Archive of Our Own ^beta

“ THAT’S ENOUGH! ”Sanji’s voice boomed through the gleaming, glass-walled gym, silencing music, chatter, and the rhythmic clang of weights mid-lift. Heads turned.The tall blond had one hand clenched tightly around some idiot’s wrist—mid-squeeze on his ass. The pervert squealed like a deflated kettle as Sanji twisted his arm at an angle that promised either cooperation or a dislocated elbow.

“Touch me again,” Sanji growled, voice low and venomous, “and I’ll flambé your fingers and serve them with saffron risotto.”

The man whimpered. Damnit ! This was the third damn time this week only . And in this place of all places. Not to count others .The gym was supposed to be high-end —polished marble floors, triple-filtered air, smart-locker systems, a smoothie bar in the lounge. The kind of gym where a protein shake cost more than lunch, and the towels had embroidered logos. A place where Sanji paid extra just to work out without being bothered. Classy people only. That’s what they advertised. Apparently, “class” didn’t stop some millionaire creeps from thinking his ass came with a side of consent.

He shoved the man off with a scoff. “Tch. Filthy bastard.”Footsteps pounded toward him.

“OH MY GOD, IS SOMEONE DEAD?! IS THERE BLOOD?! IS IT A COCKROACH?!”

Usopp came skidding around the corner, face pale with panic, gym bag swinging wildly behind him “Sanji! I heard screaming! I thought you got stabbed! Or worse—touched something wet in the locker room!”

Sanji, still fuming, pointed wordlessly at the man whimpering on the floor and muttered, “He grabbed my ass.”

Usopp blinked. Then shuddered violently. “Ugh. Disgusting. Violation of a national treasure. You okay?”

“No,” Sanji gritted out, running a hand through his hair, still trembling with rage. “I’m going to start charging people just to look at it. This is harassment.”

He stormed past, muscles tense, towel slung over his shoulder like a cape of righteous fury.Usopp jogged behind him, whispering, “Honestly, maybe you need an ass guard .”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Neither of them noticed Zoro, sitting in the corner doing leg presses, glancing over with a slow narrowing of his eyes.

The café was the kind of place that pretended to be modest but charged triple for foam art. A cozy, brick-walled corner with vintage posters, creaky leather booths, and soft jazz humming through the speakers. Warm light filtered from exposed bulbs overhead, and the air smelled of roasted espresso beans and flaky pastries dusted with too much sugar.The Straw Hats - as luffy loves to call them and they go with it -  had claimed their usual booth in the back. half-moon shaped and barely big enough to contain their chaos. The table wobbled dangerously under the weight of too many drinks and exactly zero self-restraint.

Sanji slammed his tiny espresso cup down onto its saucer, making silverware clatter. The rage radiating off him was nearly visible.“Why,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “does everyone think they can just grab it?”

His hands gestured furiously midair, like they were trying to reenact the offense for extra emphasis. Blond hair, still damp from his gym shower, clung to his neck, and his shirt—tight in all the wrong ways for someone trying not to attract attention was wrinkled from having been yanked on mid-rage.Across the table, Brook leaned in with far too much interest, fingers laced under his chin.“Oh, Sanji-san,” he sighed dreamily. “May I at least see the panties that protect such a divine rear? Yohohoho—”

Sanji’s foot shot out with practiced grace, slamming into Brook’s bony shin beneath the table. “You pervert! ”

Brook reeled backward dramatically. “Ow! My leg!”

Nami didn’t even blink. She sipped from a monstrous caramel iced latte topped with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, eyes locked on her tablet. She looked devastatingly elegant for someone double-fisting caffeine and revenge stocks.“This is why I carry pepper spray,” she said, casual as death. “You should consider it. Or a taser.”

“Or a warning sign,” Usopp added, licking mustard off his thumb as he carefully held together a towering croissant sandwich. “Like ‘Look but don’t touch, unless you want your hand flambéed.’ Very on-brand.”

Across from him, Chopper gasped in horror, his cheeks puffed and pink from the steam of his rainbow marshmallow hot chocolate.”Sanji! Are you being harassed ?! That’s terrible! I’ll fight them for you!”

Sanji softened a little at that, smiling despite himself. “Thanks, Chopper. But nah. It’s not your fight.”

Meanwhile, Luffy had somehow acquired both a slice of strawberry cake and a ham sandwich and was making short work of both with full-mouthed enthusiasm.“If your butt’s that famous,” he said between chews, “maybe you should wear armor! Like a knight! In shiny butt armor!”

