Rereading This Because It's So Good.

Rereading this because it's so good.

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

WELCOME TO THE PHILIPPINES, MACKENYU!!!

---

The moment the notification showed up on my screen, I immediately clicked on it and started reading.

Thank you for another amazing chapter, author. Remember to take care of yourself.

Chaos in Their Bones Ch.7

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.  

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 13k+

A/N:  Thank you to everyone for being patient with me. I know this took a little longer than usual to be posted. This chapter is dark. Well, it deals with darker themes. It’s nothing too wild, just yet, but it’s heading there. This is a filler chapter and deals with the beginning of Doc and Zoro spending almost an entire week apart and a little more on Doc’s backstory. Thank you all for your music recommendations and the playlists you created. It helped me write this. I’m sorry if it isn’t that great. As always, thank you guys, for all the love and support. For always being so kind and loving my story as much as you do. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story🖤 Much Love, Jenn

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Previous

Warnings: mentions of torture

Five minutes. 

Five minutes Arlong gave you to go pack up your life on the Going Merry and report back to his ship. 

“If you aren’t back in five I’ll tear this place apart.”

You knew he meant it. The biggest giveaway was the way he’d kept a foot pressed against Luffy’s back. His clown henchmen repeatedly splashed water on him and laughed at every grimace they worked onto Luffy’s features. You knew it had to burn worse than that of a jellyfish sting. 

Mother Ocean held no sympathy for Devil Fruit eaters. Not even ones as good as Luffy.

You never knew you could hate someone so much in your life the way you hated Arlong. The way that hatred burned brighter under the weight of his dead eyes as they followed you up the ramp to the Merry. His guttural laughter chased you into your room where you struggled to gain your composure. 

This was the right call to make. That’s what you kept telling yourself. There was no doubt in your mind that Arlong would throw Luffy into the ocean just to make an example out of him. To laugh as he struggled to come to the surface knowing damn well Mother Ocean would never let him live. 

The world would be a lesser place without someone like Luffy in it. Your freedom for his life felt like such a small price to pay to make sure that didn’t happen. 

So, why did it feel so damn bad? Your room was still a haphazard mess from earlier. You still haven't gotten around to cleaning any of it up and now you would never get the chance. You wondered if you would ever see Naan again or if Usopp would have to tell her what happened. If Naan would call you a stupid, foolish girl as she would when you got caught trying to sneak out your bedroom window at curfew and leave it at that. Or maybe the news would cause her to finally break. 

It hit you all at once that you would probably never see Usopp again. Luffy. Sanji…Zoro. 

The thought alone made the tears you’d been holding back begin to fall against your desk. All the scattered bottles and notes seem to describe exactly how your life had turned out: an absolute mess. 

You wiped your cheeks and grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper and quickly began to scribble a note. You weren’t sure why, but you had a feeling that on the off chance, Zoro did wake up he might take your absence as a relief or might not care at all. It was your duty, literally the last thing you could do, to make sure he remembered that you gave him hell. 

You tossed the pen down on the table and started folding it over and over until it came back to the tiniest square. Small enough to fit in his palm. Letting out a heavy sigh you walked back to the door of your cabin and turned around one last time to look at it. 

Arlong and his fishmen were waiting just outside the Merry. You didn’t have time to try to set everything to memory. Arlong seemed like the type of asshole to punish people for the smallest of inconveniences - like making him wait a minute longer than you should’ve for you to show up. 

But you couldn’t just leave. 

Not without saying goodbye. 

Quickly, you made your way out of your room and down the hall towards Nami’s. It still hurt walking past the threshold to find Zoro’s lifeless body still where you’d left him. It’d been a day, but already it felt like a lifetime. Taking in a deep breath, you made your way over to the bed. 

You prayed that his eyes would magically open. That he would focus on you and smile like he was happy to see you. He would wake up and do what he usually does, hit things and somehow together with Luffy - and now Sanji - save the day. Realistically, you knew that couldn’t happen. You couldn’t allow it to happen. 

If Zoro magically woke up he would be in pain and his body still fighting to mend itself. The wound on his chest ran the danger of splitting back open if he so much as lifted that sword. No. This time Zoro couldn’t be your hero, but maybe you could be his. 

One day. 

The chair was still placed close to the bed and it tempted you to take a seat. To sit down and tell him everything one last time before…before…

Fresh tears caught in your lashes and blurred your vision forcing you to wipe at them furiously. The frustration was evident as you did it harder than was necessary, causing black spots to appear in your vision. 

“You missed one of your favorite things to do today.” Your voice betrayed you; tinged with the colors of every emotion that raged inside you. “The ending might’ve gone differently if you’d been there or maybe this is how it was supposed to end all along.” 

With the small square of paper written with all the things left unsaid between the two of you in your hand, you reached out and tucked it inside his palm. You allowed yourself to hold his hand just a little longer. A strong debate began to war inside you if you should reach out and run your fingers through his hair. If you should be doing anything at all. 

“I’m still mad at you, Zoro. You broke something inside me, and now you’ll never get the chance to fix it. I’ll be like this forever.” 

Every word came out gradually softer than the other until it was almost a whisper. Your hand reached out to allow the side of your finger to gently trace the sharp line of his jaw and, for a brief moment, you thought you felt the flutter of him squeezing your hands. It felt so real your eyes shifted down to your intertwined hands just to make sure. It didn’t surprise you to find you were the only one holding back. 

With your eyes shut tight, you took in a sharp breath and reminded yourself you couldn’t break down just yet. You still had to walk one last time in front of Luffy and your crew mates. The long walk to go up the ramp and stand on the deck of Arlong’s warship. A warship that carried someone you considered a friend who had some explaining to do. 

Opening your eyes you found Zoro looking blissfully peaceful, oblivious to everything that was currently happening. What you would give to experience just a bit of that for a second? 

“Even if I am forever broken…I don’t regret you.” 

And you meant it. Maybe Naan was right that caring for others made you weak, but you would gladly be weak again for Zoro if that meant sitting around a table drinking and allowing Nami to cheat at poker. And you knew she had to be cheating. No one won every game like that unless they were sneaking cards. 

Just like that, your time was up. You needed to go. 

You didn’t want Arlong or his goons to taint the Merry by walking on her deck and bleaching her wood with their hatred as they searched for you. You most certainly did not want him in here, or anywhere, with Zoro. 

With that thought in mind, you dipped down just enough that your lips were close to his ear. Your mind debated one last time if you should do this before you whispered, “When you wake up come and save me, Pirate Hunter, Roronoa Zoro. I’ll be waiting.” 

In a flash, you gently kissed his cheek and released his hand. Your feet spun around to the door quickly enough your vision tilted but you didn’t have time to adjust. You dashed out of the room and back onto the deck without ever looking back to notice the hand you’d been holding twitched. 

————

Your heart hammered in your chest as you crested over the side of the Merry. Arlong no longer held Luffy’s wet body prisoner underneath his foot. He’d let Sanji and Usopp bring him over to the safety of where the waitstaff had come out. 

You felt your stomach drop as you watched Zeff push his way to stand in front of his waitstaff. His eyes were wet with tears that you chalked up to the force of the wind. He looked ready to plead with you or to call you an absolute idiot. You could practically hear his gruff, “Don’t throw your life away like this,” sitting heavy in the air. You hoped he’d understand that you had no choice.

“My patience is wearing thin, girl.” 

As terrifying as Arlong was, you suddenly felt your skin flush with anger. Naan and Zeff called you girl based on affection; their voices tinged with the authority of a teacher. Arlong used it like an insult; a dog to be brought to heel. 

You could feel the acidic taste of that anger on the tip of your tongue. It threatened to make you do something stupid - something you knew he’d make you regret slowly and over time. You couldn’t trust yourself not to say anything so you kept your mouth shut and made quick work of making your way down the ramp. You’d barely stepped back onto the dock when the larger fishman came forward and grabbed your arm and almost lifted you clean off the deck. 

