The very first time it startles him. No one usually laughs at his digs at Sanji (except maybe Luffy). But you try and fail to hide a snort behind a cough, and Zoro glances your way, eyes wide. When you realize you’ve been caught, red blooms across your cheeks and you smile sheepishly. He returns the expression, a slow-growing grin, with too many teeth.
From then on, as you grow closer, he finds himself trying to make you laugh more and more. Whether accidentally or on purpose.
During a briefing from Nami you’re tucked into Zoro’s side, his arm firmly pinning you against his bulk. He keeps muttering snide comments into your ear; coupled with his warm breath tickling your skin, you can’t help but giggle, again trying to hide it. Unsuccessfully. Nami glares at the two of you and Zoro just smirks back.
This compulsion of his doesn’t stop when your relationship turns intimate.
Zoro abruptly pulling you across the bed towards him, yanking a shriek of a laugh from you.
The silly noises that naturally happen when you’re both wet, moving together, the air humid with lust, causing you to cackle and him to snort at your reaction.
Tickling your sides just to feel you clench around him, nuzzling your neck as your protests taper off into breathless moans.
Zoro doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you do, half-lidded gaze and lopsided grin, like he’s worth more than his power to protect.
As promised, have a filthy little drabble to read while you're around family this Thanksgiving 😘
Headboard - Zoro x GN!reader - NSFW/18+ MDNI
Zoro fucking you so hard in a hotel bed that the headboard keeps slamming into the wall. You cringe at the noise, certain that someone will hear - he growls out “Let them.” It’s not until you beg him so sweetly (amidst breathy sighs and throaty moans) that he curses roughly and looms over you, gripping the headboard with one brawny arm and pulling against it, using his other hand to grasp your hip and hold you steady, his brutal pace never faltering. The muscles in his arm strain and his scarred pecs twitch with every thrust.
Despite his exertions Zoro grins devilishly down at you, still present enough to tease. “Dunno why you care so much about that noise - I‘m gonna make you scream loud enough the whole damn town will hear you.”
I’ve had a song stuck in my head all week, can you guess which one? Also Eustass Kid is so fucking fun to write, what the heck! Modern AU, established relationship, just thought it’d be nice to see him as obsessed with reader as I am with him. 🙃
Perfect ~ Eustass Kid x F!Reader
CW: Swearing, brief mentions of sex acts (masturbation, grinding), nothing too exciting.
WC: ~1.2k
“What’re you doin’?”
You glance over your shoulder and unfold your torso, pulling up the large boxer-briefs patterned with cartoon nuts and bolts. You release the waistband with a flourish and let the elastic snap against your hips with a smirk.
“I feel more comfortable with something on, and-” you glance around the semi-chaotic state of the bedroom, “-I have no idea where my underwear even are.”
“I ripped ‘em off ya.”
“Eustass!” you chide, no real heat behind the words. “I liked that pair!”
The red-head shrugs with a big grin and tucks his arm behind his head, propped against the headboard of his giant-sized bed. He has to admit it’s a nice view, watching you move around his room topless and wearing his clothes.
“Why’re you leavin’ me all alone over here?” Kid sulks.
You move to the desk in the corner, dragging over a small desktop mirror and some makeup wipes. “Some of us have things to do this afternoon and can’t stay in bed all day fucking.” Kid tsks at that - you know he could keep you trapped in his bed if he really wanted to.
“And as much as I love your, uh, art, I don’t think my boss would appreciate it nearly enough,” you tease, peering at your body in the mirror.
Reddish-purple lipstick is smeared all over your skin. While there are rare spots that form a perfect set of lips, it’s mostly lines of color, left from where Eustass Kid dragged his lips along your body as he ravished you. Your lips and neck suffered the most attention, but you blush as you notice the prominent amount concentrated on your breasts, and the trail down your stomach leading in between your legs.
You turn the mirror to meet Kid’s gaze behind you and find he has the most insufferable grin on his face. Truly caught red-handed - or red-lipped - his own mouth is anything but neat and tidy.
