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fuumoksun · 1 month

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Netflix please make this canon.

𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄?

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the grace of the sword and the stage come together as the strawhats' swordsman and dancer fall in love.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x fem!dancer!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, reader is a ballerina, mention of alcohol, abusive employer near the beginning, not beta read

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: la seine

the first time he saw you, he was in denial at the fact that he was, once again, lost.

it wasn't his fault! nami ditched him in favor of viewing the rows and rows of stalls featuring all sorts of glittering jewels, and before he knew it, zoro was at a loss on where he was.

choosing to wander till he found something familiar to guide him back to the ship, he was drawn to the sweet sound of laughter, clinking glass, and soft music.

without looking up to read the sign hanging over the boisterously decorated building taking up most of the left side of the street. it was probably just a bar anyway.

so he slipped inside, meaning to find a place at a counter to order a drink, when he found himself running into a podium and faced with a woman in a suit, her expression sultry as she said, "here for the last show?"

Zoro blinked down at her, lips parting. He wasn't about to let her make him look stupid, so he settled her with a stern glower and nodded.

"You're just in luck," she purred. "We've got one last seat, and you're just in time to see our principal lady."

"Right," he nodded once more and, after casting a look at the enticing exit, turned back to the hostess. "You've got booze?"

Her smile glimmered. "Just ask and ye shall receive. We have an assortment of liquors here at Le Palais de Cerise!"

Zoro followed her down a dim hallway into an even dimmer grand room. It looked something like an opera hall, with tiered rows of half-moon booths each facing a large stage.

Blue lighting shined from lanterns hung on the ceiling, casting the place in an eerie yet mystifying glow. All around the booths and tables were occupied by guests dressed much finer than Zoro, sipping on glasses of fine wine and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres.

The hostess brandished an arm as she showed him to a smaller booth at the very edge of the third tier away from the stage, closer to the center aisle running between two halves of the room. It was a pretty good view, nearly right in the middle of the stage.

"Thanks," he muttered distractedly, slipping into the booth and slouching instantly. "Get me a bottle of sake, yeah?"

The woman grinned widely before turning her back, her smile falling into a sneer. Now alone, Zoro got comfortable on the cushion of the seat, deciding this place wasn't too bad of a napping spot, when the lights brightening the stage faded to black.

Violins and flutes started to sing from a pit around the edge of the stage, coming alive as all conversation died out. Zoro stiffened, shifting to sit up right as his hands fell to his swords at his side.

"I hear it's her last show," sighed a young man to his friend at the neighboring booth. "We're insanely lucky."

Zoro's eyes adjusted to the dark just as a spotlight shone down on the parting ruby curtain, and out came a dozen girls dressed as the petals of a flower, twirling on the very tips of their toes. Instantly, Zoro was fascinated.

How they hopped around and danced like that without breaking something, he hadn't a clue. Zoro was on the edge of his seat before he really realized it, and barely made a sound of acknowledgement when a bottle of sake was placed beside him.

He came back to reality long enough to take a long drink, yet when his gaze returned to the stage, the music tingled to a suspenseful, drawn out theme. The flower petals stood in two diagonals forming a V and arced their arms around to present whatever was approaching.

From the left of the stage rushed a woman donned in a dress of dark red, the skirt branching out at her waist and barely dipping with each of her movements. Her bodice was lined with black and gold lace leading up to a sweetheart neckline. Not a hair on her head was out of place. Her every movement had a purpose.

The ballerina was perfection on earth. Zoro nearly wanted to remove his gaze from her, lest he taint this apparent angel.

She nearly floated with how she glided her feet, coming to a graceful halt at center stage, at the peak of the petals' V, and presented her arms as if to say here I am!

All around the audience applauded her for her presence alone, and Zoro found himself lazily meeting his palms together as well.

The music swelled as she extended her arms to cross and pointed out a toe, hopping forward as her arms gradually lifted over her head, before she leapt into an arabesque and pattered across the stage.

