The Old Men Of One Piece Finding Out They Have A Child With You. Pt. 2

love of my life i believe zoro is a chronic waist grabber ….. he cant put his hands anywhere else. always an arm wrapped around you, pressing your back closer to him, or both hands keeping you planted on his face … idk why, maybe it’s because he can feel your every reaction, who knows …. <3

oh my lordddd

he’s so handsy in general, it’s ridiculous. the second zoro’s got you somewhere even semi-private, he’s groping your chest and cupping you between your legs cause he knows how bad you need this, baby, he can smell it on you.

but for as much as his hands wander, they’ll always end up at your waist. it’s not his fault you make it so easy to grab you around your middle and manhandle you however he likes. big broad hands holding on to you, fingers digging into your soft hips like you’ll run if he lets go and he won’t let his prey get away that easy. it’s just a bonus that he can fuck into you that much harder, deeper, when he’s holding you by your waist and pulling you back to meet every stroke.

and afterwards, when you’re all fucked out and your legs are still shaky, zoro will reach for your waist again to run his hands right over where he’s marked you as his, palms warm and touch reverent. it’s not an apology for the aches and bruises you’ll no doubt have come morning but a reminder that he only gives what he knows you can take.

Imagine Shanks saving you from hypothermia

You and Shanks: *get separated from the rest of the crew during a snow storm*

Shanks: *shielding his eyes from the snow and tries to yell over the howling wind* This storm is getting worse, get over here, we need to stick together. I don't want you getting lost!

You: *hears a crack under your feet* what was that!

Shanks: Fuck, we're wandered onto ice! Move very slowly, and grab my hand!

You: *falls through the ice when you reach for his outstretched hand*

Shanks: No! *Dives into the water after you, and pulls you from the icy depths and looks around* damn it, we need to find shelter!

You: Look over there, there's a cabin!

Shanks: Good eyes kid, let's get a moving. *Activates his armament haki, and wades through the snow and carries your frozen form in his arms*

When he gets you through the door

Shanks: *looks down and notices that your lips, nose, and fingertips are starting to get discolored from the cold, and your eyes are unfocused* oi oi, stay with me kid!

You: it's hot *starts to pull off your coat*

Shanks: *jumps into action and throws you onto the couch, and races to get a fire lit, breaking furniture to use as kindling*

You: *has already pulled off almost every article of wet clothing*

Shanks: *pulls his own clothing off and piles the cushions from the couch in front of the fire place* come ere you

You: *slaps his hands away* no it's too hot to cuddle.

Shanks: you little brat, fine, you leave me no other choice. *Fishes through a linen closet and pulls out a bunch of blankets. Most of which he uses to make a little nest, and one he wraps you up in like a burrito, and drags you to to the spot he prepared in front of the fire and gets on top of you. So you are trapped between him and a bunch of pillows.*

You: *struggles against him* Let me go, you big idiot.

Shanks: *gently bites your palm as you press your hand against his face*

You: *yanks your hand away and whines* get off of me you big jerk.

Shanks: I need you to trust me, when I say this really is in your best interest.

You: but

Shanks: Please

You: *sulks* fine

Shanks: atta girl *pulls off your underwear set and throws them over his shoulder as he gets comfortable on top of your shivering form.*

A few hours later

You: *wakes up feeling the drastic and uncomfortable difference between your cold body, and your sweltering surroundings, and opens your eyes in an unfamiliar place* hmm what happened?

Shanks: *lifts his head off your chest and looks down at you* finally awake, huh?

You: captain? Where are we?

Shanks: At an old hunting cabin, you fell through the ice and passed out.

You: what ice?

Shanks The ice of the frozen lake we accidentally stumbled on, but it's nothing to worry about. We'll reunite with the rest of the crew in a few days. They'll actually probably find us first... Anyway, how are you feeling? *Absentmindedly rubs his knuckles against your chest*

You: *gasps did you undress me?!

Shanks: *chuckles* didn't need to, practically couldn't get you to keep them on soon as I started building the fire. But they needed to come off anyway, they were wet, as were mine.

