ZORO wields his swords with reverence—an extension of himself.
he walks with the familiar weights secured tightly by his side and tucked into their scabbards. one hand rests on the pommel of the wado ichimonji, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
he’s trained his reaction time to be faster than any bullet, any weapon, any person who stands in his way from becoming the world’s greatest swordsman. he cuts down opponents without a second thought, bodies dropping to the floor, one after the other.
his swords are made to be felt, not seen.
but zoro takes a sick pleasure in slowly approaching the cowering man in the furthest corner of the bar, littered with the corpses of his slain lackeys. he feeds off the raw fear bleeding out of the man, mixing with the metallic tang of blood staining the wooden floor. a sadistic grin creeps onto his face when the man begins to plead for his life—for mercy.
the man’s life was over the moment he put his disgusting hands on you.
the wado ichimonji is unforgiving, slowly carving through the center of the man’s chest. zoro doesn’t stop, ignoring the way screaming pleas become warbled gurgling and blood coughed onto his mouth and chin. zoro doesn’t stop, watching the tip emerge from the man’s back, glistening crimson in the moonlight.
zoro doesn’t stop until the man slumps forward, submitting to his blade. dead.
The Straw Hats When You're In Danger: Zoro x Reader
Author's Note: The second one of this little series, where I put you, the heart of one of the straw hats, in danger! Enjoy 💕
- Roronoa Zoro believes he is the master of subtlety. That no one in the crew realises he favours you above all else. That you must only have the slightest inkling that he feels anything for you at all. Roronoa Zoro is also kind of an idiot.
- It could not be more obvious to everyone that comes across the straw hats that the swordsman views himself as your personal bodyguard, and you as his one and only. He volunteers to explore with you no matter how many times Sanji points out that he never gets to stroll around with you. He takes the seat by your side, even if it means physically removing someone from that chair. He looks to you whenever a decision needs making, or his day is getting tough, or even if he's just concerned that it's been too long since he last looked at you and he might have wandered off too far from your grace.
- So when a pirate who Zoro turned over to the marines back in his bounty hunting days seeks him out for revenge, it's obvious you are the most effective target. The escaped criminal seeks out your crew, observing you for a short while before revealing himself and demanding a re-match as penance. Not with the swordsman that captured him, but with you, so Zoro can learn how it feels to lose something.
- Zoro has to pretend that he doesn't understand why you're the one this creep has challenged to a fight, like his whole heart isn't aching and burning with rage at the thought of you getting hurt because of something he did in his past. He has to stop his expression twisting into the deep displeasure the whole situation gives him, naturally looking to you to see if you can start to grasp the gravity of the situation for him.
- You look completely unsurprised that this pirate has challenged you. After all, if Roronoa was any more obviously in love with you, you'd have a wedding ring by now. You know the swordsman dotes on you, and worships the ground you so frequently walk beside him on, and you know that when he's ready he'll address all of those feelings. But he's not there yet, so you don't push it, just holding his gaze as he tries to work out how he can keep you safe without forcing himself to admit the depth of his longing in front of the whole crew.
"Here." It's only one word, and yet it leaves every member of your crew staring, open-mouthed, in disbelief at Zoro. Even your pirate challenger finds himself taking an instinctive step backwards, the weight of the action enough to thicken the air around you.
Roronoa stands with one hand extended towards you, holding his sword for you take. His favourite sword, the one draped in white, that never leaves his side and only you know the whole story behind. He knows this sword will keep you safe. Won't let anything happen to you. It's as close as he can come to stepping in for you without admitting exactly what you mean to him, but you realise it anyway. It's not something you thought you'd ever get to hold, even with Zoro's devotion to you, your eyes fixed on his as slowly you take the weight of it in your hands.
"Thank you." You can barely get enough air in your lungs to say the phrase, wanting nothing more than to take this as your chance to finally reassure him that his love is not unrequited. That you'd do the same for him. That you like how close he is to you, no matter what.
But there'll be time for that later, for now you've got a swordfight to win.
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Caution: this text includes graphic descriptions of involuntary violence/abuse (themes of mind control), vomiting, self-harm (scratching hands) and blood. Be mindful of your media consumption.
[When Miss Goldenweek paints you angry and vicious, Zoro has to be the one to wipe the paint off. There's one problem: he absolutely refuses to use force against you.]
Sanji's version
You used to find Zoro’s blasé attitude charming. It was like a breath of fresh air when you’d get too deep into your thoughts or let your anxiety run wild. Zoro would just shrug, give you a ten-word response and move on. In all their vagueness, his answers always show you a new, healthier, perspective – if it can’t be helped, don’t worry and if something can be done, then why lose sleep over it? Zoro never failed to be a dependable rock you can lean on.
Now that you think about it, stuck in a jungle with dinosaurs, his lack of care is entirely infuriating. What was once an easy-going attitude currently appears to be complete and utter disinterest in your person. His laconic answers are nothing more than doing the bare minimum to keep you around – just enough engagement to have a pretty thing on his arm whenever he’s bored. Now that you think about it, he tends to form longer sentences when he’s bickering with Sanji. It seems that arguing with the cook elicits more emotions from him than spending time with you, whom he claims to love. For the record, Zoro has never used the “l-word” towards you. Perhaps that should have been your first clue. You’re left guessing as to the nature of your relationship, using only breadcrumbs of his attention as evidence. He seems completely content with that arrangement and it’s no wonder – Zoro gets all the benefits of being in a relationship without acknowledging any of the commitments.
He’s walking a few paces ahead of you, hand loosely gripping the sword as he slashes through some of the thicker bushes. Zoro is marching on through the jungle like some sort of a pioneer, when anyone who’s met him knows that the great swordsman is capable of getting lost on a roundabout. Ridiculous.
With gritted teeth, you sigh audibly. Who put that joker in charge anyway? Since when are you supposed to listen to that man-child with swords sharper than his brains?
“You’re lost, Zoro,” you call out to him. “Let’s turn back.”
“I know where I’m going,” he answers, without as much as looking at you.
“No, you don’t. You’re clearly too stupid for that.”
The moment you hear the insult in your own voice, something switches inside you – anger and frustration suddenly disappear, like fog does in the early hours of a spring morning. Even if you were cross with him, it’s no excuse for being mean to him. When did you get so rude with him?
Zoro momentarily stops. Slowly, he turns around to look at you. His stern gaze, along with a blank face, doesn’t tell you much in terms of what’s going on inside his head. Whether he’s angry, surprised or doesn’t care at all, it’s impossible to tell.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The wanton tone of his voice drips from his words and burns through you like acid. “I didn’t realise I found myself in the presence of an expert navigator.”
He doesn’t seem interested in a response as Zoro turns around and continues walking forward. For a moment, you’re just standing there, watching his back steadily move away from you. Whatever guilt you have felt for being rude to Zoro is completely gone now. If he’s allowed to be snappy, why shouldn’t you be? Perhaps it’s high time you finally stopped excusing his childish behaviour and dish out what he makes you take day after day.
“This is the longest sentence you’ve said to me today.” Your voice cuts through the pleasant rustling of jungle foliage, the first lightning that splits the black sky on a stormy night.
Zoro marches on, swinging his sword to cut through vines and bushes. “You keep score?” he asks in a casual voice, seemingly unaffected by your comment.
Could he at least pretend to care about what you have to say?
Your hand clenches into a tight fist, nails digging into sensitive skin. “Yeah, a whole lot of zeros in there.”
He stops again. Zoro turns slightly, now standing sideways towards you. A tired sigh leaves his lips as the man barely manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“If you like talking, go find the cook,” he says. Despite the blasé attitude, there’s tension in his voice. “I’m sure he’d be glad to talk your ear off.” Having said that, Zoro turns his back to you once more. His shoulders sit strangely higher than they did before.
For a second, you’re completely speechless. It’s as though he’s grown weary of pretending to like you or even tolerate you. As long as you were convenient to him, Zoro was fine with putting up with you. Now that you’ve developed some backbone, he can’t be bothered.
“Hey, you green-haired ass! I’m still talking to you!”
“And I’m not listening.”
“I hate you!” Your voice is carried by the echo of the jungle, long-held fury shaking ancient trees at their very roots. The chirping of small critters or insects suddenly dies down.
The silence that follows your words is strangely loud. It feels as though for a moment even the genius loci of the forest remains unnervingly quiet, awaiting what comes next.
Zoro stands frozen, only a couple of metres away from you. He would resemble a marble statue if it weren’t for a slight twitch of his hand – he’s stopping himself from doing something terribly unwise.
His long-awaited answer comes in a shaky, strangely quiet voice:
“Cool.”
Roronoa Zoro is tearing through the forest like he has a personal grievance against the island of Little Garden. The loud rustling of foliage could well be a never-ending plaint from the woodland spirits residing in each leaf and each flower destroyed underneath Zoro’s heavy boots. With each swing of his sharp sword, the vines are silently begging for an explanation. When have they insulted him? Why is he taking his anger out on them?
Zoro’s breath is forced out of his lungs as he hits the ground with a loud thud. He has no chance to inhale – an arm wraps around his neck, it’s hold quickly tightening with surprising strength. Two legs circle his waist, rendering him immobile to simply shake off the attack. Tears momentarily fill his eyes. The foliage underneath him blurs into a vague sea of greenery.
Somehow, Zoro manages to keep his focus instead of giving in to the rising, primal panic of suffocating. With a good kick against the ground, he turns over, forcing his assailant to lie against his rather large frame and the dirt. The right arm keeps choking him. Before the left hand can rest on the back of his head and finish the move, Zoro twists so that he and the attacker are lying on their left sides. The hand is stuck under the weight of his body. He easily kicks off the legs around his waist. Both of Zoro’s arms lift the assailant’s right hand and the swordman swiftly slides out of the deadly hold.
Zoro gasps for air. With oxygen returning to his lungs, the world surrounding him becomes sharper. Perhaps he was choked for a little too long, as he can’t quite believe the image before him is real and not a crazed nightmare brought by asphyxiation:
You’re staring at him with a frenzied look in your eyes. Fury melds with something as empty as it is terrifying; it’s as though your soul, your humanity, has left you for good. This husk has once responded to your name but it has nothing in common with the woman nagging at Zoro to clean up after himself or cuddling him as he sleeps into late, afternoon hours.
He knows you’re not being yourself. There is no doubt in his mind that if you had any control over your actions, you wouldn’t be trying to choke him. Still, he remains frozen. To his own surprise, Zoro doesn’t feel any will to fight. Even as much as defending himself carries the risk of hurting you. You wouldn’t hold that against him; he knows that. His heart, however, refuses to listen to reason.
I had no choice! You made me do it! I did it for your own good!
Isn’t that exactly what all brutes say? If he raises his hand against you, what exactly separates Roronoa Zoro from a violent tyrant? As the world is long and wide, is there a deity that would accept his excuse and grant him absolution for such a sordid sin?
Perhaps the question should be reiterated: could he ever deserve your grace and forgiveness for acting no better than a savage?
His moment of reckoning is fast approaching. Whatever beast resides inside your body now, it crawls on top of Zoro once more. Hands that used to caress and cradle are wrapped around his neck. They are choking his life out of him, yet he can’t force himself to fight back. To some degree, he’s willing to accept such an end.
Your voice sounds hoarse, croaked. It doesn’t resemble human sounds. “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired of your bullshit, Zoro.”
The realisation settles in his viscera like a blunt knife slowly being pushed through each layer of his body: there is no malevolent spirit, no demon or anything of that sort. All of the anger, violence and murderous hands… it’s you.
“What… the hell?” With your hands tightly wrapped around his throat, Zoro’s words come out as a wheeze.
“After all I’ve done for you!” One of your hands leaves his throat only to grab his jaw. You pull his head up a few inches and smash it against the ground underneath you. “All you had to do was be fucking grateful, you vermin.”
Zoro repeats to himself that something strange had to happen for you to turn into a beast blinded by rage. As you keep hitting his head against the dirt, the quiet reassurance inside him dies down. It’s replaced by high-pitched ringing. The deafening sound is disorienting, slowly making Zoro incapable of telling left from right.
His dying need to survive takes over for a moment. Large arms try to push you off of the man with pathetically weak shoves, no stronger than a child. He could free himself. Zoro knows that. However, a cruel sense of loyalty stops him from exercising any more of his power; Roronoa Zoro can’t bring himself to even risk hurting you. The infamous pirate hunter is going to die on some god-forsaken island because he can’t stand the sole thought of being unkind to you. Not a glorious end by any means but a fitting one. He vowed not to raise his hand against you and Zoro would be damned not to keep that promise.
Some die for honour, others die with it.
Everything stills. The ringing in his ears quiets down a little. A sense of relief washes over him. For a moment, he wonders whether this is what death feels like: time stops, the world becomes silent and he simply drifts away, as if carried by languid ocean waves. Peace, at last.
If there is some higher being watching over him, they’re making themself known. The hands clenching around his neck and jaw pull back. As Zoro tries to breathe again, a wheezing cough disturbs each shallow inhale. The weight of your body leaves him as quickly as it caged him to the ground in the first place.
When Zoro finally manages to sit up, he’s met with a quite dramatic scene. You’re leaning against a nearby tree, trembling body curling into itself in a futile attempt to become so small you could slip through the cracks into another universe where none of this had taken place. Tears are running down your face. Your breathing turns into shallow pants, chasing air that keeps escaping your lungs. Nails scratch palms with obsessive fervour, almost breaking open the sensitive skin. It’s as though you’re trying to remove the sickening sensation of feeling Zoro’s life slowly leaving him.
He should be angry, wary. The same person tried to kill him mere minutes ago. Zoro may be a seasoned swordman but right now, he is only a man. And this man has to bear witness to how the woman he loves is losing her sanity, crushed underneath the weight of guilt that might not even belong to her.
The woodland shrubbery rustles underneath his feet as Zoro steps towards you. Immediately, you look up from your scratched hands and try to crawl back further into the tree trunk behind your back. There is nowhere else for you to go.
“Don’t come any closer!” you yell. Despite his better judgment, Zoro stops. The confusion and terror in your eyes are already gnawing at his lovesick heart. He doesn’t dare make it worse. “I don’t…” Your voice dies in your throat. How can you even explain yourself when you don’t understand what’s going on? “I don’t know what happened. I-I can’t control it.”