“Get your hands off her!”

You knew that voice. It belonged to a certain blonde-haired chef who sounded ready to take on Poseidon. 

“Don’t, little eggplant.”

“We can’t just-“

“I know, son.” 

It wasn’t until tiny pigtail Ninja swung you around that you were able to see them. Luffy was holding onto Usopp who was looking at you more lost than you’d ever seen him. The puppy dog look was usually reserved to try and get him out of trouble and never once was directed at you. 

Not until now. 

“Get going. We’ve done enough of this dog and pony show.” 

Tiny Pigtails released your arm and shoved you forward. He wasn’t giving you a chance to say last goodbyes or look back any longer. Weakly, you heard Luffy call your name in a plea to what? Turn around? Or maybe he wanted an explanation that they wouldn’t let you give. Either way, you were walking towards the beginning of the choice you’d made. 

He shoved you one more time and you were close to snapping when Nami appeared like a ghost. The grip she held on your arm was much lighter than that of Tiny Pigtails. As if the following was a suggestion and not a requirement. 

“Sister Nami will take you to the ship. You sail from there.” 

He didn’t move right away. He seemed to think you might make a run for it. To be honest, you felt a little offended. Did you really want to go with them? Hell no. Were you going to go back on your word and let Arlong hurt your crew mates? Also a big hell no. So, you had no other option than to walk back with Nami towing you to the ship. 

“I got it from here, Kuroobi.”

So, that was his name. You were still going to call him Tiny Pigtails just out of spite. 

Nami began to pull you towards the ship and you couldn’t help but pull your arm loose from her grip. The movement forced you both to stop and face one another. She looked panicked. Her eyes brimming with a mixture of emotions that left her in danger of bursting. 

“What are you doing?” She seethed. “Get to the ship.”

“I can walk there without a damn babysitter.”

Your words held as much bite as her own. If she wanted to play hard-ass pirate you could easily do the same. Although, a part of you wasn’t sure if she was playing or if her entire speech on hating piracy was real. This entire situation felt like a fever dream and was edging into a nightmare. 

The two of you walked up towards the ship in silence. Your teeth practically gnawing a hole into your cheek to keep you from bursting at the seams. 

You continued to follow her onto the deck of the ship. Your feet were never far from hers as she seemed to make a beeline towards a door that could’ve led to nowhere and everywhere all at once. It could’ve been a dungeon for all you cared, you just wanted to get her alone and-

The minute Nami’s body moved through the door frame you pounced. Your hands reached out to grab her by her shoulders and spin her around to face you. Unfortunately for you, Nami had training and she took your nonverbal desire for answers as danger. One minute, you were standing in the open and the next your back was against the wall with her forearm pressed extra snug against your chest. 

“Nami, I’m just trying to get you to talk to me.”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

Each word was squeezed between her teeth. Her eyes went wild as they searched your face and you weren’t sure what she was looking for, but if she simply asked you’d tell her. 

“Ugh, I think there is a lot to discuss. Besides the revelation of you working with Arlong, which I’m still up in the air about.” God, you were rambling but you couldn’t stop. “I’m also working on my own hypothesis that there is something else you’re not sharing-“

“Are you panic talking right now?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s noticeable.”

“I thought so,” you huffed. “But that isn’t going to deter me from the fact I did in fact have a working theory you’re still hiding something. It’s okay to tell me.”

Nami rolled her eyes as she released you and resumed her retreat somewhere back in the cabin. It was most likely a room she had on the vessel. 

“You and Luffy just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Is that a rhetorical question or-“

Nami whirled on you again and this time your hands went up in a show of surrender. 

“What do you want, Doc?”

“I want you to remember I’m your friend. I give a shit about you, even if you’re making horrendous decisions.” You took a cautious step towards her, hands still up in case she felt the need to shove you against any more walls. “I think you want to be here even less than I do.”

A whirlwind of emotions flashed behind her eyes in a hurricane of thought you couldn’t follow. You could see her going through every possible outcome in how to answer yours or maybe she was still trying to hide whatever it was she didn’t want you to know. 

“I am not your friend.” Nami tried to keep the anger that bristled through her earlier in her tone, but you could hear it breaking like glass. “I don’t need any of you.”

Your eyes scanned her face looking to see if there was something real there. Something more than she wished you would see but Nami hardened herself until the only thing you could see was indifference. 

“If you can’t believe what you’re saying Nami, how do you expect me to?”

“Just because I’m not who you want me to be doesn’t make what’s happening any less true. I’m going to my room. Don’t follow me.”

She knew you well. You did want to follow her because no matter how much she went on the defensive, you knew what you knew. Luffy had given Nami the map for either protection purposes or because she was the navigator or both. Either way, she’d had it since the first time they’d arrived at Syrup Village. Nami had plenty of opportunities to run with the map without ever saying anything. 

It was then you realized that’s exactly what she tried to do earlier yesterday in the morning. You’d caught her trying to leave but she’d returned because deep down, she knew who her real crew mates were and it sure as shit wasn’t Arlong. No, she’d been running from a truth this whole time and when she had the chance to steal away into the night she couldn’t. 

Honestly, leaving during Zoro’s duel to the death was the perfect escape plan. None of you would’ve noticed if Nami was gone until she had miles of ocean between herself and the Baratie. Yet, she couldn’t leave while Zoro fought Mihawk. She came back to be there for her friend she’d declared an idiot - a friend she came back to support even if she didn’t agree with his choices. Even when Arlong arrived at the Baratie all she wanted was to run and for all of you to run with her. 

No, the only person Nami was trying to fool here was herself and you were dying to know why. 

——————-

Come and save me, Pirate Hunter…..Roronoa Zoro….

The wind was talking to him again. 

At first, Zoro pushed it aside as a soft rustling of leaves and the bowing of branches swayed to a force he couldn’t see. It was a force he followed as he brought down his sword in practice. Every muscle was taut and ready to move into action at the flick of his wrist. His body was caught in a deadly game of balance of waiting and striking; for a chance to strike deadly and true. 

It was easy to ignore until he heard it again. The way the voice buried itself under the leaves at his feet and slithered its way to him. It started off like a whisper; a singular voice growing in volume until it reached him sounding like the voices of many. 

        ...pirate….hunter….

                                   Roronoa….

For a split second, panic overtook him. His practice stance turned defensive as both swords crossed to ward off any oncoming blow. His eyes scanned the clearing for a sign of energy - a reason to explain why his heart beat like a caged animal. His eyes were fixated in finding the sound until a hand on his shoulder brought him back to himself. 

He turned fast, swords ready to pierce, only to come face-to-face with Kuina. 

“What has you so jumpy?”

Her presence should have made Zoro feel more at ease. Maybe Kuina too would hear the strangeness that took over the grove, but for now she was waiting for an answer. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Well, it can’t be too much of nothing if it’s got you sweating like this.”

“I’m not sweating over the wind,” he bit out.

The smirk on Kuina’s face made him want to tell her to draw his sword. To send her thoughts of him being worried about wind or anything else in a resonating clash of swords. Zoro knew he would get his chance since it was time for them to train together anyway. 

“You finally surpassed me.” 

Her words startled him out of his stance. His swords hanging lifeless at his side, no longer caring about if he gave off anything other than strength. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember when I told you that eventually, all the boys will grow taller and stronger. You included Zoro.”

“Stop playing games, Kuina.”

No. Zoro remembered this conversation. The day she should’ve ended him for his weakness in their first battle of steel. She’d still been trying to train him even as he fought to end her life. The way she spoke about correcting his form - dropping his fucking elbow - and the sloppy way he rushed in out of anger. 

The same way he rushed in with Mihawk. 

He’d been consumed with his desire to become the world’s greatest swordsman. To take Mihawk’s title and prove for once that he was worthy of carrying her sword - her memory. 

