#ZORO... ZORO GODDAMMIT...........

[zoroshonkingbazonkadonkas]

'hm? oh yeah ofc my internal compass led us to u'

[as-i-watch]

Derailed chaos is about to overcome that boat

[kendyb21]

⚔️x🧵

Sanji: *Proceeds to nudge him off with his foot abruptly. 👞🔥*

[ohanny]

it's not a hyperfixation anymore, it's a global mass husband hallucination and mackenyu has made simps out of us all

[kiranogareru]

How does he always look so fucking good😩🤤😍

He's got me feeling feelings and shit

Fuck him and his sexy ass self! Fuck his handsome face!

Like who does he think he is? A fucking god? Coz yes, yes he is and he knows it

[angel1010xx]

ｂｅｇ ｆｏｒ ｍｅ

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Pairing: Zoro x Reader (NSFW)

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“Goddammit woman, why didn’t you fucking listen to me?!” 

Zoro was livid. Here was a man, towering in front of you, menacing, broad, ominously powerful—a man that has cut mountains in half—a man that just so happened to be unbelievably pissed off at you. 

“Don’t even try raising your voice at me!” You retorted back. “We would have lost everything if I didn’t make that move! Everything that the whole crew has been trying to protect would have been for nothing, Zoro! Nothing!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck,” Zoro spat, “about some cuckoo artifact that some podunk fucking scientist made.” He sneered, slowly taking steps towards you as if he were a beast waiting to pounce on its prey. 

Zoro had practically ripped your cabin door off of its hinges as soon as the Thousand Sunny had set sail again. This was only a few moments ago. Robin uncovered an artifact on the island the crew had stopped at, which just so happened to be one that was really, dreadfully needed. However, there were some… complications while leaving the island, to put it lightly. There was one particular enemy who tried to stop the crew. This nuisance had eaten a devil fruit that granted him the ability to neutralize one’s ability to fight, like a switch being flipped to the off position. He could only affect so many people at one time, and you were one of the unlucky ones to basically become a citizen in the battlefield. 

That didn’t make you take a tactical retreat, much to the chagrin of a certain swordsman. “Then what do you give a fuck about, Zoro?”

“You want to know what I give a fuck about?” Zoro breathed out in a mocking tone of voice, now standing chest to chest with you. His eyes burned into your own. “Right now, it’s teaching you a fucking lesson.” 

Zoro pushed you against the wall, and you let out a small yelp in surprise. He was still dirty from the battle, sweaty, scraped up… but you didn’t have time to think about that, because he crashed his lips onto yours with a feverish need. You yelped again, and all Zoro did was bite your bottom lip.

You felt your brain short-circuit. What was going on? 

The swordsman reached down to put his hands on the back of your thighs, and he hoisted you up in the air in one swift motion. Instinctively, you wrapped both your arms and legs around him, your back still against the wall. “Zoro, what are you—?” 

The swordman’s lips descended on your neck, and he just kept sucking and biting you. He groaned into your neck, and the combination of the low pitch of his voice, the vibration, and the warmth of his breath and mouth were all too much for you. Zoro bit your collarbone, and you gasped. He pulled away to kiss you again. “Shut up.” 

Zoro pulled away from the wall, and took a few calculated steps backwards so he could throw you on your bed. You gazed up at him, completely flushed, but you felt an ache between your thighs. He wasted no time to straddle you, trapping your legs between his, and he grabbed your wrists. “You are going to listen to me right now.” 

He growled in such a desperate way while he tied his ever-so-handy signature bandana around your wrists, and stared down at you. You were underneath him, writhing around, rubbing your thighs together for some friction and relief. You looked dirty, you looked needy, and you looked ravageable. 

Zoro got off of on top of you, and stood by the edge of the bed. He grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him, and you gasped as he ripped through any fabric barrier between you and the air. What’s gotten into him?

He spat on your cunt, then teasingly rubbed one finger in-between your folds. You moaned and arched your back, finding it hard to handle his slow pace. He didn’t let up, though; he kept rubbing his thumb in lazy circles over your entrance, then moving up to rub lazy circles on your clit, and then back down. “Fuck, Zoro, why are you teasing me…?”

“Because you don’t know how to listen.” He watched with sadistic glee as you bucked your hips against his thumb, desperate for more stimulation. “I need you to know who’s in control.” Zoro kept staring a hole into your soul, pride swelling up in his chest as he gazed down at your swollen lips and all the marks he left on your neck. So fucking pretty.

“You want more?” He asked, barely sliding the tip of his middle finger in and out of you. “Tell me you want more. I’m not giving you anything until you beg.”

You bit your lip, not wanting to give in, but your sopping cunt was aching. You shook your head at Zoro. “No…”

He leaned over you, lips hovering just above yours, and growled at you while pulling hard on one of your nipples. “Beg.”

You cried out, grinding your hips against Zoro’s, whimpering as he continued to tug and squeeze your nipples. He grunted, grinding back against you, shuddering from the adrenaline. “Tell me what you want, and fucking beg me for it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Zoro, I need you inside me…. Please. I—please, Zoro—”

The swordsman took a second to tear his own clothes off of him. God, he was beautiful. Your eyes trailed down further and further… and God, how was he going to fit?!

Zoro smacked his dick against your cunt a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. “Say ‘please’ for me, one more time.”

“…Please.”

He pushed himself inside you in one hard thrust, giving you no time to adjust. An embarrassing squeal came out of your mouth. He was long, and he was girthy, and it felt like you were being split into two. His hand reached up to hold your tied-up ones, and he drilled into you like a man starving for water.

Sloppy, messy, wet, and god it felt so good.

Moans kept pouring out of your mouth as Zoro’s dick kissed your cervix with each thrust. He leaned his upper body onto yours, his voice dark with his own moans and grunts as he again began kissing and marking your neck. “Y’know what I give a fuck about?” He panted. “My woman. Alive.” 

“Zoro, I’m sorry—” 

Zoro changed his pace, his thrusts becoming slower and harder. Your body rocked with each one, and he put his finger in your mouth. “Ah ah ah. Show me you’re sorry. Beg for me. Beg me to make you cum on my dick.”

Your face was burning, you were swimming in pleasure, and your mind was a haze. You could smell sweat and a lingering trace of cologne, you could smell your own wetness, and all you could focus on was the growing, warm pit in your abdomen. His dick was rubbing just the right spot, but your body needed just a little bit more attention there, just a little bit more tension so you could snap—

“Fuck, please, Zoro. Please, I need you to make me cum. I need to cum on you, I’m so close, I—”

Zoro leaned back and put your ankles over his shoulders, and he began ravaging you like the beast he had been acting like earlier. It was all you could do to take it,

it was overwhelming, but his dick was curving right into that perfect spot, over, and over, and over, and over…

You cried out again, feeling the tension finally snap, and you saw white as your orgasm flooded every sense in you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” You heard Zoro moan, and he snapped his hips into yours a few more erratic times before you felt him twitch, and then you felt the strangest sensation of being full.

He stayed inside you while the two of you fought to catch a breath.

The swordsman grunted, slowly pulling out. You could feel cum spilling out of you. He laid next to you, and untied your wrists. “I can’t… I can’t protect you when you run into the fight vulnerable like that. You were supposed to go where it was safe.”

You sighed, turning onto your side to face him, and traced your finger over the scar on his chest. “’M sorry, Zoro. I was trying to do the right thing.”

“I know,” he murmured, placing his hand over yours. 

He really couldn’t stay mad at you. 

[hurlingdown]

ur zoro fic was so good omfg ftm bratty ace x ftm dom reader?? I need him So bad

MAKE ME FEEL GOOD — TOP! FTM! READER x ACE

synopsis. ace thinks that it doesn't feel good for you when the two of you have sex. you prove him wrong. the sex is fucking brilliant, actually. wc. 2.1k

tags: reader turns ftm! bratty! ace into a pillow princess, dom! reader, breeding kink, wet & messy, riding, double ended strap-on, it vibrates goddammit, strap referred to as cock sometimes, no female anatomy terms for reader, bit of hurt/comfort, imaginary creampie, holy shit they're fr about making babies, this is filthy and i love it

Ace squirmed on your thick dildo, soaked cunt pulsing around it as he struggled to balance on your lap. At the additional weight, the protruding toy on the other end of the strap-on slipped deeper into you, making you shiver. 

“Y-you said you’d finally let me top, you fucker!” he gasped, eyes teary with contempt. “For once!” 

“To be fair, you are on top,” you muttered absent-mindedly, distracted by the way his slick dripped down the remaining inches of your cock that he couldn’t take in one go. His nails dug into your shoulders as he let out a loud whine, demanding your attention. 

“Not like this!” Ace moaned, and despite his protests, his hips had started to roll against the toy, trying to take more of it inside him. “Want to—make you feel good too, it’s not always about me—” 

“I feel good too. And seeing you feel good makes me feel good,” you told him truthfully, planting your hands on his waist as you guided him down your cock, thumbs pressing gentle circles into his skin to soothe him. “Besides, I wanted to try using this. The vendor said it vibrated.” 

His eyes widened with a mixture of excitement and something more. “This thing vibrates?” 

“Yeah—there’s the remote. Hngh, fuck, don’t move so suddenly.” Ace jerked in your lap to grab the remote in your hands, making the small toy inside you shift. Feeling emboldened by your reaction, he harshly rocked his hips downwards with a keen, fully seated on your lap now. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling. 

You frowned. “Shit, do you need more lube? Did I stretch you out enough? Does it hurt?” you asked worriedly as he shook his head, feeling overwhelmed by the sensation of a fat cock pushing past his entrance and rearranging his insides.  

“No. No, just start moving.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes! I’m getting bored, so move!” 

You held in a scoff at his poor attempt to rile you up. How typical of him. 

“You’re sitting on top of me, firecracker. How d’you want me to move?” 

Ace opened his mouth to argue, but then promptly froze, flushing as he realised his position. He was still unused to the one being on top—usually it was him with his face pressed down into the sheets and ass up to the heavens, you pounding so sweetly into his pussy from behind as he cried out your name. 

Tiny crimson flames erupted from his skin and he scowled, embarrassed. “I knew that.” 

“Yeah. Of course.” You looked at him, his thighs trembling as his cunt clenched around the dildo, sitting there like a whiny brat that just got told off. “Darling,” you murmured, taking his hands into your own, to which he swatted away. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” 

“I want to!” 

Ace scowled, raising his head to look at you, and you saw the tremble of the wet sheen in his dark eyes. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, confidently, and you stifled a smile. 

“Sure.” If you can. 

You gave his hips an encouraging squeeze as he began to lift himself. His thighs were already spasming with the effort, and he let out a soft gasp, head falling forward to knock against your shoulder—unintentionally giving himself the best angle possible. 

He held in his breath as more and more of the toy was exposed, and he clenched around it experimentally, watching as globs of lube mixed with his slick were pushed out with a squelch. He was stretched so, so impossibly wide around you, and it was obscene. 

“Ace. Relax. Just a little more.” 

“I—fucking know, hah, dammit! You’re not the one—taking this fat cock,” he whimpered, shivering and gasping softly as the entire length of the dildo was revealed, the plump tip rubbing against his folds. “Gonna—gonna move now. So brace yourself.” 

Without waiting for your response, he suddenly relaxed his taut thighs, letting gravity drop him on your cock, slamming himself down all the way in one go—and he threw his head back, letting out a garbled moan as his eyes crossed. It was so fucking deep inside him, even deeper than before, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from making any noise, blessed by the erotic sight on your lap and the fact that the toy inside you was pressing at a new angle that had you clenching around it. 

“So good, babe,” you mumbled. “You’re doing so great.” 

Ace didn’t respond, and your eyes trained onto his exposed Adam's apple as it bobbed. 

“Ace?” 

The fingers gripping your shoulders trembled with effort to hold himself still as Ace took in a shaky breath through his teeth. As you saw the glistening of tears down the side of his cheeks, you knew something was wrong. 

“Shit, you okay?” 

“Y-yeah,” he managed weakly. 

“You sure you’re alright? We can stop if you want—” 

“I’m—fine. Stop asking to stop—f-fuck, do you not want me anymore?” he whimpered, wet eyes finally gazing at you with hurt and scorn as tears started to roll down his face. “Is that it? Did you get tired of me ‘cause you don’t feel good when we fuck?” 

So that was why he was so insistent on topping you. 

“No,” you sighed, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “It’s nothing like that, love. I was just worried about hurting you.” 

“Oh.” He visibly flushed from the kiss, trying to bite down a smile at the relief that flooded him. 

“And again. Your ‘good’ is my good. So stop worrying and feel good for me.” 

“But you won’t feel as good as I—” 

You kissed him, muffling any other protests. “I swear on my life, I do.” 

“Fine,” Ace huffed. “But you could never hurt me—it’d be my choice if that ever happened.” He turned his head to the side with a blush, averting your heated gaze. You were smirking, ideas rushing through your mind that you would indulge in the next time the two of you had sex: spanking, overstimulation, edging, bondage— “You’re an infuriating sap and I absolutely despise you.” 

“Yeah? You seem to love my cock, though.” 

