bleachification

[bleachification]

I adore a fantasy/royal au and ATGING has me on the edge of my seat. I just binged it and I need more! I gotta know how this plays out and what secrets reader and dazai are both keeping! Sincerely loving the story and hoping you’ll continue it soon!

im so so glad you’re enjoying it!! that fic is my brain baby and i won’t be dropping it anytime soon :)

[bleachification]

⸻ CH. SEVEN; BELLADONNA MORNINGS

pairing: dazai x reader (fantasy au)

warnings: mentions/themes of drugs

chapter list: this is CHAPTER SEVEN of a multi-chapter fic series. PLEASE read the previous chapters before this one!

link to previous chapters: ATGING

word count: 1.8k

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The poison will not kill you. 

It will not kill me. 

It will not kill me. 

It will not kill me. 

A steady mantra. One that you repeat in your head over and over again. It’s not quite successful at dismantling your fear. 

The clear poison sits in a small glass pot, sealed shut by a wooden cork. There is no more than two ounces in the container, but you have a sinking feeling that such an insignificant amount could drown you if you let it. 

You grasp the top with your hand, apply even steady pressure, and pull. The cork pops off without much resistance.

Your speeding heart accelerates until it twists into a feeling not unlike a heart attack. Sweat rolls down your forehead in beads as you brace yourself. With hands far from stable, you turn the vial to its side, letting only a singular droplet fall from its rim and onto the wooden spoon below. Such a small amount could so easily be mistaken for a drop of rainwater. Unassuming and deadly. 

Your hands are still trembling even as you bring it to your lips. Your heart thunders in your ears and your face flushes as you try not to hurl. Time stretches to what feels to be an eternity, but is likely only a few seconds. It is a miracle that you are able to even lift the spoon to your lips with how badly you are shaking. 

3… 2… 1…

The crystal liquid touches your tongue.

Fire runs through you. Burning, searing, excruciating. You collapse onto the stone floor, mouth agape as you draw in heaving breaths. It is torture. Your innards are ablaze. Melting from the inside out. 

Holy shit. 

Holy shit. 

Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit—!

The pain is so unbearable that words and sound refuse to come out of your mouth. All you can do is writhe in silent agony, your mind screaming for the torture to stop. 

It eventually does. The relief is so welcome…so sweet that you feel your entire body, weighed down by exhaustion and drenched in sweat, physically relax. You lay on your side for a little while more, taking deep, full breaths, before your mind fully clears. You are still fatigued, but it seems you have recovered from the worst of the physical trauma.

You shudder. The strange mixture of poison is potent, yes, but you never anticipated such visceral pain. You dread the following weeks, your body already tensing in fear at the thought of having to experience it again.

But it must be done. Every agonizing drop is one step closer to an almost unattainable goal. A goal that you must achieve, no matter the sacrifice. And a hefty one it shall be. 

You glance at yourself in the mirror and balk at the person staring back at you. God, your skin…pale couldn’t even begin to describe it. It looks like every ounce of blood was drained from your body. Undertones of blue and purple mar the translucent surface. You run a hand along your wrist, up your lower arm. The veins are so prominent. It’s a wonder you’re still awake. The harsh bags under your eyes definitely don’t help your case. The weeks of restless nights are quickly catching up to you. 

“I really couldn’t have found a less painful poison, could I?” 

When no one but the empty silence answers, you sigh and stash the bottles away. 

Thankfully, Dazai is gone for the next few days on an expedition. Without any distractions, you can properly recuperate. Your body is still experiencing some of the aftershocks of the poison. Other than the fact that you feel like absolute shit, your hands also haven’t stopped trembling. Your mouth is strangely dry as well, and you’re positive you feel a migraine coming on. 

With a shaky inhale, you slowly trudge your way to your soft, incredibly inviting bed and practically collapse onto the cushions. Within seconds, you’re out, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

You are jolted awake by loud banging sounds. Someone’s at the door, and it seems they are desperately trying to break it down with how hard they’re hitting it. 

“Y/N! Open this door!” 

Dazai?

He shouts your name again and the door shakes in protest at his strikes. The noise. It’s all too much. Your head is ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing—

“I will kick down this damned door!”

“Just wait!” You call out, coughing at the scratchy pain in your throat. Your voice comes out weirdly hoarse as you try to stop his yelling. Your vision is swimming. 

“Now!”

Fuck. 

You drag yourself out of bed and groan at the sudden motion. The whole world is swimming, actually. 

Another loud bang. 

You are genuinely going to kill him. 

Thankfully, the curtains are closed, staving off the brightness of either the moon or sun—you aren’t sure which. You had a strong feeling the light would have made the pain in your head even more unbearable. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Just give me—!” You barely have the handle turned all the way before the door is violently flung open. You stumble, the momentum lurching you forward as the door swings out. 

Dazai stands before you, surrounded in a cold fury that is freezing the air.. It quickly wakes you up. 

“What in the hell are you doing?” 

He stares at you, eyes roving across your face as he inspects you. Whatever he is looking for, he does not find. With a sharp breath, he sweeps past you and into the room. A wave of his hand brings forth three Kingsguard; tall imposing gentlemen clad in shining battleplate and deep red ornament. Two of them come to stand by your side, hands resting on their encrusted scabbards, forming a flank. 

“Find it,” Dazai commands. 

The third guard walks forward… and rips open your cabinet doors. Papers fly into the air before falling haphazardly to the floor, making a mess of your desk. 

You’re struck with a bolt of sheer panic. 

“What? You can’t do that. Hey! You can’t do that!”

“Guards.”

The two men beside you shift to block your advancement. They each have a hand on your shoulder, solid but gentle. 

“You piece of shit. How dare you?” You hiss, venom dripping from your words. 

“Search the room. Everything. Bring me what you find.” Dazai’s voice is cold. Strange. He looks genuinely angry. 

He can’t do this. 

“No! Let me go!” You shriek, struggling against the bulky arms clamped around you. The men prevent you from moving even an inch forward. 

Dazai doesn’t look at you. His attention is too focused on what he is searching for. 

The poison. The vials. 

No no no no no no no….

If he’s looking for poison… if he finds it—

A guard hurries up to Dazai, holding something in his palm. The vial. The white belladonna.  

No. 

Dazai nods. The knight hands the bottle over and he inspects it, twisting it between his fingers. Dazai stills, watching the liquid splash against the glass case. 

A tense second passes. 

“Continue searching.”

The guard nods and scurries away, placing the vial on a random shelf before continuing the hunt. 

Your knees almost buckle from relief, but you catch yourself and manage to steady your breathing. 

Dazai steps up to you, face inches from yours. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” You answer, exasperated. Your breathing is heavy and in bursts, unlike Dazai’s controlled coldness. You want to break that composure down, piece by piece. 

He doesn’t answer you. Instead, his eyes flit across your face, probing for any hint of deception. You are all too confused. He finds none. Dazai steps aside, head dropping backward as he stares at the ceiling for a moment to gather his thoughts. He lets out a long exhale before waving a hand, dismissing the guards. 

The instant they let you go, you storm up to Dazai, fury rolling off of you in heated waves. It takes all of your control not to snap his neck with your bare hands. Your breathing is short and laboured. If anger was visually palpable, there would be steam curling from your skin. 

There is not a hint of remorse in his expression. 

Oh, propriety be damned. 

With one swift movement, you whip out a small dagger—the one hidden in your boot—and fling it towards Dazai in blind anger. The blade flies past his face, barely missing his eye, and sticks into the wooden panel behind him. 

You curse your wobbly aim. The sick effects have not yet fully subsided. 

Dazai blinks. You merely stare back at him, anger not subsided in the slightest. Wordlessly, he turns, plucks the dagger from the wall, and inspects it with interest. 

“How violent.” He twirls the dainty thing between his fingers before turning to smirk at you. “I like it.”

Your hands are shaking. Out of anger? Adrenaline? Anxiety? A mix of them all, most likely. 

“What a pity you moved at that last second. So scared of losing an eye?” 

He quirks an eyebrow. “Would one measly eye truly satisfy you?”

“No. I deal with equivalent exchange. An eye for an eye…” You tilt your head, gaze blank as you mentally push away unpleasant memories. “And a head for a head.”

Dazai shifts. A flash of sadness cuts across his face before he looks away. 

You straighten, jaw clenched. Unprepared and unwilling to face his emotions. Whatever he feels, whether it be guilt or confusion or delight in manipulating you, is none of your concern. 

“Are you going to apologize for what just occurred?” You ask, effectively changing the topic. 

“The door was locked.”

You don’t even remember locking it. You must’ve done it before ingesting the poison. 

You raise your arms and sweep them wide, gesturing at the space around you.“And? It is my room.”

Dazai’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Do you not…?”

When you merely stare at him in blank confusion, he throws his hands up and begins to pace the floor in agitation. 

“You have been asleep for an entire week! You have been locked up in here, unchecked upon—I swear I will deal with those traitors shortly—and unresponsive to over an hour of my calls!”

Your right eye twitches. “And that gives you the right to invade my privacy?”

“I was concerned,” he answers plainly. 

“I have no need for your concern. It is misplaced.”

“No it is not,” he responds sharply. 

You rub the back of your neck and sigh. There’s no point in attempting to argue with him—not when his stubbornness could bore a hole through steel with its sheer will. 

“What were you looking for then? You owe me that answer, at least.”

Dazai hesitates. “It…” he frowns and his brows crinkle, as if he was trying to formulate his thoughts. 

You stand there, arms crossed, waiting. “Well?”

“A certain…substance.”

You blink. “Drugs?”

He hesitates again. “…Yes. I was searching for a drug.”

—

˚ · . tags: @bababahannah @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007 @letsliveagaintoday @lacunanonymoused @bejeweledgirl @nat-the-gayass-down-bad-mf

[bleachification]

⸻ EVERYTHING IS BLUE

pairing: dabi x reader

word count: 2.2k

synopsis:  when life gave you a second chance to meet your supposedly dead childhood friend, you never expected it to be in the form of a villainous encounter. your once beloved toya is now dabi—a cruel, twisted silhouette of the gentle boy he used to be. 

note: includes mentions of grief and insomnia

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There is a very famous saying: Love conquers all. 

Supposedly love transcends time. 

Space. 

Death. 

It buries sin and cures suffering, lightening the world and its burdens. It is presented with such a peculiar resemblance to what some herald as Heaven’s gift from above—a sublime feeling only justifiable by the overpowering divine or mystical. You see it in the stars; unreachable. In the sunsets and dawn; dazzling.

But you also see it in the darkness; for the act of love has made fools of many, robbing them blind of reason and humanity. It has made liars and killers—corrupted and instilled madness. And it seldom lets its victims go. 

Love creates weakness. 

You vowed to never let it make you weak again. 