You roll your eyes, a soft smile lifting your lips, and adjust the mirror back towards yourself, grabbing a wipe to start removing the evidence. You don’t bother taking a seat at the desk, you just lean over and get to work.
As he watches you with sharp golden eyes, Kid’s smile slips slowly from his face. The gears in his head are spinning fast enough he’s surprised you can’t hear him thinking.
He’s fucked.
Well, technically you both were - he’d made sure of that thoroughly - but he’s in real trouble here.
He can’t tear his eyes off of you. You look so perfect standing there in his underwear, with his marks decorating your pretty skin like the finest museum-worthy art piece. It’s not an unfamiliar sight - the two of you had been dancing this tango for months now. Neither of you wanted to put any labels on it. For Kid, at first it had been a fun distraction from the regular bullshit of living.
Now, thoughts of you distracted him from every other aspect of his life. You were the first thing on his mind when he woke up, checking his beat-up phone for a text from you (since you were usually up hours before him). No matter what his day consisted of, even in the palace of his workshop, it was plagued by thoughts of you. And at night, when he couldn’t sleep for tossing and turning, your eyes, your smile, your body, consumed him as he tugged his aching cock, desperate for your touch to wear him out.
It was safe to say Kid was a bit obsessed, which was new territory for him. But as he watched you, all soft curves and graceful limbs, humming tunelessly and tapping your foot a little, he knew. All he ever really wanted was you.
You straighten from the desk and give yourself a final once-over in the mirror, satisfied with your work. You haven’t bothered cleaning up the marks below your neck - the collar of your shirt will hide all of that.
And besides, you… Kind of like the idea of walking around with Kid’s claims burning on your skin, with no one else the wiser. The thought brings a warm flush to your cheeks and you turn sheepishly towards the bed.
You’re surprised out of your own embarrassing thoughts by the sight of Kid looking just as flustered. Briefly you wonder if he knew what you intended by leaving yourself in such a state. His large hand is covering his eyes but it’s not enough to hide the blush bathing his own cheeks and tips of his ears, bright red against his pale skin.
Padding softly over to the side of the bed where he’s reclining, you lean in and blow a gentle puff of air into his ear. Kid jumps and swears, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. It’s enough to make you giggle; you’ve never seen his feathers look so ruffled.
“Penny for your thoughts, babe?” The question is dripping with false innocence as you walk your fingers up his arm.
Kid scowls and looks away, twists his arm to grab your wandering hand with his own. You yelp when he tugs you back into his lap and you settle, straddling him. You’re suddenly glad for his underwear; flimsy barrier though it may be, anything to give you a chance not to be lured back into his clutches.
Eustass Kid was never one to back down from a challenge and he’s not about to start now. Despite the heat still painting his face he manages to pin you with his golden gaze. His mouth works for a few moments before he forces the words out through clenched teeth.
“Just… Realized how much ya mean to me. How - whenever I think about what I want, you’re top of th’ list. By leagues.”
Your eyes widen and you feel like you could melt straight through the bed, the floor, into the earth below. You thought your face was on fire before - now it’s your turn to cover it with your hands.
At least, you try, but Kid has a firm grip on your left hand and he’s not letting go to save you any dignity. If anything, your reaction seems to have given him some of his cocky swagger back.
He snickers at your distress and gathers both of your hands into his large one, raising your arms above your head and leering at you like a fresh-caught prize. “What’s wrong, treasure?” he coos ominously. “Can’t handle a little sincerity?”
You shake your head and let out a surprised gasp when he pulls you against his chest, his mouth immediately back on your neck and undoing all your hard work. “Only you could turn such an embarrassing confession to your favORRrr,” you mutter, a particularly hard nip turning the last syllable into a quaking moan.
You feel an inescapable hardness growing through your stolen underwear. A secret smile spreads across your lips and you arch against Kid’s chest, grinding your hips down and wrenching a garbled curse from him against your skin.
You were definitely going to be late for work.