Behind her, the V of petals crossed the stage to the opposite side they were on, halting in unison on a tall and extended pique.

The main ballerina continued to glide this way and that, commanding the entire room, no fault in her every twirl, leap, and scurry.

Throughout the entire performance, Zoro watched dutifully, his attention never once departing from you.

And upon the stage, with the blinding lights casting the audience in a gray shadow, you swore you felt something tangibly heavy in the way they looked at you now, though you couldn't place a finger on why.

You only knew that when the music climaxed and faltered, and the curtain lowered on you and your friends, that as the lights grew dim, you caught sight of someone leaving the theater, a set of swords glinting at their side.

It was no surprise when flowers upon flowers arrived at your little room near the back of the theater.

You were known across the city and ones around it for your grace. People came from every which way to watch you dance the same dances, on the same stage, with the same people night after night after night.

You were bored, to say the least.

For ages, you ached for the thrill dance had once brought you. To not know every move by heart, to have something to learn rather than perform out of mere memory.

You missed what it was like to make mistakes, because they made success all the more sweet.

It was why that night was your last performance at Le Palais de Cerise. The next day, you would set sail with a family of merchants you'd met the week prior, and visit lands you'd only ever dreamed of.

Hopefully, some day, you'd find the thrill once again.

But there was Madame Cerise to think of, the owner of the theater hall, and she was not so ready to let her prized ballerina slip away.

"It would be a shame," she said to her brutish son, "if our dear angel was robbed of all her money. How would she pay for escape then?"

Zoro wasn't nearly as drunk as he'd like to be, but he didn't really need the alcohol anymore. Not when all he could think of was how the hell those dancers didn't break their toes.

Looking left and right, ensuring no one was out on the streets with him, he attempted to balance himself on the very tip of his boots, immediately teetering forward and nearly twisting his ankle.

He spit out a curse, pushing back his shoulders only to slump forward again and trudge down the street. The streetlamps flickered here and there, the night breeze chilling his bare arms.

"Stop! Stop, please!"

Zoro whipped around, eyes peeled, and zeroed in on the alleyway ahead to his right. The pleading voice echoed as three burly shadows tripped and stumbled out onto the street, sprinting away.

He was halfway into a pursuit when he caught the tell-tale sound of crying. Faltering to a stop just outside the mouth of the alley, he made out the silhouette of someone in a crumbled heap on the ground.

You glanced up from cradling your skinned and burning palms to your chest, hiccuping. Finding yet another shadow lurking there, you bit back, "I've got nothing left! Run back to Cerise, you--you mutt!"

Well, that didn't exactly make him want to help you, but then, in the dim lamplight, he saw through your tear stained face and found the ballerina who'd enchanted him an hour before.

He didn't know what to do, feeling odd with an unsheathed sword in hand as you glared at him, awaiting his next move. Zoro cleared his throat. "You... danced nice."

You eyes flickered all over him before you broke into yet another round of sobs, somehow managing through it, "Yeah, and I'll be dancing nicely till I'm old and wrinkly and dead. Ugh!"

Clawing at your arms, mumbling more to yourself, "I'm such a fool... Why did I think she'd let me go..."

You were too caught up in picturing the rest of your mundane life to realize Zoro was approaching you, only jerking away from him when he knelt in front of you.

His sword was back in its scabbard, and despite the scar over his eye, the other one was nearly soft. But there was nothing soft in the way he asked you, "Who won't let you go?"

A long story short, le palais de cerise went up in flames a few days after, and you found yourself sailing away not only with the promise of adventure, but with the promise of friendship.

and the hint of something more, judging from how zoro acted around you.

It was comical, really. Once, the swordsman had been a wall of stoicism, never to be toppled. And now this woman with all the grace and poise of a swan comes in, and he’s toppled like a feather in the wind.

Not that the others would complain; he wasn’t so grouchy when you were near, the tautness in his brows softening at the very sound of your voice.