Some part of him begins to wonder whether this is some ploy to gain an advantage over him. Zoro, being just a man, decides to trust your words. He forgoes ideas of schemes or betrayals. You are under someone’s influence but demons, witches and evil spirits are all bedtime fairytales for unruly children. Since there is no magic involved, there must be something…
A speck of red catches his eye. There, right above your ankle, is a swirl painted on your skin. He’s seen it before.
“Miss Goldenweek,” Zoro says quietly, suddenly understanding what exactly had taken place in the jungle. The fight, the choking, the fear. “I’m getting that paint off of you and then I’m going to kill her,” he states. His voice carries no emotion, as though Zoro is announcing something completely ordinary, like killing someone is a routine on par with taking a shower and tying his shoes.
Hearing him mention paint and Miss Goldenweek, you start examining your entire body. There’s no way to tell when the hallucinogenic chemicals will start working again. When that happens, Zoro might not have as much luck as he had before. Considering his state, the fact that he is somehow still conscious and lucid, there’s no point in hoping for another miracle. He might, finally, drift away with the ocean waves.
The moment your eyes fall on the red paint above your ankle, something switches inside you: your head is filled with strange, violent thoughts that you grow to agree with. It’s impossible to tell where Miss Goldenweek’s work ends and you begin. As the whispers of fury gnaw at your brain and force you to believe them, a strange sensation burns right under your skin. It feels like a call to action that cannot be ignored. You have to move, to hit something or crush in your hands, maybe that will be some relief.
You have to make him pay.
Even now, he’s standing a few paces away from you, staring down at your curled body. He doesn’t offer to help you stand up. Your hands are almost scratched raw and he’s completely unbothered. Zoro couldn’t care less. As if a selfish, childish man-thing like him could ever look past the tip of his own nose. The fact that he’s refusing to fight back is further proof of how little he thinks of you. He doesn’t think your tantrum is worth as much as breaking a sweat. After all, he won’t have any trouble finding another commodity to take your place. One with even less backbone, perhaps.
You lunge at Zoro with speed and strength that surprises both of you. He falls, hitting the ground once more. This time, however, Zoro is prepared. When you try to put your hands on his neck, he grabs them. His hold is firm, yet strangely gentle considering the circumstance – he’s using just enough strength to keep your arms in place. In an attempt to gain more leverage against him, you pull your legs further up his torso. You’re almost sitting on top of his chest, knees closing in on his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Zoro takes notice of the red paint staining your skin. It’s withing reach, only if he decides to lower his defense. Not exactly a great choice.
The decision is made for him. Perhaps there is something, or someone, watching over him. Frustrated with your inability to end Zoro’s life, you sink your teeth into his forearm. Unfamiliar sweet and metallic taste overwhelms your senses, warm liquid running down your chin in a thin streak.
A groan of pain rumbles inside his throat. Zoro clenches his jaw, trying desperately to regain control over himself. He knows what he has to do.
Zoro takes advantage of your temporary interest in chewing on his forearm. He reaches his other hand towards your leg. The red paint smears into a stain that looks more like a rash, rather than an artistic design.
That unnerving silence again. It is the stillness of nature in the face of a prowling predator; the tense quiet of a necropolis awaiting its new resident.
You crawl off of Zoro in clumsy, hastened moves. He’s still within reach when your body shakes with emesis. Blood, bile and saliva mix in your mouth, only to be vomited onto the green foliage below you. A sour smell fills your nostrils, making you even more sick.
He’s quite unsure what he should do, so he settles for the most simple action. Zoro kneels beside you, a warm hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. He keeps whispering something but in your state of mind, you only catch every other “you’re okay” and “I’m right here”. Zoro consoling his would-be killer would sound hilarious if it wasn’t so sad.
There’s no telling how much time has passed until you stopped retching and sat down. Sweat and tears mix into one sign of suffering. The raw skin of your palms burns. Your whole body is tingling with numbness. If only you could claw your way out of it. Maybe then you could finally say that the one who tried to kill Zoro is not you; only then would it be true.
“So, uhm…” Zoro hangs his voice, silently debating whether he truly wants to meet the consequences of his pending question. “Do you really hate me?”
Roronoa Zoro is a formidable man. He towers over others and demands respect solely through his presence. A simple flicker of his gaze could bark orders that should not be defied. The man in front of you, however, has little in common with the infamous pirate hunter. He appears as a completely different Roronoa Zoro – small, fidgety, unsure. His silence no longer creates an aura of power but that of a boy wondering whether he deserves the love he so desperately craves.
“No,” you whisper, voice hoarse from throwing up. “I don’t hate you, Zoro.” The words bring you some sense of relief. It’s as though you’re expelling the remnants of Miss Goldenweek’s sick game out of you. Maybe it’s you who needs more convincing than Zoro. “I could never bring myself to hate you.”
He only hums in response. It’s hard to tell whether he believes you. He wants to believe, that much is certain.
“I care about you,” says Zoro. The sound is quiet, unsure. In some way, it’s fearful. What if some other incomprehensible malice hears his confession? “A lot.”
“I know.”
It is quite symbolic that it’s Zoro he reaches for you. Whatever strength is left in him, he uses it to pull you towards him in a tight embrace. Your head rests in the crook of his neck. One of Zoro’s arms circles your shoulder. Quite unfortunately, you have the perfect view of the bite on his forearm. Dark, crimson blood is already drying, leaving long streaks along his skin. This your doing. Your cardinal sin, a stain that shall cling to your very soul.
The rustling of jungle foliage almost drowns out your whisper. “I could’ve killed you.”
“Fat chance.”
Zoro’s eyes also stay on the wound. The bite will remind him for the rest of his days: Roronoa Zoro could fight back, and yet he didn’t. When it mattered, he chose loyalty and love over his own survival. Some might call that foolish. There is, however, much wisdom in that final sacrifice. To take lives in the name of adoration is easy. The tragedy belongs to someone else. The killer gains glory and power in exchange for their humanity, if there still is something to sacrifice. Death in the name of love is not unlike a leap of faith. Will it change anything? The echo of church bells and marching cortege shall repeat the answer until it joins the silence of aeons past: I hope.
Perhaps that is the greatest show of strength. To know that proving your skill or prowess doesn’t always make one a winner. That to win one must be willing to bleed, for to bleed is to be alive.
Hiiii! I don’t know if you’re taking requests right now but I would LOVE to request a zoro x Insomniac reader, like she can almost never fall asleep and sleeps maybe 2hrs a night
The Water's Fine (Zoro x Reader)
One Piece | Zoro | 3.5k | Masterlist
“If we get any wind, you’re going to be left behind.”
You didn’t bother to open your eyes. “Nami said the wind would only pick up later.”
Zoro clicked his tongue. “You trust her to be exactly right?”
“More than I trust you to know about navigation.”
The ocean rocked you in slow, uneven swells, lifting and lowering you just enough to keep your muscles working beneath the surface. Sunlight pressed warm against your face and chest while the rest of you drifted cool beneath the waterline. The Sunny loomed close enough that you could hear the creak of wood between waves, though Zoro’s voice reached you warped and muffled through the water. You tipped your head back to clear your ears, lifting just enough to hear him properly.
“Sorry?”
“I said you should get out. I want to nap before these idiots get bored.”
You cracked an eye open to squint up at him. “You don’t have to watch me. I’m not about to sink under the waves the moment you turn your back.”
“How am I meant to know that?”
“Do you think I have a devil fruit in my pocket that I’m going to pull out and eat?”
He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth right as he froze, momentary annoyance disappearing in a second as his gaze snapped past you.
“Something – ”
Zoro launched himself over the rail and steel flashed through the sky. The air cracked sharp enough to sting your ears. The force of the slice tore through the space in front of you, splitting the surface of the ocean open as though it had been struck by something solid.
A wall of water surged toward you, towering and uneven, streaked white with churn and foam as it collapsed in on itself. The wave slammed into you; breath knocked from your lungs as you were shoved beneath the surface.
Your back hit the side of the Sunny and the impact burst what little air you had left into a scatter of bubbles.
A sharp ringing filled your ears, drowning out everything else as the world tilted sideways. For half a second you didn’t know which way was up, your body suspended in churning water that pulled at your limbs from every direction.
Then you saw it. Right in front of you.
A massive shape, split clean down the middle, body still moving as it sank. The jaw hung open, rows of teeth bared wide. That had been… you hadn’t even noticed it was there. You’d almost been…
The sea king drifted close enough that you saw the thin, cloudy film glaze over its eye as it sank. The sheer size of it stretched beyond what your mind could properly hold before the dark swallowed it whole.
Something moved beside you and you panicked.
You thrashed without thinking, limbs jerking violently as panic hit all at once, your body trying to fight something you couldn’t see. The endless abyss surrounding you suddenly held far too many terrors. You scratched at what was holding you as it pulled you upward into the light from above.
You shattered the surface with a harsh, raw cough. Seawater tore from your throat as the sun beamed onto your skin and you clung desperately to what you’d been fighting so furiously against not a second earlier.
Zoro’s arms locked around you like iron bands, unyielding as he dragged you upward, his grip tight enough to keep you from twisting free no matter how hard you fought it.
“You good?”
You couldn’t answer. More coughs dragged themselves from your lungs as your chest screamed at you. Your heart was pounding in your chest – you dropped your head to his shoulder and forced yourself to breathe though even that did nothing.
You could still see it. Teeth that were longer than you were tall. A hungry, gaping maw.
You were hauled onto the deck before you fully registered what was going on. Your hands only loosened against him when something rough was thrown over your shoulders. You grabbed the towel instead, fingers trembling around the fabric.
People were talking and you focused on that noise instead, just in time to hear Usopp complaining.
“See, this is why we shouldn’t go that close to the ocean!”
Something cold was touching your face and you turned toward it to find the source was Chopper’s hooves. You shook your head automatically. Droplets flicked into his face.
“Sorry,” you said.
Your chest was burning and the doctor was looking a little too worried. You didn’t like the implication of that but one thing you could fix was just how cold you were. That was an easy solution.
“Well, that was eventful,” you said, voice surprisingly rough. “I think I need a shower.”
Zoro was still hovering at your shoulder. You could feel his gaze on you. “You alright?”
You nodded before he’d even finished asking, reached for the railing and dragged yourself to your feet. Your legs didn’t feel sturdy at all but you told yourself it would be fine. It wasn’t like you’d actually gotten hurt.
“Perfect,” you said. “Thanks for the save.”
“Yeah.”
You didn’t think it would affect you.
Or at least, you told yourself that it wouldn’t. Convinced yourself that you’d be fine with forgetting it until you were lying in your hammock, unable to get sleep to stick with you for more than a few minutes.
Every time you closed your eyes, you saw it again. The rows of teeth and a lifeless eye that stared straight through your memories.
You didn’t get any sleep that evening. Or the one after that.
You weren’t scared of the ocean. There was nothing in there with a mouth that could swallow the ship. It didn’t haunt the waves, waiting patiently for you to make a mistake and slip in. You had nothing to fear because it wasn’t real.
But no matter what reassuring thought you focused on, you couldn’t sleep.
It definitely showed but nobody mentioned the bags under your eyes or the way your chirpiness vanished. Nobody mentioned how you fled to the crow’s nest for no reason any time the wind picked up, even slightly.
Zoro was already there by the time you crawled in on your fourth night of no sleep, your limbs heavy and your breathing ever-so-slightly panicked.
“Funny seeing you here at this time of night,” you said, unable to quite get the smile on your face without it looking half-asleep.
“It’s my watch,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
You could have lied. Part of you considered it so he wouldn’t worry but there was another part, one that couldn’t bother to think of a proper excuse when you hadn’t managed to sleep for days on end, that just sighed deeply.
“Insomnia isn’t a pretty look on me.”
“You can’t sleep?”
You lowered yourself beside him, the wooden floor of the crow’s nest cool beneath your legs as you leaned into the curve of the wall. The sleeplessness had burrowed deep into your chest and try as you might, you just couldn’t shake it away.
You leaned against his shoulder, settling your bodyweight against the firm outline of his frame. “I want to.”
“So go do it.”
You rolled your eyes. “Thank you, darling. That’s such an innovative solution and not something I’ve been trying to do for days.”
He scoffed and fell silent for a while. You closed your eyes and tried to let the silence wash over you, failing miserably each time.
“Need me to tire you out?”
That made you look up again, confused. “Zoro,” you complained.
“What?”
“This isn’t the time.”
He huffed. “You can train at anytime of the day. Don’t listen to Chopper. The night is just as good, if not better, because it betters your senses.”
That… made a lot more sense than where your mind went. “Training?” you repeated. “You want to work out to get me to sleep?”
“That’s what I do if I can’t. Or drink but…”
“I’d be dead if I drank as much as you.”
He chuckled but didn’t deny it.
Maybe you could sleep on Zoro. You’d done it so many times before and it was a decently comfortable spot. He inevitably fell asleep too, never moving and warmer than any blanket you could find. But even as you thought of a shared nap, something hungry moved below you and you bolted back away, heart pounding in your ears.
You rubbed your stinging eyes and sighed, disappointed. How much time had passed since he made the offer?
He was staring at you again.
“I’m fine,” you said. “I always thought sleep was a waste of time. I’ve gotten so much done in the past few days!”
“Like?”
The actual answer was that you’d been staring at the wall but that felt a little odd to say.
“Reading.”
“Right.”
Zoro wouldn’t push. You loved that about him because if you said you were okay, then he would agree with you. Even though… maybe you weren’t okay. Maybe you did need somebody to mention it because you were kind of worried still.
“It’s dead, you know.”
Your rambling thoughts cut dead and you looked at him, momentarily confused. “What?”
“I killed the thing.”
“I’m not…” How had he known? You were sure you hadn’t brought it up or shown any signs of worrying about it anymore. “I know you killed it,” you said weakly. “If you hadn’t, then I’d be dead.”
“And?”
You wrung your hands together. “I didn’t even realise it was there. How did something that big sneak up on me? I could have been swallowed before I even screamed.”
“You weren’t though.”
“Can you please try to be a bit more comforting?”
Zoro hesitated for a second before he patted his lap. “Lie down. I’ll stay awake.”
You huffed though it was tempting. “You never stay awake when you’re on watch. I know because I’m always the one that wakes you up.”
“I will. Just lie down.”
The temptation was rapidly outweighing your nervousness. You thought of several protests before just giving in and stretching out, head resting on his thighs. He moved only once, the slightest shift, before he fell as still as a pillow. Then his hand fell over your eyes as though keeping them closed.