Tag List: @zoros-sheath @quinloki (Your pinned post says to tag you in any Kid stuff so here I am hello goodbye 🫣)
Please forgive my very specific-to-me southeastern-American idea of a home-style meal. Feel free to mentally substitute your own comfort food as much as you’d like. ♪ I’m just so in love with Sanji at this point, I think I’d do anything for him. I’m feeling super cheesy, so have a cheesy fluff piece with a cheesy-ass title. 🥰
Home Is Where the Chef Is ~ Sanji x GN!Reader
CW: None, it’s all fluff, Sanji smokes and speaks French and uses way too many pet names (what else is new)
WC: ~2k
“Ah, my sweet?” Sanji calls out to you, trying not to let his nerves seep into his tone. “Do you… Are those the right size?”
You squint at the sweet potatoes on the cutting board. Holding a thumb up next to one chunk, you stick your tongue out as though that will help you visualize the measurement you’re looking for. You shrug and carefully slice another piece of the root veggie, cutting through to the board with a satisfying clack. Sanji always kept his knives in pristine condition so you had no trouble cutting even the thickest of potatoes.
“They’re close enough to half an inch, it’ll be fine.” Finishing up with the sweet potatoes, you dump them into a baking dish and set them aside.
Sanji is gripping the counter-top, physically restraining himself from entering the kitchen to help you. He knows you normally hate cooking, but you had insisted on making him something special for your anniversary - and he was forbidden from helping.
“You cook for everyone all the time - let me treat you like my prince for once,” you had said with a smile, turning Sanji to mush. Of course he would do anything for you, move heaven and earth if you expressed such a whim, capture a falling star in a bottle and present it to you on bended knee.
But…
His kitchen was his temple.
…And you were the goddess at whose feet he worshipped daily, so he guessed he could make an exception, just this once.
Still, it was hard to watch you bumble your way around the kitchen without wincing. He could tell you were trying your hardest; the thought that you would put so much effort into a meal for him made his heart ache fondly. It was the most sincere form of love he could understand.
That didn’t stop him from almost jumping over the counter when you took a metal spoon to his non-stick pan.
You exhaled an exasperated puff when Sanji came around the island to your side, gracefully replacing the metal utensil in your grasp with a wooden one. He swept your hair away from your face and placed a soft sweet kiss on your temple, lessening the slight sting of the correction.
“Alright, you’ve babysat me long enough, out you go,” you announce, turning to face him and completely ignoring the meat now sizzling in the pan. Sanji is sweating, glancing over your shoulder anxiously, and only a little distracted by the cute apron you were wearing.
“But, mon amour, I’d love to keep you company--”
“Nope!” Hands on your hips, spoon sticking out of your fist, you adopt the sternest expression you can. “You need a smoke break. Go outside and stop hovering. I promise I won’t burn Sunny down.”
“Of course not, but--”
“I will, however, let this meat burn until that door closes behind you.”
Sanji actually lets out a small whine at your threat, big blue eyes pleading for mercy. You stand firm - as firm as you can, short and in a frilly apron - and it doesn’t take long before his culinary morals win out over his paranoia at leaving you alone. He slinks to the kitchen door, casting one last unsure look over his shoulder at you, seeing you shoo him away with both hands, keeping eye contact until the door closes behind him.
You exhale, shaking your whole body briskly to scatter the nerves. You had survived this long - you were an adult - you could cook one meal for the man you loved, damn it! Turning back to the stove, you yelped at the smoke coming from the hot pan, and threw yourself into cooking (what would hopefully be) a delicious dinner.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Sanji paced across the deck outside the galley door, glancing at it frequently as though he could develop x-ray vision through sheer force of will. He’d already burned through a handful of cigarettes. The oral stimulation wasn’t helping to soothe his nerves as it usually did.
“Oi, cook, quit wearin’ a hole in the ship,” Zoro heckled him from the lawn below. “’S not like they’re doing surgery in there, it’s just cooking.”
Sanji cast a disparaging glare at the swordsman. “Don’t act like you know how to do anything more than boil water, idiot marimo. I don’t need your opinion on anything related to the kitchen.”