Nami and Robin often teased you about Zoro's little crush, and you never paid them any mind—you’d think twice before admitting to having a soft spot for your crewmate.

Still, it was obvious something was there.

He always tended to be near you whenever he wasn’t training or asleep. Whether you were sitting around reading, or listening to music on a gramophone Nami may or may not have stolen for you, Zoro was likely to be there, laying at your side, content with the company.

You never failed to save him a seat at breakfast, waiting even when the others got up to start working, knowing Zoro would walk in later than the rest all grumpy and tired.

Zoro stood at your side like some kind of guard dog, especially when outside the safety of the ship.

It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t look after yourself! It’s just, well, you can’t exactly fight.

“So teach me,” you snapped back, not appreciating being treated like glass.

Zoro sputtered, unsure if you’re serious, and promptly sets down his fork in favor of matching your stare from across the table.

Before he could say anything, Robin stood to put up her plate and said, “That’s a good idea. Everyone should be able to defend themself.”

You could have kissed her, grinning as she winked and wandered off.

“You don’t need to,” Zoro blurted.

Nami smirked as she took a sip of her water. “Why’s that?”

His reply was instant. “I’ll protect you.”

Your cheeks warmed. “That’s sweet, but you won’t always be there.”

He glared at the prospect, as if to say watch me.

“If Marimo refuses, I would love to teach you, darling—”

“Shut up!” Zoro faced you, narrowing his eyes at the little smile you gave him. “We start tomorrow.”

Snickering, you lurched forth and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, jumping to your feet before he could even register what had happened. “Thanks, Zo!”

Whilst you made a hasty exit and Sanji started to yell at Zoro, Nami couldn’t help her excited gape as she locked eyes with Robin. The dark haired woman grinned cheekily, watching Zoro stare blankly into space.

“She’s got him wrapped around her finger.”

Zoro did not go easy on you, and you didn’t exactly mind too much.

You wanted to get better. That was the only reason you were out here, in the blazing sun, watching Zoro’s chest as it heaved underneath his thin shirt.

Okay, maybe not the only reason. But the main one was definitely learning to protect yourself!

You learned quickly, sometimes even beating Zoro out on the deck in the morning, purely excited at the chance to train with him.

He had wandered into the girls room to get you, only to be confused when all he found was Nami yelling at him to get out.

And when he saw you practicing your form with the sword he’d bought with you on that last island.

Zoro knew you were graceful. He’d seen it the first time he ever saw you. Grace was a word so wrapped up in his view of you.

But fuck—you were anyting but graceful with a sword.

Each of your movements were stiff and rigid and sharp. How hadn’t he noticed it before?

So he came up and, without really thinking, reached around to grab your wrist, taking your elbow in his other hand, caging you between his arms.

You’re not quite sure how you didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

Only after your eyes met did Zoro realize the predicament he’d gotten himself into—and promptly sprang away from you, complimenting how fast you caught on and beelining back into the ship.

You weren’t sure you could take much more of that. Not before you acted on one of your many urges to kiss him senseless.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait much longer.

So long of the crew’s teasing, slight grazes of the hand, and longing stares all led up to one night aboard the ship, lost in the music and sea breeze.

Zoro had been trying to take another sip of his drink for a while now, but each time he brought his glass to his lips, his eyes were dragged back to you, and Zoro’s breath hitched as he lowered his hand once more.

You were effervescent, your smile never wavering as you twirled and stomped around to the beat of the melody strumming from Brook’s guitar. You had caught Usopp in a waltz now, dragging him with you as he stumbled to keep up. A laugh bubbled up and out of you, and Zoro’s chest seized.

Nami rolled her eyes, growing tired of watching Zoro be so hopelessly infatuated. “Would you give it up? Do us all a favor and just tell her already.”

The swordsman barely cast her a glance, finally managing to get some sake down his throat to sooth the anxiety welling in his chest. “No clue what you’re on about.”