Hot flames flickered up over his skin as his eyes snapped back to you in surprise. They hesitantly travelled down, and further down—to his drenched pussy impaled on the huge dildo, his stomach paunchy with the sheer size of it taking up all the space. He let out a breathy whine, as though just realising that your dick was still shoved deep inside him. 

He had sworn he could do it, but the truth is—he couldn’t. Not now—not like this. 

“Want me to take control?” 

“Fuck, yes, please,” Ace whispered, words burning with need. 

Satisfied by the enthusiastic consent, you slowly lowered him onto the mattress, whispering encouragement and sweet nothings to get him to relax. He rubbed at his eyes, trying his best to wipe away his tears. 

You picked up the vibrator remote that he had dropped somewhere, feeling his eager eyes dig into you. Meeting his gaze with a heated one of your own, you set it to a low level, shakily inhaling. As you began to grind your hips against him, he whimpered at the sensation, slick gushing out with each thrust of the dildo, wetting the bed. 

And it was so good for you, too, the toy rubbing and vibrating intensely inside your hole, sending the most delicious quivers down the back of your spine. This was heaven—you couldn’t even fathom why he would think otherwise. 

“More,” he demanded with a whiny tone. 

“How much more?” 

“Go a level higher—I can take it.” 

You decided to take pity on him, as he had got so overwhelmed and cried earlier. Ace never cried. Not in a scenario like this, with bad thoughts crowding his brain instead of how good you were making him feel, thinking of something so absurd—that you didn’t want him anymore. 

Adjusting the level of the vibration to his wishes, you groaned as pleasure surged through your abdomen. You took a moment to dwell in it, imagining the dildo was your own cock, and his pussy was milking you with every rut into tight heat, making him feel so good he’d grip you with his cunt—refusing to let you leave until you bred him full of your seed. 

You almost came from that thought alone. What a sight it would be, seeing him round with your children, the product of your love and sin. 

“What—what are you thinkin’ about?” Ace slurred, drunk on pleasure as he let out breathy moans and whines. “Focus on—me!” 

“My bad,” you chuckled, leaning down to kiss him as an apology, while your hips sped up to fuck him harder and faster. “You f-feel so good, baby.” 

His cheeks went pink, almost shy, a godsent complement to the brown stars that scattered across his attractive face. He dug his face into the sheets to hide his expression from you, panting heavily as he’s bodily dragged onto your cock, only to have it plunge out and ram into him again. “I, ha—AH!” he wailed at a particularly hard thrust, “I do?” 

“Yeah—you’re so fucking tight, I wanna come inside you real bad.” 

“Oh shit,” Ace breathed, eyes growing wide and almost feral. Dirty talk was common between the two of you during sex, but this was new territory. “Fuck, yeah, do it, please—” he begged, eyes tearing up again and shuddering at the prospect of you impregnating him, “I wanna—wanna have your, hnngh, babies!” 

“How—how many?” 

“We’ll think about that, ah, later—” 

“Daughter or son?” 

“Not now! Wait, a son would be nice, he’d be handsome like you...”

“I want a daughter, though.” 

“Then I’ll give you both!” he swore loudly, pussy tightening around your dildo, a sign that he was close. “Babe, fuck, I think I’m gonna—gonna come—!” 

“Yeah? Come for me. You’re so—good, so fucking good.” You turned the remote to the maximum level, feeling the vigorous vibrations bleed into the tender parts of your hole and moaning shamelessly, though not allowing the pleasure to stop you from picking up pace, hitting a certain spot within Ace that made his toes curl, making sure that he felt as good as you did. 

You needn't have worried, though—Ace was shaking, crying, and the mess between his legs was filthy and mouth-watering, milk-white slick leaking out of his pussy in copious amounts, showing just how damn good you made him feel. 

“Fuck your—kids into me, please—” he begged, spreading his legs wider to accommodate your messy thrusts. “Want them so bad!” 

You could feel yourself tethering on the verge of wanting to come so badly you would die and edging yourself, eyes rolling back as you thrusted blindly into his sopping hole, one thumb pressed onto his clit to rub, hard—and Ace came all over your cock with a throaty scream of your name, clenching so tightly around your dildo that you could almost feel it—making the toy inside you gouge into that same fucking spot, and you cry out, orgasming. 

“F-fuuuck,” you panted, pulling out and collapsing on top of Ace, the action making ungodly amounts of slick and come leak out from his cunt, completely drenching his thighs. 

He was still coming down from the life-shattering climax he just experienced, body trembling as his leg muscles spasmed and jumped involuntarily. A hand slowly carded through your hair, pressing your cheek against his muscular chest, letting you feel his heart run a marathon for you. 

You laid there for several minutes, basking in the afterglow, before he finally spoke up, breaking the silence. “About… the children,” Ace muttered, frowning. He had paused, as though he wanted to say our children and not the children. “It isn’t biologically possible, you dolt. Both of us—aren’t. That.” 

“We could find a donor.” 

“Don’t want it if it’s not yours. And—I want them to look like you, too.” 

You stomped down the blush that crept onto your cheeks, smiling like a fool. “Then we’ll just have to find a devil fruit that can help us.” 

“Oh.” He smiled back, finally, before puckering up his lips to ask for a kiss, to which you happily obliged. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you pressed your pounding heart to his own, letting him know exactly how good he had been making you feel, all along.  masterlist!

[anystalker707]

Dolled up [1/2]

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [male, amab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Crossdressing Tags: He wears pretty lingeries / Demanding, but he's a bottom / He's very vocal / Just a princess

[PART 2]

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          “Goddammit,” Sanji whispered as he removed his blazer, making a face when he turned it and saw the back was also dirty.

The last encounter with the Marine had you, Sanji, Usopp, and Zoro sliding and falling on the mud when on the run. Sanji seemed extra bothered that his suit got all dirty, in such a bitter mood ever since he stood up and returned to the ship.

You sat on a stool in the bathroom, already with your shirt and shoes off, while you carefully observed Sanji remove his shoes and then his pants. He had garters for his socks and shirt-stays, obviously. Honestly, he looked fine like that, or in any way that mattered. Your eyes lingered on his thighs, observing him fold his clothes and put them away. That look of frustration remained on his face. Your eyes darted up a little, but his shirt went down over his underwear, blocking any view.

“Lingerie?” Your voice cut through the silence and his thoughts, making Sanji raise an eyebrow as he looked at you. “Didn’t know you liked wearing lingerie,” you teased with a grin.

Sanji’s brow lowered as he glared at you, placing his hands on his hips. “It’s not lingerie.” His voice was flat and sharp.

“Damn, really?” You clicked your tongue, shaking your head, unable to stop the grin on your face. “Really looks like lingerie, dude, sorry. That’s totally a lingerie. No need to hide it from me. We are crew mates.”

A red tone crept on Sanji’s face with anger, his lips twisting as he kept glaring at you through his visible eye. “I already told you it’s not lingerie!”

“Chill! I understand it…” You said, making a hand motion as you stood up—Sanji’s shoulders lowered a bit as the tension eased. “You’re just trying to play cool, I see. No need to, though. I completely respect you, dude,” you started chuckling, failing at keeping the fake serious posture the longer Sanji spent looking at you. It was so hard not to laugh, but there was something about the fact he was mad and frustrated like this that made it funny. You liked Sanji—you genuinely did, but you also enjoyed getting on his nerves, just like he did to you sometimes.

“It’s not lingerie!”

“It is!”

“It’s not!”

“C’mon, look at it!”

Sanji cursed under his breath as he stepped closer. “This isn’t lingerie.”

“B—”

He unbuttoned his shirt in a quick motion. “This is, you uncultured idiot.” He had a nice set of pink lace underwear that clad the bulge between his legs quite nicely. His corset—also in lace—had garters that connected it with straps to the hem of the… panties?

You were out of words, eyes trained on Sanji’s actual lingerie. Instinctively, you reached out a hand, tracing the pattern on the corset—he didn’t seem to mind, lowering his arms as he followed your touches with his eyes. “Fuck,” you whispered. It managed to make his waist even more slim than it already was.

The temptation to hold his waist was hard to fight against, so you ended up just giving in, feeling his warm skin through the thin fabric. Sanji let out a breath, making a small sound as he reached to hold on to your forearms. His hands barely touched you before there was the sound of loud footsteps coming down the hall; you immediately stepped away from each other. While you looked away, scratching the side of your neck, Sanji just pulled his shirt close and grabbed his clothes, hugging it to his chest.

“Hey!” Zoro groaned as Sanji bumped into his shoulder when walking into the room.

“Fuck off!” Sanji replied in the same beat, sharper than usual.

Even Usopp fell quiet and widened his eyes, looking at you for an explanation, but you just shrugged at the two.

          The thought of the incident in the bathroom didn’t leave your mind all day long. It was too intimate, too close. You’d never been that close to Sanji before; you two were close friends—with few benefits—, of course, but not that kind of close, and you were starting to rethink your feelings about Sanji, now. Maybe the times you two had made out in empty, dark rooms with hands all over yourselves during parties or the stolen kisses weren’t all that meaningless. Well, maybe they were, but just to you and your oblivious mind, as always.

That had you feeling absolutely pathetic, the way just a small moment like that was able to brainwash you like that. Fighting against the discomfort between your legs while lying on your bed was taking so much of you. Too much.

A knock on the door of your cabin cut through the thick atmosphere and grounded you again. You immediately sat on the bed and looked at the door for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Who could it be at that time?

You were about to ask what they wanted once you opened the door, but the words just died at the tip of your tongue. Out of everything you expected, seeing Sanji stand there in his deep red robe was probably the last thing, but it was also far from the worst thing. His face had an air of annoyance on it, so you quickly stepped out of the way and let Sanji walk in.

“You know, earlier—”

“Shush,” Sanji cut you off simply. He turned around to face you, undoing the knot that held his robe together. “Look, I know I can trust you with this, and I also need this, so you better not make a big deal or anything.”

You raised your eyebrows, throwing your hands in the air as if to prove to him that you wouldn’t.

Sanji’s chest raised and lowered with a deep breath before the robe started falling down his shoulders, pooling around his elbows for now. It opened as well, exposing his legs. The lingerie he wore this time was different—the top made with satin, having lace details, all frilly, but still in the same pastel pink from earlier. It matched his skin perfectly, hugging his frame so nicely. This time, he also had thigh-highs that connected to the waist piece by straps. It was a little loose on his chest, given how his pecs couldn’t fill the bra enough.

As if it weren’t enough, Sanji also had a pearl necklace gently resting over his collarbones and— Was that gloss on his lips? The dim lighting in the room limited your vision but also set a nice atmosphere, which you wouldn’t change.

A strained sigh escaped your lips as you took in every detail, watching the little sparkles that reflected the light whenever it hit Sanji’s thigh-highs.

“(Y/n),” Sanji brought you back to reality.

If you were lost before, you were fucking dying now, breathless. Still, you did your best to stay focused while moving closer to him. Sanji’s hands rested on your shoulders out of instinct, and you held his waist again, standing as close as you could, feeling his breath fan over your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, observing his face from close, enough to see the little freckles over his face.

Sanji breathed a chuckle, looking away for a moment. “Yeah, I know,” he joked a little as he let your nose brush against yours lovingly. “So, won’t you kiss me? Did I do all of this for nothing?”

Chuckling as well, you clicked your tongue. “It is a lot. You can’t expect me not to appreciate it properly, can you?”

A smile tugged on your lips as you caressed his waist gently before pulling him closer, pressing your lips to his gently. Sanji hummed softly into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your shoulders this time, letting your bodies fit together. His lips tasted fruity and sweet, the lip gloss smearing over your lips as well while you two kissed, so you couldn’t help letting your tongue trail along his bottom up. He didn’t open his lips, though.

“Please,” you groaned against his lips, receiving a soft chuckle in response.

“No,” Sanji whispered.

You were about to kiss Sanji again when he pulled away and started pushing you back until you fell sat on the bed. He motioned for you to get further on the bed, so you did it, only able to remove your shirt before Sanji was already on top of you, pushing you down to the bed with a hand on your chest before he straddled your hips. He looked so beautiful on top of you like that, blue eyes observing you through blown pupils and half-open eyes.

“Fuck,” you groaned, placing your hands over his thighs. You could still taste his lips.

Sanji’s lips parted open in a grin, a proud one. His hands rested over your chest as he rolled his hips onto yours and, fuck, you don’t remember the last time you got so hard that easily. Just feeling Sanji’s ass grind against your cock through layers of clothes already had you moaning, gripping his thighs as you pushed your hips up against his to meet his motions.

He also moaned, biting his lip as your motions synced.

“I’m already prepared,” he whispered, moaning as well. He sounded heavenly.

“You’re going to kill me,” you groaned, squeezing his thighs hard.

Sanji gasped, pressing his hips to yours more, and let out another moan when your hand touched him through the lace panties. Continuing your motions, Sanji eventually let out a whimper, his nails digging into your chest.

“You deserve to be fucked hard just for that,” you whispered, reaching into the bedside table’s drawer while keeping a hand on his cock, keeping him in that needy state until you needed to remove your pants and boxers. Sanji got up a little so that he could help you with it, soon returning to the previous position, and the friction of his lace panties against your cock made you moan louder than expected. He widened his eyes a little but rocked his hips against yours a couple of times more. “Mmph, stop,” you groaned, slapping his thigh a little.

