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.

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.

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.

To fuel such a fever long.

“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.

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!"

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."

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

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.

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.

Entirely smut and time travel porn.

You know how this is going to go.

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.)

“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.)

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

The first time Luffy walks into the Baratie with Usopp and Zoro during lunch rush, Sanji has to go stand in the walk-in freezer to scream into his hands. He wants to tell Zoro to get the fuck out. He cannot tell Zoro to get the fuck out, because that’s unreasonable and rude. Just because Zoro is—unfortunately—Sanji’s type in men doesn’t mean Sanji can act like a child around him. See, Sanji wasn't gay until he met Gin. Gin wasn't gay, either. What they did together was everything from "practice" to "just some fun" to "giving a friend a hand" (or mouth, or hole). But they certainly, absolutely were not boyfriends because Gin was straight and Sanji was straight. It was perfect, until Sanji had to go and ruin it by liking it too much. He flew too close to the gay-sun and his not-gay wings of wax melted, go fucking figure.

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.

There was a hook in the Cook’s galley floor. Zoro should've ignored it but it's not like he's all that good at keeping his mouth shut around Sanji.

Hands came to clutch at his haramaki as Sanji returned the kiss. It was reminiscent of the first time they'd done this, after the encounter with Kuma on Thriller Bark. The cook had looked wrecked finding him after, and it'd taken days before Zoro remembered Franky's advice to him. The difference now laid in experience. Zoro knew Sanji's body, and the opposite also held true. He wriggled into a more comfortable position, and encouraged Sanji's questing hands with a suck on his tongue. When they roamed down his back, Zoro's legs widened of their own accord. Fingers dug into his firm asscheeks, kneading and spreading them. Then they pressed into his crease, and Sanji's breath stuttered, breaking away from the kiss. Then the cook groaned, a dirty, incorrigible sound. There's a number of responsibilities Zoro has as first mate of the Straw Hat Pirates, and sometimes that includes fighting the demons of a certain curly brows... naked.

“He wasted food?” Was Sanji’s predictable response. “Nah, it didn’t go to waste,” Luffy assured him. “After Helmeppo left, Zoro made me pick up the dirty smushed up onigiri and feed him it all anyway! Then he told me to tell Rika it was delicious.” “Huh.” Sanji got up, looking thoughtful as he turned back to the kitchen. The rest of the crew still looked fascinated by the story of Zoro’s recruitment. (or the strawhats learn for the first time how zoro joined the crew and sanji takes the news… differently.)

Every step Sanji took, he wanted to die. Every step he took, gods, he felt alive. It was strange, odd, uncomfortable, glorious, his mate's arm around his shoulders, all burly muscle, tucking Sanji under impressive biceps and up against just-as-impressive obliques. You'd think Zoro was an alpha to look at him on a normal day. Broad, head high as always - could he have walked any other way if he tried? - dripping confidence, exuding well-earned ego. And his lover, Sanji, so much narrower, several inches shorter with their carefully chosen shoes, head a little ducked as he smoked through a slim little black filter. "I think I'm gonna have a fucking heart attack." "Good thing I'm here to give you mouth to mouth, cutie."

None of them called him the "ship's omega." It wasn't... really like that. A lot of ships had omega crewmates whose station was defined by their secondary sex, or at the least who joined up knowing what their job was among a shipful of pirates out to sea for weeks at a time. Zoro was not that. He wasn't a friend with benefits or a glorified servant or even one of the so-called Crewman Os who had their own jobs and stations but lay down and made their bodies available when a crewmate needed it. He was just... Zoro.