After all, the last time almost killed you. But who could blame you? Toya was dear to you. Toya was special. The closest thing to a soulmate you could ever fathom. The boy was your childhood best friend and the earliest memory of happiness you can recall. Now, that is all he is—a distant, fleeting memory that whispers of fractured promises and bygone dreams. He is never more than a nostalgic breeze tickling your skin, or a particularly bright star on an early winter night. 

He exists between the lines of your past. Simply there. But never next to you. Never in arms reach. 

As time passed agonizingly, you had slowly begun to forget the most basic things, such as the bright tenor of his laugh and the soft sound of his steps—sensations you used to know by heart. 

Sometimes, you can only remember the features of his face by looking at an old photograph you had kept. It is one of black and white film, stained on the back and crinkled at the edges from the wear of time. In it, Toya is smiling, a small hand raised up in a wave at whoever was behind the camera. You can’t remember. 

Was it your mother? His? You hope it was the former. She always adored Toya.   

His left arm was slung over your shoulder and the both of you had cake and icing smudged on your faces, courtesy of one another. 

That day—your birthday—is one of the last times you saw him alive. 

So why on earth do you see that little boy in the eyes of a villain?

The face of a young man covered in gnarled purple scars is plastered across the city. Video footage from a high speed chase is being shown in an emergency broadcast on every single screen covering the downtown core. 

His name is Dabi. Prominent member of the League of Villains. It is an organization the Pro Heroes—your colleagues—are adamantly trying to dismantle. 

The man’s picture is blown up on the big screens alongside three other criminals, each involved in the chase currently carving through the city blocks.

Something about him is so familiar, but you can’t grasp exactly what. 

Grief and nostalgia must be playing tricks again. To see a dead child’s face in a villain’s visage is ridiculous.

Laughable. 

But it wouldn’t be the first time you had… hallucinated Toya’s image. 

With a sigh, you peel your dry eyes away from the ward’s television and shut the channel off. The room is eerily silent in the late night, void of the tv’s noise. You like it. Silence helps calm the mind. Settles the chaos. 

You stand and make your way out of the ward, down the empty hallway, and into your personal office. The room is clean and tidy, the only thing out of place is a stack of research papers strewn across your mahogany desk. You round the corner and settle into the soft velvet seat of your armchair before running your right hand along the underside of the table. A familiar click sounds as you locate the button and a small cabinet pops open from the left shelf. 

Three bottles sit inside. Unassuming white ones with generic labels. You pop the smallest bottle open and dump a pill out. The red medication tastes like chalk as it grazes your tongue. 

After a second of consideration, you take another, hoping these sleeping pills will be strong enough to stave off the nightmares and vivid hallucinations. 

Hope. It’s such a small word, but also such a large one. Hope was all you had at one point. It was the only thing grounding you to a reality without him. You had hoped it was all a mistake—a joke, even. Toya would pop his head from the corner and yell: “Gotcha!”

He would be fine. Alive. 

Anything but a husk of a human, burnt beyond recognition, suffocating in the flames of his own blood.

Now, hope is nothing but a pretty word to throw around when meaning is lost. 

You close your eyes and lose yourself to a dreamless sleep. 

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　  

You are experiencing a startling sense of deja vu. The television glitches, interrupting regularly scheduled programming. A familiar figure appears. 

I, Toya Todorioki, was born as the eldest son of Endeavour. 

The world—your world freezes. The only thing you can comprehend is the man on your screen.

You stand up, shaking. Then, you run. Heroes and medical staff alike shout after you, but it all fades into a blur. There is only one destination in your mind—and it is a dangerous, painful place. 

It doesn’t take long for you to locate him. The city is in turmoil, buildings have been razed to the ground and rubble covers the once bustling space. You spot Shoto and his father up ahead, mere steps away. And in front of him stands Dabi—no—Toya. Your Toya. 

His hair is white now, the natural color no longer concealed once he revealed his identity. The scars have spread from the last time you saw him online. No matter. You knew it. You knew it was him. How could you forget?

Enji rasps out something in disbelief. 

Toya only smiles wide and responds with a sardonic confirmation. You could see it in their eyes—a living nightmare had come true for the Todoroki family.

But you? All you cared about was reaching Toya. None of them have seen you yet, so you take advantage of that by quietly making your way closer. The muffled voices turn clearer as the distance shrinks. Toya is speaking to his father and brother, words spilling out in frantic turmoil. The rawness of his voice rings through. Such intense anger and hatred cannot be faked. The two others are stricken by Toya’s address. You don’t blame them; the brutality of his language guts even you. 

Shoto notices you first. His eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, but Toya notices anyway. Your old friend whips around in your direction. You freeze as his eyes land on you. Recognition immediately flashes across his face.

His face. You feel as though you have been hurtled through space and time, brought back to simpler days. A scraped knee on the playground. Food fights in the cafeteria. A million pinky promises made.

A kid you called your best friend, reduced to ash and bones. 

These memories, both awful and radiant, wash over you with so much force you almost collapse. You silently praise yourself for keeping upright against the emotional onslaught. 

“Y/N, get out of here!” Shoto yells out, urging you away in a panic. 

You ignore him. Nothing else exists right now. Not Shoto. Not his father. Only him. 

“Y/N.” The way Toya says your name is almost questioning. As if he can’t believe you’re even here. 

You’ve somehow ended up right before him. Inches separate you, if barely. 

“Hi Toya,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. It would crack otherwise. 

He’s stunned, looking like the air was knocked from his lungs. Seconds fade into forever as his familiar gaze locks onto yours, searching—but for what, you can’t tell. It takes a moment for him to seemingly gather himself. The cynical persona quickly slides back into place.

“This is a nice surprise, but I’m afraid you have me all wrong. Toya is dead, Y/N. Dabi is all that is left—all that I am.”

You swallow. The air tastes of blood. “Somehow I don’t believe that.”

Don’t? Or won’t?

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you believe. C’mon, Y/N! Don’t tell me you still have faith in who I used to be. That kid you knew is dead. Gone forever.”

You shake your head, refusing to take in his words.

“And yet, you’re standing right in front of me… how…?” Without thinking, you raise a hand up to touch his cheek. You’re operating on instinct, not logic. It's the instinct to comfort him—just like he did for you when you were children. 

But you stop yourself right before making contact with him, unsure. Toya’s gaze flits to your hand for a split second before returning to your face. There’s a question in his eyes—one you aren’t sure either of you can answer. 

“Why pretend you care? It’s cruel,” he murmurs, a subtle accusation coating his tone.

“What are you talking about? Of course I care.” You answer, bewildered. 

Pretend? How could he even begin to think that? When you’ve spent your entire life missing him?

“Then why did you move across the world the second you hit adulthood? You couldn’t even stay.”

“I thought you were dead. I mourned you. I grieved until what felt like my last breath. I left because every single second I stayed felt like reliving your death all over again.”

“And when you finally came back you were, what, healed? Moved on?” He laughs bitterly, arms spread in mockery. 

“Moved on?” You shake your head, the pain in your throat almost suffocating. “I saw you everywhere. Not just in dreams and nightmares. Hallucinating a dead person… I thought I was losing my mind! Even right now I’m praying this isn’t some sick, twisted nightmare.”

He drops his arms as well as the smile on his face. “Well, you’re in luck, Y/N. This is very much real. See, I thought things could change. That the consequences meant something to them. They lived my death and nothing happened! They saw what it did to me—the power, the ego, the fucking obsession that ruined this family—and did nothing!

“He’s a disease, don’t you get it? They all are. I’m simply here to rid the world of that sickness. I’m the cure, Y/N. I’ll burn the rot right out of the earth.”

Endeavour scrambles. “Son, don’t do this! Don’t—!”

“Son? Son?” Toya sneers. “You lost that right a long time ago, oh mighty Number One Hero.”

“Toya, please.”

He turns back to you. “No. Sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but you don’t get to participate in this dance.”

“What? No, Toya wait–”

An arm circles your waist before you can get another word out, and all of a sudden, you’re being carried away at breakneck speeds. 

Your screams are lost to the wind. 

An explosion in the distance. Red taints the sky and fills your vision. 

You have never felt so helpless.  

The next time you see Toya—the little that is left of him—is at the end of it all. He is confined. Half-alive. Burnt beyond recognition. It is like he is dying all over again. 

“I should hate you.”

You sit at his bedside, speaking your turn after his family just left. 

Toya is… tired. You can see it in his eyes—at the lack of fire. The passionate, ambitious boy you once knew is truly and utterly gone. 

But some of his kindness has returned. Or perhaps he has just accepted his fate, which is all the more heartbreaking. 

“You’ve done… terrible things. Hurt so many people,” you pause, considering your next words. Three tiny things lodged in your throat, struggling to be set free into the world. “You hurt me.”

He doesn’t look at you. You’re not sure if that’s any worse than his silence. 

“I didn’t think you would ever hurt me,” you whisper. 

Silence drags on for what feels like the longest minute of your life. He still has not turned his head. Still has not acknowledged you. Your heart sinks. Maybe this really is it. Maybe there’s no affection left—all of it burned up with the last of his lingering sentiments. 

You stand up, turning your back to him, ready to leave. For good. 

“I didn’t think I would either,” Toya murmurs. 

His soft voice breaks the silence—and it is overwhelming. 

You haven't turned around to face him yet. 

“In another life, would you have stayed?” 

“I…” he swallows, voice rasping. “I don’t want to leave this life. Don’t want to leave you behind… not again.”

Tears are streaming down your face. You don’t care; you sit back down right next to him, where you rightly belong. The ache in your chest is so heavy you think it might pull you to the ground and bury you below its surface to try and muffle your misery. You almost wish it did. 

Despite the pain, you muster out your next question. 

“You think we could be happy?” You take Toya’s wounded hand in yours and gently squeeze, careful not to hurt him. 

To your relief, he doesn’t let go. In fact, he squeezes back. It’s faint but the action is felt. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we could.”

And if another life exists, you are. 

Undoubtedly so. 

[bleachification]

We sail the stars is so gut wrenching omg… you have a lovely way with words…to portray yearning in which a tangible way oh gosh my heart is aching

this is so🥹🥹 thank u sm im glad u enjoy reading the angst as much as i enjoy writing it <3

[bleachification]

⸻ THE PRINCE(SS) & THE PROTECTOR

pairing: zoro x reader

word count: 3.5k

synopsis:  being in love with zoro is not for the weak, especially when such a love is unrequited. so it is all the more confusing when a certain pirate refuses to let you go when you decide to give your heart a break and leave the crew for good.

note: i really need to stop writing zoro fics with an arranged marriage and bodyguard/protector type premise. with that being said… enjoy xoxo

(also yes this is part ONE)

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Thunderstorms are the perfect weather conditions for silent rumination. You isolate yourself in a corner of the ship, eyes closed as rainwater glides down your face in cool streams. With a smile, you breathe in the scent of salt and earth that mingles with the southern winds. 

