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stevebabey · 1 month

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"Alright, here we go!" The bartender announces, leaning up to place the drinks on the bar.

"That's one whiskey, neat—" He says, sliding the lowball cocktail glass with amber liquid in front of Eddie.

"—And one Whammin' Slammin' Booty-Bangin' Pina Colada."

He places the extravagant cocktail in front of Steve. It's decorated to the nines with a straw, an umbrella, a piece of pineapple, and a little bit of tinsel on a toothpick. A whole party decoration in a drink.

"You guys have a good night." The bartender says warmly, already moving down the bar to tend to other customers.

Eddie stares down at the whiskey in the glass before him and pouts a little. Beside him and watching his boyfriend closely, Steve rolls his eyes.

"Oh, quit being dramatic," Steve says, sliding the cocktail across the bar so it's in front of Eddie, who had ordered it. He steals the glass of whiskey back at the same time.

"It happens every time."

"It happens most times."

"That isn't much better!" Eddie protests, even as he leans down and takes a long sip from the straw while they both get to their feet and leave the bar. Steve's hunting for a table they can snag, his eyes narrowed in focus. Eddie follows him blindly, his cocktail cupped in both hands.

"I'm serious, Steve! What is it about this adorable face—" He says, gesturing to himself, barely letting go of the straw to talk. It doesn't seem to faze him that Steve doesn't even glance back. "—Says I don't want to enjoy a Whammin' Bammin' Big Booty Colada?"

Steve comes to a stop, pausing his search for a moment to look back at Eddie. His expression seems unimpressed on the surface but Eddie can see his lips twitching up at the corners.

"We've had this conversation too many times, babe." He sighs halfheartedly and takes a quick sip of his own whiskey, eyes casting back out across the bar. "You have scary dog energy, you know this. You specifically dress like this on purpose."

Eddie picks up the pineapple wedged on the edge of his glass and bites into it, sending it down with another sip of his cocktail as Steve leads them further into the back of the bar. He finally spots a spare empty table.

"C'mon, I think I found one." Steve urges, one hand snaking back to make sure Eddie's following.

"Is it a crime to wish to not fall victim to stereotypes?" Eddie prattles on, following Steve duly by slipping his hand into Steve's outstretched one. His cocktail wobbles precariously as he takes another gulp.

"Like when that waitress gave me your awful black coffee! And you got my delicious delicacy that I paid extra hard-earned money for..."

i like to think that when steve and eddie go out, people always lean into their assumptions and are like hmm ok preppy boy with the polo? oh he gets the fruity cocktail! and eddie is always like >:( i don't want this expensive puddle of piss gimme the bonanza supreme cocktail pls. like excuse me i paid for that.

#steve's got expensive booze taste bcos he partied lots as a teen & he got into his dad's expensive stuff #and now it's all he likes #eddie doesn't drink loads cos he usually smokes instead so when he does drink he never wants to taste the alcohol #and he likes that they're pretty and come w fun things :)#steve also likes black coffee cos he was on that Sports Diet through hs #eddie packs his with sugar and creamer if he can #hehehe have this headcanon <3 from me to you #that i thought of rn #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie headcanon #heheheheh <3 #i also love drinks with the most insane names. like please tell me you know what i mean #ruby writes steddie

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skatingbi · 6 months

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So hear me out on my headcanon guys:

Sanji with heterochromia (i cant spell that fuckin word man..) where one eye is blue and another is brown. He always hides the blue eye.

The first one to notice is Zoro, who is immediantly like "holy shit youre eyes are pretty" and sanji is like "what the FUCK"

Actually fuck it im gonna write about this nobody can stop me.

Sometimes, on lonley nights in the gallery, when Sanji is busy prepping, he looks in the reflection of his knife. Underneath the frizzy mess of a fringe that is part of his hair reveals the blue eye he struggles looking at. He stares, scrutinizing that light blue in the gleam of his knife gripped tightly in his hand. He looks away to force his attention back on prep work. His hands are always slightly unsteady after those moments. He always ends up with a cut on his hand one way or another on those nights.

When Sanji was a kid, his brothers would use his heterochromia as a weapon against him. He was the freak with two colored eyes. They would say his blue eye was creepy, too. Not only was he weak but also too different to be called their brother.