No. What was he even thinking? He shook his head in anger to ground him back to this moment. To Kuina. 

“There’s no game to play here, Zoro. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Did you come to practice or spin your stupid tales of wisdom early?”

“Gods, you are still stubborn,” she hushed. 

Zoro could feel his words loaded on the back of his tongue and ready to release at any second. His annoyance felt potent at her constant word games and at her bringing up a conversation he’d informed her was idiotic. She was so powerful. Why couldn’t she see that?

“You don’t belong here, Zoro.”

Fuck. He was getting more confused each time she spoke. Zoro needed to sheath his swords, but he couldn’t shake the unease that he should keep them out. 

“Kuina, stop speaking in riddles and just tell me what you mean!”

“You’re floating somewhere between life and death, and now isn’t the time for you to die. You need to get back and grow stronger. Stronger than me. Stronger than you are now.” 

In an instant, the flash of the last few hours emerged at warp speed through his mind. Eating with Luffy and everyone at Baratie. Drinking. Mihawk. You. As if the thought of you was enough to conjure you, Zoro’s skin came alive with goosebumps like he’d sensed a ghost. 

Immediately, his eyes scanned through the forest hungrily searching for any sign of your presence and came up short. The illusion that’d been created was fading. 

He was no longer his younger self waiting for Kuina like he’d done countless times before. His skin itched to begin his training and to feel the vibrations of the metal ricochet in his palms. It was made painfully obvious that Zoro stood inches above her, and yet Kuina didn’t seem phased. 

She knew this would happen. 

“You can’t die here, Zoro. You have a promise to keep. remember?”

Of course, he remembered. He always remembered. Even before they made their vow, Zoro wanted nothing more - dreamed of nothing more - than to be the greatest in all of the East Blue. Of people coming from every corner of the world to try and best him in battle only to fall short. It’s all he ever wanted. Until Luffy offered him a home. Until you pushed him back inside his room with tinted cheeks that grew on him with each passing second. 

Zoro wanted to see you blush like that for the rest of his life. 

This time when the wind rippled through the trees and the sound of those words shook their leaves he knew what it was this time. Your voice. Your voice speaking to him somewhere far away. 

His eyes broke away from Kuina and looked through every entrance of the forest again. This time his body practically radiated with the knowledge you were close. All he had to do was find you. 

He turned fast on his feet and still nothing. It was maddening searching and searching and coming up short. Zoro could feel the rage building with the scream that clawed at his throat to be released. All the acidic fury willing to shake down the grove until, with one last turn, the fog seemed to release you from the curtain it’d placed on you. 

One minute the only thing in the entrance to the grove was fog. In the next breath, it dissipated, and standing there was you in the dress you’d worn at Kaya’s birthday dinner. The same dress he remembered seeing you walk down the stairs in and realizing that he was fucked. 

Zoro sheathed his swords as he called out your name. Your real name and waited for you to turn. To give him some form of acknowledgment that you’d heard him, but you were still glancing around as if you appeared lost. It wasn’t until Zoro took a step forward that the scene flew past him and changed like the reel of a film caught on fast forward. 

He thought he was going to be sick until it stopped and he was standing in front of mixed drinks. The same mixed drinks with delicate slices of orange peels floating inside champagne that were at Kaya’s manor. Zoro was still holding one in his hands when he heard the sound of someone descending the stairs. He didn’t need to look up to know it was you; he could recall this moment from the depths of his memory with ease. 

His eyes traveled up to watch you, nonetheless, until you stepped off the last step. You weren’t looking at him and he vaguely remembered being thankful for small blessings. 

I don’t want to know what life is like without you. 

Again, he could hear your words fresh, as if you’d just spoken them. Your eyes were full of pleading and he could hear the hope but also the sheer pain it took to tell him how you felt. All he wanted to do was tell you his own truth. He may have crawled inside your bones, but he’d equally found a home inside you. One that would surely drown him like the sea. 

As Zoro watched you move around the room he wanted to rush towards you and take your hand. He wanted to give you his own answer in reply - his real one - before his own uncertainty clamored back to take control. He upended the glass in one large swallow and set it back on the tray. His hand itched for him to grab another but he ignored it. 

Zoro still needed to grab his swords before he moved but-

If he wasn’t already on edge he would’ve been aware that you were walking towards him. Zoro wish he would’ve been more aware that you stopped, so when he turned, sword belt in hand, he wouldn’t have jumped out of his skin like he did. A ripple of irritation lit under his skin that you’d gotten him with something so small. 

“You enjoy sneaking up on people?”

“No. Just you.” 

Your smile was devious and practically sinful the way it curled your lips. It was a smile Zoro saw you give him only a few times, but each time it lit a fire in his blood that made you impossible to ignore. 

It all compounded when you placed a hand on his chest and took a step closer. Zoro remembered the way your hair looked - remembered even more the way the delicate straps of your dress hung low on your shoulders. How exposed you seemed to him at this angle. 

He’d never wanted to kiss someone more. 

Zoro was jolted out of his thoughts by a slap to his chest. His own hand seeking out to find what did it only to have you pulling your hand back to you. The other held a bottle as you motioned for him to follow. 

This wasn’t how this night went…

Maybe it wasn’t but Zoro was past caring. Not when you summoned him to follow you, and he recklessly did so, not caring about the possibility of being burned by his own desires. 

With his swords over his shoulder, he fell into step behind you as you weaved your way around doorways until you came back out to the garden. Zoro was about to ask where you were leading him - if he should be worried if dream you held any animosity for what he’d said - when you came to a halt at the foot of a statue carved out of marble. 

There was no doubt after the chain of events from that evening changed, that Zoro knew this was a dream. Dream or not, he liked this change. 

You found the spot you wanted between the hedges of roses and grass. The ugly ass marble statue a few feet in front of the both of you as he came to sit with you. The both of you waited until the other was settled before you popped open the bottle and took a long pull and set it down between your bodies.

Zoro didn’t hesitate to grab the bottle to take his own drink. Or a few. If he was going to talk about feelings, he was really going to need this drink. 

“So,” he croaked out before he took a drink. “This is a dream, isn’t it.” 

“Yup,” you replied, popping the p. 

“I have a hard time believing that. I don’t dream.” 

Zoro was in the middle of taking another drink from the bottle when your next words almost caused him to choke. 

“You do when you’re dying.” He glanced over at you then. The way you leaned back into your hands with your head tipped up at the sky watching the stars. It was almost believable you didn’t just tell him he was dying. “They say we usually see our lives flash before our eyes or see our regrets.” You looked him dead in the eye and asked, “What is it you’re regretting about me?”

“I don’t regret anything.” 

The words blurted out of him before he could stop them. He was still trying to process what you said. His own brain wondered if he was already dead or-

“You’re not dead yet,” you huffed. “And obviously you regret something with me or else I wouldn’t be here.”

You reached over and snatched the champagne from his hands and he watched as you brought the bottle to your lips and drank. 

“For being a dream, you sure do sound like the real thing.”

“And what does the real thing sound like?”

“A pain in my ass.”

God, even your laugh sounded perfect in his head. The way your head dipped ever so slightly back; how the throaty sound filled the space causing him to smile into his next drink. What he would give to listen to you laugh like that again.

After the lip of the bottle fell away from his mouth, he set it back between the two of you and looked out over the garden. Zoro really hated that statute. 

“So, I’m dying?”

The words formed in his mouth but felt wrong as he spoke them. Unable to believe that such a thing was even possible until flashes of his fight with Mihawk came back like a bitter aftertaste. The way he left things between the both of you before he walked out that door. 

I want to take it all back…

“Yes. Only if you want to be.”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed in on your position and felt a scowl begin to crease his brow. 

“Who would want to be dying?”

“Obviously, no one, but you have a choice. You’re teetering between life and death, and only you know how to get out of it.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

A light shrug raised your shoulders while your gaze stayed upwards towards the stars. 

