#harpy reader

I imagine Harpy reader meeting Marco when he was still young, like the both of them in their teens, with Marco still an apprentice and has recently eaten his devil fruit and still getting used to it

(I'm not gonna go into specifics since I'm writing something up rn)

So when the Whitebeards land on an island that is full of harpies and Marco might have shown off his devil fruit and now the whole village is fawning over him

But the thing is that this village is so disconnected from the outside world that they speak their own language and the Whitebeard crew have no idea what any of them are saying

The only people that know how to speak New World is the Chief (although they're still learning and the pronunciation is broken) and the villages old crazy lady that lives up in a mountain who can actually speak and understand it fluently

Now Harpy reader is the Chief and wears a poncho and mask, which covers most of her appearance so the Whitebeards just assume Harpy reader/the Chief is a man

Throughout the whole time Harpy reader can’t take her eyes off of Marco and everyone but Marco notices

At first everyone thinks that since Marco is taking a lot of attention that you see him as a threat but no!

Before anyone can process anything a welcome party is made for the pirates and your calling marco “Little Mate” in your language and offering him the Sea King meat you had killed this morning freshly cooked while puffing out your feathers proudly

Now I imagine that the Whitebeard pirates but mostly Whitebeard himself has an inkling that you might be more than just being friendly with Marco

(Because his protective dad instincts are going off that your trying to steal his son)

But for everyone else in the village it is so obvious!

You’re practically worshipping Marco not letting him get up for a single thing!

If anyone besides the Whitebeards get close to Marco your feathers puff up aggressively as you get in between Marco and the other person letting out an angry trill ready to fight them off

Then once they leave you turn to Marco and preen your feathers and hair then offer him more meat

Essentially screaming in bird courtship "Look Little Mate! I’m so strong no one else dares to get close! I can also kill Sea Kings and provide for you!"

During the night you had also gotten up to join a dance showing off your feathers while turning to look at Marco from time to time, making sure he was watching

Now Marco just thinks you're just being really really friendly and welcoming and for some reason your actions make the phoenix inside him trill and coo happily, though Marco just thinks the phoenix part of him also agrees that you're a really cool new bird friend!

But then you leave for a few hours and Marco is concerned and worried for you since it’s gotten really late and everyone has pretty much turned in for the night

Then you come running back to him, picking him up then throwing him over your shoulder and running right back to where you came from

Showing him a huge nest that you made in the time you were gone and gently dropping him in front of it, while nervously watching from the side about what he would think

For some reason the phoenix in Marco is on cloud 9 at the sight of the nest as some instincts take over as he inspects the nest

Once he was satisfied he turned to you curiously 

“Is this for me to sleep in tonight-yoi?” He asked pointing at the nest as you gave him a nod, making him smile as he got in and started getting comfortable

All Marco could think was how much of a great friend you were being, making a nest for him not wanting him to feel left out by spending your time with him and even making sure he was plenty full!

But that was all thrown out the window when you took off your mask, revealing your face and taking off your poncho and getting inside the nest, placing your poncho over Marco like a blanket followed by one of your wings as you cuddled up to him, keeping him warm

You said what Marco can only guess is a “goodnight” while you start to nod off

Marco is far from sleep at this point, his head is running overtime at the mental hurdles he’s jumping through.

Firstly you were unbelievably pretty that he thought it was unfair, he already thought your feathers were pretty but this was too much! Secondly he was rethinking every single interaction the both of you had tonight and thirdly, he was mentally beating himself up for thinking this way about what he thought was a really friendly and nice person, and he felt like he was taking advantage of your hospitality!

By morning he managed to maybe sleep for 5 hours before he had to return back to his crew to sail off again

You were already up offering Marco more of the Sea King meat with a big toothy smile, leaving Marco blushing and taking the meat and eating it quickly to distract him from the sudden feelings that were coming up

You escorted Marco back to his crew, your mask and poncho back on, making Marco slightly sad he couldn't see your face more before he left

Before Marco left though you offered him a few of your feathers for him to keep, which he happily accepted

When you in turn asked for a few of his feathers, Marco then showed you that his feathers immediately turned to ash once separated from him

You were devastated and Marco could tell so instead he offered you the blue sash wrapped around his waist instead

