Ongoing Series - Tumblr Posts

Olive decided they need a plan of action before chasing a suspicious man (groan)

Admittedly this page was easier than the others due to the use of stick figures

Oops I totally forgot to post this, this was from a few days ago

I’m trying to keep up to schedule but it’s been a bit tough

Comic dump, here’s an orange

Piiiiiink

Blue!

And nasty green

Another dump, here’s purple

Yellow

And blue again

My handwriting sucks sorry

Also lore

Pink! Also magical girl transformation time yoooooo

I based her new outfit on some designs from witch hat atelier which made me very happy because I LOVE witch hat atelier

Oh gosh it’s another dump

Oh gosh

Yellooowwww

Mysterious purple!

And the color I have looked forward to using most, red

I still have so much more to go for these and I’m supposed to be almost done, thanks work schedule and Memorial Day

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 9

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 Fem!Reader

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

Words: 22.8k

A/N:  Man. This chapter has been a long time coming. It feels bittersweet to be posting it. While I know it is not truly the end of Zoro and Doc’s story (there are still chapter 10 & 11 to write and a one-shot. Not to mention season 2) it still feels like this has some finality to it. It was unexpected how much I grew to love OPLA even more through writing these characters and introducing Doc. This chapter is incredibly dark at times, so please be warned, but I promise chapter 10 is the tiddy chapter and will not be so heavy. And as always: Thank You. To every single one of you who continues to wait. Who loves this story and these characters as much as I do. For always being so kind and loving my story the way you all do. I hope you all continue to enjoy it. Here’s to many more adventures together 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

Warnings: mentions of torture, intense violence, blood, use of OPLA dialogue, swearing 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Previous

He felt sick. 

The sickness festered and rotted under his skin until it threatened to take hold of him and send him in a blind rage searching for any trace of you. Every minute Zoro knew you weren’t next to him meant you were somewhere you shouldn’t be - somewhere you never should have been. 

He’d been outside meditating in the spot you’d found him in when you’d first come thrashing through the tangerine grove. This time, at the sound of feet slamming frantically into the dirt, it wasn’t you who Luffy found on their knees crying out with hatred. Screaming the name of a fishman who’d held you captive, tried to break your spirit, and failed. 

It was bad enough imagining the things he’d done to you. Seeing what Arlong had done. After you shared what you’d learned from Nami…Zoro wanted to gut the fucking fish himself. His hands shook with the desire to cut him from throat to navel. To claim his bounty in pieces. 

If Nami was here that meant she couldn’t be meeting you. It meant the information you’d told him as you’d cleaned his stitches and put on a clean dressing was pointless. 

Fucking pointless. 

Nami was here and you weren’t, which meant you could only be in one other place.

The muffled sound of voices rose up in a chorus around the table. The high pitch that signified Nami had resumed talking; her octave rising higher to signify she thought no one was listening. It would be true for him. Ever since his eyes caught sight of the explosion of flames that licked up towards the night a weightless panic gripped him. 

For the first time in his life, Zoro knew what it meant to be infected with the sickness of fear. He’d witness it drain the color from the faces of the pirates he hunted. The way it flashed across their eyes the same way the cool steel of his swords drew across their vision. 

Fear was a concept Zoro wasn’t accustomed to. Even when he lost repeatedly in the dojo to Kuina, it wasn’t fear that drove him, but anger. Determination to prove himself. 

“You really don’t fear death, do you?”

“No. I just don’t fear you.”

Zoro didn’t fear death or, at least, he hadn’t before. It wasn’t until he saw you standing at the edge of the ramp to the Merry that he felt uncertainty creep in his chest. Zoro didn’t fear death, but he feared not knowing what living with you by his side felt like; wrapped up in every moment. Laying on that dock, he’d been overcome with emotions. Zoro had failed not only for himself but also for Kuina. The knowledge of that failure sparked a determination so vicious to do better -be better - that he needed Luffy to hear the vow that he wouldn’t fail. 

Not again. Not ever. 

Silently, Zoro made another promise. He wouldn’t fail again - couldn’t fail again. Not when he could lose you, because the last memory Zoro held of you before his vision was swept up into darkness was your collapsed body on the dock. The fire in your eyes that he loves so much was replaced with something broken. Something he gave you. 

Zoro didn’t know fear until the day he went to sleep without ever knowing if he’d wake up to see you again. He didn’t know fear until he woke up to find you were gone from the Merry, and Zoro didn’t know that paralyzing type of fear until he watched you disappear behind a grove of tangerines. 

His body was sick with fear and the only way Zoro knew how to combat it was to turn it into unrestrained violence. 

His muscles - his very heart - filled with a tumultuous rage that felt like a borderline sickness. Zoro’s hand was clenched tightly around the Wado Ichimonji in hopes it would keep him grounded. That it would somehow be enough to keep him from running out of Nojiko’s front door to Coco Village and getting his hands on the first fishman he could find. 

A fishman’s skin was known to be tougher than bullets. Zoro was tougher than lead and stronger than a trigger releasing on a gun. He’d honed his body - hell his teeth - to withstand hundreds of pounds and keep the Wado held tightly in his jaws. 

The skin of a fishman didn’t stand a chance against the wrath of a demon.  

The sounds of an active slaughter rose up around them. The screams from the villagers were deafening, but all Zoro could hear was the turbulent thoughts that thrashed around in his head. 

He should’ve forced you to stay. He should’ve grabbed you and thrown you over his shoulder and taken you back to the Merry or tied you up to wait inside the hut. He should’ve tried to coax you into staying with his mouth reclaiming yours to remind you who you belonged to. 

The world was made up of so many should haves and yet, in the end, none of them mattered. In the end, Zoro was back inside Nojiko’s hut, his hands splayed out against the table they’d just had their dinner served on, while Nami drew out a plan. 

Zoro was fucking sick of plans.

He wasn’t aware that he’d grabbed the Wado Ichimonji off the table. He didn’t know he was moving towards the entrance of Nojiko’s home until he felt a light hand on his shoulder to stop him. Zoro didn’t need to look to know whose hand was stopping him - keeping him from moving forward. His body did it on reflex, as his jaw ground his teeth so tightly together, he was sure they were going to crack.  

Zoro wasn’t surprised to find Luffy there. His own eyes darkened with fury, but it wasn’t real. Not like the brimstone that gnashed its hellish teeth from the rage that broiled under his skin. It grew until the flames consumed him as they rose up higher inside him. Zoro could see under all that stoic optimism Luffy fought to keep that he was terrified of what they would find. 

“It’s almost dawn,” Luffy’s words were laced with caution. The kind used to defuse bombs or attempt to neutralize wild animals just before they attacked. “The minute the sun breaches over that sky, I swear to you, we will go get her.”

Zoro knew Luffy meant it and, in this moment, Zoro never appreciated Luffy more. Luffy could see that he was drowning - struggling to stay sane - and he tried to give Zoro a raft of hope to grasp. 

The only thing that would make him feel better was your body tucked safely against his. 

While he may have been filled with trepidation, Luffy wasn’t going to let it stop him from pressing forward. You were a part of his crew. Luffy wouldn’t abandon you, but Zoro knew the longer that you were left alone inside that compound the chances of them finding you alive, and not a body, was narrowing down closer to zero than he’d like to think about. 

“She doesn’t have that long.”

He hated how his voice broke at the end. What he hated more? All that unadulterated rage that was brewing inside him was leaking out. It made his body shake and eyes blur and he knew that if he walked into Arlong Park and found you more bruised, more…more broken than when you left him - not even the gods themselves would survive. 

“Arlong won’t kill her,” Nami spoke up. Her voice was a whisper that carried like a scream in the quiet of the hut. “She’s meant to be a warning…and a punishment.” 

“A punishment for who?”

“For me.”

Zoro knew his gaze wasn’t the friendliest. He knew that looking at Nami - all that hatred he felt for the fishmen was displayed on his face and directed solely at her. She didn’t waiver from his gaze, but accepted it, and Zoro wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. He got his answer when those two words collided in his chest and tore through. 

Nami was broken. 

She blamed herself for the predicament you were in. While Zoro wanted to agree and to let all the fury out on her but, realistically, it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t Luffy’s or anyone’s. You came here to save Luffy - to save Nami - in your own way. 

Maybe it was his fault. Only a few hours ago you’d been here with him inside Nojiko’s hut. His body stood in the exact place he’d finally silenced all his doubts, every racing thought, by chasing the calm of your lips. 

He could still feel your touch on his chest like a vengeful ghost. Your eyes staring up at him and lost to the current of your own thoughts. It reminded him of his own and all it took was for one moment - one second - to decide to place his lips against yours for everything to make sense. 

All the thoughts, dreams, and promises had all been stripped away. The only thing left in that moment was him and you and the feeling of calm that washed over him. A new wave he’d never experienced rolled through him and it was one he’d only heard of. Never did he dream he would experience it - want to - and yet he knew what it was once the calmness ceased and a fire burned hot in his belly. 

Passion. 

He’d heard how it consumed men and women and made them slaves to their most carnal desires. It slithered inside until it constricted all reason until the only thing left was to answer. There was no more denying that you were his desire. The consuming flame that slithered and constricted his veins until the only call he heard - the only one he wanted to answer - was you. 

The minute he’d claimed your lips as his, Zoro knew he wanted nothing else - no one else - for the rest of his life. You were just as much a part of his purpose as his life-long dream to be the greatest swordsman who ever lived. 

How could it be that he’d experienced his first real kiss only for the possibility of it being his last? Zoro would be damned if that would happen. He should’ve kissed you again. He should’ve thrown that fucking clown outside and resumed where he’d interrupted but this time picking you up to seat you on the table. Zoro wanted to feel your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in closer, while his hand worked its way back into your hair and your hip.

Maybe if he’d done that, you’d be inside the hut. You’d be here after Luffy found Nami colliding into the dirt. 

“He’s not hurting her, is he?”

Zoro’s gaze flew to look in the corner where Usopp had taken up residence. His arms rested on his legs as he stared down into the floorboards. It’s where he’d shut down and refused to look up from the hole his eyes were digging into the floor. No one was willing to comment on the silent tears that dotted the old wood. 

“That can’t be a serious question, mate.”

Even though the waiter’s tone was gentle it wasn’t hard to miss the disbelief.

“And what if it is?” Usopp challenged. “We all saw how she looked the last time we saw her and now she’s back there. Alone. It isn’t too much to hope that they’re just holding here there. Maybe tied up somewhere-“

“That isn’t how Arlong does things,” Nami cut in.

“You don’t know that!”

“Oh, I don’t?” Nami shot back. Her body now removed and standing from where she’d been sitting. “I know Arlong better than any of you. I know exactly what he is capable of, and I can promise you he doesn’t do simple.”

“Then why aren’t we going now?” Usopp practically shouted, his eyes wide with bewilderment. 

“That’s what I’ve been wondering this whole time,” Zoro mumbled. 

“I’ve told you both already, it is too risky for the villagers. All it takes is for one of his men to get back to him that we interrupted them, and they are all as good as dead. And so is she.” 

Zoro’s hand flexed around the Wado as the last of Nami’s words sunk in. The silence hung heavy and draped the room once more with the unmistakable feeling of dread. The unknown in these next final hours was too much to bear. 

“I think it’s a risk we have to take.”

“Usopp,” Nami started with a groan. 

Her arms dropped from where she’d held them crossed against her chest.

“No!” 

Zoro never heard Usopp shout. At least, not when it wasn’t out of fear but this…was raw emotion. It’d launched him out of his corner and back into the room completing the small circle of bodies. No longer did he try to hide the tears he’d shed or the desperation in his voice. 

“Doc is my best friend-“

“She’s our friend too, Usopp,” Luffy attempted to defuse him, but it only seemed to make it worse.

“No. You’ve known her for a few weeks. I’ve known her all my life. She was there for me while my mom was sick - helped Naan care for her. Doc looked after me when she passed and didn’t make me feel bad for ringing that stupid bell every damn day expecting my dad to come back.” Zoro looked away when fresh tears broke free. “Doc has been through enough shit since she was little. I should be there to protect her right now.”

The words were barely audible as they began to break and as his words broke, so did Usopp. A hand ran across his face to either mask a sob or cleanse him of whatever guilt that gripped him. 

“It was a mistake to have her come. When we get her back, we should take her back to Syrup village.”

“No.”

That one word fell like a stone inside a well. It directed all eyes back to him, but Zoro didn’t care. A fresh wave of rage hit him at the idea of sending you back to your village because it was safe. You were safer with him than alone in some village. 

“You don’t get to decide that. Especially you,” came Usopp’s curt reply. 

“Last time I checked you don’t get to decide that for her, either.”

Zoro didn’t think the waiter should have an overall say in this either, but he knew Sanji wasn’t wrong. It was ultimately Doc’s decision on if you stayed or went back to the village. If you wanted to stay with him. 

“You guys know nothing about her and suddenly you’re acting like she’s a vital part of the crew!”

“She is a vital part of this crew,” Luffy snapped. He regarded Usopp with a softness that hardened as he spoke. “Doc has dreams of her own. Dreams that outgrew Syrup village a long time ago. Our crew - my crew - wouldn’t be complete without her. She’s family.”

“We are her family, Usopp,” Nami began, “and she’s proven that she believes that too. I may not have had her my whole life, but Doc is the best friend I never thought I’d get to have. You aren’t the only one hurting.”

If any of them turned to look in his direction, Zoro was going to bolt. The last time he’d had a drink felt like ages ago back on the Going Merry, which meant he wasn’t drunk enough to be having this heart-to-heart with everyone. 

“Right. I’ll be outside.”

“Zoro-“

He was tempted to keep walking and pretend he hadn’t heard her say his name. It was the best plan to keep his sanity. So, when he turned around to look at her he breathed a quiet, ”fuck,” into the air. 

The minute Zoro locked eyes with Nami he already knew without her speaking what she was silently pleading with him not to do. She was terrified he would go off on his own to find you. He knew the score and knew from talking to Nami that it wasn’t just your life at stake. An entire village that had been terrorized for a decade was threatened with the possibility of death if they fucked this up. 

Zoro was a lot of things but heartless wasn’t one of them. 

His jaw ticked as he considered telling her she didn’t have to worry. He would be right outside waiting - watching - for the first signs of dawn to peak across the sky. Instead, he gave her a small nod of understanding before he turned to finish his descent out of the hut and to the safety of outside. 

While he did want to go rushing to your rescue, Zoro knew if you found out villagers died because of his actions, because he wanted to save you, you would never forgive him. So, Zoro would meditate and wait for the break of dawn to crest over the trees before he allowed the drums of war to march him forward. 

The sound of the screams from the village was something you knew would forever carve itself into your memory. Every rising shout, a cry for mercy, would haunt the halls of your mind like an old house. Every creak, groan, and slam promised to remind you of this very moment. The fury behind every agonizing wail of someone losing their home, a loved one - a child - of watching their lives go up in blood and smoke hammered curses so deafening you thought your eardrums might shatter. 

You imagined if they could see you tied up and paying your penance, you were sure the villagers would spit on you the same way they did Nami. Nami, who only wanted to help the only way she knew how. 

And you. 

If they could curse you, you knew they would. Fear did that to people. Just like the villagers in your own village viewed you. 

Syrup Village had never been your home. The only reason you’d considered it a place to think of that way was only because Naan was there. And Usopp. You’d known for years that none of the villagers trusted you. You could still hear the first trace of whispers, the judgemental eyes as your tiny hand grasped onto Naan’s tighter. Afraid the current of their hatred would flush you back down into the very sea they claimed you belonged.  

The way Mr. Cawes left Naan’s order of fresh baked bread and flour outside the store. Linens from Miss Sotaw’s shop was placed in a basket in the alley by her back door. Every time they knew it was you who came to gather Naan’s goods, you were never allowed inside. 

A bad omen. A Filthy curse. 

“You did this to us!” 

“I knew you were a blight - a stain that should’ve been removed.”

“You came and ruined us! Now we’re all dead. Dead! DEAD!”

“Murderer!”

“Doom bringer,” the tiny voice inside your head called you.

Those same people who treated you like a plague in their existence were the same ones who showed up begging for your help. Who came in the middle of the night pleading for you to follow them home. 

“Please my wife- “

“My children- “

“My grandfather hasn’t been able to eat.”

Each time they came to the small hut at the edge of town placed on the cliff by the ocean, buried behind the trees, you expected kindness. That you would walk into town and not find harsh glances and turned backs in greeting. You’d thought after everything you’d at least get acceptance. You helped them and they repaid you by treating you the same. 

And yet, you still helped. Believing if you did enough - were enough - they would finally see you the way Naan always claimed she saw you. 

“We can’t allow the ugly in others to diminish the good in us.”

Good. That’s what Naan called it. Goodness of the soul. The character of a person. She so firmly believed your soul was good…but even you noticed on days when you told her about the voices - shared in your imaginary friends - the cold dread that rid her face of warmth. 

No matter how much you wanted to believe her, you knew there was something about you that was different. Whatever it was, you knew it caused problems and those problems, like now, what happened in Coco Village, were all your fault. 

Because it was your fault, wasn’t it? If only you listened to Nami when she’d warned you. If only you’d listened to Zoro when he didn’t feel right and told you going back wasn’t safe. You barreled forward, not questioning why they gave that warning. You were too focused on finding normalcy in helping to take a step back. Now, the only reward you received for your kindness - your stubbornness- was pain. 

Pain for yourself. Pain, you brought down on others. 

The deafening echoes of black powder being released in explosions of sparks and deadly quicksilver jerked you out of your thoughts. You wondered how many of those bullets found homes inside fleeing backs. 

Arlong had his men string you up facing the entrance into Arlong Park just a few feet in front of Arlong’s makeshift throne. The tips of your boots barely reached the wooden walkway underneath you to try and keep your arms from completely tearing at the muscles. Your view of the pool and carnival games felt ridiculous now; a matching gross joke to match the body of the clown they’d pinned up with knives inside the milk toss game. 

Arlong was slowly creating a carnival of bodies. 

You were meant to be a sickening ornament to his crew when they returned from destroying Coco Village and any unsuspecting visitors who might try and show up. And one you were dreading to see. You were a reminder of the fishmen superiority Arlong so boldly claimed. One that proved humans were the weaker species, and showed just how beneath them you truly were. 

The first few hours the pull of the metal chain cutting into the skin of your wrists was unbearable. You’d tried to remain stoic, because you refused to give Arlong the satisfaction of seeing you whimper and cower. You didn’t want him to take what ounce of fight was left inside you, but slowly as the hours passed, and the cries from the villagers rose higher with the flames, you felt the first crack begin. 

Your fingers attempted to curl into your palms, but you were swiftly reminded of the pinching steel that engraved itself violently into your wrists. For the hundredth time, you tried pulling your arms back in towards your sides and believed that you would magically have the strength to rip the pillars apart like the Greek gods you’d read about in Naan’s old library. She told you that the book, like many others you found over the years, were silly stories not meant to be read. You wanted to ask her why she kept them then.

If you could suddenly have strength like Hercules, you could’ve torn this place apart. The pillars would fold in like torn butterfly wings and once they were gone, the chains that held your arms open and left you exposed would be no more. You’d be free, leaving you to run to the village and do what? 

What could you possibly do to help them? 

You did this. All you wanted was to help. Instead, you’d sent a whole village to its damnation. And what was your penance? All night the tides of your guilt grew higher with each sound of tearing and breaking of homes being ripped apart frame by frame.

Gods, their screams were endless. Their terror was ruthlessly carried on the wind; each breeze making your stomach curl and bile to rise in your throat. You knew there were pleas in those cries. Someone begging for their loved one to be spared only to be met with violence. Horrors that, if it didn’t kill them, would hollow out their souls until the only thing left was a shell. 

You did this to them. 

Nami warned you. Told you countless times that it wasn’t safe, but you didn’t want to listen. You’d been arrogant in thinking you wouldn’t get caught. She’d warned you. 

“People will do anything when they are starving.”

You’d wanted to help Nazifa and her family and now you’d doomed them. You’d doomed the whole damn village because you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to show kindness. To prove you weren't a monster. To hope that they wouldn’t see you the way your own village had. 

Another wail broke through the gunfire and rose up with blackening smoke into the midnight blue of the sky. A canvas of flame licked across that darkness, and you knew they’d finally set the whole village to burn. 

“Do you hear that,” Arlong asked from behind you, your name tinged like the shit end of a bad joke. “All that death and dying? Make sure you get a good listen and mark it to memory: you caused this. You and Nami.” 

“Fuck off,” you seethed, bloody spittle dripping from your bottom lip. 

Your sharp tongue was rewarded with him grabbing the stick he’d started using hours ago and slammed it home against your ribs. The way the pain blossomed into every nerve was immediate. The air in your lungs twisted, trapped inside, until it released in a scream of your own. The expansion of your diaphragm and the sharp electric burst of agony that came with trying to breath told you Arlong broke something. 

You tried to take shallow breaths. Your mind struggled to work around assessing your own wounds - how many ribs and where the possible break was - over the sound of Arlong’s incoming rant. 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me that way.”

“Don’t like the tone of my voice?” Your question was loaded. The both of you knew it. “Stop talking to me like I give a shit.”

You knew the next hit was coming. It was obvious in the way his hand tightened and released on the wood. The way his eyes exploded with a spark of sheer hatred. The smirk that bared teeth before his body lurched forward. You braced your body for the next blow, but Arlong changed course last minute. The wood slammed into the left side of your face with such force you heard the wood splinter. A piece of the board flew over your head in pieces. It almost felt like you were trying to follow it, the way your neck snapped to your right. 

The blood leaking from between your lips was immediate. It rushed like a river and if you were able to move anything past the shockwave that resonated inside your skull you would’ve looked to see if a tooth was knocked loose. If the day-old cut in your cheek was ripped open to mingle with fresh wounds. 

The blood was immediate and so was the swelling. Already your left eyes and cheek were bruising - swelling to try and stem the tide of any further internal damage Arlong no doubt caused. 

The radius positioned under the thumb. Ulna to the little finger. Eight carpal bones make up the wrist…

Over the last few hours, whenever Arlong, Chew, or your new bodyguard, Murtogh, came into view your mind hardened itself to prepare for what was to come. You’d learned Chew preferred fire and Murtogh liked blades. Chew specifically enjoyed heating up objects and pressing them into the tender flesh that was your stomach. His laughter sent you into sensory overload as your skin sizzled and melted under the heat of the lastest objects - cigars. 

You wish you were stronger. A part of you wished you didn’t cry out or feel your body struggle uselessly against the chains to get away. You wanted to have more rage in your thrashing - threatening to break free and break their bones the way they broke yours. Maim them the way they so lovingly maimed you. The only safety you could find from the torture was going over the bones of the body. The steps to suture wounds. The items necessary to make herbal remedies and antidotes for poisons and illness. 

Grind it down in the mortar to make it more potent. Add lycan moss until it forms a paste…

It didn’t matter if it was to cure fungal infections, gangrene, or headaches. You named off the components inside certain mushrooms and the specifics of what made them deadly. You went back to memorizing the hand bones that lead down back to the wrist. The bones that felt like they were breaking with each tug and pull your body involuntarily made in a useless effort to flee when one of them came grinning towards you. You couldn’t fling yourself back anymore. Not since Murtogh carved into the meat at the back of your caves, just below the knees.

So when Arlong rose up from his makeshift throne and came towards your broken body, now hanging limp and broken, your brain immediately began to say the name of every plant that could be found at Irkhaven. You tried to focus, but soon you found yourself counting the number of steps it took Arlong to reach you before his finned hands grabbed ahold of your hair and pulled your gaze up. It took you a moment to look past the blood that had dripped inside the swollen lids. 

“Ah, can you hear that, Doc?” He used his hand to amplify the sound you couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it made his stomach-churning smile ever wider. “The boys are almost here with our newest guest.”

Oh, gods. How could you have forgotten? 

It’d felt like an eternity inside these walls - your personal hell. Your mind shifted somewhere else to keep you from completely breaking, but at his words everything slammed back to reality. 

Nazifa. 

As if remembering her was enough to conjure her, the sound of a screaming child grew closer behind the wall. It was all you needed to renew the struggle to break free. You couldn’t let them harm her; hurt her in any way. Your heart slammed with such force against your ribs your legs gave out from underneath you. The tips of your toes struggling to find ground as the cuts Murtogh had given you expanded every time you attempted to straighten your legs. 

“Let me gooo! Please. Let me go!”

Every choked word that screamed around a sob felt like it held you underwater. Suffocating you in your own growing panic as you thrashed helplessly in your chains. Arlong’s laugh was guttural and made your body grow still as he came up beside you.

“So, there is still a little fight left in you after all.”

“You have me, Arlong. You don’t need the girl. She’s innocent!”

You didn’t care how raw your voice was with desperation. The way unspoken words settled like still water in your lungs - calm, waiting to rush free at the slightest ripple. You were willing to give blood - sell your soul - whatever it would take to keep the devil away from her. 

“Now, where would be the fun in that? Nah, the way I see it-“he moved to stand in front of you. His face the only thing that took up residence in front of you - smiling as Nazifa screamed. “She owes me the same amount of blood as you do.”

All your life you’d heard about hatred that burrowed inside the hearts of every man - every creature - on earth. How the flames their rage stoked rose higher and higher until it consumed villages and the people within. How their hatred was used like righteous fire to burn out the existence of anyone in their way. You’d heard stories about hatred that changed lives. Ruined them. Changed them. Naan had always been so careful with you in keeping those thoughts at bay - fighting them with every fiber of your being. 

“Hatred is a baptism in pain, child. One I pray you never experience. One that changes a good heart to something else. Something deadly - not even love can cure.”

What did Naan know? She never knew the torture you went through with the children in the village. The many ways they reminded you of how unwelcomed the sight of you being alive was to their vision. The way the adults sneered at you: an unholy omen of misfortune dropped on their island built on the fortune of others. There were many times when your own pain could’ve created a seven-layer inferno of hatred all on its own. 

But while the horrors of the world still persisted, so did the goodness that lived inside of you. 

The drive to heal. To save those like yourself. Those who felt unworthy of being saved. For the first time in your life, you felt the rage of your own hatred rise like a phoenix in your chest and did nothing to stop it from consuming you. 

         let us in 

                         we can’t help

 if you deny us 

                   we only 

                                  want to help 

                                                       free us

                                 free yourself

All your life Naan told you not to listen. When the darkness came, she begged you to ignore it. 

“Shove it down. Keep it away. Don’t let it corrupt the good in you.”

But you haven’t seen what I’ve seen, you wanted to tell her. The words of disdain that dipped your tongue with poison and threatened to kill dynasties if your lips ever parted. You haven’t witnessed what these men have done. 

“All hatred is born out of fear.”

You could hear the ghost of a reply in the back of your mind. The same one she’d told you many times when you’d come inside crying as a child. A child’s mind was unable to understand how anyone could put their prejudice on a child. You could practically feel the warmth of her arms enveloping you - inviting - to give the comfort you craved. 

The darkness that crept in quickly pushed back against your attempt to satiate it once more with calmness and warmth. It was done being suppressed, and you were tired of pretending that the darkness inside you wasn’t a part of who you are. 

Arlong must have noticed a change. The way animals sense an impending threat. A predator they weren’t aware of closing in before they could prepare. A small piece of you rejoiced as the uncertainty began to steal the sadistic gleam that had been in his eyes. The brightness dimmed just enough for you to see yourself - bloodied and swollen - inside the obsidian of his eyes. You were met with a reflection of yourself; a mirror that saw the white of your good eye completely consumed with a darkness that bled like spilled black ink on paper. It continued to branch out around your eyes, stopping shy at the tops of your cheeks. 

You didn’t have enough time to think about what you saw. If brain damage was another issue to add to the ever-growing list of things to worry about. The sound of the gates of Arlong Park opening careened your neck to try and look around Arlong’s shoulder. 

Kuroobi held Nazifa tightly by the back of the neck and used it to direct her where he wanted. Her small hands didn’t stop their weak attempt to scratch at him - to cause him some sort of discomfort that would make him release her. Tiny rivers had created shapes in the dirt on face, matching the sobbing pleas that eclipsed her lips in tight shrieks. You thought maybe she’d fallen in mud or Kuroobi had thrown her in some. It wasn’t until she got closer you realized it wasn’t grime that dirtied up her face and streaked her clothes, but ash. 

Nazifa was covered in the destruction of her home. 

Arlong clicked his tongue and Kuroobi and Nazifa’s journey ended at the edge of the pool. A fresh wave of dread clawed itself inside your belly. Sharp and brutal and felt with every breath. Every breath that thundered your racing pulse in your ears. You didn’t need to watch to know what would come next, but your body reacted all the same as Kuroobi’s hand wrapped violently on the nap of Nazifa’s neck and hoisted her over the edge of the pool. 

Her scream housed more than just a simple room of fear. It was built around halls of terror that led to rooms that fueled the nightmares of imagination and ate away at hope. The ‘what if’s’ of unending questions that centered solely on what the last thing she said to her father was, or if she’d die for Arlong’s amusement inside his joyless circus. Nazifa’s voice raised higher and higher until it started to break. The sounds of her tiny feet pounding and sliding against Kuroobi’s solid form as they swung out wildly, as if it would be enough for him to release her. 

It was instinct that craned your neck in her direction. Instinct that brewed a fresh wave of adrenaline that forced you back onto the pads of your knees with your legs struggling to help you stand. The closer Kuroobi brought her to the edge of the pool, the more her scream turned into panicked shrieks. It sent your heart pounding against your chest, wild and raw. 

Let her go! Your mind raged. Your own thoughts turned to the sickening idea they were already hurting her. 

“Leave…leave-her…leave her alone.”

Each word struggled to work its way up your throat - passed bloody and swollen lips. The chains at your wrists bit into your skin as you fought against your chains to see them coming up on your right side. The minute Nazifa’s eyes found you her screams became inconsolable. 

One look at you sent her backpedaling into Kuroobi’s arms, as if she could ask him for safety. You considered it had to be how you looked. Broken. Bloodied with swollen wounds and open cuts. Fresh burns along your back that had married skin to cloth. 

But that wasn’t it. You remembered the way your one good eye blossomed obsidian in the iris of Arlong’s. A simple glance down your arms and to the hands that gripped your chains let you watch as your fingers, and part of your hand, ripen like rotted fruit. The chains sizzled against your skin with smoke noticeably rising from where they touched. Your own scream barreled like a pulled trigger from a musket up from your chest and blasted with violence into the encroaching darkness. The sound steeped in madness that changed to manic laughter. 

This can’t be real. 

Every hushed whisper you’d heard since you were a child. All the looks of hatred that painted over their fear as they looked at you. Every beating and fight that Usopp and you had been in. Every rock you counted as it was thrown - the saltwater that was forced down your throat - all of it no longer seemed warranted, when Naan told you their fear wasn’t. 

“Fear of the unknown makes folks foolish. Blind to the truth in front of them.” 

And what was that truth now? You wanted to scream. What truth was looking at you now as you listened to the rising panic of Nazifa’s screams. The murmurs and uneasy glances of the fishmen looking between them and their leader for answers. 

Leader. Make believe king. Another man who wished to play God.

Your head whipped with a snarl towards the self-proclaimed King of Nothing. His own teeth bared at another predator he didn’t see coming. You wanted to tear Arlong apart. Ask what he’d done to you, but you knew, deep down, this wasn’t the cause of anyone else. This has been inside of you all your life. This darkness. This…madness. The same darkness Naan begged you to discard and ignore all your life; your childish mind thinking she meant hatred. 

But there was more than hatred that boiled beneath your skin, and you’d let it in like a fool. 

The chains were beginning too lax. It would only take one hard pull and, you were positive, they would completely fall. You would be free. Arlong must have realized this possibility too. Underneath all the rage and loathing was something you knew he would refuse to name. Something that grew from the corpse of fear and blossomed into something more devastating: terror. 

The thought of Arlong cowering was enough for a smile to crack through the laughter. The hysterics of it rose around the both of you, sealing him in and forcing him to focus on the madness in the obsidian of your eye as you took the melting metal in your hand and pulled. The snapping of the first chain was enough to bring Arlong out of wherever his thoughts had taken him. 

“Let Nazifa go. Now!”

“Monster!” Arlong snapped, spittle flying from his lips. “You think you can make demands of me?” 

Arlong made a few clicks with his tongue and Kuroobi’s body responded to whatever code he’d given him. You watched in horror over his shoulder as Kuroobi lifted Nazifa back up by her neck and dunked her down inside the pool. 

“Noooooooo!”

The word came from deep in your belly - a scream of your own terror - that rattled your bones. The chains screamed as you found your footing, legs no longer weak, as you tried to push forward. The sound of wood beginning to bend, and crack floated in the background as another scream rolled through you. 

He wasn’t letting her up. Kuroobi wasn’t bringing her back to the surface to get air. To let her breathe. You watched helplessly as her small hands barely broke the surface. The way they struggled to hit at his arm - yanking, swatting - in hopes he would let her go. Let her breathe. 

“Nazifa!”

You screamed her name and took another step. You would pull your arms from your sockets if it meant you could save her. If you could just get to her and hold her up and clear the water that was smothering her lungs and stealing her breath. You took another step forward, but your bare feet slipped in blood that hadn’t yet dried. You weren’t prepared for the loss of traction and found yourself scurrying to try and stay on your feet. You had to keep pushing. Keep moving. It didn’t matter that it felt like you were tearing yourself apart. Those wounds were opening, and you repeatedly kept slamming your knees into the cement as you fell. 

Nothing mattered except saving Nazifa. 

Another scream came from you but this time it came from somewhere deep within. Somewhere fractured and desperate that shook the very core of who you were, and as it rose like a sickening chorus from your lips you swore you felt the very foundation of Arlong Park begin to break with you. 

You weren’t imagining it when the ground waved unevenly under their feet. Under yours. Whatever trance he’d been in was shattered, and it was enough to spring Arlong into action. Quickly, he closed the distance between him and the closest fishman in three large strides. His hand reached out to take the dagger from the fishman’s belt.

You weren’t surprised with what followed after. How fast he returned to stand over you in his one last chance to dominate you before he lost all control. When Arlong made his way back to you - teeth bared and arm thrusting forward - the dagger found a home in your side long before Arlong himself ever reached you. 

You’d treated plenty of cuts and knicks inside the safety of Naan’s home. Burns from stoves and road rash on the arms and backs of farmers whose horses had decided they’d had enough. It was the pirates who came to Naan’s door that carried the more lethal wounds with them. Deep cuts on thighs that required hundreds of stitches. Gangrene in wounds that ended with you having to help hold down the patient as Naan amputated feet, legs, or arms. You’d dug bullets from shoulders and mended broken bones. The few stab wounds you’d helped Naan with rarely ended well. 

You could remember the first time you saw the wounds pressed into the gut of the captain of The Hellbound. The howls of pain that filled the cabin as his hands scrambled to grab ahold of anyone - anything - as his body spasmed in pain. The way the blood flowed in a steady stream onto the basement table. He made such a fuss, you thought he must have been exaggerating. 

You knew now as the blade slid through your skin and into meat and sinew, that captain should’ve screamed louder. 

You watched as Arlong didn’t stop pushing until the blade disappeared completely inside your body. If you could’ve, you were sure he would’ve buried the handle inside with the blade and pushed it through to the other side. The adrenaline in your body kept you from feeling most of it - the shock. It couldn’t keep the blood from filling your throat forcing you to cough it up with strings of it falling to your chin. 

It sliced something important. 

The last thing you wanted to do was show your surprise. To show anything. But after the shock wore off, and the adrenaline and whatever it was that overtook you, the only thing left was the disbelief. 

Your eyes glanced up from his hand to his face and found his smile waiting to greet you. He leaned in as another soft cough brought up more blood and inhaled. 

“Monster,” Arlong whispered in your ear. “I’ll go down in history not only as King of the Pirates, but also as a monster slayer. I’ll preserve your head to decorate the front of my ship.”

Monster. It’s what he’d called you. It was all you could focus on. You couldn’t even be grateful he didn’t remove the dagger. Arlong leaving it in was the best thing he could’ve done for you to prolong your life just a little longer. Long enough for you to try again to save Nazifa. Long enough for you to regain what strength you could to make sure you got the chance.

Somewhere between your attempted escape and Arlong embedding the blade in your gut, Kuroobi took Nazifa out of the pool. He’d set her small body down beside a carnival game where they locked a chain around her ankle. Not that she could move. Not that she could try. She was barely taking small breaths as she vomited up water. 

Another cough. Another fresh taste of chopper against your tongue. 

Monster is what Arlong called you. Freak. Sea Witch. Monster. You’d heard it all your life and, for once, maybe they were right. You were willing to be the monster one last time if it meant you could save Nazifa. You were willing to be the monster one last time if it meant you got to tell him goodbye. 

Dawn arrived. 

Zoro watched as the rays of cherry blossom pink and fire orange chased the last blanket of night away. He thought watching the sunrise seated where he was on the roof would be enough to raise hope in his chest. Instead, apprehension dug into the marrow of his bones until his muscles grew stiff. Until every member of the crew had descended from inside Nojiko’s hut to start the long trek back towards the village. 

Zoro didn’t want to see - to know - what had been done there. It was easier to imagine - to not have to bear witness - to travesties that happened to others. It’s how he liked it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Zoro could recall a time when it was just him murdering and maiming his way through the East Blue bounties. 

It’d been so simple.  

Garner information on his next kill. Locate said kill. Kill said kill. Retrieve the bounty for the head in the sack and move on to the next. Keep his head down. Keep moving. Be oblivious to the world around him. It had all been so simple. But it hadn’t been living. 

Zoro realized that now as he walked with the small ragtag group Luffy collected. Zoro had been alone for so long, he forgot what looking up - noticing - the world around him was like. What it was like to have friends. To have dreams. To admit to wanting more than a life of solitude and blood. To see the world in an explosion of color and possibilities the minute you’d exploded into his world with a hand on his chest and a boot to his bedroom door. 

With each step closing in to the smoke that still rose from charred homes it felt like he was walking towards a nightmare of his own making. A knowledge that could no longer be ignored. The people here were held violently under the boot of someone who enjoyed having that power over the villagers. A fishman who stripped them of their dignity, their home, and hope. 

Arlong had destroyed countless lives for his enjoyment and as their small group came around the once whole fence into the grove of the village, Zoro realized he would do whatever it took to free these people. 

The huts - no matter how dilapidated they’d been before - that had housed families with their thatched roofs were gone. The violence of the night before was on perfect display in the charred remains of memories of the villagers' homes. He watched as families ran in a flurry of circles trying to find water to douse out what flames were left. Dozens of bodies covered in dried blood that caked itself in long streaks to match the mud and soot that tracked on open skin. A few bodies scattered around the area showcasing what happened to those who tried to fight - who attempted to save their homes. Zoro felt his hand tighten on the Wado Ichimonji as his teeth ground down tight together. 

“Arlong did this? Why?”

Sanji’s voice cut through the panic and, for once, Zoro didn’t find his voice grating. He didn’t have to look at the man to see the disbelief that painted his words. The heartbreak. The rage. He felt it too. 

Usopp dashed from his right to grab a bucket and attempt to help put out whatever fires were left. He did more than the rest of them. They were all too stunned to move. None of that could compare, however, to how Nami was feeling. 

Zoro risked a glance in her direction and immediately looked away. Not that the burned huts were giving him a different source of joy. 

Nami looked broken. Nami looked guilty, as if all of this was specifically her fault. As if Arlong had ever meant to let Nami go - let her village go - when she gave Arlong the money. Arlong was never going to let Nami go free. Maybe you’d realized that before the rest of them. Zoro knew you were smarter than him, at least. Smarter than his anger that blinded him from seeing the truth, especially about Nami. 

Zoro had wanted someone to blame for how you looked when he saw you. He needed someone to break with the fire that boiled his blood and made his vision crest in black. Like a fool he’d chosen Nami. The one person who suffered the most - had been suffering in silence for a long time. 

Until you saw her suffering and wanted to remind her she wasn’t alone. 

Zoro was glad you couldn’t see how defeated Nami looked. The way Nami’s haunted eyes roamed over every last destroyed hut, every lifeless body, and beat herself with one singular thought. 

It’s all my fault. 

“To punish the villagers. And to punish me.”

Usopp was too busy to notice the rush of villagers who were stampeding towards them. His back turned towards them while he put out the last of a fire of what Zoro could only assume used to be a porch. The group was coming up fast and it wasn’t hard to see that Nojiko was leading the pack. 

“What’s going on?”

“Nojiko told us about your sacrifice,” Genzo began. His voice edged with a sad determination as he asked, “We didn’t know. Can you ever forgive us?”

Disbelief coiled on Nami’s face and echoed in her voice as she replied, “There’s nothing to forgive. Coco Village is my home.”

“Then it’s our turn to sacrifice. We're done living in fear. We’re gonna march on Arlong Park. If those fishmen want a fight -“

“That’s not a fight. That’s a massacre! You will all be killed.”

“If there’s no hope for us to buy our freedom, then I say we die trying to fight for it!”

Genzo yelled the last few words to raise up a chorus of voices. All of them in a resounding agreement that they’d rather die than continue to live the same way for another minute. Zoro had to give it to them: it was impressive. Even if it meant they’d be slaughtered in less than a minute. 

“No, everyone, please!”

Nami struggled to calm down the rising mob and their anger. Zoro knew that, while anger could fuel the adrenaline in your veins, it would never be enough to make up for skill. These were farmers. Homemakers. They gave their bodies to the land to help raise it to its full potential. They didn’t spend hours swinging swords until their arms threatened to collapse. Practice in rings with bruises of their failures scattered across their bodies like road maps. While their size was impressive, Zoro looked out amongst the villagers and only saw another empty grave waiting to meet them. 

“No, I…I won’t let you do that.” Finally, the mob grew quiet enough for Nami to finish. “This is my fight.”

“No.” Luffy’s voice carried across the gap between their small group and the villagers. Loud enough they all snapped their heads in his direction. “This is our fight. Right, guys?”

Well, as first mates go…

“Finally, I get to cut something.”

Zoro never meant those words more. Seeing the village - the villagers - the dead and ruined among them didn't spur him into action. It only added to the aching restraint he’d been showing to draw out his blade and nurture the tangerine groves with fishmen blood. 

“But how are we gonna beat Arlong? We saw what he did at Baratie.”

“Every creature has a weakness,” Zoro cut in, but Usopp wasn’t having it. 

“Even bulletproof ones?”

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Luffy muttered. 

Zoro sparred a glance in his direction to find his captain deep in thought. He wanted to ask him what, if anything, did he think of before Luffy continued. 

“And when I do, I won’t hesitate.”

It felt good to know that this was happening. That they were finally going to stop chatting and start putting all those useless words to action. Zoro was about ready to turn on his heel and head out, when a man came shouting from behind the mob of villagers. A woman struggled to help hold him under his arms, his own arms noticeably wobbled as he tried to apply weight with his arms to help. 

“Wait, please! My daughter-“

“Oh my god-“

Zoro’s eyes flicked to Nami. The way her eyes glistened with fresh tears. A hand clamped over her mouth while she tried to calm her thoughts about whatever it was, she knew. 

“What is he saying?” Sanji asked. 

“I’m pretty sure he yelled something about his daughter,” Usopp offered, his hands wringing tighter on the strap of his satchel. 

When the man was close enough, he believed he could be heard, and he tried again. Now leaning more on the woman for support as his cane dragged in the dirt. 

“Please, please my daughter, Nazifa, they took her.”

“Arlong took her?” 

“No. One of his men-“

“You’re the father of the little girl,” Nami sobbed. “The one that asked Doc for help.” 

Nami’s words collided into Zoro’s chest and stole the breath from his lungs. This time, it wasn’t his eyes that roamed to where she stood, but his whole body. He wanted to grab her - shake her and ask what she meant. It was strange to go from feeling grounded to free falling in a blink of an eye. 

The man shook his head weakly as another villager came up to wrap his arm around their shoulder. The support helped the woman who began to struggle to hold the man up on her own. 

“Thank you, my friend. Yes. Nazifa, my daughter. She told me she found a doctor. A nice woman who went by the name of-“ 

This man. This father spoke your name and Zoro felt crippled. There was never any doubt left in his mind that you were there - Arlong Park. What none of them had expected was for Arlong to send his men to take an innocent child, as well. But Zoro knew, it wasn’t meant to be a punishment on anyone else but you. 

“Doc,” Usopp whispered. 

His wringing hands stopped as he took a step forward. Usopp’s mouth hung open in worry, as if he wanted to ask a thousand questions, but every single one of them abandoned him. 

“Yes. She said that was a nickname. My daughter asked for her help and Kuroobi came and took her. Please! I am begging you - please bring Nazifa back to us.”

In an instant, it went from a need to rescue you to something bigger. Zoro couldn’t name it, but it landed on his tongue with a warning and scraped down his throat until he swore, he tasted blood. The girl was meant to hurt the village, Zoro knew, but it was also meant to hurt you. If there was one thing Zoro knew for certain, it was that you would sacrifice yourself to save that little girl. He had no doubt that was Arlong’s plan all along. 

Without looking to see if anyone else would follow, Zoro turned on his heel and headed back out of the village. He didn’t care if Luffy or Nami or that waiter was behind him. He was done waiting to save you - to now save a little girl. Zoro was going to save you both and burn Arlong Park to the ground in the process. 

You were in and out of consciousness as night grew into day. One minute you were blinking past a wave of nausea that bloomed into pain. The darkness noticeable in the illuminated light of the torches. The next, you were startled back into consciousness by a shriek from Nazifa. Your eyes blinked around a sunrise as they struggled to focus - to locate her in a mess of bodies.

The fishmen were no longer drinking and laughing. Their party was now abandoned for what looked like packing up items that would be useful on a voyage instead of a home base. Somewhere in the course of the night, the small group Arlong sent out to burn the village had returned. Their laughter and mimics of the villagers screams a joke they roared about all night as they were met with waiting bottles of beer. Some of them came to gawk at you; poke at you and laugh. The shock of the dagger still housed in your side a reality you were reminded of by the growing garnet puddle that was aging with the flakes of brown at the edges. 

Your eyes zoomed in and out of focus. It felt like someone had tied you to a merry-go-round and spun you relentlessly until you weren’t sure if the sky was up or down, left or right. The harder you tried to stay awake the more it seemed your body was ready to greet unconsciousness. You couldn’t allow yourself to sleep. Not when Nazifa screamed for help. For them to stop. 

While your eyes couldn’t focus, your ears seemed able to follow the high-pitched pleas until you located her where Kuroobi had chained her. The body of the clown twitched behind her making her scream anew as a fishman threatened to poke her with the very sharp end of a harpoon. 

“Hey! Fish sticks!” You called almost choking as you coughed. A fresh hint of blood salted your tongue. “Hey!”  

Finally, he looked up and glowered in your direction. 

“What did you call me?” 

You were willing to bet his ancestors descended from a barracuda the way his teeth gnashed. 

“You heard me. Fish. Stick. Pick on someone your own size before you end up on a pirate's menu.” 

It wasn’t the smartest idea you’ve had. Well, to be fair, so far none of your ideas were coming up as real winners. Winners or not, you weren’t going to leave Nazifa to the mercy of some jackass. Even if said jackass possibly came from a long line of razor-sharp flesh-eating fishes. 

His reply came in him throwing the stick up and catching it mid-air to launch in your direction. You tried to prepare yourself for the blow. The impact. You could see it aimed directly for your chest and might go clean through…if he wasn’t apparently cock-eyed. A rush of air signaled the harpoon had whizzed past and landed with a splintering crack into the wood of one of the carnival games. 

If this was a different time where you weren’t helplessly strung up like a turchicken on All Feasts Day, you might have made a joke. For once in your life, you could recognize now was not a good time to wound someone’s pride. Instead, you waited for him to puff up his chest and walk away from Nazifa before you called her over. 

You didn’t think she would come. Her eyes reflected the haunting image of what she had seen - the monster you’d allowed yourself to be. Plus, you were pretty confident you looked about as welcoming as you felt. You considered smiling in her direction, but decided against it when you considered how it might look. 

Try to look friendly and end up looking terrifying. 

“It’s okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Again, she didn’t move. She just stared and watched for any signs of…what? For you to change? For the inky blackness to spread around your eyes and coat your fingertips. You didn’t know what else to do to prove to her you were still you. So, you settled on patiently waiting. It wasn’t until another wave of pain rendered you unconscious, that you woke up to find her closer to you, or as close as the chain would allow Nazifa to get. 

Once you knew she was close, you allowed another fit of unconsciousness to overcome you. You hoped if anyone tried to do anything to Nazifa, you would wake up in time to try and do something. Anything to make sure she was safe, because you knew once morning came, Luffy would come for you with Zoro beside him. 

You held onto that thought as the fishmen scurried around you - heavy booted feet louder than usual informed you their arms were bared down with extra weight. They weren’t just packing up a few supplies on the ship to go away for a few weeks. Arlong and his men planned to run, and either they intended to take Nazifa with them or leave her behind. 

Neither option sounded like a winner.

If they did try and take her, what could you do? Realistically, you weren’t in any shape to try and defend yourself, let alone another person. It also wasn’t helping you couldn’t stay conscious for long periods of time or the very real fact you were dying. There was no point in denying it. Not when your body was numb and even the pain wasn’t sharp enough to keep you awake. 

Chew was pacing back and forth. His webbed hand wrapped tightly around a brand-new bottle of whiskey - his liver must be screaming for mercy - as he watched the fishmen continue to shuffle and stack crates. Some packing what preserves were left from the celebratory party from last night in their own crate.

“Let’s pick up the pace! You know Arlong hates to wait.” 

Chew walked by you and waited until you lifted your head, your neck craning to the right, to get a good look at him. He was trying to be intimidating as he raised the lip of the bottom to his lips and took a long sip. Chew tried to convey hunger - either for your guts or something else - and all you felt was a giggle growing in your chest. You waited until Chew was satisfied with his attempt at being scary before you checked on Nazifa to make sure she was still beside you curled up as she watched the fishmen work. 

As soon as you knew Nazifa was still safe - still beside you - you let your chin fall back to your chest when clouds of smoke bombs exploded around you. Each explosion caused a small yelp of terror from Nazifa and you felt one of her hands reach out and grab at your calf. Your wrists strained against the chains. Your fingers desperate to reach out and stroke her hair and whisper that she was okay. It would all be okay. 

A few more stray smoke bombs went off and you found your voice, cracked and tired, still trying to comfort her. 

“Who the hell is this? Who would be stupid enough to attack us?” 

Chew’s rhetorical question was answered when you heard the violent collapse of the gate. The sound of wood and metal cracking apart with a few stray pieces no doubt landing in the unsuspecting flesh of a few fishmen. This was a guess, but the sudden shrieks of pain made it feel like a spot-on assumption. 

Nazifa’s tiny fingers dug in harder into your calf, but you were barely aware of the touch. No one was paying attention to you, and, in their panic, you began to try and pull at the chains that kept your arms extended. It wasn’t until the smoke cleared that you turned your head just enough to watch Luffy, Nami, Usopp, and Sanji enter with Zoro bringing up the rear. 

It was almost comical the way they looked around the compound. The determination that creased their brow and the way it fell apart as one-by-one their eyes fell to Arlong’s cabanas and his makeshift throne. 

You were on full display in the middle for them to see. Just the way Arlong had planned for you to be.

“Nooooo!”

Not like this. Don’t see me like this.

It felt silly. It should be ridiculous that this was your one thought. Your one worry. Not the dagger violently embedded into your side like an unholy symbol of strength begging to be removed. Or the very, very real fact you knew you were slowly dying. 

No. You didn’t want their - your friends, your family’s - lasting memory of you to be arms spread violently wide, the fight in your body long gone, and covered in blood and gore. 

You could only imagine what you must have looked like. What it was exactly that they were all seeing. Your imagination wouldn’t do justice to the horrors that Arlong and his men had inflicted on you. And yet, the sound of Nami’s broken sobs were enough to awaken your dying heart only to absolutely shatter it all over again. 

There were a thousand and one reasons why you shouldn’t look up. What good would it do you to see the hurt - the pain - of seeing you sacrificially stretched out to glorify Arlong’s purpose of hatred? Each one of them hammered its growing demand to look at them. To allow yourself at least a glimpse of relief at seeing them one last time before…before it was too late.

You should’ve listened to the chimes of warning that resonated through your skull, because when you looked up it wasn’t joy and happy smiles that greeted you. 

Nami was the first one you noticed. Her body collapsed to her knees, hand over her mouth, as she sobbed. You wanted to call out to her and remind her none of this was her fault. You chose to come here. You came here for her. To save her. And now she was where she belonged - back beside Luffy and crew. 

The sight of Luffy’s hat on her head made you want to smile. You knew the importance the straw hat held to Luffy, and he showed Nami her friendship was something he treasured - valued - above all. You wish you could tell her, “Told you so,” but would have to take a rain check. 

It was the shout of your name that tilted your head towards Usopp. Out of everyone there, Usopp is what shattered your heart the instant your eyes landed on him. Everyone deserves a friend like Usopp. Who loved them recklessly and gave support blindly. 

“The Great Captain Usopp,” you smiled around the whisper. 

You knew he couldn’t hear you. The distance was too far and his body trembled as he looked at you. You wanted to tell him it was okay. It was all going to be okay, but you were never good at lying. Usopp was always good at creating stories of adventure to comfort others and bring smiles to their faces. It was never your talent, but his. 

You were so focused on him that when movement on your left and a glint of steel eclipsed your vision you knew already who it was. The hand Luffy placed on his chest was almost not enough to keep Zoro from taking another step. 

“Zoro.”

This time your voice was no whisper. It held no plea or cry for salvation. For a split second, you were alone with him inside Nojiko’s home. His hand cradling your face, possessing your hair between his fingers, as his lips parted yours and he devoured every sound he coaxed from between your ribs. 

You wanted to tell him…needed to tell him…that you lov-

“Here she is: your monster.”

Chew stepped in front of you and obscured your vision from him. They could blind fold you and your body would still know where Zoro was. In a crowded room, on a busy street, with miles of sea between you, your soul would always find him. 

Chew moved aside to give you a flourish that sent an uneasy ripple of laughter through the men. 

“What did you do!” Nami screamed, as she rose to her feet. 

“What did we do? Nami, what did you do? You betrayed us for these sad sacks of meat! Don’t forget we made you family, girl.”

“You were never my family,” she fumed. “You were my captor. You kept me in chains. You murdered my mother. Family doesn’t do that.”

“Where’s Arlong?” 

Luffy sounded determined. While his brow was furrowed in anger, angrier than you’d ever seen him, his voice remained calm. His mind no doubt went over what he planned to do once he came face-to-face with Arlong again. No matter how determined he looked it couldn’t squash the growing fear that flared to life in your gut as the memory of their last fight came to mind.

“Luffy - don’t,” you pleaded. 

A violent cough racked through your body that strained your arms against the chains and left spittle of amber to dribble down your chin. 

“Jesus, Doc-“Sanji huffed, taking a step forward. 

The minute they moved you caught a flash of movement to your right. The side Nazifa laid curled beside you. You heard a scream cut through the air and your body violently thrashed in your chains, body erupting in shockwaves of pain, as you struggled to see the fishman who held her at her throat. The tip of a knife pressed to the skin of her jugular until a fresh dot of blood appeared. 

“Nazifa!”

She was crying hard. Her little body trembling violently in the big fishman’s grasp as he looked from Luffy and crew and back to the men around him. 

“Tavar,” Chew hissed, “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m bargaining,” the man growled as he held her up higher. The chain at her ankle pulled at the joint until she let out a tiny whimper. “Stand down or I spray the floor with her blood.”

Everything came to a halt. 

No one moved. You weren’t sure anyone was breathing as a hush rolled through the compound. The only sound that echoed with horrifying clarity was Nazifa’s sobs. 

“Put the girl down. She isn’t a part of this.”

Luffy had both of his hands up to placate the man. While he seemed to come off meek, you knew he was calculating if he could reach her in time before the fishman hurt her. Before the knife could permanently take her from this world. You knew the answer to that sickening question. 

He wouldn’t. 

“Bullshit. She’s our ticket out of here. All five of you are going to sit your asses down and play nice or you’ll be digging two separate graves.”

You couldn’t allow them to give up coming this far. Nami’s freedom was certain but the villagers - Nazifa’s future - wasn’t. They would take her to make the villagers suffer one last time. Arlong and his men would make Nazifa suffer and break the way they tried to break Nami. You would not allow another childhood to be stolen. You would not allow another village to fall prey to men - fishmen or not - like Arlong. 

The fury had died at the surprise of the blade in your side. The shock of knowing you were going to die sent the darkness back and at bay. You didn’t know much about it or what it was, but all you could do was offer your body - what was left of your life - to coax it back out. 

You pleaded - begged - as Tavar stepped back with Nazifa. The chain caught and pulled on her ankle but he didn’t stop. He kept moving. Her screams filtered the air and the fury Arlong tried to kill erupted with a vengeance inside of your gut. 

You didn’t understand what this was or what you were. You understood nothing except that whatever it was lived inside you, gave you the strength you needed, one last time to try and save her. This darkness may be born of hatred, of rage, but that was not who you were, and it would not be the last thing you allowed Arlong or his men to make you. 

“Let. Her. Go!” You bellowed.

You didn’t need to see inside the iris of Arlong, or anyone, to know what you looked like. You felt the change slide through you the way oil pours over objects; it infects the sea like a disease. The rush of strength that corded through your muscles and the sizzling sound of burning metal. 

Realistically, you knew you weren’t going to be afforded all the time in the world. While you may have felt a surge of strength, it was limited. It did nothing to cure the slow death that was overtaking your body. The spurt of power only filled tired, fading muscles. Whatever strength you were able to gain needed to go to this one moment. 

While you pulled against the restraint on your left wrist, you maneuvered your fingers to press into the metal. You pressed deeper and deeper, tugging with every fiber of your being, until you heard the wood groan in defiance just before it snapped. 

The sudden loss of suspension sent you stumbling to the ground. The sound of the canopy creaking and slowly crashing behind you swallowed up the surprised shouts of some of the fishmen. 

You only had eyes for the one. 

Nazifa watched as you tried to get your legs to work. Your ankles and knees felt unstable as you applied weight back onto the joints; the muscles screaming in protest as they weakly helped move you forward. It was a slow, chunky movement, but you didn’t need to be fast. You just needed to get him. 

Tavar was transfixed on your descent. He wasn’t paying enough attention to the fact your legs, no matter how wobbly, were moving you forward. The chain dragged behind you while your right arm remained suspended. You didn’t have time to try and pry that one free. You only had a matter of seconds to launch forward, your hand outstretched, to grab the hand that held the blade. 

Fishmen’s skin is said to be bulletproof. There was the rumor that even blades sharpened to the point it could slice through hair were unable to slice through the weakest fishmen skin. You second guessed that last one, because the minute your fingers touched down on Tavar’s hand you felt your fingertips slip into the meat underneath. 

He bellowed out a scream of shock as he dropped the knife - dropped the girl. He was backpedaling away from you, his hand held high with the skin bubbling and melting. If this was under different circumstances, you would’ve wretched. 

This was no time for a weak stomach. 

Nazifa was back on the ground and crying. Her tiny hands scurrying her back away from you as far as the chain would let her. You reached out and grabbed the chain and wrapped it tightly in your hand. She let out a scream of her own, afraid you would hurt her, before the chain sizzled in your grip just enough for you to give it a good jank and snap it in two. 

In one last attempt to get her to understand she was free, you threw the broken chain gently towards her and waited for her eyes to meet yours. 

“Run.”

You didn’t have much time left. All this commotion - the strength you didn’t have to move - it was catching up to you quick. You made sure to watch Nazifa scramble up to her feet, her tiny hands grabbing the broken chain, and run towards the front of the compound towards safety. 

Towards Luffy. 

It wasn’t long before you felt someone tug on your broken chain. It jerked you back towards them - Chew and another fishman. Chew waited until he knew your hand was safely held far enough away for him to close the distance. To wrap his hand around the hilt of the dagger Arlong gifted you and twist it in deeper. 

You could gasp. No sound came out as your mouth fell open in shock as agony spread like a shockwave through your gut. He made sure to give you one last smile before he twisted again for good measure and pulled the blade free. 

That’ll do it, you thought. Nothing in there to stop the bleeding…

You heard the roar of your name crack against the sky. You didn’t need to look to know it was Zoro who called out to you. Zoro who would never admit your name held both ferocity and anguish all in one word. You couldn’t do much else but feel your body fall weightless, swimming through nothing, as it collided with a thud against the concrete. 

You only had enough strength to turn your head to face him. Your eyes doubled in vision as you watched him rush forward, more demon than man. Your demon hunter, Roronoa Zoro. The future greatest swordsman who ever lived. 

“You’re dead.” 

The words left him like an avalanche; his voice steeped in hatred dripping with malice. His body felt like it was being boiled in his rage while his eyes focused solely on you. For a split second, Zoro felt the ground tremble under his feet. He considered maybe this was the way the earth chose to answer him. Could it feel hell stirring in the depths of its guts? The damned and demons writhing frantically beneath the soil at the thought of receiving new souls to torment? 

It took Zoro only a moment to realize it wasn’t an earthquake or hell under his feet that shook. 

It was him. 

The world faded inside his vision and narrowed in on your body protecting the girl - hilt of the blade still protruding from your side - Zoro felt like his body would implode if he didn’t move. He could deal with the anger - the sheer unmovable hatred - that promised them only their deaths. 

Fucking idiots. They didn’t seem to realize death had walked inside their compound. Zoro was more than happy to shepherd them across to hell. 

“Where’s Arlong?”

“He’d be in the map room- Zoro!”

Zoro was done talking. Done listening to plans of actions. He only needed one. 

Cut. Kill. 

He rushed forward and made contact with the first fishman in his path. His arms swiftly blocked the oncoming blade on a sloppy downward thrust that ended with Zoro’s blade slicing through his gut. His feet moved on their own accord away from the dying fishman towards the next one that rushed him. 

Zoro was vaguely aware his arms were carrying out slashes before his mind could catch up. It was years of relentless training and meditating that made him fight with ease. On any given day, Zoro would tell you it was the thrill of testing his metal and having a good sword fight that spurred him forward. He wouldn’t deny the excitement - the euphoric feeling - of beating someone supposedly better than him. Breaking foes more than twice his size into pint sized pieces. 

A fight like this - surrounded by dozens and dozens of fishmen - would tick all of his boxes. He would’ve relished in the fight. 

Not now. 

Not with you broken and bleeding so many feet away from him. 

She’s dying. 

Shut up! 

Another rush of fishmen and Zoro easily parried a blow and followed it up by rolling his shoulders to the side and bringing the Wado along with him. It sliced clean through the flesh of the fishman just in time for him to lunge forward, knocking back a blow that would’ve landed at his collarbone and embedding the Wado Ichimonji deep into the chest of his would-be attacker. 

A fishman jumped from the pool to land in front of Luffy, stopping him dead in his tracks from following Nami. Zoro tore off at a sprint, slicing the neck of a fishman on the way, and rode the momentum sideways up the rock wall. When he was close enough, he sliced just below the inside of his knees sending the fishman screaming backwards into the pool. 

Zoro landed crouched on a rock and tried to ignore the growing sting of flesh tearing. All your hard work at stitching him back together again with the help of Zeff would be for nothing if he wasn’t careful. 

Careful. What a crazy fucking concept when the rage in his gut was giving way to something more terrifying than open wounds. 

He was spending too much time on the rock. He wasn’t playing it smart. It would only take a matter of seconds for one of these assholes to get the drop on him and wound him. Zoro was aware someone was trying just that. 

A fishman landed just behind him and as Zoro swung sideways, body following at an angle, he stopped midway as Sanji power kicked the fishman off the rock. 

“I had that one,” Zoro commented dryly. 

What he received in return was a smug smile with Sanji’s hands annoyingly tucked in his pockets. 

“If you had’em I wouldn’t have got’em.” 

A flash of annoyance ran through him that was quickly followed by a thrill. It’d been a long time since someone kept him on his toes and forced him to fight faster to prove who was better. It was a feeling he could’ve got lost in if it wasn’t for the painful reminder of your lifeless body yards away. 

Lifeless. 

You weren’t even moving anymore. Your eyes were still open, but Zoro didn’t sense any movement. No light ticks as they registered the battlefield they’d created or a steady rise and fall of your chest. 

He felt himself barreling forward through the next fight. A clash of steel on steel or his blade slicing through flesh to sever bone. Zoro worked his way through wave after wave of men to make his way to you. 

Zoro’s eyes never left you. 

His eyes always flickered back after one fishman went down to make sure you were still where he’d last seen you. That no one was coming to hurt you anymore. 

Zoro wasn’t a fool. He’d seen what you’d become in the blink of an eye. The way the air itself seemed to shift as what he could only describe as black ink spilled its way along your skin. It darkened your one good eye and bled out even further. The tips of your fingers and hands slowly becoming ominous like the void while they all watched you reach out and melt your way through skin. 

Here she is: your monster. 

That’s what they’d called you as they had you on full display. Zoro was willing to bet he wasn’t the only one of them that was confused, but that confusion paled in comparison to the way you looked hung up - bloodied and exposed - like some fucked up toy. Zoro thought he knew what grief was like - the pain of loss and its familiar ache of rage when Kuina died. 

Seeing you like that almost brought Zoro to his knees. 

Your body was broken. The dagger in your side was not hard to miss along with the cuts and burns that were littered across your body. 

These men tried calling you a monster. The only monsters he saw were the dozens of fishmen around him who tried tearing you apart for their own amusement. Who dissected you, spat at you, all while he knew damn well you fought to protect that little girl long before they ever arrived. 

Zoro noticed the way that one word - monster - speared itself into your heart and caused you to flinch. He wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and help you see the only monsters here were the ones now dead at your feet. An offering Zoro would give you, if it meant it would save you. 

The next time his eyes glanced over his shoulder, as the force of his sword knocked his opponent back a few feet, he saw something different. A glimmer of hope washed over him as he realized you’d brought a hand to rest where the dagger had been. Your body was still unmoving, but it was enough for Zoro to know you were still fighting - he could still save you. 

He launched himself down the path, taking out two fishmen as he went until, on the last swing, he had to kneel down to do an upwards slash from naval to chin. The cut was successful, but it required him to overextend his arms and the sharp tug on Zoro’s still healing wound left him down on one knee. His hand hovering over the stitches and feeling fresh blood begin to bleed on the fresh bandage you’d given him. 

“You look tired. Maybe you should take a break.”

Fucking waiter. 

Zoro glanced in his direction and watched as he landed a debilitating spin kick that left Sanji at eye level. Zoro could feel a fishman rushing up behind him, but he didn’t rush to stand. He wanted to show the waiter he was more than capable of fighting - more attuned to attacks - without even having to look. 

He deflected the blow easily and stabbed the man over his shoulder. Zoro’s words grounding out as he spoke, “Maybe you outta get back in the kitchen.”

Sanji rose up just in time to duck under a downward swing. He stood to his full height to land a hard blow into the gut of his would-be attacker. 

“Quit screwing around. Doc needs us!”

Zoro didn’t care to watch as Sanji dispatched two fishmen at once. His vision had turned crimson and the adrenaline at your name leaving the waiters’ lips sent his blood roaring. The waiter should be lucky a fishman just conveniently happened to be in front of Zoro. For it was him that felt Zoro slowly press the sharp edge of the Wado against his throat just before Zoro sliced it clean through. 

“You just got here. Don’t you dare stand there and try to tell me you know what Doc needs.”

“I know she’ll need my cooking once I save her,” Sanji shot back as he went head on with another fishman. 

“Putting two slices of bread together doesn’t amount to cooking,” Zoro grumbled. 

“Ooooooh, is someone feeling threatened?”

“Shut up,” they both snapped to the very annoying, and somehow forgotten, bag strapped to Sanji’s side. 

“Then get me back to my body! We’re close. I can feel my toes. Trust me! I can help you guys win this thing and save Doc. Something tells me she is very much still bleeding on the floor.”

Zoro didn’t want to admit they could use the help. The only reason he hadn’t run to your side was the bodies that planted themselves in the way. Every fishman ended up sacrificing themselves just to make sure you’d suffer a little longer, bled longer, waiting for help that may never come. 

At this point, Zoro would take any extra help, whatever or whoever it was, if it meant he could get to you sooner. 

“I swear clown,” he growled, “if you screw us over…”

He watched as Sanji tipped the bag over and let Buggy’s head fall free from inside. It landed with an annoying thud and an even more annoying, “Ow!” Of pain. Within seconds Buggy’s head flew over towards his body and reconnected. The clown practically jumped for joy out of his restraints. His hands touched a pattern of desperation across his arms and chest as he spun around in circles. 

“Oh! It’s so much better than I even remembered.” Zoro and Sanji waited until he spun around one last time before he faced them. “Hey, so, um…I’m gonna get out of here.”

Zoro was more annoyed than surprised when Buggy flipped them off and made a run for it. 

“Hey!”

“Sorry, kiddos. I’d love to make thing right, see to it that Doc was, ya know, still alive, but it’s time I exit stage left.”

“Fucking clown,” Zoro whispered as they watched him depart. 

“Eh, we don’t need him mate. Everyone's either gone or dead-“

“How dare you strike down my fishmen brothers! That’s fine. You’re no match for my fishman karate.”

“You have a habit of speaking to soon,” Zoro snapped in the waiter’s direction, which he dismissed with a grunt. 

The large fishman ran forward and barreled like a torpedo inside of the water. Zoro tried to watch as he picked up speed inside the pool, but barely caught on at the last minute when he rose out of the water. Zoro sidestepped just in time as he grabbed a hold of Sanji and took him down. 

Zoro rushed forward and tried to cut at his back, but the fishman easily blocked it and swatted him back. The forearm that smashed into his chest sent his next breath smashed against his lungs. A fresh wave of pain took hold of his chest as he moved to stand, feeling the stitches become looser. 

He got to his feet just in time as the fishman took a challenging step toward him. Zoro was up to block the oncoming blow and spin to his feet. He swung tight curves with his blade to keep his midsection protected from any unexpected kidney shots, but it wasn’t enough. This fishman’s skin was proving to have been toughened by years of battle and experience. The Wado was sliding right off each blow that the fishman countered. 

In one swift move, he landed a crushed punch to his chest that sent Zoro flying back a few feet. When he landed, he didn’t try to get up right away. He couldn’t. Not when he felt like a split coconut. 

Zoro was vaguely aware that Sanji was up and fighting, giving him time to collect himself. It didn’t last long, however, until he was knocked back just a few inches away from Zoro’s feet. 

“You’re no match for me. My kicks can break a ship’s keel.”

“That’s nothing,” Sanji grunted, as he tried to rise to his feet. “You should have seen Zeff’s kicks when he found an eggshell in the crème brûlée.”

“I get it. Zeff was mean to you. Boo-boo.”

Once they were both on their feet, the fishman rushed forward and double kicked into Sanji’s chest, sending him flying back. Zoro easily sidestepped the waiter’s flying body and rushed forward swinging a quick succession of blows with the sword. Each one the fishman dodged, eventually knocking Zoro out of the way and back to where he started next to Sanji. 

“Nami is a fool to have her faith in such weak compatriots. First, this doctor who is weaker than a shell, and then you two. Not worth your salt to be called fighters.”

Zoro felt his brow raise in question as Sanji began to remove his suit jacket, until he saw the look on the man’s face of tight rage. 

“You don’t ever badmouth Nami. You don’t ever badmouth Doc.”

“Now you’ve done it.”

Zoro watched as Sanji landed impressive blow after blow against the fishman. Each one reverberating off the fishman’s ribs with an impactful echo. Zoro knew, without having to continue watching, that once Sanji was done calling out his last shot, the fishman wouldn’t be getting back up. 

This was his chance. 

He should’ve dared one last glance behind him just to make sure the waiter had it under control. That he wouldn’t be bringing danger back to you. It was a sensible thing to think of. But Zoro was tired of being sensible; of waiting and before he knew it, his body carried him over to you with his knees crash landing down beside you. 

His hands hovered over your body as his eyes tried to take in the stock of your injuries but - fuck - there were so many. Zoro didn’t know what to do or where to begin to look. This was your expertise. Sure, he’d closed up a few small wounds of his own. Small scars for small fuck ups. 

It was you who mended him back together after one of the biggest battles of his life. It was you who kept him alive after everything he’d said, after struggling to push you away. 

So afraid. 

Zoro had been so afraid to tell you how he felt; what you made him feel for the first time in his life. Last night in Nojiko’s hut hadn’t been enough to tell you - show you - just what your sheer presence meant to him. What your forgiveness felt like wrapped and pressed against his lips. 

A frantic sob shook itself free from his throat and brought him back from his thoughts. Tears he hadn’t known escaped past his lashes and were now sliding down his face. He needed to act. 

He needed to bring you back to him. 

Zoro could hear your voice of reason in his head, prompting him to look for the most life-threatening wound. It was easy to see. The blood that covered your hand was slowly beginning to run less and less, warning him that he was almost out of time. 

Quickly, Zoro tore his bandana off his head and removed your hand, immediately applying the cloth with pressure against the wound. The sudden press of his hand was enough to bring you back to consciousness. Your body jolted from the shock of his hand - the pain - pressing roughly against the wound and throat greedily sucking in a sharp breath that forced you to cough. 

You cried out from the pressure the cough caused and Zoro felt his body finally move into action. His free arm scooped you up close to his chest while he made sure his hand stayed pressed tightly against your wound. 

Zoro watched as your eyes tried to focus on him. It was at that moment when he felt the first stirring of fear coming back to life with a vengeance. You were so weak. The light in your eyes noticeably fading as he held your life pressed between the soaked cloth in his palm. 

He tried to smile as your eyes stopped on his face and, instead, it came out cracked. A sob shuttered through him as he fought the urge to press you tightly to his chest. 

A soft smile split across your bloodied lips. A hand that seemed weighed down by gravity itself struggled to lift up from your side. He figured after too many failures you would stop trying, but you didn’t. Of course you wouldn’t. You were determined to bring it to his cheek until you held it gently in the palm of your hand. You couldn’t keep it there; Zoro knew from the unsteady sway your arm gave it would drop. 

Without thinking, he wrapped you closer to his body, his left hand taking over giving pressure to your wound to allow his right to hold your hand tightly to his cheek. 

“Ther-there you are…”

Zoro smiled back his tears as he whispered back, “Been waiting for me?”

“All my life.”

You’d smiled around each soft-spoken syllable like it was an everyday thing. Like it was simple, as easy as breathing. As if the both of you were in some other reality where you were waking up from a dream and he’d been there to greet you. 

As if your words didn’t shatter what little reserve Zoro was holding onto before he broke. 

You gently took your hand away and brought it down to the hilt of the Wado Ichimonji. You gave it a light tap before you said, “We have to find you two more swords,” you gasped. “You don’t look right with just one.” 

Zoro couldn’t just let your hand go. He gently pulled it away from the hilt and placed it against his chest. His eyes staying connected with yours. 

“You gotta stay with me so we can find them. Together.”

He knew, from the way your smile wilted at the edges, he might have been asking a lot. The blood in the corner of her mouth seemed to be fresh. What was he doing waiting here with you? Why wasn’t he moving? 

Do something!

“Where’s the girl?” You coughed. “Where is Nazifa?”

Suddenly, Zoro couldn’t talk. Hand flexing - release - squeeze - release…

“The girl is good, Doc. She’s safe...because of you.”

It was the waiter who replied for him, but he didn’t care. For the first time he was grateful to hear Sanji’s voice, because Zoro couldn’t trust his own. 

“Never fear - The Great Captain Usopp is here.”

One by one they all filled in. Usopp from outside the compound and Nami from inside Arlong Park. Zoro didn’t look at them or care to see them. He should’ve asked where Luffy was (he was sure he heard Usopp ask and Nami answer) but he couldn’t pry his eyes away from you. 

Zoro knew there were questions being thrown around him. The rising of heated voices and bodies crowding around him to try and get to you. Anytime he felt someone try to move in, he pulled you closer to him. 

I won’t let anything happen to you. 

Never again. 

He was lucky he’d brought you closer or else he wouldn’t have caught the barely audible whisper of your next words. 

“You were right, you know.” He felt his brow knit together and it only seemed to amuse you more. Your smile was unable to show it as it began to fade. “I should’ve stayed - with you last night. In Nojiko’s hut.”

Zoro felt himself laughing back tears. 

“That’s the first smart thing I’ve heard you say.”

“Don’t get used t - don’t get used to it, Mosshead.”

“Hey, Doc, eyes on me!”

He could feel you going limp in his arms. Zoro shook you, praying that maybe pain or annoyance would keep you with him. Zoro needed to get up - to move. You couldn’t wait any longer for Luffy to finish with Arlong. 

“Nami! Coco Village - does it have a doctor?”

“What? No, no” Nami stammered out. “The only doctor that’s been here is Doc. The village has a midwife and that’s it.” 

“It’ll have to do,” Zoro grunted. 

He placed all his weight on his legs to steady himself as he pushed back onto his heels. His arms held you close to his chest as he started sprinting towards the compound entrance and back out into the sea of trees. 

Zoro was never much for directions. It’d been a running joke since he was young that if you told him to head North, he’d somehow end up North-West or even all the way South. It didn’t bother him before, his poor sense of direction, but for once in his life he hoped, as he ran through the trees, that he was heading in the right direction to the village. 

Please. Please. 

“Zoro,” your meek voice called out for him. It called again, attempting to demand his attention, as he stopped for a brief second. His eyes roamed around the trees looking for the first sign of the tangerine groves through the clearing. With a, “Fuck,” flung loosely from his lips, he started forward again. 

He was worried you were going to tell him that he was going the wrong way. Just like you had when you’d helped him out of Kaya’s well. Zoro wouldn’t allow you to die. Not when he could save you. He wouldn’t let you die. Not because of him and his shit lack of directions. 

“Zoro-“

“Shhh, save your strength.”

“No,” you shot back. It was strong enough to make him believe you were okay. That your blood wasn’t leaking through his headband and between his fingers. “I need you to know…the flower. I think I started to fall for - for you, when you placed the flower…in my…hair.”

There! Just a few more feet Zoro could see the opening he’d been searching for. The tangerine grove just in front of him and another mile back to the village. 

“I’ll get you all the flowers you want, Snowdrop. I’ll bring you some everywhere we land. You just got to stay with me. Okay? Stay with me, Doc. You can’t leave me. You can’t - not when I’ve just found you.”

He waited for your reply. His leg muscles working in overdrive to keep himself from collapsing; keep pushing forward. He couldn’t deny his arms were beginning to shake under the strain to keep holding you, but Zoro would let his body collapse first before he ever let you go. 

He was so consumed with getting you there - if he could just get you there - it would all be okay. He didn’t notice that you’d gone limp. Your fingers were no longer digging between the buttons of his shirt to hold on. It wasn’t until he was at the edge of the village that the realization hit him and his whole body disintegrated in the center of the village. 

“Help! I need a doctor - somebody, help!”

Zoro always wondered what sound a broken man made when he felt like he lost everything. He wished he never had to find out. 

The days bled into week and that week became another. Garp and his Marines came within that time, interrupting an okay party. Sanji had - unsuccessfully - flirted with every girl in Coco Village and received the cold shoulder each time. 

It was the little amusement Zoro found throughout the whole thing. He felt bad he hadn’t actually been outside, listening to Usopp’s grand tales of adventure and defeating Arlong and his men, or seeing for himself the women blowing off Sanji’s flirtations one eye roll at a time. He wasn’t out there when Garp and his Marines first arrived, either. 

He’d been where he’s been the last few weeks stationed at your side, waiting, for the moment you woke up. The minute he’d heard the commotion outside, he’d quickly exchanged the book he’d been reading you for the Wado Ichimonji that rested beside the bed. 

It was only a false alarm. Or as false of an alarm they could all hope to get. Luffy’s grandpa wanted to hear from him that Luffy wanted to be a pirate - that he believed he was a pirate. Zoro still found it strange. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just send a postcard or something. Beating the shit out of your grandson just to make sure you heard right what career choice your grandson wanted to make seemed like an odd choice. 

Or maybe that’s just what families did. 

Zoro wasn’t all too sure on that last part. He’d never really had a family of his own. Not until now, that is. 

The villagers in Coco Village were kind in setting up a hut for you to stay. The midwife came to change your dressings until she’d asked him if he’d wanted to learn. In the beginning, Zoro couldn’t do it. As the layers of your clothes were removed, more horrors of what Arlong and his crew did to you came to light. 

It enraged him and made him feel sick. He wanted to resurrect them just so he could kill them again. Other than that, it filled him with a deep sense of regret. No matter what anyone said to him it would never be enough. There were no time machines. No wizards or potions that allowed anyone to go back in time to change the past. 

Didn’t mean he didn’t wish there was. 

So, after the initial shock of taking in every cut, every bruise and burn, Zoro finally let Lydia, the midwife, teach him how to care for you. 

Zoro was certain it was the gentlest he’d ever been - caring for your mending body. He cleaned and dressed your wounds every eight hours. His fingers gently placing salves Lydia mentioned were for soothing and others for fighting infections. 

Zoro was meticulous in his work and thought of ways to joke that, while you were sleeping, he’d taken your job. He brought in flowers he found as he walked the Conomi islands and made sure to replace them whenever they began to wilt. 

He saved each one, pressed between the pages of the books he read to you that he’d picked up from your room. 

The reading thing was something he’d picked up. When he wasn’t meditating, going out to practice, or get food from the waiter, he was reading out loud. Nami told him how Zeff told the crew, while he’d been asleep healing from Mihawke’s wounds, the importance of talking to him. It had something to do with following the sound of their voice or knowing they were there or something like that. Zoro wasn’t paying too much attention to what Nami was saying. Zoro just knew it was important he was next to you - talking or reading - to coax you back to the living. 

He considered he must be doing a piss poor job of it. In the last few weeks, you never stirred. When he ran a cool cloth down your arms or did your dressings you gave no sign that you could feel him. When he read books that apparently were by some philosophers or a terrible tale of young love gone wrong, it would elicit nothing. When he chastised the last book out loud Zoro thought, for sure, you would rise up to smack his shoulder. 

“It’s a classic.”

His current reading was making him want to go to sleep. Zoro couldn’t believe there were that many different plants that could kill you. He also didn’t want to consider why you had a book like this stashed in your room. He placed the book down on the cot, allowing his arms and legs to stretch before he crossed them both. 

A little nap wouldn’t hurt. 

It felt like you were stuck in molasses. The more you tried to move - to force your eyes open - you were greeted by infinite darkness. You were vaguely aware, outside of that darkness, there were voices. The shuffling of movement as heavy footsteps moved around the room until they came to a stop. 

There were voices that weaved themselves in and out. Whispers of words that tried to coax you back to the surface. A velvety baritone you knew all too well-read poems from Rumí and Basho; stories of old and new lovers. Of adventures that would keep them apart. 

You followed the path his voice weaved through syllables and vowels. His voice grown raspy as his lips formed the words of poetic confessions written centuries before you were born. 

“From the beginning of my life I have been looking for your face.”

The darkness wasn’t heavy enough to keep you under - drowning - forever swimming up and up to find your way out. You followed Zoro’s voice until a crescent of light began to show up above the endless black. All you had to do was reach-

You were jolted awake. You were in your body and no longer trapped in your mind. However, the minute you opened your eyes you were met with all the healing aches your body processed. The sensitive sting as your retinas tried to get used to natural light once again. So many questions filtered through your mind - how much time passed since you were asleep? And one specific major question: how were you not dead? 

You couldn’t recall much. Your memory was fuzzy and came in puzzle pieces; always missing the necessary piece to connect it all together. The last memory you had was Nazifa. The monster you’d been so lovingly called your entire life is what you became if it meant being able to save her life. After that…Chew took out the dagger and everything seemed to fade to black. 

Everything but him. 

Your mouth was drier than desert air, but when you glanced to your left and found Zoro asleep in his chair, Wado buried in the cross of his arms, all desire for water faded. 

There wasn’t any doubt in your mind the main reason you were alive was because of Zoro. 

You took advantage of seeing him like this, softer somehow as he allowed his body to relax in the comfort of your shared hut. Your eyes greedily drank in the angles of his face. The slope of his nose down to the small scars that created imperfect indents into this skin. They were so small, like the one that rested on the inside of his left cheek and on the top of his cupid’s bow. You couldn’t imagine someone - besides Mihawk - ever being able to reach him enough to mark him in any way. It was an unreal concept, and maybe that’s why you suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to touch him. 

“You know, you’re not much of a bodyguard if you get caught sleeping.”

Gods, was that your voice?! You sounded like shit. 

“You sound like shit.”

It was nice to know that even death couldn’t kill your hormones. Zoro’s voice was thick with sleep and somehow only enhanced the richness of his voice. You hated it. You were supposed to catch him by surprise. Not the other way around. 

“Well, do you by chance have any water handy?” 

Zoro reached down beside his chair to grab a bottle that looked very much not like a water bottle. He held it out towards you, bottom first, and gave it a little wave when you made no move to take it. 

“No water. Got booze, though.”

You couldn’t stop the chuckle from leaving you. Your body instantly wincing at the sharp pain it caused your very, very dry throat. 

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

Zoro shrugged before bringing the neck up to his lips and took a sip. 

“Suit yourself.”

“You know, you don’t seem incredibly shocked that I’m awake.”

“I knew you were awake before you said anything.”

“How-“

“Your breathing pattern. It changed.”

He made it sound like it was the simplest answer he could give. It didn’t feel simple to you. It meant he hadn’t really slept and that he - that Zoro - tuned himself into your breathing patterns for any sign of trouble or change. 

You weren’t sure what to say as you came to this realization. Zoro had never been one for heavy conversations or saying more than needed to be said, but the way he looked at you now…you could’ve sworn words were collecting on the back of his tongue. The both of you were unsure of how to proceed.

How long have you been here, next to me? 

You were close to asking when the door to the hut flew open and seconds later Luffy walked in, his eyes on a plate of food that had your mouth watering. 

“Hey Zoro, Sanji said you didn’t come for breakfast - OH MY GOD! Doc! You’re awake!”

Luffy had a habit of his hands grasping the top of his straw hat whenever he was excited. As if it would be enough to blow it from his head at any moment. Or maybe it was due to the fact that excitement had him rushing forward. What he was rushing towards was you, and you were not prepared for the way he threw himself on top of you. 

“Zoro - a little help,” you wheezed. 

You ask for help and what do you get? A shrug and a nod so small if you blinked, you’d missed it. 

Luffy pulled up just enough that your faces were mere inches apart. His eyes brightened with unshed tears as they roamed over your face. It took Luffy being magnet close for you to realize that you could once again see out of your right eye. The thought alone lets you breathe a little easier with the comfort you no longer look like a cyclops. 

You were alive. Your body wasn’t fully healed, and you weren’t sure if you could trust your legs but…you were alive. And Luffy was grateful to see you. 

“Oh, Doc, it is so good to see you moving around. We couldn’t get Zoro to leave the hut-“

“Okay, that’s enough,” your grumpy hut companion huffed, as Zoro couldn’t slingshot out of the chair fast enough. 

“Oh, a body crushing hug to the wounded is fine, but if he starts giving out secrets, heaven forbid.” 

You tried to glower over Luffy’s shoulder but found yourself smiling, instead. While Luffy was steadily reminding your body it was a bruised and damaged thing, it felt damn good to be in his arms. To be wrapped in his sunshine one more time. You brought your arms shakily up to embrace him as best as you could before Luffy pulled back to stand by the bed.

He smacked an excited hand across Zoro’s shoulder that earned no reaction from him. Zoro’s eyes protectively transfixed on your frame in the cot. 

“I have to let Nami, and the others know. They’re going to be so excited to know you’re okay!”

In usual Luffy fashion, he didn’t wait for confirmation from you or stopped to see Zoro was already about to protest. You were sure if Zoro was able to say anything, it would’ve been, “See needs more rest,” or something along those lines. It was something you would’ve said, but at least you could’ve added in, “Doctor’s orders.” 

Zoro just looked more broodier than usual, as Luffy crashed back out into the grove arms and voice waving out his excitement. 

The hut swelled with the silence that enveloped an unspoken heaviness between you. You couldn’t remember much, but you could remember Zoro fighting. He fought his way to get to you. Dozens of fishmen wanted him dead, but you could remember, before the blanket of nothingness danced across your vision his eyes as they found you. 

The Demon Pirate Hunter had never looked more broken.

Zoro crossed his arms over his chest - his still very swollen nicely formed chest - stop that! - and you wondered if he’d been tending to his own wounds. His jaw ticked and a heavy swallow followed as he turned his attention back to you. You couldn’t take the silence. You wanted to remind him he’d kissed you, not that long ago, in a place very similar, but you weren’t sure if it was to make him more protective or run screaming from his emotions.

Why did he have to be complicated? Naan said people were like onions - multilayered and required time to peel back everything there was to know. You wondered how many layers of protection for himself Zoro added sitting there beside you, not sure if you were going to make it. 

Or…no. They’d seen what you had become. 

Here she is your monster.

You tried to swallow past the growing dread that suddenly pressed down on your chest. You were never good at reading the room but - Luffy hugged you. They seemed grateful you were alright but…they all had to have seen. And yet…

“Zoro,” it wasn’t hard to notice the way his body tensed before it eased out of his body. “How is your wound? Have you or anyone else been tending to it?”

At least now he looked surprised. It was better than broody. 

“You’re lying in bed - more wounds than I can count - and you’re asking about mine?”

“Well, duh. I am a doctor, remember? You were my patient first.”

There it was. That half-cornered smirk you’d grown to love.

“I’m fine. It opened up a little during the battle, but I’ve been taking care-“

“Your stitches opened!” You sat up too fast and your hand shot to your side. Your own body trying to remind you, with a wince, it was still on the mend. 

Zoro was there kneeling by the bed, his hands furiously tossing back the blankets to get a clear look at your wound. It felt oddly intimate, his deft fingers running over the bandage and lightly prodding for any signs of tear or bright fresh blood. 

“You need to be more careful,” he huffed.

Your sudden outburst had him achingly close. His hand that he’d brought to your side protectively stayed in place over the bandage. You weren’t prepared for how close it’d brought you both together. If you wanted, you could’ve placed your forehead against his. You could lean just a few inches, brush your eyelashes across his cheek or press your lips against his.

But would he still want you? 

Your tongue nervously licked out across dry, cracked, lips and you weren’t a fool. The hungry way Zoro’s eyes followed the motion was the silent answer you needed. 

“Zoro,” you breathed his name like the faithful coming to worship. 

Another jaw tick. Another flick of his gaze was all it took for him to take that next step to move closer. Until the sound of sprinting feet pounding up wooden stairs tore you apart. 

When Usopp crashed through the door, he did so shouting your name. It was hard to be mad when you could see he was already crying. He launched himself at you and you started a debate whether he or Luffy squeezed the hardest when they were overcome with emotions. 

“Hey, hey,” Zoro chastised, “Remember she’s still not at a hundred percent. Be gentle.” 

“You telling anyone to be gentle, Mosshead, is the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Sanji!” 

His name came out in a fit of laughter as he moved towards you with gentle blue eyes and sunshine grin. Zoro grew tense beside you the closer Sanji came, and you thought you were going to have to intervene, but Sanji made it over and wrapped his arms around Usopp and you. 

“It’s so good to see you awake, Doc,” Sanji hummed into your ear. 

“It’s good to see you too, Sanji. How far does that happiness at me being alive and well go? Does this mean I get to order anything off the menu?”

“For you, sweets, I’ll even let you make your own menu,” Sanji replied as he stood up. 

A wink already loaded in the chamber and sent your way the minute he stood to his full height. 

“You’re pushing it, waiter,” Zoro warned. 

Sanji just shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to smile down at you. Slowly, Usopp disconnected himself from you, but made sure to take one of your hands in his. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up…so I can tell you all about how I single-handedly stopped Arlong and saved your life.”

You couldn’t stop your brows from raising up towards your hairline at his words. Of course he was the man of the hour. Who else could’ve performed such a truly amazing feat?

“Did you use your smoke powder special slingshot ammo?”

“Yes!” Usopp breathed out with a smile, “I was able to load multiples at once this time. They rained down on those fishmen and set them all on edge - just where I wanted them.”

You were smiling as you watched Usopp draw his arm back and make noises of the slingshot releasing. The small pops of explosions, the small powdered balls made as they crash landed on the floor inside Arlong Park.  You tried to keep wearing that same engrossed smile as your brain recalled how they really sounded. The smoke created a cloud that made it impossible to see - to breathe. 

Zoro must have noticed the slight change - a crack in the facade you tried to play - because you felt his hand gently place itself on your shoulder. For comfort and to ground you there in the present. 

“But I can tell you all about it when we get ready to leave.”

“For the Grand Line?”

Usopp’s smile wilted just a little before he responded, “Not exactly.”

You looked up at Luffy, Sanji, and lastly Zoro who’d taken back his hand and wasn’t facing you. 

“What’s going on?”

“Doc, we’ve been talking and we think it would be best to take you back.”

“Back?” 

“Back to Syrup Village.”

“I would just like to quickly point out,” Sanji began as he took a step forward, “that the only one who thinks this is a good idea is Usopp.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, man,” Usopp shot back over his shoulder. 

“I’m not going back.”

“Doc, look at what happened to you.”

“What happened to me can happen anywhere, Usopp, even Syrup Village. You of all people should remember how unwelcome I am there. How much they hate me.”

You whispered the last words as you leaned in to him, knowing that he was the only one who understood. How could he think that place was better for you than the Merry? 

“Naan is there-“

“She is the only one there with you gone.” Your voice was beginning to quiver and you hated how your body betrayed how deeply this was hurting you. “What am I supposed to do when she’s gone too?”

“I told you this was a shit idea,” Zoro grumbled.

“Not helping,” Usopp shot back. 

“Doc is a person with dreams and aspirations,” Luffy cut in between them. His body outlined in a halo from the outside light. “None of us have the right to take those away from her or tell her how to live her life. Not even if it’s meant to come with good intentions.”

Footsteps carried up the stairs and made their way to the doorway. A light knock from outside let everyone know, whoever they were, was coming in.  It wasn’t until you saw the bright orange hair that you felt your body try to leap out of the bed. 

“Nami!”

It was easy to see she wanted nothing more than to run over to you, as well. The two of you were owed one of the world’s longest hugs once you were out of this bed. You expected her to do just that, but noticed how she shuffled around Luffy with her hands softly on the shoulder of Nazifa. 

You felt your world tilt. She was safe. She was here and she was safe and okay and alive. But that joy was easily replaced with uncertainty. Flashes of the fear you’d caused her as she looked upon your face. Beyond the blood, bruises, and the place she’d ended up, Nazifa was terrified of you. 

You waited for her to scream. To point and tell you everything that you’d ever heard about yourself from others. You steeled your heart and tried to prepare for those words of fear and hatred to bash against the walls you’d so carefully created. Waited for the villagers to swarm the hut with pitchforks and torches to chase out the entire crew. 

The tension brought to life every wound your body was trying to heal but nothing prepared you for Nazifa barreling straight ahead. Her tiny body colliding into yours with such force your side erupted in pain. You couldn’t care about that as her tiny arms enveloped your waist and buried her face against your chest. 

“I’m happy you made it.”

You barely picked up her words as she mumbled them against your chest. Your arms were still held inches above her tiny body. Unsure of whether you should hug her back, if it was what she wanted. Carefully, you test it one arm at a time until they enveloped around her, bringing her in for a warm hug. 

“Me?” You whispered against her hair. “I’m happy you are safe. It’s all I wanted.”

“And she is - we all are - because of you. Because of your friends.”

The voice of Nazifa’s father jolted your head up to watch as he slowly entered the hut. Nami and Luffy made space for him as he entered and behind him, at the steps of the hut, were villagers who looked on. Each one of them held a look of gratitude.  

“You came to help even when you were told it could cost you your life. You’ve begun to heal me. You’ve given me one of the most precious gifts a father could ask for - time. You saved Nazifa not caring what it could cost. You have given us many gifts to be grateful for, and you, Doc of the Straw Hat crew, we are most grateful for you.” 

With each word every memory that shaped you from your village, all the words of disgust, the glances of mistrust; every single one disintegrated until the only one that was left was this moment. 

You were seen beyond what - who - you were questioned to be. None of them called you witch or devil. There was no hatred in their eyes or pitchforks ready to send you scattering back up to the hut up on the cliff. No one was trying to drag you back out to the ocean to leave you there to drown. 

For the first time in your life, you were met with kindness, and that kindness was enough to shatter every defensive wall you’d built. You felt yourself shatter under their gratitude, under Nazifa’s tighter embrace, and her soft words, “I’m glad it was you who came.”

The villagers had walked the crew back to the Going Merry to send you all off. It felt bittersweet slowly watching as their waving hands began to fade until all that was left on every side was the ocean. 

The walk back to the ship had been a challenge you weren’t expecting. What made it even more of a challenge was that Zoro was hellbent on being the only crew member to help you. You wanted to use a walking stick and, instead, ended up piggybacking on the back of one particularly handsome green-haired swordsman. 

Walking the Merry, you inhaled deeply as you moved down the stairs towards the crew’s quarters. The memory of being aboard Arlong’s ship and his hospitality felt like a nightmare. The Merry was your home and as you walked the familiar halls towards your room, it was a fact there was no denying. 

Usopp wanted you to go back to Syrup Village, but dropped the argument. He was outnumbered five to one and, most important of all, you refused to go. The Going Merry was more your home than Syrup Village ever was and the crew inside her walls were your family. 

You were smiling at this revelation when you came across the door to your room ajar. It stopped you dead in your tracks. You knew when you’d left that you had shut the door. Carefully, you took a few cautious steps forward and heard the rustling sound of movement. 

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by Zoro’s back. He was stacking books back on your shelves and continued to do so even after you’d opened the door. 

“I didn’t know you were in the habit of stealing books,” you teased, as you stepped inside your room. 

“I’m not. I used these to read to you while you were…asleep.”

So it had been his voice you’d heard calling to you all those times. While you didn’t always hear the words, you knew the cadence of his voice. The way his tone rasped and grumbled when it’d been out of use. The depth of the baritone when his voice dropped in pitch. It had been Zoro who’d led you back - back to him. 

Zoro still hadn’t turned to look at you and maybe it was for the best. You weren’t exactly sure what your face looked like at the moment. 

“Zoro-“

“Never again.”

You were about to take another step towards him, but the tone of his voice stopped you midstep. He’d finished lining the books back on the shelves and now leaned with his hands pressed against your desk. 

“What?”

“I woke up and you were gone. Not just gone. You were taken.”

“We’ve been over this, Zoro-“

“And we’ll go over it again!” His hand pounded on your desk, causing it to groan before he turned to face you. You were expecting him to be angry, but he didn’t just look angry. He looked broken. A man who had watched someone he cared about be torn to pieces in front of them and wasn’t sure if they would survive. “Well go over this again and again until you get it.”

“Please don’t assault my desk.”

“Doc, I’m being serious. I won’t allow you to do it a second or third time.”

“Allow? And how are you going to keep me from doing it if your thick moss headed self is lying unconscious from an idiotic sword fight, huh?”

This time you did dare to take a step forward. Your index finger jammed into a very hard chest, but you weren’t here to appreciate his chest or the way he towered over you. You wanted to make a point…you just had to remember what that point was when his hand gently reached up and took your wrist to place your hand over his heart. 

“I’m not going down a second time.”

“You don’t know that.”

Gods, why did your voice sound so shaky? Answer: Zoro, with his hand keeping yours pressed to his chest, had taken a step closer. Close enough when you tried to tuck your chin to hide the tears that stung your eyes his finger was there to stop you. He lifted your chin softly up and up until your eyes were locked back on his. 

“I do know that and, because I know that, it also means I’m keeping you close at all times.”

“You can’t make that kind of promise, Zoro.”

You didn’t doubt him. You wouldn’t ever doubt him again, but the memory of watching him go down haunted you even as he stood before you. Whole, but with a few added scars. 

He didn’t answer you right away. His eyes scanned over your face no doubt easily seeing the desperate way you pleaded with him to promise it anyways. 

“I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to stand by your side from now until the end. Through the adventures brought on by our captain or those we make on our own. I’m yours, Doc and you’re mine. I’ll be here for you just like I know you were there for me. I’m not going anywhere.”

If it wasn’t for Zoro’s hand holding yours steadily against his chest you were positive the trembling in your body would’ve spread. With his free hand he brought it up to cup your cheek closing in the last few inches between you. 

His eyes roamed your face - searching - waiting to show him that this was what you wanted. That he was what you wanted. Why couldn’t he see you wanted him without question and with so much urgency. Ever since that day he’d tucked the flower behind your ear looking at you like you’d held his world in the curve of yours lips. 

You’d both been a part of what the other had been searching for and finally found it. 

Zoro must have gotten all the confirmation he needed because he closed the last few inches between you. His kiss started off timid and chaste until he finally let go of your hand and circled his arm around your waist pinning you to him. He was careful to make sure he didn’t press you too harshly against him. His hand firm and careful of all the wounds that still required healing, but a soft gasp you hummed against his lips tested his restraint. 

Just as the kiss began to deepen Luffy’s voice calling for the straw hat’s to assemble for a cast- off ceremony broke you apart. Zoro didn’t completely let you go. His breathing ragged and his eyes still hungrily stared at your lips as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“We better go,” you huffed. “Before he calls again.”

“This better be important or I’m going to mutiny.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“At this point I’m really tempted.”

Gently Zoro reached down and took your hand and led you back down the hallway; back out towards the main of the ship. Sanji had already rolled out a barrel with Nami and the rest all circled around and waiting for you. Each one of you were stationed around the barrel, and just before you could ask what this was about Sanji silently answered you.

Sanji looked around the circle before he lifted up his leg and said, “I’m going to find the All-Blue,” planting his foot on the barrel.

A smirk lifted Luffy’s lips as he lifted up his foot and dropped it with a thud onto the barrel. 

“I’m going to be King of the Pirates.”

For the first time in a long time, you watched a genuine teeth-baring grin spread over Zoro’s face. His own foot coming down next to Sanji’s. 

“I’m gonna be the world’s greatest swordsman.”

Nami looked at you, her eyes the brightest blue, and placed her foot down next to Luffy’s. 

“I’m gonna draw a map of the world.”

Usopp looked at everyone before landing on you. His eyes filled with uncertainty as he knew it was his turn to express what his dream was. You were sure no one had ever asked to know before, but now, Usopp had friends who genuinely wanted to hear it. 

With a sharp inhale he planted his foot on the barrel and yelled, “I am gonna be a great adventurer of the sea!”

It now fell on you. What was your dream? You’d shared it with Luffy once, inside the kitchen of Kaya’s house. You remembered the way he believed in you - believed in all of you. You looked over at Luffy and felt your own smile spread wide until you placed your foot beside Usopp and Zoro’s. 

“I’m gonna be the greatest doctor the world’s ever seen.” 

You looked around the barrel with your legs flowered out around the top and saw what had to be the world’s greatest misfit family. Luffy looked around at all of you, a proud smile worn on his face as he spoke, “This is it crew. The Grand Line. Nothing’s going to stand in our way! Yaaaahoooo!”

If only Luffy knew there was plenty that would stand in the way. None of it would matter, however, not with a crew, a family, like yours. 

As always, Thank you so much for reading! Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

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Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 10

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, idiots to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) The smut has arrived. 

Words: 10.3k

A/N:  Alright y’all. The smut has arrived. Is it any good? Probably fucking not. So I apologize in advance but ya girl tried. Hopefully, as I continue to write intimate scenes for these two idiots, it won’t be such a dumpster fire. That being said, this chapter is a lot more fun, more lighthearted, and (fingers crossed) a good time. Filler chapter part 1 in this series is here and hopefully it’s a good a time as all the rest. And as always: Thank You. For always being so kind and loving my story as much as you do. I hope you all continue to enjoy it 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

p.s. please press play whenever you get to a certain part. You'll know when you get there.

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Warnings: swearing, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids), fingering, virginity taking (?) mentions of past trauma, doc being awkward as hell

You weren’t sure what kind of dream you were having in the beginning. It could’ve been a lovely one. It also could’ve been a terrible one, but that was the beauty of sleep. Sometimes it didn’t have to be accompanied by a dream and just be blissful, peaceful, oblivion. You were willing to bet one of Sanji’s orange tarts that you were sleeping in the last category before a violent jolt shifted you awake.

You thought the Merry was capsizing; a wave had come darting over the side and sent her ass over the stern. Instead, it was Roronoa Zoro who stood at the end of your bed, arms crossed, with a booted foot on the bedframe where said foot had shoved the frame back against the wall. 

“The fuck-”

“Get up.”

“-are you doing in my room?”

Each word was a grumble. You were positive if your eyes could open up, you’d be giving him a glare so potent that it might kill him. Fortunately for Zoro, your eyes were still battling the glaze of sleep. Unfortunately for you, even with your eyes hooded in the shape of a crescent moon, you were painfully aware that he was wearing a beige kimono-style shirt. It was specifically the one you’d mentioned to Nami a few times since leaving the Conomi Islands that was a particular weakness of yours. 

The way the sleeves strained against his biceps - the muscles underneath blatantly on display with his arms crossed. The sinful way the dip of the V-shape exposed your eyes to the tanned chest underneath. A chest you knew very well was as defined as the muscles in his arms. 

“Have you been eavesdropping again?”

It was the only solid reason you could think of for seeing him wear that specific shirt - and ones like it - five times now in the last few days. You didn’t even try to hide your irritation, and Zoro didn’t flinch as it carried over to the noticeable pitch in your tone. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, get up.”

“Of course you don’t,” you mumbled. 

You fell back against the softness of the mattress. A hand scrubbed aggressively over your face in an attempt to try and chase away what fatigue remained. This only resulted in his planted boot giving the frame of your bed another violent shake. 

“Alright, alright! I’m getting up,” you snapped, hurling a pillow in his direction. It wasn’t a shock to watch Zoro easily dodge it. “Has anyone told you how much of a pain in the ass you are?”

“I’ve been told once or twice. Now - up.”

“I am up!”

“You’re still lying there.”

Your hands balled into fists at your sides and it took every ounce of your current self-control not to flail them into the sheets. 

“My god, Zoro, what the hell are you even waking me up for?”

Zoro didn’t bother to remove his boot until he watched your body shift under the sheets. Your arm reluctantly threw back the blankets as you started small shuffles to the edge of the bed grumbling the whole way. It wasn’t until your feet were planted on the wood of your cabin floor that Zoro removed his boot off the bed. 

The cold blank stare he usually wore plastered carefully on his face. A little too careful if anyone cared to ask you. Like he might be enjoying waking you up like a crazy drill sergeant for the Marines. 

As he made his way over to you, he uncrossed his arms and held out his hands for you to take. A pipeline of support that you wanted to smack away because damn him for waking you up when he knew damn well you’d gone to bed late. No matter how childish you wanted to be, however, you couldn’t deny the heat in his eyes made you painfully aware of how close he was. A bed behind you and only a secured upper body wrap holding you together with a pair of shorts were the only things between you. 

You weren’t at a hundred percent yet. The damage Arlong and his men subjected you too was extensive - requiring weeks if not months of upcoming healing. It took you a whole week just to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and not hate what you saw. The rawness of a body now molded and shaped with some scars that would fade over time with some that wouldn’t. 

You weren’t a vain person but…it was a lot. 

There wasn’t any denying the look in Zoro’s eyes but you couldn’t keep your insecurity from flaring to life. It took every fiber of your being not to wrap your middle in a protective hug. Instead, you allowed your hands to slip inside the palm of Zoro’s. He pulled you up quickly, a little too quick, which caused your feet to wobble and your chest to collide with his. 

Your hands landed on his chest to try and steady yourself. Zoro’s own hands fell to your waist to either steady you or -

“You did that on purpose.”

Fuck. Did he always look at you this way? 

In the past few weeks since you’d come back - after the moment inside the tent - an unspoken bond formed between you. It went past sealed limbs and hands that enveloped possessively around flesh. It was an unseen thing that tethered you both to each other. It felt unexplainable the way you knew he was coming before he’d ever entered the room. 

You knew he was behind your door before he’d ever knocked. It was the pause in the shadow under the doorway that gave him away. The sound of a heavy breath shuddering free from a body that was filled with apprehension, which didn’t seem like Zoro at all. 

And while he knew you were his - surely he must know - Zoro entered your space with caution, with timid touches and glances that made sure you knew you held all the control. You, the sun, and him the moon hopelessly moving around your orbit, but somehow, he’d filled every space that used to be empty with nothing but him.

One of them being now. 

In a room full of drying herbs and flowers that cascaded down one side of your room, a few overhead, it should’ve only smelt just like that. The scents of orange blossoms and wisteria mixed with mint. All the smells you’d come to associate with home now mixed with the heady smell of the sea, metals, and the camellia oil Zoro used to sharpen the Wado Ichimonji.

Your space was as much his as it used to be yours.

Zoro didn't answer you or offer up any explanation. His dark eyes only followed your tongue as it wet your bottom lip. His hands gripping your hips a fraction tighter - pulled you in closer. Zoro’s neck craned down to bring his lips closer and you pushed up on your tiptoes - “You and I are training this morning.”

You were going to kill him. 

Your neck was still craned to the side as you scanned his face to see if this was a joke. You waited for a crack in his stern expression to soften with the brightness of his smile. His real one. What you got was that deep gaze that informed you he meant it, and you couldn’t get your eyes to stop blinking back the swear words brewing in your brain. 

“Come again?”

“Training. That’s what we are doing this morning. So, get dressed and meet me on the deck in five.”

To send his message home, Zoro gave your ass a slight smack earning him a squawk of surprise. Your hand absentmindedly rushing up to massage the sting he left just as he released you. If you weren’t shellshocked, you would’ve smacked his arm as he turned and headed for the door. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you chuckled in disbelief. 

“And I can’t believe I’m in love with a woman who screams like a bird.”

“I beg your pardo -“

“Five minutes, Doc. You make me wait more than that and I’ll come back to get you.”

“That sounds less frightening and more exciting than I think you’re going for, Mosshead.”

Zoro stopped, hand on the door before he turned back just enough for you to spot the smirk that was beginning to chase the darkness from his eyes. 

“Five minutes.”

Those were his parting words before he exited your room quietly shutting the door behind him. You stared at where he’d left, your brain trying to make sense of what exactly just took place. One minute, you were blissfully sleeping, and the next you were rubbing out the sting Zoro’s hand left on your ass. Not to mention, you were apparently supposed to train with him in less than five minutes. 

You were going to have to make a quick stop at the kitchen before you met him on deck. 

“No, absolutely not. Go put that back right now.”

You weren’t sure what you would find when you finally made it up on the deck. Sure, you were pre-warned that you were going to be subjected to some form of training. Mentally, you prepared yourself to see the weights Zoro used daily or ropes to launch with your arms in ever-expanding waves with him yelling to send them higher and higher. Your mind created obstacle courses and brutal regimes that were going to leave you begging for a time out; to come back and try another day.

What you didn’t expect to find was Zoro - your Zoro - shamelessly shirtless. 

Gone was his shirt from earlier leaving only the sash that held his sword at his waist, jeans, and his boots. Conveniently, he’d left his bandana wrapped around a bicep that was currently flexed; the hilt of the Wado squeezed tight in his palm as he displayed it at his side.

While you hadn’t been prepared for him to be shirtless, Zoro hadn’t expected you to come out with one of Sanji’s pots.

In your book, that made you even.

You waited until you were only a couple of feet from him before you theatrically lifted it up by the handle and gave it a spin. 

“Put it back,” Zoro demanded.

“Absolutely not,” you replied curtly, allowing yourself to spin the pot inside your palm again. “I think you forget how amazing I am with Lucille.”

“Lucille?”

It was cute watching Zoro’s brow raise in apt horror. His eyes watched as you pretended to get ready to throw the pot like a ball. 

“Yeah - that’s her name. You know, the same way your sword has a name.”

“This sword was given a name by one of the greatest and most influential families to ever exist - alive or dead. You can’t just go around naming your own weapons.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem fair, and saying things like Lucille doesn’t deserve a name will make her cry.”

“Please stop calling the pot Lucille.”

“Oi! Doc! Is that my cooking pot?”

If it had been any other time, any other place, that Sanji interjected himself into, Zoro would’ve looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. Annoyance, a badge of honor he seemed to wear constantly whenever Sanji was present. But, it was your first day of training and here you came, pot in hand, and said cook coming out to reclaim it was the savior Zoro didn’t know he needed.

You could practically see his eyes light up with satisfaction as Sanji stomped his way over to you. 

“She is no longer a cooking pot, Sanji. She is now affectionately known as Lucille.”

Sanji came to a stop beside you. The sleeves of a powder blue dress shirt rolled up his forearms and a fresh cigarette held between his fingers. The other tucked, as per usual, inside the safety of his trousers. He didn’t try to hide the confusion that etched his brows together and, using his free hand, created a line from you to Zoro.

“Oi, Mosshead, you put her up to this?”

With his free hand, Zoro waved off Sanji’s accusation. His hip cocking as he placed the Wado Ichimonji back inside its sheath. Once he knew it was secure, he used it as a perch for his hands. 

You were very aware of the struggle you were having to pay attention to the conversation at hand. It had to do with the pot in your hands that you were no longer fiddling with. Zoro wanted you to put it back, and Sanji was more than happy to remove it from you. That should’ve been your main focus and yet…

Zoro was far more distracting when he wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

Dangerously distracting. You tried to remind yourself you’d seen him shirtless before. Back at Baratie - when none of you were sure he’d make it another night. You’d exposed his chest to the room, stitched his wounds, and cleaned them. 

This was different. 

Back then, Zoro was pale from blood loss. There was no life - no color - to his skin. Not like the way the sun darkened his skin and dusted kisses of freckles over his shoulders. Every cord of muscle in said chest flexed around the diagonal scar that ran from the top of his left peck to the top of his sash. A scar meant to be a lesson now appeared to blend into the skin; a warning to those who sought a challenge. 

A vision of the willpower he possessed to fight even death itself. 

Your gaze was too hungry. You weren’t able to tear your eyes away as he shamelessly flexed the muscles in his forearms that led ever upwards. The way your mouth watered as he turned at his waist, back and forth, to loosen up his back. The movement only put on full display the deep indent that rested between his shoulder blades. 

“Why would I tell her to grab a pot from the kitchen?”

Sanji hadn’t been prepared for his response. He appeared to consider Zoro’s question while he removed his hand from the pocket of his trousers and motioned for you to hand it over. You wish you could say you handed it over with grace, but instead you placed Lucille behind your back.

“Hand it over, Doc.”

“I’m keeping her.”

“It’s my pot,” Sanji reminded you.

“And she deserves better.”

“Excuse me!?”

“Doc, just hand over the damn pot so we can get started.”

No. Nope. You were not pouting. You most definitely weren’t pouting when you glanced at Zoro. You especially weren’t pouting when you gingerly took Lucille from behind your back and placed her handle inside the palm of Sanji’s waiting hand.

“There. Was that so hard?”

“I’ll come back for you,” you whispered to the shiny metal.

Your words only earned you a worried look of concern from Sanji.

“Should I be locking up my pots and pans now? What in the hell is going on?”

Sanji’s question wasn’t directed at you and, if you weren’t still trying to take back the pot from him, you might have been offended. Instead, you allowed the worry Sanji seemed to have for your mental health to fall away while the sound of Zoro’s heavy footsteps making their way across the deck reminded you of the reason you were there. 

“If you’re done messing with the waiter, we have more important things to do.”

You wanted to ask Zoro if he was trying to cause you permanent emotional distress. It had to be the reason he just oh so casually strolled over, still extremely shirtless, very much glistening in the sun with his chest just…out…like that with his wrists resting on the hilt of the Wado. You swore if he so much as tucked a thumb into the sash you were going to combust.

“I can assure you, Mosshead, there is nothing more important to Doc than me.”

“Actually, that would be false,” you cut in around the inhale of breath Zoro was dragging through his teeth. “The most important thing to me is breakfast.”

“I can definitely make a five-star breakfast for one of my favorite girls.“

“We. Are. Training.”

Each syllable knocked against Zoro’s teeth in annoyance. If you didn’t start doing said training soon, you were going to be in the middle of an actual fight. It wouldn’t be the first - or the last - time Sanji and Zoro went at each other with more than just words. 

After the first week of each of them testing the waters of whose presence bothered who the most, they’d ended up coming to blows inside the kitchen. Much to Sanji’s very loud displeasure not only had Zoro’s forehead scuffed Sanji’s recently polished boot, but he’d simultaneously ruined dessert. 

Now Sanji did whatever he could to agitate Zoro, and Zoro did the same. And Sanji’s favorite way to agitate Zoro? Well, that was to irritate him by using you in practically every available reference. 

Because of this, a sharp exhale exited your body as you gently patted a chest you forgot was bare. Very bare. 

Ignore it. Move on. We are moving on…

“Alright. Yes, we are about to train. So, let’s…train away. That way.” 

You directed Zoro to turn around with your hands secured on his shoulders for extra measure. You waited until you were both far enough away from Sanji before you released Zoro, only to find Sanji now seated on a crate. 

Great. Just what you definitely didn’t need - an audience. 

“Alright, Sensei,” you said, voice full of apprehension. “Train away.”

This was punishment. It had to be because you couldn’t imagine any sane human being subjecting themselves to doing this for longer than an hour. First, Zoro made you sprint to the front and back of the Merry ten times. While, at the time, ten felt like such an easy, if not silly, number and you’d mentioned it to him. 

“How am I supposed to work up a sweat going around only ten times? I’m not a baby.”

As it turns out you were, in fact, a baby. 

A giant one by the sounds your lungs audibly made as your legs struggled up a set of stairs. If you’d been smarter and taken the smirk of challenge that rose to his lips as a warning, maybe you would’ve kept your mouth shut. Maybe Zoro would’ve taken pity on you and allowed you a drink of water when you finished, instead of immediately handing you two forearm length pieces of bamboo. 

“What the hell is this?”

Each word squeezed between a ragged breath. You were trying to remain stoic; composed. What you ended up with was your head thrown back, your mouth greedily gulping for air, and eyes shut tight against the sun. 

“Bamboo sticks.”

God, sometimes Zoro was so matter-of-fact you weren’t sure if he was pulling your leg for shits and giggles or if he’d removed his sense of humor. 

“Yes, Mosshead, I see that they are bamboo sticks. No Katana for me?”

“You’re a little clumsy for a Katana -“

“Well, that’s rude,” you mumbled between shifting the weight of one stick in your hand. 

“-you don’t hold your balance well. So, I figured Kenpo sticks might serve you better. To be able to hold any weapon for a long period of time, however, you’re going to have to train the muscles in your arms. Whether it’s holding them or swinging them for extended periods of time. That being said, you’re going to swing each stick five hundred times.”

A whistle from the Northern side of the deck cut across your stunned silence. A reminder that while you’d been struggling to run a few laps, you’d gained an audience. 

“I don’t know Zoro,” started Usopp, “I myself am pretty well-versed in hand-to-hand combat but even that seems…a lot for someone’s first time.” 

Of course, none of you were going to mention that Usopp’s combat consisted of his slingshot or running. You were sure if anyone did, he would’ve chalked it up to being one of the first snipers to ever be able to shoot while running in the East Blue. 

Zoro didn’t appear to be moved by Usopp’s words. His shoulders shrugged them off as he moved closer to you, his hands wrapped around the sticks. It was the fifth time held corrected you in over two minutes since you’d started. Not that you were counting or anything. 

Fuck, your arms were already starting to burn. 

“Pain is weakness leaving the body.”

“If you say, ‘mind over matter,’ next I’m lacing your next dinner with a laxative,” you warned. 

Zoro didn’t appear to be the least bit phased by your most recent threat. His eyes drifted back to watching your form and the way you swung the Kenpo sticks. If you didn’t stop at a full ninety-degree angle, he was going to add on another fifty swings to make up for the ones that weren’t right. 

“Can we please move on to something else before my arms fall off?”

You didn’t care if you sounded desperate. You felt fucking desperate, at this point in your life. You were pretty sure if you kept this up your arms were just going to refuse to work. You needed your arms. They were very vital in being able to be a person. Like eating food, that your stomach loudly reminded you that you needed. 

“It sounds to me like Doc is in need of that breakfast she mentioned earlier,” Sanji called. 

“I could definitely take a second breakfast,” Luffy cut in, his arm raised for added effect. 

“You’ll take seconds of anything,” Nami quipped, earning her a smile from the Straw Hat pirate. 

“And that is why I put a lock on the pantry.”

“There was a lock?”

It was Sanji’s absolute look of horror at Luffy’s confusion that sent you into a giggle fit. One that ended as quickly as it began when Zoro used the covering of the Wado to wack against your thigh. Just like he had that night back at Baratie. 

“What the hell was that for?!”

“You dropped your arms. I’ll add another hundred if you don’t resume your position in the next five seconds.”

You felt your eye twitch - you couldn’t make it stop. You were sure it meant you were either going to have a mental breakdown or worse. Zoro didn’t seem to be worried about either option. His eyes expectantly watched to see what your choice was going to be. 

Suddenly, you were back in your room being woken up by the very same madman in front of you. All you wanted was to sleep in. Maybe add in a little breakfast with the stuffed French toast Sanji had been spoiling you with the last couple of days. 

But no. 

No, you were trapped out on the deck with your crazy demon pirate three-sword-wielding boyfriend. To bring this home, your stomach gave another loud growl and your hands went flailing around in front of you.

“Ugh, Doc. What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m fighting ghosts,” you deadpanned. “What does it look like, Usopp?”

“It looks painful. Are you supposed to be breathing that hard?”

Usopp was right. You were breathing hard. Whether it was from your impromptu tantrum or something else, you weren’t sure. 

“Are you done?”

And then there was Zoro. 

Mr. Composed himself standing there waiting for you to finish. He’d crossed his arms over his chest leaving his perky chest and all his perky muscles on full display. If it wasn’t for your growling stomach it might’ve been enough to distract you. 

A low whistle came from your audience drawing Zoro’s attention away from you. 

“Who knew Zoro was such a masochist?”

“I am not a masochist!” 

“I don’t know, Mosshead. You do seem to be getting off on keeping Doc away from food.”

“I am not.”

“Me doth think the lady protests too much,” Sanji teased, his tongue working around the toothpick he’d placed between his lips. 

“And I think the waiter should get back to the kitchen.”

“Okay, okay!” Nami interjected, jumping off the crate she sat on moments ago. “How about a compromise? Doc gets to eat and as soon as she does, Zoro, you can go back to training her until her arms fall off.”

“I’d like to keep my arms and any other future appendages if that’s alright with everyone,” you added. 

It was a shot in the dark. One you were grateful to Nami for taking. If anyone stood a chance at letting you get even a smidge of breakfast, it was going to be the ship's resident thief and smooth talker extraordinaire. 

But Zoro wasn’t just anyone and he was rarely swayed. Immune to everything on the planet that didn’t come with an alcohol percentage rate. 

And just like that, an idea so ingenuous crept up on you that it almost sent you jumping in place. 

“Or how about this, Zoro,” you began, “the next time we dock, I’ll not only buy you unlimited drinks at the nearest bar. I’ll also buy you a case of whatever you want.”

You tried to keep the hope out of your voice. Unless it tipped Zoro off how truly desperate you were for Sanji to feed you. Who knew what kind of add-ons he would make to an already painfully expensive offer. 

It didn’t take long for you to spot the flare of interest in his eyes. The only tell you needed to know you had him right where you wanted. Your stomach had never been more grateful. 

“Unlimited drinks, two cases of whatever I want, and when you finish with breakfast we pick up where you left off.” 

“Deal.”

It felt like days had passed while you soaked in the heat of the tub. The world has sped by in a rush of sunlight and the salt air of crashing waves to the overwhelming dusk of night. 

You’d stayed so long inside the water your fingers ripened to raisins. Even then, you would’ve continued to stay housed inside the steam and heat until the aches and pains liquified into nothing. 

The training with Zoro had been welcome, but unexpected. It felt good to not be treated like fine china. As if the slightest tap or mention of your wounds that seemed to be taking longer to heal would rip you back open. It was starting to drive you mad. You were close to reminding them that you were…different. 

The question of just what and who you were unanswered. An unmistakable unanswered question with possibly no answers and then, like magic, Zoro showed up in your room demanding for you to train.

Both of you knew it was a compromise. One that didn’t need explanation. Since his vow in the tent, Zoro had made it very clear he meant every word. While he gave you space (sometimes too much of it) he was never far away from you. If you were tending to Nami’s tangerine trees, he was out on the upper deck, body relaxed and stretched like a cat soaking up the sun. The times he was training, he would stop and see where you were. 

No matter where you were on the ship, Zoro was drawn to find you. You weren't exactly sure how it was going to go when the Merry finally docked, but you could only imagine how fun that was going to be. 

Zoro taking the time to train you wasn’t meant for you, not really, anyway. It was a way for him to know, without a doubt, if you were ever separated, you would be safe. 

“I can’t lose you, Doc.”

The baritone of his voice felt heavier in the space between your rooms. You noticed it in the way his hand gripped the hilt of the Wado just a little too tightly. The muscles in his jaw grinding to a halt against his teeth. 

It had been this way since you’d been back on the Merry. The moment in your room a fading memory. You wanted to ask him why he never knocked again - why he never came back inside to finish what Luffy interrupted that day. 

Zoro’s lips claimed yours with the intensity of a fire and had left you to burn at their loss. 

As the days turned to a week and the week began another, the bruises and wounds began to heal. Some of them leave violent reminders of what you’d endured. The sob that had racked through your body like a great wave of grief echoed through you still as you looked at your back in the mirror. Ugly marks you knew would never fully go away; gnarled patches of flesh that told a story you wish you could forget. 

You hated your mind for telling you this was why Zoro never came back. Who would want to touch a broken thing?

“You can never lose me, Zoro.” Your reply was hushed, spoken to the space between your shoes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I almost lost you. Didn’t I?” There it was. The anger. The heat of an old fear that burned its way into something feral. “A few minutes longer,  midwife too short, and you wouldn’t be here and I would know a loss greater than any damn gods could fix.”

The memory of that moment trapped between your bedroom doors played on repeat in your mind as you stepped out of the bath. Your hands quickly grab a towel to wrap around yourself and make sure it was secure. 

You weren’t worried when you stepped out from behind the bathroom door if you would run into anyone. Dinner had long since been served, the late-night conversations all but died, and the quiet lap of water against the Merry was the only sound to greet you. Still, you couldn’t help but look both ways down the hallway before you made your way towards your room. 

You’d just made it to your door, hand on your doorknob, when the sudden cold air of a door - Zoro’s door - whooshing open made your body freeze in place. 

“It took you seventeen minutes longer than usual to get back to your room tonight. What’s going on?”

Never mind the fact that you were standing exposed in just a towel in the middle of the hallway. You could even disregard - maybe - the fact that Zoro was standing in the doorway to his room with his arm against the frame, shirtless (my god did he run out of clean shirts?!) with his usual carefully maintained hair looking like his fingers ran through it more than a few times. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice quipped on the word, “but have you been timing me?”

“Answer the question.”

“You answer my question first! And why are you just standing like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like -,” you waved a hand from his feet to his head for added emphasis, “- that.”

Zoro watched your hand as it flew around like a rather large fly on crack. If you were a gambling person, you might have placed a bet on the fact he found you very amusing right now. More amusing than you would’ve liked. 

“What does that even mean? How do you want me to stand?”

“Not like that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is me standing like this bothering you?”

You could practically feel your eyes narrowed to slits when he leaned deeper against the arm on the doorframe. The action making the muscles in his stomach become more pronounced and his pants sling lower against the deep V of his hips -

“You absolutely did that on purpose,” you seethed. 

You weren’t expecting him to take a step out from the safety of his door frame. That one step was all Zoro needed to completely take up the small space in the hallway leaving you with only two options: move back or stand your ground. Your body was screaming for you to pick the first option, but Naan didn’t raise a coward. So, when Zoro’s arm reached behind you to brace himself on your door, completely closing the space between you, you tried your absolute best to act like you were fine. 

You were very much aware you were only in a towel and Zoro was casually standing there in only a hastily thrown-on pair of pants. His face mere inches away from yours. You wouldn’t be surprised if he caught the sound of your heart thundering wildly in your chest or heard the very prominent, Fuck, that was bouncing through your head in time with your nerves. 

The desire Zoro stirred in you, that you’d buried down the last few weeks, came roaring back to the surface with a vengeance. You - he - was playing with fire and with every inch his body took into your space, you weren’t sure you’d have the strength to not plead for him to stay. Every second his body drew closer to yours, every cell in yours came to life with a need so violent it almost buckled you at the knees.

“You’re cute when you blush.” The whispered words hovered between you. His chest now pressed against the hand that clutched at the towel while he opened the door behind you. “Get inside.”

You couldn’t make your body move. You wanted to stay there enveloped in the heat of his body for just a few seconds more. The rising smirk in the corner of his mouth informing you that Zoro was very aware of this. 

“I’m not blushing.”

“Sure, you always walk around with a pink tint to your cheeks, Snowdrop,” he hummed. “Now get in.”

The use of your new pet name was what sent you walking back inside your room. It was different than when he called you by your nickname. His tone unbothered, as if he could be talking to anyone. It wasn’t as intimate as when he spoke your real name. The way his voice deepened and rolled your name off his tongue like it was his greatest sin. 

No. Snowdrop was soft. Innocent. Private. Just for him. 

You expected him to tell you good night before he shut the door. It was the nightly routine you’d come to expect. Zoro waiting in the purgatory between both of your rooms. Always present, but never crossing. You held your breath, waiting to hear the richness of his voice cascade down your spine as intimately as if he’d touched you. You watched him while you took a few more steps inside the safety of your room; eyes never wavering off him as your fist curled against the fabric of your towel. 

It wasn’t until he’d stepped inside, the door firmly closing behind him, that you realized this time was different. The only thing that helped quiet your racing heart was the uncertainty that laced itself into the crease of his brow. His eyes roaming over your towel-clothed figure as if he just realized it was all you wore. 

You wanted to go back to earlier this morning when you considered maiming him with a pillow. When Zoro was in the middle of being his usual strong silent type self who was ordering you around. You preferred it over a room that suddenly felt too small and unspoken words that left so much longing to hammer against your chest. 

Zoro ran a hand through his hair, somehow making it messier than it was a second ago, before tucking his hands into the safety of his pockets. Any other time it would’ve been innocent. At the weight of his fists, however, the stretch band at the waist gave way dipping lower to show the beginning peak of moss-green hair. 

Your body seemed to forget how to swallow. The action caused you to cough around a ball of spit that got caught in your throat. 

“Where do you keep the Alderberry?”

How could he ask questions right now? How could Zoro be so composed? You felt like you were three seconds away from combusting. 

“Why?”

The sound of his bare feet taking a cautious step forward sent your pulse spiking against your neck. Gods, please, don’t let him notice. 

But he was Roronoa Zoro. The Demon Pirate Hunter and soon to be the Greatest Swordsman who ever lived. Of course, he noticed. 

“I know Nami usually helps you put it on at night. You were in the bath so long she went to sleep.”

Damn. Just how long had you been hiding in the bath? 

Nami usually did help you every night. Her hands were the only ones you trusted to rub in the Alderberry ointment on the places you couldn’t reach. Your back being the biggest target area. There was a comfort in knowing only one person aboard the ship took inventory of every wound currently healing on your body. The way Nami teased how Zoro was probably seething in a jealous fit across the way knowing she was seeing more of you than he did. 

It was easy to take her playfulness and meet it with a dismissive one. Easy to pretend around the comfort of being in her presence that deep down you believe the opposite. 

And now here Zoro stood encapsulated in the darkness of your room. The only light came from the window of moonlight that cascaded like a kaleidoscope across his face and shoulders. All his usual carefully crafted composure, the ‘I don’t give a fuck,’ bravado that rolled off him in waves was stripped away. 

Here inside your room, Roronoa Zoro wasn’t the three-sword fighting style demon who terrified dozens of pirates. 

In your room, he was just a boy who looked at you like you’d hung the stars. 

“Oh,” you huffed out in a shaky breath, “Yeah, uhm, it’s over there on the middle shelf to the left.”

Zoro didn’t wait to see where you pointed. His feet padded over to one of the many shelves that lined the small room his eyes scooping out the shelf until they spotted a small circular tin. You’d painted a cluster of tiny Alderberries on the lid, and just that small detail alone sent a ghost of a smile to arch the corner of Zoro’s lips. 

“You know, you’re the only doctor I know who categorizes all of their medicine with pictures instead of labels.”

His voice barely registered as he spoke. The richness of his voice only seemed to grow deeper, gruffer, when he talked in hushed tones. You hated how your body reacted to the intimacy of the sound. Your eyes helplessly watched as he moved towards you, his fingertips slowly moving the cylinder of ointment between them. 

“I prefer my drawings to ugly labels.”

“But what if someone comes in and grabs the wrong one?”

“Well, I guess they better learn how to ask first before taking anything,” you chided. 

You tried your best to sound like Naan. The way she would scold you for trying to sneak sweets before dinner. It appeared that your attempt at sounding like an ornery old woman only succeeded in making him smile so big his teeth showed. Immediately, Zoro ducked his chin down towards his chest to try and hide it. 

It took every ounce of strength you had not to reach out to grab ahold of his chin and force him to give it back. 

“Alright, Snowdrop. Turn around for me.”

At the mention of showing him your back, your body went rigid. You hoped he didn’t notice, but it was Zoro. Of course, he noticed. 

And of course, he took it the wrong way. 

“I’m sorry. I know it’s probably easier having Nami -“

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly cut in. 

You tried to wave away his apologetic words. He had nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t his fault you ended up with wounds like this, and it wasn’t his job to heal you. It just came down to the fear of rejection, the looks of pity or disgust, that kept you hostage inside your own head. 

With a shaky breath, you steeled yourself, turning to expose your back to him. Well, as exposed as it could be with the towel covering up past your shoulders. You waited in the heavy silence of the room with apprehension threatening to eat you alive as your eyes roamed the room. You examined every shelf, every strand of hanging flowers as if it was the first time you’d ever seen its contents. 

It felt like you were waiting forever for him to do something, anything, that you felt your nerves begin to buckle. At any minute, you would turn around and tell him nevermind. It was a kind gesture but maybe this was a mistake. You were in the middle of formulating a good enough excuse to give him when the warm pad of his palm on your shoulder sent you jumping out of your skin.

A chuckle rolled from deep in his chest, and you wanted to turn around and punch him. 

“You did that on purpose.”

“I seem to be doing a lot of things on purpose today.”

“If the shoe fits,” you grumbled.

You were prepared this time when his fingers touched down on your skin. Every nerve helplessly followed the path they took as they brushed the drying strands of wet hair out of the way. The calloused pads of his fingertips dipped underneath the fabric of the towel and gave it a small tug. 

“Relax.” 

Fuck. 

He breathed the word against your ear and you couldn’t keep the soft gasp from escaping from between your lips. You prayed the moonlight from your window didn’t show him the goosebumps that one word had elicited across your skin. Your body was a traitor who answered the roaming pads of his hands with a heat that pooled low in the pit of your stomach. 

There was no denying your pulse was thundering beneath your skin, and you wondered if Zoro could see it. If the tips of his fingers felt it as they mapped down from your throat and moved to push the towel low, and lower until he had the cloth down to the middle of your back. His index and middle fingers ran down the length of your spine and your body involuntarily shuddered against him. 

No longer did you care about ointments or salves. You wanted - needed - him to touch you. If Zoro needed to hear you plead and beg, if it was enough for him to release the growing pressure that was building between your legs, you would gladly do it. 

It wasn’t until you heard the sharp whistle of air sliding between his teeth that you remembered what it was he was looking at. You tried to draw the towel back up, to turn back around to face him, but Zoro’s strong hand on your shoulders kept you rooted in place. 

“What are you doing?”

“You don’t have to do this. I appreciate it, but I know it can be a lot - “

“- Doc.” 

“I can go a night without the ointment. Really, Zoro, it's fine.”

“Will you shut up for one second and just talk to me?”

If he could see your face right now he would know you were more than a little confused on how to go about answering that question. 

“Ugh, how am I supposed to simultaneously talk and shut up at the same time?”

He let out a sigh and you felt his forehead drop between your shoulder blades. 

“Poor choice of words,” he groaned.

“I would have to agree.”

“Doc -“

“Zoro?”

Yes, you knew you were being a pain in the ass but, to be incredibly fair, so was he. At the feeling of his teeth nipping at the skin of your back, you tried to swing an elbow back and was rewarded with him simply holding you in place. 

“Be good.”

“Says the one that just bit me.”

Another sigh and his forehead found a home between your shoulders. As if you were the only pain in the ass in this relationship. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

No. 

How could you? It felt like too much and yet, not enough all at once. You didn’t want to tell him that the minute you’d heard him suck in a breath, no doubt from looking at your exposed back, it felt like all your worst fears were real. Zoro finally took one look at some of the damage - damage that replayed throughout your body - and thought the same thing as you. 

You were ruined.

You knew you were still healing. Wounds like these…they took time. No ointment, herb, treatment, or the magic that was scattered across the whole wide ocean would fix you up in a matter of days. So, why did you feel so ugly? So undeserving? 

How did you tell anyone that, when you looked in the mirror, you no longer saw yourself but the monster Arlong created. 

“I know it’s a lot to…look at. I appreciate you wanting to do this for me, Zoro, but I understand if it’s too much. If it’s too ugly.”

You anticipated the feeling of his body removing itself from yours. You counted the seconds and prepared your heart to be ready for the rejection you already thought was coming. It was too much to ask, to look at someone so damaged, and love them like they were whole. 

His answer came with the press of his lips against the hollow of your throat. A sound between a moan and gasp left you. Your mind trying to make sense of the sensation as he gently left another a few inches lower. 

You both stood trapped and unmoving in place. Your back facing him with his mouth hovering over your skin. His breath ghosted over your skin causing you to shiver against his chest. A hand held on to your waist, while the other held you at your shoulder. His thumb worked its way between the towel and your skin, slowly getting you to release the tight hold you kept on the fabric. 

The hushed sound of your name - reverent and full of sin - brushed against your ear. You tried to fight off a shiver but felt your body shake in his hands. The anticipation brought to life an all too familiar ache for his touch. You’d become accustomed to that specific need since the moment you’d met. 

To be coveted the way he coveted his swords; an extension of who he was. 

You didn’t fight him as his fingers gently worked the towel back down. You didn’t try and hide again as his fingers caressed down the exposed skin and stopped at the median of your back. Zoro’s fingers delicately worked over the indents of healing flesh; traced over jagged lines of cuts that zigzag up and at odd angles. He touched them like he was committing each slight against your flesh to memory. 

“Doc,” his lips pressed against your throat. “You’re perfect.”

You bit down on your lip to contain a sob. Your chest heaved as his fingers found their way up to the place you hated the most. Where Arlong branded you and, where later, he’d branded you again with fire and metal. 

“What’s this?”

You didn’t have to see him to know Zoro’s brow had creased together in curiosity. If he’d seen it before the molten poker that’d been placed across your skin, he’d know what the tattoo originally was. 

“It was a brand from Arlong to show ownership - that I was part of the crew. I belonged to him.” Zoro’s hand grew still as you spoke. The hand on your hip gripping you so tight you were sure there would be bruises. “That’s what it was until they…they took something metal - a poker or something - to my back.”

A few moments passed before you felt his thumb gently move over the healing skin. You followed the path they took, inching upwards, closer and closer to what was there now. 

“This looks like…”

Zoro didn’t finish his sentence. His words edged with a softness until they faded between you. The realization of what it was now stilled his thumb from tracing over it again. 

“Like a snowdrop,” you finished for him. “It is. After - after everything, Nojiko came by the hut. She told me she fixed Nami’s tattoo and offered to fix mine. I didn’t know what else to pick so…”

His thumb traced the outline of the flower across your skin. A shiver rippled through you but it wasn’t from the cold. Your room suddenly felt too quiet and it left you feeling exposed. Surely, Zoro knew the only reason why you picked it. A good memory to try and wash out all the bad. 

The silence was becoming unbearable. You didn’t know what to say next to fix it, but you had to say - do - something or else you would go mad. 

“Zoro -“

All words, all thought, ceased the minute the hand that had gripped your hip pushed you back against him. Gone were the small inches of distance Zoro created at your back.  The desire that had been building, that you tried to ignore, flared to life between you. 

A hunger like you never experienced before washed over your skin. It only grew more ravenous as Zoro gave one final, violent tug on the towel, ripping it free from your hands and tossed it to the floor. It left you open, exposed, to the room. 

To him.

He didn’t give you time to try and recover any modesty. 

Zoro’s hand that was at your waist snaked up to wrap an arm around your middle keeping you pinned against him. The other that had traced the outline of your snowdrop tattoo drifted up to grab a hold of your chin. Gently, he used it to crane your neck to the side leading your mouth to his. 

Zoro’s lips brushed against yours tentatively, with caution, as if he applied too much pressure you might run. It only earned him a needy breath that dipped in your chest. The motion causes the fingertips of the hand at your waist to skim the soft skin. 

It was such a light touch - innocent - except it wasn’t. 

A moan rushed past your lips, and all that careful restraint Zoro prided himself for evaporated along with his control.

The gentle fingers that cupped your chin now pressed firmly against your throat, craning your head back to rest against his shoulder. The angle allowed him to place a bruising kiss on your lips. His tongue broke the soft seal your lips created between you to stroke across yours; coaxing you to deepen the kiss and devour you from the mouth down. 

One minute the hand at your throat was there, commanding, keeping you where he wanted and the next it glided down your chest. The pads of his fingers skimmed over a breast, teasing your nipple before he trapped it between his thumb and index finger. You pressed yourself back against him, your body grinding, straining, for any sort of friction to relieve the growing ache he made between your legs. 

Gods, you could barely think past the wanton sob that crawled its way up your throat. The sound hummed against your shared kiss in a plea against Zoro’s mouth. He answered with a growl that seared his ownership across your skin. 

Your senses were flooded with him. His touch was electric and overwhelming and you found yourself clutching onto him like a woman drowning. You laced your fingers in his hair to try and anchor yourself, but when a digit of his own slid between your folds your knees buckled. 

Zoro held you firmly to him. Easily holding up your weight as the pad of his finger rubbed a lazy slow circle over your clit. A moan tore your lips apart as you rocked against him. You barely registered the soft nip of his teeth on your shoulder when that finger, slick with your arousal, pushed itself inside you.

Another throaty moan filled your room. The sound echoed relentlessly off the walls with each thrust of his wrist. You scrambled to find an anchor - to find something to keep you present. But the desire that crushed you, made you open your legs wider for him, to fuck you deeper, spread you wider, refused to be held down. Your nails dig into his forearm in a weak attempt to keep yourself grounded. 

You never felt so wanton before - so ravenous. Your hips beginning to move on their own. Hungrily meeting each thrust of his fingers with a rock of your hips pushing the digit deeper inside you. 

“My good girl,” Zoro purred against your ear. “You can take another finger for me, can’t you?”

You weren’t sure if you could trust your voice. Your tongue wetting your lips as you gave him a nod. Zoro didn’t wait for you to do anything else. On the next thrust, you felt a sear of pain, just enough to rend a gasp from your throat that transformed into a moan. 

You felt so full. So incredibly full as his fingers moved against your walls, pushing deeper, curling, and reaching until they found something that turned your next moan into a stuttering breath. Zoro felt it too. The way your walls tightened around him. The muscles in your legs struggled to keep from buckling. His thumb moved circles around your clit and you tried to be quiet. Truly, you did. 

But the pressure was building. The heat low in your belly expanding - threatening to explode. 

“Zoro,” you panted out his name. 

A plea. Praise. Worship. All or none of it you weren’t sure. But he answered his name with his teeth claiming the skin of your shoulder and biting down just enough that the pain blended in with the pleasure. 

“Come for me,” he demanded. Your name left his mouth like a man in rapture. “Be my good girl and come for me.”

With another flick of his thumb - a stroke of his fingers - you felt that molten heat that’d been growing between your legs erupt. An explosion of white behind your eyes as you bucked back against him. His arm held you steady until your orgasm began to subside. 

Slowly, Zoro removed his fingers from between your thighs - fingers and hand slick. With his arm still securely wrapped around your waist, he moved you towards the bed. When your knees touched down on the mattress, you turned to look up at him. Your hands went grabbing at the hem of his jeans. 

“We don’t have to -“ he started.

The hand not coated in your arousal grabbed at your wrist to stop you. You kept your eyes on him as your fingers undid a button and moved on to the zipper. 

“Please.” Your voice was raw. Overused. But you would use it to beg him if it got you what you wanted. “I need to feel you inside me, Zoro. I -“

Zoro didn’t give you a chance to finish. His answer came in the form of a growl. His hands pushed you down onto the mattress as he finished removing himself of his jeans. He braced one knee on the frame of the bed. A hand beside your head as he moved himself between your legs. 

His hand hooked itself beneath your knee and brought your thigh to rest against his hip. You could feel the weight of his cock - warm and heavy - on your stomach. The apprehension of the unknown - would it hurt? - weighed heavy in your thoughts for a moment. A searing kiss from Zoro quickly tore it away as he easily moved further up the bed. Your thigh still held tightly to his hip. 

Zoro reached down between the length of your bodies, his hand grabbing his cock to align with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your orgasm, and teasing your swollen clit. A moan tore your lips and, at this moment, Zoro pushed inside you. 

The sear of pain was immediate as your cunt stretched to accommodate him. Zoro was thick - so impossibly thick. With each thrust, the feeling of fullness grew. His hips worked slowly - in and out - coating his length, inch by aching inch with your arousal. 

“You okay?”

You hadn’t realized you’d screwed your eyes shut tight until he’d spoken. When you opened them it took you a second to tell he’d stopped. His body suspended above you, eyes searching your face, waiting for you to tell him what to do. 

Your head was already shaking before you found your voice. A soft, “yes,” fills the intimate space between you. You reached up to place your hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing over his lips as he’d done with your tattoo, before saying it again. 

“Don’t stop.”

You pulled him down into a kiss as he pulled out just enough to slide back in. Another moan vibrated across your lips, but neither of you pulled away. With one final thrust, you felt him bottom out inside you. It was Zoro this time who broke his lips away from yours. A guttural moan, half-desperate, collapsed from his chest. 

And then he was a man undone. His hips recklessly fucking into you. His fingers in your hair. His lips pressed half-breathed kisses along your jaw. Slowly, with each thrust of his hips, the pain ebbed away and all that was left was the fullness. His cock stroking your walls and fingers bruising your thighs as he found a relentless rhythm. 

Soon, the earlier pressure you’d felt began to build again. Zoro’s own breathing growing ragged as he fucked up into you. With each stroke of his cock, the pressure built and built until you forgot how to breathe. Your walls clenching tight around him. 

Zoro’s hand reached up, lashing out violently, to grab the headboard. You heard the faint sound of wood splinting but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Your muscles were shaking, tightening, and with the next stroke that sent your body scooting up the bed, you came undone beneath him. Zoro spilling inside you as your cunt squeezed around him.His own breathing hoarse, jagged, and fingers tightening with a bruising force into your hip. 

Zoro collapsed on top of you and you were reminded of how heavy he was. Like an avalanche crumbled around you in the form of a moss-haired oaf. 

So much for the afterglow. 

“Zoro,” you wheezed, your hand tapping his shoulder frantically. “Zoro, you - you gotta move. You're heavy.”

You were aware he was still sheathed inside you - that he didn’t seem to be moving any time soon. A grumble came at your neck tickling the skin. It earned him another smack to his shoulder as you rasped, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop talking into my neck.”

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“It tickles.”

Silence followed your admission. You weren’t sure what kind of…etiquette came after…being intimate. Were you supposed to rub his back? Pat it? No, that felt too much like telling someone, ‘Good game’. What you settled on felt worse. You drummed your fingers on his shoulder.

“Doc.”

“Yeah?”

“Relax.”

Your fingers stilled at his words. You didn’t know where else to look except up. The ceiling wasn’t really brimming with things to help keep you occupied either, which is how you ended up humming a tune. You were midway through the chorus when a gust of hot air hit your neck. 

Zoro grumbled as he moved his arms beside you, slowly lifting himself up until he was hovering over you. Gods, you didn’t know what came over you, but you couldn’t stop the sheepish smile from curling your lips as your finger waved a, “Hello,” at him.

Zoro shook his head, maybe to hide the smile you won at your antics, but also because you were being, well, you. He unsheathed himself from between your legs (was it supposed to immediately ache like this?) and settled down beside you. 

Lifting up his arm, Zoro waited for you to scoot closer before settling it across your shoulders, pulling you in close to his chest. You wanted to inform him that he was a very firm pillow. You wanted to say a lot of things. A part of you not knowing if it was anxiety that was making you overthink or -

There was no mistaking the heavy sigh that came a few seconds later. With your chin planted on his chest, you glanced up and noticed that Zoro’s eyes were closed, or they were, that is until they opened. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

You turned to face his stomach, your cheek resting on an incredibly perky chest and tried to pretend your teeth weren’t worrying away at your lip. 

“Doc -“

“Okay, fine,” you huffed, rising up on your elbow. “I was just wondering: can we have sex? Again?”

The high sound of his laugh, rich and innocent and joyful bounced around the room. You wished you could bottle this moment forever and live inside it. 

“When?”

“Now would be nice. Unless, you know, you’re too tired.” 

You tried to appear innocent as you looked up at him. By the way, his eyes narrowed in on your face, you probably looked anything but innocent. 

“Oh, I’ll be just fine. It’s you I’ll be worried about.”

“And why is that?”

“We have training bright and early in the morning.”

“Absolutely no- !”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before Zoro rolled you over. His hips settled between your thighs, and with one swift thrust had your argument dying with a moan from your lips. 

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

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7 Rings | 03

♛ pairing: taehyung/reader

♛ genre: richboy!taehyung | blackmailer!reader | infiltration au | eventual smut | angst | fluff 

♛ rating: mature

♛ word count: 7,000+ 

♛ warnings for this chapter : light descriptions of anxious behavior (but nothing intense)

♛ summary: In desperate need of money, you and your best friend come up with a plan to infiltrate one of Seoul’s richest families, the Kim family. The plan was simple, garner some money and disappear, but of course things don’t always go as planned. Especially not with someone like Kim Taehyung.

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em.❞

♛ chapter index/masterlist || series masterlist

Chapters⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

Present Day: Thursday Morning.

This was not supposed to happen, no, no, no. This was not what was planned, rehearsed, nor memorized. No, no, no!

You anticipate for him to scream, to snap at you and tell you off in front of everyone. It seemed fitting for someone like him to do, it’s what you expected.

You could feel all eyes on you, the venue itself had gone deaf silent, almost as if everyone else was holding their breath along with you, waiting to see your demise. You couldn’t blame them, you had spilled your drink on one of the most prestigious guests here, and though it wasn’t as if the world was going to end because of this, to you it felt like it. Your “mission” was going to end before it could even start.

Panic immediately overwhelms you. This was not at all how this was supposed to go. You wanted, no, you needed words to come out of your mouth, to say something, anything, but you couldn’t. Your mouth was completely frozen in place, and all you could do at the moment was stare at the big blob of red on his white buttoned up shirt, to which you were at fault for. Slowly you watch his mouth open, your mind immediately beginning to think the worst, but what comes out of his mouth completely surprises you.

He laughs.

The formation of a boxy smile takes its place on his face, his eyes now crinkling out of sheer laughter, and his hand now covering a portion of his face.

“I really didn’t mean to do that, oh my—” you finally blurt out, quickly grabbing a napkin and beginning to uselessly blot onto the already bleeding stain, but almost immediately feeling a hand grab at yours, stopping you from what you were doing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassures, slowly pushing your hand away from his shirt.

You immediately shake your head, your words now faltering in cohesion, “No it’s not, I r-really didn’t mean to do that, I just—”

“And I’m telling you it’s okay,” he repeats himself, “I think you’ve done the most interesting thing around here in a very long time,” he whispers, sticking his hand out for you to shake, “I’m Taehyung,” he introduces himself, as if you didn’t know who he was.

The words themselves come out exactly like how Yuna would imitate during “rehearsal”. Though his voice was of course much deeper, almost reminding you of silk, seductive in it’s own way. You finally look up to see him, to actually see him face to face, immediately feeling your face get red.

It surprised you really, you had seen Kim Taehyung a countless number of times on TV, on several gossip blog headlines, posters, magazine covers, and an endless number of promotional advertisements all across Korea, but wow did they do him no justice. The man was truly stunning, and with every passing second you made eye contact with him, you could see why he was South Korea’s most sought out person.

From the sharp facial features, to the slightly sun-kissed skin that seemed to have its own natural glow, and his (what you assumed was permed) black softly-waved hair, made him in every way … dangerous. Kim Taehyung was dangerous, and you knew it. And it was important that you remembered that, because if you didn’t then things were not going to go as planned and quickly at that.

It took you, what felt like a whole hour, to finally process that his hand had been stuck out for who knows how long. “Get a grip of yourself y/n,” you thought to yourself, the only reason you were so nervous was because you knew what your intentions being here were, no one else here did.

“Don’t panic, breathe, recuperate, and adapt,” Yuna’s words rang in your head, as it was what she’d emphasize you do, just in case something went wrong or unplanned, “You are someone confident, you are someone poised, and most importantly you are someone rich,” she’d scold you, practically drilling the words into your head. You just hadn’t expected that you were going to have to use her advice this early on. “You got this,” you silently whisper to yourself, just breathe.

And so just as you saw him beginning to pull his hand back, you quickly grabbed it and began to shake it in return, “I’m y/n,” you nervously grin, “I’m so sorry about that, I just—” you faintly pause, “I guess you can say I just get shy around people I don’t know and well I just got so nervous,” you embarrassingly ramble on, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Like I said it’s fine, really,” he says, looking down at the stain which for the most part was no longer as wet as before, now only damp in moisture, “It’s just a shirt really,” he chuckles.

“I know, but still,” you reiterate. You silently take a look around the venue. People had seemed to have quickly forgotten about what had transpired, going back to their regular day to day conversations without a care in the world, “It’s just that I’m new around here and well I just want to make a good impression on people,” you explain, your words clearly catching his attention.

“Oh, where are you from?” he harmlessly asks, genuine curiosity emitted from his tone.

“I’m from—”

The Day Before: Wednesday Evening.

“The United States?—No, No! Seoul! No! Uh—” you immediately feel the squirts of ice cold water on your face from Yuna’s plastic spray bottle, the twentieth time today.

“Wrong!” she scolds, spritzing you one more time for the heck of it causing Hoseok to burst out in fits laughter, for again, the twentieth time today.

You dramatically let out a huff of air in irritation, as well as pouting and crossing your arms in annoyance, “How many times do we have to go over this y/n!” Yuna screeches, grabbing her metal pointer stick, and harshly hitting the cheap whiteboard covered in red messy scribbles that you two bought the night before, “You’re from Seoul, but you moved with your rich old family to the states a couple of years ago, and you’re back here on vacation for the next ten weeks because you were “homesick”, which explains why he’s never seen you before in his life!” she explains, “What’s not clicking?” she says, now tapping her forehead with her index finger.

“You don’t have to be so mean about it,” you sneered.

“Well y/n! We can’t afford any mistakes, and it’s very important you know the basics because the moment he catches you in a lie, all bets are off on that money,” she sighs, her face now softening, “I know that right now you may think I’m being a bitch right now, but trust me, you’ll thank me later,” she snaps her head towards Hoseok’s direction, who for the past hour had been doing nothing but devouring snacks while watching the two of you bicker, “Am I right or wrong?” she asks, causing him to raise his hands as a way of saying he wanted no part in this.

You squint your eyes at him, “Maybe if we had more time, I’d be less strict about all this, but time is on the essence! Ten weeks will go by in the blink of an eye,” she adds, causing you to grunt because sadly she had a point, “So back to the top!” she yells, her facial expression going back to being firm, “Where are you from?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m from—”

Present Day

“Seoul, but you’ve stayed in the states, huh? That’s really cool, I’ve only been to LA and New York a couple of times for certain events… so what was your experience like over there?” he asks, taking a sip from his mimosa.

You don’t hesitate to answer, the response ingrained in your brain, “It was really nice, though I found myself being homesick quite often if we’re being honest,” he nods his head.  

“Ah, yeah I completely get where you’re coming from, I—” he catches himself mid-sentence, shaking his head, as if disappointed with himself, “There’s just no place like Seoul huh,” he says instead, to which you nod in agreement.

You proceed in planting the seed to Yuna’s plan, “I have to go back in a couple of weeks though, I still have a year left to go for my bachelor’s, and well I’m really just here for visits sake,” you explain, your nerves slowly withering away. The more you spoke, the more natural things were beginning to feel, smooth and easy like melted butter on toast.

And in a way you weren’t entirely lying. You were going to have to leave at some point, you did have a year left in school, and technically you were just a temporary visitor in this whole world of the rich. Of course, there were some major differences between the truth and what you were leading him on to believe, but at the end of the day this wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

“Oh I see, what are you majoring in?” he politely asks, silently hoping he wasn’t intruding too much. Taehyung for the first time in a very long time, felt nervous. For one thing, you were very pretty, breathtakingly so, he almost felt like a kid with a schoolboy crush. It was quite embarrassing really.

But Taehyung was waiting. He was waiting for you to do something or say something that would confirm that you weren’t the person he’s hoping you to be, that you were in fact a stuck up brat just like the many he’d seen and met before. That you were just like anyone else here who solely cared for numbers, and their own personal riches. It was as if he was anticipating the feeling of disappointment.

“Business, accounting if we’re being specific,” you respond to his question, breaking him from his train of thought, “I’ve always been pretty good with numbers,” you say, “but not enough to become a full on STEM major or anything like that,” you joke, garnering a light chuckle from him, which you could easily tell was completely fake.

Maybe he was right, maybe you were just like the rest of them.

“I see, I see, I just finished my studies recently,” he comments, “I majored in finance though,” he says, which ultimately doesn’t surprise you. Not only because it seemed fitting for someone like him to get a bachelors in that field, but because you basically memorized his Wikipedia page as well. Supposedly having gotten into and graduating from SNU based on his own merit. Though you had your doubts of course, it was probably just best to keep your thoughts to yourself.

What you needed to focus on was getting him to ask you out on a date, considering an awkward silence on both ends had now arisen. A part of you was now severely worried about that date not happening anytime soon. Did you say something wrong? Maybe he wasn’t as interested in you anymore? Business is a pretty boring major, but it’s what Yuna told you to say, and well it is what you were actually majoring in. Maybe you should say something? No, just stick to the script. He isn’t saying anything though….

“Originally I wanted to major in photography,” you blurt out, catching him by surprise, “I was gonna minor in it, but being an accounting major was hard enough as it was, and well family pressure,” you say, your fingers tapping against the surface of the bar, “Nowadays it’s more of a hobby I do, here and there,” you say, curiosity now apparent on his face.

What you were telling him was in fact true, you loved photography, at one point even wanting to make a career out of it, but to become a professional photographer was hard enough as it was. In all honesty, you respected those who had the ability to confidently pursue their dreams. People like Yuna for example, who despite the risk of failing being high, never gave up. It was a risk you were unwilling to take, preferring a secured financial future over the latter.

“I especially like candid photography, there’s just something about it,” you ramble on, “it’s relaxing in a sense, like you learn to be more appreciative of what’s in front of you,” you gush, almost forgetting why you were talking about this topic to begin with.

Taehyung on the other hand looked at you with a grin on his face, finding your babbling amusing to say the least. It was in every way adorable.

“I have these binders at home filled with—” before you could continue on, the sound of a phone ringing interrupts. A look of annoyance now appears on Taehyung’s face, as he begrudgingly took out his phone from his pocket, hesitating to accept the phone call.

“You don’t mind if I—” you quickly nod your head, flashing him a superficial smile, as he momentarily stepped away from the bar.

You quickly took a sigh of relief once he was no longer in view, taking this as an opportunity to take a breather. Personally, you didn’t like this tense feeling, and you could imagine how much more heightened it’d be in these upcoming weeks. “Could it perhaps be … guilt?” you think to yourself, you quickly shake off the idea.

“I’m sorry about that,” you hear his voice, failing to hide the peeved look on his face.

“No, it’s fine, really,” you insist. A pregnant pause now in the air.

“I was hoping—”

“Are you—” both of your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Oh my bad, what were you going to say?” you ask.

“No, you can go first,” he smiles.

“No, no, you go ahead,” you persist.

“You sure?” he asks, to which you nod in return.

“Well I have to go right now, attend to some personal errands and stuff,” he glances down at the stain, “also change out of this shirt,” he jokes, “but um,” he momentarily hesitates, “But I was hoping we could go out some time, grab some coffee or something.” Bingo. Step one, check. “I mean unless you don’t like coffee, I don’t know why I assumed you did, we can always get like smoothies or something, um,” he falters, his hand now scratching the back of his neck. “Hm cute,” you think to yourself.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you grin, “I was going to say the same thing actually, but yes I would love to get coffee with you, ” you respond.

“Perfect! I was thinking maybe tomorrow evening, around 10AM? I’ll pick you up,” he states, the excitement clearly evident.

“Yeah, sounds great,” you giggle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he waves, before turning around and beginning to walk away. But after a couple of seconds he abruptly stops in his tracks and turns back around, causing you to genuinely laugh as you knew why he had stopped.

“I really forgot to ask for your number…” he facepalms himself.

Thursday Night.

“You had one job!” Yuna dramatically flails her arms around, she and Hoseok now having been filled in on everything that happened this morning.

“And I got it done, didn’t I?” you retort, causing Yuna to roll her eyes, mumbling a sassy “I guess” in return.

“You’re so lucky I don’t have my spraying bottle on me right now,” she jokes around, but a part of her was more likely than not actually serious about it.

“Anyways, I’m surprised he actually ended up going up to me after all,” you mused, “Didn’t think it’d actually work.”

“Well with what I had you wearing, of course he was going to go up to you little miss y/n! A ruched floral dress with a summer straw hat at an all white attire event? Do you have no faith in me woman! Actually no, have some faith in yourself!” she loudly lectures you, playfully hitting the side of your arm. “The bad posture was something you already had experience with on your own merit,” she teases, causing her to start dying of laughter at her own joke.  

You scowl in return, “Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you grumble out, subconsciously fixing your posture.

“Anyways, what was the famous Kim Taehyung like? Is he really the heartthrob everyone makes him out to be,” Hoseok chimes in, his chin resting against his hand, eager to know the more about your encounter, “Come on, I need details, not no flimsy recap.”

“Um…” you hesitate with your next choice of words, “he’s um..” how could you describe Taehyung? He certainly wasn’t what you thought he was going to be like, “He’s a,” you pause, the two in front of you now looking at you with eager eyes, “He’s a nice guy… for now at least,” you conclude, surprising both Hoseok and Yuna alike. “I—” you sigh, “I think apart of me, like a very little tiny part is already starting to feel gu—”

“Ah! Don’t you even say it!” Yuna interjects.

“You didn’t let me finish!” you scold, immediately causing Yuna’s mouth to go shut. “Though a small part of me does feel guilty,” you pause, “at the end of the day Kim Taehyung is nothing but a rich boy with a grand old penthouse, flashy cars, and has enough money that could last him for several lifetimes. His father is a multi millionaire tycoon who from what I’ve heard exploits people for his own personal gain. Two sides of the same fucking coin. And so maybe right now he may seem like some nice guy, but it’s probably all an act. I’m not the bad guy here, I know I’m not. And I’ll be damned to let anyone, even if it’s myself, convince me otherwise, not with what I have at stake,” you finish off, staring at the invoices which were held up by magnets on your refrigerator, a reminder of what you were doing all of this for.

Kim Taehyung is nothing more than a pawn in a game of chess, and it was your job to make sure he stayed in that position. Nothing more, nothing less.

Earlier That Day.

“You called me?” Taehyung enters his father’s office, still feeling aggravated at the sudden interruption from earlier. His father doesn’t even bother to look up from his pile of papers, only making a quick motion at Taehyung to sit down on the arm chair placed across his desk.

The sound of silence filled the room, as his father continued to scribble down who knows what, on his sheets of papers, clearly focused on what was in front of him which only bothered Taehyung more. “Was there a point to all of this?” he thought to himself.

“Yes there is,” his father suddenly said, causing Taehyung to straighten up, not realizing that he must’ve said what he was thinking aloud. He finally looks up to face Taehyung, the stern look he always had on, well placed on his face. He quickly pulls open his drawer and grabs what seems to be a magazine out, smacking it on his desk for Taehyung to see. He sighs, “So you care to explain what this is all about?”

The title, in a big bold yellow colored font, reads, “Kim Taehyung Gets Physical With Paparazzi, Trouble in Paradise?” accompanied by a collage of photos which included Taehyung post physical-assault on the paparazzo and his argument with Sunhi, all painting him as some kind of villain. Taehyung remained silent, instead avoiding eye contact, only causing his father to let out a sardonic laugh, his frustration clearly evident.

“Ah Taehyung,” he starts off, “I feel like we’ve had this conversation many, many, times,” he lets out another sarcastic chuckle, “and I have to say, you had me fooled when you told me you were ready to come back,” he continuously taps his fingers on his desk in a rhythmic pattern.

“You don’t get—”

“I don’t care for the sob stories Taehyung, I really don’t,” he interrupts, finally snapping, “In fact I have staff telling me that is was Sunhi who cheated on you, something along those lines,” he mumbles, “What you do on your free time, or who you’re seeing is really none of my concern,” he pauses, “until it has the potential to affect my business, and the image it upholds,” he clarifies.

“I know,” Taehyung hisses.

“Then those little antics you used to like to pull off shouldn’t be making a return,” he narrows his eyes at his son, “because we all know the results of those,” he harshly reminds him, causing Taehyung to ball his fist in anger, “So I suggest you get a hold of yourself, quickly at that, so that I don’t have to clean up your messes like before,”

“You don’t have to remind me every waking fucking moment,” Taehyung harshly says, getting up from the chair. His father is quick to do the same, the two now facing each other, the desk being their only barrier.

“And who the hell do think you’re talking to like that,” his father spits, “It was me who got you out of that mess that night, hell if it weren’t for me you’d be behind prison bars at this very moment,” Taehyung looks away, his eyes now watering, “You should be nothing but grateful,” Taehyung quickly wipes the tear that uncontrollably rolls down his cheek. The feeling of shame now overshadowing the feeling of anger he originally felt. He attempts to take deep breaths, anything to prevent himself from looking any more like a coward. He didn’t want to cry, no he refused to cry, especially not in front of his father.

“A house made of glass trying to throw brick stones,” his dad scoffs, “Ironic really,” a vile smirk now on his face, “just get out my sight already, consider this a warning,” he concludes before sitting back down and continuing his work, acting as if nothing had happened. Taehyung stood there for what felt like forever, his eyes still brimmed with tears, before silently making his way out into the hall.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” he kept telling himself as he made his way down to the lobby, but it was hard. He could feel the lump in his throat waiting to be let out, as well as how his lip would quiver whenever he’d force himself to smile at the several staff members who would politely greet him. It was almost as if he was suffocating.

He unlocked his car door and made his way inside, immediately punching the steering wheel in subdued frustration. He looked at himself from the car mirror, staring at his red puffy eyes, still refusing to allow himself to cry despite being alone. Instead he took more deep breaths, once again tucking away the turmoil he’d been feeling for a very long time back into the depths of his heart.

Turning on the ignition of his car, he made his way out of the building’s parking lot, quickly shaking off what had happened. He had a date to look forward to tomorrow morning, and he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin that.

Friday Morning.

“Ta da!” Yuna shimmys her hands, proud of the outfit she’s ensembled. She was definitely making use of Mrs. Choi’s closet, “You don’t think this is a little too much?” you question, feeling slightly insecure about what you were wearing, the tan beret on your head slowly becoming crooked. This was definitely better than anything you’d pick on your own for a morning cup of coffee, that was for sure.

“Oh of course not!” Yuna exclaims while quickly fixing your hair,  “Now put this on top of the turtle neck,” she says, passing you a brown plaid double-breasted coat, “and then,” she glances at the two bags in her hands, debating which color would look best before ultimately picking the cream colored cross-bag, “put this over it.”

She claps her hands together, clearly proud of her fashion sense. “The perfect outfit for your date, doesn’t she look so pretty Hobi?” she gushes. Hoseok looks up from his phone, the three of you were now on a nickname basis.

“So she does,” he smiles, “but maybe a black bag might fit the outfit better,” Yuna’s eyebrows quickly furrow.

“Hey leave the fashion to me, computer boy!”  Yuna playfully squints her eyes at him.

“I’m just saying! A white turtleneck and a cream colored bag isn’t the look you think it is.”

“Yeah well,” she puckers her lips like a kid, unable to think of anything to counter with, she instead says, “that uniform you’re wearing is ugly!” causing a dramatic offended look to appear on his face.

“Oh I’ll have you know—”

“Will you two stop with the bickering?” you interrupt him before he could attack in return, “Taehyung is going to get here any moment, and you,” you point at Yuna, “need to start heading to work, while you,” you point to Hoseok, “need to get back to work,” you reaffirm, silencing the two who were now staring at you like lost puppies, “Well what are you waiting for, shoo!” you commanded, your statement coming off a little more harsher than you intended, but you blamed it on your nerves. You couldn’t help it because well, you were indeed very nervous.

“Ah okay, okay. Let us know how it goes!” Yuna says, before dragging Hoseok by the arm and leading eachother out. “And remember to stay calm and collective!” he shouts before being yanked on by Yuna.

You let out a deep breath of air. You hadn’t been on a date in a very long time, and though one could consider this a “fake” date on your part, it was a date nonetheless. You needed to leave a good impression, enough that he'd be willing to take you out again after today.

[From: Taehyung]  

[9:55] Hey, I’m around the corner from the address you texted me :) I should be outside in like 2 mins

[9:55] i'm in the black mercedes benz btw

[To: Taehyung]

[9:55] perfect ☺️ i’ll be out right now then.

You fix your hair one last time, making sure everything looked perfect. “It’s not a date, just two strangers getting coffee together,” you reassure yourself one last time before making your way out.

The car ride to the coffee shop per se wasn’t awkward, but formal to say the least. Of course, Taehyung didn’t exactly expect you to immediately be talkative once you stepped into the car, but judging by how stiff you remained the whole car ride, and the lack of conversation there was, he also knew that he didn’t want you to feel timid to talk or as if you had to hold yourself back in front of him. He wanted things to feel natural, like how you were when you were talking about photography, where he could tell you were genuinely just being yourself.

Honestly he was used to women usually going out of their way to show off in front of him, or to make themselves seem like someone they weren’t simply to impress him, so this was definitely... different than what he was used to. But for some reason it made him even more curious to get to know you, eager to see what you were hiding behind that brick wall of an exterior you’ve seemed to have set up for yourself. He assumed it was going to take time for you to warm up to him, but the problem was that Taehyung wasn’t much of a patient person to begin with.

“After you,” he says, politely opening the door to the coffee shop for you. You whisper “thank you” to the small, but kind gesture.

The coffee shop in itself was very cute. From the cushioned cream-colored loveseats decorated by pillows you’d find overpriced on Wayfair, to the bright lighting provided by a massive roof skylight, and lastly the wooden bookshelves decorated with a variety of different novels, all which gave the coffee shop a very pleasant home-like feeling to it. If you could describe it in one word it’d be “warm”.

You stood there like a lost child for a moment, unsure of what to order as you studied the menu. They had a variety of drinks, things you were sure you had never even heard of, either that or they just had a fancy way of describing everything in order to boost up the price. “So any idea on what you want?” he asks.

“Um,” honestly you really weren’t much of a coffee drinker, having ordered the same drink at Starbucks for the past several years, “Surprise me,” you awkwardly smile, before making your way (practically running) to a wooden table next to a window view.

You were definitely peeved with yourself because you knew that you needed to stop being so damn quiet because God was that car ride awkward, insufferable almost. But you just weren’t good at this kind of stuff, never had been.

Even during high school when you had gone on your first ever official date, you ended having an utter meltdown in the restroom after your date awkwardly pointed out that you had a piece of spinach stuck in between your teeth, a waitress on break had to comfort you before you could even step out again. Even then you had your mouth glued shut afterward, paranoid about embarrassing yourself again.

And that wasn’t the only embarrassing incident you’ve encountered in past dates, there had been plenty more, but that would take a hefty amount of time to talk about.

Point was, you’d always find yourself acting like a turtle hiding in its shell or like a pufferfish, blurting out the most random and embarrassing things at any given moment. It was always one or the other and it always left you with a humiliating story to tell Yuna, a prime example being accidently spilling your drink on the son of a multimillionaire. You kept anxiously bouncing your leg as you watched him order at the cashier register, thinking of ways to start a conversation.

“I got you a heavenly toffee, it’s an espresso with toffee nut syrup, caramel cream, almond milk, and whipped cream,” he places the drink on the table for you, “I figured you could never go wrong with something sweet,” he smiles.

“Oh wow,” you say, genuinely delighted with his choice, “their mugs are so pretty,” you quietly comment, observing the intricate design on the ceramic mug.

“Yeah it’s definitely one of my favorite coffee shops in the area, I also recommend this one called Seoul’s Magnificent Mocha, they have good drinks as well,” he chuckles, recalling his last visit there.

“Well if I’m being completely honest, I’ve never been too enthusiastic for coffee, but,” you take a sip of the drink in front of you, “I have to say this is really good,” you laugh, pleasantly surprised at the sweetness of the drink, you could hardly even taste the bitterness of the coffee.

“So y/n, tell me a little bit about yourself,” he says while taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Oh well hm—” you try to recall the things Yuna would tell you to say, but with Taehyung intensely staring at you, your mind had gone completely blank, “well,” you felt your face getting red at the pressure you felt, your ears definitely feeling hot, “there’s not much to say really. I’m a pretty boring person,” you let out a very awkward chuckle, looking down in embarrassment.

“Don’t say that,” he says, “we could start off with something simple, like,” he looks up for a moment in thought, “what’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow,” you simply state, no commentary, no “What about yours”, no nothing, Yuna would probably squirt you with her bottle 100 times if she was there. Your brain was having a “we threw out his name” moment from Spongebob. Nothing but fire and chaos going on in there.

“Oh…” he pressed his lips together, slightly disheartened at your lack of enthusiasm. Was there something wrong with him? Maybe he was just badgering too much? Before he could dwell on it too long, the sound of a camera flashing caught both his and your attention.

“Oh no,” you quickly think to yourself, immediately turning away from the window in order to cover your face. Taehyung didn’t bother to question as to why you had turned so quickly because he was quick to do the same. Your reason being was that you couldn’t afford to land on the front cover of a magazine or appear on a gossip channel because the moment your mom saw from her hospital bed, it’d be a wrap for you.

“Damn it,” he groaned, “I thought it’d be too early for them to follow me out here,” he says. Honestly, Taehyung didn’t mind the paparazzi taking pictures of him, at this point he was used to it. But what he didn’t want was to put you in the spotlight with no say on your part, especially knowing how stalkerish the paparazzi could be. The moment they got a clear identity as to who you were, you’d be followed until the end of time, and he would definitely feel guilty for that.

“We gotta get out of here before more of them arrive,” he cursed, “Just don’t look back,” he directs, slowly turning his head back to see if he could spot where the person taking pictures was. “Alright the guy seems to be planted from afar, so I think we can walk out the entrance, just make sure you cover your face with your hand or something or you could use your beret,” he jokes around. “You don’t gotta tell me twice,” you think to yourself.

You nod at his directions, the two of you quickly getting up and putting your mugs away, before speed walking back to the car. You could only cross your fingers that a clear photo of you wasn’t taken.

Taehyung quickly zoomed out of the area, but despite his efforts, everytime he glanced at his rear-view mirror he could spot the black van still following him, which only put him in a bad mood.

“I’m gonna have to drop you off at the back or something, or else you’ll find men always outside your building for the rest of your trip until they find out who exactly are you,” Taehyung scowled, mad at himself for being so careless. You wordlessly nod your head, a little intimidated at how angry he looked.

The car ride back to your place is quiet, nothing different than the car ride to the coffee shop. “I’m sorry,” he exhales once you guys are outside the building, “I should’ve been more careful,” he mutters, internally scolding himself.

You shake your head in disagreement, “Trust me, it’s fine, it’s expected really,” you mumble, your words causing him to feel a slight sting to the heart. Though he didn’t even know you well enough for your words to genuinely hurt, for some reason they did.

“Well I’ll text see you some other time Taehyung,” you formally bow your head, getting out of the car, and quickly walking into Mr. Choi's building, leaving him taken aback by your words. One could say he was looking into your word choice a little too much, but no, he knew exactly what you meant. And so with that he left feeling disheartened.

“So how’d it go?” Hoseok catches you right as you enter the elevator.

“Horrible, it went horrible,” you state, the elevator doors closing before you could say anything else.

Saturday Morning.

“Your kimchi came out way too salty,” your mom criticizes, taking a bite of the food you’ve brought, “should've added root vegetable or something,” she shakes her head in dismay. She expects you to fire back with a remark, but instead she watches as you just sit in the hospital chair, eating your food in pout.

Today was your visiting day, and though you tried to hide your dismay at yesterday’s date when talking to your mom, it kept popping up in the back of your mind like an annoying itch. Of course your mom had noticed your odd behavior from the moment you walked in, but for you to be eating in pout meant that whatever it was that was on your mind, must've really been bothering you.

“Now are you gonna care to explain why you’re feeling so down,” she questions, “or are you going to keep sulking in your seat,” she chuckles.

You wrinkle your nose, “It’s nothing ma,” you try deflecting the conversation, your gaze wandering to the TV.  

“Ah so it’s about a boy,” she laughs, causing your head to snap in her direction, a puzzled look now on your face.

“And what makes you so sure?”

She shrugs, “Because I’m your mom and I’ve seen that look many times,” she grabs the remote from the hospital’s bed stand, subsequently turning off the TV, “come on, I’m in cool mom mode now,” she cringely says, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Oh god,” you mumble, loudly sighing before beginning, “so there’s this boy,” you start off.

“I knew it,” she sings, jokingly winking at you.

“I went on a date with him the other day and well I don’t know, I tensed up, you know how I get,” you explain, downwarding your gaze to the floor in shame as you recalled your behavior from the day before.

“Mm,” she hums, sounding unconvinced, “well there must be a reason as to why you got so tensed up, and I’m sure you know why,” she deadpans, her face now becoming stern. So much for being in “cool mom” mode.

“Well I don’t—”

“No, no, no, I’m not accepting your excuses,” she vigorously shakes her head.

You sigh, “I just,” you pause, remembering that you needed to be careful with your words, “I just really want him to like me that’s all.”

“And?”

You groan, “And well I feel like I have to act a certain way or be a certain way in order for him to like me,” you explain, “and I just don’t think I have it in me. I don’t think he’s the type of person to like me, well for me, I guess you can say he’s like the popular kid in those high school movies, you know?” you let out a dry laugh knowing that the situation was much more than that.

“Well can you tell me a little about this boy?” she quieres, grabbing a strand of your hair and beginning to play with it.  

“Well I’m not going to give you details because for all I know we might end up bad,” you say,  making an excuse so that you wouldn't have to give a name, “but this guy, well he’s been told to have a reputation. He’s selfish, he’s reckless, he’s rude, and the only person he cares for is himself,” you rant, your mother now seeming taken aback by your description.

“Is that what people tell you, or is that what you think?” she laughs, “because the way you just said that, it seems like those are your personal feelings about him, and so I can’t help but wonder why you would want to go out with someone like that,” she wonders. “Oh honey, you have no idea why,” you think to yourself.

“Well because that’s what people like him are, that’s what they’ve always proven themselves to be, it’s what—”

“You assume he’s going to be like,” she cuts you off, her tone now dismissive.

“It’s what I know he’s going to be like,” you retaliate, crossing your arms like a little kid, causing her to laugh.

“Oh y/n y/n y/n,” she continues playing with your hair, “I want you to listen to what I have to say, okay? And then once I’m done, you can either take my advice to the heart, or let it go in one ear and out the other, alright?” you hum in response.

“Okay so the first thing I want to talk about,” she clears her throat, “is that it’s wrong of you to make assumptions about this person, or anyone in general.”

“I know but—”

“Ah, what’d I tell you about listening. You didn’t let me finish,” she scolds, gently tugging the strand of hair she was playing with, “I want you to go on another date with him, but open minded this time y/n. No preconceived notions, no overanalyzations of the things he does so that you can make him fit into the mold you’ve made for him, no nothing, and the same goes for you,” she takes a sip of her water bottle, giving you a chance to quickly say something.

“But ma, the girls I’ve seen him date in the past, I’m,” you sigh, “I’m nothing like them,” her eyebrows immediately furrow.

“And who said you had to be anything like them?” she grabs your hand, causing you to quietly stare at her, “but this leads to my second point. No more putting pressure on yourself to be someone you’re not,” she softly nudges your shoulder, “Just give him one genuine chance, just one, and if it’s not meant to be then it’s not meant to be,” she says, finishing her little speech.

“But I want him to like me,” your voice cracks, desperately wanting to replace the word “want” with “need”.

“Hey don’t cry,” she chuckles, quickly pulling you in for a hug, “Trust me y/n, as long as you be yourself, any boy who's lucky enough to get to know you will fall in love. I promise you that.” she softly whispers into your ear. And with her words you could immediately feel the pressure come off your shoulders, the words not only comforting, but hitting home. “Okay so I need you to promise me that the next time you see him, it’ll be a fresh new slate for both him and you, alright? Shake off, whatever you have on your mind, and just enjoy what’s in front of you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, deciding that your mom was right, things needed to change, and you were going to do just that.

Saturday Night.

“So how did that coffee date of yours go?” Namjoon mentions, causing Taehyung to frown at the memory.

“If I’m being honest, not that well,” he sighs, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from his alcohol shelf.

Namjoon’s face scrunches in confusion, “Well, what went wrong this time?” he laughs.

Taehyung shrugs, trying his best to seem unfazed, “I don’t know, I guess she just wasn’t that into me,” he comments on you lightly, “Maybe it was for the best, I don’t really have time for another relationship anyway, not with my busy schedule,” he says, taking a sip from his drink.

“Busy schedule, but you had the time to go get coffee immediately the next day after meeting her, with no second thought? Yeah that makes sense,” Namjoon teases, causing Taehyung to roll his eyes.

“Like I said, I don’t know, she just was not budging, it was like speaking to a brick wall the whole time, and I’m sure if the paparazzi hadn’t interrupted it would have remained like that the whole time,” he sneers while pushing his hair back, “which is weird cause I don’t know there was just something about her, I just can’t describe it, but I just know she was holding back.” he explains, causing Namjoon to snort, “But anyways, it’s my fault, I set my expectations too high, thinking I was going to find love at first sight, actually no I blame you for putting those thoughts into my head.”

Namjoon raises his hands in defense, “Hey, all I did was pressure you to go up to her, everything else was your own head’s doing.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right, I’m just gonna be a lone wolf for a —” the sound of a “ding” interrupts Taehyung before he could complete his sentence, and so he checks his phone to see who could’ve texted him.

Namjoon stares at Taehyung who was now intently staring at his phone, looking quite flabbergasted, “Well, what is it?” he questions, a goofy grin now slowly appearing on the wavy haired young man’s face.

“I,” he lets out a chuckle, “I think I’m going on a date tomorrow night,” he faintly blushes, turning his phone to show Namjoon the text he just read, which reads:

[From: y/n]

[9:02 PM] you + me, tomorrow @ 5:30 , Ilsan lake park, i’ll bring what we need.

[9:02 PM] yes or yes?? 😇

[To: y/n]

[9:03 PM] i’ll see you then 😅

a/n 🧚🏻 : did I mention this is slow burn???? LOL. originally I was going to include date #2 on here because I only want this series to be a max of like 8-10 chapters, butttt I also wanted to update so ... but all the buildup will (hopefully) be worth itttt. the smut is coming soon in other words LMAO. I also took a while to update bc I was trying not to make y/n too annoying and just make the characterization how I pictured it to be, like I needed to establish the generalization she has on the Taehyung but IDK lmk what you think, message me, comment, send an anon, anything is welcome 🤍 

I Can't Lose You-Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT. 

**********************************************************************

Please read each warnings carefully and heed them. This fanfic will have angst themes and later more adult content. Read the warnings and Follow them!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

I WON'T LOSE YOU (ICLY 7.5)

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

ALL MINE (ICLY 11.5)

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14-Under Construction...

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home sweet castle by kimnjss

home sweet castle

A/N: this is based on each episode of in the soop, focused around a certain member with each update, but they’re all in each part.

just a few days rest from your busy schedule is enough to get you back on track… spending those days off with your seven boyfriends in a castle built deep in the forest you can kiss any type of rest goodbye!

. . .

I just started reading this and it feels like the follow up to wild, wild, wilderness also by kimnjss which is a great story so i was so excited for this one and it did not disappoint. I can not wait for the next parts.

He cheated??? | YN’S perspective

Roommates - masterlist

authors note: there was a glitch so there’s a color difference in two slides 😭 and I’m too lazy to fix it so for now just ignore it…

taglist: @highly-functioning-mitochondria @belovedsthings @btsbangers @kimxhanbin131 @taessspart2 @got7usernames @bambamsthings @jaxavance @sukunasrealgf @bjoriis

Ghosted 01 (M) | JJK

Pairing: Bartender!Jungkook x Patron!Reader | AU: Arcade Bar AU

Genre: Idiots to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Angst / Humor

Summary: There are a lot of things to love about the local arcade bar, Drinking Games, but you definitely have your favorites: sinking countless hours into a Ms. Pacman knockoff and lovingly tormenting one of the bartenders. It turns out he’s one of the bar’s owners, a friend of one of your friends, and he just might like you back.

Rating: Explicit / 18+

Chapter Word Count: 11.1k

Total Series Wordcount: 31.3k

CW: Sexual (sexual thoughts, inappropriately named cocktails, discussions about sex; explicit smut in future chapters); Violence (none), Language (swearing, dirty talk), Other (Jungkook is a hot fucking mess, food poisoning, brief puke mentions, mutual insecurity)

A/N: This is part one of the fic commissioned by @ggukcangetit and I’m very happy to share that they really liked the fic, so I’m hoping you guys do too! When @ggukcangetit​ commissioned the fic, they told me that they really loved one of my other fics, Frost Impressions, and that they were hoping for a similar enemies to lovers/idiots to lovers vibe. I am proud to say that I absolutely brought some of the cringey awkwardness into this fic. I hope  you all get second-hand embarrassment the way I did when I wrote it, and I also hope that this fic makes you laugh, gives you warm fluffy feelings, and maybe makes your heart ache a little bit. Enjoy 💜💜

As always, I cross-post to Archive of Our Own. If you prefer to read there, I use the same username there as I do here. 💙

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