Zoro’s inevitable reply is cut off as the galley door swings open, Sanji directing all of his attention to you standing there. He notes a distinct lack of billowing smoke, which is an encouraging sign. You smooth your hands through your hair and over the apron and try not to look frazzled.
“Monsieur, your exquisite dining experience is ready,” you attempt in your fanciest tone, twirling your hands in a mock bow. You reach out to Sanji and he catches your hands in his, bringing them both to his lips to kiss them lightly.
“Please, lead the way, my darling.”
You grin and tug Sanji into the kitchen; he closes the door behind him, noting that you had dimmed the overhead lights. The dining table is set for two, covered dishes keeping the results of your efforts a mystery a little longer. A handful of candles flicker softly to light the space, and there were even a smattering of rose petals scattered amongst the tableware.
Sanji glances at you to catch your pleased expression - you were clearly a bit proud of yourself. He lets you push him to the table but still pulls your chair out for you, ever the gentleman. You whip the cloches from their dishes with a nervous flourish.
It’s not a complicated meal, some sort of glazed pork with a cheesy broccoli dish accompanying it. The sweet potatoes had been turned into a syrupy, decadent casserole, flecks of brown sugar and cinnamon speckled throughout. Soft, warm rolls rested in a cloth-covered basket alongside a bottle of champagne.
As he stares at the spread you see a smile slowly grow, wider and wider, until he’s almost beaming at you. “It’s not a-anything like what you could do, obviously,” you stammer, only now feeling self-consciousness spike through your body. “It probably won’t taste that great, the pork might be a little burnt, I--”
Sanji covers your hands with his as you cut yourself off. “My love,” he says softly, “anything these hands have made for me will taste like nectar from the gods.” You flush immediately, brilliant in the candlelight, and mutter, “You’re just saying that.”
The cook gives you a lop-sided grin. “At the very least it will taste better than anything anyone else on this ship has made me.”
“I can be happy with that,” you concede.
Once Sanji serves the two of you, you can hardly wait for him to take the first bite before you’re digging into your own meal. You let out a little moan when the flavors hit your tongue - he watches you, so enraptured at how much you’re enjoying it that he forgets to continue eating. You fluster when you notice his stare and kick him lightly under the table, motioning for him to eat.
Of course it’s not the most professionally prepared meal Sanji has ever had, but that’s never mattered much to him anyways. He can taste the love and care that you put into each dish, the thought that went into each clumsily made step. It warms him to his core in a way food prepared by a stranger never could.
He loses his train of thought when he notices you smiling fondly down at your plate, smushing a bit of potatoes around with your fork.
“My mother used to make this for me on big occasions,” you admit quietly, barely louder than the crackling candles. “We both disliked cooking so we never went for anything very complicated. But when I taste these flavors…” You lift your sheepish smile to him, softly radiant, and Sanji thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful to him. “…I remember how much love was in our little home. I just really wanted to share that with you.”
Sanji’s breath catches in his throat, momentarily stunned. The cook’s heart always seems to be torn in opposite directions by the weight of his feelings for you. He feels unworthy of you sharing such an intimate memory from your past. He feels profoundly grateful that you did.
When he continues to stare long after you fall silent, you flush ruby red from the tips of your ears down to your neck. Sanji looks at you as though you’ve hung the stars in the sky just for him. He can’t fathom why you would put such effort into loving him, and yet he can’t possibly bring himself to protest.
Hurrying to fill the quiet, you tear yourself away from his ardent gaze, stuttering, “Y-You’ve always made me feel so safe and comfortable here. When I think of home now, I don’t only think of the family I’ve left behind.” Your last few words drop as velvet whispers he has to lean forward to catch. “I think… of you.”
Sanji has to bite his lip to stop himself from igniting right where he sits. His concept of “home” has been such a turbulent thing for so long, only recently settling into something that vaguely looks like a fish-shaped restaurant, or a pile of pirates seated at this very table. The idea that he could mean so much to someone to be considered part of their vision of a home… It’s something he’s never even thought would be a possibility.