Marco seemed to think you were happy with it since you wrapped it around your own waist like how he had it instantly, Marco was also happy that you wore something of his but he pushed away that thought for now

Waving off the Whitebeards until you couldn’t see their ship anymore, you went back to the village to show off your Little Mates gift, knowing that you would see him again since you believed it was fate that you met him

It wasn’t until many weeks later that Marco decided to read up on some bird behaviour

mainly because he was getting worried that he was getting instincts and urges to do things like make a nest, and the fact he was aggressively protective of the feathers you had gifted him, he almost got into a fight with his crew mates and even Pops if they looked at your feathers or dare try to touch them!

Once he actually sat down and with a book and got to the breeding behaviour of birds did Marco realised that you had been courting him hard the entire time he was with you

Marco felt like a total idiot as he realized you had been anything but subtle, especially since his crew was teasing him though he didn’t know why, now that he knows he is quite literally berating himself for how blind he was

He somehow managed to control himself and ease most of his instincts (not the one that told him to leave the crew and go back to the island you lived on and accept your courting though)

But he is left stunned again

Because now he’s standing across from you as you wave enthusiastically a wide toothy grin asking if he remembered you while you stood with the Roger pirates definitely part of their crew

Marco frowned as he noticed how close you were with that Silvers Reyleigh, did you like more mature guys? He can be pretty mature! Maybe if he beat that guy in the clash you would see he’s much better than him!

But Marco shook the thought from his head, after all it had been a long time since you last saw each other and he didn’t even know you were trying to court him, he didn’t even reciprocate anything! You probably didn’t even like him anymore!

Toby turned on his wet heels, then began walking back up the trail. He'll just walk later, or maybe he'll just fall asleep right as he gets home. Whatever.

Then all of a sudden, the woods went quiet, he groaned internally. Bugs went quiet, birds stopped chirping, there were plenty of horrible things in the depths of these woods that caused that.

It was an average occurrence, but it still wasn't good.

Toby eased his breathing, then looked forwards on the path, just kept walking.

As he walked, his eyes looked around in a state of anxiousness. It was getting dark but he could still kind of see. The skies were gray all day anyways.

Then he saw it, high up on a branch. Perched and preening.

He stopped walking, just stood there and stared up at the dark brown, large feathery creature above him. He couldn't really see that well, just scruffiness. Cool.

Then it stopped preening, and looked directly at him below

Fuck.

It didn't really do anything, just stared at him. This weird, dark, bird thing.

Toby, out of instinct, raised his hatchets. What the fuck was that suppose to do to this thing 40-ish feet above?

A loud coo came from it before it flew off.

He scared it off, mission...accomplished?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toby had returned to the Slendermansion, grabbed a different pair of shoes and dry socks. He felt like he still had some energy in him, he almost always had energy so it was more of a matter of, "Do I wanna or do I not wanna?"

He decided that he wanted to, Ben and Jeff were in the living room playing some video games and gave him a weird look for coming in after so long only to go directly back out.

He followed a random trail that would lead him deep into the woods, getting lost was fun.

Toby did his usual stuff, looked at random critters, touched some bugs, chewed on some bark, climbed a few trees, and then he found a lake that he somehow hadn't found before. The Slenderwoods were big and mysterious, Slenderman didn't need any outsiders to reach him and his proxies.

He went to the edge of the water, careful for once to not get his shoes wet, and just walked around. Then he found a nice, sturdy looking tree that overlooked the river, and y'know what he did?

He climbed that shit.

Toby felt so cool here and being able to get this sick view of the lake. He leaned back against the bark, letting it dig into his back.

He wished he had some cigarettes on him, oh well. He did have his lighter tho.

Obviously, this was Toby, so he picked a random leaf and lit it on fire, watching it burn up. He burnt a few more leaves in his hand, entertained by the way the fire ate up at them.

As he was relaxing, he felt weird. Something was off, that wasn't good, especially in the Slenderwoods.

He heard it before he saw it, how could he have been so stupid and not have seen it until now?

A rumbling coo came from above him, there was a weird large bird perched on the branches—

The thing from earlier!

Toby looked up and stared at it, it was already looking at him. It didn't mean any harm at all, because if it did it would've already eaten him or something.