You: *realize what that means and is very self-conscious*

Shanks: *sees right through you.* You have nothing to worry about dear, you're beautiful, and I am not going to do anything without permission, at least nothing beyond keeping you warm.

You: ... You're heavy

Shanks: *snorts* Pouting was not the reaction I was expecting. *Hooks an arm under you and flips the two of you over, so you were resting on his chest.*

Two hours later

Shanks: I'm hungry.

You: I had some rations in pack, they should still be good if they didn't get wet.

Shanks: *slides out from under you and walks over to the couch where your clothes are, unabashed of his nudity.* Sweet, it's dry.

Benn: *bursts through the door* Boss!

Shanks: oh hey buddy

Benn: *sees his nude captain, and you, covering yourself by the fire,* I'm sorry, I'll come back later *slowly closes the door*

You: you're misreading the situation! Shanks go get him.

Shanks: *laughing too hard*

Oh btw! I did the redrawing of my favourite Shanks moments from the newest episode as well ☺️☺️☺️

When you kiss them in places they don't expect

Didja miss me? Hehe, yeah a lot of things happened emotionally and otherwise. Enjoy! And seriously. Give me more requests. I love those.

Crocodile

The man is private for goodness sake. Why would you kiss him in public unless it's warranted? Because you damn well love him too fucking much that's why. How can you not want to kiss him when he looks so beautiful to you? If you could you would compose poems, carve his face into marbles, paint him in likeness even when no one else will buy or care about them and because you couldn't care less. You love him after all. Even if he has his own rules of what to and not to do in public or in certain spaces, you'd happily follow them regardless. Anything as long as you could stay next to him after all. Anything in the four seas if it means staying in a relationship with him.

But, there are times where you bite your lip and have to stop from actually drowning the poor man in kisses. This is one of them, where he's walking with you and he's kneeling down letting a tiny puppy lick his fingers as he scratches it's belly. Seas, you shouldn't. You shouldn't. Don't focus on how cute he looks, don't focus on how adorable this is, don't-

"Aren't you a cute thing?" He coos and fuck it.

When he looks at you, you press a kiss to his lips. Out in public. Hands cupping his face. He pauses, then raises an eyebrow at you, a slight frown on his face. The crowd which was slowly forming is now filled with 'aww's and 'that's so cute!'

You huff, leaving his face. "Don't blame me here, you usually aren't like this." There's a grin on your face you can't seem to remove though.

He rolls his eyes, and then comes to his full height as the owner of the puppy -a young child- comes for it, picking it up and looks at him, thanking him for finding it. Giving a vague, single nod he whisks you two away in a cloud of sand, reforming at the doors of Rain Dinners.

"Brat. Think before doing that again." He ruffles your hair. You grin. Looks like he didn't mind so much, maybe you could do it again....

Corazon.

To be clear, you don't know much about the man more than he lets you know. You know him as 'Corazon, Younger brother of the Warlord Doflamingo' but tonight when you two met in the same inn, he sat on the edge of the too-small bed, spreading his legs and letting you stand in between them, close to him as he rests his hands on your hips. He writes to you that he has a secret, you loop your arms around his neck and let one hand play with one of the tails of his hat. You're reassuring him both in speech and body language that you'll listen and you'll keep it to yourself. His amber eyes search yours for a moment more, before leaving one side of your hips to snap his fingers, saying, saying, "Silent."

The noises around you quieten. You don't hear the vendors downstairs bark their wares, you don't hear the chatter and sound of the inn below you two. You don't hear the slight moans of the couple opposite to your room. But you do hear him speak. "My name is Donquixote Rosinanate, Marine Commander code 01746 on a mission from Fleet Admiral Sengoku to stop operations of Warlord and pirate Donquixote Doflamingo."