“Weak,” Sanji mutters teasingly as he moves back a little.

“Shut up, I’m not the one who offered himself here,” you retorted with a small smile, opening the lube. Sanji pouted, pink lip sticking out, but he didn’t say anything while watching you hiss when the cold lube came in contact with your cock. He went forward to touch it, just to have his hand swatted away. You couldn’t risk any unnecessary touches, at least not right now.

Soon, you set the lube aside. “Hey, let me…”

You fell silent at seeing Sanji just pull his panties to the side as he got up on his knees. Was he really gonna keep it to fuck? A breath got caught in your throat as you watched him take his cock out—it was heavy in his hand, flushed pink, leaking—, giving it a few pumps before he grabbed your own instead. Just the feeling of Sanji’s hole against your tip was enough to make you groan, eventually moaning at how tight he felt; hot and slick walls pulling you deeper inside him.

“Ah, fuck,” you moaned, holding his hips tightly as Sanji lowered himself on you. He also let out a pleased sound, switching to grabbing your wrists, your upper arms, and eventually pressing his hands to your chest. That felt way too good.

Sanji started moving his hips slowly, trying to find a pace. His nails sank in your chest whenever he happened to lower himself against you with more force than intended, his moans growing higher-pitched every time that happened. Within some minutes, though, he finally found a pace that worked for both of you, fucking himself on your cock deliciously, just the way he’d been planning whilst dolling himself up to come to your cabin.

“So pretty,” you whispered to him, wrapping your hands around his forearms and pushing them until he let his hands slip into yours. Your fingers laced with his, tightening the grip.

Sanji’s hips gained a steadier rhythm when it happened—he gasped, moaning and throwing his head back whenever finding the angles that let your tip graze right against his prostate. He rolled his hips in a specific way, whining as his cock twitched, and the way he clenched around you made you throw your head back against the pillow. No way, you were missing on this that whole time.

“That all you got?” You said, voice tight in your chest with pleasure. “C’mon, I know you can do better than that, yeah? Show me what you got,” you whispered while moving your hips up to meet his for the first few times, letting your motions fall in sync with his.

A louder moan escaped his lips the moment your hips drove up the moment he was lowering himself on you, so you stopped moving again. Sanji started riding you with more enthusiasm, making you wonder if the sparkling feeling was already starting to set itself by the end of his spine as well. You were out of breath, biting on your lip while concentrating on not cumming too soon while Sanji clenched so tightly around you, riding you so nice and good.

“Yeah,” Sanji whispered between moans, pausing to roll his hips the way he liked so much before he resumed the pace from before.

It was hard, but you managed to let go of one of his hands, letting him hold onto your shoulder instead while you wrapped your hand around his cock. Each of your motions was followed by a moan from Sanji, practically. When your thumb grazed his tip, spreading the pre-cum, Sanji let out a shaky breath that resembled a sob, tightening around you so tightly that you couldn’t help it.

You arched your back, pressing your eyes shut and pushing your hips up while cumming deep inside Sanji while he still rode you, rolling his hips and clenching you so deliciously, milking you as he chased his own high. He gasped, nails sinking into your shoulder and fingers squeezing your hand, and it was just a matter of time before he also came, pushing his hips back on your cock and forward into your hand messily. He sounded out of air, gasping and whimpering as he slowly came down from his high, only leaving a sticky mess on your chest and a throbbing cock in your hand, still spasming around your cock.

You needed a moment to recompose yourself—your mind was still fuzzy as you stared at the dark ceiling, body tingling, with Sanji all over your mind. He was all that mattered at the moment.

Eventually, your hand started moving around him again, pumping his cock, using his own cum as lube. He gasped and whimpered, holding your wrist. “(Y/n)—”

“You didn’t doll yourself up just for a single round, did you?” A smirk tugged on your lips as you felt him twitch in your hand.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[mockingjaaaye]

So, Zoro giving Sanji one of his earrings.

They're aware of what the other feels. They know that the type of love they feel for each other is different from what they feel towards their crewmates, but considering the lives they have, taking risks everyday, they agreed on not pursuing a romantic relationship, maintaining their friendship. Being "nakama" it's more important than whatever desires they have.

But, even if they have this agreement, somedays they just ignore it. Living together and seeing the other everyday it's hard, you know. So, sometimes they just hide in the aquarium, or the bathroom, or the pantry. They can't help but to give in on their desires and let them selves enjoy each other's arms, each others lips, each other's hands. The heat of their bodies, caressing each other's skin, touching each other's hair.

After all this time, months, even years, they need to have these moments to relieve the longing. They don't regret a single bit of their decision, because they totally can be happy with just existing around the other.

At least that's what they tell to themselves.

The thing is that every single day that passes, Zoro can't stop thinking, at least once, about their agreement. Like, f*ck everything. If one of them dies tomorrow, is that gonna be it? They gonna live their last minutes with just stolen moments? They're losing time, goddammit!

So, one night all the crew has been drinking. It's been peaceful days on board of The Sunny, and everyone wanted to have a good time, so, after some hours of celebration he has drunk enough alcohol to feel slightly tipsy but also to begin to feel his inhibitions to wear out.

At one moment, while he's watching his friends start to get sleepy (in fact, Chopper is already sleeping in Robin's lap), he loses sight of the cook.

Zoro quickly locates him, hearing his steps behind him. As he turns and follows the sounds, he sees Sanji walking towards the galley. Right before Sanji enters the room, he locks eyes with him.

They look at each other for one second. Two seconds. Three. When Zoro gets to ten, Sanji turns and disappears through the door.

Zoro doesn't wait another second and he's already walking to join Sanji. He can't say no to those inviting eyes.

When he enters the room, it's dark. Zoro's about to call the blonde, but then he hears the lock of the door and feels the presence of the man he's been wanting to touch all night.

Not even a second after he turns, Sanji is already kissing him, hands on his shirt and his hair, while he pushes the swordsman towards the couch.

This is what he needed. This is what he needs. This is what he always wants to have. Not short moments every 2 weeks, when they can't stand another moment without feeling each other's lips. Not stolen glances during meals. He wants this right now, and every moment from now on.

They've been in each other's life's for years, and they just know that they'll always be there where the other is. If Sanji breathes, he wants to breath with him.

How else can he tell Sanji his own truth.

He tries to say it of through his fingers, he tries with his lips. How else can he tell Sanji "I'm yours. I always have been. I will always be yours".

And as Sanji kisses his neck, his shoulder, his chest, Zoro takes one of his earrings, and with his other hand cups Sanji's face, forcing him to break the kisses to look at him in the eyes.

Sanji looks at him confused, and the look deepens when he feels something cold against his ear. Slowly, the chef rises his own hand and covers the object with his fingers, touching it, trying to figure out what it is.

When he's about to ask Zoro what is going on, he notices the moss-head's left ear with the dim light the full moon provides.

"If you're not ready now, or ever, to forget our agreement, it's okay, but I want you to have this either way", Zoro tells him. "If I don't ever get to wake up with you, if I don't ever get to hold your hand whenever I want to, it's completely okay. But I want you to have a part of me with you. I need you to know that i want you in my life as long as I get to live, but everytime you look at this earring, what i want you to remember is that I'll always be at your side if you ever look for me. No matter what we are or who we are with".

It takes some minutes for Sanji to understand the weight of Zoro's words. To actually realize the size of the swordsman feelings for him. But more importantly, allowing his own love for Zoro to be free, and not forcefully hidden in the deepest part of his heart.

"I want it. Oh lord, I also want it, Zoro", Sanji answers as he starts crying. They kiss, more fiercely this time, but also differently. From now on, they won't have to steal rushed kisses in the middle of the night anymore.

"There's a problem, though", suddenly Sanji says.

Zoro opens his eyes and he swears his heart stops. What could possibly be wrong. Is Sanji already regretting this?

But Sanji smiles at him. "I don't think I can wear this. Can't help but notice that i have none of my ears pierced". And they both laugh.

They fix the problem that same night.

The next day, every single one of their crew mates notice the new piece of jewelry on Sanji's ear and, of course, the lack of one in Zoro's. None of his friends says anything, but they smile when they notice this welcoming change.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Hi there! I'm just popping in to say that I looove all of your fics and headcanons for the One Piece men! I'm looking forward to reading more of your ongoing projects as you share them ☺️

Would you consider, in the future, maybe doing a request for headcanons of Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, and Mihawk with a short/petite female reader?

Thank you, and keep up the superb writing!

💚🩵❤️🧡

First, thank you so much!!! So so happy you're enjoying them, I am honored.

Soo most of my female characters actually are on the shorter/more petite side. I don’t like self-inserting when writing (doesn’t bother me at ALL to read it, I just don’t like writing myself), so they’re about as different from me as possible in appearance, which means short and small.

So I’ve got PLEEEENTY of headcanons for this!!

Short Stuff

NSFW Headcanons

OPLA!Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk x AFAB!Petite!Reader

♫♬Baby Doll — The Fratellis♬♫

Baby doll, do you believe they’ll catch you when you fall,

And when morning comes, the sun is gonna shine?

Sanji

"I've never met anyone sweeter than you in my life, love."

Honestly thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. Just wants to cuddle you forever and protect you from everything.

If you’re self-conscious about your size for any reason he definitely isn’t going to tease you about it; won’t even make mention of it, if that’s what you prefer, but he still absolutely loves it.

Loves to carry you on his back if you have to walk anywhere, you resting your chin or your cheek on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders.

Honestly so gentle, like he’s afraid of breaking you, you’re just so precious and cute and he doesn’t want to do anything that could ever even potentially hurt you.

Loves even more to carry you like a princess to bed, one arm around your back and his other under your knees, brushing his lips to yours.

Showering you with murmured praises, laying you down gently and kissing every inch of you, trailing his lips across your skin.

Just dying between your thighs while you come over and over again on his tongue.

Zoro

“Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, midget?”

“Midget” is a term of endearment…though he does use it to get on your nerves just a little because it’s cute seeing someone so small get so annoyed.

Like the top of your head barely comes up to his chin, seriously, what are you going to do about it?

Not being cruel by any means, just light teasing. Just enough to make your cheeks go a little red, to make you purse your lips and shove at him or punch at his arm.

You get too annoyed and he just wraps his hands around your waist and lowers his head down to kiss you, murmur against your lips that you’re just so sexy when you’re pissed off, and goddammit if you don’t forgive him every time.

Loves using you to help with his strength training, e.g. sitting cross-legged on his back while he’s doing push-ups.

Which usually results in him flipping you onto your back and fucking you senseless at some point.

Still counts as endurance training, so win-win.

Shanks

"Come on now, love. You're not short, you're just fun-sized!"

You are his babydoll and you must be protected at all costs. Doesn’t matter if you’re an adept fighter or not, you must be protected at all costs.

You’re just so tiny and fragile and adorable, he literally has no choice.

And he absolutely loves it.

Coming up behind you and resting his chin or his cheek over the crown of your hair, pulling you back against him by your waist because you just fit against him so perfectly.

Or stooping down when you least expect it to catch you around the middle and just carry you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, chuckling at your protest the whole time.

The sight of you straddling him makes him completely feral—your thighs wrapped around him, your hips rolling, your slight form on full display for him to drink in.

Gritting his teeth while you grind against his cock, clenching his hand around your hip to pull you up…and then right back down, groaning as you slowly sink down onto him, slowly filling you inch by inch.

Struggling the entire time to hold himself back, to let you set the pace, you’re so much smaller than him and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you, but it’s oh so hard no to just seize you by the waist and pound into you.

Loves when you lay across his chest in the serenity of the afterglow, with your head resting against his shoulder, running his fingers through your hair or resting his hand over your ass, brushing his lips to your forehead and your temple and your neck.

Will likely hold you there like that all night if you have no protest over it.

Mihawk

"You're pushing your luck, my little bird."

You brat him and he will literally pick you up and put you up on a high shelf somewhere that you can’t get down from and leave you there until you get your act together.

Probably just sip a glass of wine and smirk while you protest.

Has absolutely no issue using your size against you. It makes you seem all the more like a toy, his little plaything.

It’s something of a power rush, how easy it is to pin you down, how easily he can wrap one hand around both of your wrists and pin them over your head and refuse you the pleasure of touching him while he teases you to the brink of madness.

Pinning you to a wall, shoving his hand down your panties, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time while you beg for more.

It’s so, so easy to control you, to control your pleasure or deny it entirely while he revels in your whimpering and whining and pleading.

So easy to rip away your panties, pick you up by your thighs, pin you against a wall and thrust into you, rail you until you’re breathless and screaming his name.

Your legs wrapped around his hips, his eyes occasionally scanning down your slight form before locking back onto your gaze again.

So easy to carry you to bed after, to revel in your limp and trembling form pressed against his side with your arm across his chest and his tucked under your neck and curled around your back to hold you against him and comb his fingers through your hair.

[inoreuct]

zosan caretaking fluff feat. hair washing, banter and very soft vibes. dinner is served.

Sanji sighed, sliding down until the back of his head pressed against the lip of the bathtub. The water was toeing the line between too hot and just right and he'd poured in enough lavender emulsion to coat it with dense, heady bubbles; they tickled his chin as he let his eyes slip shut.

It had been such a long day.

