Work Text:
Charlotte Pudding knew that she was hideous.
It was one of the things she was damn well sure of, aside from the fact that you didn’t disobey Big Mama and live to tell the tale. So many people had told her so over the years, until she’d gotten so sick and tired of hearing them say it that she’d brushed her bangs over her forehead, slathered her face in makeup, and ripped all their memories of her out of their heads. Then, all that was left was a perfect, darling little girl, as sweet and divine as her namesake.
It was… nice to hear them gush over how adorable she was. Until she remembered that she was just living one big lie. Until her temper got the better of her and she snapped at someone, pounding their nasty faces to a pulp or breaking their fingers or doing whatever would cause them to scream the loudest. Then they would look at her with fear and horror, and she would remember what she really was.
And then she would snip at their memories carefully until nobody else was ever the wiser.
——
Vinsmoke Sanji was a complete and utter moron.
She figured that out quickly enough. The first time they met face to face, his eyes widened so much she thought they’d pop out of their sockets, his face went beet red, and he began immediately telling her all about what a beautiful lady she was. She played along. She listened as he told her about his crew that he needed to get back to (no matter, since she was going to pump him full of lead soon anyway). He looked considerably less stupid when he talked about them. He seemed almost fond, his expression turning to something more peaceful and content.
It must be nice to have people who cared for you so much. But she wouldn’t exactly know anything about that sort of thing. So they stuck to talking about cooking and baking. Nice, respectable things. Mama would probably approve. Not that she would care, actually. As long as she got her tea party and her indisputable power, everything else mattered little.
So Pudding wasn’t doing any of this for her. Not really. In the end, it was all about herself. Even though, as she watched Sanji head back to his room and let herself replace her shy smile with an irritated scowl, she wondered what good would ever come out of this.
Honestly, she had no clue. But the wedding was fast approaching, so it wasn’t as if that mattered anyway.
——
Like any of Big Mama’s celebrations, the wedding was a sickening mess of color and sweets. The guests sat on delicate white chairs, and everywhere you looked there were bite-sized cakes, cookies and tarts laid out like jewels. The wedding cake loomed off to one side, a monstrosity of pink and white frosting. Everyone was carrying on as if this were an ordinary party, and she just wanted the whole thing to be over and done with already.
Sanji had a horribly goofy smile stuck to his face the entire time, and a couple of times she felt his hands trembling in hers. He was acting just the slightest bit strange, but the things he kept saying (Oh, you’re so gorgeous, Pudding! You outshine everyone else here!) were just too irritating for her to care. They watched the party from atop the altar, and she reminded herself over and over that soon, she was going to use the gun holstered to her left leg, underneath her fluffy wedding dress. Soon, he, too, would have to knock that grin off his face when he realized the truth.
The crowd quieted, leaving only the distant sound of music, like something from a dream, and the priest’s voice as he read their wedding vows.
Sanji lifted her veil. Slowly, cautiously, and then—
Finally, she shoved her bangs aside with a hand, moving them out of her third eye’s way. Restless with anticipation, she grinned widely at him and waited for him to freeze up. He blinked at her, eyes wide. Out of sight, she slipped the gun out from under her skirt and cocked it, the sound lost in the restless murmurs of the crowd.
She met his eyes, ready to aim and fire, but what she saw there wasn’t horror at all. It wasn’t fear or anger or revulsion, it was—
Something genuine. Not like those loopy grins that made him look like a drunkard or the face he made when he whispered those sweet nothings he seemed so damn fond of. His cheeks were dusted faintly pink, like the barest sprinkling of powdered sugar, and he was looking at her like she was beautiful.
“What a… ” he managed, as she stared at him, doubting her own eyesight. “…beautiful eye…”
Her grip went slack on the gun and it fell, slipping to the floor near the outer edge of her skirt. The crowd was confused now, and Sanji was reaching out to her tentatively, looking concerned, and… she was weeping. She was messing up the entire plan. She heard heavy footsteps and yelling in the distance, and she really should figure out what the hell was going on, but…
But this absolute fool who had called her pretty before was calling her beautiful now, and she could tell that he meant it. He’d done something nobody else had been able to without thinking twice. She couldn’t kill him after he’d said that. She couldn’t.
She could only kneel there at the altar, sobbing into her hands, because at that moment, nothing else mattered, and because she was just…
So unbelievably happy.