You wrinkled your nose but let him rest there, the pressure strangely reassuring.
Sleep didn’t arrive quickly but before you knew what had happened, you heard the trapdoor swing open with the excited chirping of:
“Oi, Zoro! Sanji says breakfast is ready!”
You practically headbutted Zoro’s hand as you sat up; your eyes burned at the sudden bright light filling the crow’s nest. Your arms and legs felt heavy, your neck stiff as you rubbed it and glared at the sun beyond the windows.
Luffy dropped out the crow’s nest with a laugh and Zoro sighed.
“Idiot.”
You rubbed your face. “Guess you know how to get a girl to sleep,” you mumbled more to yourself than to him.
“You still tired?”
“It’s better,” you said, pressing a half-awake kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”
You caught the faint red on his cheeks as he scoffed. “You can’t have too many bad habits so you better start sleeping again.”
“Hypocrite,” you responded.
Zoro offered to let you sleep with him more over the next few days and though it worked, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing you’d ever done. His legs were big and your neck ached from the strange angle but it was better than usual.
You didn’t know how long this would last although it seemed a pretty poor ‘forever’ solution. The exhaustion really wasn’t helping your thinking either because the next time you made land, you didn’t even realise what you were agreeing to join Zoro for until you were already halfway there.
Zoro didn’t usually do beaches. He didn’t see the point in it and following Luffy into trouble on the island was far more entertaining.
So why you were following him along an empty stretch of sand and sun was beyond you.
The ocean stretched out ahead of you with an emptiness that turned your stomach. When he moved to go closer to it, you settled where you were – the sand still dry where it clung to your palms. Waves rolled in slow, steady rhythms, breaking softly against the shore before dragging back, leaving the sand dark and slick in their wake.
Zoro looked to you and you patted the spot next to yourself with a smile. He didn’t walk back, just gestured with his head.
“You coming?”
You frowned at him. “Coming where?”
“Whenever we go to the beach, you swim out. You’re not going to do it now?”
“It’s a bit cold for swimming.”
It definitely wasn’t. You could feel the warm wind bringing in the refreshing sea breeze and a small part of your heart sung to move closer. But you stayed firmly where you were, nudging a small shell free from the sand with your toe. It was cracked along one side and you picked it up, thoroughly enamoured by the small token.
Zoro was still watching you. You pretended he wasn’t.
“Water’s fine,” he said after a moment.
“But the wind…” you said.
“You gonna avoid it forever?”
You rolled your eyes and tossed the shell back into the sand. “I’m not avoiding anything. I just haven’t had a chance to go swimming lately.”
He inclined his head toward the ocean. “And right now?”
“As I said, it’s cold.”
He shook his head and walked back over to you, his shadow falling across your legs. You pushed yourself upright, brushing sand from your clothes with more force than was necessary.
“I’m also not wearing the right clothing,” you said.
“That’s never stopped you before.”
A wave rolled across the shore, sliding back along the sand. You followed it with your eyes, watching the break as it swallowed the shore.
Then he turned his back to you, crouching slightly. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?” you asked, brows furrowed.
“You always ask for this. C’mon.”
You did often ask him to give you a ride on his back but you had an idea you knew exactly where he planned on walking with you. And you weren’t about to do that.
“I…”
“You’ll warm up.”
You crossed your arm. “That’s not the – hey!”
He clearly decided you were taking too long because he turned back and grabbed you, picking you up and hauling you onto his back instead. You grabbed onto him on instinct, nails digging into his shoulders as he immediately made for the water.
“Zoro!”
He adjusted his grip under your thighs and started a firm march toward the water. Your stomach dipped. The waves were getting closer now. Your hold on his arms tightened.
“Zoro, put me down.”
“Not yet.”
“You don’t have a weapon on you,” you pointed out though obviously he knew that. He’d placed his swords down at the edge of the beach, well within viewing distance.
“Don’t need one to swim.”
You huffed but it came out thin. You weren’t scared, obviously. Who would be scared…
He stepped into the water and your grip around him locked; thighs squeezing him so tightly that he let out a short, surprising cough.
“Hey! Take it easy.”
“What do you mean?” you asked.
“Stop trying to crush me.”
“I’m not!”
He took another step and your heart kicked. Your gaze dropped despite yourself, staring at the waves as they washed around his legs, terrifyingly close to your own feet. He was moving slower now, giving you time to breathe, but not time to relax.
“We’re not going far,” he said.
“I don’t… I wouldn’t mind.”
He hummed as though you were lying to him and you pressed your cheek against his shoulder, looking instead at his hair. The colour ought to distract you even as he continued to walk and the sand shifted deeper.
You could see the way it curled and twisted beneath his feet. It clouded the water just enough that couldn’t see through it quite as clearly as before.
That made it so much worse.
The water climbed higher. It moved past his knees and brushed against your feet, then it was at his thighs and touching more of your skin. You could feel its pull. Not enough to move him at all but there for long enough. A slight tug on your limbs.
You swallowed. “Zoro.”
He stopped then, just deep enough that the waves washed over his hips. The chill of it sent a shiver through you that had little to do with temperature.
Zoro stood steady as the waves washed by, his hold tight around you.
Another wave came and he adjusted himself to break it, splitting it before it bumped up against you. You could feel the tug of the tide against your skin as you raised your eyes from the sand by his feet, looking out at the vast water around you, gaze running back to the shore for only a second.
“I should notice things,” you said. “You can’t notice everything.”
“I know,” he said.
It wasn’t very comforting at all. You tracked the water around his legs and noted that nothing was moving beneath it.
“You can put me down now,” you said.
“Are you gonna bolt?”
You breathed out disbelievingly through your nose. “No… maybe.”
“Then you’re staying right where you are.”
Another wave brushed over you. Then another. Until you came to expect them and stopped squeezing him half to death every time it happened. You breathed out slowly before his hand slid from where it had hooked under your leg to your wrist instead.
“Stay here,” he said.
“Okay.”
He lowered you slowly until your toes touched the sand, soft under your weight. You breathed out, the water cooler where it lapped against your skin now that you moved away from his body. It felt familiar like this. Pleasant, almost.
Then Zoro started walking and your breath hitched. He guided you without pulling, drawing you deeper until the water was brushing over your ribs and your chest.
It was fine. It was just water.
Your fingers dug into his arm and he stopped, turning to look at you.
“I’m fine,” you said on instinct.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped closer to you until you were looking at him instead of out at the vast, endless ocean he’d been guiding you to. Looked at his eyes instead of watching for any that lurked beneath the surface.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I know,” you said.
“Then stop worrying about it.”
“That’s easier said than done,” you huffed.
He flexed his hand around your wrist. “Time to let go.”
“Zoro…”
“I’m not leaving. Just let go and float.”
You exhaled slowly, expression unimpressed as you watched him. “That’s not… I’m not… you’re annoying sometimes.”
He shrugged. “That’s fine. But you like doing this crap.”
You did. You did like floating in the waves but that was when you thought you’d see a threat before it reached you. When you thought you’d recognise a danger before it could touch you.
You loosened your fingers one at a time and then dropped your arm.
The water shifted around you immediately and you swayed in the current, not sure of what to do now. Almost as though you’d forgotten how easy it was to relax. Zoro was unmoving as stone, his arms crossed over his chest while he waited.
You leaned back, lowering yourself and pretending your heart wasn’t pounding in your chest hard enough to hurt.
There was nothing here. No creature of that size could get so close to the coast and you were fine. You were safe with Zoro there to look for you when you couldn’t. You exhaled, slow and shaky, as you stared at the clouds above you.
He didn’t say anything.
You floated for a minute, watching the sky before you pushed yourself upright, water dripping from your hair down your back. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressed into his chest with a solid hug.
He made a quiet sound of surprise. His arms rested on your hips, grounding.
“You’re fine,” he said.
You nodded against his chest. “Probably.”
Past him, the ocean rolled. Vast waves crashed against the shore and you shuddered, burying your face against his skin as you tried to ignore it. Not out there yet.
“Maybe, I could swim out there, later,” you said slowly. “As long as you’re there to look out for me again.”
“Obviously,” he muttered. “Where else would I be?”
Between the sun and the swimming, you must have exhausted yourself. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself was the reason why you managed to get a full night’s sleep that evening, free from monsters and the ocean.
It definitely wasn’t because your head was on Zoro’s chest, sand still in your hair and sea salt still clinging to your skin.
zoro’s never liked having idle hands. over time, he's learned to keep them busy by training, working out, cleaning his equipment, or simply keeping a hand on the hilt of his blades. it’s been this way since he was young.
kuina picks up on this one day after training. moonlight drapes over the fields they just fought over, stars shimmering above as they bear witness to the children with dreams bigger than this world. zoro lays on his back and mindlessly plucks at the grass.
the rustle of paper catches his attention, stilling his actions before sneaking a peek over at the girl he owes so much to. and there she is, folding a square piece of paper over and over again until she holds up what resembles a green tiger.
it’s the closest thing to magic zoro has ever seen.
she teaches him how, explaining the ways you can fold paper to resemble different animals. zoro watches intently and hangs onto her every word.
it's no secret that kuina feels far removed from everyone, forever the odd woman out in a dojo full of men. she tells him that these creations give her hope that anyone can be anything as long as they put in the hard work.
and just like anything the pair does together, it turns into a competition. who can make the most complex animal, who can make it faster, who can make it better?
after she passes, zoro continues on with a new meaning while still respecting her own.
the swordsman makes them for the straw hats during long stretches out at sea. most of them assume usopp is behind crafting these creations and zoro has never bothered to correct anyone.
however, it changes when you come aboard.
you’ve noticed little figures here and there during your time on the ship — a tiger in zoro’s training area, a monkey by luffy’s hammock, a cat near nami’s cartography table. everyone has one so it’s hard to guess who’s making them until you tell zoro the story of the crane, an animal you hold dear to your heart.
you light up as you explain what they mean to you — a symbol of balance and wisdom that ushers in peace. they’re strong yet graceful, moving through life in harmony with every step forward.
and to your surprise, a single paper crane is sitting in your spot at the kitchen table the very next morning. zoro refuses to meet your eye, already busying his hands with his utensils and half listening to the crew's idle conversation.
it’s okay though, he knows you’ll keep his little secret. and if you’re lucky, he may even teach you how to make one of your own some day. for now, you sneak over to the crows nest and place the crane beside his tiger.
Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Fem!Reader (No use of y/n)
Summary: The crow's nest makes a good place to hide from the chaos that overtakes the deck. Zoro doesn't typically like to be bothered during his workouts, but he'll make an exception for you. Maybe even put on a bit of show, since you keep sneaking glances his way... Not that he'd ever admit to it.
CW: Slightly Suggestive (not explicit), mutual pining.
Word Count: 1.7k
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“Why are you here, again?”
“I told you, I’m hiding,” you press your face to the window of the crow’s nest.
“But, why here?”
“Because no one likes to bother you when you’re working out.”
“Yeah, that’s cause I don’t like to be bothered.”
“Right! Which makes it the perfect place for me to hide!” You smile wide at him over your shoulder and Zoro rolls his eyes.
“Fine, whatever, just don’t bother me,” he grumbles. But he’s absolutely not bothered by your presence whatsoever. At least, not in the way he is with everyone else. There’s a distinct difference and he feels it sharply as his eyes trail over your body- still in your bikini with just that little sarong wrapped around your waist. He’s glad his body is already flushed from his exertion because otherwise he’d have nothing to blame it on.
“As soon as they put the explosives away, I’ll go back down.” You’d quickly evacuated your sunny spot on deck when Usopp and Luffy declared they were going to test one of Usopp’s new inventions. Which involved both gunpowder and a case of Franky’s cola. The latter of which the Shipwright had handed over a little too eagerly. So, not wanting to be completely locked away below deck, you climbed up to the crow’s nest instead.
You get comfortable in the window seat, opening your book back up. An easy silence settles between you and Zoro, only the sound of your turning pages and his clank of metal winds through it. High above the deck, the distant sound of commotion below is far enough to be forgotten- for now.
Only, you’ve been reading the same page for the past twenty minutes. Your eyes keep roaming up to catch a glimpse of Zoro as he goes through his routine- completely ignoring your presence entirely. Which was perfectly fine because you’d probably burn right through the floor if he caught you staring.
But it is so hard not to. Unlike yourself, you think, Zoro’s presence is not one so easily ignored. It never has been. The hulking wall of his physique commands attention anywhere he goes. Yours especially.
He’s shirtless, loose pants hanging sinfully low on his hips. His body is a map of muscle, and your eyes navigate every dip and dale therein. With every movement, the landscape of him shifts, the peaks and valleys of his brawn rolling and quaking under the strain he forces upon it. He is so demandingly masculine that his nearness alone is intoxicating and you simply can’t stop drinking him in.
Zoro knows you’re watching him. Knows you have been for a while. It’s been a long time since he heard you turn a page and he can feel the heat of your gaze as it sizzles across his skin. It’s a delicious feeling that he greedily indulges. He’s turned away from you, allowing you to watch him openly. And if he’s being honest, he’s putting on a a bit of show. Moving his body in ways that accent his rigid shape, paying extra attention to the places he feels your eyes linger most. His routine has gone completely off script, but he’s certain you don’t know that. He pushes his body through drills that showcase his strength and flaunt his stamina. Just so you will watch. Just so you will see.
When you drop your book, he has to turn his head to keep his grin hidden. There’s a hot rush of pride coursing through his veins hearing you respond to his exhibitionism.
“What are you reading?”
You jump at the sound of his voice as you pick up your book and settle back into your spot. “Um…” you glance down at the title, mind blanking as Zoro drops into a push-up. “Swords of Her Savior,” you read, blushing as you just now realize how prominent that title is when you say it out loud.
“Swords, huh?” Zoro dips his body low and slow before pushing it back up again. “What’s it about?”
Your tongue darts across your lips. “…swords.”
“Really,” Zoro scoffs. “Read it to me.”
You glance down at the page, eyes slipping over a passage that you most certainly are not going to read out loud to him. “You wouldn’t like it.”
“I like swords.”
“Well, it’s about… other stuff too.”
“Let me guess. It’s about swords… and a Savor.” Zoro glances over at you, not wanting to miss that indignant little pout he knows he’s draw from your lips and is rewarded with the sight of it.
“Well, yes. But, it’s more than that!” you tell him, now in defense of your story. “It’s about a knight and his princess.”