Your jaw drops, and you stare at him in surprise as he holds your hips again, telling you the story of how he came to be in this wretched situation. Of how his heart holds so much rage and hatred, of his worry and sadness. He tells you in that low, melodious voice of his and you just stand there starstruck as you picture the unwoven scroll of the man you love's past as he tells you. As soon as he's done, he has a mixed picture on his face, of weariness, and exhaustion. So of course you pull his head to your chest, to your heart, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"You brave, wonderful man" You mumble. Your heart is breaking and mending itself, newfound love, appreciation ,and fear now entering with the new information he gave you. "You strong, handsome, perfect man"

He freezes, but soon comes to hold you tighter against him, tension seeping out of his body, as he listens to you. One or your hands goes up his hat, fingers tangling within the strands as you hold him tighter. "Loverboy, look at me please"

When his eyes meet yours you smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. "I'm so proud of you." You whisper, watching his eyes grow wide, a goofy smile blooming on his own.

That night, you two don't do much. You talk some more, and fall asleep, his much larger frame curled around yours, your hands holding his head close, tucked under your chin, face buried in his hair.

Sanji.

It's late, and you wake up with your hair mussed, with the sad, miserable feeling that it's too cold and where the Hell is your warm, snuggly lover coupled with a scowl on your face. So you stumble to the one place he's most likely to be. The kitchen. There have been times when you've genuinely been looking for him because you thought he was not in the kitchen only to find out that he is, in fact in the kitchen, he was just looking for something in the lower cupboards and couldn't hear you. Hell, you've chided him a few times for working in the kitchen even after a big fight, so it's safe to assume that really, the blonde would be in the kitchen. You once sat and watched him, wondering that if it was legitimate, would he be this planet's greatest cook in the world, would be allowed to show at competitions? Would he be sought after then? But oh well.

When you finally get to the kitchen, you see him, baking. Uh oh. Now see, baking at night isn't the issue here. You've helped him make croissants and all sorts of stuff in the dead of night. The real issue is that he's doing it alone, at.....you spare a glance at the clock, 4:45 AM. By the four seas......so yes it's an issue. So yes, it's bad, when it isn't baking before he went to sleep. It's bad when he went to sleep in your bed, all snuggly and warm, and woke up in the ass crack of dawn to bake. Hell, it's even worse than in the ashtray next to the knives, it's filled. That means it was something he was terrified of, or something that came to him and he couldn't shrug off.

You run a hand through your hair and enter. Neither of you says anything just yet, and you take your time settling comfortably into the chairs in front of the counter, hand supporting you head as you watch him do his stuff. Your eyes fall onto his frame where you can see some tension in his movements, a slight jitter to the usual grace which he does his job in. Your eyes move to the tiny snail in the corner which plays music. You switch it on, and watch as the music ebbs and flows. And with it, so does the tension, the stress emanating in the gallery.

Some time later which could have been hours, or even minutes later you get up and come behind him, looping your arms around his hips from behind. "How're you feeling, sunflower?" You murmur.

He pauses in his work, most of them done anyway, and takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing out smoke. ".....Better"

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really"

"Okay. Wanna take a break?"

"....Fine. Let me just pop them into the oven"

30 minutes later, Robin walks in as per her usual timing to see him, head pillowed on your lap snoring softly, one of your hands in his hair, and the other holding one of his to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm. You smile slightly at her arrival and point at the oven. "Could you take them out? Blondie here wanted me to wake him up when they were done but...."

She chuckles, nodding. "I'll handle it. Want some tea?"

"That sounds lovely"

Shanks.

Shanks was open about a lot of things. Laughing, being an oaf, and acting like a goofball, many things. Another thing he was very open about was his relationship with you and the affection he showered on you just so. He would give kisses, hugs, and even random spanks on your ass when he could. He would laugh if you threw a fit but you couldn't help but also want to trip him up just so. Just once.

Your chance finally came when he got injured in battle, causing Hongo to order bed rest and STRICTLY bed rest "No leaving the bed for at least a WEEK, captain. That's an order"

"What? Nooo, I can't!" Whined your boyfriend

Hongo sighed, looking like he was ready to strangle the man based on what shenanigans he would probably start to pull to get out of bed. "Captain, please. Just a week. 5 days is all I'm asking here."

"3!"

"5"

"4!"

