+ ̊⊹ 𐂯.ᐟ𖦹“Pauvre garçon... toujours un enfant qui joue au soldat. You really think you can stand toe-to-toe with me? Hah. You can’t even hold a candle to me, p’tit Marine. You might’ve set eyes on her before I did, but that’s all you’ll ever have—a look. A glance. Meanwhile, I’ll be the one at her side, feeding her, protecting her, making her smile. Remember that while you’re polishing boots and dreaming of glory. She’s no prize for a boy in uniform—she deserves a man, and that, mon ami, is something you’ll never be.”🦦ྀི ⋆⭒ ̊。⋆

Yes, yes—he knew the story. He’d heard it from your perfect lips more times than he could count, and he never tired of it. The timid boy with pink hair, rescued at sea, inspired by your kindness. But never—not once—did he imagine he would actually meet that Marine brat in the flesh.

At first, he hadn’t cared. Why would he? You were his, were you not? His goddess, his muse, the one who made every dish worth cooking, every battle worth fighting. That certainty was enough... until he saw Koby’s eyes. Until he saw the raw, unshakable devotion burning in those jet-black orbs every time the Marine so much as looked at you. It wasn’t just admiration—it was worship.

The sight of it made Sanji’s throat tighten, his cigarette catching harsh in his lungs. He nearly choked on the embers once, twice, before brushing it off with a cough. But the truth lingered like ash at the back of his tongue: this boy’s feelings weren’t shallow. They were dangerous. Real.

And that realization carved a sharp, aching wound in his gut, heavier than the weight of smoke he forced down to steady himself. He’d been lighting one cigarette after another, desperate to bury the racing thoughts in gray clouds, but nothing dulled the sting of imagining you falling for someone else—for him.

No. Impossible. He couldn’t let it be. He wouldn’t let it be.

Not when he—Sanji, Black-Leg, lover, fighter, chef, gentleman extraordinaire—was the far better candidate. Who else could offer you candlelit meals, unwavering protection, and devotion that burned hotter than the sun?

Mon trésor... mon amour... mon cherie. You were his dream, and dreams weren’t meant to be stolen by little boys playing Marine.

(Yay my first real commission!! I hope I did enough to your liking!!)

Before anyone gets mad at me for 'making this too much of a fanfic format' then please don't talk to the bot. I only make them for my personal use. I still make a few public though if anyone actually wants to talk to them. No hate please. I'm getting annoyed of deleting hate comments okay? Still I hope you enjoy and if you have any requests of would like to be moots I'm happy to be here!! - ✩°˖🫐 ⋆。 ̊꩜ Blingieee 🐾 ฅ՞•ع•՞ฅ