He'd been rudely woken up by the sound of a cannonball crashing through their hull, tossed out of his bunk a second later when the enemy ship rammed into their side; having to fight moments after being startled awake had already put him in a horrid mood, and then he'd realised that the galley had taken damage and he would have to restock more than half of everything he'd had in there. The fridge had lost power too so he'd had to cook all the meat that had thawed (which, to be fair, was never a problem with Luffy around) but then his whole crew had scattered during their supply run and he'd lugged a shit-ton of food back to the Sunny himself and now his brain was buzzing and his everything was aching and he was pretty sure he had gunpowder in his hair.

The steam filled his lungs when he breathed in, damp and dense and warm, settling heavy as he trailed his fingers through the milky water. His neck hurt from staring down at goods all day and he could feel the beginning of a tension headache behind his eyeballs. It was a small blessing that he had the bathroom to himself—

The door creaked open.

Goddammit. Sanji sucked down a fortifying breath before he looked up— and relaxed, because thankfully, the one possible person he might be able to tolerate at the moment was sliding inside with one arm behind his back.

Zoro pushed the door shut with his heel, loose pants wrapped low around his hips and hair already darkening from the humidity. "Hi."

"Hello, marimo," Sanji sighed, tilting his head to the side. He watched as Zoro trudged over and stuck his free hand into the water before yanking it back with a muffled hiss.

"That's hot."

"Nearly enough to boil a lobster," the cook agreed mildly, eyebrows flashing up as he turned his head to track Zoro pulling up a stool, lazy and languid. "Now did you need anything, or are you just here to kill off more of my brain cells?"

Zoro gave him a dry look.

A heavy exhale slipped from Sanji's nose before he reached behind him, fingers brushing Zoro's elbow and sliding down to take his hand. He spread the swordsman's fingers out, tracing over hard-earned callouses with featherlight swirls. "I'm sorry, mon chou," he sighed, letting his temple fall against Zoro's knuckles. "Just... tired, is all."

"I know." Zoro flipped his palm, rubbing a thumb over Sanji's cheekbone before pulling away. "Brought you something."

Sanji heard the sound of glass being picked up and nearly turned before he was presented with a dark, stout bottle, the labelling font reminiscent of chalk on a blackboard. "Pirate Blend," he read, huffing a chuckle. Fitting. "No glass?"

"As if you won't finish the whole thing."

He let out a faux-indignant gasp, reaching out to whack the back of his hand against Zoro's bare chest. "Ass."

"That was my tit, cook. Think the steam's getting to your head."

The laugh that peeled its way out of Sanji's throat was sticky with exhaustion, steeped through with lavender suds and underpinned by the ache in his muscles as he popped the cork with his teeth and took a swig. "...Where did you get this?"

"There was a tasting booth in the market. Thought you'd like this one."

"You thought right," Sanji admitted, lifting the bottle to his mouth again and letting the wine coat his tongue; a red by the taste of it, with a nearly savoury spiced vanilla and dark, syrupy cacao, a rich core of sweet berry, an almost silky hint of dry tannin. He held out the bottle, but Zoro shook his head with a soft quirk of his mouth.

"Got it for you, swirly."

The cook smirked. "Suit yourself. So that's where you ran off to while poor little me was stuck doing all the heavy lifting," he lamented, sighing and emphasising it with an exaggerated sip.

"Not just that."

He heard twine sliding across waxed paper, packaging rustling as it was unfolded—

The water sloshed as Sanji set his bottle down and turned around, holding onto the edge of the tub as Zoro pulled the last bit of paper away to reveal the set of soaps in his lap.

The cook's breath caught. Each of the five bars clearly had a different scent, and a design to match; the one with green and cream swirls was matcha, surely, and the translucent one with rose petals was obviously rose. One more was oat and honey, and the one with a herb sprig on top was definitely rosemary mint— But the last one was plain brown, mild enough that his nose couldn't pick out what it was supposed to be. "Marimo."

"Hm?"

"How much did these cost?"

Zoro shot him a smug grin. "Just a couple of logs that needed chopping... And some charm."

"You." The cook blinked, stretching out like a cat to rest his chin on his hands, lips twitching as he tried to hide his awed smile. "Charm."

"Oi! I can be charming when I want to be!" The swordsman scowled at Sanji's fond, disbelieving scoff. "I charmed you, didn't I?"

"Yes, well—" Sanji felt a little breathless, buoyant, like if he let go of the tub he'd float with no effort at all. "Yes, I suppose you did." He held still, heart fluttering in the hollow of his throat as Zoro's face softened, leaning forward to poke at something in his hair.

"You've got gunpowder in your bangs."

"I— Ugh, I know!" he complained, rolling over with a dramatic sigh.

"Well, hurry up and pick one, then!"

"Pick one?" Sanji lurched up again, bubbles sloshing everywhere, eyes flicking between Zoro and the soaps. "I can't just pick one, they all smell so good and they're too pretty to—"

"Oh, for the love of— Curly, can you just pick one and let me wash your hair?" Zoro deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest and completely oblivious to the way he'd just made Sanji's entire system freeze, the inconsiderate moss-headed bastard.

If a cannonball crashed into their ship again, Sanji wouldn't have noticed. If the Sunny was sinking, he wouldn't have cared. He was much too preoccupied with staring at the man sitting in front of him, skin flushed with the warmth, green hair mussed as it always was, soaps that he'd bought for Sanji on a whim in his lap. The cook's fingers dug into the edge of the tub and gripped until ceramic squeaked. Zoro wanted to wash his hair.

Zoro's throat bobbed as he swallowed, clearly fighting the urge to look away. "Look, if you don't want—"

"No!" Sanji yelped, startling himself enough that he nearly clapped his hands over his own mouth. "No, I— This one," he breathed, reaching for the plain brown bar and pressing it into Zoro's palm. "This one." He knew that he probably looked nearly shocked, eyes so wide it must have been unsettling, but his chest ached something fierce when he breathed in deep down all the way to his gut and he couldn't help it. His water must have been getting cold by now but he didn't feel it at all.

Zoro's lashes fluttered as he shifted in his seat, carefully wrapping the rest of the soaps up and placing them aside. "Okay, then. Turn around."

Sanji flipped, sitting still as Zoro gently pulled the tie from his hair and slipped it around his own wrist, holding back a shiver when calloused hands cupped his face to guide him nearer the running tap. The water seemed warm, but not warmer than Zoro himself; the swordsman always seemed to run ridiculously hot and Sanji—

"Relax," Zoro murmured, his hand broad and steady against the back of Sanji's head. "I've got you, cook. Lean back."

And Sanji was slowly coming to realise that he was loathe to deny Zoro anything, so he did. He let his weight sink back against Zoro's hand, trusting the swordsman to hold him up, letting his eyes close as Zoro carefully poured water over his scalp until his curls were soaked. He didn't open them even as he was pushed back up, settling comfortably in the tub as Zoro lathered the soap in his hands. What remaining suds left in the tub lapped at his collarbones; the water was a soothing pressure all around his torso, and he didn't bother hiding his soft sigh when Zoro's fingers slid into his hair.

"S'getting long." Firm fingertips started scrubbing at his scalp, kneading into spots of tension Sanji didn't even know he had. "You gonna cut it?"

"Mm? No," he sighed, shuddering when Zoro dragged his thumbs up from his nape. "Think I w'na grow it out."

Zoro hummed at that, tipping the cook's head to the side. "You'll look pretty."

"I know I will. And you'll tell me every day."

"Oh, will I, now?"

"Mhm."

The swordsman scoffed without any bite, doing something with his fingers that made Sanji melt. "You're so cocky."

"Mhm," Sanji mumbled again, not even bothering to find out what he was agreeing to. He had better things to focus on. "Just... keep doing that."

He heard Zoro chuckle and then pretty much zoned out completely, tension bleeding from his muscles, letting Zoro move his head this way and that. His bathwater was tepid at this point; he didn't care. Zoro's hands were big and warm and as the bubbles drifted down to his shoulders, he finally realised what this bar was scented with.

Sandalwood suffused his senses, a deep creamy sweetness with an undercurrent of leather and earth. With what little wherewithal he had left, Sanji decided that it suited Zoro more than it did him. Maybe he'd try to convince the mosshead to take it for himself. A few kisses should be bribery enough. Fingertips dug beneath the bones just behind his ears, working until the ache dissipated, and Sanji felt his shoulders slump because God, that felt good.

He didn't know how long he sat there, drifting blissfully between sleep and Zoro's fingers scrubbing at his crown, gingerly detangling his hair, but if you had to ask him his answer would be not long enough. His eyes fluttered open when Zoro tapped his cheek, and he squinted at the light. "Wh—"

"Wake up, baby. Gotta rinse."

The pet name made something tucked inside his ribcage pull tight like a gasp, but Sanji just closed his eyes again. "Just a while longer..."

Zoro chuckled as Sanji's head lolled in his palm. "We should get you to bed."

"Noooooo." Was he whining? This was ridiculous. He really didn't care.

"You're a spoiled prince," Zoro said matter-of-factly.

"Your fault." Sanji discreetly cracked one eye open to gauge the swordsman's reaction and immediately closed it when he saw Zoro's expression, sucking in a hitched breath.

That was enough devotion in a glance to kill a man, and it tore through Sanji like a fucking bullet. Right through the ribs, in and out faster than he could stop it, so quick that he didn't even realise until his love was bleeding out of him, all over his hands, filling his mouth, colouring his teeth, honeyed at the back of his throat and finally he'd be able to see how much of it his heart held. He didn't mind. He didn't think he ever would, actually; he'd fill this bathtub with red if it meant that Zoro would see. If it meant that he would understand how every time he looked at Sanji like that it felt like he had Sanji's heart in his fist, his lungs in a vice, his goddamn life under his thumb.

Sanji had come to terms with it long ago. He put his soul in these battle-scarred hands every day and he trusted them to be gentle because he knew that they could, they would be, for him. Even now, Zoro took his weight easily, one palm at his nape and the other stopping suds from getting into his eyes and it meant far too much for something so simple, but that was just how it worked, wasn't it?

The cook swallowed hard, allowing himself one more moment before pushing up so Zoro wouldn't accidentally waterboard him. It would possibly be hilarious but he might also very possibly just die, considering how low his guard was. The thought made him laugh a little, strained with how his head was tipped back; he saw Zoro give him a weird look upside-down and decided that he was either more tired than he'd thought or he'd had more of the wine than he'd realised.

Zoro rinsed his hair quickly, but he was no less meticulous than he had been at the beginning. It was something that Sanji had refused to admit he admired at first, that single-minded intensity regarding the things Zoro cared about, and oh, wasn't that a thought? That he belonged within that distinction now. Sanji pulled his knees to his chest when the swordsman leaned over to grab the towel he had set out, scrunching the cook's hair dry as best he could and then dropping the fluffy white cloth over his head just to make him laugh.

The bottle of wine was relatively full when Sanji picked it up, holding it up to the light as Zoro dried his hair. "Guess I didn't finish it after all."

"Yeah, well." Zoro shrugged as he took it from him to put aside and tugged gently on a stray curl. "Nobody's gonna want it now that it has your spit in it."

Sanji scoffed. "You'd still drink it. You'd drink any booze."

"...Yeah, I would."

Zoro's eyes were a soft grey as he stood up. Sanji had a feeling that he could have left out the second part of that statement and the answer would still be the same.

He let Zoro pull him up out of the tub, wrap him in the towel and hold open the pair of briefs he'd left for him to step into. He held his arms up as Zoro pulled his soft sleep shirt over his head, brazen as if he didn't know full well the shirt was Zoro's to begin with. If it were any other time he might have protested against being helped to dress like a child— but for now he'd just refuse to admit that he enjoyed it, enjoyed being cared for, even in minute ways like this. Plausible deniability and all that.

Sanji didn't resist as the swordsman took his hand, leading him back to the men's quarters and tugging the covers up for him, patting them into place around his shoulders as he settled. The bed dipped by his hip where Zoro sat, and Sanji sighed as his damp bangs were brushed away from his face. Zoro liked seeing both his eyes, he'd noticed. Maybe he'd start wearing his hair back more often.

"Goodnight, cook," Zoro whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Sanji's temple.

Sanji's brain was full of cotton and sandalwood suds. He squeezed over underneath the blankets, cupping Zoro's face in his palms. "Stay."

The swordsman laughed under his breath. "Haven't showered."

Sanji considered letting him in anyway, but yep, nope, guess his brain wasn't that full of cotton. "Make it quick," he ordered, the effect broken by the massive yawn that interrupted his last word. Pulling Zoro down for a proper kiss was easier than breathing, the press of their lips just enough to wrap warmth over his skin like a blanket. "And use the soap from just now."

Zoro huffed at the words murmured against his mouth. "Spoiled."

"Your fault," Sanji yawned again, jabbing a finger into Zoro's chest before waving him away.

He heard his boyfriend's rumble of a laugh, smiled into his pillow as Zoro's acquiescence was brushed over his cheek, before the lamp was turned down and the door opened and shut. He'd been serious about Zoro being quick; they both slept better when they shared a bunk, and today had been more than enough of a shitshow for them to have earned a good night's rest.

Sanji snuggled down, fully intent on waiting.

He was asleep between one breath and the next.