"5. No more, no less"

The redhead huffed, turning over in bed "Awful doctor, no man should ever treat his captain this way"

Hongo now looked at you, looking three seconds from yanking his hair out and with desperation. You sighed, sitting on the bed next to him and trying to reassure him.

"Come on, Shanks. Listen to the poor guy. I'll be here helping when I can anyway."

He shifted. Gave you a look. This dumbass.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Shanks, I swear to-"

And that was that. You'd help him when you could, not that you minded. However, when he tried to do anything with you, kissing, hugging, you'd pull away, a grin on your face. In fact, you'd end up giving him kisses where he didn't expect it. Is he leaning in for a kiss on the lips? You kiss the bridge of his nose. He wants to hug you? Lean away and a pat on the head. He tries to kiss your cheek? You move and kiss his ear. It drove him nuts.

"Aw c'mon, not again! What did I do to deserve this!" He complained after you had successfully dodged his attempt to kiss you on your lips. Only to be thwarted when you kissed his jaw instead.

"This is payback baby." You grin, sly and fun.

Then it clicks and he laughs that full, happy, lively laugh of his.

"Awright. But as soon as I'm rested up and good to go...." His eyes gleam with a spark of mischievousness. "You're gonna get it, babe"

True to his word, as soon as Hongo says the word "okay", Shanks leaps out of bed and starts running. You were in the fields of the island, looking around and wandering. You flinch as you feel a familiar presence behind, and you've barely turned your back to see who it is, before he crashes into you, scooping you up and lifting you in his arms.

"Caught you!" He yells with glee and all you can do is laugh and squeal with joy, before curling into him and kissing him on the lips.

all I can say after reading Rough Day: AGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!! (in the best way possible)

AGGGGGGHHHHHJHH

❝𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩!❞

synopsis: you're tasked with waking up zoro for dinner, but it's hard to make him budge.

pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: more tooth rotting fluff for my favorite swordsman :) wc: ~1.6k an: i had a dream about this and added some even more fluff because why not. ty all i hope you enjoy <3 also i realized i have a decent chunk of zoro fics about napping lol maybe this is why im sleepymarimo i just love that sleepy lil guy

"Where the hell is that shitty swordsman?" Sanji grumbles, cigarette hanging from his lips as he sets a hefty plate of rice on the dining table.

Even though you're acutely aware that the marimo is missing, you pretend to peer over shoulders and swivel your head to give the impression that you're just as clueless as everyone else. You're already sat at the table, utensils neatly resting beside your plate.

Everyone else is already in the dining room, Luffy practically on the brink of perishing as the food is placed before him. Chopper and Usopp are close behind, their forks glinting in the light.

Robin is patient, smiling at the sight before her, the one she's grown to love. "I believe he said something about taking a nap," she reveals, her fingers wrapping around the stem of a wine glass. "He might be holed up in the boy's room."

"You mean the men's room?" Franky speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood, the cola bottle in his hand hissing as he pops the cap.

Nami shakes her head, not in the mood to entertain the hooligans she calls her crewmates- her family. When Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper start to chant for their food, the navigator's last straw cracks into a million pieces.

Her chair slides back with a screech as she stands, planting her hands on the table. "Ugh, I can't believe that guy, sleeping through dinner!" The sigh she gives is intentionally dramatic, her charm working its magic as Sanji quickly offers to knock some sense into the green-haired swordsman.

It all comes to a halt when a pair of hands sprout from the table, tugging at the cook's shirt in a silent command to stay put. All eyes go to Robin, her knowing gaze easily hiding whatever ploy is running through her mind.

She calls your name and you immediately feel your cheeks warm, though you still feign obliviousness even if it seems like she's peeking right into your brain.

"Why don't you get Zoro?" she suggests, yet deep down you know you don't have an option.

Even if the thought of protesting crosses your mind, the chorus of growling stomachs and pleas for you to hurry have you standing and scampering up the stairs and to the deck.

Standing in front of the door to the boy's cabin, you feel your stomach drop a bit. You're quite literally entering a tiger's den, into the willing jaws of a beast who has been known to treasure booze, swords, and naps above all else.