The crew is below deck, sheltered from the downpour and crackling lightning that splits the skies every so often. They’re all asleep and have been for a while now. You are the outlier. The strange one that decided to sit between a storm and the sea during the devil’s hours. Funnels of black clouds swirl angrily above you as it continues to pour. Your clothes, hair, everything is drenched. Soaked down to the very bones—some particularly weary ones. 

You relish the feeling of the water against your skin for another moment, reviving yourself from the bleak reflections plaguing your mind. By the time you make it inside, a decision was made. 

The next morning, faint sunlight filtered by sparse clouds light up the horizon in hues of soft orange and calm yellow. The water is still. Steady. Almost as if it had forgotten its role as a tempest’s plaything mere hours ago. It’s early. Much too early for most of the crew to be awake, but you can hear a faint tinkering from Usopp’s room and the steady footsteps of another member coming up the stairs to the upper deck.

A familiar silhouette appears in your vision. 

“Morning, Robin,” you say. 

The archaeologist comes to stand next to you and nods. “Good morning. You’re up early.”

“Had a lot on my mind. Doesn’t leave much room for sleep,” you point out. 

“Did you get any?”

“Some.”

She raises a brow, unconvinced. 

“About an hour's worth,” you shrug. 

An arm sprouts up from the railing you’re leaning on. It holds out a mug of steaming coffee. You take the cup gratefully. The smooth liquid warms you up in the crisp autumn air. Robin takes a sip of her own drink before responding. 

“What’s the verdict?” She asks. 

“I’ve decided to go.”

She sighs. “That’s it then. I understand there’s no point in trying to change your mind?”

You shake your head sadly. The past few weeks of turmoil and trepidation cemented that certainty. You can’t stay. Not when the fate of a nation falls on your shoulders… and certainly not with feelings as forbidden as the ones you harbour. 

“Is it because of him?”

“No. No,” you emphasize at Robin's doubtful expression. 

“Don’t lie,” she chides. 

You grimace. “Well, not entirely because of him.”

Robin scans the calm horizon with watchful eyes, a storm of thoughts whirling into action behind that piercing gaze of hers. The archaeologist has always been the most logical out of the crew, favouring rationality over emotion. It is the trait you admire most about Robin and the reason why you sought her counsel specifically, choosing to confide in her—and only her—about the decision you faced. 

“He deserves to know,” she says softly. 

You stiffen, the mere thought making your throat tighten up with anxiety. You shake your head, effectively ending the conversation. At the perfect time too, as one by one the rest of the crew pad up the stairs, ready to start the day. 

Luffy first, bounding up the steps with a large grin. Nami follows, then everyone trickles through the doors. Zoro is last. 

The swordsman yawns and stretches his arms behind his head, taut muscles glistening under the morning sun. He opens one eye, peeking at you from under sleepy lids. Your heart clenches at the lazy smile he greets you with. 

This is going to be difficult. 

“Mornin’,” Zoro mumbles, stifling another yawn behind his fist. 

The rest of the crew bustles about, running around the deck in preparation for the day ahead. You hear Luffy’s excited laugh somewhere in the background followed by familiar shouts of concern and beratement from Nami, Sanji and Usopp, each taking turns to scold the captain’s latest—and no doubt foolish—idea. Whatever it may be. 

The noise and chaos fades away the moment Zoro walks up to you, his warmth surrounding you despite the cold morning temperature. It makes it near impossible for you to focus on much else. Anything else. 

“Hey,” you say. 

He frowns, eyes scanning your face. You resist the urge to touch it, anxious. Was there something on your face? A pimple? An eyelash? 

“What? What is it?” You ask, nerves alight. 

“Did you stay up late?”

You blink, caught off guard. Did you really look that tired?

“Yes,” you answer plainly. There’s no point in trying to hide it from him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Zoro arches a brow. “Why not?” Concern laces the question. You almost crumble, seconds away from confessing the truth you’ve been hiding for weeks, when someone barrels into Zoro, knocking him over and effectively ending your conversation. 

Luffy, unfazed, pops up onto his feet and dusts himself off, his signature toothy smile never having left his face. Despite his right-hand man groaning on the ground next to him, Luffy seems as chipper as ever. 

“Sorry, Zoro!” He apologizes, not sounding very sorry at all. 

“I… hate… you…” Zoro grunts, still recovering from having the wind knocked out of him. 

Luffy only laughs it off and runs back to the rest of the crew, chattering about some new adventure that is bound to be more effort than it is worth. 

“You okay?” You press your lips together in an attempt to stifle a laugh. 

Zoro takes the hand you offer, warm palm wrapping around your own. You can feel rough calluses against your skin—a testament to his training. You pull him up and watch him steady himself. He doesn’t let go of your hand. Nervous, you break contact first. 

He shoots you a puzzled look, but decides against commenting on it. 

“I will be once I knock him upside the head.”

“Let’s not give the poor boy brain damage.”

Zoro snorts. “You mean more than he already has?”

You laugh, the sound almost entirely concealed by a burst of raucous shouts coming from the other side of the deck. Curious, you begin walking over to the crew. Zoro follows suit with his hands in his pockets. As the two of you make your way across the ship’s expanse, the sight of Nami and Luffy arguing comes into view. The others stand off to the side, exasperation and amusement colouring their expressions. 

“It’s too risky!”

“It’ll be fine, why are you being so boring?”

“I am trying to keep us from getting killed,” Nami seethes. Her face is set in a tight scowl that twists her features into something alarmingly frightening. You haven’t seen her this angry in quite some time. 

“Not if we’re careful,” Luffy defends. The captain looks bored and irritated at the same time. 

Nami’s right eye twitches.  

Oh dear. 

“And since when are you careful?” 

“I’m not. But [name] is.” Your captain jerks a thumb in your direction. 

All heads swivel to look at you. 

You raise your palms up, placating. “I… just got here.”

Nami runs up to you, eyes pleading. The ginger-haired woman grabs your shoulders and gently shakes you. 

“Please knock some sense into him!”

You tilt your head and lean to the left in order to peek at Luffy from behind Nami’s frame. The boy scratches the back of his head with a toothy grin. 

“Would you care to explain, Captain?” You ask bemusedly. 

Luffy’s eyes dance with mischief. “We’ve got a mission!”

It’s Zoro that steps in this time. “Just the two of you?”

“Well, yeah,” Luffy answers plainly. 

You gently pry Nami’s hands off. “Why?” 

“You’re the only one who knows the layout of the place,” he explains. 

You frown. “What place?”

“Aracorn Palace,” Robin interjects. There’s a small smile on her face as she watches the situation unfold. Always assessing. Always dissecting. 

Aracorn… such a familiar name. It takes a second before a sliver of memory tickles the edges of your mind. An image forms; one of a mighty castle built from silver and stone erected in the heart of a powerful city. 

You used to travel there for important delegations and social banquets. Luffy is right. You do know the area well. 

“We’re going there? What for?”

“And why only the two of you?” Zoro questions. 

“To be stealthy,” Luffy grins. 

“Right. Stealthy. You.” Zoro stares, unconvinced. 

Luffy ignores his second-in-command. “We’re going to go rescue someone. He’s being kept in the dungeons.”

So many questions. 

“Who is it?”

Robin, again, speaks up. “His name is not important. He may not even own such a thing. His role as an ex-member of an underground information guild named Kleios is what makes him useful to us. An execution date has been set for tomorrow evening, so if we are to save the man, we must do it soon.”

“Well? What do you say?” Luffy's enthusiasm is palpable. 

The rest of the crew watches you, assuming that you would wave it off. The danger is obvious, and you are—among most instances—level headed enough to pull the plug when needed. 

One last adventure. 

You surprise them. 

“I’m in.”

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　  

You should have known it wouldn’t be easy. In fact, you should have known that the entire plan would fall apart because of course it did. Nothing ever seems to go right for the crew. Right now you curse such rotten luck. Although… it isn’t even luck, not really. It’s the captain… Zoro… Nami… Sanji… the whole lot of them! No matter how organized—how meticulous—a plan was, it never actually fucking went to plan. You suppose you’ll miss it. That unmanned chaos. You suppose you’ll miss all of it. As for who you’ll miss most…

“Zoro!” You stare up at the swordsman in both relief and horror. He dangles from a rope ladder, cascaded off the side of a strange looking vehicle—one with wings and whirring motors that suspend its large metal body in the open air. Usopp sits in the pilot seat manning the impressive contraption. Sweat beads on his forehead from concentration. The others are likely protecting the ship from the nation’s naval cavalry. 

 You increase your pace despite the burning sensation in your lungs. Hot on your heels is a stretch of armed guards mixed with strange looking creatures that look to be a gruesome mismatch of different animals—both natural and mythological. 

Chimeras. 

Luffy, for once, listened and fled alongside you when shit hit the fan—albeit with extreme reluctance. The captain was able to deal with the first rush of soldiers and their Chimera, but the monster was vicious and even Luffy struggled. That was a mere one. The royal guard owned five. And all of them, snapping their fanged teeth and snarling in hunger, are quickly closing the distance between themselves and you—their prey. 

The prisoner was long dead. The whole thing was a trap designed to ensnare the Straw Hats, and Luffy and you had walked straight into it. By the time you both realized you had been played, the cavalry had already surrounded you. Thankfully, Luffy was the master of creative escapes. He was not, however, a master of subtle ones. What was originally one guard unit and its accompanying Chimera quickly turned into all of them chasing after you in a vicious frenzy. 

“Don’t engage! We’ll come to you!” You shout towards Zoro, urging him to stay aboard. You can see a sort of panic in his eyes, mottled by excitement. He’s itching to fight. But doing so would be his biggest mistake yet and likely his last as well if he does not heed your words. 

The murderous soldiers are practically breathing down your necks, and even with Luffy trying to fend off as many as possible, you will quickly be overwhelmed by the strength of the Chimeras. The monsters growl and roar as their heavy steps thunder behind you, bloodlust practically soaking them through. If Zoro abandoned the ladder and tried to fight them off… it would be sheer suicide. You won’t let that happen.

Luffy manages to stretch out and grab hold of Zoro in the near distance. With a yell, he swings himself up and grabs you along the way. You yelp, the sudden movement catching you off guard. You shut your eyes as the wind whips you in the face. With a soft thud you land against a warm mass.

Zoro catches you, arms encircling your waist. 

“Are you okay?” He murmurs into your ear. 

You sag into him from relief. “Yes. Is Luffy…?”

“He’s completely fine,” Zoro smirks. 

Luffy, who is sprawled across the floor, gives you two thumbs up in reassurance. You can’t help but laugh. 

“Usopp! Take us away.”

The pilot gives you a smile and a salute before he presses a button and pulls the wheel up. Slowly, you feel the contraption tilt upwards. Smooth and steady. 