His hand extended instinctively, reaching for the branch above. He stood up and looked up at you.

The two of you just stared at each other...

"I've never seen something luh-like you." Toby said awkwardly, he felt silly for talking to a bird creature. It couldn't even understand him or communicate back-

You cooed deeply at him

He stared

Then you spoke

"Sorry, haven't used my voice in a while"

His mouth went agape and he stared at you

"Golly... Okay so you're not j-just some weird bird?"

"Is that how you speak to women?"

"I barely spuh-sp-peak to women"

"Yeah I can tell."

Silence...

He reached out and touched you, he wasn't sure what he was touching exactly, to him all he saw was a bunch of floomfy feathers.

"Hey quit it."

"S-Sorry!"

He pulled his hand back and decided to simply look at you from his branch.

"D-Do you uh-always just perch around trees? I think I saw you earlier."

"Yeah I saw you too earlier."

That...Didn't answer his question.

"Can I huh-have your name?"

"You cannot have my name but I can tell you my name"

"Huh? What does that mean-"

"My name's Reader."

Toby stared at you for a bit longer.

"Can I touch you?"

You fluffed up your wings and prepared to fly off

"H-Hey! Don't go please, if I made you uncomfortable then I'm sorry."

"Yeah and then next you'll ask me for a feather."

"Well now that you mention it-"

You splayed out your wings, revealing yourself but also flapping your limbs around which sent multiple dark brown feathers flying around.

Toby almost got a good look at you but couldn't due to your flapping.

"Woah..." Toby picked up a feather that fell on his branch, "Can I keep this?"

"Yeah just don't do anything weird with it."

"It's just a feather-"

"Hey can I have a chunk of your hair?- Do you see how weird that sounds?!"

But as you were trying to show an example, Toby had his hand extended, holding a lock of his brown hair.

You just stared at it.

"Dude."

He looked up at you and smiled behind his goggles and muzzle. He waved the chunk of hair at you.

"Are ya gonna t-take it or not?"

You stayed perched, your wings and fluff kept you concealed heavily and you used that to show your distaste.

"Aw don't be like that..."

You looked at this weird, twitchy dude standing on a branch handing you a clump of his hair. The clump of his hair would be a small, but nice addition to your nest...It was just hair.

Toby watched in awe as your neck extended down, and you took the clump with your beak. You tucked it under your wing.

"You're really big..." Toby commented

You just stared at him.

Toby stared back. He had gotten to see your face up close, that beak and those black eyes, not to mention your feathers. He was right, you were big. Toby imagined what your feathers feel like.

You were perched awkwardly as he just stared, this was getting weird. You flew off the branch and to some other tree across the lake. Toby got the hint, he was a bit disappointed that he didn't get to talk to you more.

He scared off and annoyed yet another person, now time to head back to the Slendermansion. Where his presence wasn't met well either.

And then—bam. Mast to the face.

You hit it hard. Feathers went everywhere, and down you tumbled in a dizzy spiral until your back hit the deck with a dramatic thud. A dozen curious eyes blinked down at you.

"Woahhh, are you a bird?" someone asked.

"I think she's a person," said another voice.

"No, no, no, definitely a bird. She has talons."

"She's got arms too."

"Yeah, and a beak—wait. No beak."

You sat up and hissed a little, shaking glittery blue feathers from your hair and rubbing your sore tailbone. "Excuse you! I'm a harpy, not a bird!"

The one with the straw hat leaned forward with the widest grin you’d ever seen. "Cool!! Wanna join our crew?!"

And that was it. Seriously. That's how it happened.

Now you were the Straw Hats’ newest crewmate, and while you may have forgotten to ask what they actually do, you were already obsessed. Everyone had their own weird skills, their own vibes—your kind of people. Especially Luffy. He was loud, strange, kind of sticky sometimes (you weren’t sure why), and reminded you of a younger cousin you once had who used to eat dirt. Very trustworthy.

You helped with lookout duties mostly, since no one else could fly. Sometimes you snatched apples right off trees without landing. Sometimes you brought back weird rocks that looked like faces. Sometimes you got distracted and didn’t come back for hours, which earned you a gentle scolding from Nami and a lot of nose-poking from Usopp.

But you were happy.