“You’re impossible,” she scoffed, standing while setting a hand on his shoulder. “And just plain sad.” Nami had skipped off to take your hand before Zoro could snap back at her, and he watched from his seat as Nami spun you around, dragging another chuckle out of you.

Sighing, Zoro lowered his gaze and settled on remaining seated the whole night, allowing you to have your fun without dampening it with his useless conversations.

A figure plopped into Nami’s abandoned seat, and he was prepared for another tease, when your voice loftily inquired, “Zoro, you’ve been sad all night.”

Instantly, his head lifted to look at you and your slight smile. Your chest heaved up and down, still exhausted from dancing circles around the deck. He set his glass down, shifting his knees to face yours. “I’m fine. You tired?”

Your huffed sigh was answer enough, pulling a scant grin out of him. Your face lit up at the sight, and your eyes took a slightly warmer tone. “I know your answer already, but do you wanna dance?”

He nearly said what you expected—no—before it sank in that you had expected it. For him to deny you of something you wanted. Zoro’s eyes flickered all over your pretty face, his heart beating fast, and he nodded, much to your surprise.

“Really?” You tried to hold back your smile. “I mean, you don’t have to—”

“I do.”

You nearly squealed right then and there, settling for beaming at him whilst you scooped up his hand and pulled him to his feet. Your smile was coy and his was stifled, but everyone could see it. You took both his hands in yours and leaned back, spinning the both of you around.

From somewhere nearby, Sanji was scoffing and Usopp was whistling, but Zoro hardly even heard the music anymore. All he was conscious of was you and your snickers, of how your touch ignited his skin, of his stumbling feet, of how you drew him closer with a slight tug on his hand and wrung your arms around his neck.

Brook, as if on cue, began to strum a softer song, something akin to a slow dance. It drew a grin on your face, your eyes fluttering closed. Zoro’s heart jumped and his right foot crushed yours. He apologized swiftly as you winced, somehow still giggling at him. Angel, he thought.

Zoro couldn’t breathe. Not when you looked at him like that. His hands froze at his sides before they inched closer to you, hovering over your sides. Your eyes were shut, and he admired you unabashedly, leaning forward till his nose brushed your own, jerking you from your reverie to find him a breath away.

His eyes widened after locking with yours, sputtering another apology as he attempted to remove himself from your vicinity, cursing himself. Your hands intertwined around his neck, holding him in place as all sense of caution fled your body. One last look into your eyes had Zoro lurching forward, catching your lips and relishing in the feeling of your thumb grazing his cheek.

How an angel like you could hold a demon like him so lovingly, he wasn't sure. Zoro vowed to spend his life trying to find out, remaining at your side dutifully till the end of his days. You certainly had no objections, doing your best every day to convince him he indeed deserved your love.

The others never let you hear the end of it. Every “about time” made you that much closer to smacking someone upside the head.

After your feelings were revealed, not much changed. The dynamic was still there, with the added physical intimacy when far from the prying eyes of the others, of course.

Zoro liked to lay his head on your legs while you read, and he’d never say it out loud, but he loved it when you carded your hands lazily through his hair. He didn't exactly need to tell you though; his contented sighs and following snores were enough.

He’s still not much of a dancer, and you respect when he’s just too tired to entertain your twirling and whirling. But sometimes, on days where he’s been up so long he starts to feel energized, he’ll take your hand and drag you onto the floor of whatever bar he’d brought you to.

He's terrible, finding no rhythm no matter how hard he tries, and he settles for simply swaying along with you.

(You're in no place to tease him for it; you're just as out of place with a sword in hand).

Funny how you both held such grace in your separate fields of passion, yet lost it all the moment you try the other's craft.

Zoro still short-circuited every time your lips brushed his cheek, even if it became a habit of yours whenever leaving his side.

Princess. Treatment (Or as much as he can give).