CRASH!

Out of nowhere, you and the rest of the crew are violently thrown to the left as something punctures the metal wall of the vehicle and jerks the entire thing back. Before you go slamming into the wall, Zoro twists himself around and cushions the blow. 

“What the hell?” Zoro’s grip on you tightens protectively.

A strange red pincer curls into the crumpled sheet that—just a moment ago—was the side hull. It looks to be the same sort of armour that is found upon the back of a crab, except it bears a darker color. Not unlike a deep pool of blood. Its shape is almost identical to that of a scorpion's tail but riddled with sharp ridges that cover its surface. The thing is the size of your head—a grotesque limb extended from one of the Chimeras, no doubt. 

Zoro and Luffy both immediately jump into action, the former slicing at the pincer while Luffy tries brute force. Neither works. Solid and unbending, the pincer trembles then stills. The next second you are staring into the howling winds and open space. The army roars beneath you, fifty feet below. The ugly beast with the scorpion tail isn’t finished. It narrows its beady eyes and with astonishing speed, it whips its tail upwards, spearing the floor. 

Usopp does his best to recenter, managing to keep everyone upright and away from the gaping hole left by the ripped wall.

“Shit,” Zoro hisses. “The damn thing is too tough. I can’t cut through.”

“I can’t rip it out!” Luffy frowns, throwing punch after fruitless punch at the immovable pincer. 

Panic threatens to overwhelm you.

Shit, shit, shit. Shit!

Something glints in the corner of your vision. A solution strikes you and you scramble towards a device on the floor. 

“The laser cutter! I can–” but your voice is lost to the bellowing winds as the monster yanks its tail once more, causing the entire machine to shake. You fumble with the device and clumsily clasp it in your trembling hands. Vertigo strikes you as you look down for a split second. 

The ground is nearing at an alarming rate.

It’s too close. Too—

Zoro jumps. 

“NO!” You reach out in an attempt to pull him back but you're too late. The fabric of his shirt slips out of your grasp and Zoro goes tumbling down—straight into the unhinged maw of the monster below. 

You aren’t sure if the screams piercing the air are your own or if they belong to the dying men below. With fluid ease, Zoro manages to sidestep the beast. He dives into the mass, slashing through their ranks. It is beyond impressive. 

But it is not enough. 

The Chimeras have zoned in, their attention drawn to Zoro. Snarling and snapping, they circle their prey. 

Its suicide. 

“No…”

Luffy steps forward, ready to leap into the chaos, when familiar shouts sound from below. 

The rest of the crew are here. 

You collapse in relief, adrenaline draining from your body. 

He’s okay.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　  

“This is such a stupid fight,” you sigh. 

“This isn’t a fight,” Zoro frowns, unnerved by the very idea of arguing with you. 

Sanji pipes up. “It sounds like a fight.”

Nami pinches him by the ear and drags the chef out of the kitchen, scolding him as he protests and apologizes. 

“But Nami! They’re in my workspace!”

You and Zoro both ignore him, too preoccupied with the argument at hand. 

“I saved your life. His too. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I’m not going to thank you for your recklessness.”

“And I won’t apologize for it,” Zoro says firmly. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed one day! I refuse to stick around and watch it happen.”

He freezes as he catches onto the underlying meaning behind your words. “What do you mean by that?”

“I…” you hesitate, unprepared for this conversation. You didn’t mean to let news of your departure slip out. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. You’re both too agitated. Too riled up. 

“What do you mean by that?” He echoes. His voice is low and careful, tip toeing on the edge between urgency and trepidation. 

You want to turn around. Walk away. Lie. 

But this is Zoro. A man you entrust with your life and, occasionally, your heart as well. Secrets don’t belong in your relationship—as muddled as it is—and they will only consume what trust you have forged through the years. 

It is time to bear the truth in front of the most terrifying witness. 

With a rough swallow, you tell him everything. Your plan to leave the crew, to retain your birthright, and to finally settle your country’s score, once and for all, by bringing peace through union. A marriage between royal heirs. You and a foreign prince. 

You can’t look at him as the secret you’ve been harbouring finally spills over your lips like oil. If you look at him, you’ll cry. 

“…I leave in two weeks,” you finish. You’re still staring at the ground, heart racing a mile a minute. 

There’s no answer. Silence stretches on for a while, so quiet a person’s breath could be mistaken for thunder. So cloying, it stains your lungs. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You snap your head up, ready to demand a reply from the swordsman, but the look on Zoro’s face wipes anything you have to say from memory. 

Shock, anger, disappointment, sadness. Those are all too shallow of description for the depth of what he is feeling. The best he settles on is desperation. An intensely unpleasant anxiety that borders on panic. That is what currently thrums in his veins. 

You’re leaving…?

“You won’t change my mind Zoro.”

He doesn’t answer. 

“Nothing will,” you add softly. 

Especially not him. 

This is your goal—your dream. He can’t take that away from you no matter how much he resents it. He simply can’t. But he can be angry, can’t he? He deserves that anger. Needs it to keep him sane. But before he can articulate it, you speak up again, turning the subject back to the argument before. 

“The point is you’re too rash.”

He’s barely listening. “It’s my job.”

“No,” you reply firmly. “No it’s not. You put that title on yourself—placed that burden on your own shoulders, never asking for a hand. Not even when so many would offer.”

“I don’t need help. I protect my friends. That’s what I do,” he grits out. 

“Even at your own expense?”

“Yes.”

You scoff in disbelief. “It's idiotic.”

“It’s my duty.”

“So you say!” You throw your hands up, exasperated and frustrated. “But that’s not all it is, is it? You fear losing that part of yourself—the protector, the bodyguard, the shield—because you would lose yourself in the process. Your entire life—your purpose—does not revolve around meaningless self-sacrifice and protecting us from a world we choose to exist in!”

He scoffs in sheer disbelief. “And you? What exactly is your role? Don’t you dare stand there and attempt to psychoanalyze me when you’re just a damn coward!”

You suck in a sharp breath, his words striking deep. “I am not a coward.”

“Then why the hell are you running away?!”

“Running? Running?!”

He nods, jaw clenched. He avoids looking straight at you—at the hurt in your eyes. “Yes. The only thing you know how to do.”

Anger replaces hurt. “You fucking hypocrite,” you spat out.

He shakes his head. “I’m just calling it like I see it.” 

“You are nothing without your so-called duty,” you hiss. “So you do not get to judge mine.”

“Is that why you abandoned it in the first place? I wonder where this valiant change of heart came from.”

“You could never understand.”

He drops his gaze to the floor and takes a heavy step back. Zoro can barely look at you. “You’re right. I could never understand turning my back on people who needed me.”

Those are the last words he says to you. The next morning, you are gone. All of your things and belongings cleared from your room—like you had never existed on the ship in the first place. 

[bleachification]

Hi

How are you? Are you ok?

hi! yes i am doing fine :) just super busy !! definitely am still writing + working on fics tho<3

[bleachification]

burnout has me working on a new zoro fic so stay tuned <3

gonna be a little angsty and a little dramatic and a little sweet (my bread and butter)

[bleachification]

⸻ CH. SIX; A HAVEN FOR ONE IS A HAVEN FOR NONE

pairing: dazai x f!reader (fantasy au)

warnings: mentions/themes of war and violence

chapter list: this is CHAPTER SIX of a multi-chapter fic series. PLEASE read the previous chapters before this one or you will be very lost!!

link to previous chapters: prologue

word count: 1.6k

+ + + + + + + + + + + +

Dinner is interrupted by the screams of dying men. You are halfway through your second flute of champagne and getting increasingly irritated at Dazai’s tardiness when the world outside explodes in a kaleidoscope of smoke and flames. At first, you are unable to grasp the situation when the attacks strike, but as you slowly turn to the looming floor-to-ceiling windows sprawled across the wall to your left, you swiftly become all-too aware of the current reality. The glass panels act as a clear, unfiltered lens to the horrors unfolding. Each succeeding blast is powerful enough that their tremors breach the palace walls, splitting open the floor tiles. In just two minutes time, you count three in total. 

Dazai still has not arrived for dinner. 

BOOM!

Four in total. 

The city—no—the Kingdom is on fire, and terror spreads across the land. It is so dark, so palpable, you can feel its heavy weight in your veins. All you can do is sit and stare through the safety of the palace, nestled on a hilltop miles above the carnage ravaging its nation’s people. 

The servants gasp and shriek, panic blinding them to reason. Warning bells ring in cacophony. The explosions do not stop. 

Five. 

A gentle but firm hand grips your shoulder. “Your Highness, we must leave. It is dangerous–!” The butler never finishes his sentence. One moment he is urging you to action, the next he is frozen. The elderly man gasps, and it is the last thing he does before dropping to the floor. Dead. 

You shoot out of your seat, hands trembling. Blood seeps from a huge gaping wound in his chest. From it, a large hunk of metal juts out. A mere moment ago, the object had flown through the window so fast that if not for its size, you would have mistaken it for a hunting arrow. But an arrow it could never be. The horribly large instrument’s identity was clear to you. The butler had been killed by a stray fragment of shrapnel.

Blood-curdling screams echo across the room. The servants, faced with the corpse, all scramble out in fear and disgust. You are the only one left in the dining hall. Well. You and the dead man, together in the dining hall that no longer resembles its namesake. Glass litters the floor, rained down when the debris broke through. Meals and flutes of wine have found new homes on the ground, the latter mixing with the pungent iron puddle pooling around the butler. It is a disaster. Carnage. Violence in its rawest form.  

Six. 

You start to feel sick. 

The door bursts open, just another background noise in the midst of chaos. In a daze, you reach for a table corner to steady yourself, not bothering to check who had just rushed in. You don’t need to. The footsteps are all too familiar—Dazai has finally arrived. 

“[Name]. You’re alright. Thank god.” Dazai’s tone slightly wobbles, but the panic in his eyes subsides when he sees you. “Come with me. There is a safe passage–“

Dazai reaches out to you, a gentle hand resting on your shoulder, but you wrench yourself out of his grasp. 

“No.”

He shakes his head. “[Name], I have no time for any stubbornness you may–”

Again, you refute him. “I’m not being stubborn! How dare you accuse me of such a thing in this situation.”

“Then what will you call this?” He gestures to your stillness, unmoving even as Dazai gently tugs on your arm. “Just…orderly defiance? Disobedience? Pure and utter rebellion? Should I go on?!”

“I do not need nor want to enter whatever safe house you have conjured up for emergencies such as this,” you scoff. 

“Are you even hearing yourself? Yes, precisely! An emergency. Which means you have to evacuate somewhere safe!”

Safe? A man has just died in front of you while trying to help you. The earth is giving way to explosives; craters forming underneath fresh footprints and innocent flesh. There is nowhere safe. 