“I’m not turning my ass into a cooking pot, you damn monkey,” Sanji snapped, glaring.

Robin, poised and composed, stirred her delicate porcelain cup of tea. She smiled gently, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.“It sounds like you need a personal guard.”

Her gaze drifted, slow and pointed, to her left—where Zoro sat with his arms crossed and a mug of black coffee held in one hand like it had insulted him personally. Eyes cracked open to meet her look.Zoro scowled. “I’m not babysitting his ass.”

He looks at sanji smirking “ Or are you that weak and need my strong arms to help your sorry ass?”

Sanji vain pops “ what did you say mss head ? I can protect myself just fine thank you very much!”

Franky, perched precariously on the edge of the booth, raised his oversized smoothie glass. It was green and threatening banana, peanut butter, kale, and something supercharged with protein.“Bro, just install spikes on your belt. Suuuper easy. I got blueprints.”

“Please don’t put spikes near my hips,” Sanji muttered.

Jinbe, calm and noble as always, was thoughtfully chewing a seaweed scone, sipping green tea like a samurai philosopher.“In my day,” he said, “a man’s honor was guarded by his word… or his rear. You must protect both with dignity.”

Sanji dropped his face into his hand.“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” he groaned.

Usopp elbowed Zoro, snickering. “Come on, man. You’re already always behind him anyway.”

“That’s because he walks like he’s late to seduce someone, ” Zoro grunted.

Sanji’s face went bright red. “I do not! ”

Robin sipped her tea, elegant as ever, her lips twitching with a smirk. “Still,” she said softly, “the suggestion stands. Perhaps Zoro should take on the noble duty of guarding the chef’s… greatest asset.”

Zoro looked away, jaw clenched, ears just slightly pink.Sanji glared into his empty espresso cup as if it had betrayed him.He didn’t say anything else. But he noticed that Zoro never denied it.

Luffy suddenly stopped mid-bite—half a sandwich in one hand, a forkful of cake in the other—and looked up with rare, almost unnerving focus.

His eyes locked directly onto Zoro.

Then to Sanji.Then back to Zoro.

“ YOSSH! ” he declared, mouth still full but voice firm with the authority only he could summon in a café booth surrounded by chaos. “Zoro! You are officially on Sanji’s Ass Guard Duty. Captain’s orders.”The entire table went still. Then they burst into laughter.Zoro choked on his coffee.“ What?! ” he barked, slamming the cup down. “No. No way. That’s not even a real job!”

Sanji nearly spit his second espresso all over the table. “Don’t just assign people to my ass, you lunatic!”

Luffy nodded solemnly, chewing thoughtfully. “Nope. It’s real now.”

He pointed at Zoro. “You’re always near him anyway. Might as well put those swords to use.” Then at Sanji. “And you’re always yelling about it. So now you don’t have to.”

Zoro’s eye twitched. “I’m a swordsman , not a— a— glorified rear-end bouncer! ”

Usopp nearly fell off the bench laughing. “You mean a buttler! ”

“Usopp, I swear to god—” Zoro growled.

Sanji stood up, one hand on his hip, face flushed red with outrage. “You can’t just assign someone to my ass like it’s public property! ”

Nami didn’t look up from her latte. “It has been treated like public property lately.”

Chopper blinked innocently. “Zoro’s strong. I think it’s a good idea.”

Brook nodded sagely. “Indeed! Who better to guard such a splendid peach?”

Zoro groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I hate all of you.”

Luffy leaned back, satisfied. “It’s settled then. You’re the Ass Guard.”

“I didn’t agree to this!”

“You don’t have to,” Luffy grinned. “I’m the captain.”

Zoro turned to Sanji, who was still flushed and fuming. “You better not start thinking this means anything.”

Sanji scoffed, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Please. Like I’d let a moss-for-brains meathead protect my most valuable asset.”

“ I’m the one protecting it!”

“ I didn’t ask you to! ”

Their bickering echoed through the café, loud and ridiculous, like always. But neither of them noticed the small smirk tugging at Robin’s lips.Nor the spark of interest lingering in both their eyes when they thought no one was looking.

Zoro didn’t technically agree to the whole “ass guard” thing. Not verbally , anyway.