The air inside the room is significantly more warm, heavy, compared to the cool breeze blowing outside. It's dark, your eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting as you carefully step over shoes and dirty clothes.

For a moment the beds seem empty and you wonder if he's even inside, yet the massive figure atop one of the bunks makes you quickly reconsider that thought.

His bare back rises and falls at a leisurely pace, his arms sprawled over the sides of the bed while he lays on his front. Cheek pressed comfortably into his pillow, Zoro naps away without much care for anything else.

After gawking for a second or two, you step toward the bunk, mentally cursing, and steel yourself for what feels like the millionth time. The wooden structure is a bit too tall for you to get a look at him, so with a small grunt you step onto the bottom bunk and grip onto the rails to hoist yourself up.

As soon as you take a glimpse over the top bunk's railing, you feel the warmth of his exhales across your nose and cheeks. It makes your face warm, your own breaths stalling as you take in the sight of him looking so… serene.

His face is softened, relaxed, a stark contrast to the pinched brows and scowls he usually wears.

Imagining the exasperated faces of your hungry crewmates, you get on with your small mission. Even though you're there to wake him, you're considerate enough to keep mindful of your tone. "Zoro?" comes his name from your lips, a murmur not quite suited for waking a beast.

The most you get out of him is the slight wrinkling of his nose, like a fly had perched there for a second before buzzing off. In a way it's expected given that he's slept through storms and whole marine attacks.

Your tone is louder the next time you call his name, more firm, his silhouette becoming pronounced as your eyes adjust to the dark room. "Zoro," you call again, arms starting to ache from how you're pulling yourself up to the top bunk.

Again, nothing. It's almost comical at this point, really.

You resist the urge to groan in frustration, your options becoming more limited. Time really isn't on your side here, not when the odds of a hungry pirate barging into the room increases by the second.

Taking a big breath, you decide that this is going to be the last try. This is going to be the one to wake the marimo, whether he likes it or not.

Unfortunately, the sea has other plans for you.

The ship hits a patch of rough water, the violent movement causing you to lose your grip on the railing tethering you to the top bunk. Your breath also catches when the sudden jolt makes your feet slip off the mattress belonging to the bottom bed, your heart skipping a beat when you feel yourself starting to fall back.

You're fully prepared to brace yourself against the harsh floor, your muscles tensing and jaw tightening, but you don't even have the chance to fall back a single inch.

A strong arm, previously hanging limp over the bed, curls around your waist and holds you steady. It supports all your weight, even as your legs kick out in an attempt to find solid ground. With your face suddenly squished into the junction of his neck, your own arms act on instinct and wrap around his shoulders.

Zoro's awake now, steel-grey eye open and aware as if he hadn't been knocked out cold just seconds ago. His senses have a unique threshold, not bothering to pick up on the calls of his name but always managing to be ready when his crewmates need him most- especially you.

His skin is warm, a tell tale sign that he'd probably been napping for hours. Tightening his grip on you, he sits up, pulling you with him. You're still disoriented, wondering why you haven't hit the floor, but he's as sharp as ever.

"The hell are you doin'?" he grumbles, voice still heavy from his rest, carrying that delightful rasp. His irritated tone is a facade, more of a light chide than anything. "You tryin' t'break your neck or something?"

You feel like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing a couple times while you're still dangling from the top bunk. It's hard to not get in a few mumbled apologies, not knowing if he's ticked from being stirred from his sleep.

"Dinner is ready," you reply, managing to find your words, your hold on him not letting up due to fear of falling once more. He feels so warm, the definition of a guilty pleasure, and you're left to exert as much self-control as possible.

He lets out a scoff, amused, then grunts as he finally realizes you're still hanging over the bed. His hand moves, sliding across your waist to grab at the back of your shirt. While Zoro's strength is known throughout all the seas, it always leaves you in awe. With nothing more than a bicep curl, he hoists you up and onto the top bunk with him.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sink into the soft mattress, the bunk creaking with the added weight and how Zoro shifts into a seated position. Legs crossed over one another, he stretches his arms over head, unintentionally showing off his physical prowess.