(And if he woke briefly to curl closer when Zoro slid half-asleep into bed behind him, clean and warm and smelling of sandalwood, well. Neither of them would remember it in the morning.)

thank you for reading! part 2 where sanji takes care of zoro is already in the works, so keep your eyes peeled if you're interested :)

[blacklegsanjiii]

i absolutely adore your young sanji au!! If you don't mind, could you write more about him? Like, how did the other crews that know him react to his actual age? Or even some random interactions between the straw hats after finding out!

I'M TRYING TO BE ALIVE AGAIN I PROMISE I AM SO SORRY

Young!Sanji!!! Ahh, lovely boy, precious and soft and absolutely hating everyone find out how old he actually is. He feels no one takes him seriously after they find out. They always falter and stumble and it just...doesn't feel good to him?

I feel like Law finding out would full on make him trip and face plant into the ground because Robin probably mentions it off handedly but knowingly. She knows Sanji doesn't like Law calling him Stealth Black and this seems to be the quickest way for her to stop it. Sanji is walking ahead of them to a tea house somewhere while they're in Wano. Like she specifically phrases it in a way to show how cruel Judge is and when Law full stumbles it makes Sanji look and ask what's wrong. Law is stumbling up onto his feet and is confused and asks Sanji if he's really /seventeen/ and Sanji says he is with a shrug. Law knows he's not the youngest on the crew but understands because of his love of the Sora comics that they were closer to the truth than he had realized, even after the raid suit. Germa was far worse than he knew to even its own children. When they're sat and drinking tea, Law can't help but ask why he is physically not seventeen. Sanji just goes 'ahaha, that's Germa for you' and Law is reeling that the cook is also a child on the crew. Law doesn't really change how he acts with the cook though, he doesn't see his age, only his accomplishments which are numerable even if he was twenty one, he just admires the guy more now.

Sanji is not pleased at how people keep trying to baby him after finding out how old he is and how his family is, the rescue team is especially bad. Chopper keeps asking for more and more check ups on him and Sanji is trying to just deal with it, Zoro seems to be holding back during their spars when he doesn't have to be, when they're out at a bar he keeps stealing Sanji's drinks even though he's not even buzzed yet and Zoro hates wine. Zoro, for the life of him he doesn't want to view the cook differently, but finding out about the experiments and how young Sanji was when he went through everything that led him to Zeff makes him softer. He fucking hates it but he feels like he needs to give the cook an actual chance at being a child that was denied to him. Even if he didn't get a chance he and the other kids at the dojo did play as well as train, especially when they were younger, before he left and he plays with Luffy and Chopper all the time. So when he assists Robin and Nami with the cook and making the guy take breaks. He's started doing the dishes fully on his own and shoving the cook out of the kitchen after meals.

I feel like when Zeff found out his kid wasn't ten, his kid is six and looks ten. Zeff frowns deeply at the boy who acts like a ten year old in a lot of ways, most ways, a fucked up and traumatized one albeit, but he's still ten. Except he's not and Sanji's age really shows when people flirt or try to take him to their ships for activities more fitting for an adult or teenager. Except he's not one of those, he's twelve when someone first propositions him and Zeff loses it at the customer and talks to Sanji about what they're doing, what people want from him and that he gets to decide if he wants to or not. Because Sanji is physically four years older than he actually is and Zeff wants to kill the fucking bastard that did this to the kid. Zeff knows his kid is younger than he looks but he treats the boy like how he holds himself, he's smart, impulsive, thinks he owes his life to Zeff when he doesn't. Goddammit Zeff wants him to act like a damn kid but the kid doesn't want to! Kid feels like he can't because the kid needs to be useful so on the rare nights the Baratie is closed Zeff and the others will take the kid out to the upper deck or the top of the restaurant and teach him the constellations and if the kid falls asleep it's all the better.

The kid will never act his real age, but he has people to make sure he's taken care of. That's more than enough for Sanji.

[salty-says]

Here’s a cute little req I got. Ty @jamieyoo !!

I’m Falling For You

Zosan

Zoro yawned and cracked an eye open to spot the crew throwing the ladder over the edge of the Sunny, “Oi, where are you guys off to?” He asked gruffly.

“We’re just exploring this island a bit, looks abandoned,” Nami explained before hoping over the railing and climbing down.

Usopp followed after her but his head peeked up about to ask, “Are you coming Zoro?”

Zoro thought about it for a second, “Nah, I’m good staying here to nap. Abandoned island probably means no booze.”

Usopp rolled his eyes before mumbling to himself, “It’s always booze.”

“Now we have two people guarding the ship, see you don’t have to be so worried little doctor,” Robin said to a seemingly tense Chopper.

Chopper looked up at Robin then at Zoro then back to Robin, “Okay, I just worry that if left alone they’re going to tear each other apart, then tear the ship apart.”

“No need to worry doctor-bro. I’m sure Zobro and the Cook will do a super job of looking after Sunny,” Franky said before diving over the edge.

Chopper seemed to lighten at this and began his way to the ladder. Robin followed after but before descending looked at Zoro, “Swordsman-San.”

Zoro kept his eyes closed and grunted in response.

“You should use this time to tell Cook-san about your feelings,” Robin said plainly before disappearing down.

Zoro jolted upright, “HAH?!!” But by the time he opened his eyes she was gone, “Damn woman, got no clue what she’s talking about. Tch, give me a break. I have absolutely no interest in that idiot cook.”

Zoro leaned back once more as his arms folded behind his head and landed against the railing. He quickly fell back asleep the sun as his blanket.

A couple hours later Zoro woke up to the sound of knocking wood. Zoro’s eyebrows furrowed as he grimaced and opened his eyes, “What the?”

Over to his left Sanji stood on a ladder in front of the door to the galley. He was holding some party streamers and handing them over the door frame.

Zoro grumbled, “Oi Cook! Can you keep it down? Trying to sleep here.”

Sanji kept his body turned away from Zoro and kept hammering away which only angered Zoro further.

“COOK!” Zoro stood and shouted.

“WHAT?!” Sanji quit what he was doing and turned toward Zoro.

“Keep it down! There is another person on this ship having to listen to your annoying noise.”

Sanji rolled his eyes, “Oh, I’m sorry did I wake the grumpy Marimo from his nap? How rude of me!”

Zoro’s eye twitched as he approached the ladder and looked up at Sanji, “You listen here swirly brows I don’t want to hear it. I haven’t had booze in a week!”

Sanji scoffed, “Goddammit you stupid swordsman, can you stop thinking about alcohol for once and be useful by helping me set up for Chopper’s birthday?”

Zoro grumbled, “Sure whatever. But only for Chopper.”

Sanji was taken aback at this, “You being helpful? Am I dreaming?!”

“Oh, hush.”

Sanji narrowed his eyes and began to descend the ladder. The ladder started to shake and the bottom support broke off making Sanji tip and fall towards the ground.

Zoro with his reflexes opened his arms to catch him. Sanji yelped and shut his eyes awaiting impact but opened his eyes quickly when the ground didn’t come.

“You okay, Cook?” Zoro asked softly as he held Sanji close to his chest.

Sanji’s eyes widened as a hot blush appeared on his face, “F-fine…”

Zoro then set Sanji on the ground his hands on Sanji’s hips to keep him grounded. His fingers absentmindedly kneaded into Sanji’s skin.

Every part of Sanji was yelling at him to rip Zoro’s hands off of him, but he couldn’t. He could only stand there and stare into Zoro’s eyes.

“You sure you’re alright?” Zoro asked.

Sanji nodded as his hand found the exposed skin under Zoro’s shirt. Zoro’s cheeks burned as he leaned forward. Sanji followed suit.

Zoro closed his eyes as be gripped Sanji’s waist tighter.

“Zoro?” Sanji whispered with half lidded eyes.

“Shut up,” Zoro quickly connected their lips.

Sanji tensed before melting into the kiss. Zoro smiled against his lips and moved his hands up to cup Sanji’s cheeks, pulling him in closer. Sanji sighed and pulled away.

Sanji’s cheeks were tinted red. He breathed in deeply, “That…that didn’t mean anything. I didn’t mea-“

“Be quiet, Cook. Don’t need to hear your bullshit excuse,” Zoro’s eyes narrowed.

Sanji bit his lip and looked away.

“Let me see you,” Zoro demanded.

Sanji closed his eyes and kept his head turned away from Zoro.

“I said look at me!” Zoro gripped Sanji’s chin and turned his head to look at him. “There. Better. Now do you want to go talk about it or make out and then some?”

Sanji opened his mouth but no words came out.

“You’re taking too long,” Zoro lurched forward and pressed his lips against Sanji’s once more.

Sanji immediately kissed back. He felt Zoro’s tongue swipe past his lips. He parted his lips and Zoro’s tongue dove in. Sanji moaned and gripped Zoro’s shirt tugging him in closer.

They both pulled away catching their breaths.

“So my room or yours?”

[oneread]

Random hcs for kuina and zoro in a kuina lives au

- platonic x10000

-have begrudgingly pretended to be a couple for plans but they exclusively pretend to be a toxic couple on their way to divorce

-equally chaotic. She is NOT the voice of reason, there is no voice of reason. God is dead and they killed him for a klondike bar

-they become bounty hunters together pre-straw hats. They decide to run away as Kuina faces more and more pressure to be a ‘proper’ woman and stop training. They do end up lost/at loose ends and start taking bounties

-Demons of the East Blue “Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro” and “The Unshakeable Swordsman Kuina” bc she has a spectacular RBF

-They trade the three swords they have between them back and forth. Zoro aquires a fourth and starts perfecting three sword style. Eventually Kuina gives him Wado permanently because she wants to prove she can do things her way, including with swords that have no history

-mid to late puberty zoro makes a point to compare chest sizes and claims he’ll become the greatest swordsman WITH boobs bc he’s not a coward

-share clothes. In fact there is no his clothes and her clothes there’s just a pile on the floor or a bundle in the bottom of their backpacks that they grab from and sniff test each time they change

-this works bc he’s a smidge wider and she’s a bit taller. Around the post timeskip era she shoots up one last time and grows into her Tall Ass Wano Lady heritage. He of course gets bigger like in canon

-nap sitting up back to back often

-they also share a bed pretty often, a habit from their broke bounty hunter days, when they would do so to save money. Again it’s totally platonic but it infuriates Sanji to no end, which only makes them do it more

-kuina sort of bops in and out of the plot as they go while on her own training arc journey

-she’s def with them in wano, the bloodline connections alone would be hilarious

-kuina, standing between Kiku and Yamato: it feels like the universe is trying to tell me something I swear but I can’t figure out what it is goddammit but I can feel it in my bones (🏳️‍⚧️)

-armament heavy arm work zoro v armament heavy core work kuina (fueling her power from the whole body, since she doubts her upper body strength, also keeps her arms quick and her base steady). I just think it would be interesting to see them apply the same skills in a different was

-kuina has a great sense of direction and a stunning dyslexia/discalcula combo. Duo minmaxed for street smarts but they make up for each other so it’s fine

-Zoro still hates fighting Tashigi, because he sees her hesitance as an insult to female swordfighters and thinks she’s giving kuina a bad reputation. Literally no one else thinks they look similar, since Kuina stopped having a baby face like a decade ago

[thus-spoke-lo]

Bad Habits // modern AU!Roronoa Zoro x gn!reader

A/N: A little meet-cute prequel to @zimzalabimmmmm's want more than the tip i ain't talkin' bout guidance. Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox! CW: gn!reader (afab!reader in original work); cigarette smoking (reader and Zoro). WC: 1.5k

The sky was draped in hues of tangerine and fuchsia, the sun setting low in the distance, tucking itself in behind tall buildings, a glowing orb bisected by telephone wires. You balanced your laptop on your knees, hunched over the keyboard and squinting at the screen in the dying light of day in a way you knew you’d pay for later but at the moment felt like the only way that creativity could flow. As your fingers moved easily over the keyboard and you ignored the cramp that was settling in your wrist and the low battery alert that would have you cursing at your unsaved document in a short while, you heard a sound you had become unaccustomed to—the porch door of the apartment next door sliding open.

It had been weeks—no, months—since the last tenants moved out, and you had been enjoying the blissful silence of their absence. No more weekends-long parties, no more stereo blasting at all hours, no more shouting telephone conversations on their balcony at the crack of dawn. When you’d heard the tell-tale noises of furniture being shoved against walls and deep voices giving what sounded like directions, you’d smoked every cigarette you had left in the pack and baked yourself something painfully indulgent and sweet just to calm your nerves, preparing for another problem. But the days afterwards had been largely silent—you’d heard the front door open and shut, but it had otherwise been back to the calm you’d grown used to.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes trained on your screen, even though curiosity was getting the better of you—who was the new person that would be moving in your orbit? But deadlines were deadlines, and you didn’t have time to end up in some protracted conversation with a stranger who you’d probably only see now and again in the laundry room, no desire to make polite small talk with someone who would never remember your name anyway and conveniently “forget” to give you misdelivered packages even though they clearly didn’t order anything from that company.

“Goddammit. Fucking shit.”