He’ll bully you if you start complaining that your feet hurt, but he’ll let you cling to his back like a koala all the way back to ship while doing it.

Whilst walking around whatever city the crew was stopped at, he’ll have one arm around you at all times, really only letting you go when you weasel out of his arms to go listen to the little band playing music on the street corner.

(He stands guard at the front of the crowd, eyes peeled whilst you distract the watchers long enough for Nami to pickpocket each and every one of them. And when he’s inevitably so caught up in watching you, someone notices Nami slinking off with their wallet. The three of you race through the street and around a corner, laughing till your sides ache).

Zoro will help you destroy all your dead pointe shoes from your days on Cerise’s stage, having no need for them on the sea, slamming the shoes by the ribbons against the deck of the ship till Usopp yells at you for leaving scratches on the deck.

He has a little too much fun with it, and you’re no different, feeling free of all bitterness and anger with each shoe that you snap in two. The others are only slightly concerned about the violence of it all, leaving the pair of you alone when you and Zoro melt into laughter like children.

You try to teach him to waltz one day, because he was hopeless on the dance floor with two left feet. When he tried to escape it, you simply replied, “I want to dance with you… and keep my toes too.” “Hey!”

An hour must have passed, and Zoro still couldn’t process exactly what he was supposed to do, when he was supposed to. He narrowly missed your toe again by stepping forward when he was meant to step back.

Zoro grunted, dropping his arms from your waist and putting a wide berth between you. “Forget it.”

Grinning softly, you took his chin between your thumb and finger, catching his frustrated gaze that melted once it met with yours. “It’s fine. You’ll get it eventually.”

He scoffed as if to say yeah right, and you took that personally. Raising a brow, you lowered your gaze to your feet, then to Zoro’s, before a grin tugged at your lips. “I know! Here.”

You hooked your arms around his neck, getting up close and personal as you gently stepped onto his shoes. Zoro tried to remain stoic, but it all fell through when you brushed your nose against his and dragged a little chuckle out of him.

“What’re you doing?” he asked fondly.

“Dancing,” you laughed. “This way, you can’t step on my feet.”

“But now you’re stepping on mine.”

“Hush. Just—spin around. I dunno.”

His hands settled on your hips, his eyes rolling to the side despite the light blush on his cheeks giving him away. Zoro grinned slyly and wrapped his arms around you, tottering from one foot to the next in a swift whirl. You squealed his name into his neck as he lifted you up, spinning the both of you around and around till you could barely breathe, you were laughing so hard.

Your feet touched the floor as Zoro’s sight got too dizzy, his deep laughter rumbling in his chest as he leaned into you for balance. You gripped his shoulders so he wouldn’t take you down with him, running your hand up the back of his neck to card through his hair.

He pulled back, smiling dazedly, and you shook your head at him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Eh,” he said, ducking to hover his lips over yours. “I think I’m getting good at this dancin’ thing.”

Your scoff was muffled against his kiss, deep and slow. He grinned against your mouth, taking the first step forward to lead you back to his bed. The door to the boy‘s cabin swung open, instantly followed by a sharp scoff.

You broke away from Zoro to find Sanji standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed at Zoro’s back. “Whore,” he spat, his eyes softening on you. “Not you, my dear.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” you said with a roll of your eyes, watching as Zoro’s good mood flew out the window as he glared daggers into the cook. “Welp, dance class is over.”

They were arguing before you ever left the room, their tones escalating surprisingly fast. “Bye, boys!”

There was a lull in the shouting before the sound of Zoro lumbering down the hall (did he just run into the doorframe?) echoed after you. “Hey, angel, wait!”

You turned, giggling as your graceless boyfriend stumbled to a stop before you, one arm resting on the wall beside you to steady himself. He too started to smile after catching the soft one on your lips, his other arms reaching to pull you close by your hip.

"I'll practice," he promised softly, his nose gently brushing your own.