“Leave me be. Go attend to your people.”

Dazai falters. “Are you joking?” At your serious expression, he steps closer. Incredulity colours the sharp planes of his face. “Did you hit your head?”

“With what motive would I have to joke in these circumstances?”

“Then why are you asking for such a ridiculous thing? We must ensure your safety. I must.”

“My safety? Despite…” You wave your hand at the body on the floor. “This? My safety is not a priority. It should not even be a concern.”

“What on earth are you talking about? You are the throne’s–”

“I am one person! One. Meanwhile, hundreds of people are dying as we stand here and argue. Your people. I may despise you, but I won’t take that hatred out on civilians. I will not hide away in a corner while others are suffering. I refuse to.”

Dazai’s demeanor softens. Just a tad. “What exactly do you expect to do?”

“To investigate. To aid the injured and frightened. To help in any way possible and end this madness.” You run a hand through your hair, the sounds of assault has stopped, but the screams from the aftermath still echo the skies. Every moment stood arguing with Dazai is another moment lost. You itch to run. 

“That is beyond your capability and not your responsibility.”

You ignore the slight dig from the first part. “Then what is? Am I not one half of the crown? Partial to this nation’s leadership?”

“You are, but–”

“But what? What could possibly–”

“You are not one of us! You are…”

An outsider. 

You take a step back. “I never claimed to be one of you.” It is not something you’d ever desire either—to belong to a traitor's nation. 

“[Name]. That’s not what I meant.” Dazai reaches out, but freezes at your retreat. His arm lowers and he sighs defeatedly. 

“Is it not? You’re right. I’m not one of you. I am from the Empire—from enemy lands. An invader. Not even a polished crown and fancy title could erase that, could it?”

“That is… besides the point.” You both know it is not. “You cannot go out there.”

Your foot taps against the hardwood floor, impatient and driven by nerves. “And why not?”

“Who do you think is attacking us?”

“I…” you falter. A moment passes. “I don’t know.”

For almost a millennia, the Kingdom has had no enemies other than the Empire, but the nations had eventually come to a peace agreement. That was the entire point of your marriage to Dazai.

“The people here have lived under the cloak of war for decades. Years and years of devastation have turned them against the Empire. In their minds—even if it’s untrue—your nation is the perpetrator. As it always has been to them. Even if we are allies on paper, the victims of the past will not forget such brutalities. If you go out there…”

Shit. He’s right. 

You sigh, relenting. “I’ll likely be torn to shreds just for the blood running through my veins.”

He winces. “Unfortunately.”

You slump into a chair behind you, hands rubbing against your weary face in an attempt to weather away the fatigue. “Then if not my father, who is responsible? You must have a guess, at least.”

Dazai’s eyebrows scrunch together like they always do whenever he thinks. “I… yes. Yes, of course. It is most likely a rebellion group acting against the royal lineage. One of the four noble families’ doing. I will assign someone to investigate immediately.”

You swallow, unconvinced. There is no indication that Dazai is lying, but for whatever reason, doubt stirs unsettlingly in your gut. You push it down in favor of gaining more information. 

“The head houses of the nobility? They oppose the crown? I thought they were pillars of the monarchy—there to maintain your throne.”

Dazai lets out a sharp bark of laughter, humorless at best. “My father’s throne. Not mine.  These days, those vultures will do anything to pick away at my reign until there is nothing left. Then, they’ll swoop in, laying claim to the country and its fortunes.”

You shift uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond or react to his sincerity. So you decide to change the subject instead. 

“We’re wasting time. The attacks have stopped, but the people still require… your help.” 

Not mine, you think. They would sooner accept my death than my aid. 

Dazai opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, but is interrupted by the frantic call of another. A short soldier with sullied armour rushes inside, chest heaving from exertion. 

“Sire!” The young man closes the distance with short but swift strides, straw blonde hair matted to his forehead from sweat and grime. 

“Kenji. Report.”

“Six devices. Each manually detonated.” The soldier salutes. 

The news falls upon you like a sack of stones. 

“You’re telling me…?” 

Kenji grimaces at the low snarl his liege makes, and perhaps at the fury in your eyes as well. “Yes, sire. The explosives were set off by suicide bombers. They were all in public, high-traffic, civilian areas.”

Oh god. Oh god!

“How many?” Dazai sounds murderous. 

Kenji looks down, the soldier seeming much younger in that instance. A child. One that has no business in battlefields and suits of armour. “Four-hundred and thirteen. That we know of.”

“Capture?”

“One. Tried to bite his pill, but we got him in time.”

“Cellar B?”

“Correct, sire.”

Dazai nods slowly. “Send Fukuzawa down to meet me there. Tell him it is High category.”

Without another word or glance to anyone, the king turns and walks out, leaving you to wade in a deep, numb tension that seems to want to engulf you in its misery. Kenji hurriedly scurries after him, and the moment you are alone, your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths turn into strangled heaves, and a familiar despair overwhelms you. 

With your head in your hands, for the first time since arriving, you let yourself weep.

—

˚ · . tags: @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007 @letsliveagaintoday @lacunanonymoused @bejeweledgirl @nat-the-gayass-down-bad-mf

[bleachification]

hi guys !! i have a short chapter of all that glitters is not gold finished (~1.5k words). just wondering if you would rather i just post that now or wait until i have the time to write more :) either way, it is already posted on my ao3 (hoshify) if you are interested in reading it <33

[bleachification]

⸻ WE SAIL THE STARS PT. 2

pairing: zoro x reader

word count: 2.1k

synopsis: As the sole heir of a prosperous and powerful kingdom, you have long forsaken personal desires, placing your country’s needs above all else. When talks of political marriage turn into formal certificates and a pending ceremony, you find yourself locked in a delicate struggle between duty and the pulls of a forbidden love.

Roronoa Zoro is a man of few words, but slightly more when he is by your side—which is practically every moment of every day. As your personal guard, the knight is sworn to protect you against all threats, including the existence of his own illicit feelings—ones that he must keep hidden. But can he truly do so?

note: PART ONE OF THIS FIC: we sail the stars

+ + + + + + + + + + + +

Your day begins with orchestra symphonies and sea lilies—a perfectly woven setting for idyllic matrimony. It is the embodiment of a dream wedding for someone else, under very different circumstances. Nonetheless, the venue is utter visual perfection. 

Until everything goes wrong… to an almost impressive degree. 

You are only halfway down the aisle, rose petals crunching under your heels, when the blackout occurs. In the span of a breath, every single candle lining the windows and aisles loses its flame, and the heavy crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling quickly die out in succession. One blink, and the hall is entirely robbed of all its light. 

Plunged into complete darkness and disarray, anxious voices swiftly fill the venue, each one louder and more frantic than the previous. A familiar voice rings out from the far left, shouting your name across the clutter, but before you register who it is, thick arms encircle your waist from behind in a tight lock and the sweet stench of chloroform fills your lungs.  

Panic shoots through your bloodstream, seizing your movements. For one terrifying second, all you can do is freeze in horror. This is how you die. Weak, scared, and alone. With no witnesses, no one to intervene, no one to save you. If Zoro were here—if you had not pushed him away and cast him aside over such petty grievances—this never would have happened. If only you had just been stronger, faster… smarter. 

If only….

Awful, deprecating thoughts engulf your hazy mind, slowly imbuing your panic with something much deadlier—surrender. Somewhere in the background, piercing shouts fade into muffled murmurs, and your consciousness dutifully follows, slowly slipping away from your slackening grasp on reality.

A sudden, shrill scream snaps you out of your stupor. 

Mom. 

Her cry cuts off abruptly, and that is enough to shake you. Your senses return in full force, along with the painfully dry sensation in your lungs. Her distress sets your nerves alight, and you immediately begin thrashing. Limbs flailing, you try your best to pull yourself away—to get out of your assailant’s suffocating hold. Now, all your thoughts revolve around your mother’s survival instead of your own. 

Can’t breathe. 

Your throat and eyes burn as the chemicals continue to invade your senses. There isn’t much time left. You have to do something…anything!

A sudden thought strikes you. A small memory tickling the back of your mind—something Zoro once mentioned to you offhandedly during a training session. Something about… 

That’s it. 

You brace yourself, and with as much force as you can muster in your sluggish state, you slam your elbow into your attacker’s side. Sharp bone meets soft flesh, and a flicker of satisfaction comes to life when you feel the depth of your strike.

You hear a loud grunt, and the pressure around your waist loosens a little, but the man grabbing you is sturdy and unrelenting. 

It’s not enough.

Your heart thunders. 

Frenzied voices fade into silence. 

With one last thought, you lose consciousness. 

I hope your ribs are broken. Bastard. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

ZORO

The room is spinning. 

It hadn’t been very long since you left—thirty minutes at most. Zoro had been polishing away, desperately trying to suppress the strange ache in his chest and his intrusive thoughts full of haunting imagery of you walking down the aisle, when the Queen herself breaks down his door. The woman, who usually exudes elegance and regality with every heeled step she takes, is stripped of any and all poise. Mascara runs down her cheeks in grey streams and her dress is torn at the hems, frayed edges brushing against the stone floor. She stumbles past the threshold and her glazed eyes meet Zoro’s own. A flicker of hope comes to life in them at his presence, but still, the queen’s dignified features are marred with fear, distress straining her every word as she chokes out sobs. 

Immediately, Zoro’s blood runs cold and a sinking feeling washes over him. Your mother, gaze wide with panic, runs up and grips his arms. Her manicured nails draw blood as she digs into him. Zoro barely notices. 

“You must help [name]. You must!”

No. 

He can’t answer. There’s a clotting sensation in his throat. Like a handful of cotton rounds were shoved down his gullet. 

“I cannot lose my child! Not like this! Not like…” She collapses, shivering. Her cries continue, but Zoro can hear none of it. 

The room is still spinning. 

The swordsman steps back and bumps into the table. A hoarse sound rips from his throat. He tries to speak—barely managing coherency. 

“Your Majesty. Is [name] hurt…? Who?!” Zoro’s tone is harsh. Cracked. Much too abrasive to be addressing the queen, but he finds himself foregoring propriety. He can’t bring himself to care for it. Not when you are seemingly in danger. 

The queen is far too absorbed in her own shock and grief to answer Zoro’s frantic questions. He is about to run out, blindly searching for you within the palace, when someone comes running down the hallway and stops right in front of the open doorway. It takes the knight a moment to realize who it is, and when he does, the world tints red.

“You,” He snarls. 

Sanji raises his hands. “Look, I just—” 

It doesn’t matter what the prince was about to say because he doesn’t get a chance regardless. Zoro grabs the blonde by the collar and throws him backward with brutal force. Sanji collides against the wall, pinned by Zoro’s forearm pressing against his neck. 

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sanji spits, hands pulling at the unrelenting muscle threatening to choke him. 