And now that it’s been planted in his mind, Sanji has a sudden strong desire to never let it go. To carefully nurture that connection for the rest of his days, if only you’d allow it.
To that end, he carefully lays down his fork and knife with barely a clink against the wooden table. Gracefully he stands from his chair and kneels at your side in one smooth motion - reaches a large but delicate hand to your chin and tilts slightly ‘til you’re finally forced to meet his gaze. You meet endless ocean-blue eyes, adoration shining bright and a gentle smile playing on his lips.
“I am honored to be considered so important to you, my angel.” Soft as a breeze, his fingers caress along your face. You lean ever so slightly into his palm, waiting for him to continue, for his devout prayers to be laid at the altar of your love. “If I ever did anything right in this life, it was falling in love with you.”
You’re thankful Sanji chooses to lift himself to you for a kiss, your eyes shuttering at his words even before his lips press softly against yours. The kiss is a little desperate, a little manic, both of you struggling to express even the shallowest depths of your hearts in the simple gesture. You pull away with a small gasp, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth and slanting your eyes away, flustered. Sanji won’t stop looking at you like you’re the only person in the universe and you can’t handle it much longer.
“P-Please get up so we can finish eating,” you mumble into your hand. “The food is gonna get cold.”
The blonde grins up at you and decides to grant you mercy. “I couldn’t possibly allow such a spread to go to waste,” he agrees as he stands and returns to his seat. He doesn’t miss your sigh of relief as you both turn back to the table. Sanji picks up his fork and moves to continue eating, but uses his other hand to grab yours as he does so. Rubbing his thumb across your knuckles he pins you one last time with his visible eye and says, voice low and buttery smooth, “Truly, ma cherie, thank you for this.”
Your fluster returns in full force and you stammer a response, deliciously adorable to the chef. His teasing grin softens to a serene smile. It doesn’t fade as the two of you finish eating, as he helps you tidy up the kitchen, or, in fact, for the rest of the night.
Tag List: @zoros-sheath (if you ever want to be tagged in anything, please send me a message with what you'd like to be tagged in and I'll be happy to oblige ♪(´▽｀) )
Sooo it’s been about 12 years since I’ve written any kind of fanfiction… I never imagined I’d be getting back into it with One Piece, but here we are! I used a prompt from @sharkjana's fluffy list to shake the cobwebs off. ❤
Dreams ~ Sanji x GN!Reader
CW: None, just a ton of fluff. :)
WC: 663
The creak of salt-sprayed wood and the rocking of waves against the hull were your lullaby tonight. Wrapped in a warm cocoon of sighs and gentle darkness, safe and secure in your comfortable bed. The full moon was high in the sky, filtering softly through the curtained porthole, casting everything in buttery shadows.
Its light barely revealed your form, snuggled under the covers and up against your lover. Sanji’s long, lean body stretched against yours, his hairy legs entwined with your smooth ones. From a distance one would think him wiry, but his usual crisp outfits hid a surprising amount of muscle and strength. You rubbed your hand along the corded muscles of his thigh, delighting in how powerful it was and how it twitched under your touch.
His chest rose and fell with a huff that puffed against your hair. Sanji buried his face in the crown of your head, muttering about you starting trouble again. In retaliation he ruffled his nose against your head, mussing your hair while he breathed in your scent. You chuckled lowly and pulled your head back to look at him in the dim light. Gently you tucked his silky blond hair behind his ear, getting a rare look at his full face. Sanji opened ocean blue eyes that took your breath away even in the darkness.
You gave him a small smile and raised your hand to tenderly cup his cheek, thumb brushing along the scruff of his chin in soothing patterns. Sanji’s large hand came up to cover yours, turning his head and pressing a kiss into your palm. You could feel your heart melting as it often seemed to do at his romantic gestures. You actually adored his sometimes over-the-top mannerisms in public, but you truly could not get enough of how serious and calm he could become when devoting all of his attention to you in private. The suave and confident demeanor he carried into battle was irresistible when he applied it to romancing you.