“This is something you need to figure out on your own, Roronoa Zoro.”

               Come and save me

His heart slammed against his ribs as the air caught in his lungs. It was you he’d been hearing all along in his head, but the you in front of him wasn’t speaking. No. You looked every bit as ethereal as you did that night lying out in the garden with the moon cascading down around you. 

This was a perfect impression of you, but it wasn’t you. Not the you Zoro found himself drawn to no matter how much he tried to fight it. Somewhere out in the real world, outside of his head, you were calling to him. A noticeable desperation in your words as you called to him to come and find you. 

Something was wrong. Something was happening while he was here and-

“Zoro?” 

The sound of your voice beside him forced him out of his thoughts. The worry was still there wiggling like a worm in his mind, but when he turned his head, Zoro expected to find you different. Maybe in that not-so-awful outfit that he wanted to hate Nami for putting you in. Instead, you were still in that dress with your hair filled with pearls, and your eyes looking up at him as you now rested back on your elbows. 

You were breathtaking. 

“Why am I in this?”

“What?”

It seemed such a strange question to ask and his response wasn’t much better. Zoro was still trying to think past the adrenaline thrumming through his muscles causing him to find the hilt of a sword for comfort. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had missed something, and trying to think past it was maddening. 

“Out of every memory you have of me, why did you pick this one?”

It was true, wasn’t it? This was his head. He got to choose where you were and what you were doing and out of it all…

“It’s the first time I felt something when I looked at you.” 

The answer was so simple and looking at you now he knew it was true. 

“And now?”

The truth? This was a dream - a part of his head. So, why was it so hard to say? He reached out for the bottle and immediately took a long drink from it. Once he finished, he kept a hold of it in his hand. The coolness of the bottle gave him comfort as his eyes looked back over at you. 

“Now? Now I feel it all the time.”

It was easier to tell dream you this. If he needed to say this out loud to real you, Zoro wasn’t sure if he would make it. Somewhere along the way you’d become a part of his dream and intertwined the two together. While he wanted to be the world’s greatest swordsman, he also wanted you. There couldn’t be one without the other. 

Without giving it much thought, Zoro slowly reached his hand out to cup your face in his hand. It was something he’d wanted to do for days, but the fear of being rejected - of what it would mean to the promise he made -  kept him immobile. But this was a dream - his dream - and there couldn’t be any danger to giving in just this once. 

You pressed your cheek against his palm and he felt his other hand that was still painfully wrapped around the bottle tighten. All the self-control he struggled to keep ebbed away at the feeling of your lips pressing against his wrist. He could feel his pulse thundering on his own, and he wondered if you could feel it too, rushing against your lips.

In a split second Zoro made his mind up. He was going to kiss you; consciences be damned. He would deal with his promises and dreams afterward, but he needed this. He couldn’t go a second longer not knowing what you tasted like and if you wanted this as much as he did. If you felt as complete when he was with you. 

Just as he leaned in, you stopped him with a hand on his chest. Confusion clouded his face as he struggled to find a reason for you to do this when you said, “Come and save me, Pirate Hunter, Roronoa Zoro. I’ll be waiting.” 

One minute Zoro was with you lying in the grass of Kaya’s garden and the next his eyes were fluttering open inside Nami’s room. His body gave a painful jolt that left him grimacing with his nostrils flaring as he tried to breathe past the pain. His eyes weren’t ready to adjust to the sun just yet so he closed them. He preferred this better because it gave him time to think. 

Zoro noticed when he’d looked briefly around the room that you weren’t in it. No one was. So…how the hell was he hearing your voice? Words you’d spoken to him on repeat like the start of a bad adventure. He could vaguely recall other voices. One that sounded a lot like Nami, but not the Nami he knew. This Nami sounded broken and unsteady on her feet and less like the quick-witted and strong one he’d grown to know. 

You said it yourself. You don’t have any friends.

That was the last thing he’d told her. The last thing he’d told either of them hadn’t been that great. Zoro spoke out of anger and his own form of hurt. He wasn’t sure if either of you just didn’t believe he could do it, or if you were both just scared, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. 

Nami and you were never one to say what you thought others wanted to hear. You would both be honest even if it hurt.

He was still trying to figure it out, to think past the growing pain in his chest, when the sound of light footsteps entered the room. The footsteps slowly came closer until he felt someone hop on the bed. Zoro didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was Luffy, except that the usual chaotic energy that he carried seemed dimmed. Zoro wanted to ask him what was wrong, but another sharp pain in his chest suggested he sit that idea to the side for a few minutes longer. 

“Hey, Zoro. You sure missed a big fight. Those fishmen guys were tough. You would’ve loved it.” 

The idea he missed a fight imploded something molten and sinister inside his chest. Zoro did love a good fight. There was no denying the ache that tinged his muscles and rang through his hands to grip the hilt of a sword and slash mercilessly through the air. 

But Zoro noticed something else besides his own bloodlust for battle. Luffy’s energy was missing but so was the usual happiness in his tone. 

“And we had a pretty great dinner. All of us sitting around together, listening to Usopp’s stories. Only I kinda messed it up.”

There it was. The pitch dip that indicated to Zoro something major happened while he’d been out for - how long? How long had they been sitting here still at Baratie while he healed? 

“And now I lost Nami and Doc. I lost the Grand Line map. And maybe I will lose you too. I didn’t know what to say before but I know what to say now, and it’s so simple.” Luffy took in a deep breath and as he exhaled he spoke, “I need you, Zoro. I need you to wake up.” 

Well, now seemed as good a time as any to make his presence known. 

“You gonna keep talking, or let me get some sleep?”

His voice felt rough like sandpaper. His words dry and hoarse, but hey, at least he was speaking. Within seconds the bed moved in that frantic way Zoro knew he was in trouble, as Luffy jumped to straddle him. 

“Zoro? Zorooooooooo!”

Zoro couldn’t help it. He flinched. Luffy was screaming at warp speed into his face and he worried his eardrums were going to burst. 

“Zoro, you’re not dead!”

Without a second thought, Luffy dropped all his weight down onto his chest and immediately all the affection he had for his captain flew out the window. The pain was excruciating and I’d he had the strength he would’ve flipped Luffy off him. 

Where the hell was Doc when he needed you? 

“Right now…I’m wishing…I was.” 

The minute Luffy lifted himself up from his chest, Zoro took in a greedy breath and tried to ignore the searing pain. He really hoped you were around to give him something for the aforementioned pain. 

While he lay there, words that sounded like Nami fluttered in and out of his mind. It replayed it over and over until it converged with yours. Maybe he’d dreamed of both of you talking to him. Maybe none of it was real, but he wasn’t going to share the dream with you in it. That felt too…personal. Nami felt safer. 

“I had the strangest dream that Nami left.” 

“She did.” 

Zoro was in the middle of trying to fix his head on the pillow when the words hit him. A spark of dread blossomed in his chest. If Nami’s was real then…

Slowly, Zoro opened his eyes to the room and prayed they didn’t show the rising tide of panic. 

“It’s my fault.” 

Luffy sounded defeated. Ready to give up, and Zoro couldn’t have that, especially when Luffy believed in him when he needed it the most. Gently he shook his head in protest and said, “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. You acted like a captain.”

“But our crew is falling apart.” 

In a moment of clarity, Zoro knew what Luffy needed. He needed to know someone believed in him, just like he’d believed in Zoro when he needed it most. 

“No, it’s not. I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to stand by your side from now until the end. Until we find the One Piece or die trying. So bring on the Marines or pirates or sea beasts. You’re my captain, Luffy, and I’m your first mate.” 

Zoro placed a fist over Luffy’s chest and wasn’t surprised that Luffy covered it with a hand of his own. A smile of gratitude brought to life his usual mirth that made him sunshine in human form. It wasn’t enough to completely brighten him, but it would do for now. 