For the first time in forever, actually happy.

You used to live on a little sky island. A quiet place with pretty clouds, but boring as mud. Everyone there was strict and flappy and said you needed to act more "elegant." You got tired of being told not to laugh so loud or fly so low or dream too big. So one day, you just… didn't go back. You kept flying. And flying. Until you didn't know where the sky ended or the sea began.

And then—bam. Mast to the face. Again.

But now, you think that mast might’ve saved you. Because this ship? These people?

They made you feel like you were finally allowed to be loud. To be wild.

To be you.

The Swordsman and the Harpy

You never really understood how someone so quiet and grumpy could become one of your favorite people. Zoro didn’t talk much, and when he did, it was usually with a glare. Or a grunt. Or a glare and a grunt. He slept a lot, trained a lot, and drank like a dragon with a death wish. And yet—somehow—you liked being around him more than anyone else.

At first, he said you were annoying. You said he looked like a cucumber. He said you talked too much. You told him he sulked like a wet cat. He told you to stop fluttering so close to his sword. You landed on his shoulders and braided feathers into his bandana while he tried to ignore you.

And now? He doesn’t even flinch when you nap with your wings draped over him. He doesn't say much, but he lets you sit by him during watch. He lets you hang upside down from the mast when he’s nearby, just in case you fall (you do, often). He even shared his sake once, just once, and called you “tolerable” when you didn’t spit it out.

You think that means you’re best friends.

Luffy is easy to love. He's sunshine with fists. Chaotic, bright, full of dumb questions and wild dreams. You swear you’ve never met anyone who could make you laugh so hard by just sitting still. He plays tag with you in the rigging and always asks if you can teach him how to fly. (You can’t. You’ve tried. He just flops.)

Nami is the responsible one. You’ve tried to teach her how to fly too, but she only pretends to care when you say you could scout treasure from the sky. You like to drop shiny coins or colorful leaves into her lap from above just to see her confused face twist into a smirk. She pretends not to smile. But she always keeps the things you drop.

Usopp is your mischief partner. He taught you how to use a slingshot (you’re horrible at it). You taught him how to steal snacks without Sanji noticing (you’re amazing at it). Together, you’re the self-declared Masters of Trickery and Doom™. You have matching cloaks. You hold secret meetings under the table. One time, you tied Zoro’s ankles together while he was asleep. You barely escaped alive.

Sanji dotes on you like you’re made of golden eggs. He calls you mademoiselle du ciel and makes you the most ridiculous, colorful plates of fruit you’ve ever seen. You’re his favorite taste-tester (you think), and sometimes, you flap your wings dramatically just to make him swoon. You’d feel a little bad, but the food is so good.

Chopper is your baby. You love him. You let him sit on your shoulders when you fly (gently!). You braid his fur. You bring him flowers. He lectures you like a tiny grandpa whenever you come back scratched up from chasing things in the air. You pretend to be insulted but secretly think he’s the sweetest thing to walk the sea.

Robin is… cool. Mysterious. Pretty. You’re a little scared of her in the same way you’re scared of thunder—beautiful and powerful and soft-spoken. She reads you stories sometimes, and you hang upside down from the ceiling while she talks. Her voice is calm and her words paint pictures in your mind. You fall asleep during them often.

Franky is so loud, and you love him for it. He makes you weird little gadgets to help with flying and gliding. One time he tried to make you rocket-powered wings. You crashed through the upper deck. He called it a super success. You love high-fiving his giant hands.

Brook plays you music that makes your feathers ripple. You like dancing to his violin, spiraling through the air above the deck while he laughs and calls out silly requests. You asked him once what it’s like to not have wings. He told you, very gently, that even if his bones were light, his heart used to feel even lighter. You gave him a single glowing-blue feather that night. He still keeps it in his violin case.

And then there’s Jinbei. The first time you met him, you squawked. Loudly. He was huge. You thought maybe he was a whale. Or a building. But he just chuckled softly and bowed his head. Jinbei is kindness shaped like stone. Solid. Calm. You don’t flutter around him as much, but you always sit nearby when he’s telling stories. He has a way of making you feel still even when you’re full of too much energy. Like the ocean. Big and heavy and safe.