“How original,” he teases.
But the sigh that pulls from you as you trail your fingers over the cover completely washes through him. “Oh, but it’s so romantic,” you coo and his heart flips at the soft yearning of your voice. “She’s the princess of a long cursed kingdom and he protects her from the beasts that lurk there as they venture into the heart of the land.”
“Why would they go there?” Zoro asks, liking the way your voice rises with excitement.
“To break the curse and restore the kingdom!”
“And live happily every after?”
“I sure hope so,” you sigh, “but I haven’t made it that far. Right now, it’s just been revealed that he’s afflicted with the curse too! It makes him strong, but it eats away at his goodness every time he uses it.”
“That’s not strength,” Zoro offers, dipping again, “that’s just sacrifice.” He pushes himself back up, “true strength doesn’t sacrifice honor.”
Your teeth gently press into your bottom lip as you mull over his words. There’s an adorable crease between your eyes when you ask him, “what about true love?”
Zoro stops moving. “What?”
“Would true love sacrifice honor?”
Zoro’s brows draw together and there’s a twitch in his jaw and you think perhaps that question offends him. But, he resumes his movements, staring back down at the floor, voice low as he mutters, “where did you get this book, anyway?”
“Sanji gave it to me.”
Zoro huffed, “of course he did.” Zoro doesn’t feel your eyes on him anymore. You’re gazing out the window- staring off into something that can’t be seen. He can feel the warmth drain from that tether between you as you drift away from him and he throws himself into the reach of it- tugging you back in.
“How many swords does he have?”
He has your focus once more and a small smile starts to pull at the edges of your lips, “only two.”
“Bet I could kick his ass.”
Your giggle is a song that bubbles in his chest, “yeah, I bet you could.”
Zoro grins with your affirmation. “Come get on my back.”
You blink, “what?”
He nods his head over his shoulder, “I need the extra weight.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” Zoro says, lowering himself to the floor, laying his head on his arms. “Get on.” He likes the way you can’t fight the smile that draws the corners of your lips despite how you try.
You slowly sidle up to him, sinking to the floor next to his colossal body. “Um… how should I?”
“Just get on.”
“But-“ Zoro grabs your arm and slings it across his back, draping you across him. There’s a yelp as you fall onto him, but then- a delighted squeal as you feel the rise and the dip of his movements. “Zoro!” You chide, but it’s full of a laughter that rings joyously through the room and through his body.
Your hands cling to his shoulders to keep yourself from falling and you feel the solid weight of him beneath your hands. Your blood rushes as you realize just how much of him you can feel as you lie prone on his broad back. His sturdy form doesn’t so much as tremble even with your added weight- it hardly seems to have slowed him down at all. The wave of his muscles roll against the shore of your body, and it occurs to you just how much you’re touching him. You still in your bathing suit, with nothing but a thin slip around your waist- and him, with the top half of his body completely disrobed.
Zoro feels your breath hitch against his back as you settle onto him. The weight of you doesn’t present any challenge to him. Your soft body settles comfortably onto the plane of his back. Slotted perfectly like he had been chiseled into a shape designed just for you. He could feel the plush press of your breasts into his back and the divine curve of your thighs draped over his hips.
“Um… how many push-ups are you trying to do?” Your voice is so close to his ear that can just barely feel the whisper of your breath.
“A thousand.”
“A thous-!?”
“Maybe two.” He’ll do a million if it means he can keep you this close to him. “Just to wind down.”
“You call that winding down?” You sigh and drop your head against the divot between his shoulders and Zoro nearly drops to the floor, but he just keeps pushing.
“Tell me more about your book,” he requests. Wanting to feel your breath on his skin, the vibrate of words against his spine, the whisper of your voice on his neck.
You hesitate at first, but slowly you begin to tell him about it and Zoro doesn’t interrupt you- just lets you talk. Occasionally offering a teasing remark or asking a question, but for the most part- he’s silent. Just enjoying the way your words grow comfortable around him.
Zoro’s steady motion is soothing as a hammock in the wind and you sigh into his back. He hears your words come heavier, the pattern of your breath descending into something slower- deeper.
Somewhere around the four-hundredth push-up, you fall asleep. But, Zoro keeps going- worried that the cease of his motion would wake you. He isn’t ready for this moment to end.
Only once he hits his thousand is he confident that you’re deep enough into it that he slows down. Gently he lowers himself to the floor, places his head onto his arms, and closes his eyes.
And slips away into dreams of fighting devils in a dark forest- his princess on his back.
Synopsis: After the defeat of Arlong the five of you promised yourselves and each other to achieve your dreams on your way to the Grand Line, helping Luffy search for the One Piece. It seems simple enough, except for the minor detail that you died. Coming back from the brink of death, Zoro and the others have noticed you haven’t been the same. You aren’t sure if it’s Death himself chasing or just Baroque Works after you but facing your inner demons won’t be the only fight you’ll have to worry about when family comes calling.
Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader
Genre: established relationship, idiots to lovers, angst, mentions of smut, (will add stuff later) it’s an adventure, y’all!
Words: 8.6+
A/N: Hello, my darlings! It is I! Your resident clown! S2 finally came!! Like the first season, CITB: Wanted will be following the S2 storyline, while having my original plan of giving a backstory for Doc. Hopefully, I can integrate it well, and it all comes together like fine wine and chains to give someone a good time. There is a Roronoa Zoro line I used from Mr. Oda himself, and it’s outlined in bold. This chapter is going to deal with mentions of PTSD, because who wouldn’t have a little, ya know? As always, thank you all for being so lovely and so sweet. For being one of the best fandoms I’ve had the privilege of being a part of. I love y’all. Ok. No more rambling. I hope you guys love this. Much Love, Jenn
p.s. shout out to @deadneverlander for always being my clown bestie and the bestest editor-in-chief
Warnings: mentions of ptsd and trauma (list could grow idk man)
Chaos In Their Bones Masterlist
Previous
The soft scratching of Nami’s pencil etching coordinates on the map above was just the sort of calm you needed. The sound of precise tapping gently resonated down to find you in the safety of your favorite spot on the ship.
The small alcove was perfectly placed between the stern castle deck Nami maintained and the end of the Merry, featuring Nami’s trees, allowing for the illusion of privacy you were after. Plus, it was the only space on the Merry that you could sit as close as possible to the water without the hefty weight of judgment - and worry - that buried between your shoulder blades from your crew.
You’d been hiding - no, no, wait. No, not hiding. Hiding felt like you did something wrong. Technically, you were regrouping yourself, which sounded much better in said favorite spot. The branches of Nami’s growing tangerine trees gave ample coverage from anyone’s line of sight, if they just so happened to want to look, but never obstructed yours from the endless reflected hues of sapphire and teal of the water below.
It wasn’t just the minute sound of the water lapping against the Merry that gave you peace. It was all the details around the ship. The maddening scratching of Nami’s pencil on paper and the scrubbing of her eraser held purpose. One that kept Nami centered; her curiosity about the next step of the journey kept her eyes on the horizon with whatever big adventure lay waiting for her to claim.
And the possibility of treasure didn’t hurt either.
It’s what turned her drawing and writing into something reminiscent of a madman. Her pencil beat, woodpecker sharp, against the small wooden table Luffy bought her.
“The perfect size for our navigator and her notes,” he’d declared, beaming pure sunshine that you could’ve sworn could cure the criminally grumpy. If he’d beamed any harder, waiting for his praise, he’d set the very sun alight.
It was this methodical, maddening, and sure writing you found comforting. The same way you found comfort listening to Sanji move around the kitchen, whisk scraping rhythmically against the sides of a mixing bowl, or blade slicing through ingredients. A comfort in Luffy and Usopp’s good-natured yapping, or the sound of weights threatening to burst through the boards of the ships as Zoro trained.
It was all these small, insignificant sounds that held the most significance to you. Each one reminded you of something important.
You were alive. You were home.
And your consciousness - or whatever lay cracking beneath your ribs - screamed for chaos like a dying man.
Every moment you were awake, it hummed its demands against bone. A sickening song that grew and grew until you felt the vibration hum the tune in your teeth; gluttonous to destroy. You heard it. Felt it claw at the sinews and nerves every time you denied it. The way it pounded so loudly against the cage of your skull it made your teeth ache.
Every day you woke up aboard a ship with a family you loved. Who loved you back. Who’d proven that love with the same intensity to protect you, as you did for them. A family built on hardcore trauma bonding, sure, but a fierce love gripped you. Every single one of you chose the other - saw the good and capabilities of one another - and decided to call each other a crew in the end.
So, why did you feel hollow and aching, as if something was missing?
No. Not missing. Taken. That word felt more accurate than most. Every day you woke up grateful and hollow, a strange combination.
You knew it wasn’t just Zoro who noticed the change in you. Everyone tiptoed around you, careful with their words and gestures. Luffy, in particular, was careful in not flinging his arms wide in excitement; no unexpected movements that might leave you flinching. At dinner, no one let their utensils clatter on the table or scrape on plates after the first night Usopp’s fork dropped on the table and sent your soul practically vacating your body.
You tried to make light of the moments your pain forced them to walk on eggshells. A joke that forced fake laughter or dismissed the cracks that only grew larger behind your eyes.
You’d spent so long pretending everything was fine that you weren’t sure if you believed it yourself anymore. You were pretty sure, like 99% sure, that you’d unsuccessfully convinced everyone else that you were fine. Good as new. Hence, the distance that grew between you and the growing looks of concern at your continued refusal to talk. The sleepless nights; nights you’d sleepwalk to any corner of the boat, hands braced to throw you over, with Zoro undoubtedly following behind to protect you.
Always keeping watch.
But you were fine. Perfectly normal.
You knew this morning when Zoro left your now shared room, he was tired of the verbal run around. The way you closed yourself off because the right words seemed to fail you to describe what it was that crawled inside.
How could you tell him - any of them - that it felt like you’d been given someone else’s skin. That any time your thoughts weren’t occupying your own head, something else did. Plagued it with…no. You wouldn’t think it - wouldn’t say it out loud - in case it made it more real.
No. You didn’t have anything you could share that would make the situation any better. The best thing to do? Continue pretending like everything was absolutely normal. Nothing to see here.
So, no, you were not hiding.
You were simply hanging out in your favorite spot that just happened to be conveniently hidden.
The port of Loguetown peaked over the horizon. A calling card that you were soon reaching your next destination, and that meant one glorious thing: land. No more would you have to worry about your breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, snacks, and dinner thrown about your stomach like a merry-go-round.
You’d been on the Merry for months now, and still your stomach had you questioning whether it had truly been a wise decision with each new storm that rolled through the hull. Sanji told you that, eventually, it would get better. Easier. That your sea legs would come to you sooner than you think.
You were still waiting on the easier part.
The best thing about port meant a new town that featured new markets to explore for ingredients and plants to test out salves and brews. The last town you’d been able to stop at, much to Zoro’s ire, Sanji had gone with you to haunt the market stalls. The names of ingredients and plants you’d both been searching for were written down, while Sanji named off ingredients at your back like an excited child in a toy store.
“Do you know how hard this is to find?” Or your personal favorite, “You’re going to fall in love with me after tasting this with dinner tonight, Doc. Just you wait.” Earning him a death glare from Zoro, which only made Sanji’s devilish grin grow.
New taverns with new smells of foods also meant they were full of Zoro’s second favorite thing - booze. You still owed him a new case for losing your last sparring match. You really needed to stop accepting bets with him before you ran out of money. But maybe, just maybe, you could bribe him with a top-tier case of booze. One that might be so damn good, it was enough to make Zoro forget for just a few more days that he wanted to talk.
Your eyes scanned over the ocean's glittering surface, where the edges of the town came closer into view. The desire to place your feet on solid ground, to check the endless rows of possible market stalls and open shops with Nami. It was becoming a favorite pastime of yours to spend the day watching her haggle deals for items. She was truly a wordsmith and always seemed to walk away with what she wanted.
It also meant there was a very real possibility that a looming Zoro-shaped shadow wouldn’t be too far behind. Fingers pressed against your lower back, moving you gently like a breeze away from people, stores, or whatever he didn’t care for. Which seemed to always be a lot of things. Never a bar, though.
What you could personally look forward to was one of your favorite pastimes: locating pastry shops. The aroma of yeasted bread freshly risen in a tin, slathered in confectionery sugars or honey, filled with custards and topped with intricate designs of fruits was something you’d loved since you were a girl. Naan couldn’t always afford to give you those treats outside of special occasions, but you were old enough now to afford them yourself. And maybe you’d be able to enjoy them this time if Luffy and the boys didn’t get into their usual trouble.
No matter where you found yourselves, one of the boys seemed to locate trouble the way Luffy located meat. Which whittled down to being incredibly easy and far too often. You’d heard the argument earlier between Usopp and the rest of the crew: Loguetown was essentially the worst port any pirate vessel could pick. But between here and the Grand Line, it was the best viable option for supplies.
And possible death.
The thud of the weights reverberating down as an earthquake across the Merry’s hull brought you back to the present. Each release and lift was a silent threat that Zoro was dangerously close to splintering the ship in two.
You should’ve been focused on all the prospects a new town offered. Yet, here you were sitting in this particular spot, on this particular container, for the past two hours. A pear you’d snatched earlier that morning from the counter in Sanji’s kitchen, resting uneaten in your lap.
And, no, you were most definitely not pouting. Nope. No pouting or hiding here.
Your imagination was dangerously close to running away again when a ring-clad hand burst past your peripherals. A steaming cup of what smelled like coffee wiggling softly side-to-side in welcome. You didn’t have to look up to know the hand belonged to a handsomely flirtatious cook.
“I got worried when I didn’t see my favorite girl at breakfast this morning.”
You prayed he couldn’t physically hear your eyes roll as you took the coffee from his waiting hand.
“I thought Nami was your favorite girl?” You quipped, hiding your smirk against the mug's rim.
“It’s a revolving system,” he clarified warmly.
“Mhmm.”
“And, technically, you both have special reserved seating in my life.”
Playfully, you peeked over the rising steam from the cup. Your lips retracting from the rim for another sip, a mischievous question lingered on your tongue.
“So, Monsieur Vinsmoke,” you could practically see Sanji preening at your use of French. If you were able to tell him the ingredients inside a chouquette or find him what he asked for in his kitchen, the man combusted. “Who currently has the better reserved seating at the moment?”