“What did you do to [name]? TELL ME!”

“Are you out of your damn mind?!”

Maybe. Yes. It most certainly feels like it. He is going mad. It is the only explanation for the emotions overwhelming him—for the shrieking beast inside him; a red hot fury clawing at his innards for release. Every moment you are gone is another splitting pain bursting anew in his chest. 

“Fucking think, you green-headed brute!” Sanji rasps, trying to get his words through the rage-induced fog consuming his assailant. “And get your paws off me, swordsman. Unless you’d like to waste precious time that could be spent in search of my fiancé.”

“What do you… what do you mean by search?” Zoro’s arm slackens. Sanji uses that chance to shove him away. Zoro doesn’t react, only stares at the blonde in a daze. “[Name] is gone…?”

Sanji rubs his neck and lets out a rough cough before answering. “Taken, actually. Straight from the ceremony.”

“And you just let those bastards do it?! You should have protected them!”

Sanji whips his head up, anger flashing in his eyes. “In case you forgot, that’s your job! If you would have set your ego aside for one second, maybe [name] would still be here! But you didn’t. So now, instead of throwing the blame around like it’s a game of catch, you can shut the hell up and deal with it. We need you to pull yourself together, Commander. It’s the only way we’ll get [name] back.”

“Fine. Fine.” Zoro’s anger doesn’t drain—not completely—but it is overtaken by steely determination as he sobers up to Sanji’s words. As much as he despised it, the prince was right. Saving you was top priority. 

“Gather the corps. This is not only a search and rescue. It is a manhunt.”

Both men set off in silence, their only thoughts center on finding you and making the ones responsible pay. In less than ten minutes, Zoro has his unit of soldiers gathered in the main conference room. Sanji sits across from him, opposite the head of the circular table. 

“What information do we have so far? I….” Zoro’s jaw works as guilt creeps up within. “I was not present.”

“Highly premeditated. They were able to infiltrate your security system flawlessly,” Sanji answers, eyes boring into the swordsman. 

One of Zoro’s advisors speaks up. “We are in an era of peace. The country faces no enemy—no uprising or rebellion. And there has been no claim for this crime. They clearly do not seek ransom, or else we would have received word by now. What would be their purpose?” 

A soldier nervously shuffles. “Commander. We must consider the possibility that—”

Zoro slams his fist down. The stone table cracks under the force. “[Name] is not dead. The next person who suggests such an idiotic thing will have their tongue cut out for heresy.”

Before anyone can linger on the sincerity behind that threat, the sturdy oak doors burst open, hinges squeaking in protest at the sudden force.

Luffy strolls in, a serious expression on his face. A rare sight. 

“Why don’t we just ask [name] ourselves?”

Zoro narrows his eyes at the captain. “What do you mean by that?”

Luffy only ignores him, opting to scan the ceilings in search of something. “Do you hear that? Have you figured it out yet?” 

The soldiers all stare at the boy with a mix of confusion and irritation, the most agitated being Zoro himself. 

“Luffy, I have no time–”

“C’mon, [name]! I know it works.”

Zoro steps forward, but stops dead in his tracks as an eerie crackle flickers to life in the echoing chamber. 

“Hel–Hello? Am I connected?”

Everyone freezes at your soft voice. Zoro barely manages to catch himself as he stumbles in shock and heart wrenching relief. 

You are alive. 

Luffy pipes up. “It’s an emergency communication device. I brought it to [name] years ago, and they had it set up in this very room. The Strategy Hall, right?”

“[Name],” Zoro rasps. All he can focus on is you. Your voice. “Where are you?”

You chuckle humorlessly. “If I had the answer to that, don’t you think I would have told you by now? I was drugged. Blindfolded. Next thing I knew, my surroundings turned into concrete walls and steel bars.”

“I’ll find you.”

Zoro can visualize your smile as you reply. “Zoro, I do not wish for you to blame yourself for this. If anything goes wrong–”

“It won’t. I will find you. That’s a promise.”

A brief pause. No one else has dared to speak a word this entire interaction.

“...Another promise, huh?”

Zoro’s stomach drops at the disappointment in your tone. It kills him that your relationship with him was left on such rocky, uncertain terms. 

His mind is racing, random words tumbling out of his mouth as he struggles to hold himself together and think of the next step. A plan. “How did you know to set the communication device in here?”

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time. “Because I know you, Zoro. I know how you think. How you operate. Is that all you have to ask me? To say to me? You might not have much time left. Best get everything out in the open.”

“Everyone, leave,” Zoro murmurs in a low tone.

The soldiers and advisors quickly shuffle out, even Sanji and Luffy bear no resistance. As soon as the door shuts behind the latter, Zoro collapses into his seat. 

“Please don’t talk like that,” he whispers, head dropping onto his crossed forearms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He mentally kicks himself for not asking that first. So distracted by the news that you were alive, all rational thought fled his mind. 

“A little bruised…a little battered. Only slightly traumatized, but overall I’m alright.”

Zoro nods… then realizes you can’t see him. “Good. Good.”

“I’m… Zoro, I’m really tired. Exhausted, in fact,” you sigh. “I heard them in passing conversation as I came in and out of consciousness. They do not plan on releasing me.”

Zoro stiffens.

“Not alive, at least.”

He starts saying your name, but is cut-off as you continue.

“You were right, we are… ill-fated. Doomed from the beginning for whatever it is we actually are. Two ships passing in the dead of night on unbroken, infinite paths.”

Why does it sound as if you have given up? As if he would not fight through hell itself to bring you back?

“Stop.”

“Zoro, I–”

“Stop.” His voice trembles. 

You sigh, weary and defeated. “Can I say it? Will you let me?”

You don’t wait for an answer and he does not give you one either. Time has run its course.

“I love you, Zoro. I’m sorry I won’t be able to say it in person.”

Those are the last words you utter before the connection flickers out, leaving Zoro alone in an empty silence, with nothing but regret and despair taking hold of him.

FIN.

Okay. Yes, it is an open ending. Please don’t murder me. If people would like, I am open to writing both the original ending (as well as an alternate ending) as shorter epilogues at a later date :P

˚ · . tags: @oonlykooii, @3v37773, @dimplewonie, @heilee, @naomihatake, @sinmp, @mrsspector-grant, @chixkadee, @fangeekkk, @cavillxhenry, @theawkwardbutterfly, @iwillalwaystrustwhoiam, @hollxe1, @bababahannah

[bleachification]

HAPPY NEW YEARS BABIES🫶🫶 so sorry i haven’t been uploading ive been also busy with finals and work and travelling…. promise i haven’t abandoned any fics yet and will be writing and updating soon !

ty all for being here with me in 2024 <3

[bleachification]

⸻ WE SAIL THE STARS

pairing: zoro x reader; fantasy knight/bodyguard au

word count: 5k

synopsis: As the sole heir of a prosperous and powerful kingdom, you have long forsaken personal desires, placing your country’s needs above all else. But when mere talks of political marriage turn into formal certificates and a pending ceremony, you find yourself locked in a delicate struggle between duty and the pulls of a forbidden love. 

Roronoa Zoro is a man of few words, but slightly more when he is by your side—which is practically every moment of every day. As your personal guard, the knight is sworn to protect you against all threats, including the existence of his own illicit feelings—ones he must keep hidden. But can he truly do so? 

note: this is the FIRST part of a TWO-PART fic, you can find the second part here: chapter two ^.^

+ + + + + + + + + + + +

Roronoa Zoro—esteemed Knight Commander of the reigning crown and personal guard to Your Royal Highness—has claimed victory in countless battles, traversed war torn lands, and survived the pull of death more times than imaginable. A hero of living legend, a god amongst mortals… and a man completely defeated by a crying child. 

The young girl barely comes up to his mid-thigh—a small child, no older than six, adorned in purple frills and frock. Her delicate features are twisted into a bitter pout, lips quivering as she summons another wave of torrential tears. Her blonde pigtails sway as she furiously shakes her head and stomps, all the while sobbing through deafening screams. 

“I want my brother!”

Zoro attempts to negotiate again, to no avail. “Your Highness—”

“GIVE ME MY BROTHER!” She wails. 

Zoro tries calming her once more—holding his gloved hands out in a placating gesture. The princess shrieks and hits him against the leg, tiny hands balled up into tight fists. The pain is non-existent, but Zoro’s patience wears thin. He is already far past the point of irritation, for a myriad of reasons beyond just his present situation. 

The morning had not been kind: training was especially grueling under the summer heat and when he had tried to find you afterward, he had been ignored and waved away as you busied yourself for the meeting you are currently occupied with. You had barely spoken more than two sentences at a time to him today—a rare, uncomfortable phenomenon. 

The meeting was for diplomatic matters concerning a neighboring kingdom. Your parents are usually the ones who attend such discussions, which is why the Knight Commander finds it strange that you—as heir—was required to be there.

It has been two hours since the four of you—your parents, the foreign kingdom’s prince, and yourself—have shut yourselves within the soundproof walls of the conference hall.

Zoro briefly wonders how the princess’s guardians could have lost sight of her and why they were not tearing the place apart trying to find her. He shakes his head, clearing those insignificant thoughts away. It would take him more than a millennium to try and understand aristocratic mindsets—plus, doing so would just be a waste of time. 

The princess winds up for another huffy tantrum, but is interrupted by the doors opening. Relief washes over the swordsman.  

Zoro steps aside and bows, instinctively searching for you in the group of people that file out. Your parents greet him with haste and leave, sparing him no second glance. The foreign prince—Sanji, Zoro recalls his name to be—gathers his younger sister in his arms and departs with a wide smile back. It is a moment before Zoro realizes the blonde was directing his grin to you.

When Zoro spots you, he frowns. You’re scowling, lines of tension etched into the planes of your face. 

“Is something the matter, Your Highness?” Zoro grows increasingly concerned at the stony expression you wear. 

What the hell happened in there? He thinks to himself. 

“I’m fine. Let’s go,” you mutter before turning on your heel and marching down the hallway. 

Zoro follows dutifully, his long strides a perfect match for your quickened pace. Usually, he would be careful to slow himself down and monitor his speed so that he would not overtake you whenever he was by your side—which is practically every moment of the waking day. Right now, however, your anger propels you forward. 

“Your Highness–”

“What?” You snap, whirling around on your guard. 

Zoro pauses. You are visibly upset—clenched jaw, glassy eyes, and a glare that stops him in his tracks. 

“[Name]. I would like to know what is bothering you. Let us find somewhere private to converse.” he quietly suggests. Zoro calls you by your name when it is just the two of you.

For a moment, you consider stomping away and shutting yourself in your bedroom, where no one—not even Zoro—can disturb you. But one glance at the worry on his face has you relenting. With a sigh, Your shoulders slump, all tension gone, and you give him a small nod. Wordlessly, you make your way to your private study room. Zoro follows behind in a comfortable silence. 