You don’t really remember what it felt like to be lonely anymore. Not since that mast to the face. You weren’t meant to land on that ship. But now, you don’t think you’ll ever leave it.

A few weeks in, when the ship started to feel more like home and less like a moving floor with people shouting all the time, you did what came naturally.

You made a nest.

It wasn’t like you planned it. It started with a pillow. Then a second one. Then a blanket you “borrowed” from Usopp (he still hasn’t noticed), some fluff from Franky’s tool bag (he has noticed), and one of Sanji’s kitchen towels because it smelled like vanilla and garlic and something warm.

But the perfect spot didn’t come until you saw Nami’s tangerine trees. There was one thick branch, high up and just strong enough to hold you if you crouched just right. The leaves were soft. The sunlight was golden there. You asked Nami if you could perch up there just for a bit, and to your delight, she barely even blinked.

“Just don’t eat my tangerines,” she said, and that was that.

So you started weaving. Sticks. Feathers. Fabric. You’d flutter down with ribbon from Brook’s violin case or threads from Robin’s sewing kit and tuck them into your nest like they were treasure. And then, something changed in your brain—like a little switch flipped.

Shiny.

You didn’t mean to start collecting them, really. But one morning you found a button shaped like a star on the deck, glinting in the light, and you just knew it needed to be in your nest. It wanted to be there. And then it was a coin. A little spoon. A bolt from Franky’s workshop. A piece of sea-glass from a beach you stopped at. You stuck them between the woven layers like decorations.

It was… beautiful. Sparkly. Colorful. Yours.

Sometimes the crew noticed. Zoro stepped on a trail of glittery pebbles you left behind one day and muttered something about magpies. Luffy tried to live in your nest once—seriously, climbed in—and only got out when Nami threatened to launch him into the sun.

Robin gave you a whole book full of pressed flowers one afternoon and said, “In case your nest needs something quieter.” You almost cried. You put it right in the center, nestled between a ribbon and a silver spoon.

You kept watch from up there now. Curled in your fluffy, sparkling hoard, wings draped lazily over the side, legs swinging. You liked hearing the chatter of the crew below, the way their voices rose like waves, warm and chaotic. Every now and then, someone would look up and wave. You’d chirp back. Sometimes you dropped them snacks. Sometimes pebbles. Sometimes accidentally dropped Sanji’s soup pot. (That was a bad day.)

But when the ship rocked softly in the calm sea, and the air turned orange with the setting sun, and your nest glowed with all the treasures of your odd little life, you felt something hum deep in your chest.

A warmth.

Not just comfort. Not just safety.

Belonging.

Shiny Sword-Shaped Trouble

You didn’t mean to want them. It was instinct. A harpy thing. A you thing.

You’d been gliding low over the deck after lunch, wings lazy, belly full, mind somewhere between “maybe I should nap” and “maybe I should steal another one of Sanji’s citrus muffins,” when you saw them.

Zoro was sitting cross-legged near the rail, one leg bent, the other stretched out, head tilted just a little under the sun. His shirt was half-open, as usual, and there was a soft breeze moving through his hair. You wouldn’t have looked twice, honestly—he always sat like that. Grumpy. Handsome. Grumpy again.

But it was the swords that caught you.

He had them lined up in front of him, resting on a cloth. Three of them. Long. Sleek. Gleaming.

He was wiping the blade of one—Wado, you thought—slow, careful strokes. And in the light, it shined. Not just metal-shined, but magic-shined. Like it belonged in a treasure chest or a dragon’s hoard or—your nest.

Your wings stiffened mid-flap.

Shiny.

You landed on the crow’s nest without realizing you were flying. Your heart was racing. Something about the way the hilts caught the sun, the way the polish gleamed like stars in daylight—it made your brain go all fizzy.

Zoro’s swords. You wanted them.

But not to take. Not really. Just to… borrow. Just to see what they looked like nestled among your pebbles and ribbons and sea-glass. Just for a moment. A peek. A sparkle.

You fluttered down again an hour later when he was gone, blades all packed away. No swords on the cloth anymore. Nothing shiny. Nothing you could grab.

But now you were thinking about it. A lot.

You didn’t need them. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Zoro would be mad. Zoro might actually murder you in your sleep. Or worse—ignore you forever.