A blush rose along your cheeks that you didn’t think the night could hide, sure Sanji would notice. His hand moved to your face now, grinning a little when he felt the warmth there, and he pulled you in for a lingering kiss. You sighed in contentment as your lips met, a velvet kiss that was slow and sweet, a simmering warmth behind it; at the feeling of his slender fingers pressing into the back of your head, holding you in a subtle show of control that left you a little weak. Your own hands splayed against his broad chest, fingers reflexively digging into his shoulders. When you inhaled you could smell the sweet smoke of his last cigarette, as well as his subtle cologne and a hint of the dinner he had prepared tonight. It all surrounded you in an overwhelming burst of love and comfort as tangible as the blanket enveloping you both.
When the two of you pulled apart Sanji was staring at you with a similar sentiment shining in his eyes. “Je t’aime, ma chérie,” he whispered to you.
“I love you too, Sanji,” you whispered back, almost giddy with a sleepy happiness.
Seeing your eyelids drooping even as you struggled to keep them open, Sanji sighed and wrapped his arms back around your plush body, tugging you securely against his solid chest.
“Good night, love,” you tell him, “See you in the morning.”
“I miss you already,” Sanji murmured, placing a kiss on the top of your head.
“Sanji, we need to sleep at some point,” you replied, stifling a yawn as you did.
“Then I hope I see you in my dreams, my love.”
Your heart clenched at his sweet declaration, and you squeezed your arms tighter around his warm body, wanting to be even closer than you already were. The two of you drifted off to blissful rest, lulled by the rocking of the ship and the comfort of each other.
This one is completely self-indulgent for me to make myself feel better. Recovering from surgery is hard, and it’s okay to cry about it and let yourself feel shitty! And then pour all your feelings into a comfort fic with your fave and toss it into the void! I promise it’s softer than the content warnings make it seem. I've been staring at this all weekend and I'm ready to let it go. :)
Scars ~ Zoro x GN!Reader
CW: Body dysphoria, discussion of medical issues, surgery, illness, scarring. Reader is GN but one gendered term is used at the end (girl).
WC: 1,859
Music played softly in the room you and Zoro shared on the Sunny, the phonograph giving it a fuzzy quality. It was a subtle backdrop to your sniffles as you cried quietly on the bed, a stuffed animal clutched tightly to your chest, tears dripping steadily onto its plush head. Other items littered the modest room, gifts from your friends and crew mates to distract or help you through the recovery process. The phonograph was from Brook, the plush from Nami - Robin had, of course, given you plenty of books to read in bed. Sanji kept you well-supplied with soft foods, easy to swallow, whenever you had enough appetite to eat them. Usopp and Franky had even teamed up to build an attachment for your bed that adjusted the angle of the mattress so you could easily sit up. All of these physical signs of their love helped make the bedroom feel less like a prison and more like a safe nest during the weeks since your surgery.
Although staying cooped up anywhere for so long would doubtless be a drain on your mental health. There wasn’t a porthole in the room so you weren’t even sure what time of day it was. Since you could hear muffled shouts through the thick wood of the deck above, you assumed it was daytime - Luffy was probably up to something, maybe pulling Usopp and Chopper into his antics. You thought it had been long enough since your last attempt at a meal that Sanji would be sending something down - hopefully with Zoro, you weren’t feeling strong enough to face anyone else right now.
Sure enough, the bedroom door soon swung open, revealing a shirtless green-haired man balancing a tray of food on one hand. You dragged your gaze up to meet his. The feelings that skipped through your heart were relief… and a little bit of guilt and shame. That he had to see you this way. That you couldn’t get it together and relieve some of the burdens in your relationship he had taken on while you were recovering from the surgery.
Not that he would ever voice any complaints about your situation. Zoro gave you everything you asked for and more with a tender stoicism that you tried to ground yourself with. He was there when you woke up coughing in the middle of the night, bringing you ice chips. He massaged your calf muscles, sore after spending weeks in bed. He even tried to keep the rest of the Strawhats from pestering you too much - although you knew they were just worried about you (you think he even growled at Brook once when the musician wouldn’t leave you alone).