You had to give it to him. When Sanji smiled, it was every ounce of the term ‘devilishly handsome’. Extra emphasis on the handsome.
“Currently, it would be you.”
“But only cause it’s simple ol’ me,” you quipped.
“Nah. I wouldn’t call you simple, Doc. You’re far from simple.”
“Careful, Sanji. If Zoro hears you, you’ll be dodging weights again.”
Your statement earned you a lethal combination of eye roll and scoff.
“Oh, please. You know, I’ll never quite understand what you see in that Moss Head. He isn’t even good with directions.”
God, was that statement painfully true. Zoro was infamous for being directionally impaired and yet…you hadn’t been ready for Sanji to voice it out loud.
The sharp huff that tinged his words in disbelief turned what could’ve been a hostile sentence into something that left your slurp of coffee ruthlessly sucked into your nose. Your would-be laughter dies in a painfully heated cough and watery eyes. Your fingers were pinching the bridge of your nose to try and quell the burning sensation, while you wondered, quite seriously, if it was possible to melt your nose from the inside out.
Sanji’s hand came to gently pat your back and continued to do so until you gestured that you were okay. You were, in fact, not dying from inhaled coffee consumption today.
“You alright?”
“Are you asking because I inhaled liquid coffee beans or just in general?”
“I would say it’s because you just inhaled half of my special French brew through your nose,” Sanji quipped, “because I feel like if I answer with, ‘in general’, you’re going to give me the silent treatment.”
If you were braver, you would’ve glanced back at Sanji. You would’ve greeted the warmth of his ocean blues with your own and fought the good fight for your eyes to finish telling the lie. The ability to shit-talk your way out of any situation was a trait you picked up from holding a lifelong friendship membership with Usopp and all of his…shenanigans.
Teasing Sanji should’ve come easy for you, especially whenever you used a certain green-haired archnemesis in playful comparisons. Instead, you felt the cracks begin to spread at the edges of your smile. The sounds of a humming hymn pounding in your veins and the caw of a raven you were beginning to swear relentlessly followed you, coming from overhead.
You weren’t sure when you started noticing their presence - these two ravens. Whether they were a figment of your imagination or real, their presence left an ominous foreboding deep in your chest.
It was just birds. Very large birds.
It’s been weeks since the first time you’d noticed the pair of them at the last village. The two of them hopped on the awning above a stall of dry herbs and tonics. Their cawing increased with each hop that led them closer to where you’d stood beside Zoro.
One of the large ravens appeared again a couple of nights later. This time outside your window. The gloss of its feathers blended oil thick between the midnight hues of night and ocean. It’d almost been impossible to see until it drew closer to your cabin window; the body perched seamlessly at the edge. The sensible part of your brain warned you that something was off with the raven. Your body reacted to the warning signal with a hand reaching out to wake Zoro, but at the very last minute, you froze at the sound. It sounded less like its usual caw. It was shadowed in something that sounded strikingly familiar to a word.
A sharp caw drew you from your thoughts and back to the present. Your gaze located the raven and watched it disappear behind a cloud. The warmth of Sanji’s presence beside you reminds you quickly that he was still there, still watching, and waiting for you to respond.
But your imagination ran wild with endless possibilities that their constant presence felt more than a simple coincidence. Your anxiety took hold with violent shapes and what-ifs, transforming small things into something larger, more triggering, to send your heart shattering to pieces with each rapid beat against your chest.
How long would it take for the smallest sound of scraping utensils against plates or the steel glint of knives to not make you flinch? The sight of fishmen, working diligently at markets, causes your vision to spot in black and white fireworks behind retinas with a hand digging into your sternum. The panic radiated into a pain that made it nearly impossible to breathe.
Finally, your gaze dropped to the warm mug of coffee he’d brought you. Your hands brought it to your lips to take a sip before you asked, “Did he send you?”
You didn’t need to glance over at Sanji to know his face contorted with a raised brow in disbelief that that specific question had ever left your mouth. It was still funny to see all the same.
"You're right. Dumb question."
You watched as he rubbed his palms gently down the length of his slacks. As if he was trying to completely rub the idea away that he would do anything friendly for the Moss Head.
"He's just worried about you, ya know. We all are."
Worry flashed like lightning in the blue of his eyes; quick and sudden as a storm. It was what you’d been struggling to avoid, and now, you couldn’t deny that his worry was real, that it carried weight, just like everyone else’s.
"I wish you would all stop worrying about me."
"Fat chance at that, Doc,” he replied, his shoulder gently nudging yours. An intrusive grunt of Zoro lifting his weights, allowing them to thunder back down on the hull, cut through the would-be tender moment, leaving Sanji fighting off a shiver of disgust. "This is probably the most uncomfortable spot you could've picked on this ship.”
“I would say uncomfortable for you maybe, but-,” you drew out the U in the word and ended it with an abrupt T when you nudged his shoulder. “-if you wanted to be really uncomfortable, it would be in our bedroom.”
“I could’ve gone a million lifetimes without ever hearing you say that to me. If I need therapy, Doc, I’m bringing you the bill.”
Laughter flooded in your chest and erupted, abrupt and harsh, at the horror that etched itself along Sanji’s features.
It must have been the sound of laughter that drew Zoro over to your position. You’d been relatively quiet, pensive, and lost in the trenches of your own thoughts. The sudden change was enough to spark his curiosity about what could have possibly lightened your mood. When his eyes landed on your spot, you now shared with Sanji, you watched the curiosity bleed into something dark. His jaw ticked as his teeth clenched together.
Zoro’s jealousy never stemmed from the superficial. It was housed in a deep-seated feeling that no matter how much of himself he gave - how much he tried - it would never be enough. It was there whenever Luffy found excitement with towns and their people or handed out compliments to his crew (particularly Sanji), and it was there now as he watched you brighten up for the first time in days besides your favorite cook.
Zoro stood before you (technically, he was standing over you, looking down at you over the railing), the extent of his earlier workout evident by the perspiration that soaked through strands of hair with droplets that ran down his chest and shoulders. His sun-kissed skin was haloed by the sun, and for one heartbreaking moment, you couldn’t fathom how he didn’t realize the hold he held on you.
Zoro was complicated. Unapologetically calloused with a veneer of humor dryer than sandpaper. He was stoic. Harsh. Moody. Endearingly helpful. Directionally impaired. Zoro was everything you imagined a man hellbent on becoming the greatest would be. But with you, he allowed himself to be something he usually never was.
Soft.
You knew the way his body leaned closer at your touch. The way his nose nestled into the crease of your neck as you slept or how his fingertips traveled the expanse of your body as if committing every part of you - all the scars and flaws you feared ruined you, turned you into someone you couldn’t recognize - to memory. He brightened when you shared new recipe ideas or medical facts, not just because he was interested in listening, but because it was you. He brightened because you believed in him, to know he was smart enough to be a part of the excitement and taught him when he was just a little lost.
You were both a little more broken than when you first met, although neither of you would be willing to admit it. Zoro took his moment of failure and molded the experience to be a part of his greatness. You? You were too chicken shit to ever tell him that you died and came back a little less whole; a little more wrong. Zoro, in his own way, was unable to admit that the cracks Kuina left fractured wider as he ran back to the village with you dying in his arms.
All this accumulated to communication not being either of your strong points, which was why when Zoro tilted his head for you to make your way over to him, you were equal parts annoyed and distracted. Painfully distracted.
It hardly seemed fair that seeing Zoro shirtless always left you flustered. You’d think after sharing a room the last few months with the man, you would be immune to the muscles, but you weren’t. If anything, it’d only gotten worse since Zoro had recently begun to work out more frequently with longer sessions and heavier weights, resulting in him getting…bigger.
You felt your body swing off its spot on the container, and while you passed by Sanji, your hand gently tapped his knee in thanks. You watched with amusement as Zoro’s eyes tracked the movement. A question pressed against his teeth, barely contained, until you were almost in front of him.
“What’s with the waiter?”
“I thought you’d sent him to come talk to me.”
As your reply registered in his brain, you watched as Zoro’s body grew still. A tick in his jaw was the only indication you had of his annoyance. His eyes flicked over your shoulder to where you’d left Sanji.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Funny. He said the same thing,” you quipped, unable to keep the smile from spreading across your lips. “How was the workout?”
“It was fine. We’re going to be coming into Loguetown soon. Figured I’d come get you so we can get ready.”
The first time Zoro started this now infamous tradition between the two of you, it’d been at the first stop after the Conomi Islands. It was an unspoken anxiety. One you knew Zoro would vehemently deny if anyone ever brought it up.
It was the same anxiety that kept him glued to you the minute you stepped off the Merry. Anywhere that wasn’t the ship; anywhere that wasn’t the safety of your shared room or his body. It was why he’d spent the last months tirelessly training you in combat. You knew it was partially meant to make you feel strong - some semblance of control - but there was no denying that for Zoro, it chipped away at the ice-cold fear that lingered under the surface of having to let you go.
This system he came up with was a meticulous set of steps the two of you followed to the very letter. One that allowed him to tamp down the restlessness that threatened to swallow him whole. The uneasiness of the possibility that he’d let you go with the unknowns, and what could possibly happen if he didn't find out until Nami told him. Because if you weren’t with him, Zoro would bet a million berries the two of you would be off getting into some sort of trouble.
So, when he turned to head back towards your room, he didn’t have to take your hand to tug you along or listen to you grumble about being your own person.
Zoro needed this. And it was something simple for you to give.
So you quietly followed behind him down the hallway to your room. Your shoulder purposely grazed across his bare chest while you moved past him at the door. You were trying to rile him up. Just enough to ease the tension his thoughts were causing in his shoulders. You sat patiently on the bed and watched him pull out the thigh harness Zoro had crafted at the last town. It fit snug across your hips and thigh, but he’d made sure - in his thoughtful design - the placement of your nunchucks holster wouldn’t impede on the pockets of your cargo pants.
Zoro knew how much you loved the multipurpose utility options of your pockets.
Without thinking, you reached out to take the harness from him. The action earned you a raised brow in question and a defensive pull to keep it out of arm's reach.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re almost to port, and you need a shower,” you replied, your tone flat and pointing out the obvious.
“And you figured this was a good reason to do your own harness?”
“I’m not five, Zoro,” you chided. More softly, you reminded him, “Plus, you’re all…sweaty.”
You were close to adding that you didn’t mind. His damp hair softened the sharpness of his jaw and the high rise of his cheeks. The freckles the sun kissed across them only aided in making the pout of his lips a mixture of sinful and boyish. It was his body, however, that made your throat feel like you’d tried swallowing past sand.
The hard work Zoro put in over the last few months was showcased by the width of his shoulders. His biceps were wide, and when crossed over his chest, the muscles flexed together in a war of who would be the largest. His forearms taut and laced with veins that stole your attention with each movement - even when he was simply pointing at Sanji’s chest. The scar from his encounter with Mihawke lightened itself down enough to where, if you weren’t looking for it, you’d almost not know it was there.
You knew it was there. You’d traced it enough times at night to be able to find it even in the dark.
The smirk that quirked Zoro’s lips should’ve been the first warning you were in trouble. Your brain registers too late the playful way his eyes darkened as he closed the remaining space between you. Deft hands that knew every inch of your body effortlessly moved the harness around your waist - pulling the leather tight and latching it into place. All with the heat of his gaze boring down on you with a salacious smirk that sent your heart pounding.
“You never complained before about me being so sweaty,” he teased, his voice caressing down your spine, smooth as velvet.
His words were a match that ignited a flush, warm and troublesome, along your skin. You were tempted to try and break eye contact, but by the way his smirk threatened to bloom into a full-blown smile, there would be no reason to attempt it. So, you went with option two and swatted him playfully on the shoulder.
The miniature attack broke Zoro’s face into sunshine with a smile. The warmth of his laughter filled your room, causing your own smile to spread across your lips against your will.
“That’s not playing fair.”
He dropped down to one knee. A skilled hand tapping his waiting thigh in silent instruction to place your foot where he’d asked. You made sure to drop it down with just a little extra attitude.
The mirth in Zoro’s eyes kept them bright - playful - and yet, the earlier desire left his pupils blown wide as he stared up at you. His eyes were solely focused on your face, watching as his hands traveled painstakingly slow up your leg. His fingers ghosted over your inner thigh as he tightened the strap into place.
“I never said I’d play a fair game when it comes to you, Snowdrop.” His gaze took you in from his place at your feet. His fingers danced dangerously between teasing and focused; intent mixed between preparing you when you docked and having you come undone at his hands. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s been going on these past couple of weeks?”
Zoro’s tone wasn’t angry. The question was delicate and whisper soft, like having to ask drew his worry out of the grave he’d tried to bury it in. You hated that for any ounce of a second, Zoro’s worry stole the joy from his chest.
He thought it was recent - your sleepless nights and sleepwalking. Only a few days here and there of staring blankly and dissociating into a space you couldn’t name, which accumulated to a couple of weeks. In reality, you’d become a master of covering up these parts of you that you didn’t want anyone else to see, since you’d opened your eyes back in that hut.
The thought collided unspoken behind your teeth. The words sour and forced your lips to purse into a look Zoro knew well. In real time, you watched his brightness dim down in ounces. His attention was back on securing the last notch of the harness into place before placing your foot back on the floor before he moved to stand.
“Zoro-“
His name held so much. An apology was the main one he was tired of hearing.
“I’m trying to be patient here.” His words cut you off, stopping whatever weak attempt at avoidance you might try this time. “You know it’s not the easiest for me.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” you hummed. “You do a lot better than you think.”
It was meant to be a comfort. An honest statement that his presence alone did more for you than anything else ever could.
“If that were true, you would feel safer telling me what it is that’s haunting you, Snowdrop. You’d confide in me more. Trust that I only want to help you, not because it benefits me. I want you to stop letting your demons steal the life you have while you’re able to live it.”
His hand reached up to cup your cheek in his palm. A thumb traces the bottom of your lip before dipping down to your chin to caress underneath. If someone walked in the room, you knew they would just see the two of you, eyes locked on the other and sharing the same breath, waiting for the other to breathe.
He didn’t need to tell you he only wanted the best for you. While he was overprotective at times, it never came from a place of malice or ownership. His jealousy comes from a place of fear that he might not be good enough; that you could find better. There could never be anyone who loved you, cared for you, as fiercely as Zoro did. The heart of gold that protected his captain, his crew (yes, even the waiter), because that was the kind of man he was.