The voice was low and rough, and sounded tired—not just tired, but exhausted, like something had worn him down to a nub. You turned your head slowly, eyebrows raised, hands frozen in place, fingers hovering just above the keyboard. Fuck, he was—he was something. He held an unlit cigarette in one hand, his other running through mossy-green hair, a grimace on his face as he stared at the underside of the balcony upstairs and sighed. You bit your lip as your eyes drifted down to the muscled body that seemed to have been poured into his t-shirt, black jeans hanging low on lean hips.

You slowly closed your laptop, and the soft click caught his attention. He looked over at you, and quickly painted a smile on his face and gave you a huff of a laugh.

“Sorry,” he said, his thick arms hanging loosely at his sides. “Rough day.”

“It’s all good,” you shrugged, feeling your stomach flip just slightly, setting your laptop down on the ground beside you. The glint of the setting sun caught on something, and your eyes were drawn to three gold earrings that he wore on one side, their subtle movement a welcome distraction from his sculpted body; the last thing you needed was to be branded the creepy neighbor who stared at him a little too lustily.

He gestured towards the ashtray sitting on the table beside you. “Got a light? Mine's out.”

“Oh! Sure, here.” You fished your lighter from your jeans pocket and walked to the railing, holding it out to him from across the small gap the separated your balconies. He grasped it gingerly, then shook your outstretched hand; he was strong, with a firm, warm grip that lit a spark at the base of your spine. He smelled like sweat and too much cheap drug-store body spray, in a way you found at once immature and charming.

“Zoro. Nice to meet you.”

You stood, your hand still holding his, your lips parted as you struggled for a moment to remember your own name before quickly blurting it out and scurrying to sit back down, as far away from him as you could manage.

“You just moved in, yeah?” you asked, chewing the side of your tongue and wishing you had asked something with a less obvious answer. It was almost intoxicating, watching him light his cigarette and close his eyes to take that first drag, how his hardened body seemed to loosen as he blew the smoke out into the evening. It was almost something reverent.

He nodded in reply. “Yeah, last week.”

“You’re quiet.” You smiled, chuckling softly to yourself. “Sure as shit better than the last people that lived there, blasting their stereo all hours of the goddamned night.”

“Ah, well, I was out of town for a few days, I’ll be back for a while now.” He grinned, a glimmer of something devious in his eyes. “I promise I won’t make you hate living next door to me, though.”

“Do you travel for work?” It was selfish, but you eagerly hoped meant the apartment might be left unoccupied for stretches, leaving you to your quiet—though you were starting to think you wouldn’t mind having him around.

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool. What do you do?”

“Oh, you know.” Zoro paused as he took a long drag, held it in his lungs for a moment before letting it out through his teeth. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that.”

“So…like a freelancer?”

“You could say that, yeah.” It was clear this this was the most you were going to collect from him about his occupation tonight—not without risking ruining whatever you were building here together. “What about you?”

You gestured to your laptop. “I write.”

“Yeah?” He rested his forearms on the railing and leaned forward towards you. “Have I read anything of yours?”

“Depends.” You crossed your arms over your chest at the slight invasion into your little bubble. “You into romance novels?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then you haven’t.”

“And what if I want to catch up on your work?”

You feigned an exasperated sigh. “Well, go to the book and magazine section of any grocery store and look for a cover with a busty, windswept woman and a tanned, buff, shirtless guy, and you’ve got a good shot that it’s probably one of mine.”

“Is that so? You’re that popular, eh?”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You fiddled with the hem of your sweatshirt as your ears started to burn. “Sometimes quantity pays the bills more than quality.”

“Who’s that?”

“Huh?” You glanced down to where his gaze had landed—at the little soot-black feline perched in the doorway, carefully assessing the situation. “Oh! That’s Bunny. Say ‘hi,’ Bunny—be polite, that’s our new neighbor.”

Bunny glared at you both with a typical amount of disdain before retreating back into your apartment, unimpressed with whatever was going on between the two of you.

“Bunny, huh?” Zoro blew smoke into the air and a wry grin crept up the corners of his mouth. “Weird name for a cat.”

You narrowed your eyes, mock-offended on Bunny’s behalf. “Yeah, well, Zoro’s a weird name for a guy.”

“Guess he and I have something in common, then.”

A comfortable silence enveloped you both as the sun gave its last sigh and dipped below the horizon, a hazy cobalt now stretched across the expanse above you. A few stray cicadas sang in the distance, a rhythmic buzzing that mixed with the low sounds of the neighbors around you, the hums of tv’s and dinnertime conversations leaking out from cracked windows and open doors. You watched him as he flicked ash off the railing and wondered just how you could will him to hop the gap and join you—to sit together under the flickering porch light until the stars faded and the moon shook hands with the sun and traded places for another day.

“Thanks for this,” Zoro said out of the corner of his mouth, the last stub of his cigarette dangling from his lips. He held your lighter aloft, eyebrows raised, as if to offer it back to you.

You shrugged, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “You can keep it.”

“You sure?” he smirked as he flexed his bicep, stretching the cuffed arm of his shirt. “You don’t even need to get up, I’ve got a good throwin’ arm.”

“I’m a better pitcher than a catcher. Besides, I’m trying to quit, anyway.”

“That so?” He could see through your fib, one as flimsy as the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Yeah. You know how it goes.” You avoided his gaze as he stubbed out his cigarette on the concrete floor, and you watched the last trails of smoke filter into the night. “Just a bad habit to break.”

And another bad habit you were about to acquire.

[thewillofdeez]

Twenty Questions - A Goth Fam One-shot with just a smidge of OC romance

Summary: A few weeks after arriving on Kuraigana, Perona is desperate to get to know her mysterious host. After much pestering, she gets him to agree to twenty questions.

Lightweight one-shot goth fam fun. Notes can be found on my AO3 account under the same username.

Word count: 7k

The woman was like a fly. Or a mosquito. Something that was annoyingly persistent and had absolutely no survival sense to back off lest it be squashed. Her ability to fly only served to further the analogy. Mihawk had certainly considered squashing her before. He wondered if there was a place where he could buy a giant fly swatter, if for no other reason than to send a message.

It wouldn’t be so bad if her focus wasn’t on him all the damn time. Perona barraged him with questions about himself, his life, his past, constantly every damn day. But Mihawk liked to keep things close to his chest. He didn’t like giving out information about himself unless it was necessary, both for his own safety and because, frankly, it was no one else’s business. He would give opinions, insights, sure, but anything that was about him specifically, about his past, about what made him tick…that was for him and a very few, select set of people. Perona was not one of them. Neither was Zoro.

In the few weeks since Mihawk had returned from Marineford, Perona’s prying into his personal life had ramped up from the occasional probe to see how he’d respond, to becoming more and more insistent. He was beginning to regret letting her stay, but he also didn’t feel he could kick her out either. The man wasn’t a total monster - she and Zoro had filled him in on what happened at Thriller Bark. He knew she had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. That damned compassion that he tried constantly to suppress, he supposed, got the better of him. But she sure was pushing her luck.

Perona, for her part, didn’t get why Mihawk was so reluctant to talk about himself. She knew he wasn’t thrilled about his new houseguests, and he made that clear pretty much every day. But she felt like he was making it harder on himself by making no effort to get to know her and Zoro. She’d tried to tell him about herself, hoping that might get him to open up, but he’d frequently silence her with a raised hand and a firm “I don’t care.” She wanted to believe that he was just afraid of getting attached to them. Yeah, that was it. Totally.

And yet she also couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. Why didn’t he like her? She was very likable! She was cute and funny and charming, goddammit! The cold shoulder was decidedly un-cute, and she was determined to put an end to it.

On a rainy evening at Kuraigana, Mihawk sat in his chair before the roaring fireplace, a book in his lap and the castle quiet except for the patter of rain against glass. It was too quiet, perhaps. Mihawk looked around the room. Zoro was on the couch flipping through a book of his own and munching on a rice ball. He didn’t seem to be reading it, just perusing. Typical, Mihawk thought.

Perona was nowhere to be found, and that meant trouble. He briefly wondered if he should go looking for her to make sure she wasn’t getting into anything she wasn’t supposed to, or if he should just enjoy the peace while it lasted. He chose the latter, positive it would end sooner or later.

“Mihawk,” Perona said, her face suddenly dangling upside down in front of him in a wave of pink hair. And there it is, he thought, huffing out a sigh.

“Mihawk, I have a proposition for you.” Perona flipped right side up and crossed her legs as though she was sitting on the floor, while floating in front of him at eye level.

“Hmmpf. Not interested,” Mihawk replied, lazily turning the page of his book and ignoring her.

Perona ignored him. “Twenty questions.” Mihawk looked up from his book with a raised eyebrow. “Twenty questions?”

Perona nodded. “I get to ask you twenty questions of my choice, and you answer them. If you can do that - just give me twenty - I’ll never bother you for more information about yourself ever again. Promise. Pirate’s honor.”

Mihawk scoffed. “First of all, the promise of ‘pirate’s honor’ is shaky, at best, as many pirates have no sense of honor, or at least a questionable one, and I don’t know if you’re one of them.”

Perona puffed her cheeks in anger. “Well you might know if you took the time to get to know me and–”

“And second of all,” Mihawk said, cutting her off, “I don’t believe you anyway. I don’t believe for a second that, if I did answer your twenty questions, you’d be satisfied. You’d keep nagging me for more information. I won’t give you an inch so you can take a mile.”

“Actually, I think you should do it,” Zoro cut in, his voice slightly muffled as he chewed on the rice ball. “She did the same thing to me when we got here. I gave her some answers and she backed off. And the things I didn’t want to answer she didn’t push me on. Throw her a bone and she’ll be satisfied.” Zoro didn’t mention that he also, somewhat selfishly, wanted to know more about their mysterious host, and fully supported the pink-haired pirate’s quest for information, even if he wasn’t interested in being involved in it himself.

“Thank you, Zoro,” she said. “See? I have self-control. I just also would like to know more about the person I’m spending an indefinite amount of time with. Come on, Mihawk…please?”

Mihawk looked at Perona, her eyes wide and lips in a pout in what he imagined was supposed to be a sad puppy dog face. He glanced at Zoro, who only shrugged. Mihawk sighed. “Fine. But here are my terms. Yes or no questions only. How much or how little I elaborate is up to me.”

“Fine,” Perona replied, thrilled at her own progress. “But then I get to ask follow up questions about ten of them that don’t count towards the twenty.”

“Absolutely not,” Mihawk replied. “I’ll allow you to ask for more information on three questions only.”

“Eight,” Perona replied.

“Two”.

“Six.”

“One.”

Perona narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t how negotiating works, ya know! You’re supposed to be trying to meet me in the middle!”

“Take it or leave it,” Mihawk said, not backing down.

“Fine!” Perona said, frustrated. “I’ll take the three, geeze.” Perona floated away for a moment and came back with a small notebook in hand, settling down on the couch next to Zoro. “Ready?” she asked.

“I suppose,” Mihawk replied. “But one more thing. Everything I tell you about myself, no matter how insignificant a detail is, does not leave this castle. Ever. I keep things to myself for a reason, and I’m only giving you what you want so I can live in my own house in peace. That goes for you too, Roronoa. None of this makes its way to your crewmates or anyone else. Are we clear?”

Perona nodded enthusiastically. “You got it! Promise!”

Zoro nodded as well. “Whatever secrets you have are safe with me.”

It seems Perona’s frustration had dissipated and now she was just happy to get what she wanted. Perona opened the notebook. “I wasn’t expecting the yes or no stipulation, so I’ll have to re-word some of these. Let’s get started!”

Mihawk sighed and sipped his wine. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

“Question #1,” she began, “Did you become the World’s Greatest Swordsman when you were…” she thought for a minute, rewording the question in her head, “Let’s say younger than Zoro?”

Mihawk turned to Zoro. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he said, “Almost twenty.”

“Then yes,” Mihawk responded, “I was younger than Zoro is now.”

Perona jotted something down in her notebook. “Great. Question #2. Do you have a best friend?”

“Yes. Two, actually.” Perona and Zoro both raised their eyebrows in what Mihawk thought might have been surprise at the fact that two people liked him enough to be his best friend.

“Question #3” she continued, “Do you have any talents or hobbies, aside from what we know about?”

Mihawk thought for a moment. “I do, yes.”

Silence overtook the three. They stared at each other.

“If you want more information, you’ll have to ask for it. I’m not going to just give it to you.”

Perona sighed dramatically. “Fine! Request for more information.”

Mihawk smirked. “One down, two left. Well, you know I enjoy farming and cooking. I can play a few different instruments, some quite well and others not so much. I enjoy learning other languages and am fluent in several.”

“What instruments do you play best?” Zoro asked.

“Guitar and violin, probably,” he responded. “I’m fond of strings.”

“Do you collect anything?” Perona asked.

“Hmmm. Nothing I would formally consider a collection, no, at least not in the sense of collecting coins or old magazines or anything like that. But I do have quite a lot of knives of different styles and makes from all over the world. I enjoy buying and trading art. And I enjoy filling out the wine cellar, though I can’t really claim that collection as ‘mine’ since so much of it was here when I moved in.”

“Is there anything you’re really bad at,” asked Zoro, “Or that you really don’t like to do?”

“I’ve never been great at the visual arts,” Mihawk admitted, “Though not for lack of trying. I don’t particularly care for organized athletics, though I do admire the people who play them. And I hate golf. More than most things, I hate golf.”