Still…

That night, you laid in your nest on top of the tangerine trees, your wings tucked around you, staring up at the stars.

The nest glimmered around you. Coins, trinkets, shells, tiny bones, marbles, and a cracked mirror that made your face look like a wobbly moon.

But it was missing something.

Shiny.

Sword-shaped.

You curled up tighter.

Maybe… just once… if you asked really really nicely?

Or maybe… if you waited until he was asleep?

You covered your face with your wings and groaned dramatically into the fluff.

You were in trouble.

Big, shiny, sword-shaped trouble.

You waited three days. Three whole days of flying loops over the deck pretending not to stare. Three days of watching Zoro clean his swords in that same quiet, reverent way, like they were sacred. Which—okay—maybe they were. But they were also really shiny. And every time the sun hit them just right, your feathers puffed up and your fingers twitched.

It wasn’t stealing. Not really.

Just… borrowing.

So one night, when the sea was calm and everyone had gone below deck—Robin with her tea, Luffy snoring somewhere in the rigging, Sanji mumbling in his sleep about “lemon zest reduction”—you crept.

Your talons made soft clicks on the wood as you tiptoed across the deck, low to the floor, wings folded tightly against your sides. Your heart was pounding. You were being so sneaky. So smart. So criminally adorable.

And there they were. Propped beside the door to the training room. Zoro’s swords.

Just sitting there.

You licked your lips.

You reached.

The second your fingers brushed the hilt of Wado Ichimonji—

“I wouldn’t.”

You screamed. A real, high-pitched, full-bird shriek that echoed across the entire ship. You tried to flap backward but your wings tangled and you hit the deck with a whump.

Zoro stood in the shadows just a few feet away, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. His shirt was off, towel slung over his neck, sweat still glistening on his chest. Apparently, he’d just finished training.

“Were you—” he squinted. “Were you trying to take my swords?”

You froze, halfway rolled onto your back like a guilty parrot. “…No.”

He walked closer.

You panicked. “OkayyesbutlistenitwasjustbecauseTHEY’RESOSHHINY.”

Zoro stared.

You sat up fast, fluffing your feathers. “Not to steal! Just to look! Maybe nest them for a minute! Just a tiny minute! I wasn’t going to fly away with them or anything—I couldn’t even if I tried, they’re like three tons of angry death metal, which, honestly, is part of the appeal—”

Zoro blinked once.

You clutched your claws together and whispered, “They sparkle.”

He stared for a long moment. Then, to your absolute shock, he snorted. Not a full laugh, but a little exhale through his nose that was basically an earthquake coming from him.

“You’re ridiculous.”

You puffed your cheeks. “You’re mean.”

He turned away, picking up one of the swords and sliding it back into its sheath. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Your heart fluttered faster than your wings.

“Really? You do?” you chirped, scrambling after him on all fours like an overexcited crow. “Can I touch them if I ask first? Maybe just hold them? For a second? For art reasons. Nest reasons. Emotional reasons.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Zoroooo.”

“No.”

“…What if I give you one of my best shiny rocks in exchange?”

He paused at the doorway. Looked over his shoulder.

“Two rocks.”

You gasped. “Deal.”

He shook his head and walked off, muttering, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

But he was smiling. Just a little. Just enough.

And you were already digging through your nest for your shiniest stones, wings flapping in joy, heart soaring like you’d just flown to the moon.

It became a thing. A "you" thing. A "Zoro" thing. A whole-crew-knows-and-nobody-is-surprised-anymore thing.

You tried to steal Zoro’s swords again the very next night. This time, you thought you were clever—waiting until he was dozing off on the Sunny’s lawn deck, snoring gently under the stars. His swords were leaning right next to him, like usual. They were practically begging to be sparkled in your nest.

You tiptoed.

You crept.

You reached—

“Don’t even think about it.”

You yelped, flailing backward into the grass. His eyes were still closed, still snoring, but somehow his mouth had spoken. How?! Was he sword-sensing in his sleep?!

“I wasn’t thinking about anything!” you shouted at him, even though you were tangled in the towel you’d been using as camouflage.

After that… it got worse. For you. For Zoro. For the entire crew. Because you didn’t give up. Oh no. You just got more creative.