He could hear approaching footsteps coming at lightning speed and, for a brief moment, he thought it would be you. God, he had so much he needed to tell you. He tried not to let the soft tilt of his lips disappear when Usopp came shouting his name through the doorway. His body collided with the bed making it move just enough to remind Zoro he wasn’t at a hundred percent, yet. 

“Zoro! I wasn’t worried for a second.” 

Usopp tried to reign in his happiness to look calm, but Zoro was glad to see it. 

“He’s alive!”

He hadn’t calculated for Luffy to jolt his arm up like they’d just won some kind of battle. But fucking hell if it didn’t make Zoro’s stomach immediately roll with nausea as the pain became electric. 

Zoro couldn’t keep a groan from leaving him and instantly Luffy dropped his arm back down. He was situating himself again when he felt something inside his right palm. Zoro’s curiosity peaked, but he would wait to see it.

“And I told’em. I said, ‘You better not mess with the Straw Hats!’”

“Yeah!”

“Ba! Ba!”

A genuine smile curved his lips as Zoro watched Usopp pretend to fight off the fishmen. His arms flew at odd angles to hint at Karate before he slid back over to the bed. The sound of him cooling down and turning off is what made Zoro chuckle the most. 

“I sent them swimming for their lives.”

“You scared’em off, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“The Great Captain Usopp.” He waited to settle back into the pillow, his fingers now playing with the piece of paper that’d been placed in his palm. “Where’s Doc?”

At the mention of you, the whole room seemed to stop. Only the playfulness that had been built completely erased and was replaced by a heaviness that made it hard to swallow. 

“Zoro, Doc she…”

“She what?”

He didn’t know why the words came out as harsh as they did. They felt like an extension of his swords. Sharp and violent. 

“Arlong, the leader of the Arlong Pirates, was going to drown Luffy. Doc…she - she gave herself up to save Luffy.”

Come and save me, Pirate Hunter…

No. The word thundered through his skull. His fist clenched until he could feel the corners of the paper pressing painfully into the skin of his palm. He couldn’t believe it. 

You were gone. And what he’d heard in his dream wasn’t made up. That was the last thing you’d said to him before you’d bounded off in servitude to some other crew. 

“What do you mean, ‘gave herself up’?”

“She joined their crew, Zoro. She’s gone.” 

No. He wanted to shout it. To break the room apart and send the Merry into the depths of the sea. His rage was choking - toxic - and he had no way to articulate it further. He wanted to shout at them; to ask why they didn't try and stop you, but he already knew. There wasn’t any stopping you when you thought you were doing the right thing. 

He’d called you a liability once and he’d meant it. Because now the only liability you’d become is his own. 

“So,” Usopp’s voice cut across the tension. “What do we do now? Plot a course for the Grand Line?”

“Nope.” 

“But I thought we were going after the One Piece?”

“We are. But we can’t do it without our whole crew. First, we have to go get Doc and Nami.” 

Zoro needed to get out of this room so he could think. First, he needed a shower. Second, he needed some sun. 

———————

Conomi Islands.

It wasn’t what you expected.

While you’d come from the Gecko Islands where businesses ruled with their abundance of shipyards and armories. So far from what you’d seen as you walked the path to Arlong Park was a sea of tangerine groves. All the villages were modest in stature. 

This was farming land. Land meant to be owned by the men and women who worked to keep her trees growing and soil healthy. And she repaid their devotion in kind with wave upon wave of orange. 

You imagined before Arlong there’d been life to the villages you passed. The clothes people wore weren’t torn with excessive wear and color bleed dry from the fabric. You imagined the children actually ran and played instead of hiding behind the safety of objects or people; little eyes watching you every move. 

It broke your heart to see their looks of hatred and sadness. The desperation clawed at their features until it showcased the worry that you were just another bad guy who came to strip them of whatever life they had left.  

You noticed immediately that some of them were malnourished. The painful way the bones of one woman’s shoulder stuck out against the straps of her dress. The way you could easily count the bones in her sternum as she took a breath. An elderly man using a stick to move around a bandaged leg and you could bet it wasn’t properly being treated. 

You didn’t realize your body was moving towards him; helping others was as much a reflex as breathing. What stopped you was the tight grasp of Nami’s hand on your wrist pulling you back to fall in line. You whipped around to look at her and found only the stone-faced expression you’d come to expect. 

Nami dropped your wrist just as quickly as she’d grabbed it, and went back to facing forward. You tried to find a flare of anger to hold on to for her stopping you from helping, but realistically you knew she did it to protect you. 

If you’d moved out of line, moved to help that man or anyone else you saw, there was no doubt Arlong would make them suffer worse while you watched. He seemed like that kind of asshole. 

Once you made your way off the path through the groves, a large sukiya-style building loomed in the distance. It looked massive from what you could see, but as it grew closer it seemed to stretch farther and farther into the sky. It wasn’t until you were less than ten feet from it that you realized it was a compound. The outside walls were layers and layers of sand bricks and it wasn’t until Arlong shouted outside the large metal doors, that you began to be able to see inside. 

While the villages surrounding him crumbled into nothing, Arlong Park was literally an oasis. The inside was a paradise with a large pool with a rock slid off the side and a matching waterfall. Carnival games littered the sides with a bar sandwiched in between a ring toss game and a bag toss. 

Everything was lush and over-the-top and above all else, Arlong had a throne right in the middle of everything. There was no mistaking who was the ruler in this land and if you did, he would be sure to correct you. 

An ache began to grow and grow until it felt like a knife digging into your gut. Luffy would never willingly watch others suffer. He would never take until the land was stripped bare to the point even the soil was overworked with nothing left to give. 

You wanted to go home. You wanted-

A strong hand on your shoulder kept you from following Nami and it took every ounce of self-control you had left not to claw your way towards her. It was nice to see the flash of panic that sparked in her eyes before she smothered it down. 

No matter how much of a hard-ass Nami tried to be, you knew she cared. 

“Kuroobi, what are you doing?”

“Arlong wants her to go to the map room. She needs to get branded.”

“Branded?”

Your eyes flashed over to Nami’s bare arms, to the sword shark tattoo, and immediately tried to get out of Kuroobi’s grip. It didn’t matter if it was a futile attempt. 

“No way in hell am I letting you touch me with a needle!”

“Doc-“

Nami moved forward trying to - do what? You both knew she couldn’t stop them. Not when she wanted to continue to play the indifference card. 

“Don’t bother, Nami,” Kuroobi interjected. “You know this needs to be done.” 

“Well, I would like some backstory as to why this is needed. Don’t I get a say?”

“No. You don’t.” 

“Kuroobi-“

“Enough, Nami. I thought you said you didn’t care about these Straw Hats?”

For once, you didn’t care if she spit on your name. Kuroobi looked at her with suspicion clouding his eyes. She needed to be careful because if she ever gave away that she did see you as more than just another person, you were sure you would pay with your life. 

“I don’t. Just don’t get blood on my floor.” 

“What-“

With those parting words of Nami's, Kuroobi started walking towards the direction of the building. His entire hand wrapped around your arm as he dragged you practically behind him. You couldn’t keep the panic from boiling over as Nami’s words raced through your mind. What the hell did she mean by blood? You attempted to dig your feet into the ground, pry him off your arm, only to have him pull you so hard you thought he’d dislocated your arm. 

“Fight all you want, human. It’s not going to change the outcome.”

You gritted your teeth as you tried to keep from going over the lip that led to the walkway. You could see at the end of the walkway was another set of metal double doors, and once you were inside you knew there was no getting out. 

But you’d chosen this, hadn’t you? 

There were some things you expected when you signed up to work for Arlong. A shitty tattoo given like a marking of property wasn’t one of them. That’s what you knew it was. 