Staring into his eyes now, you hoped your own could convey on some level how much you appreciated him. Which is what made trying to explain that you felt like you were going crazy, that you believed something came back with you, riding under your skin, felt like trying to speak while being dragged deeper into quicksand.
“I don’t know…I don’t-“ you closed your eyes to try and break away from his gaze. Your mind focused on the thundering of your heart and the warmth his hand left behind after he’d removed it from your face. “I don’t know how to explain what’s going on. I can’t make sense of it, Zoro. All I know is I don’t feel like me anymore - like something crawled inside and is rearranging everything about me.”
You braced yourself to open your eyes; to maybe see in real time his perception of you change, expecting to see the beginning of what you feared. The first hint that someone agreed that you came back unholy.
The only thing you found waiting for you wasn’t fear, uncertainty, or anger. Zoro looked at you like you were his purpose - his entire center - and the reason the heavens painted the sunset the way they did. The reassurance of his presence was enough to send a gasp of air to lodge itself inside your chest. A weak attempt to fight back the tears that threatened to drown you.
“Only those who have suffered long can see the light within the shadows.” Without hesitation, Zoro pulled you close to his chest and wrapped his arms around you. His cheek pressed against your hair as he spoke. “You died, Doc. Something like that is going to change you, but only you get to decide how it’s going to shape you.”
Zoro’s words resonated along your skin. Each syllable sinks down into the marrow of your bones to take root. You wanted to ask if it was possible that hope, replacing the fearmongering of your own death, could grow in its place. Standing there wrapped in the warmth of Zoro’s arms, his body real, warm, and present, was enough to make you begin to believe it could.
A quick succession of pounding erupted on the door and sent you jumping against him, which earned a deep chuckle that Zoro pressed against the curve of your throat.
“It’s just Luffy.”
“How do you know?”
Your question was answered as Luffy called behind the door, “We’re getting ready to dock, guys! Meet on the deck in fifteen!”
You pulled back just enough from Zoro’s chest to be greeted by a smirk that said, “Told you so.” You pushed out an exaggerated huff to accompany an eye roll as you disentangled yourself from him. You became immediately aware that you were now lightly covered in dried Zoro sweat.
“Oh, great. Now I bet I stink,” you mumbled, lifting your tank top to your nose for added measure.
“I might be biased, but I think you smell great.”
If you rolled your eyes any harder, you were sure you’d lose brain cells.
“You think a brewery smells like a candy store. I’m taking that comment with the tiniest, thinnest possible grain of salt.”
“If it bothers you that much, you could come with me to shower.”
Damn him. Already, the need to do just that hit you something sharp and coiling achingly low.
“Luffy said to be on the dock in fifteen minutes,” you said to remind yourself more than him. “If we take too long, they’ll know we were…uhm…occupied.”
You were starting to think Zoro’s favorite pastime really was seeing just how many shades of red he could make you. A shit-eating grin erupted across his face, and you knew whatever he was about to say was going to send whatever shade you currently were to your ears.
“Snowdrop, by now, the whole crew knows what we get up to. Especially the waiter.”
For added unnecessary emphasis, Zoro made sure to throw his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the wall behind him. The wall that directly resided next to Sanji’s room.
“Oh my god, okay!” You practically shrieked. Your hand shot out to grab the steel of your nunchucks before sliding them home in their holster. Your fingers were clasping the strap over them as you continued, “I am leaving now. Yeah. I’m going to the deck. I’ll brave the pastry shops smelling musky.”
Without waiting for a response, you opened your bedroom door and stepped back out into the hall. Your feet carry you towards the stairs that lead to the deck where Luffy, Nami, Sanji, and Usopp would be waiting. The sounds of their boisterous chatter were enough to speed up your movements so you could be wrapped in the warmth of conversation.
They all greeted you with smiles, and Usopp with a brotherly embrace. One that the two of you have followed up with your secret handshake since childhood. It was one of the many things that joined your made-up hand signals, and bird calls that drove the entire crew nuts when you each took turns riding up in the crow’s nest.
You allowed yourself to be swallowed up in the laughter and squabbling - mainly taking place because Usopp still didn’t agree that stopping in Loguetown for any reason was a good reason. The way Nami motioned with head nods and wide eyes to step in with an agreement that a girl's day of shopping was indeed a reasonable reason. Beyond reasonable, actually.
This familiar back and forth made it easy to be present: the first step in taking Zoro’s advice. The shadows may be a part of you, but only you get to decide how they claim you. It was easier said than done, and yet looking at the faces of your crew - your family - you were willing to start moving forward.
Whatever that entailed, and yet the soft voice in the back of your mind sparked to life. Nothing vivid and disarming; its usual words harsh and violent like a lashing to open skin. It was methodical, hushed. The delicate toxicity of its words moves fluidly like inky black smoke, leaving a residue over the hope you dare thought you could have.
“They’re blind to the very wolf that lives among them.”
Violently, you shook your head to dislodge the thought before it left you dissociating into a vivid what if. Maybe in Loguetown there might be a shop or a stall that sells lovely tea or crystals or something to make whatever this part of you was chill. the. fuck. out.
Zoro came sauntering in freshly cleaned, with his chest practically threatening to bust through the seams of his Gi-style shirt. You waited until he situated himself beside you, forearm resting against the railing as his eyes took in the current argumentative debate Usopp and Sanji were having about personal space in the kitchen.
“We should look into updating your wardrobe while we’re there,” you whispered into his ear.
You couldn’t explain the sheer amount of joy you got at seeing Zoro’s skin flush with goosebumps and heat. His gaze moved to take you in, so close beside him he’d simply have to lean down, and your lips would connect. By the shift in his eyes, you could tell Zoro was thinking about doing just that.
“What’s wrong with the clothes I have on?”
“It’s tight.”
“It’s comfortable.”
“The fabric looks like it’s screaming for help.”
Zoro closed in what limited space had already been between you - close enough that when he smirked, the rise of his lip grazed over yours. There was no fighting off the shiver of anticipation that rolled through you - a part of you wishing you had when the smirk grew higher.
“If you want me to take it off, Snowdrop, all you had to do was ask.”
“Oh my god!” Nami’s annoyance separated you cleanly from one another by a few inches. You were still tucked into the crook of Zoro’s side when you looked her way. “Am I going to have to separate you two already?”
“I call Doc when you do,” Sanji cut in.
“Fat chance of that happening,” Zoro bristled.
His mild threat only made Sanji’s Cheshire Cat grin spread like wildfire across his face. If there was one thing Sanji loved more than cooking in his kitchen, it was living to ruffle Zoro’s metaphorical feathers as often as humanly possible.
You wondered if it was payback for being stuck next to the thin walls of your room. You could practically feel the heat creeping up your neck to burn blazing hot across your cheeks.
“While it would be truly riveting to watch you two idiots go back and forth,” Nami cut back in, “We really should get moving. We don’t want to stay in Loguetown too long and gain unwanted attention.”
“And to see where Gold Rodger died,” Luffy added.
“Yes,” Nami deadpanned. “Can’t forget that.”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
“I just want to remind everyone that I did not, and still don’t, think this is a good idea,” Usopp interjected.
His hands were already worrying at the strap of his bag. You pushed off the railing and went to him. Your arm slides around his shoulders, using the crook of your elbow to pull him in closer. Using the small grip you had on him, you used it to get him to move forward to follow Luffy off the deck and down the ramp to shore.
“It’s been duly noted, Usopp,” you said. “Now, how about we just try and enjoy our possible last chance being on land.”
Eyes wide with terror greeted you seconds after the last word left your mouth. The whites of his eyes became more exposed with each step you took down to the cobbled road in front of you.
“Why do you gotta say it like that, Doc?” He questioned. Each word dripping with anxiety, you could practically feel on your skin. “This really could be our last time doing anything! Any-thing!”
“Usopp. You know I love you. You seriously need to relax.”
“How can you ask me to relax when we are walking into death? Death, Doc?!”
You gave him one last tight hug before you released him. Your body gave a brief shrug in response that somehow made his eyes widen impossibly bigger.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, Usopp, that maybe a little possibility of death is worth some fun, and we need the supplies, and that is one universal fact you can’t dispute with. Plus, the only one who had any run-in with death is me, and look how fine I am.”
“Not funny,” Zoro grumbled from behind you while Usopp said, “You are most definitely the farthest person from okay on this ship. I’m pretty sure you’re almost certifiable.”
“Wow, okay. Rude.”
You fell into step behind Luffy, who fearlessly moved through the crowds of people. His eyes filled with childlike merriment as they hungrily took in the scenery around him, and what a scenery it was to behold.
You’d never seen a city quite like Loguetown. Everything was industrial; a majority of shops appeared to be inside actual buildings, with only a few random small stalls of merchants placed at random outside. There were cars and trolleys, which were something you’d only seen in magazines Kaya received at the manor. Syrup village never had use for trolleys or giant, elegant cement buildings that towered over the horizon. Each one housed sweet shops, finery of jewels with fabrics that ranged from silks to wool, meats, and ceilings full of lights and pops of color from hanging umbrellas.
Loguetown made you feel every bit the small village girl as you stepped through the archway and into the main square.
You weren’t so enamored with everything around you that it made you oblivious to the heat of Zoro at your back. The way his finger grazed the waist of your pants to remind you that he was there or moving too far ahead of him.
The last couple of places Luffy had the Merry stop at for supplies were nothing compared to Loguetown. Besides the abundance of Marines you were already seeing, the number of people in general was beyond what you were all used to.
Zoro’s anxiety must have been going into overdrive.
“There are so many people,” Usopp mentioned in awe.
He was equally as stunned as you were at the sheer size of Loguetown. You wanted to ask him if he was thinking about Syrup village, too. All the differences Loguetown had in the first five seconds of entry compared to the island you’d both grown up on.
Your group walked to the column that stood in the center of the entrance. Nami read off the plaque's engraving of “The town of the beginning and the end.”
“Well, that sounds ominous,” you grumbled.
You refused to let some weird engraved words ruin this moment for you. There were so many new things for you to see, and you were in charge of getting first aid supplies. A spark of excitement at all the potential a place like this had in introducing you to new medicines - new herbs - was palpable.
They were lucky Zoro had his index hooked in the hoop of your pants, or you might have taken off on your own.
“This is where it all started. The hunt for the One Piece. History happened here!”
God, why didn’t you expect Luffy to start yelling like an excited lunatic? Your captain was so radioactive in his excitement, his body vibrated with it. It still didn’t mean yelling like a crazy person, arms thrown wide to grab hold of the universe in a thank you hug, made garnering any extra attention less sketchy.
Every single one of you took turns glancing in every direction just to make sure no one was looking at you all a little too long.
“It looks like they’re having some kind of festival,” Sanji pointed out.
“Ooo, do you think they’ll have a parade?” You asked him excitedly.
Sanji would be willing to feed into your excitement, while Zoro, being ever the pragmatist, quickly piped up with, “For Gold Rodger’s execution.”
“You just have to suck the fun out of a good time, don’t cha?”
You loved this man. You really did, but sometimes…
“What?” He responded. The crease between his forehead perfectly matched the question in his eyes. “It says it right there on the banners.”
“I saw that.”
“Then why ask for a parade?”
“Zoro, darling, if you have to ask, it does not matter anymore.”
“A festival’s not so good for laying low,” Usopp pointed out.
The town, the sights, and the setting were overwhelming. So overwhelming that you hadn’t noticed Luffy had started wandering off until you watched Sanji give chase. He easily caught up with him and turned him back around towards the group.
“Then we’ll just have to be smart. No attracting unnecessary attention.”
The minute Luffy stepped back into the circle, he did so with his arm raised, as if someone would call on him to ask his vote.
“I want to see the execution platform!”
“Morbid.”
“What, no.” Luffy’s smile halted for the smallest millisecond before it resumed its usual place. “It’s where everything began, Doc. The story of the One Piece.”
“I caught that.”
“Sanji,” Nami cut in. “What if you take Luffy with you for some food shopping?”
“Mmmm,” Sanji hummed in approval.
Everyone understood the unspoken assignment.
“Food first, then execution platform!”
Nami was already digging into the depths of her purse. Her hands scrapping up the berry she had sectioned off with the purpose for each amount jotted down in her head. You wouldn’t be surprised if she knew how much berry was in each individual stack just from the feel alone.
“Right. Food will keep him out of trouble.”
“I am headed to the fashion district. Zoro, you need new swords, right?”
Zoro had stopped paying attention after Luffy brought up the execution platform. Nami saying his name brought him back into the conversation, but not before a hint of unease sent his eyes shifting between Loguetown and your group.
“I need money too.”
“Okay, what do you want me to do about it? Why don’t you ask Doc for money? She is your girlfriend.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” you butt in, voice taking full offense. “This money is for first aid supplies, remember? This isn’t “cover -for- a -sword,” money.”
“The cook got money?” He interjected, looking between Nami and Sanji.
“I’m buying food for all of us.”
“Me having more swords is for all of us,” Zoro shot back.
The annoyance rippled off him in waves as he stared over at Sanji. Sanji, on the other hand, looked completely undisturbed. At least he made a step up from waiter to cook, so that felt like a positive.
Nami’s own flash of irritation came as her hand dipped back inside her bag. A wad of berry, noticeably smaller than Sanji’s, was held in her hand. Zoro stepped forward, his hand already reaching to take it when Nami pulled it back at the last second.
“You take this, you pay me back. With 300% interest.”
“Can take the con artist out of the East Blue, but you can’t take the con artist out of the girl.”
“Hey, if you have a problem with it you can give him some of your berry,” Nami replied.
“Shutting up.”
“What if I need more?”
“You haggle?” Nami replied. She seemed genuinely confused. As if she forgot she was dealing with Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter extraordinaire, but completely clueless about most basic life skills. “There’s a price they want and a price they will take.”
With the short lesson ended, Nami handed over the money to Zoro, who looked to still be processing what she’d told him. He glanced over at you and immediately stood taller. His fingers pushed the berry inside the pocket of his pants.
“Haggle. Fine.”
Usopp quickly added that he was going to be staying with Nami, using the excuse that a big city and a lone woman were a bad combination. You were tempted to remind Usopp that Nami was perfectly capable of getting into life-threatening situations like the rest of the Straw Hats, but decided against it. Why ruin it for the guy?