Now, Zoro took in your dull stare and disheveled state, slipping into the room and gently closing the door behind him. Frowning, he crossed the small space quickly and set the tray onto your crowded bedside table. Your lover crouched in front of you, taking hold of your hands, pulling them towards him. This loosened your grip on the stuffed toy and it fell to the side, bouncing onto the floor, revealing your chest and neck.
“What’s wrong? Does it hurt anywhere?” Zoro asked you briskly but not unkindly. His eye danced across your body, checking for any bleeding or other abnormalities. Chopper had told him a few things to look out for in these next few weeks, but he didn’t see any signs of them. Finding none he relaxed slightly and met your gaze as you shook your head the tiniest amount.
Slowly you raised your head to stare at the wall behind him, straightening your bruised and scarred neck, baring it to the swordsman. It looked different than the last time he had checked on you, more pink and somewhat cleaner.
You cleared your throat, cheeks red with embarrassment, and in a small voice told him, “The glue was starting to peel a lot, so I started picking at a corner, and then… I couldn’t help myself once it started, and I peeled the whole thing off. Chopper said it would start to flake off around now anyways…” You couldn’t make yourself look at his expression. Closed your eyes as you spoke. “It didn’t hurt, but when I looked in the mirror afterwards, I- I had gotten so used to seeing it the way it was. And now it looks so different, and-” Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks, thick and fast. You felt ridiculous. Zoro’s grip on you tightened, his thumbs starting to rub soothing circles on the back of your hands.
You took a deep breath, unable to stop crying but trying to steady yourself. “It’s so much more raised than I was expecting it to be, so much more… obvious,” you whispered. “My skin feels weird and it’s just freaking me out, and once I started crying, I just… I just-”
“Shhh,” Zoro hushed you gently, rising from the floor and gathering you into his arms as your tears turned into sobs once again. He didn’t say anything beyond making comforting noises and hums, letting you feel them rumble through his chest. His arms were strong around you, his body emitting a steady warmth that seeped into your cold limbs, warming you to your core. He let you cry yourself out, releasing all of your panic, sorrow, frustration from the past few weeks. Frustration with how slow the recovery process was. With how it felt like every time you took a couple steps forward, you took even more back again. At how you sometimes felt like a stranger in your own body. Zoro held you as you hiccuped your way through all of your emotions, providing a solid sense of stability for you to anchor yourself. One arm always remained firmly around you but the other slowly trailed caresses down your back, sending distracting and calming sensations through your body.
Finally your tears subsided and you lifted your head from his chest, heavy and exhausted. “Hey,” he whispered as his brown eye met your puffy ones.
“Hi,” you mumbled back, indulging in a long blink when he leaned in to press a loving kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I’m being such a baby about this-”
Zoro sternly says your name, exasperated. “You just had major surgery not even one month ago. Your body is healing, but your mind has to heal too. You need to give it the time it needs.”
“You’re one to talk,” you mutter. “How many times has Chopper said the exact same thing to you? And how many times have you listened?”
Zoro grinned at you, the expression lifting your mood more than anything else. “Don’t act like we’re the same,” he teased. “Besides, I give my body exactly enough time to heal before I start training again.”
“Bullshit!” you squawk indignantly, slapping a hand weakly against his chest. He chuckled at your protest but didn’t argue back. With your hand on his bare skin, you let him distract you from your malaise a little more. “…Where’s your shirt?”
He grunted, nodding his head to the side table. You saw a rumpled shirt you hadn’t noticed before next to the tray of food he had brought in. “Luffy was pigging out, as usual, and spilled a whole plate on me. I was going to work out after I checked on you anyways, figured I didn’t need it.”
You deflated at the thought of being left alone again so soon. The soothing tones from the phonograph wended their way to your ears, filtering through now that you had calmed down somewhat. You looked up at the swordsman, hesitant but hopeful. “Zoro… Would you dance with me? Please?”