A joke. Something to mark ownership that you weren’t you anymore. You were a product to be used and discarded on a whim. You no longer belonged to yourself but to whoever marked their way into your skin. If you were going to let anyone mark you in any way, it was going to be a certain green-haired idiot recovering in Nami’s bedroom. Not anyone else and most definitely not a fishman indicating you as property. 

Just as Kuroobi went to open the door and push you inside, you kicked out landing your foot on the doorframe to knock you back. It startled him to where his grip loosened on your arm. It was enough to make you believe you could slip your arm out of his hand and make a run for it back to Nami. 

The fishman was faster than you gave him credit, however, and you ended up paying for that miscalculation. He pulled you back roughly by your arm, enough to dislodge your feet, before using your body to slam through the door. Kuroobi released your arm and your body went sailing through the air until it collided painfully with the stone floor.

To say the air was knocked out of your lungs would be an understatement. It was trapped there. Held captive in your lungs where they refused to move. All you could feel was the searing pain as the oxygen dissipated. Your arms and shoulders stung with unseen scraps from the force Kuroobi flung you into the room. The only reason you’d stopped rolling was by your back meeting a very unfortunately strong brick wall. 

You were struggling to right yourself on your hands and knees when he was just there. Large hands grabbed at your shoulders to hoist you to your feet. This time you didn’t have much fight in you to try and disobey his pushes as he directed you towards a set of spiral stairs. Kuroobi didn’t tell you to start climbing as much as he shoved you. 

If you were able to breathe, you were sure you would’ve said something petty, but damn if you weren’t shaken. You went up at least five flights of stairs until he stopped you and directed you to a set of metal doors that resembled the ones from outside. A latch to keep whoever locked in was already opened to allow him to shove you inside. 

There was light in this circular room, but just barely. It was enough to adjust the dimly lit room and you realized the only spot that held the natural light was in the center. A large table that was filled with drawing paper, and mapping paper, lay at the center. It was the only furniture in the room besides the small weaved baskets that held rolled-up parchments and papers. 

If you opened every single piece of paper in the dozens of baskets, would they all be maps?

The way everything was centered around that tilted desk, with the only light dedicated to that spot…you only knew one person who could draw maps from memory. Who carried books of atlases and maps like they were poetry. 

This is Nami’s room. 

For some reason, the realization didn’t make you feel better, it only made you feel worse. Part of that feeling came from your eyes landing on a shackle that was attached to a chain on the floor. This wasn’t something a willing member of anyone’s crew wore or needed to wear to make sure they stayed. 

If you weren’t forced down the small steps into the circle of the room, where the desk and its papers resided, you might have felt a little validated. Nami was as much a prisoner here as you were, and if it took you months or years you would find a way to get her out. 

You were kicked out of your thoughts by Kuroobi forcing you down to your knees. A growl sharp and acidic rose up in the back of your throat as you attempted to get back up. His hand kept you easily in place. 

“Let me be the first to formally welcome you into your exclusive membership of the Arlong Pirates.”

At the sound of his deep voice, your head shot up from the floor to find Arlong coming through the open doors. A sickly smile flashing rows of shark’s teeth to the soft glow of the light. Somehow, he looked more threatening here than he did back at Baratie. You would’ve been impressed if it didn’t mean you were the one stuck alone with him. 

“Thanks,” you bit out. “It doesn’t feel like much of a choice.” 

“You’re the one who made the deal, girl. I’m just the only one who accepted the terms.”

He made his way down the steps and circled his way to stand in front of you. All fishmen were born with the DNA of the sea within them. Mother Ocean placed pieces of her own children inside them, which is how each one of them was unique. You’d wished Mother Ocean had placed a scuttle fish inside him instead of a predator. 

“Yeah, an agreement for me to treat any of your sick fishmen and teach you how to make the medicine yourself. Not to be branded like a sea cow.”

This earned you another smile. Another long look in your direction before he finished walking the few inches to stand directly in front of you. 

“And we’ll get to that part of the deal. In due time.” 

“Then there is no deal,” you spit out. 

You were trying to be braver than you felt. You also knew the chance of diminishing your worth was a dangerous game. Arlong didn’t seem the least bit phased. In fact, he seemed very much in control. 

“The deal stands.” Arlong’s words were final. An end to a conversation that barely got started. “See, in this crew, the humans need to wear a symbol of their loyalty on their skin.”

“Can’t it just be a nice fashionable patch on a jacket? I hear patches are coming back in style-”

Kuroobi slammed a fist into your side and it crippled you down on the cool stone of the floor. You were still trying to retain your breath from earlier when Kuroobi had launched you through the doors. It didn’t take much for you to sound like a dying fish gasping for air. 

“You want me to have it placed somewhere fashionable?”

Arlong bent down to look at you, his obsidian eyes bleeding with sinister glee. “I hear tattoos on the back have become all the rage for women.” 

“Damn. Too bad my shirt is in the way. You could always put it on my middle finger.”

You raised it up just in case he needed a visual on where exactly you meant.

“Funny,” he spit. “You’ve got some guts in you. Looks like I’ll need to rip some out to make you tow the line.” 

“Good fucking luck with that.”

It wasn’t smart. You don’t know why you suddenly felt the need to have a death wish. You also knew looking into Arlong’s face - being inside Nami’s prison - you wanted to tear him apart. You didn’t want to go quietly anymore. Whether or not you made this choice willingly, you also willingly could agree Arlong could fuck right off. 

Arlong must have sensed the rebellion growing inside you. He didn’t appear threatened or worried. No, he simply grinned and showed his teeth as his eyes looked over your shoulder to Kuroobi. 

“Place our Jolly Rogers symbol on her shoulder. Make it large and proud.”

“I told you I’m not taking off my shirt.”

“We have other ways of getting to where we need.” 

Arlong nodded his head and within seconds you could feel Kuroobi’s hands on your back. One large, finned hand holding you face down towards the stone floor, while the other gripped your shirt and pulled. 

The sound of tearing cloth erupted in the room and your arms desperately scrambled behind you to try and knock his hand away. But the more you tried to reach for his hand, the more Kuroobi shoved your head closer to the stone. All the emotions you’d felt since you offered to go with Arlong to save Luffy had all been bottled away. You reminded yourself constantly,  over and over, that you chose to make this offer, and with all the anger and panic and fear that churned in the cauldron of your mind, you tried to silence it. 

You never planned on this. 

With one last violent tug from the fishman behind you, your shirt collapsed forward. The back was completely ripped away and left your back bare with the remains of what was left falling forward. Quickly, you moved your arms to cover your chest before it left your breasts exposed to the room. 

The weight of a scream pressed behind your teeth but your lips refused to part. You wouldn’t give Arlong the satisfaction of hearing anything. The only downside to this whole thing was your arms were crossed against your chest leaving your naked back exposed. 

You could vaguely hear Kuroobi moving behind you. His hands grabbed at objects you couldn’t see but that you knew was the placement of ink. The minimum amount of sunlight eclipsed into shadow as he towered at your back. 

This couldn’t be that bad. You tried to think of all the worst things you’d experienced. Splinters. Splinters in any shape or form sucked. Naan’s blood pudding. An experience that you could see being part of Dante’s seven layers of hell. 

….watching Mihawk slice Yuro into the chest of Zoro. 

You thought back to the last thing you told him. Whispering your words into the ear of a man who was tethered on the brink of life and death. A man who, for all you knew, was still in a coma fighting for his own life and you’d asked him to save you. 

As if you couldn’t save yourself. 

The first strike of the needle pierced through your skin. You had a lot of thoughts about what it might feel like, but none of it compared to what it really was. The way your skin fought against the needle's entrance and swarmed it once it violently shoved its way into your skin. With each new thrust, Kuroobi seemed to pierce it harder and harder. It was enough to make your teeth savagely dig into your bottom lip. That scream you’d trapped in your throat was building back up with every forceful shove from Kuroobi. 