It was decided that once everyone got what they needed, you’d all meet back up here. You were just beginning to head down what you assumed would lead to medicinal shops when a familiar hand clasped around your wrist, stopping you short.
“Where are you going?”
The question wasn’t a demand. It was genuinely curious where you were going if he wasn’t about to follow.
“To get my portion of the supplies. Why?”
“I just thought-I thought you were going with me to look for swords.”
“Isn’t it said that a sword chooses its owner? You don’t need me for that.”
“But what if I want you there?”
The grip he’d held on your wrist transformed as he released it. His fingers trailed down the soft skin of your wrist until they came to the palm of your hand. Not grabbing or trying to hold, but softly suspended there. That way if you wanted to reach for him, as you usually did, you could.
You looked at this man who so blatantly adored you and couldn’t find it in you to feel anything else but gratitude for him. A man who only wanted to be your protector in more ways than one.
“Zoro, I’ll be okay.” You tried to keep your voice as soothing as possible and hoped it was working. “When I finish up getting my supplies, I promise I’ll come and find you.”
“How will you know where I’ll be?”
“There can’t be that many swordsmiths in Loguetown,” you pointed out.
“Good point.” The smile was small. It barely raised the corners of his mouth while he diverted his eyes from you to your hands that were still intertwined, but not. When Zoro finally looked back at you, he asked, “Come back to me?”
Four simple words, and yet, they held the sharpest meaning. You weren’t sure when it became the thing he’d say to you whenever there was a reason for the two of you to be a part. It wasn’t just four words. It was one of the last things you heard from him while he clutched you, iron tight to his chest as he ran with you back to Coco Village. A reminder of time wasted, and the lifetime you both promised to spend making up for it.
“Always.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Sanji grumbled.
“Shut up, Cook.”
You took that moment to move up on tiptoe and place a soft kiss against Zoro’s cheek just as you disconnected your hand from his. You all had things you needed to do before the day was over, and you didn’t want to waste the majority of your time not enjoying it.
So, the six of you went your separate ways with your promise to meet back in the center. It felt doable. It felt like today was going to be a good, normal, trouble-free day, because really, how much trouble could you all possibly get into?
Tag list: @tombraiderjones2505 @bbning @lyladoesart
As always, thank you for reading. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
a/n: this was meant to be part of a sick fic i'm working on but idrk if it fits anymore. maybe i'll still include this, not sure yet.
In the dead of night, the Going Merry burns.
Splinters dig painfully into your knees. A plume of smoke fills your lungs. Tears well and fall, stinging your eyes and burning your cheeks, and you just can’t catch your breath.
Footsteps pound on the dock, and you whip your head behind you. Your crew advances nearer and nearer, glowing bright in the light of the fire. Hope swells in your chest—that everything will be okay because, of course, it will be; it’s Luffy.
It’s extinguished the moment he places his beloved straw hat on your head and jumps into the Merry’s blaze.
Nami follows. Then Usopp, Sanji, and Vivi.
Zoro runs past you but stops. The flames creep further up the dock and lick at his back as he looks at you for what feels like the final time before sending you a small smile and jumping in after his captain.
You beg your body to move, to do something, but your voice catches in your throat.
The fire roars.
Flames melt rubber, parchment, cloth, flesh, jewels, and steel. Dreams become ash. Promises flicker and die out like the stars in the night sky.
AW thanks guys! I appreciate all my online pals and moots! seeing you show up in my notifications always brings a smile to my face!
@strawberrychansora (I know you started the tags but tagging anyway) @abarosoap @itsagoodluckkiss @ariaella56 @luffydotcom @ninivid @zoromos (not technically mutuals but you’re very cool!)
“How come you no longer tell me that you love me?”
You had asked the question to Zoro one night who was cleaning his swords. He let out a quiet “hm?” and continued the motion, never once stopping to look at you. You weren’t angry, you weren’t upset, just curious. Before Kuma had sent you off to various parts of the world, you and Zoro were close as ever, laughing and having fun, kissing under the moonlight, whispering I love you as the sun was high in the sky..
Now he was quiet. Distant. You didn’t mind this change. Yes, you were hurt but you knew that being apart for two years caused a loss between the two of you. He was still protective but where was the love?
“What’s the point?” He asked, voice rough from a lack of sleep. He was up for two nights, restless, and you couldn’t do a thing about it. He wouldn’t let you.
“There’s always a point in telling your wife that you love her. It’s common sense.” You say. “Not out of insecurity, but a reminder.”
“You don’t need a reminder. You already know.”
“Not when you’re like this, Zoro.”
He froze. Then, he looked at you. He glared at you. “Like what?”
“Cold. Distant.” You say with a frown. “What happened to you whilst you were training with Mihawk?”
“Tsk, that’s none of your business.”
“None of my business?”
All the anger and all the frustration was slowly rising to the surface. You wanted a calm conversation to understand him better but this?
“Yeah, what I do is none of your business.” He put his swords down. “So leave me the hell alone, Y/N.”
You were taken aback. You couldn’t even find the words to defend yourself. He stood up and grabbed his sheath before sliding his swords in.
Your face went stone cold. “Are you in love with Perona?”
You had to ask. You weren’t judging him, or questioning his love for you, you were trying to understand him. What is going on, why is he being like this?
Zoro scoffed. “Perona?”
“You were with her for two years. You two must’ve bonded, right? If not romantically then a friendship?” You ask, titling your head to the side. “Did Mihawk do something to you?”
Zoro got angry. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword, anger coursing through his veins. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“No, just wondering. You know that I’d give you the world and if Perona is in it, I’ll walk away. But if she isn’t, and some part of you is still willing to have me, I’ll stay, but not like this. I can leave whenever I damn well please.”
Zoro looked at you. “Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a promise. I’m not going to follow you around like a lost puppy, I actually love myself. I know my worth, I know what I deserve and it isn’t nonchalance nonsense, and an ego as high as the mountains, or a stormy expression when speaking to me, your damn wife, or a bitter laugh. I deserve everything good that will come my way and if you’re not apart of that then so be it. I love you, Roronoa Zoro, but I love myself more.” You fire out. “So it’s either you get your head out of your ass or I’ll fucking divorce your shitty, nonchalant ass.”
Zoro’s one eye widened in shock. He wasn’t expecting that. But then again, this is the reason why he fell in love and married you.
You got up and walk away. “And don’t even think about trying to defend me when we get to Punk Hazard. I can defend myself.”
With that being said, you walk away, leaving Zoro behind to think about the argument.
How did it always end like this? Exactly the same way.
You’d find yourself on a new island and everybody would seem normal and friendly. Until they began to leak through the cracks and idiots who had no idea what they were fighting, would try to bring the Straw Hats down to their level. Every time without fail.
Either way, there would be a fight and Zoro would always find the second strongest idiot in the place without fail. And he would not lose that battle.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get hurt.
Your head was pounding as though somebody had taken a jackhammer to the inside; the throbbing undoubtedly came from an earlier blow that you’d taken a second too long to dodge. Dried blood pulled tight against your temple every time you moved, skin stiff and sticky, but the fight hadn’t slowed enough to worry for it now.
Chopper cowered behind your legs. His hat bobbed uncertainly as he peered toward the enemy that searched for your group. You knew Chopper was hoping for the others to return but there were no signs of them yet. Robin had already exhausted herself to keep you and Chopper alive during the initial attack and now she struggled to stand straight.
Which left only Zoro whose chest heaved as he lifted his swords once more, a slight shake to the blades that steadied quickly.
“Zoro, you’re hurt!” Chopper hissed. He was trying to whisper but the tears creeping into his voice drove his words louder. “You can’t fight anymore! Luffy will be back soon!”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You can’t! You’ll – ”
“Chopper, please.”
At your plea, Chopper’s hysterics cut off, his eyes flicking to you like some kind of betrayal. His high tenor still rang in your ears but you ignored them and walked a little closer to where Zoro was standing.
He was badly injured. You knew that last hit had done decent damage. You reached forward to swipe some blood away from his split lip, focusing on the way his breath felt against your skin. Alive, for now.
And though you were tempted to agree with your doctor and beg him to stay with you, you couldn’t. Not when you knew his pride already ached for this fight.
“You’ll be fine,” you said to him. “You won’t die because if you do, I’m finding my way to whatever afterlife you wind up in and I’m dragging you back here.”
“Obviously,” he said, meeting your eyes.
“Good.”
“You hurt?”
You didn’t bother lying. “Nothing important. We can find out what’s wrong after you win.”
He gave a firm nod and brought his sword back to his mouth. “Don’t die.”
“As long as you promise the same.”
Your gaze caught on him for half a second too long. You saw the way he steadied his stance, on the blood already starting to run down his side.
Then you turned away. Pressed your back against the rubble and slid down to a seated position on the ground. You’d watched Zoro fight a thousand times but in moments like these, you would not.
If he was going to get hurt, you refused to witness it.
You pressed your back harder into the broken stone, eyes fixed stubbornly on the scattered debris. Anything but the sound of steel hitting steel.
“How can you encourage him like that?” Chopper asked, his voice harsh and loud now that the danger was distracted. “He’s badly hurt!”
He would be fine. He would be fine and Luffy would get back from wherever he’d run off to in time. And then later, you’d complain loudly at your captain for not being back earlier and everything would be the same as it always had been.
If you repeated that enough in your head, you would believe it.
Or at least, you would hope.
Chopper marched closer to you; the clopping of his hooves on the ground made you lift your gaze from the rubble. He was also hurt slightly but despite the fur sticking in every direction, you knew he wasn’t out.
“Not now,” you said with a firm shake of your head.
“You’re also hurt.”
“Treat me when we’re done here,” you said. “Otherwise, I’ll be fine.”
He stomped his little hoof against the ground. “Why is everyone in this crew so stubborn about medical stuff?”
You didn’t look over your shoulder but a loud crash followed by collapsing chunks of rubble made you draw your shoulders tightly to your ears. “I’m not meaning to upset you but I’m not that badly hurt. I’ll wait for him to be alright first.”
“He pushes himself too hard.”
“I know.” Your fingers curled slightly against your arm, nails pressing just enough to ground yourself.
“So why do you always encourage him?”
You exhaled slowly, eyes still fixed ahead. “Because he’s going to do it anyway.”
“He might listen to you.”
“I couldn’t ask him that.”
Thankfully, Luffy arrived soon. You heard the moment your captain entered the fight with a cry but still, you refused to raise your head. Not yet. Not until Robin spoke, her voice achingly relieving.
“It’s over.”
“They won?” you repeated.
She nodded and you sighed out the burden from your lungs. Above you, the night sky sparkled with a thousand stars. You watched them for just a second before you stood, finally ready to face the carnage.
Zoro was still standing. Barely. His shoulders were heavy but already he lowered his blades to the ground, the faintest proud smirk on his face.
Chopper got to him before you did, the small reindeer bounced around Zoro, fussing even as the swordsman turned his head toward you. His gaze found yours, sharp and searching in a way that made your chest tighten.
You couldn’t help yourself. You smiled even though the concern pounded in your chest.
He nodded and you inclined your head toward him.
It was hours later before the tension managed to seep from your bones and even then, it lingered. You were making your way to the showers when you heard familiar footsteps and decided to wait, leaning against the doorframe as Zoro appeared, stopping a little too late for somebody who had noticed you.
“I don’t think you’re meant to be here,” you mentioned.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
He was heavily limping. You could see blood seeping its way through Chopper’s bandages, a tad too dark to be there before. He gestured with his head for you to move to the side. “I can shower.”
“I remember hearing our doctor telling you to stay in bed until at least tomorrow.”
“’s technically tomorrow. It’s past midnight.”
You hadn’t realised it had gotten so late. Still, you wouldn’t be able to drag him back to the medical cot if you tried. You stepped into the bathroom first, hearing him follow you with heavy steps.
“Need some help?”
“If you’re offering and not going to complain anymore.”
You followed him to the shower, peeling off layers of clothing that were borderline unsalvageable anymore. Because of course Luffy’s bloody flip flops could go through hell and back but seas forbid even one of your shirts made it through an island visit unscathed.
Zoro tugged at one of his bandages and you took the fabric from his hands before he could rip it off, bundling it up so you could reapply it later.
His breath hitched and you felt it more than you heard it, watching the skin tighten around his sides.
“What happened with you?” he asked, gaze lingering around your torso.
“Cracked ribs. Nothing that won’t heal before we reach land again. Do I even want to know how many concussions you got?”
He grinned. “Don’t think there’s a number.”
Steam curled thickly through the small space, clinging to the walls. The water was far too hot when it hit your skin and you whipped your hand back like you’d been scalded.
Zoro didn’t react. You had no idea why he liked to have the temperature turned so abysmally high all the time. The movement shifted uncomfortably against your ribs and you braced a hand against them.
“You should be lying down,” he said.
“That makes two of us,” you retorted.
His stitches were bleeding. You did your best to clean them while he washed his hair as though he was fighting with it. You had to step close to reach properly, your arms brushing his sides with each swipe. Your fingers trailing over the marred skin.
“Do you not think I’ll win?”
The question came unexpectedly. Water dripped down his face, pooling just below a rather unfortunate bruise that was starting to form under his right eye.
“Do you not think I’ll win?”
You shot him a look. “What kind of question is that?”
He shrugged slightly. “You watch everyone else when they fight. Even the cook.” His gaze stayed on you. “Not me.”
The defensiveness rose quickly, but you swallowed it down before it could come out sharp. “I’m standing naked in the showers with you at midnight and you’re worried about where I was looking?”
Zoro rolled his shoulders. “Just wondering why you don’t bother for me.”
“It wouldn’t change anything,” you said.
“Didn’t say it would.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
He exhaled through his nose, slower now. “You always tell me to keep going.”
“Because you’re going to anyway.”
“Yeah.” His gaze didn’t shift. “And you won’t even look.”
That stung more than you expected.
“That’s not what it’s about,” you huffed.
“Then what is it?”
You gestured helplessly. “Is it really that surprising that I don’t want to watch you get hurt? That I love you enough to not want to see you bruised and bleeding, wondering if any hit is going to be the last one? Because even if I did beg, you’d keep going?”
“Maybe I would for – ”
“Don’t lie to me,” you interrupted. “You know you wouldn’t. I trust you to win but I’d rather not watch you nearly die to do it.”
Water pooled around your feet, the only sound for a minute while you finished cleaning around the incision. Blood ran clear before you moved on.
He exhaled through his nose. “I guess.”