Sure, Luffy gave the order like it was gospel, and sure, everyone laughed like it was a joke but deep down, Zoro wasn’t laughing. Not because it was stupid - which it was- or because the crew was ridiculous -which they definitely were- but because the idea of someone else putting their hands on Sanji —on his Sanji—made something hot and ugly coil in his chest. That ass is his - or wish it is - and damn if the cook doesn’t have The Ass . It round and plumb in the perfect way . And god of it make zoro think of it all the time even dream about it and make him had the most frustrating morning wood ever so if he can’t touch it no one will . So no, he didn’t joke. He just started… showing up. Guards the great ass - oh the so fantastic ass - with his life .

How nice would be to slide his fingers right there, on the round ass, squeeze and feel the meat, maybe tease between a little bit after he caresses the naked sliver of Sanji’s lower back, especially his dimples and the small scar between them, at the end of his spine… oh god Zoro could feel himself drooling thinking about it .. he shakes his head he has a mention he needs to focus. 

At the gym, Zoro always seemed to finishhis set just as Sanji walked by, “accidentally” matching his pace as they moved to the next machine. When Sanji went to grab his water bottle from the bench, Zoro was already standing near it arms crossed, dead-eyed stare sweeping the room. No one tried anything. One guy looked for a second too long and dropped his dumbbell.

At the market, Zoro trailed a few feet behind Sanji with a shopping bag in one hand, pretending to be bored while scanning every person who got within two feet of him. When someone bumped into Sanji from behind, Zoro just happened to step between them and glare until the guy disappeared into a different aisle.

At the café, when Sanji leaned over the pastry case, tight jeans and all, Zoro “coincidentally” placed himself behind him in line. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, a quiet wall of muscle, arms folded across his chest like an off-duty bodyguard. Sanji never noticed. Or so he thought.

What Zoro didn’t do was make a scene. He never said a word about it. He’d just be there , a shadow to Sanji’s light, a silent threat to anyone with wandering hands and bad intentions.

And, god help him, his obsession of  That ass. That damn, perfect ass. Increases. He’d seen it in jeans, in slacks, in pajama pants, in gym shorts and every time, it was like a personal attack. It bounced when he walked. It shifted when he leaned on the counter. It was unfair. It was mesmerizing.It was definitely not for anyone else’s hands. Zoro shoved that thought down deep, deep into the part of his mind where inconvenient feelings went to die.Because he didn’t like Sanji.

He didn’t like the way his hair curled when he sweated, or how his laugh went sharp when he was actually happy, or how he’d defend Chopper with fists and insults in the same breath. He didn’t like how his voice softened when he cooked for the crew, or how his eyes lit up when someone complimented his food.He didn’t like any of that.And he definitely didn’t like the way he felt—warm, possessive, and a little unhinged—when someone so much as brushed past Sanji in a crowd.

But it was fine. He didn’t need to admit anything.He just had to make sure no one touched that ass.

Ever. Except maybe— one day —if Sanji let him.

It had been… a month.Thirty days. Four weeks. Over six hundred hours. And not a single hand had landed on his ass.Not one.

At first, Sanji was relieved. Thought maybe the world had finally learned boundaries. That humanity, miraculously, had grown a collective sense of respect.But then it kept happening. Or rather— not happening.

The gym? No creeps in the locker room. Not even the guy with the sleazy grin who used to “accidentally” brush past him near the showers. The locker hallway had become eerily… uneventful.The grocery store? - which was the worst groping happened- No pinches, no lewd comments in the produce aisle, no “Is that baguette for me, sweetheart?” Not even a wink.

The club? Not a single drunk hand while he danced, even though he knew his jeans that night were criminally tight and his hips were doing things that should’ve required a license.At first, he thought it was coincidence.Then he thought it was luck.

Now? He frowned at his reflection in the mirror of the café restroom, tilting his head.“Am I… losing it?” he muttered to himself. “Has my ass… fallen out of favor?”

He patted it discreetly. No. Still there. Still great.Something was off.He walked out into the café, carrying two cappuccinos one for Nami, one for himself. He stepped out onto the sidewalk patio, set the drinks down, and caught a flash of green in the corner of his eye.There.Across the street.Zoro.

Leaning against a lamppost like a damn comic book panel, arms crossed, face half-hidden behind dark sunglasses. Casual, silent. Watching.

Tracking.

Someone passed a little too close to Sanji—just walking by—and Zoro’s gaze flicked toward them like a security alarm had gone off.The guy looked at Zoro, hesitated, and kept walking.

Sanji blinked.

That was the third time this week.The gym. The market. The club.Everywhere he went…He looked back. Zoro was still there. Leaning, lurking, pretending not to care—but always close. Always watching.

His cheeks flushed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sanji muttered under his breath, heart thudding with something he didn’t know how to name. “He’s… actually doing it.”

