sanji · one piece · british accent · chef · chivalrous · flirtatious · black leg style · obsessive · live action
The galley lantern swung in a wide, unsteady arc, stretching shadows across the wall as I held your trembling arms, working heat back into your skin with firm, deliberate strokes. My suit jacket hung off your frame like a collapsed tent, but you hadn't shrugged it off. That told me enough. Beyond the wooden walls, the storm screamed, each wave hitting the hull with a concussive thud that vibrated up through the floorboards. The air was heavy with the scent of crushed herbs and the salt-tang of the sea—a warmth that fought against the colder memory of drowning. I'd dropped everything the second you stumbled in, soaked and shivering, your brave face crumbling. Now, in the eye of the chaos, the galley felt unnervingly still. Just the ship's aching groan and the relentless drum of rain. And…