Your eyes find the ceiling out of respect, but mostly because you're another second away from bursting into flames.

He yawns, then rubs at the back of his neck. "Dinner, huh?" he repeats, finding the answer satisfactory enough and shrugging his shoulders. "They sent the right person. I don't need that shitty cook hurling a kick my way."

You nod and even get out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure waking up to me almost falling is a lot better," you joke, looking over the bunk to see the drop to the floor.

"It's no problem," he assures, his gold earrings catching in the slivers of moonlight entering through the window as a lazy smirk grows on his face. "I got ya."

While you'd be willing to skip dinner to stay with the swordsman, your stomach protests with a hefty grumble. Zoro's stomach follows suit, making it's need for food known. The timing of it makes another laugh slide past your lips, a sound that makes his smirk soften into something more genuine.

With a small grunt, he hops off of the top bunk and lands on the floor with a solid thud. "Alright," he starts, stretching his back out a bit more before lifting his head to meet your gaze. "Let's go eat." His arms raise, ready to help you down from the bed. Whether you want to take the ladder or propel yourself into his embrace, he silently vows to be there to offer support. Although Zoro could be stubborn, gruff, and brash, he'd never let you fall, not ever.

lemme just pop in with this 🤩

pov: julius sneaking out to meet you, while you were peacefully stargazing, here comes marx yelling over the communication device

ASVJHDGJKGFDHJHFGFFGG UR SO RIGHT 😭🤚💕💕

And we wave hi to Marx and he smiles and waves back at us before continuing to yell at Julius and Julius grumbles under his breath that Marx likes us more than him LMAOOOOOO

But man🥺🥺🥺 he looks so cute just talking abt his dreams and the way that he clamps his hands over his ears LMAOOOO

He looks like he doesn’t wanna hear what his mom is yelling about AKSJBSJSDH and the hand…..

roronoa zoro; 21,051 words (not including epilogue), fluff and angst, ENEMIES!!! to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, canon-normal violence, on-page description of injury, excessive use of flashbacks, some banter, healing from trauma, baroque works!reader to strawhat!reader, no "y/n", emotionally constipated!zoro, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending; (epilogue tags will be posted separately)

summary: in which neither you nor zoro are the children you remember each other to be.

update: new chapters will be posted on @shouyuus!!!

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i honestly cannot believe i actually finished writing this lmfao. but anyway, this post will act as a table of contents/masterlist of sorts, and i will update links to the separate chapters as they go up. chapters will be posted every few days (but they are all done! except for the epilogue LOL). i've tagged everyone who has req-ed to be tagged in this series so far on this prologue post, but if you wish to be tagged for the upcoming chapters and you're not already on this fics specific taglist, please comment below to be added! and without further ado -- here we go!

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: someone, somewhere

chapter one: a shadow of the past

chapter two: tell no tales

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

chapter four: another life

chapter five: true love's kiss

epilogue: la petite mort (nsfw)

prologue: someone, somewhere

He remembers you most as a child, in halcyon images and gold-limned flashes of his own childhood memories, the edges blurring watercolor soft, but the center (always you) carved in knife-sharp relief.

You were one of the few children that lived in Shimotsuki Village who hadn’t come from the doujou — one of the few children he knew that (at least to the best of his knowledge) had a thing called family. A mother to braid your hair, a father to chase the darkness away, a warm bed and a kitchen that always smelled of freshly made rice. And perhaps it was jealousy, or some other more complicated emotion that had been then too big to name with one single word, but he’d never gone out of his way to befriend you like the other kids from the doujou did — fascinated as they were by your soft hands and round cheeks and the bright, glittering array of homemade sweets you’d bring with you once every couple of weeks.

He’d learn later on that it was because Shimotsuki-sensei had saved your father’s life at some point in time; the story now lost to the annals of legend and withering memory, but back then, he’d only assumed it was the natural way of things. Of waking up for kata practice and then settling in for lunch, and then maybe, if it was to be a good day, you, with your basket of sweets and your blue-bell laughter.