“Have you ever played mini golf, though?” Zoro asked excitedly. “I agree about regular golf, but mini golf is fun.”

“Do I look like I’m twelve to you? No, I’ve never played mini golf, and have no intention to.”

Zoro shrugged. “Your loss.”

Perona giggled. “The image of you trying to putt a ball through a windmill is kind of hilarious.”

“I’m glad you find it amusing,” Mihawk deadpanned, cringing internally at how much he had just given away, even if the information was harmless. “Is that all?”

Zoro and Perona nodded at each other, then Perona spoke. “Yup. We can continue. Question #4. That cross you wear around your neck…”

“The stabby cross,” Zoro cut in, remembering the time he felt its point in his flesh.

“Yeah, the stabby cross. Do you wear it because you're religious?”

“Ha!” Mihawk laughed. “No, not at all. I’m not arrogant enough to say there is definitively no higher power that exists, but I do lean that way. Agnostic, perhaps, might be the right word. It doesn’t matter to me one way or another if there is a God.”

“Then why do you wear it?” Zoro cut in.

“Zoro! You used up one of my questions!” Perona huffed, fists on her hips. She then flipped through her notebook and made a number of angry scribbles.

“Sorry! I’m just curious.”

Mihawk lifted the cross that hung on his chest, turning it in his hands and examining it. “It was a gift, a long time ago. It also suits my personal style. And I do quite enjoy the look on peoples’ faces when they realize it’s actually a knife. That never gets old.” He looked pointedly at Zoro, smiling slyly. Zoro frowned angrily.

“Question number….six, I guess, thanks, Zoro” began Perona, ignoring the exchanged looks. “Is there anything you’re afraid of, like a phobia or something?”

“Hmmm,” Mihawk pondered, mulling over how to answer that one. “I’d say no, not in the sense that I believe you’re asking anyway. But there are certainly things that make me uncomfortable.”

“Are you gonna tell us what?” she pressed.

“Is that a request for more information?” Mihawk responded, eyebrow raised.

“Hmmph. No, I guess it’s not worth using another request for info this early in the game unless it’s really good. Anyway. Question #7. Have you ever been dangerously close to death? Like, actively dying close?”

“Yes, actually,” he said. “I was a rather frail child, and got sick quite frequently up until I was around 9 or 10 years old. I’ve been on the verge of death from things as boring as pneumonia several times. Since then, however, no, I haven’t knocked on death’s door to quite the same extent.”

More scribbles. Mihawk was desperately starting to wonder why she felt the need to take notes. He’d have to burn that notebook when he got the chance.

“Question #8,” Perona started, looking back up at him. “You don’t have a crew of your own right now, but have you ever worked on another pirate’s crew?”

Mihawk looked up in thought. “That’s a bit complicated. When I was much younger I did sail on someone else’s crew, yes. But I’ve purposely never aligned myself with anyone else from the moment where I had a choice. Does that make sense?”

Zoro nodded. “I get it. It was a situation you were in, not necessarily something done out of loyalty to a particular captain. Right?”

Mihawk nodded. “That’s a good way to put it, yes.”

“Question #9, then," Perona continued. "Related. Have you ever had your own crew, or do you want to?”

“Hmm,” Mihawk replied, “That sounds like questions nine and ten to me.”

“What?!” she huffed. “No, there’s two clauses, separated by a comma and followed by a single question mark. It’s one question with two parts. So nyeh.” Perona crossed her arms over her chest, proud of her retort.

Mihawk chuckled. “Fair point, I suppose I can’t argue with your grammar. No and no. I could very easily amass a crew of my own if I wanted, but I don’t care for the responsibility of being a captain, and have nothing to gain from doing so.”

Onto Question #10 then,” said Perona. “Do you have any living relatives?”

“I do, yes,” Mihawk replied.

Zoro and Perona looked at each other. “Think we should use another request for more information?” Zoro asked.

Perona thought for a second. “I think so. Okay, tell us about your family.”

Mihawk sipped his wine. “The only living family I have are my parents. You’ve met them, Zoro. In Sabaody.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed in thought for just a second, before the realization dawned on him. “You don’t mean…”

Mihawk only nodded. Zoro laughed. “No way!”

“What?” Perona inquired, looking between the two men. “What’s so funny? Tell me, come on!”

Still chuckling, Zoro answered. “Mihawk’s dad is Silvers Rayleigh.”

Perona’s jaw dropped. “THE Silvers Rayleigh? Dark King Rayleigh? Is your dad??”

Mihawk nodded. “Indeed.” He decided he didn’t need to provide any information about his mother’s past unless asked.

Perona was shocked. This was more dirt than she could have ever dreamed of.

“So that must mean you grew up on Gold Roger’s ship?” Zoro asked, doing the math in his head.

“I did,” Mihawk responded. “From the time I was born until I was thirteen and went off on my own, much to the distress of my mother.”

“Do you see them often?” Perona asked.

“Maybe once a year or so. My mother and I will call each other occasionally, but they have their own lives and I have mine. I don’t always get along very well with my father, so when I visit it’s generally for my mother’s sake. But we’re usually cordial to one another regardless.”

Perona decided not to push the topic, figuring that Mihawk had given her more than enough and probably wouldn’t appreciate her digging into his daddy issues. “Okay then! And we’re halfway done. Question #11. Do you like being a Warlord?”

Mihawk huffed. “‘Like’ is certainly not the word I would use, no. I appreciate the freedom the position grants me, but I also have no love or loyalty for the World Government. The other Warlords feel much the same way, it’s about the only thing we can all agree on. It’s a trade-off.”

“Question #12. Do you support the Revolutionary Army?”

“Hmmm, an interesting question,” Mihawk said. “In theory, in belief, yes, I do believe in what they’re doing. But…if you’re asking me whether or not I’m personally a member of the Revolutionary Army….do you really think I would tell you if I was?”

“So much for your theory, Zoro,” Perona grumbled, making notes. Yes, that notebook would definitely have to burn.

Zoro only shrugged. “It woulda made sense.” Mihawk hid his grin in his wine glass.

“Question #13. When Zoro is eventually ready to challenge you for your title, will you actually kill him?”

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Zoro said before Mihawk could speak. “Why are you assuming that I’m the one who’ll be dying?”

“No offense, Zoro,” Perona said, “But I mean…come on. Look at the guy. I’ve seen you out there training….you’re great, but you’re not him. Not yet, anyway.” Zoro huffed and crossed his arms in response.

Mihawk didn’t even try to hide his amused smirk. “Yes, I will kill Zoro eventually. Or perhaps he’ll kill me, but I doubt it. We’ll see how he’s doing when the time comes. But whether it’s two years from now or twenty, one of us will die, there’s no doubt about that.”

“And you’re both just…okay with that?” Perona replied.

Mihawk and Zoro nodded, at each other then her. “Of course,” Mihawk said, “It’s the nature of passing on the title of World’s Greatest Swordsman. I killed the man who held the title before me, and he did the same before him, going back hundreds of years. One day someone will do the same to me and claim the title. Whether it’s Zoro or someone else, I do not know. But it will, in all likelihood, happen one day.”

Perona looked back and forth between the two men. “How…how can you just sit here, together, knowing one of you will kill the other like it’s nothing? How are you both so….okay with this?!”

“It’s part of being a swordsman, Perona,” Zoro said. “Not all swordsmen want Mihawk’s title, but for those of us who do, we know how it goes. We know that it’s kill or be killed, and to fall to the World’s Greatest Swordsman…I mean it sucks, yeah, I never want to lose….but it’s a risk I have to take, and there are worse ways to go. I’d much rather die in an honorable battle by Mihawk’s sword than by anyone else’s.”

Perona turned to Mihawk. “And you’re just…fine with this too? You agreed to train Zoro, knowing what he wants to do? Like it’s no big deal?”

Mihawk nodded. “I did. And it is a big deal, to be sure. I would not have agreed to train him if I didn’t believe he had potential to be the next in line. I won’t deny this…arrangement is certainly unorthodox. But I also believe there’s a reason he’s here. And, I suppose, you as well.”

“Hmmm…okay, but what about this: Hypothetically, what if you and Zoro fight, and he just….defeats you without killing you? If you know you’re beaten, why not just surrender and save your own life?”

“An admirable desire,” Mihawk said gently, “But that just isn’t the way it works.”

But it could be, right?” she pressed. “I mean, there’s no rule saying it can’t. It’s only a bunch of dead guys telling you otherwise.”

“Perona,” added Zoro, trying to explain. “For people like me and Mihawk, defeat is a fate worse than death. It’s better to go out knowing you fought honorably than to live knowing you were defeated. Mihawk’s already beaten me once. I took him on before I was ready and I made a vow that day that no one, either him or anyone else, would ever defeat me again. I’d rather die than live with breaking that vow. He feels the same.”

Mihawk nodded in agreement. “It’s about honor, Perona. Honor and pride. These concepts are inextricably linked with swordsmanship, they’re things we value above all else. Do you understand now why, when the time comes, there can be no peaceful resolution?”

Perona huffed out a sigh and sunk into the sofa, her arms crossed. “Yeah…I get it. I still want to tell you that it’s stupid, and that your lives are more important than your pride, but…I get it. And I respect it, I guess. Whatever.” Mihawk and Zoro both chuckled. “I just hate knowing that I’m gonna end up going to one of your funerals one day and it’ll be the other person’s fault. And I love funerals! But I like you both, and this one is gonna suck.”

“Don’t dwell on it for now, ghost girl,” Mihawk said with an unusually soft smile. “It will be a very, very, very long time before Zoro is truly ready to face me in battle.”

“Ya got enough ‘verys’ in there, Mihawk?” Zoro said with a sour look. Mihawk only grinned smugly.

“Ugh dammit,” Perona whined, slapping her fists on the sofa. “And I guess I just used up a request for more information too.”

“No,” Mihawk said, “I think that was an important discussion to have. You still have one left. Now, onto the next question.”

“Perona, can I ask one?” Zoro said.

Perona checked her notebook. “Hmmm, yeah I think I can spare a question, but it better be good. What is it?” Zoro leaned over and whispered in her ear. Mihawk looked on curiously. “Ohhhhh! Yes, go ahead.”

Zoro grinned. “Great! Question #14. You told me once that you and Shanks used to be rivals. Even with one arm, knowing how strong of a pirate he is, do you think you could beat him in a fight today?”

Mihawk chuckled. “That is a good question, Zoro. But it’s the wrong question.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the question isn’t could I defeat him or could he defeat me, it’s why would I bother fighting him in the first place?”

“I don’t understand,” said Perona.

“Well, look at it from my perspective,” Mihawk said. “Say Shanks and I do fight, which we wouldn’t because I don’t fight opponents who aren’t at their full strength. But…hypothetically. It’s a losing situation for me either way. If I win, well, I defeated a swordsman with one arm, big deal. But if I lose…if I lost to a one-armed swordsman…that would be devastating. Sure, I would go out honorably, knowing I lost to a superior opponent, but personally, given my history with the man….” Mihawk shuddered at the thought. “It’s simply not worth the risk.”

“Okay, I get that,” Zoro said. “But all that aside. Do you think you could defeat him, yes or no?”

Mihawk pondered this. “I genuinely don’t know, as much as I hate to admit it. I don’t fear Shanks, he’s one of my closest friends, but if it came down to it, he’s also the most powerful Haki user in the world. I see no shame in admitting that as strong as mine is, his is miles stronger, even if I am the better swordsman. We’ve always been so evenly matched, and that’s part of what I enjoyed about battling him. When we were younger, our fights would rage on for days until we had no choice but to call a draw. Dozens of times we’ve fought with no victor. If he wanted my title, it's certainly possible that he could take it from me, or at least put up a good fight in the process.” Mihawk shrugged. “But I also know he’d never do that, so I don’t really think about it.”

“Question #15, then!” Perona said. “Have you ever considered eating a Devil Fruit?”

“Absolutely not,” Mihawk scoffed. “I don’t need some kind of magical power to become stronger or achieve my goals. My strength as a swordsman speaks for itself. I also have very little respect for Devil Fruit users as a whole. It feels like cheating in a way, like having power you haven’t done anything to earn.”

“What? Hey!” Perona cried. “That’s not fair! I could be strong even without my Devil Fruit power!” In her anger, Perona sent a flurry of hollows through Mihawk’s chest. Over the past few weeks, Mihawk had been building up an immunity to her ghosts. It still wasn’t pleasant, but he could handle them without letting her know he was affected. As the ghosts passed through him, his expression remained stoic, but inside he was dying a little. Mihawk shook it off as quickly as he could, and a thought occurred to him.

“How old were you when you ate the Hollow-Hollow Fruit, Perona?” he asked.

Perona’s jaw dropped a little. Did he…just ask her a question? About herself? Perona resisted the urge to get all starry eyed over her progress. “I was about nine,” she replied, as calmly as she could.

“Hmmf,” Mihawk replied. “I meant no offense, Perona. I do have more sympathy for people in your situation, and I don’t carry the same lack of respect. It’s surprisingly common for children to eat Devil Fruits without knowing what they are or at least fully grasping the consequences. I know Luffy is one of them,” Mihawk nodded to Zoro. “Buggy was too. But many more people make the active choice to curse themselves in the pursuit of power or wealth or whatever else. Those are the people I tend to look down upon. Though, I will admit, there are a few exceptions for whom I carry quite a lot of respect.”