Your eyes were trained on the stone floor and following the cracks like a river. You were desperately trying to steady your mind to find yourself somewhere else - somewhere safe - beyond this room. It was interrupted by the appearance of Arlong’s shoes stomping into view. You refused to look up at him and that disobedience was rewarded by his hands fisting in your hair and forcing you up to look at him. 

The saw of his nose cut across your cheek as he growled into your face. The bare teeth turned into a snarling smile as he painfully brought your head further back to expose your neck to the room.

The way animals expose their bellies to alphas. Arlong wasn’t a true alpha and he could expose your throat with force all he wanted, but he didn’t earn your respect and he never would. 

“A disobedient animal will always be brought to heel.”

You wanted to tell him where he could shove his obedience. You could feel the words forming until you saw him nod to Kuroobi behind you. The next stab of the needle went so deep you felt it touch your shoulder bone. The pain was instantaneous and finally ripped the scream loose.

That one stab into your skin sets the tone for the brutal pace of every next jab of the needle into your flesh. Each one harsher than the last and scraping fresh marks against your bone. All the while Arlong continued to hold you by your hair with your tear-streaked face forced to look up into his grinning one. 

“You think I don’t know what games you’re playing, girl? Your kind are the ones who made us sick! You give us diseases that run rampant amongst my people leaving you, our enslavers, the only ones to cure us.” 

Another stab of the needle and it tore the air from your lungs. You didn’t have enough to scream. Only a fresh tear slid down your cheek as you tried to look up into the blinding spot of the sun and were greeted by darkness. 

“I’ll make you pay for infecting my people. I’ll make you pay by bleeding every last bit of knowledge from your squishy human brain and maybe turn a profit from you. Maybe make you heal some blind folks,” he chortled, “or maybe have you keep lonely sailors company. You look pretty enough.” 

Arlong’s hatred of humans left him beyond angry. It left him without thought and reason to be dangerous. You weren’t even born when the enslavement of fishmen began; when their fear of the unknown turned them blindly into trying to own what they feared. You’d barely been born when they’d been freed, but it didn’t mean that some fishmen didn’t stay behind in the yard. Their entire life is made up of other men telling them when and how to work; to live. 

And yet, Arlong placed knowledge you gained from Naan to help and heal into something evil. Something potent with ill intent until the only thing left was meant only to cause harm. 

For the first time in your life, with blood trembling down your shoulder and tears streaking your face, you knew what it meant to hate. You knew what it meant to be consumed by the wildfires of rage and make them pay. You’d made a vow to never willingly harm another soul, but staring up into Arlong’s sinister smile you knew you would gladly make an exception. 

Maybe that was when your soul fractured. The darkness you’d felt on your knees at the dock as you watched Zoro fight Mihawk edged at your vision. The weightlessness of an emptiness that threatened to consume you and leave you cold. You could feel it building and building - sweet whispers and images of you being free from this place as long as you simply gave in. 

Whatever you do child, when you hear that little voice telling you to let go: don’t. You fight it. 

You wondered if this was the voice Naan warned you about. The one she’d brought up as she cleaned up the blood that crusted at your nostrils and added to your busted lip. 

You were six. The older kids cornered you down by the wharf and tried to send you “back where you came from.”  You’d been so scared and even now could remember the way your lungs burned as you sucked in water. Your tiny fingers clawed the sand as they held you under not realizing you were drowning. Or maybe they did. Maybe - just like Arlong - they were so full of hatred that they couldn’t see past their own biases, their own fear, that all they cared about was getting rid of something unknown. 

And just like you’d felt that darkness welling up inside you as that frightened little girl pleading to the universe for help, the darkness answered, and it bled into your vision. 

You were chaos in motion.

This time when you screamed you let all the fear, the rage, your own venomous alienation and hatred that brewed in the recesses of your body; boiling under the blood and bones. This time when you inhaled, your lungs filled every available inch with air and when you released it you felt the world begin to tremble at your feet. 

—————————-

A warm hand on your bare back startled you off the floor. Instinctively, an arm rushed up to press what little of your shirt remained. You expected to see Arlong’s smug face in front of you and sighed in relief when instead it was Nami. 

She looked worried as she took in your present state. The hand she’d placed on your back still hovering where you’d been but not moving. Big blue eyes watched you carefully while she assessed you. Your own eyes looked down to her hand and found, what you hoped, was a shirt. 

“Please tell me that shirt is for me?”

Gods, it sounded like you’d been gargling glass. You could taste the faintest hint of copper on your tongue. An old wound made fresh the minute you opened your mouth to talk. Speaking of wounds… 

Everywhere hurt. The whole left side of your body felt like it had been flayed open and salt was poured in. You were aware of the dried blood that had left behind a thick flaking crust of rust and your face… your right side was sore. Your eye socket swelling with every passing minute. You couldn’t recall being struck in the face, but it would explain you waking up on the cold floor. 

As if remembering she held the shirt in her hand, Nami looked down at the item in question before she extended her hand out towards you. She looked relieved to see you but…also afraid. You just couldn’t figure out if it was for you or because of you. 

“Are you alright?” She let out in a rush. “You’ve been out for quite a while and I didn’t know-“

Didn’t know if you were dead. 

Those were the unspoken words Nami didn’t have the courage to speak out loud into the universe. Like it was a curse that could change its mind at any minute. You gently moved to sit better on the floor and found the same shackle now cuffed on your ankle. 

Nami’s eyes followed yours to the chain that slithered around the floor as you moved to be as comfortable as you could. It wasn’t hard to notice her own disdain at seeing it again. 

“They placed it on you when they thought you might make a run for it. And also after what happened.”

“What did happen, Nami?”

You took the shirt from her but made no move to put it on. This was the most vulnerable you’d seen Nami since you’d both left that day from the Baratie, and you couldn’t let it go to waste. Not when the chances of her putting her walls back up were so high. You knew it was this room that was making her crumble. Plus, you were willing to bet you looked not the greatest at the moment. 

Nami swallowed hard before she answered, “I don’t know. Arlong nor Kuroobi would talk to anyone when they left. They just told no one to go in - said the structure was unsafe.”

“Well, that was certainly more cryptic than I would’ve wanted in an answer.”

Your last words hissed through your teeth as you gritted against a wave of sharp pain from your shoulder. It set off a landslide effect, because the minute you winched at the pain your entire face lit up. 

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“I never said you weren’t, Nami. My stance on you hasn’t changed.”

Nami looked away from you as she moved to stand with her fists noticeably tight. She looked ready to break at any second, and that’s why you could understand her turning to leave. She’d come to do what you suspected was her only real reason to come. You were alive. She gave you a shirt and that was all you needed. Everything else would heal, eventually.

She’d made it halfway out of the circle, her feet stopping on the last step before she turned sharp to look at you. You’d started trying to peel your ruined shirt off and stopped part of the way. Your eyes met hers as they started to shatter. 

“Why did you even come? Why did you do this when you knew something like this could happen to you?”

It dawned on you within seconds that Nami was blaming herself. She couldn’t stand to look at you because you represented a mistake on her part. Something that was breaking whatever facade she created to survive. 

You didn’t know when Nami had been brought to this room. If this chain you were now attached to began with her, and it did…she wasn’t the adult she was now. Whatever pain Nami held was her own right, but your choices weren’t her responsibility. 

“I came because you are my friend, Nami. I don’t know why you are doing the things you are. I’m sure you have your reasons and, when you’re ready, I’ll hear them. You’ve been alone for a long time. You don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

You watched as she took each of your words. The way she tried to remain unmoving at the weight of them and what they meant. She took in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. 

“Zoro’s going to be pissed when he sees you like this.”

A snort of laughter escaped you and it was followed by instant regret. You were going to need medicine for your face before it swelled your eyes shut. 

“Yeah, like he’s ever going to see me like this.”

——————

It turns out going out for some sun was a terrible idea. 

