frequency—two radios spitting static at each other ninety-percent of the time until they find overlap for one, just one, perfectly-played song. The music is brilliant and vibrant when it’s playing. It’s always over faster than Sanji ever wants it to be.

“I am not a pretty thing,” Zoro tells him, scratching at her freshly shaved neck. Uneven strands of green hair, just long enough to barely brush the tips of her eyebrows, flop wet and graceless into her face as she turns to scowl at him. “And even if I were a pretty thing,” she adds, “I wouldn’t be yours. I wouldn’t be anyone’s, Cook.” Roronoa Zoro swore an oath that she would become nothing less than the greatest. The fact that she is a woman changes nothing.

Three inches in front of Sanji's face, Zoro is wearing an expression that could wither stone. "What the fuck," the swordsman snarls, "do you think you’re doing." The remaining logical dregs of Sanji's brain recognize that he's just gotten himself into a pretty dicey situation. The rest of it apparently doesn't fucking care, though, because the absurd line of response he comes up with is to grin right in Zoro's supremely pissed-off face and say- "Well, what was your dumb ass doing?" In which the crew’s plastered, Zoro needs to blow off some steam, and Sanji gets taught a lesson or two.