Attempt #7: You lowered a tiny grappling hook from the mast while he was napping on the deck. It caught the hilt perfectly. You were so close to lifting Wado into the air when—

SNAP.

Zoro opened one eye and cut the rope in half without even standing up. You screamed. “YOU KILLED MY ROPE SON.”

“You named the rope?”

Attempt #11: You disguised yourself as a laundry bundle. Sanji was doing towels. You curled inside a big blue one and had Chopper accidentally carry you close to the swords.

Zoro didn’t even look up from his bench press. “That towel just chirped.”

“No it didn’t,” Chopper said innocently.

“It did.”

The towel (you) exploded into feathers and tripped into a bucket.

Attempt #16: You enlisted Luffy. Bad idea. You told him you were playing “Sword Snatch,” a game where whoever grabs Zoro’s swords first wins… a pie. Luffy was in immediately. You watched from above while Luffy lunged at Zoro full-force. You didn’t expect Zoro to dodge with his usual calm and yeet Luffy into the sea. You cackled so hard you fell out of the rigging.

By Attempt #20, everyone was aware. Brook would gently say, “Y/N, dear, I believe that’s the twentieth time this week,” every time you snuck by with a fake mustache and a fake mustache for your tail. Robin would hand you a cup of tea as you were sneaking and say, “You’ll get him eventually, maybe in your next life.” Sanji stopped asking where his silverware was going and started replacing it with dull spoons, “just in case you mistake them for swords again.” Chopper got used to patching you up with band-aids shaped like stars. Franky built a trapdoor. You fell into it once. Just once. You keep forgetting where it is. Usopp started selling tickets. “Zoro vs. the Feather Thief, Night 25!” And Nami? Nami just sighed. “If you break one of those swords and Zoro kills you, I will not avenge you. Just so we’re clear.”

Still… every time you failed, every time Zoro stopped you—sometimes with a glare, sometimes with one finger on the hilt—you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Just a little. He was so smug about it. Never raised his voice. Never chased you off. Just… watched. Waited. Blocked. Laughed silently.

And then, one day, he didn’t stop you.

You’d swooped down dramatically with a rope in your beak, determined to snatch the sword right off his hip in one, glorious move. But when you landed—nothing. No glare. No snark. No sword. Just a folded note, tied to the hilt of a broomstick he’d left in its place.

You opened it. It read:

“Nice try, birdbrain. This one’s made of wood.

You want a real one? Beat me in a fight.”

—Zoro

P.S. You won’t.

You stared at it, mouth open, wings flared. Then you shrieked into the sea breeze, clutching the fake sword like it was your heart. The entire crew clapped from the deck below. Zoro just smirked from the shadows, one arm behind his head, the real swords resting at his side.

You hated him.

You loved him.

You were gonna get those shiny death sticks into your nest if it was the last thing you ever did.

It happened on a day like any other. The sun was bright, the sea was calm, the crew was yelling about something you’d stopped paying attention to fifteen minutes ago, and Zoro was, as usual, lounging under the shade near the mainmast, swords beside him like loyal dogs.

You weren’t trying to do it again. You really weren’t. You’d promised Robin. You’d promised Nami. You even pinky-taloned Chopper. No more sword-snatching.

But then Zoro dozed off.

Like, really off. Mouth slightly open, head tilted back, arms crossed over his chest like he was meditating inside a nap. The swords were resting just beside his leg. Close. Tempting. Glinting like forbidden candy.

You hovered. You told yourself, Just one look. Just a little touch.

But your claws brushed the hilt of Wado Ichimonji, and something in your soul snapped. You grabbed it. Not all three. Just one.

And you ran.

No—flew.

You took off in an instant, wings flapping so hard your nest nearly collapsed. The sword was heavier than you expected—long, polished, wrapped in perfect silk—and it sang as you bolted into the sky, laughing like a maniac.

“I GOT IT!” you screeched to the wind. “I GOT THE SHINY STICK!!”

Down below, a shout cut through the chaos like thunder. “Y/N!!”

Zoro.

He was awake. And angry.

But you were fast. You dipped and spun, clutching the sword to your chest like it was a newborn. Seagulls scattered. Clouds split. You looped around the mast twice just because you could.