And perhaps this is why, years later, when he meets you again in a dark, nameless village tavern, he doesn’t recognize you — not at first. Because you’d looked so different. Gone was the roundness in your cheeks, or the natural star-bright light in your eyes. Gone, too, were the bright braids that your hair had always been set in — he remembers so clearly, watching the other boys from the doujou jab their fingers into the rings of your pinned up braids, pulling down just to hear you squeak. He hadn’t said anything then, stupidly thinking him above it all, watching as you tried to jerk away, but laughing when the boys finally relented with half-hearted apologies.

You always threatened to take their sweets away; you never did, in the end.

But there, then, in that tiny tavern, you’d been thin, your hair dark as an oil spill, loose and inky as it cascades over your shoulders, your eyes lightless as the windows to an abandoned house — the hollowness made all the more visceral by the light he knew once inhabited them. The way loneliness is always more potent when coming back to it, the second time around.

He wanders up to the bar, slates you a glance before rapping his knuckles on the worn wood to catch the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have beer and a refill of whatever the lady’s having.”

You shift slightly, shoulders hunching towards your ears.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you say, shifting to shield your face from his gaze.

Zoro cocks his head, tossing a few Berry towards the bartender as they set down a stein of beer and a champagne flute to replace the one in front of you.

“Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink?” Zoro asks, rolling his shoulders as he reaches out for his beer. You eye him warily.

“Not for a guy that’s been tracking me for three weeks straight.”

Zoro hums, thumb poised on the hilt of his swords.

“We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

You reach out to run a forefinger along the rim of the thin champagne flute before swirling it once by the base. You watch the bubbles fizzle before leaning in to take a dainty sip.

“And they say chivalry is dead…” you murmur, almost too softly for him to hear. Zoro scoffs, allowing himself a twinge of a smirk before his mouth falls flat.

“You let me track you for three whole weeks.”

There’s no question in his words, only a harsh, accusatory certainty.

You lick your lips, leaning back in your stool, tugging your glass of champagne with you.

“Maybe I wanted the company.”

“Or maybe… you wanted me to follow you here.”

Every muscle in his body is tense, drawn taut as a tightrope, coiled tight as a spring.

You sigh, twisting a single lock of your hair around a finger, examining the ends as if looking for split hairs.

Then, quick as a flash, you’re at each other’s throats — him with a sword poised at your jugular, you with a knife pressed against his stomach.

“One move —” you warn, digging the knife slightly further into his skin. Distinctly, Zoro feels the pressure slice through his thick linen shirt, the cool kiss of the blade against his abdomen. And he’s killed enough by now to know that you’ve picked a major artery — one that would hurt, and take minutes for him bleed out. Just long enough for him to suffer, but not enough to get help.

The edge of his mouth ticks upward — not bad.

It’s then, in the infinitesimal flicker of your eyes meeting his, that he realizes who you are.

He nearly topples back, jerking away slightly with the revelation. Your eyes go wide, jolted by his sudden movement. But he’s quick enough to evade the sharp jab of your knife and a second later, you’re on either ends of the tavern, drawn blades and bared teeth.

“Y-you!” the word rips from Zoro like an unripe scab, thick and hard and still bloody underneath.

You lick your lips, eyes narrowing to slits beneath your long, lanky hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.”

“Oi! No fighting in the bar!” the barkeep’s voice is gruff and loud, and for a second, Zoro wonders if you’ll listen. The next, the sharp clang of metal on metal stuns him backwards a few steps as you wrest your knives from between two of his katanas, snarling.

“If you’re so much of a gentleman — let’s take this outside.”

“Ladies first,” Zoro spits out as he whips both swords through the air before sheathing them. He makes a show of holding the tavern door for you as you stalk out in front of him, your hackles raised, your knives jutting out from your belt like so many pairs of sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” you ask, as soon as you’re both out of the bar and standing in the moonlit street outside, the wharf to your left, the strip of small, rundown taverns to your right.

The air twangs with the metallic smell of fish and the thick, oppressive sweetness of rotting wood.