It wasn’t helping clear his head in the slightest. It was usually one of the things he enjoyed the most - finding a good spot, like this one on a crate in front of the main mast. The sun pouring down directly on him warmed him down to his toes, except no matter which angle he turned, Zoro still felt cold. 

A weight had begun to bury itself deep inside his chest. One that aches along with the wound on his chest. A wound that you should’ve been there to examine as soon as he’d woken up with words that chastised him as much as teased. And yet…

Zoro found the bottle of antibiotics you’d made for him. His hand snatched it off the top of the long shelf as he examined it. The note you’d left embedded in his palm clenched in the other. He could still recall how loud the shattering of the glass sounded when he launched it across the room. His chest lit up in fresh waves of pain, but he didn’t give a shit. The anger he felt was white hot and molten and underneath all of that fury was a grief he hadn’t felt since he was twelve.  

      Things you owe me once you wake up: 1. Find me 2. Save me 3. After you save me - Apologize  4. Apologize. Again 5. Groval

Who the hell did you think you were asking him to apologize? And to apologize after you decided to go with Arlong was the best option. It should’ve never been an option in the first place. Zoro wanted to throttle you. To grab you by your arms and shake you to try and understand what in the hell were you thinking? He wanted to find you and lock you inside your room to make sure you couldn’t make any more stupid decisions. He wanted to lock himself inside your room and make you apologize to him. 

He also wanted to write you off the way Nami wrote them off. To forget you both because his logic told him you’d both made your choice but…Zoro always knew you would do whatever it took to save those around you, even if it meant putting your own life at risk. 

It was idiotic. You were idiotic and while he could practically hear you chastising him about being cynical - that everyone deserved saving - it didn’t mean if it cost you your life. Being a good person wasn’t stacked up with how many times you risked your life for someone else. Sometimes, the hardest choices came from choosing yourself and the good you could still do for the world if you were in it. 

Not everyone was your responsibility to save. 

“Yes, we do!”

Luffy’s joyous shout thankfully saved Zoro from having to think about it anymore. His fingers let go of your note as his eyes opened up to see an incredibly unwelcome sight entering his captain’s ship. 

“Why are we bringing the waiter?”

“Because we can’t boil water.” 

Usopp’s answer didn’t help him feel any more at ease. A few moments later he called out that he was dropping the sail. 

Zoro removed himself from his spot and found his way over to the stairs. His body slowly made a climb that felt like his stitches were getting ripped open with every movement of his limbs. He was ready to set sail and to be away from this place.

Baratie turned out to be more of a pain in the ass than the food was worth. And now they were stuck with the waiter. 

Soon, the breeze from the ocean swept across the ship, and immediately Zoro felt more at ease. Whether it was because they were finally sailing or it was because it meant he was getting closer to finding you, Zoro would never be sure. Or admit to that last one even if it was true. 

He could hear Usopp’s feet as he dashed across the deck checking on the masts lines and hitches. He’d finished checking the one behind him next to the sheep’s head when he called out, “So, we’re going after Nami and Doc, but how are we going to find them?” 

“Yeah, we don’t even know where she is.”

It was a thought that plagued him the minute Luffy mentioned his plan. He didn’t want to be the one to burst his bubble that without coordinates they wouldn’t be going after anybody. Luffy didn’t seem the least bit phased as he smiled down at all of them. 

“I know someone who does.”

With those parting words, Luffy moved down the stairs and into the galley. Usopp moved past him and Zoro reached out to grab the railing to help him to his feet. He should’ve never sat down. Slowly he made his way into the galley where Luffy was waiting for them with a black bag centered on the table. 

Zoro’s hand skimmed along the large island to help hold him up, as he moved but stopped short as Luffy revealed what was inside the bag. 

“Hello, boys!”

Of course, it was the fucking clown. 

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As always, thank you so much for reading. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated.

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Im here to say that college!au opla!zoro is your most superior zoo version yet. Please share any more thoughts you have on this cute couple!!!! I love their dynamic so much

listen;;;;;; i love college!au opla!zoro so much. so…… because i am… unwell about this man, sfw and nsfw headcanons/snippets of college!au opla!zoro (most of this is based on the death before decaf fic where zoro is a fencer and reader is a physical therapy major):

sfw:

afternoon naps on the ratty old couch in the living room of his dorm; luffy is his roommate who is simultaneously never there but also randomly always there at the weirdest most inopportune moments

“what did you say he studies?” “uh… something about international policy but he got in on a sports scholarship too.” “yeah? what’s he do?” “gymnastics.” “wait — seriously?” “yeah he’s /weird/ flexible.”

sharing pizza at midnight, sitting in his lap as he scrolls through highlight reels of past olympic fencing bouts, his chin occasionally brushing against your shoulder as he explains all the different rules and moves; you can feel the light stubble, feel the deep rumble of his voice along your arm where it’s pressed against his chest

him kissing you awake, opening your eyes to find him smiling, smirking, more like — “morning…” “mornin’. you were drooling on my pillow.” “shut up!” “nah, it was cute.” more kissing, you trying to shove his face into the pillow, him easily pinning you beneath him, arching an eyebrow; you sigh, blushing, “it’s too early for this.” “it’s never too early for this.”

jerking apart when you both hear luffy’s voice shouting from the living room, “have fun you guys! i’m going to usopp’s to watch the game! don’t forget to hydrate and take breaks! oh — and i left guac for you guys in the fridge!”

“i thought he was gone!” “i thought so too —” zoro groaning when you hear the door slam, burying his face in your shoulder

study sessions where he’s just doing weight training in the corner and it takes everything you have not to be distracted by the shape of him, shirtless, powering through reps of bicep curls, when he drops to the ground for pushups, the way he grins when he catches you staring and asks if you want to help hold his feet down for situps

coffee runs in the morning, standing in line with his arm draped around your shoulders; nami grinning, “see? toldya making out would’ve solved things.”

pecks goodbye in front of the main lecture building, hearing the way the rest of the fencing team hoots after you turn away, hearing zoro loudly telling them to shut the fuck up if they don’t want their asses beat

him blushing up a storm when you wrap your scarf around him and scold him again for forgetting his own, saying that he needs to take better care of his body if he’s gonna make it to the olympics; him scoffing and looking away and, “well… i’ve got you to take care of it for me, don’t i?”

nsfw: (mdni beyond this point pls)

fucking the locker rooms post bout, his hand cushioned behind your head because say what you will about jock!zoro but he’s still something of a gentleman

netflix and chill saturday nights bc he doesn’t have practice sunday mornings and he’s not about to let all that time to go waste; leaving the tv on as he pulls you over his lap, fingers dancing up the sides of your waist, pressing you down over his cock, groaning when he fists his hands in your hair and pulls

drunk!fucking at frat parties in strangers bedrooms, bc who tf cares who this room belongs to as long as there’s a bed and a door that somewhat locks and sure, the sheets are gonna smell like sex after you’re finished but who’s gonna try and fuck with you when zoro’s always got an arm around you, when he’s got you tucked into his side whenever you’re together, even if it’s just studying at the library or sitting at lunch in the dining commons

the most jealous, possessive sex… bc. zoro doesn’t share.

making out in the stacks bc you said you were getting a reference book but you were gone a bit too long and zoro had come to “find you” only to find you trying to reach a book on a level that’s just a bit too high; him reaching up to pull it down for you, pressing a hand to your lower stomach and pulling you back against his chest, “need some help, princess?”

fumbling back to his dorm after said failed study session in the library, him kicking the door shut and tossing you on his bed, him mumbling some cheesy line about needing to brush up on his anatomy before pushing your knees up and burying his face between your thighs

Reblog if you've formed a meaningful relationship with someone you met online.

I'm so late for Chopper's birthday, i was so busy yesterday. Anyways, Happy Birthday to our baby Chopper. 🎂💙💙

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SON, CHOPPER

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