“Try and catch me, sword man!” you cawed triumphantly.

He did.

You didn’t see him leap. Didn’t see him scale the rigging like a demon in sandals. But suddenly—bam—he was mid-air, arm outstretched, eyes locked on you with terrifying calm.

You shrieked and twisted in a panic. The sword nearly slipped. You gripped tighter.

Zoro landed on the railing behind you, crouched like a predator. “I told you,” he growled, “you wouldn’t get far.”

“Far enough!!” you yelped.

You banked hard toward your nest—your sanctuary, your shrine, the glowing pile of shiny junk that would now include a legendary blade. You could already see the perfect place for it, nestled between the silver spoon and the glass marble you were pretty sure was haunted.

But just before you could reach it—WHAM—a blur of green and a firm, heavy arm wrapped around your middle mid-air.

“Gotcha,” Zoro muttered.

You screeched like an electrocuted parrot, wings flailing, talons kicking at nothing. “UNFAIR UNFAIR YOU’RE TOO HEAVY GET OFF I’M DELICATE—”

You both slammed into a hammock with a boing, tangled in fabric, feathers, and indignation. The sword rolled across the deck with a soft clink.

Zoro didn’t even blink. He just pinned you gently with one arm, face half-buried in your feathers.

You stared up at the sky. “…Did I get further than last time?”

“Fifteen meters,” he grunted. “New record.”

You beamed, despite being completely trapped. “Yesssssss.”

A pause.

Then you said, cautiously, “…Are you gonna kill me?”

He sighed. “Tempting.”

“Can I try again tomorrow?”

“No.”

“…Next week?”

He looked at you. Dead serious. “You touch my swords again and I’m tying your wings down.”

You gasped dramatically. “You’d ground me?”

“I’ll bury you in your own shiny garbage.”

You whined and collapsed in his hold. “Meanest man alive.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t move. His arm stayed right where it was—warm and solid over your chest—and you realized, with a flustered little flutter, that he wasn’t actually letting go.

“…You gonna move?” you mumbled.

“Nope,” he said flatly.

“…This is punishment?”

“This is a warning.”

You grinned. “Can I have Wado’s sheath? Just the sheath?”

“Y/N.”

“…A hilt wrapper?”

“I will throw you.”

You giggled, wings twitching. But you didn’t ask again. Not that day.

The next time you made your move, you thought you were being extra careful. You’d waited until the dead of night, when the ship creaked softly and everyone else was fast asleep. You tiptoed—well, as much as a harpy tiptoes with talons—toward the swords, heart pounding like a drum solo.

But Zoro was already there. Not with a glare this time, not with a word. No, this time he was waiting.

You reached out slowly, fingers brushing the polished hilt of Wado Ichimonji, and—WHAP—a quick, firm smack caught the back of your head.

You yelped and stumbled forward, blinking up at him.

Zoro just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Again, you reached.

WHAP.

This time, a soft but unmistakably annoyed tap on your wing.

“Oi,” he muttered, voice low but serious.

You rubbed your head, glaring playfully. “Quit it!”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say more.

You tried again.

WHAP.

This time, the smack was gentler, like a reminder from a stubborn cat who just wants you to stop petting it right now.

You flapped your wings in mock outrage. “Stop! I’m not a baby!”

Zoro didn’t laugh. Instead, he gave you a look that said, You’re lucky I’m this patient.

Over the next few days, this became a ritual. You’d approach the swords. He’d catch you with a light smack on the head, a gentle flick on the wing, or sometimes—just sometimes—a soft pinch on your side that made you squawk and squirm. No yelling. No harsh words. Just those little taps of “Back off, featherbrain,” and then he’d walk away without another word.

The crew? Oh, they loved it. Luffy tried to imitate Zoro once, smacking your tail feathers with a big goofy grin. You retaliated by tickling his ribs until he rolled away laughing. Sanji just sighed, muttering about how you two were “like an old married couple with a very weird fight.” Even Robin raised an eyebrow, commenting, “You’re certainly persistent.”

And Zoro? Well… Sometimes, late at night, you’d catch him staring at you, sword sheathed, arms relaxed. No smacks. No scolding. Just quiet acceptance. And maybe, just maybe, a little fondness hiding behind those serious eyes.