You shut the door when you both arrive, locking it behind you to keep others out. 

You plop onto the plush sofa, gesturing at Zoro to do the same. He takes a seat beside you, swords clanging against the floor as he adjusts them. Memories of the meeting flood back into your mind and you fight the urge to scream. 

You let your head drop and Zoro stretches his arm out, cushioning you against the hard surface of the couch back. 

A second later, you blurt out: “They are asking for a political marriage.”

Zoro tenses underneath you. “... His and Her Majesties are in talks with Prince Sanji about a political marriage?” 

“Not in talks. They’ve already made their decision. All they needed was my consent,” You sigh. You rub a hand over your face, exhaustion seeping into your bones. “I will accept, of course. I only wish they would have spoken to me beforehand. This has all happened much too fast.”

You peer at Zoro when he stays silent. Your guard’s expression is eerily blank, the only indication of any emotion—shock—is his widened eyes. He turns to you, lips parting. You await a reply, but he only swallows and looks away. 

You hesitate, unsure of how to approach such a reaction. Zoro is far from talkative, but he at least indulges you in conversation. You have never seen him so speechless and uncertain���it makes you nervous. 

“Zoro?”

The only thing he asks is: “You are accepting?”

“I–” You blink, caught off guard by his icy tone. “Yes, I am.”

“I see. You seemed distressed over the news. I assumed you would reject the proposal,” he says quietly. 

“I cannot say that I am happy about it, but my feelings do not really matter. Our kingdoms have been trying to secure an alliance for practically a millennium. If a marriage on my behalf is all it takes, then so be it.”

“Your parents would not force you into an unwanted union. Surely. there are other ways.”

You furrow your brows. Why is Zoro fighting against this? He, of all people, should be supporting the alliance. It will only benefit the kingdom. 

“Of course they won’t.”

“So your agreeance was for naught. In utter vain. Why even accept in the first place?” Zoro grunts. 

“I cannot abandon my duty—cannot abandon the throne’s burden. As your loyalty lies with this country, mine does as well.” 

“My loyalty lies with you.”

Your expression softens at his words and Zoro has to look away; he does not think he can hide the intensity of his true feelings for much longer if he doesn’t. One look at his face and you would see the anger and pain it betrays. You don’t deserve that. His feelings, the extremely inappropriate ones for a man of his status, are his to suffer, alone—his to push away, his to hide. They will fade… eventually. 

“I… appreciate your concern. It will be fine. Sanji is a good man,” you reassure, patting him gently on the hand. His calloused fingers twitch underneath your manicured hands, itching to intertwine with your own. 

“This is what you want?” 

You sigh. “We are far past what I want.”

Zoro does not reply; he doesn’t get a chance to as a loud knock sounds. 

“[Name]?” A muffled voice calls out from the other side of the heavy oak doors. 

“That’s…”

You get up and move towards the door, opening it to reveal a familiar face. 

“Captain,” you smile. 

Luffy grins back at you, signature hat tucked beneath his arm. “Hey! I need to steal Zoro.”

His blunt nature doesn’t deter you in the slightest. In fact, you welcome his genuinity—such a trait is few and far between. 

Luffy is what one might call a rogue shipmaster. A naval Captain who balances precariously on the edge of the law. For the past few years, your parents have employed Luffy on multiple occasions, assigning him various missions and expeditions in return for coinage. He made quick use of the gold and coveted the adventure, while your kingdom benefited from his unorthodox methods—and personality. 

From time to time, Luffy would pop in and request Zoro to join him—request being a very, very loose term in this context. More often than not, Zoro would accept. He wouldn’t admit it, but you know the swordsman enjoys Luffy’s company. He may grumble and protest, putting up an unwilling facade, but he obliges every time with no exception. The only instance where Zoro would decline is if you asked him not to—or if you needed him. 

“Coming.”

Zoro brushes past you without a second glance and follows the Captain out the door. Luffy gives you another toothy grin, waving as he bounds away with your guard in tow. 

Little did you know, that would be the last you would see of Zoro for the next month. 

During periods of Luffy’s exploits, you would be assigned a temporary guard consisting of two paladins from Zoro’s unit. There was never anything wrong with them per se. They were dutiful, skilled, and well-trained—nothing short of knightly perfection—but they were not him. 

You miss Zoro. You miss his stoic sarcasm and his fits of laughter at your dumb jokes that are not all that humourous, but he laughs at them as if they were comedic genius. You miss his toothy smiles and sly smirks, and the way he tries not to meet your eyes in times of significance because one glance would have you both doubling over, choking on wheezing cackles at the most inopportune times. Most of all, you miss your best friend, and you worry for him. He is usually only absent for a few days up to a week at most, but it has been fourfold that time and Zoro is still not back.

One part of you wishes for him home as soon as possible, another dreads it. In the days that Zoro has been gone, the details of your engagement were finalized. The thought brings a pounding ache to your skull and a heavy lump in your throat that suffocates you with each nearing second. 

The nerves do not matter, you remind yourself. Nothing but the effect matters. Your kingdom will prosper. It will flourish. This is your duty, and it is your mind and wits that will guide you, so it does not matter how much your heart rejects it. No matter how much you wish it were Zoro. 

A small, irrational part of you hopes he stops it all for his own wants—selfish, you know, but that’s what love is, is it not? The larger, sensible part of you knows that he cannot do that… and he won’t. As teens, you confessed your young, unbridled feelings once, and he rejected you resolutely. Zoro made it abundantly clear he does not and will not ever see you as anything but a friend—or perhaps just an employer—so you refuse to make the depth of your affection known again. Not when all it will do is end in heartbreak and shame. 

You and Sanji are in the middle of planning floral arrangements before the greenhouse doors burst open and Luffy strolls in, arms full of sea lilies—gorgeous crystalline flowers found only in the deepest trenches of a certain Southern ocean. They are your favourite, and incredibly difficult—almost impossible—to find around your kingdom. Zoro follows lazily behind, careful not to step on the hundreds of random bouquets strewn about the room. 

“Welcome back, Luffy…uh-”

The captain drops the flowers onto the large workbench between you and Sanji. You wince as a few lovely petals get smushed.

“Idiot! Be careful with those!” Zoro scolds. 

Luffy frowns and scratches his head. “Sorry.”

“These flowers…” You brush a hand against a petal. It glimmers iridescent under your touch. 

“Zoro got them. Said they were important,’ Luffy says.

“What?” Your heart skips a beat. Maybe multiple. 

Zoro just shrugs. “You like them, right?”

“They’re perfect,” Sanji cuts in. You don’t miss the twitch of Zoro’s jaw. 

“I didn’t want the roses because the thorns would be a hassle, you didn’t love the tulips because of the silhouette and composition, but these…” The prince carefully picks up the bundles of ice-coloured flowers. “These are perfect for the ceremony! I’ll hand them off to the florist right away.”

Sanji scurries off with Luffy in tow, the latter muttering something about finding food, leaving only you and Zoro in the empty glass house. 

“Ceremony?” 

You swallow and plaster a smile on your face. “Welcome back. How was your trip?”

“Fine. What ceremony?” He inches closer. 

You turn around, fiddling aimlessly with a bluebell arrangement. “The wedding. It’s finalized—the date is set for twenty days time.”

A heavy silence blankets the room and your mouth runs dry. You don’t like this unease, it is unfamiliar and stifling—like a dizzying fog hanging over your eyes, blinding you as you stumble through new, obscure territory. Zoro has always been the most comforting presence in your life, but ever since last month… something is wrong.

“[Name], don’t do this.”

You turn to your knight, brows furrowed in confusion and surprise. 

For his part, Zoro looks just as shocked as you feel. He works his jaw slowly, conflicted. He certainly meant to keep that thought to himself. 

“I meant… this is not the wisest idea,” he tries explaining.

“Why?” 

“You are not happy with it, is that not enough reason?”

A small spark of hope flickers to life in you. “No, that is not enough reason.”

You think: One more reason, that is all I ask. Say it and all of this will be unwritten history, never to be put to paper. 

“It should be,” he argues, hand combing through his hair in agitation.

“You are meant to protect me. Not to stand in the way of my future.”

“I am if it is a future you don’t desire.”

You scoff. “And what do you know of my desires?”

“I know you don’t want to marry him.” 

“And if I told you that you’re wrong? What would you do then?”

Zoro looks you dead in the eyes as he answers. “If he is the man you choose to be with, not out of duty, but out of affection—then I would offer my sincerest congratulations.”

The hope in you dies and your stomach drops. “Of course you would. I don’t know what else I expected.”

He cocks his head, tension lines forming on his skin. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t be dense, Zoro.”

“I’m not following.”

“I have to find Sanji, he and I have some things to go over before tomorrow,” you mutter. You try to push past Zoro to leave, but he sidesteps and blocks you—his massive frame towering over you. 

“Since when were you so friendly with him?”

“Zoro, I am marrying the man! And I must help him plan the wedding. Now, move.” You press two fingers to his chest and push, to no avail, his body a solid wall between you and the exit. 

“You’re serious? You’ll go through with this ridiculous plan?”

“Political marriages are commonplace!” You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing your blood pressure down in the meantime. “You know what? Unless you are able to give me an actual reason—nothing to do with my feelings, because we both know this is not about me—then this wedding is happening, whether you like it or not.”

Zoro’s eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say?”

“Must I spell it out for you, Zoro? We are not children anymore. Suppressing your feelings will not do either of us any good.”

“My feelings?” He balks. 

“The ones you harbour towards me, yes. Why else would you act like this?” Uncertainty courses through you like ice-shot blood in your veins, but you don’t let it show. Wavering confidence will lose you this battle instantly. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea of what you are talking about.”

“Then why can’t you look me in the eyes?” Your voice turns quiet. “Don’t lie to me again. You promised never to do that.”

Zoro flinches, but recovers quickly. His usual mask of indifference slips into place. 

“I am a knight. A people’s hero at best. I have no doubt of my skills nor goals, but they do not align with yours. [Name], you are the future monarch of this kingdom. I have no place next to you as an equal, only as a sword and shield. I am sorry if you believed there was… anything more.”

His lack of emotion only adds to your own frustration. “You are projecting. You and I are both well aware that is not all there is. You are the greatest swordsman of this century—perhaps of all time. What happened to the man who would chase down ghosts and move mountains to obtain such a title? Don’t be absurd. This has nothing to do with rank. You are scared.”

His eyes flash. “You and I are set on separate paths. Both glorious in their own right, but led by different fates.”

“Are you such a coward that you would blindly follow in fate’s footsteps? I took you for a better man than that,” you argue, disappointment coating your words. 

“You are wrong, then. Maybe, you do not know me as well as you believe,” he snaps. The coldness in his tone is harsh and unbridled. It draws a clear, perpetual line between you. 