And how could he resist when you asked so sweetly? Wetness still clung to your lashes and, despite the redness, your eyes sparkled when you looked at him. He couldn’t believe you thought yourself weak when, when Zoro looked at you, he saw the strongest person he’d ever met. The path from illness to diagnosis to treatment to, finally, recovery, had been such a whirlwind. And yet you’d still found moments to smile and laugh, to comfort him when his own paranoia got the best of him, when he struggled with being unable to protect you from your disease. When he felt that he wasn’t strong enough.
Unable to deny you anything, Zoro slowly stood from the bed, pulling you with him, never letting you leave the circle of his arms. The music drifted from one song to another, perfect for swaying together. Nimble on his feet during a fight, Zoro was all lefts when it came to dancing anything more complicated than a shuffle. You didn’t mind in this moment, too pleasantly surprised that he agreed without protest and tired from crying to move much yourself.
Your arms wrapped around his waist and you laid your head back against his chest, fitting in neatly right under his chin. You could hear his heart beating steadily, a metronome in your ear, and tried to match yours to it. He rested his head on top of yours and lazily started to sway with you. His grip was firm and protective, holding you close. The bedside lamp glowed with a cozy yellow light that made everything fuzzy - perfectly matched to the phonograph’s crackle. The world seemed to be slowing down to give you a chance to breathe.
His golden earrings chimed softly as he spoke, keeping his chin planted on the crown of your head. “Thought you’d trust my word when it comes to stuff like this. I’ve got plenty of experience with scars.” His tone was teasing, but it did give you pause.
With your face directly on his pectoral it was hard not to look at the giant scar that roped across his body. You brought your hand around to trace curious fingertips along it. Zoro wasn’t exactly one for any type of special skincare, so his scars all went untreated once the bandages were removed. No skin strips to lower them, no creams to make them more subtle or blend with his skin. And he had so many of them - his chest, of course, and his eye, but also scattered across his arms and legs. Each one was a story that he had survived. That he had succeeded in protecting what was important to him, and come out stronger for it.
Zoro continued to rock you as your fingers roamed. He could feel when you finally gathered your tumbling thoughts, your body tensing and relaxing as you let out a long breath of air.
“Well, at least it’s not on my back,” you finally stated, voice wobbling, halfway between joking and serious.
The swordsman raised an eyebrow at that before a laugh burst out of him, startling you from his chest. He cupped your cheek with one large hand, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. It’s like his smile transferred from him to you because you were wearing a slight grin when he pulled away. Zoro knocked his forehead against yours, still smiling proudly as he murmured, “That’s my girl.”
You wear them to work out together, or when the Sunny is passing through a warm spring or summer zone. Sun's out, guns out, after all!
When you're feeling good and silly (either from a post-workout high or just nice and sun-warmed and content) you strike goofy poses like you're a top bodybuilder. You beg Zoro to pose with you, show off a little, and of course he resists... Until finally you wear him down and, if you're alone in the crow's nest or he thinks no one is looking, he'll brace his palms together and flex just for you~
Sometimes there's a mix-up in the laundry and you end up wearing each other's tank tops. On Zoro, it's obviously sexy (we've all seen the Mama crop, the classic Skypeia tank). The too-thin straps really accentuate his shoulders and back muscles, are barely able to contain his pecs. It looks like it's been painted on him - you might have to sacrifice that top, since there's probably no way you're getting it off him without ripping it.
His tank top on you is oversized, comfortable, and breezy. At first Zoro doesn't think anything of it, but he blushes when you turn and he gets a glimpse of just how much side-boob is visible through the arm holes. He's torn over whether he wants to slip more of his tops into your closet, or keep that view all to himself. ♥
You can call me Gator, Sunny, Sunshine, or any other combo of my name that tickles your fancy. 🌻🐊
I'm writing fanfiction again for the first time since high school (all One Piece for now)! I've mainly been a lurker on every website my entire life, so I'm still figuring this whole thing out! And hopefully having fun and making some cool internet friends along the way. ❤
I occasionally write spicy stuff and frequently reblog NSFW content. With that in mind, this blog is 18+ - Minors Do NOT Interact.