You exhaled slowly, tension easing enough to breathe again and you smiled, a familiar and warm gesture that you couldn’t help.
“Also stop being jealous,” you said, voice soft. “Seriously, I barely even look in Sanji’s direction.”
“I’ve never been jealous.”
You put your hands on your hips with a small laugh. “Zoro, you get jealous of Luffy sometimes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
You turned off the water, reaching for a towel that lay just out of reach.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“Always.”
“Not just for this but… the other stuff too. Trusting that I’ll win and worrying.”
“If there’s one thing in this world that I know I can rely on, it’s you and those swords,” you said with a smile. “Although I would appreciate it if you stopped dancing with death so often. It doesn’t do well for my mental health if I’m jealous of the reaper.”
He snorted. “You have always been the jealous one in our relationship.”
“Oh really? Maybe I should ask Sanji if he wouldn’t mind helping with my hair – ”
Zoro grabbed you, pulling you into his chest unexpectedly, his arms tight around you. The towel slipped uselessly in your hand, his skin still damp and warm where you caught yourself against him.
[Some nights, Sanji has nightmares about hurting you. Some nights, you make a grilled cheese at 3AM.]
this is kind of related to "Miss Goldenweek paints you afraid of Sanji"
Sanji is running.
Whether he is being chased or the one chasing – he can’t be quite sure. It doesn’t matter to him; he simply must keep going. Despite not knowing what awaits him should he stop, a sense of dread inside Sanji’s stomach tells him that some things are better left unknown. Once he learns about the horrors lurking behind tall trees and hidden in the dense foliage, there is no way he could return to blissful ignorance.
He stumbles over an exposed root, yet manages to keep his balance. The chase continues.
In the distance, someone is sitting against a tree. Redness of a fresh wound stands in stark contrast to the green forest. Their shoulders slightly rise with each raspy breath. If it wasn’t for that small sign of life, they would resemble a corpse more than something alive.
Sanji recognises the face – it’s you. His chase suddenly comes to a halt. The dread that has been sitting in his viscera grows. It moves upwards until it’s stuck inside his throat. Sanji is choking on his unwept tears, unvoiced screams and unheard silence.
His legs collapse underneath him. He’s trying to say something but all that leaves his mouth is a gasp.
Your eyes open slightly with great effort. Tears roll down your cheeks. There is sadness and fear in the way you look at him but also a sense of defeat. For some reason, you’re choosing to give up on something.
Dry, cracked lips move slowly. “Just finish it,” you whisper.
Sanji, still cotton-mouthed, furrows his eyebrows. Surely you can’t be asking him to put you out of your misery? Neither of you is the type of person to ask for such a favour or agree to it.
As your hands move away from the large, red stain on your clothes, a deep wound is visible. It has no beginning and no end. Blood keeps pouring out of the injury. Sanji is unsure if he can see some of your internal organs or if it's just the reflection of the sunlight in the scarlet liquid.
“Why would–” Your sentence is cut short with a wheezing cough. “Why would you do this to me, my love?”
You must recognise the confusion on his face as your weak, trembling hand reaches towards his own. Your skin is sickly cold. Sanji’s eyes follow your movement. He stares at his own palms as though they are unfamiliar, hands belonging to another. Blood, your blood, is covering them completely. It drips onto his clothes but doesn’t ruin the clothing anymore – his pants and shirt are also stained red and brown. Sanji tries to wipe his hand on the surrounding foliage but no matter how much he rubs, the blood is still stuck to his skin.
“You’ve caught me,” you whisper between coughs. Your face is much paler than usual. “Now do what you must.”
Is that why he’s been running? To finish the most deplorable act of his life?
“N-no, I–” Words are stuck in his throat. There is so much to say that Sanji can’t decide where to begin. “I wouldn’t–” He stops himself, unable to speak into the aether the sin that has no absolution. His lips tremble as Sanji examines his bloodied hands again.
Perhaps he wouldn’t, and yet, he did.
Sanji is startled awake. He’s panting, trying to catch the breath that keeps escaping him. Clothes are sticking to the sweat covering his entire body. Despite being hot, a cold shiver runs down his spine. Frantic gaze studies the darkness surrounding him.
Whether it’s a conscious decision or an ingrained reflex, Sanji reaches towards the other side of the bed. His hand meets the soft fabric of your t-shirt. He feels under his fingers how your back slowly rises and falls with each breath. Sanji rubs gentle circles between your shoulder blades. It’s a soothing motion but he’s unsure whom it’s supposed to soothe – him or you?
He thinks back to the strange dream he just had. Images flash before his eyes while Sanji is trying to make sense of the horror conjured by his mind. The thought of hurting you, especially on purpose, scares him, although he isn’t sure it should. After all, what purpose is there in fearing things that are completely impossible? He could never raise his hand against you, so why should he be mortified by that ridiculous made-up scenario? It is then that Sanji questions his own identity. What if, through forces yet unknown to him, Sanji could hurt you intentionally? If there is even the smallest percentage of unspeakable malice residing in his lovestruck heart?
That thought scares him more than the sight of you bleeding out in front of him. What if that image isn’t as far-fetched as he likes to believe?
His hand momentarily retreats from your back. Sanji recalls the strange sensation of looking at his own hands and not recognizing them; the limbs that belonged to a stranger, and yet, it was his blood that run through them. If his hands could become estranged from him, perhaps it was best to keep them far away from you. Who knows when his body would turn against him?
The loss of the gentle, soothing caress stirs you awake. You slowly open your eyes and rubs them with your hands. Silvery moonlight crept into the bedroom through a round porthole.
In the twilight of the night, you saw Sanji staring down at you. His eyes glistened in the crescent’s soft glow. “What is it?” you mumble, teetering the line between wakeness and slumber. “Something happened?”
Sanji shakes his head, while his eyes fill with even more tears. They remind you of the starry, black sky reflected in the ocean. As waves ripple the surface, the image gives impression of something incredibly soft – the rarest of velvets.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry,” he chokes out.
The audible tightness of his throat makes your chest clench. Here is the man who prides himself in being dependable, the devoted thistle stuck to the sweater of your heart. And that man is broken in a way you have never seen before, drowning in vulnerability even he can’t quite grasp. Despite that, he clings onto the role of the man he wants to be for you. Maybe in some strange, naive way, Sanji believes that if he can convince you, he might convince himself as well.
“Nothing?” you repeat. The word leaves a bitter aftertaste on your tongue as you take in the unspoken tragedy of the man in front of you. “You look like you’ve just run a marathon.”
“Had a…” he pauses for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line,” weird dream, that’s all.” Sanji nods slightly, more to himself than you. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart.” The back of his hand brushes your warm cheek. “Go back to sleep.”
Before he can retreat his arm, you grab his wrist and keep the palm of his hand against your face. Although Sanji is not pulling away, he’s not cupping your cheek either. He’s frozen still.
“Was it sexy weird or scary weird?” you ask, hoping that some humour might bring his walls down.
Sanji swallows with difficulty. The tightness of his throat is already painful, yet it continues to grow. Your concern and affection for him stands in stark contrast to the bloodied image from his nightmare. To think that he would ever choose to hurt you… Sanji feels the pit in his stomach turning into an abyss, greedily swallowing him from the inside. As much as it pains him to keep things from you, he knows that he has to make an exception. There is nothing noble about honesty if the truth is so terrible. No, it is much better for you if he keeps the horrors of his mind to himself. Whether it’s love or fear, if they are ever separate beings, Sanji decides not to share the wickedness of his mind that even he is afraid of.
What he cannot stop, however, are the brimming tears. One of them slowly rolls down his cheek, reflecting the silver glow of the moon. It looks as though it isn’t a tear at all but rather a star that has lost its way. Perhaps the sky is weeping with him tonight.
“Terrifying,” he whispers, barely louder than a breath. The tear falls from his jaw and lands somewhere on the duvet.
The answer is both exhaustive and vague – with so few words, Sanji has told you all that you need to know. When a suave man decides to remain quiet, his silence is louder than any flowery sentence he could string together. As you listen to everything Sanji is unwilling, or unable, to say, you can hear the faintest of pleading. He seems to be lost in his pain with no way to escape it.
Still holding his hand, you get up from the bed. With a slight tug, you give him a signal to follow you.
Sanji remains where he was, glistening eyes staring at you with confusion. His fingers are desperately clutching yours, silently beginning not to be left alone. It’s impossible to say whether he means tonight or forever.
“Come on.” You tug at his hand again, nodding towards the door. “Let’s go.”
“Wha- Where are we going?” he croakes out, while shuffling towards the edge of the bed where you’re standing. It would be faster and less clumsy if he let go of your hand for a moment. Sanji, however, seems to think that lovers’ hands do not come apart.
“I’m going to grill you a cheese.”
Now you’re the one staring down at him. Sitting on the bed, Sanji looks up at you. He’s closer to the porthole than before, finally allowing you to fully see the bloodshot blue eyes that never dare to leave you. There is sadness and fear in his gaze. The sorrow glistens along with moonlight in the unshed tears. Beneath it is something else – something so raw and essentially human that has to be felt, not named. No word comes to your mind, yet your heart immediately recognizes it as pleading: Sanji appears to be a sinner, kneeling before a goddess to beg her for a miracle that would somehow fix all of his troubles. He hopes that a deity larger than him, larger than life itself, might be the one to take away the rot devouring him from the inside because he has no idea how to be a person again.
“It’s the middle of the night, sweetheart.”
Feigning shock, you place your free hand on your chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, is making a grilled cheese legal only during daytime?” You lean in very close, nose brushing against his flushed cheek. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”
Goosebumps litter his skin when Sanji feels your hot breath on himself. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”
You accept his declaration with a kiss on his cheekbone and the tip of his nose. With tears still in his eyes, Sanji smiles. The contradiction only makes him look more miserable.
As though he has no free will of his own, Sanji obediently follows you to the kitchen. There is a sense of deep trust and dependance in the way he lets you lead him. You’re aware of it – the firm hold you have on his hand seems to be a reassurance that you see his submission and vow to guard his vulnerable heart. In some way, you’re the only person who truly knows the value of Sanji’s heart. After all, isn’t the thief most knowledgable about the value of the items they steal?
Pale moonlight seeps into the kitchen through a large window above the dining table. The silver glow creeps along the wooden deck, curling around the furniture. It feels a little strange to witness the kitchen without Sanji preparing a meal. The genius loci is as if put on hold, patiently awaiting its master to return.
You turn on the light, determined to return one of many favours. Even if Sanji doesn’t keep count.
With the darkness gone, something about Sanji changes immediately. The spirit of the place seems to have awakened and the man who was crying not five minutes ago is suddenly preparing his space to cook. He’s crouching in front of a cupboard, looking for a pan, when he calls out to you:
“Get sourdough. Gets more crispy and doesn’t soak up the butter as much.”
As confused as you are about the turn of events, you take the loaf of sourdough out of the pantry. You really wanted to make something simple for Sanji, let him enjoy being taken care of for once. On the other hand, what if this is what he needs?
The loaf lies on a cuttingboard. You open one of the wide drawers in search of a knife. When you pick out one, Sanji appears right next to you, pointing out a different blade:
“No, take that one, it’s better. Actually, let me do it. They’re really sharp.”
With those words, he takes the knife out of your hand, puts it back in the drawer and picks up the one he prefers. At this rate, he’s going to make himself a grilled cheese.
A quiet sigh leaves your lips. That’s now how you wanted tonight’s escapade to go but at least he’s distracted from whatever strange dream he had. Although, is he really? The way he suddenly snapped into being a chef seemed artificial. He went from broken to focused in a time short enough to give anyone whiplash.
Sanji is not distracted at all – he’s clinging to a sense of control after seeing something absolutely horrifying. Inside, he is no more whole than he was when you woke up. It’s all a farce of a man afraid of having someone bear witness to his vulnerability.
As though he can hear your thoughts and is adamant that you’re wrong, Sanji speaks over his shoulder:
“It’s best to use more than one type of cheese. Sharp cheddar might be a little overwhelming, so maybe some Havarti or–”
“Oh my God, will you just sit down and let me do something nice for you?”
The kitchen falls into silence. Sanji turns around to meet your gaze. In his eyes, you see the confirmation of your suspicions: bloodshot and filled with tears. His cheeks glisten in the yellow light of the overhead lamp, betraying Sanji’s attempt at not letting you see him crying.
Gently, he lays the serrated bread knife next to the cutting board.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, quietly. He’s well-aware that he should have known better than to try to fool you. You weren’t buying it before and you’re not buying it now.
Sitting idly is strange to Sanji, uncomfortable even. His slouched shoulders and restless hands create the image of a man who has forgotten, if he has ever known, how to receive care or affection; someone who doesn’t know what to do with the love he is given.
Neither of you say anything while you’re making the sandwich. Every now and then you look in Sanji’s direction, only to find him already staring at you. His gaze follows your every moment. You can’t be quite sure if it’s a form of quality control of your cooking skills or if he finds watching you relaxing.
When you finally set down the plate with the grilled cheese in front of Sanji, he inspects the dish down to minute details. The comfortable silence of the kitchen is finally broken:
“Why is there a tomato in here?”
Out of all the things he could have said, you shouldn’t be surprised it’s that one. If you weren’t so worried about him, maybe you’d even laugh.
“That’s how my mum always made it,” you answer, shrugging.” Cheese, ham, tomato and ketchup. She’d also add mixed pizza seasoning but that entails the forbidden herb starting with the letter o.” You lean in to Sanji as though you’re about to say something secret or outrageous. “The o-basil.”
For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, Sanji chuckles. Here he is, being served a grilled cheese in the middle of the night with some bad jokes on the side. Not the finest of meals but he couldn’t think of anything more perfect than that.
Sanji feels your lips softly kissing his temple. They linger against his skin a little longer than usual.
“Eat before it gets cold.”
Something about this scene thrusts him into distant past. For no longer than the second between an exhale and an inhale, he’s a little boy again. Scared, lost, embarrassed. But most of all, he is loved. More than he will ever comprehend. His vulnerability isn’t weakness, it doesn’t pose danger, if you’re the one witnessing it.
Despite the questionable preparation and flavours, Sanji happily eats your dish. It’s the best grilled cheese he’s ever had.
would anyone be willing to beta read part of the first chapter (~1k words rn) for my opla!zoro x reader series rewrite? i want to see if this is good enough to continue D:
