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preciouslandmermaid · 3 months

Text

of songbirds, swords, and spice (2)

pairing: Opla!Zoro x Opla!Sanji x Fem! Reader (no use of Y/N or L/N)

tw: this chapter contains blood & violence (makin' the live action more realistic lets goooo)

🏴‍☠️ read on AO3 🏴‍☠️

(masterpost)

(<- previous chapter)

Sanji blinked. The beautiful voice was gone, but the enchanting woman stood before him, her shocked expression morphing into simmering anger. Lovely and vicious. She and Nami would get along. One of the bandits fired into the air and there’s a surge of rapid movement, as fierce as a hurricane, as guests scramble to their feet. Tables and chairs went upturned, drinks spilled on the floor, alongside shattered plates and silverware. They fled. There were glimmers of gold here and there between flashes of streetwear as the staff directed citizens to the back exit. Usopp sidestepped into the flow of fleeing bodies and nervously looked behind him.

“Honestly.” Sanji stood. “Does no one have respect for the arts anymore?”

“Show was getting borin’ anyways.” Zoro unsheathed his sword.

Nami gripped her staff and looked at the crew before she nodded and jumped over the table. A scimitar whistled through the air, its silver blade glinting, and Sanji flattened himself to the floor. A single sweep of his leg knocked the bandit off-balance before he could strike Nami. There was a second of respite – as there often was in battle – and he used it to check on Nami and the performer.

Crack! Nami’s staff landed against a pirate’s jaw. Where’s the performer...he swiveled toward the exit. You were near it, but you weren’t running away. Wait. She’s not running?!

The sheer, billowing fabric of your performance robes trailed your movements. You held your microphone stand and thwacked a bandit in the stomach. The bandit grunted, doubled over, but recovered quickly. He leveled his pistol at your head.

No!

He ran toward you, but Zoro slid into his field of vision. His blade arced upward and cut through bone and muscle as if were warm butter. The bandit’s arm dropped onto the floor. A heartbeat. The bandit screamed, fell, clutched his bloody appendage to his chest, and desperately tried to halt the gushing fountain of blood from his elbow. Splotches of wet crimson saturated the front of your robes in sticky, and shiny dark patches.

“I had him.” Sanji huffed, swiping his blonde hair out of his face.

“Sure,” Zoro said sarcastically.

He flicked his blade outward and the excess blood splattered onto the floor and on your robe’s navy and white skirt. You didn’t flinch. Interesting. How often does this establishment get overrun with pirates? He wondered.

“You should get out of here,” Sanji said to you, “we can handle this.”

“No.” You lifted the microphone stand and rested it over your shoulder. “Duck.”

Sanji didn’t think twice. He ducked. The rounded base of the stand smashed into a bandit’s face, sending her reeling backward and clutching a bloody nose. He bounced back to his feet and offered you his most charming, most grateful smile. Your pretty face was freckled with blood and glistened with sweat. He can’t afford to get distracted by your beauty, however. The Cupidon Doré – the golden cupid – was still under threat. He remained close, avoiding your wide swings of the microphone stand. He roundhouse kicked a bandit. They crashed into a table, breaking it in half. One of Usopp’s ammunition whizzed past his head and ricocheted off a golden cherub before it struck a bandit in the eye.

He followed Usopp’s attack by dropping into a one-handed handstand position and – “Oof!” the bandit cried as Sanji’s kick slammed into his ribs. He used the momentum, spun in the opposite direction, and the second blow hit the bandit’s lower back. The bandit sprawled onto the floor beside broken plates and glass, dazed and groaning.

“Gum Gum Punch!” Luffy shouted, sending the leader of the blood bandits' through the wall. The Sheetrock crumbled and fell in large dusty chunks and exhumed a cloud of dust and debris. Whew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stood in the middle of the destroyed dining room, heart pounding, your clothes sticky with blood, and muscles throbbing from swinging the microphone stand. You and these strangers managed to thwart the bloody bandits. Estella’s gonna be pissed.

“Did you seriously have to break our wall?” you asked between gasps of air.

“Sorry,” Straw Hat replied bashfully, “who were those guys?”

“They announced their name,” you said, placing the microphone stand back on the stage. “The fearsome bloody bandits.” You glanced at the cloying pool of blood and abandoned dismembered arm. Yikes. However, you couldn’t muster any sympathy for the poor bastard. He was going to shoot you. If not for the green-haired swordsman, you weren’t sure you’d be here. Although—the blonde one was right behind him. Maybe your luck wasn’t so bad.

You said, “They wear red so their enemies cannot see if they’ve been injured.”

“That’s stupid,” the swordsman said.

“Yeah, they’re not the most creative.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Straw hat interjected.

“Do they bother you a lot?”

You didn’t have time to answer the staff-wielding woman because Estella shouted your name. She wheeled into the room, crushing shards of glass, plates, and splinters of wood along her way.

“I’m okay, grandma. I’m okay,” you assured her, “the blood isn’t mine.”

Your gaze lifted from Estella’s worried, wrinkled face to the swordsman. He stood with his arms crossed, his clothes dappled in blood, though nowhere near as badly as yours. Should you thank him? No. That wouldn’t be right. It wasn’t only him who saved the golden cupid.

“Thank you,” Estella said before you could, “I am in your debt. You may call me Madam Estella and this is my granddaughter--” she introduced you and you awkwardly bowed your head. As politeness demanded, Estella asked for their names, so she could thank them properly. The one with the red vest and straw hat was the first to speak.

“I am Monkey. D Luffy,” he said, “captain of the Straw Hats and future King of the Pirates.”

The future king of the pirates? Despite the dubious tone of your thoughts, you caught yourself smiling at Luffy’s earnest and determined expression. He believes it. I can see it all over his face.

Estella said, “You’re better pirates than this group of brainless jellyfish.” She shot a disdainful glare at one of the unconscious bloody bandits.

The Straw Hat pirates introduced themselves as Nami, Usopp, Sanji, and Zoro. You wondered if Estella viewed them—and you – as fools for their bravery or if she was truly grateful because the golden cupid was saved. You hadn’t been thinking about bravery during the fight. At first, you fought because you needed to ensure Estella evacuated safely. Then, Zoro saved your life and you kept fighting out of instinct, not bravery.

“Allow us to thank you properly. I assume your dinners were cut short? Come and have dinner at our home, stay the night if you wish, and tomorrow I will compensate you for your service.” Estella reached out and took your hand between hers.

Nami repeated, “compensation?”

“What?” You pulled your hand away. “Grandma, are you serious?”

“You need a bath.”

“They’re strangers!”

Estella tutted, pushed her wheelchair toward the door, and said, “All friends start as strangers, dear.”

You pressed your fingertips on your temples. Clearly, Estella had forgotten all the rules from nine years ago. We aren’t supposed to have strangers in the house. You lamented her decision, but you couldn’t overrule it. It’s her house. If she wanted to have guests then you couldn’t stop her. You collected your blood-stained skirts between your hands and walked briskly to catch up.

The palm leaves rustled overhead beneath a sky without stars—the full and bright moon—had stolen the show and outshone them.

Luffy fell into pace next to you and tucked his hands into his shorts’ pockets. “You know, I saw the waiters stealing from the VIP section.”

“They must’ve needed the berry,” you replied.

“Nah, I don’t think it was that.”

“Are you telling me that you’re a pirate who doesn’t steal?”

“Well,” he drawled, “I wouldn’t say that.”

You shook your head. “If you have questions about the performance then you can ask Estella. She’s in charge. Not me.”

“Okay!” Luffy’s long strides had an easier time catching up to Estella than you did. “Madam Estella, I have a question.”

You doubted she’d tell him about her longest-running con. The performance on every full moon was a front, a ruse, for you to use your devil fruit ability and clear out the pockets of Nightingale’s richest tourists. In the early days, before you settled on Nightingale Island, you used your voice to help you and Estella out of a dozen—no, a hundred—different situations. You had beguiled ship captains for free passage, slipped from Marine arrest, and incited brawls among rival pirates. Thankfully, that part of your life was over. You lived a quiet, comfortable life now. You sighed.

“Are you alright?” Sanji asked.

“Huh?” You blinked, surprised by his genuine tone. Who are these people? They were unlike any other pirates you had met.

“Not everyone walks away from a fight like that without shaking.”

“It’s not the first time they’ve come around,” you explained. “The three bird islands; nightingale, sparrow, and heron, they visit them every six months.”

“There isn’t a marine base on this island.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it. “So, what happens usually?”

“Estella pays them off.” You frowned at the back of Estella’s head, her long silver-white braid swaying behind her chair. “I guess she forgot to do it or...something.” Your frown deepened.

Estella always remembered her payments. The bloody bandits were punctual and came to the island at the end of the six-month mark without delay. Estella put their payment inside a marked tree hole near the port. Did someone steal it? Or did Estella want the bandits to arrive?

“I doubt they’ll return anytime soon,” Sanji said, exhaling smoke.

You’re more than inclined to agree with him. The bloody bandits wouldn’t return to Nightingale until they had regrouped their forces and stitched their wounds. You hoped they wouldn’t seek retribution and worried, not for the first time, how safe this island was. You and Estella used to spend no more than a year in one place. You weren’t sure why she chose to place roots here, but you had your assumptions.

As Sanji had said, Nightingale Island lacked a military presence which allowed for more freedom. But, more than that, the local community of the island was close-knit and supportive. The tourists came to the island to walk the beaches of black sand, witness the migration of massive sea turtles during mating season, and explore the multiple caverns and caves scattered throughout the island’s wilderness. The three bird islands were known for their impressive networks of caves and the East Blue had no shortage of daredevils seeking their claim to fame or bored rich people.

Your two-story home was built next to the orphanage. At the gate, Estella stopped in front of a statue of a kneeling woman surrounded by children and she – as she always did – kissed her fingertips and touched the statue’s face. A bronze plate on the statue’s base read: ‘Thus you shall go to the stars’.

“Celesta?” Nami said, “is she someone famous from here?”

“No.” Estella’s brown eyes were glassy in the raw, sharp moonlight and she gazed upon the countenance of the statue with longing. “She was my daughter.”

Usopp’s expression was painfully sympathetic. You were tempted to look away, but you forced yourself to meet his tender gaze. These pirates are so weird.

“Your mom?” he asked.

You said, “No.”

Celesta was like a big sister to you, but you didn’t miss her like Estella did.

“I built the orphanage for her,” Estella explained, “I may have failed her as a mother, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t fail again for any other child in this world.”

A heavy, melancholy silence fell over the group and it felt like wearing an oversized itchy sweater. You stepped ahead and said, “I’ll get cleaned up and start dinner. Maybe you can give them a tour, Grandma?”

The sorrow on Estella’s face dimmed. “What a lovely idea, dear.”

There that’s better. You hated to see Estella haunted by her regrets. She was a good person. What happened between her and Celesta wasn’t her fault, but you had had that conversation before and it led to dead-ends and tears every time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A warm huff of steam fanned your face. Your tongs, holding one of the lobster tails, dripped with hot water as you fished them out to let them cool.

Estella’s kitchen was a myriad of colors. The children liked to draw and Estella never told them ‘No, children, you can’t draw on the furniture’. The light wood counter was decorated with ugly chickens, girls holding hands, and flowers and snails. The support beams were scratched with measurements of height and hearts and turtles and clouds.

When the children first started, you hated it. You told Estella to tell them to stop and she had looked at you with so much sadness in her eyes that you stormed off. Later, she had said, ‘My dear, you can draw on the walls too.’ and you argued that you weren’t a baby anymore and Estella had stroked the side of your face and said ‘Don’t let him take your joy away, don’t give him that power.’

It had taken you a while to realize that you were angry at the young children because you were jealous. You never got to draw on the walls as a child and it wasn’t fair that they could. But, you grew up and stopped caring about the conglomeration of artwork that decorated Estella’s kitchen.

Someone knocked on the door frame and said, “Would you like some help?”

Sanji leaned onto the doorframe, hands in his pockets, a soft curl of his blonde hair falling artfully over his brow.

You dropped a spoonful of oil onto the cast iron pan. “You can cook?”

“Did you miss my introduction?” he asked, “I said I was the chef on the Going Merry.”

Huh. You had to have missed it. You were too busy thinking about Luffy’s declaration and his fierce determination reflected in his eyes.

Sanji was framed in the colors of summer and misty plumes of vapor shrouded your line of sight. You swallowed. Normally, cooking on performance night was unheard of. If the bloody bandits hadn’t attacked, then the kitchen at the golden cupid would’ve made dinner for you and Estella. Fuck it. You wouldn’t mind his help.

“I’m making seafood paella,” you said.

“What can I do?”

“The onions, tomatoes, and garlic need to be chopped.”

“Aha.” He smiled. “Easy enough.”

You picked up a wet, slimy shrimp and began to devein it with a small knife. You didn’t look at Sanji beside you, but you felt his eyes flickering to you, the weight of words unsaid lingering in the air between the scent of cooked rice and lobster. Chop, chop, chop – Sanji’s hand was steady and practiced, and his technique was precise. He’s doing a better job than I ever could.

“What herbs are you using?”

You gestured with your knife to Estella’s recipe pinned to the wall. It had been your saving grace for years because you were hopeless without her explicit directions.

“Saffron, paprika, cayenne, pepper flakes, salt,” you replied, “and I’ve got fresh parsley to serve it with.”

“Do you like to cook?”

You laughed and the rhythm of Sanji’s knife against the cutting board stuttered.

“Not really.” You picked up another shrimp. “I learned because Estella doesn’t want to hire anyone to cook for her.”

“Why not?”

Because she trusts four people in this entire world and I’m one of them.

“You’re a curious bunch of pirates,” you said instead of answering his question.

“Curious as in strange,” he said, tilting his head, “or curious as in nosy?” He smiled and the light caught a flicker of silver beneath his tongue, well-hidden, but noticed by you.

You clarified, “Nosy.”

“You and Estella are an interesting pair.” He added rice to the pan without your instruction and you were grateful you didn’t need to walk him through it. “She reminds me of someone – someone I used to work for.”

The fondness in his tone surprised and intrigued you. You met Sanji’s clear blue eyes. Wild blue, you thought, the color of the cloudless sky while at sea…so much blue that you could stare and go mad. The aromatic, earthy spices flooded your nostrils, the shrimp was cold between your fingers, and your heart did a funny, backward somersault.

“Your dynamic is familiar,” he said, adding tomatoes and green beans to the dish and increasing the heat. “And perhaps it’s made me a little homesick.”

Homesick for what? For who? You wondered.

“It’s a long story.”

He wiped the countertop and said, “We have time.”

Too bad, you thought, I’m not telling you anything. Your history with Estella wasn’t meant to be shared. It was safer that way. Yes, the straw hats were pirates who saved 'the golden cupid', but that didn’t mean you trusted them. Trust had to be earned and fought for.

“Who does Estella remind you of?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, stirring the rice.

Your heart repeated its funny, little somersault. You shook your head and took the parsley from the herbs hanging off the wooden rack. Your knife work was much, much clumsier than Sanji’s and you roughly chopped the parsley before setting it aside in a small bowl.

Sanji cleared his throat. “Didn’t you say you were using parsley for the garnish?”

“Yeah, why?” You asked while wiping the knife clean with a rag.

His eyes remained on the paella when he replied, “Because you chopped oregano.”

Your jaw was unhinged and a warm, prickly heat clawed its way up your neck. You dumped the bowl’s contents into the trash.

“The fresh herbs aren’t labeled!” you retorted, embarrassment sharpening your tone.

“Here”–he reached over your shoulder and plucked the aforementioned herb free– “It’s this one.”

His lanky arm brushed against your shoulder and you caught a whiff of vanilla with a spicy undertone, wholly unrelated to the seafood dish cooking nearby. I think I’m having a heart issue, you thought worriedly, maybe I’ll see a doctor tomorrow.

“Thanks.”

“Normally I wouldn’t say anything. It’s not my kitchen, after all, but…” He pushed his hair out of his face, smiling. “I couldn’t let a wonderful dish like this be ruined with oregano.”

Your eyes connected through the misty clouds of fragrant steam. Once again, you were baffled by these pirates—by this man in particular—who fought nearest to you and offered his help in a stranger’s kitchen. It doesn’t matter how interesting they are, you reminded yourself, they’ll leave tomorrow. No one stays on Nightingale Island. Pirates especially weren’t known for their desire to stay put.

“Is dinner ready yet? I’m starving,” Luffy asked, bounding into the kitchen. “Neat drawings. Are these yours?”

You broke eye contact with Sanji.

“No, they’re from some of the children next door.”

“I like this one,” he said, pointing at a child’s rendition of Gold Rodger. “Do you think they’ll draw me once I’m King of the Pirates?”

You smiled. “If you’re lucky.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When dinner was served, Estella said, “Oh good, you didn’t burn the rice this time.” You covered your face with your hands and groaned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, Estella ushered everyone into her ‘trinket room’. Zoro didn’t know why the old bat didn’t show this room during her tour, but he wasn’t going to ask. The tour had been a waste of time and consisted of everyone else asking a dozen questions to which Estella answered with long-winded stories and unrelated anecdotes. He wished, more than once, that he was back on the ship taking a nap. The chilly room was as large as the dining room and filled with...junk. Old paintings of beaches lined the wall and glass display cases contained rocks and jars of dirt.

Nami’s face lit up at Estella’s collection of brass telescopes and Luffy smeared his face and palms against a glass box at the center of the room.

“Noticed those, have you, Luffy?” Estella asked.

Zoro peered around Luffy’s shoulder. It was a glass box with more boxes inside. There were four stands, although one was empty. A jade box, an onyx box, and a lapis lazuli box were stored within the glass. The boxes were etched with lines, like impressions, and Zoro scratched the back of his head. What’s the big deal?

He asked, “Do you have any swords?”

“No.” She shook her head. “They’re too expensive.”

He exhaled shortly through his nose. She wasn’t lying. He hadn't found a swordsmith yet, but his broken blades were a lost cause. He would need to buy brand new ones before they entered the grand line.

You draped a blanket over Estella’s lap and stood next to her. She’s protective. His eyes trailed across your shoulders to your arms. She’s strong, though. He wouldn't have guessed it on his first impression. You had stood on the destroyed remnants of wood and glassware, drenched in blood, and didn’t waver.

“Have you heard of the great pirate Pandora?” asked Estella.

“No,” Luffy replied eagerly, “who were they?”

“It’s said that Pandora hid her treasures inside these puzzle boxes.” Estella smiled. “It’s my dream to someday have all four.”

“You should find them. You’ve already got three,” Luffy said, pointing to the case.

“Grandma is a little too old to travel the East Blue hunting fairy tales,” you interjected.

“I don’t think so,” Luffy said, “if you have a dream then you should go for it. Your age doesn’t matter.”

Estella smiled again, but you didn’t object to Luffy’s bold optimism this time. This – at least – he understood. Some people heard Luffy speak but they didn’t listen to what he was saying. Even if I’m old and graying...I’m going to be the world’s greatest swordsman. Hopefully, he would hold the title until his death.

“Where did you get all this stuff?” Usopp asked.

A chubby black cat strutted into the room and Estella patted her lap.

“All over,” she said, “my granddaughter and I explored quite a bit of the East Blue before we settled here.”

That topic gathered everyone’s attention but his. You sat on your knees by Estella’s lap and scratched the cat behind the ears, offering gentle corrections to Estella’s story, but otherwise remained quiet.