“An explanation,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Zoro nods, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

You lick your lips, glaring at him for a second longer before turning and marching down the rickety boardwalk. A moment later, Zoro levels himself with you as you round a corner onto a small stretch of beach, pillowed against a backdrop of sharp, unrelenting rocks, the tips bleached white by the round, silver moon.

“There was a beach just like this,” you say, stepping onto the tide-soaked sand, leaning down to pick up a fragment of a broken seashell, washed ashore by an errant wave.

It takes Zoro a second to realize you’re talking about Shimotsuki village, and the tiny little beach on the other side of the dense, cedar wood.

“Yeah. A bunch of us used to play there — see who can throw rocks out the furthest.”

“You were always the best at that,” you say, your voice softer than he’d heard all night.

“Yeah, well…” Zoro shrugs, leaning down to pick up a piece of rock, weighing it in his palm a few times before whipping his arm back to snap it into the gentle, shushing waves. You both watch as the rock skids out over the water before plunking into the sea, “Guess I’ve always been kind of a show-off.”

The sound of your laughter sends summertime sparklers racing up his spine.

The quiet pools between you like spilt blood, rank and dripping.

“So. You go by Ms. Double Nines now, I heard,” Zoro says, in a flagging attempt to be casual as he turns to glance at you, both his hands resting on the hilt of his swords.

You stand next to him, your eyes focused on a point far out on the horizon, still as statue.

“What’s it to you?”

Zoro sighs, looking down. In the pale, cool moonlight, his earrings glint like baring teeth.

“What happened?”

You suck in a breath.

"Life happened,” you say, turning back towards him with a steely glint in your eyes. Zoro stiffens, his grip tightening on his swords as he sizes you up. He does the mental calculations — you’re just far enough for him to defend against an attack, but close enough where if things were to go south entirely, he’d have a hard time getting back to safety.

You grin, seemingly noticing his rough internal calculations.

“Do yourself a favor, Roronoa — and don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to,” you say, flicking out one of your blades and tossing it up into the air, only to catch it around your finger, swinging it round and round, the sharp edge of the blade nicking the air just shy of your cheekbone.

“Who said I didn’t want to know?” Zoro presses, bracing himself for a fight.

You chuckle, the sound harsh and mirthless.

“If you’d wanted to fight me properly, you wouldn’t have waited till I got you onto this stretch of deserted beach.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to kill you.”

“Or maybe…” your voice is so low Zoro almost doesn’t catch the stomach-wrenching longing in your words, “I just wanted a quiet place to die.”

The sharp shink of blades being drawn is heart-rendingly familiar, but the bone-rattling clash of metal on metal still shakes him to the roots of his teeth. Zoro grunts as he parries a blow from either side, before crossing his swords to catch your assault down the center.

You’re fast, he’ll give you that, your body smaller and quicker. You slip through the shadows with the comfort of a person who knows nothing but and he can’t help wondering at the life you’ve led that had pushed you to this point.

To having a mark on your back, a bounty on your head.

You’re a good fighter — this much, he acknowledges. But good isn’t usually good enough to best him. This much, he also knows. Yet somehow, you’re keeping up, somehow, you’re pushing him back, forcing him to retreat one step and then another. It’s not until you duck beneath one of his pin-wheeling blades and force yourself into a knife’s-breath of his space that he realizes — it isn’t that you’re good, it’s that you’re reckless.

Reckless with your own body in a way that makes him stumble back at the realization. Reckless, in the way you charge forward and thrust your body into spaces where he’d easily be able to slip a blade between your ribs — and later, when he’s wiping his swords clean of your oxidizing blood, he’d wonder why he didn’t.

Still, there’s something terrifying in the way you barely flinch when he knicks your arm, drawing a dark line of blood through your clothes, or how you jerk yourself forward when the tip of his sword catches your stomach, almost as if daring him to impale you in one fell swoop.

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

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More zoro smut where he isn’t a big mean ass dom but awkward, needy, flustered, and afraid of hurting the reader because he knows his own strength .