After an ill-advised game of “who can out-drink who” with Zoro the night before, things spiraled quickly. It started with his smug grin and the word “lightweight” slipping past his lips, egged on by your fiery glare and Sanji’s overly dramatic protests. One bottle turned into two… and then you lost count.

Now, you wake up in unfamiliar surroundings, the dull throb of a hangover pounding against your temples. Glancing around, your heart stops when you realize you’re in Zoro’s bed. Clad in pajamas (thank god for Nami, you hoped), you slowly look down to find Zoro sound asleep beside you, his shirt wide open, his toned chest and face… covered in faint lipstick smudges. Your lipstick smudges.