Hmph, he thought, this is weird. When you had performed, Zoro forgot to breathe, to move, every nerve-ending was alive and buzzing at the saccharine sound of your voice. But whatever happened within the golden cupid had faded. Now, the only person on the crew who was affected by you was Sanji and that was because the shitty cook couldn’t tie his shoes if a beautiful woman was nearby. Idiot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You paced. Your bedroom was bathed in pale moonlight. There was no hope of sleeping tonight. The joyful songs of crickets and calm ocean waves fell on deaf ears. You couldn’t sleep with strangers in the house. Estella offered them the guest bedrooms which were upstairs with yours’. Every creak of the floorboards and every clanging interior pipe brought your hair on end. You scooped Mimi up and the overweight cat purred in your arms, but wouldn’t be held for long before she jumped free.

“I see how it is,” you grumbled, “you’re my best friend when I’m slicing tuna, but you won’t keep me company tonight?”

Mimi pawed at your closed door and looked over her shoulder, her big eyes flashed, reflective in the moonlight.

“Spoiled.” You opened your door. Mimi sauntered into the dark hallway, her tail curved into a question-mark shape and twitching. I’m not sleeping so I might as well take a walk. You tightened the sash on your robe and followed Mimi down the stairs. When you first moved to Nightingale Island, you walked at night because you were afraid that someone from your past was inside every shadow. You walked to ease your nerves and prove to yourself that no cutthroats or bounty hunters were hiding in barrels or waiting on the black beaches. The weathered floors welcome your bare feet in gentle familiarity. You skipped the second to last step on the stairwell—knowing it creaked like a gunshot—and you didn’t want to wake Estella who slept on the first floor. Mimi pranced by your legs, demanding your attention, and you gently nudged her away with your foot.

“Traitor, I’m not feeding you.”

Mimi, who you were convinced understood human language, made a soft ‘mrrow’ chirp before she abandoned you and darted toward Estella’s room. You better not wake her you little rat. You quietly opened the backdoor and silently closed it behind you. The brackish night breeze stirred your silken robes and teased your exposed ankles. You inhaled deeply and found a semblance of peace in the quiet freedom of being outside. The backyard wasn’t large, but the bordering underbrush led to narrow pathways created by the tiny, traversing feet of children straight to the ocean. I walked these paths first, you thought, pushing a branch aside before the children came to live next door.

The closer to the ocean you got, the lighter your steps became, and the tension in your shoulders relaxed. I should check the drop-off tree, you remembered your conversation with Sanji. There’s no way Estella forgot to pay them. You hadn’t wanted to ask her while the Straw Hats were visiting because you didn’t want them to start asking for payments, too. You had seen Estella’s accounting books. The golden cupid fared well, but there was a reason she continued her long-con with you. The berry stolen from wealthy tourists helped provide for ‘Celesta’s Home for Lost Children’.

A swordsman drenched in gossamer light and made ethereal stood beneath the arching palm trees. Your heart bounced into your throat. They’ve found me. They’ve finally found us. Your lip wobbled. The swordsman had to have heard you—although you didn’t recall making a sound—because he turned his head. The three golden earrings dangling from his earlobe caught a fraction of moonlight and glinted.

“Zoro?” You rubbed your palm against your terrified heartbeat.

“Hey,” he greeted you like it was normal to stand around in the middle of the night.

The cool sand threaded through your toes as you walked towards him.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was apprehensive and a foreboding sense of doom gripped your lungs. What if he isn’t part of the Straw Hats? He infiltrated them, and earned their trust, but his true goal was to come here and kill us. It didn’t matter how friendly they all appeared whilst at dinner. Maybe all of them are bad. They’re all hired killers. A memory of warm blood squirting onto your robes, the bandit’s fingers twitching on the floor, and Zoro’s intense, focused expression as his dark eyes met yours through the arcing spray of blood. Your heart skipped and you resisted the urge to run back home. If Zoro was dangerous, then you needed to kill him first and then secure the house.

He said, “’m looking for the kitchen.”

You looked around in case this was a strange stress-induced dream. Or maybe you had missed the creaky step and tripped over Mimi and you were unconscious on the floor.