For a moment, he just stood there, hands in his pockets, heat blooming embarrassingly in his chest.That idiot.

That stubborn, quiet, ridiculous idiot had been guarding his ass for an entire month —without saying a damn word.

Sanji glanced back across the street again.Zoro, sensing the attention, looked up from behind his sunglasses.

They locked eyes.Sanji’s heart did a little flip .He looked away immediately, coughing into his hand, and whispered under his breath with burning ears

“Stupid marimo.”

The bass hit like a heartbeat, heavy and primal, pulsing through the dark. Sanji moved with it—hips rolling, shirt half-unbuttoned, golden hair damp against his temples. The club lights painted him in flashes of violet, red, and gold. He was radiant. Wild. Free. The kind of beauty that pulled eyes across the room like gravity.He didn’t care.Not tonight.

The music was loud enough to drown out the noise in his head, the ache in his chest. For once, he didn’t have to think about creeps or comments or walking around like a guarded treasure. For once, he felt safe.

They were all there that night—every last one of them.

The crew had gone out to celebrate Nami’s birthday, and for once, nothing had gone wrong. Just laughter, music, and the people she loved. Sanji had spent the entire morning baking her favorite cake—tangerine sponge with citrus glaze, delicate and sweet, just like she liked it. He’d even garnished it with candied peels shaped into little orange blossoms. He’d smiled the whole time, humming under his breath, because making Nami happy was a job he took very seriously.

The day had been perfect. Warm and sunny , gifts passed around over drinks, and now, the night winding down at Nami’s favorite club where she danced with glitter in her eyes and a drink in hand, surrounded by her chaotic found family.Sanji watched her from across the room, smiling. She deserved this.

But for a night that started so light, he never expected it to end with Zoro’s hand wrapped around someone else’s wrist—and his own heart racing in his throat.

He didn’t realize how safe until it was almost too late. A hand— which has no right to touch it rough, entitled, drunk —snaked out from the crowd behind him.Fingers closed around the curve of his ass.Before Sanji could spin around, leg raised for a solid kick to the face

Another hand appeared.Faster and Stronger.It clamped down on the wrist of the groper with a crack that cut through the beat like a slap.“Touch him again,” a voice growled, low and deadly, “and I’ll break more than your wrist.”

The drunk turned, slurring something about a misunderstanding—until he saw who he was dealing with.Zoro. He looked like he’d stepped out of a storm—jaw clenched, green hair damp with sweat, tank top clinging to his chest, and that unmistakable fire in his eyes.

“You think that’s something you can just grab?” Zoro barked. “ That’s mine to touch. You have no right.”

Then he shoved the man back—hard. The guy stumbled, hit a speaker, and quickly disappeared into the crowd, nursing his ego and his arm. Sanji hadn’t moved.

He was still frozen mid-turn, one foot half-lifted, breath caught in his throat.

Zoro stepped in front of him, blocking the view, the crowd, the world. His hand hovered for a moment hesitating between clenched fists and something softer—then dropped to his side. Sanji stared at him blanking.  His heart pounded, too loud, too fast, like it was trying to break out of his ribs.

Zoro didn’t look at him at first. He stared at the crowd like he was still hunting for threats.And then—

“Zoro…”

It came out soft.Zoro looked down.Sanji’s face was flushed. Not just from the heat, or the dancing, or the adrenaline. But something else.Something much bigger .

Zoro opened his mouth, then closed it again.The beat of the music kept pulsing.So did the silence between them.

The night air outside the club was cool and crisp, a sharp contrast to the heat and thumping chaos they’d left behind. The sky stretched above them, clear and dark, stars blinking down like they knew something Sanji didn’t. They stood just outside the alley beside the building, the distant hum of music still thrumming from inside, muffled by brick and distance.

Zoro had his hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes were on the pavement. He hadn’t said a word since dragging that bastard out by the wrist and throwing him into the crowd.Sanji stood a few feet away, arms crossed, body still humming with leftover adrenaline.

For a while, neither of them spoke.Then, softly—quiet enough that it almost got lost in the night breeze—Sanji broke the silence“…You meant it, back there?”

Zoro didn’t look up. His jaw tightened. His foot scuffed against the sidewalk like he was stalling. Face flushed. “…Yeah,” he said at last, voice low and rough.

Sanji stared at him for a long moment. The streetlight above flickered faintly, casting Zoro’s face in gold and shadow. His cheeks were pink, his ears red.Sanji’s chest tightened.