You say nothing in response. Instead, you shoulder past him and walk to the exit. He lets you. 

You move to leave, but pause as you step over the threshold. Softly, you murmur: “You’re right. Maybe I don’t.”

Without waiting for an answer, you slam the doors behind you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Your Highness, it is only the one signature–”

“A moment, please,” Sanji interrupts. 

The lawyer reddens and nods. “Of course, I apologize. Whenever you are able.” He takes an awkward bow and scurries out of the office. 

You barely notice, still staring at the packet of papers in front of you like it is a bomb that may explode any next moment. Twenty minutes ago, the official signing of your marriage papers began. Ten was spent having the contents and legal ramifications explained by the sixty-something man who just left, five was spent going over the actual details with Sanji, and the last five consisted of you fidgeting with your pen as you stared down the blank line awaiting your scribbled name. 

“I will do it. I can sign it.”

“I know. Take your time,” Sanji gently reassures. 

“I can,” you insist. 

“Of course.”

“You don’t sound like you believe that.”

“It’s not that…”

“Then, what, pray tell, is it?” You ask, throwing your hands up in irritation. 

Sanji only shrugs, unbothered by your lack of patience. “I am merely wondering if there is any reason why you are taking longer than anticipated. It could not possibly have anything to do with that mossy-headed bodyguard of yours, could it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I could not help but notice his absence these last three days, despite his habit of sticking next to you—glued to your side like a moth to a flame,” he notes. 

You shift, uncomfortable. “Commander Roronoa has been busy.”

The winter air brushes against you, causing you to shiver. Sanji notices and stands up, moving towards the open balcony. He shuts the twin doors on the whistling winds and you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Thank you.”

“Anything for my betrothed.”

“Is that what I am? Your betrothed?”

“Yes,” he pauses, scrunching his nose. “Well… you will be once you sign those documents.”

Your gaze drops from Sanji to the foreboding papers on the table. Every second that passes is another rope winding around your throat, suffocating you more and more. The reality of it all is setting in—and it’s sending you into a spiral. 

“I… I can’t.” You drop the pen and it clatters against the wooden tabletop. With a sigh, you cradle your face in your hands and suppress a groan. 

One beat. Two beats. Three beats pass. 

Then Sanji speaks… and it makes your heart race. “You have feelings for him.”

You glance at the blonde with a sad smile. “Horrible, wretched ones.”

“Your feelings are not horrible, [name]. Nor are they wretched.”

“Oh, but they are. How else could I possibly describe them? They are far from wonderful—far from the magic poets write of and romantics live for.” You let out a sharp breath. “They cause me to ache for something I will never have. Is that anything less than horrible to you?”

“Do you wish you never loved him? Never met him?”

“I–” You pause, the lie clotting your throat and refusing to roll off your tongue. You slump back into the sofa and close your eyes in defeat. “No. Of course not. I only wished he loved me back.”

“[Name].”

You peer at Sanji, and he looks at you gently. You have never seen the playboy prince wear such a sincere expression.

“He loved you enough to let you go. He loved you enough to prioritise your happiness over his own. Would you not do the same for him?”

“I would not know hesitation. But Zoro does not even care enough to fight for me. What of that do you perceive to be love?”

“A man who takes time out of his endless day to dive into the treacherous depths of the sea, scouring the ocean floor for flowers, is a man in love. When he brought you those bouquets, did you not notice something different about them?”

“About the flowers? No. No, I don’t think so. There was…” You trail off. A switch goes off in your brain as everything clicks into place. “Oh.”

“The thorns.”

“The thorns,” you whisper. 

Sea lilies are beautiful, yes, but they are also a plant species that produces a mechanical defense against predators in the form of small silver thorns. 

“We had dismissed roses as an option for floral arrangements due to their prickly nature, as it would have taken too long to strip them of their thorns. The lilies were smooth—completely void of them. It must have taken him the entire night just to finish one batch.

“The time and effort he has dedicated… [name], this man loves you fiercely. More than most would think possible.” Sanji pulls back and settles into the cream-colored cushions. He gives you a teasing smile. “I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be.” You sit up and promptly scribble your name across the certificate. You drop the pen on the table and it clatters against the hard surface, the noise echoing in the room’s silence. “In seventeen days time, it will be you and I, for the rest of our lives.” The words are choking you. Your eyes sting and your throat burns as you force them out, but that final pen stroke sobered you to reality and you felt your mind clear. 

“[Name]—”

You raise a palm up. “At the end of the day, Zoro made his choice, and it is one that does not involve me. Even if his feelings for me are true… he refuses to let them come to light. He can’t even tell me the truth,” you sigh. The acceptance slowly creeps in, along with your resolution. “I will not settle for the bones of a dying love. I will either have him whole or not at all.” 

The conversation ends there. Two uneventful but busy weeks pass by and times are as peaceful as possible… until the moment you find out some startling news. It happens an hour before the ceremony, mere minutes after you get dressed in your wedding attire. 

“Are you sure?”

The maid nods timidly. “Yes, Your Highness. I overheard the commander speaking of the upcoming ceremony when I was cleaning out the barracks. He was adamant on not attending.”

“I see,” you reply flatly, stomach churning in growing anxiety. You thank the girl and dismiss her before heading towards your next destination. 

Zoro, to his credit, does not react—not a jump or flinch—when you burst through the doors. He is halfway through polishing a sword when you interrupt, a flurry of silk, scented oil, and irritation barreling through his room. 

“You won’t be there?”

He doesn’t look up. “No.”

“Zoro.” Your biting tone halts him. “You’re not coming to my wedding?”

“I…”  He finally looks at you and pauses, fully taking you in. His eyes shine with a hint of appreciation—and something more—before he coughs and turns, attention directed back to his swords. “No. I am not.”

But I need you there. I can’t go through with this without your support, you think. But all you can choke out is an angry: “Why?”

“I am of no use there, and the troops need my help in preparing for an upcoming campaign.”

“That can wait.” 

“I’m sorry, [name],” he mutters. 

“You are not! If you were truly sorry, you would wait a damned day and attend my wedding!” You step closer to him, mere inches away. 

“I apologize, but it is unchanging.”

“Stop apologizing and look at me!” You grasp his face with your hands and gently but firmly tilt his head towards your gaze. The expression he wears makes you pause. Zoro looks like he is falling apart—misery and anger twisting his handsome features. 

“Are you done? I have training to go to.”

“Stop running from me, Zoro. Where’s the brave, strong swordsman I grew up with?”

Zoro doesn’t mention that he can’t help but be weak around you. He also doesn’t mention how each passing second here, with you, feels like a dagger to the heart. All he can muster out is a low: “Let me go, [name].”

You shake your head. “And if I don’t? What will you do then?”

Zoro reaches up and pulls your hands away, but he lets go quickly, as if it burns. “Please, [name]. I am not in the mood to humour you nor cater to your whims.”

You ignore how much his dismissal hurts, but you refuse to back down. Not until he tells the truth. The whole truth. 

“This has nothing to do with my whims. This has to do with the fact that you are too scared to confront your own constitution. Spare me, Zoro. Your absence is not because of your duties, so tell me what it is actually about.”

He opens his mouth to retort, no doubt to argue and stand his false, crumbling ground. So you raise a hand to silence him. 

“I command you. Tell me: why won’t you come?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Precisely. I can’t go to your wedding because I can’t watch you exchange vows with someone else. I can’t stand there, pretending to be happy for you when I am not—far from it, actually.” He takes a step forward, sharp gaze tracing your features. “Most of all, I can’t go, because if I do, I will lose all reason—much like this moment—and I will find a way to stop that union. No matter how much blood I will need to spill.”

“Zoro–”

“It will not happen. I promise. Go. Get married, [name]. Your future awaits you, and it will surely be a bright one.”

“I don’t want a future that does not involve you.”

“My rank–”

“For god's sake, Zoro, you know I have no care for rank.”

“Rank is not all that separates us! It is everything. Everything I am, it… it is not enough. How can it be?” He rasps. 

Your chest tightens. “Of course, it’s enough. You are more than enough.”

“No, [name]. We are-”

You interrupt him. “Do you have feelings for me? Yes or no?” 

“That does not matter-”

“You are being weak, Zoro. Say it.”

“You don’t understand,” he grits out, jaw rigid with tension.

“Say it!”

“Yes! Yes, I have feelings for you. I have had feelings for you since we were children—from the moment I swore myself to you with a wooden sword!”

Your heart soars. “Then why are you fighting this? Fighting me?” 

“Because. It. Does. Not. Matter. They will fade.” 

Mid-flight, your heart plummets to the pit of your aching stomach.

“You don't mean that,” you whisper. 

“I do,” he swallows, voice shaky with emotion. “Besides, you deserve to be with someone who can make you happy. I cannot be that person. I refuse to.”

“You refuse me.”

A stray tear rolls down the plane of your cheek and Zoro notices. He instinctively reaches out to comfort you. You take a step back, hurt striking you sharp and deep. His arm drops and he averts your gaze, regret and defeat swirling in his own. 

The walls around your heart rise once more, buried behind seemingly impenetrable steel. 

Zoro whispers your name—soft and tender—and your defenses almost crumble. Almost. But you will not fall again—in any way. 

“I am your ruler, Commander. You will address me as such.”

He makes a face, taken aback, but quickly schools his features. His next words are cold. Formal. Setting the new boundaries of your wilted relationship—if you can even call it that anymore. “My sincerest apologies…Your Highness.”

Someone knocks on the door. A second later, your mother’s voice rings out. “[Name], honey. Are you in there? The ceremony will soon commence.” 

“Yes, mother, I will be out in a moment. I promise not to keep the guests waiting.” You answer. 

She makes a noise of affirmation before bidding you farewell. You wait for her footsteps to recede before turning to Zoro. The usual affection he harbours for you has been completely erased from his features. You stand before him, a complete stranger. So that is how you choose to speak with him. 

“I will not force you to attend. You will hardly be missed at such an ornate affair. I’m sure you have many, much more important, matters to attend to. You are dismissed, Commander.”

PART TWO COMING SOON. 

˚ · . tags: @oonlykooii @3v37773 @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007 @bababahannah

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would u guys kill me if i posted the zoro fic in two parts instead of one…

im done the first half already🤥🤥

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hi guys !! im turning 20 today (god help me) and just wanted to thank all of u for being so supportive and sweet <33 i hope you all have a great weekend mwah mwah

ps. the zoro fic is coming soon i promise

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hey guys please send me some of ur favourite tropes so i can incorporate them into fics !! u can send them anon or otherwise <3

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the more i continue writing this zoro fic, the more i hurt my own feelings…

maybe someday ill forget abt angst but todays not that day !!

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i have an upcoming zoro fic (fantasy au), if anyone wants to be added to tag list please message me !!