“You are outside.”

“I got turned around,” he replied nonchalantly, resting his wrist on his sword hilt. “You?”

“I was taking a walk.” You adjusted the front of your robe to ensure it was closed. “I like walking.” Why did I tell him that? He didn’t need to know.

Zoro looked away to the rolling dark blue waves and glittering black sands. The tide was going out, pulling seashells and seaweed with it. Maybe Zoro was drunk. That would explain how he managed to wander out of the house. Great, he’s just a drunken swordsman. Nothing to be afraid of. As much as you wanted to leave Zoro here and let him find his way, you knew Estella wouldn’t be happy if she found out that you abandoned her guest. Drunk or not—you had to help him.

“Can I walk you back to the house?” you asked, “and I’ll even show you where the kitchen is.”

Zoro shrugged. “Sure.”

Your eye twitched. Deep breath, you said to yourself, he’s drunk and lacks social manners.

There was a strange phenomenon that always occurred whenever you took your nightly walks when the walk to the ocean was shorter than the walk home. However, tonight, that phenomenon didn’t happen. You were hyper-aware of Zoro’s nearly silent steps in the sand behind you. The palm trees whispered secrets overhead. The ocean’s lullaby grew quieter and quieter. Every few steps, you wanted to check over your shoulder and ensure he was upright and coherent and didn’t get lost again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tell Zoro to help himself to any food or drink within Estella’s pantry. ‘She won’t drink it all,’ you had said. You stopped before leaving him and gripped the doorframe—a red sun was doodled near your thumb. It was as bright as blood. You swallowed and turned partway to see him. If you were going to say it, then you might as well face him when you did. He leaned against the countertop with the beer bottle’s neck dangling between his long fingers. You couldn’t read his expression. Bored, maybe? He was nowhere near as animated as the rest of his crew. The kitchen light muddled his mossy hair, making it appear a sickly yellow-green.

“Zoro?”

“Hm?” His dark, pensive eyes jumped from a spot on the floor and locked with yours. Now or never, your other hand flexed into a relaxed fist, I would be dead and gone if not for him. You thought of Estella building a statue in your honor, kissing her fingers and pressing her wrinkled palm against your stone cheek.

“Thank you for saving my life.” The words rushed out of you, jumbled and earnest. You blinked back your tears, tilting your face from Zoro before he could notice the telltale glossiness of your eyes. Your heartbeat echoed a lonely thrum in your ears.

The silence stretched, elongating like the streaks of moonlight through shadows of palm leaves. Why hasn’t he said anything? He was drunk, probably, and maybe didn’t hear you. But you couldn’t say it again. It would be mortifying to say it twice.

Your forearm and elbow trembled as the edge of the doorframe bit into your tightly curled fingers.

“It wasn’t personal,” said Zoro, finally breaking his silence.

You nodded, curt and short, and left Zoro to his lukewarm beer and quiet contemplation—or perhaps it truly was boredom.

You skipped the second step on the stairwell because it creaked like a broken ship’s hull and you definitely didn’t want to wake Estella. You were afraid everything would spill out of you if you saw her: your confusion and curiosity about the Straw Hats, your present fears, the tense moments you had shared with Zoro, and the quiet ones shared with Sanji, and the light you saw in her eyes when she shared her trinket room and talked about Pandora.

Your heart was pounding by the time you reached your room and closed the door, leaning your knobby spine against it. You rubbed your tired eyes with your fists. How could one day feel like ten years?

“Mrreooow!” Mimi called from the other side of the door.

“Rat,” you said affectionately, opening it, and following her to your bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: this chapter was supposed to be so much shorter lmao. i hope u are all having a lovely time <3 thank u for reading

#one piece fanfiction #reader insert #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x you #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #zoro x sanji #zoro x sanji x reader #zoro x sanji x you #sanji x zoro #sanji x zoro x reader #opla fanfic #one piece live action fanfic #lets see how long i manage to make little banners for the fic lmao #dont be surprised if i drop them after the third chapter

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