When you're a kid, you take these insults to heart. Eventually, when you're barely into adulthood, they'll still plague you. They become a part of you, just like how Zeff's teachings became a part of Sanji.

Judge looked at his eyes with disgust masked by indifference. It was another reason for Sanji to assume why he was the failure. The outcast. The runt of the litter.

His mother had blue eyes. She always claimed Sanji got his blue eye from her because her father had heterochromia, too. That was the only time little Sanji felt normal. When she died, Sanji started to grow out his hair to hide the only thing he had left of her: her eyes.

Now, Sanji still hides her eyes from view. Realistically, Sanji is fully aware that none of the crew would give a rats ass what he looked like. Regardless, old habits die hard. He feels safe under the mask he made for himself. As he goes about preparing lunch, perhaps grilled sea king again with how luffy is always eager to fight those things, he lets his mind wander to his eyes more. While hands expertly move through his knife like an extension of his body, he thinks about the mess of blond hair that's always in the way. He'd never admit it out loud, but his hair actually bothers him. Since it started growing out, it gets everywhere; his mouth, in his eyes, and tangled in the buttons of his shirt. Is sanji happy with his longer hair? Absolutely. It's a nusiance to leave it down constantly, though.

As he's thinking this, he's blowing the fringe of hair covering his face out of the way every so often so it stops tickling his nose. He continues to evenly slice through a portion of sea king meat until somebody, Nami he realizes immediantly, speaks up.

"Do you need a hair tie, sanji?" Nami asks sweetly. Her smile is radiant, as always, while she looks up from the map shes been studying. Sanji didnt even realize Nami came in and made the kitchen table into a study until now, but he doesnt dwell on it. Nami is welcome in his kitchen, after all.

"Oh no, thank you, Nami-swan! I think I just need a haircut soon," Sanji lies as he's moving through the kitchen. He gives Nami a quick smile before turning back to the meat on the cutting board and avoids Nami's gaze under the disguise of being busy. His lie wasn't as believable as he wanted it to be, especially when he's stumbling over his words while he is usually eloquent with them towards Nami and Robin.

"But until then, you should take one! I probably have hundreds lying around my room anyways," She says. It's a peace offering designed to be in Sanji's language of communication. It secretly says he's getting that hairtie whether he wants it or not, and Sanji is weak enough to accept the offering. He takes the hair tie with a grateful smile, wrapping it around his wrist and going back to his current task. Nami and Sanji work in comfortable silence after that, but the hair tie weighs on his wrist like a weighted bracelet.

A few days pass by. Through every single one, he stares at the hair tie in the morning. He really should tie his hair back. It reaches his shoulders for gods sake, and it keeps getting in his mouth - but that small part of him that clings onto grief like its all that he knows refuses to. He doesn't think he can bring himself to share the only part of himself that he truly loves deep down. What if the crew really thinks it's weird? What if his brothers are right?

These what if's roam in the back of his mind. They lurk just beneath the surface like an unknown predator hidden in murky water. He ignores it along with the anxiety that crawls up his throat every time he looks at his wrist.

Then, a week passes by. Now he's in his kitchen making a simple breakfast for his nakama. Franky, in particular, will enjoy this since his tastes lie within American style food most of the time. He focuses on seasoning the eggs, some of them cooked differently to cater to everyone's tastes. While he goes through the familiar and therapeutic motions of cooking, the door opens to reveal an annoying head of mossy hair and the steady noise of three swords bumping each other at the hip.

" Oi, go to sleep in your own bunk. I dont need you stinkin' up my kitchen while im trying to work." He utters without looking up from the stove.

"Why can't I just sleep here shit cook?" Zoro grunts. Sanji hears him shuffle around on the gallery's couch behind him. He's probably lying down, or maybe he'll sleep sitting up again, or maybe he'll watch Sanji cook. That's the most irritating one, which usually ends up with them fighting out on the deck one way or another.

"Because youre fuckin' annoying, get out."

"The hell I am, I'm taking a nap here."