Perona looked down, hiding her smile. She felt like she had finally cracked his tough exterior, just the tiniest bit, and she felt proud. “I can understand that. Let’s move on. Question #16. Do you have a girlfriend?” Mihawk was about to answer when Perona cut him off “OR…a boyfriend?” With so few questions remaining, she had to fit in as much as she could.

Mihawk narrowed his golden eyes. “No.”

“Hmmmm,” Perona pondered, looking at her notebook. He saw her scribble a few things, but he couldn’t tell what. Zoro looked over her shoulder with interest. “Question #17. Do you have anyone you’re romantically interested in, maybe someone you’d like to have as your girlfriend-slash-boyfriend?”

Mihawk huffed and looked towards the fire. “...Yes. There is someone.”

“Request for more info!!!” Perona cried excitedly. “Tell us more!”

“What would you like to know?” Mihawk asked begrudgingly, regretting giving her that freebie earlier.

Well, how did you meet? How long have you known each other?”

“We met about twelve years ago or so,” Mihawk began. “I had been caught by Marines. An Admiral. This was before I was a Warlord, so I was still considered fair game at the time. He was a powerful opponent, but given our earlier discussion on pride and defeat, I’m sure you can imagine how…humiliated I felt. I was in a cell in shackles waiting to be transported to Enies Lobby. And she was the other person in my cell. We knew we’d be on a ship to be judged for our crimes in the morning, and so the whole night we just…talked. About everything and nothing. She was clever and wise, and made me think of things I’d never once considered. And she was so easy to talk to….”

Mihawk looked down at the glass of wine in his hand. “Anyway, morning came, and I made some joke about how it had been fun, and maybe I’d see her in prison. And she looked straight at me and said ‘No, you won’t. We’re getting out of here.’ Turns out she had a Devil Fruit power, one the Marines didn’t know about at the time so they didn’t put her in sea prism stone cuffs. She slipped out of the cuffs, out of the cell, and set me free. I was….flabbergasted. Then I was angry. I asked her why the hell she had let me sit there for hours thinking we were caught when she could have always gotten us out and she said, ‘I’m sorry, I was just really enjoying talking to you.’ And…no one had ever said that to me before. So we escaped, and have been friends ever since. I consider her among my best friends, actually, and she considers me hers.”

“Ahhh, so she’s one of those exceptions to the no-respect-for-Devil Fruit-users rule you mentioned before?” Zoro asked.

Mihawk nodded. “She is.”

“And you want to be more than friends with her?” Perona pressed.

“Ideally, yes,” he replied.

“Does she feel the same?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you planning on telling her?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But why???” Perona whined. “If you have feelings for her, you should let her know!”

Mihawk sighed. “It’s not that simple. I’m…not good with people, if you haven’t been able to tell. Never have been. But she and I, we clicked. I value our friendship for what it is, not what it could be. If it ever didn’t work out between us, or if I told her how I felt and she didn’t feel the same….I won’t gamble what we do have in hopes of having something else. It’s not worth the risk to me. I have her in my life, maybe not in the capacity that I want, but I do have her. And that has to be enough for me.”

Perona was stunned. “Wow. Okay, but what if she told you she felt the same? Would that be different?”

Mihawk shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t say I wouldn’t be happy, but the fear of messing it up would always be there. I have a good thing…I don’t want to ruin it.”

“You don’t think you’re capable of being a good partner,” Zoro said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Mihawk replied, slightly taken aback by the younger swordsman’s rather perceptive statement. “I don’t. I’m far too selfish for that. She deserves a much better man than I.”

“What if she fell in love with someone else?" Perona asked. "Would you be more inclined to tell her then?”

“Perona,” Mihawk said, exasperated, “This isn’t a romance novel, it’s real life. I’m not going to…to break into her wedding and confess my love to her and beg her to choose me. She’s had a number of relationships over the years, as have I. Some more casual than others…or entirely casual for me, I suppose. I’m no stranger to seeing her have affections for someone else. And yes, it hurts…like hell sometimes, honestly. Sometimes…I wish she would notice the way I look at her. I wish she’d realize how much faster my heart beats when she’s around. I wish she’d realize how perfect we’d be together...” Mihawk trailed off, before snapping himself out of his thoughts. He’d said far, far too much, but he didn’t often get the opportunity to talk about this and it was all just coming out. Only Shanks knew the true extent of his feelings….and Zoro and Perona did now too, he supposed. “But I have no claim over her. I never will.”

“What do you like about her?” Zoro asked, trying to bring the topic back from the brink. “Like, what is it about her that draws you to her, over anyone else?”

Mihawk smiled. “Well, she’s certainly beautiful. But I’ve met a lot of beautiful women, that’s nothing. She’s smart, wickedly so. She loves philosophy, and can talk about it for hours. She and I have talked about the most minute details of what it means to be human, what it means to exist in this world…I can talk to her for hours on end. And she’s kind, that’s another thing I love about her. She’s so talented in so many different things, and she encourages me to try things I never would have done before. She….I feel like she brings out the best in me.”

“Do you get to see her often?” Perona asked, smiling softly, so happy to have brought this out of her host.

“It depends,” he replied. “We try to make time to see each other, but she’s a pirate as well. She has her own crew, her own obligations and goals. We do call each other somewhat regularly though.”

“Hmmm. You should call her. Invite her to come visit.”

“Ha!” Mihawk laughed. “What, so you can play matchmaker? Please. How stupid do you think I am?”

Perona huffed. “Well fine then! It was just an idea! But….I still think you should tell her.”

Mihawk remained silent for a few moments. “Perhaps one day. Perhaps you’re right. I suppose I’m not doing myself any favors…” Mihawk shook his head, removing the idea from his mind. “Now, have you done enough digging into my love life? Can we move on?”

“I guess,” Perona said. “Let’s move on. Question #18. Do you believe in fate? Or destiny, or anything like that?”

“I do, to an extent,” he replied thoughtfully. “I believe that there are certain key points in the world that are destined to happen, but how exactly we go about getting to them is not written in stone. Luffy, for example, may very well be destined to become King of the Pirates. I’m not ready to put all my money on him just yet, but I do believe it’s possible if not likely - as annoying as I, personally, find that to be. But on his way there, he’s going to break every rule and subvert every expectation along the way.” Zoro smiled, proud that his mentor saw such promise in his captain and his crew.

“Question #19,” Perona continued. “Have you ever done anything really, really stupid while drunk?”

Mihawk laughed. “Oh, yes, especially when I was younger and spent a lot of time with Shanks. I have so many stories I could tell you.”

“Request for more information!!” Perona cried.

“Nope,” said Mihawk with a grin.

“No?”

“You’ve used up your three,” he said, smirking. “That’s all you get for this question.”

Perona’s face turned red. Zoro held back a laugh. “But…I…. UGH!!! FINE! Last one then, I guess. Question #20. Do you….I mean, are you…UGH! Sorry, I’m having trouble figuring out how to word this as a yes or no.”

“Eh,” Mihawk said. “We’re almost done, and you’ve already taken a pickaxe to some of the most closely guarded details of my life. I’ll give you this last one, no yes or no required.” He didn’t say that he had actually been quite enjoying himself.

“Really? Thanks, Mihawk! Okay, what would you say is your biggest motivator in being a pirate?”

“Freedom,” he answered. “I don’t much care for money or power except as far as it serves my ability to live freely. Everything I do is more or less towards that purpose. Frankly, I don’t trust any pirate who believes otherwise.”

Mihawk watched as Perona scribbled something. “Okay then,” she said with a smile. “We’re done. See that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

“Hmph,” Mihawk replied. “I suppose not. What have you been writing in there, by the way? Remember, everything I’ve told you is confidential. That cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

“Don’t worry, Mihawk. I didn’t write down anything sensitive. I just like knowing about people, and writing it down helps me figure them out.”

“You promised that twenty questions was all you’d get and you wouldn’t ask me anything else about myself for as long as you’re here,” he responded. “Do you feel like you’ve gotten enough information to figure me out, then?”

Perona thought for a moment. “I think I’m on my way. But I intend to keep my promise. Any other pieces of the Mihawk puzzle I get will either be picked up through observation or openly volunteered by you. Promise.”

That was satisfactory enough of a response, Mihawk supposed, especially for as late as the evening had gotten. “Good enough. Goodnight then, Perona. Zoro. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Mihawk,” they responded.

“And Mihawk?” Perona called after him. Mihawk turned wordlessly. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” He then nodded and exited the living room.

Mihawk opened the massive door to his bedroom and made his way towards the sitting area where a number of transponder snails sat sleepily on a table. He kicked off his boots and picked up a particular snail. Then, settling down in a comfortable armchair, he lifted up the receiver. The familiar badabadabada repeated several times, then cuh-lick.

“Well hello there, Mihawk” a feminine voice said, her sly smile apparent on the snail.

“Hello there,” he said, unable to suppress his own grin at hearing her voice. “How are you?”

“Oh you know, same old same old," she replied. "The crew and I just left Alabasta, we’ve been there for a few weeks aiding the rebuilding efforts.”

“You know, most pirates aren’t so overt with their good deeds. No wonder the World Government doesn’t know what the hell to do with you.”

She giggled. “I am nothing if not an enigma. So how’re things with the kids?”

Mihawk rolled his eyes. “Ugh, please don’t call them that.” The woman laughed even harder. “It’s fine, but it’s frustrating. They’re the most obnoxious people I’ve ever met, especially that ghost girl. She’s been trying to get me to tell her about myself ever since she got here, and she finally needled me enough that I gave in.”

“You know,” she said, “I seem to recall a time when I was the most obnoxious person you’d ever met, also for being particularly insistent about asking you questions about yourself.”

“That’s different,” Mihawk replied.

“How?”

“Well, because I like you.”

“You didn’t when we first met. But nothing like a few hours in a jail cell together to endear two people to each other, right?” she said with a grin.

Mihawk huffed out a laugh. “That’s certainly true. I suppose I am a few weeks into a two year sentence for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“Give it time, Mihawk,” she said gently. “I admire you for doing as much as you are given how bizarre the situation is. It’ll get easier, just…show them the side of you that you show me.”

Mihawk blushed a little. He hoped the transponder snail didn’t pick it up. “Thank you. I’ll…try.” Mihawk stopped and took a deep breath. “Listen…since you’re in Paradise, I was wondering if you’d perhaps…like to meet up sometime soon? If you don’t have anywhere in particular to be, I mean.”

The snail smiled. “I’d love that. It’s certainly been too long, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” he agreed. “And…if you’re willing – and if you’re not, that’s totally expected and I won’t take any offense, I just, I really enjoy the time we get together and I–”

“Mihawk!” she cut him off. She’d known him for long enough to know that when the otherwise unflappable Dracule Mihawk started rambling, he had something on his mind.

Mihawk sighed. “Would you like to go out with me?” he said. “On a date?” He held his breath.

The snail beamed. “I’d love to. Took you long enough to ask.”

Mihawk smiled widely. Only she could bring that out of him. “I’ll set out tomorrow. Perhaps we could meet somewhere in between where we both are now? Water 7, maybe?”

“We do always have fun in Water 7,” she said, smiling fondly at the memories. “That would be perfect. I…I’m really, really looking forward to seeing you, Mihawk.”

Still smiling, Mihawk replied. “I’m looking forward to seeing you as well. Goodnight. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, Mihawk. Sleep well.” That night, he absolutely did.

The next morning, Zoro and Perona were surprised when Mihawk marched into the kitchen proudly, wearing the open black coat and red shirt he usually wore at sea, his feathered hat already on his head and a travel bag over his shoulder, which he dropped as he approached the two younger residents.

“Heading out?” Zoro asked, handing the older swordsman a full mug of coffee.

“Warlord meeting?” added Perona.

“No,” replied Mihawk, “No Warlord meeting. I called her last night. I asked her out.” Mihawk took a sip of his coffee to hide his grin, and for dramatic effect. “She said yes.”

Perona squealed and did loops in the air before embracing Mihawk in a bone-crushing hug, pinning his arms to his sides and knocking the wind out of him. For a ghost, she was surprisingly strong. “I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!”

“Ghost girl,” he said lowly. “Off.”

Perona backed away, hands in the air. “Sorry!”

Zoro chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m happy for you, Mihawk. I hope it works out. How long will you be gone?”

Mihawk downed the last of his coffee and placed the mug in the sink.

“I suppose that depends on how it goes. Probably around two weeks with travel time. Zoro, I’m sorry to put our training on hold, but –”

Zoro laughed and patted the older man affectionately on the back, much to Mihawk’s surprise. “No need to apologize! The Humandrills should be all healed up, I’ll fight them while you're gone to keep my skills sharp.”

Mihawk nodded in approval. “Both of you, behave while I’m gone. Try not to burn the place down, will you?” With that, he grabbed his travel bag and began walking out of the room. Then, he stopped, turning only partly to face the two younger residents of the castle. “And by the way….thank you. Both of you. For encouraging me to talk to her.” Without waiting for a response, he exited the kitchen, then the castle, leaving Zoro and Perona with broad smiles behind him.