He stepped forward, slow and certain, eyes never leaving Zoro’s“Then what the hell took you so long?”

Zoro blinked before Sanji’s hand grabbed the front of his shirt.And pulled.

Zoro barely had time to breathe before Sanji’s mouth was on his firm, demanding, and everything he’d ever dreamed about in the late hours of the night when no one could hear him admit it.

Zoro froze for half a second—just half—then kissed him back like something in him finally snapped loose.Sanji’s hands curled tighter in his shirt.Zoro’s found his waist.And in that quiet corner of the night, where no one was watching, something that had simmered between them for years finally, finally ignited.

The door to Sanji’s apartment swung open with a soft click, and then slammed shut just as fast—Zoro’s foot catching it before it could creak too long. He didn’t even fumble for the lights.

Sanji was in his arms, still laughing breathlessly, his hair mussed and cheeks pink from the wind and whatever the hell had just happened outside the club.“Zoro,” he huffed, hands gripping at his shirt. “You don’t even know where my bed is—”

“I do know,” Zoro muttered, lips brushing his jaw. “Been here enough times watching your ass walk from the kitchen to your room. Like a damn map.”

Sanji let out a strangled snort, burying his face in Zoro’s shoulder to hide his grin. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it.”

“I might.”

Zoro kicked his boots off without letting go, navigating through the apartment like a man on a mission. Sanji’s apartment was warm, softly lit by the glow of the streetlamps outside. The faint scent of citrus and spice lingered in the air his cologne, his cooking, him. Zoro didn’t even hesitate when they reached the hallway.Left turn.Second door.He’d definitely been paying attention.

Sanji raised an eyebrow against his neck. “Stalker.”

Zoro just grunted. “Ass enthusiast.”

That made Sanji laugh—loud, and full of joy .Then his voice dropped.“Still yours, huh?”

Zoro’s arms were around him now tight and possessive, steady. His breath was hot against Sanji’s skin as he leaned in close, nose brushing along the line of his neck.His voice low and rough like gravel and thunder . he growled into Sanji’s ear “This ass is mine. And only mine. No one’s allowed to touch it anymore. You hear me?”

Sanji let out a laugh loud, genuine, a little breathless. He tilted his head back and grinned, eyes shining with amusement and something softer beneath“It’s yours, marimo,” he said through laughter. “No one would dare anymore.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Zoro’s cheek, warm and quick.Zoro pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes burning, jaw set.

“Good,” he said. “Now let’s show this great ass the treatment it really deserves.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow, mock-surprised. “Oh wow. Sweet marimo, you’ve gone poetic.”

Zoro didn’t answer.Instead, he gripped Sanji by the hips, strong hands firm and sure, and lifted him like he weighed nothing.Sanji let out a yelp and a laugh all at once, arms instinctively looping around Zoro’s neck “Hey—! What are you—?”

But Zoro was already walking—confidently, purposefully—straight toward the bedroom without missing a step or losing direction.

“You know exactly what I’m doing,” Zoro muttered.

Sanji chuckled against his collarbone “Yeah,” he whispered. “And about damn time.”

The door swung shut behind them.

The next morning, everything looked the same.The café buzzed with its usual life—soft music playing overhead, mugs clinking against saucers, sunlight pouring in through the big street-facing windows. The Straw Hats had taken their usual corner booth, drinks in hand, sleep still lingering in their eyes.

Sanji sipped his black coffee, trying to act normal , like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t spent the night being kissed senseless and then some by a certain moss-brained swordsman. Like his legs weren’t sore and his heart wasn’t still doing weird fluttery things.and his ass felt sore in all the right places. Damn marimo indeed showed it a great time .

And It was going fine. Until Brook leaned in with his usual grin and too much cheer for this early in the day. “So, Zoro-san,” he said innocently, “how is the guarding of Sanji-san’s divine behind progressing?”

Sanji nearly choked on his coffee.

Zoro didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back in the booth, one arm slung casually over the backrest behind Sanji, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips “Well…” he said with a shrug. “It’s home now.”

There was a split second of stunned silence.

“YOU—IDIOT—SHUT UP!” Sanji went bright red as he hurled a napkin directly at Zoro’s face, nearly knocking over his espresso in the process.

Zoro caught the napkin with two fingers, smug grin only growing.

Robin, sipping her tea, smiled faintly without looking up from her book.Luffy laughed so hard he dropped his fork.Nami just smirked, picked up her mimosa, and raised it slightly in a silent toast “Took you both long enough.”