"Oh my - You know what?" Sanji whips around to glare at Zoro, making sure the knife he was using is now in his hand to point at the source of his ire, "Fine, but if I hear a single snore out of you I'm kicking you into the ocean!" He threatens and turns around to finish up with breakfast. By now, all he has left is pancakes. The batter was prepped earlier, so now it's just focusing on pouring evenly. It's task that's menial but still important to him regardless.

His hair is covering his face too much. He tries to shake his head to flip it to the side. It falls back to where it was before he can pick the bowl of batter back up. He brushes it over his shoulder, and it simply flows back over it. He blows his hair out of the way, a classic move, but not even that works and he's slamming the bowl down on the counter before he can even stop himself and walks away from his work to grab the hairtie from around his wrist. In a few fluid motions, he ties his hair back haphazardly into a poor attempt at a low bun, but it's out of his face, and now he can focus.

He's too deep in concentration to even remember that he has heterochromia in the first place. Cooking lowers his guard unlike anything else in the world. The gallery acts like a safe space and cooking is his comfort. He still forgets, too, while calling for Zoro to get his lazy ass up to help since he's decided to loiter in his kitchen.

"Hey moss, if you're gonna laze around my kitchen, set the table for me." His request demand is met with a middle finger, which Sanji gladly returns as he walks over to the couch to kick Zoro on the stomach. The half asleep annoyance is now suddenly alert and glares at Sanji for a moment before it's quickly replaced with a look Sanji has yet to add to his mental notes he likes to call "Marimo Dictionary". Zoro's eyebrows are slightly raised, and his eyes glitter with something Sanji rarely sees. He's never been able to place a name on that look. Now he's confused. "What? Dont give me that youre tired crap youre not fuckin 10." He says.

Zoro is still looking at him, though, and now Sanji looks back with confusion because what the fuck is he-

Oh. His eyes.

Shit.

Sanji rips the hairtie out of his hair at light speed, probably pulling a few strands out by accident in the process but he could honestly care less when theres something more important. Like whatever the fuck just happened.

Before he can turn away and go set the table himself to distance himself from the marimo, Zoro's hand moves suddenly to grab his wrist, stopping him from running away.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Zoro pleads. And what the fuck. Zoro has never said anything like that and its fucking with Sanji's head because what the fuck. "You...uh." He continues in his signature graceless way. "Your eyes..." He pauses after that, sitting up and looking at Sanji, but not just looking, he's looking.

"Marimo," Sanji's own voice is riddled with anxiety with how shaky it is now. "Let me go dumbass," He demands but it could have been mistaken for him begging with how much he's struggling to keep himself together.

He's anticipating the worst. He knows what he's expecting. Sanji has experienced it countless times before, and he's aware he will again right now while a pancake is probably burning on the pan for all he knows.

It doesnt.

Zoro is looking at him still, maintaining eye contact but also darting between both eyes. He's looking at him like those golden eyes are looking into his soul and its too much.

It's too much because Zoro's response is uncharacteristically soft in so many ways. Zoro speaks to him like he's speaking with reverence, "Your eyes are beautiful."

Sanji shatters on the gallery floor there. His soul is bare for Zoro to see suddenly and that terrifies Sanji. Nobody has ever told him he's beautiful. Especially his eyes. He yanks his wrist from Zoro's grasp and speed walks to the stove to turn it off and remove the burnt pancake from the pan. He doesnt respond. He cant, not when his heart flutters when it should have been anchored down by rejection.

Then, Sanji walks up to Zoro, grabs onto both his shoulders, pushes him out the gallery door with surprisingly little resistance, and slams it shut. He leans against the door, sliding down until he's sitting on the floor with his head tucked between his knees. His face is burning and his face is probably red like a tomato right now. He stares at the ground with wide eyes and a weirdly giddy feeling in his chest and stomach nearly akin to happiness but also dangerously close to feeling freaked the hell out.

"What the fuck."

#Bro...I will make this a series on god #like man...writing the second half of this was SO FUCKIN FUN #Anyways sanji has heterochromia supremacy #zosan #one piece #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji being called beautiful is his gay awakening #and he's late preparing breakfast after that #he'll probably smoke an entire pack of cigs after that too #somebody help this poor disaster #Sanji has Heterochromia

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