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. I'll sweep you off your feet once and for all then."

He kissed you then, softly and full of intention, so you didn't bother to say Oh, but you already have.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s

#zoro #roronoa zoro #x reader

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fuumoksun · 1 month

Text

"To the dephts of your heart"

♡ content / warning : jealousy

♡ part of my "To the dephts of your heart" [fanfiction drafts]

♡ Interactive fanfiction : poll at the end

As a representative from the Akademya working on negotiations between the nations of Fontaine and Sumeru, flirting with the Duke of the Meropide Forteress had been a thrilling distraction. The playful banter provided a much-needed break from the weight of your shared duties until a certain Scribe confessed his feelings for you...

"I understand if you need some space to think things through. Even though I tend to be persistent, I'll always respect your decision, no matter what it is."

Al Haitham's words left you in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Surprise mingled with disbelief as you processed the unexpected turn of events. After years of working around him you knew how cautious he was and he certainly didn't take the maters of love lightly.

Al Haitham had earned your utmost respect, particularly after the Sumeru crisis. The Scribe had left a lasting impact on you, and considering he had visited your dreams more than once, you couldn't deny that you cared about him.

On the other hand, within a few months, Wriothesley had managed to burrow deep into your thoughts, his presence becoming a constant, compelling force within your mind.

"Is this love... or?" You didn't knew what word to put on it anymore.

[...]

Love triangles are just a bunch of book fantasies... Or so you tried to convince yourself as you found yourself seated at a fancy terrace in Fontaine. On your left sat AlHaitham, while Wriothesley occupied the spot on your right.

The arrival of the waiter, bearing your coffee, offered a brief respite from the discomfort. Grateful for the interruption, you thanked him quietly.

The tension in the air was palpable. As the awkward silence stretched on, you couldn't help but mutter to yourself,

"No way... This can't be happening."

"Sugar, honney?" The Duke's voice was almost a whisper, catching you off guard.

"W-what?" You blinked, unsure of what he was getting at, your eyes catching a flicker of a frown on Al Haitham's face.

"Do you..."the Duke asked again, "... prefer sugar or honey in your coffee today?" he punctuated his question with a charming smile, leaning towards you to open the porcelain sugar holder.

Realization dawned, and you flushed with embarrassment, desperately wishing for the traveler to come back so you'd be out of this torture.

"Oh, uh... yeah. S-sugar is fine," you mumbled, turning your face away, as his knee brushed yours under the table. Usually you wouldn't mind his playful gestures and you couldn't blame him for acting like he always had around you, since he didn't know about last night's confession.

Al Haitham glanced up from his book, his gaze cool and collected. "I'm afraid, I have nothing interesting to share right now."

A moment passed before, Al Haitham pulled a book from his pocket, making it abundantly clear that he had no intention of engaging in conversation with either of you.

Wriothesley's eyes shifted back and forth between you and the tall man behind the book, a silent challenge brewing in the air.

He couldn't resist the opportunity to provoke a reaction just to make sure his intuition was right. "Ah, retreating into literature again ? I was looking forward to have some time with you... both."

A smirk tugged at Wriothesley's lips as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Really? Then tell me more about yourself... I must admit, I'm quite curious since Y/n speaks so highly of you... "

Al Haitham turned a page not sparring his rival a glance, "Well that will give you something to investigate about during your free time." His eyes locked into mine for a second, "It seems you have plenty after all."

"Nevermind then. Digging into peoples lives for personnal interrest is not really my thing..."

If you had any doubts about how much Al Haitham knew about your flirtations with the Duke, they vanished in that moment. It was clear he confessed even thought he knew you spent the last nights at the Forteress.

Accross the table, Wriothesley had the answer he wanted. He sipped his tea, with a bitter sweet satisfaction, retreating into his own thoughts.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, a feeling of guilt bubbling in your stomach.

[...]

"Al Haitham! Wriothesley! Y/n! We're back!" Paimon's voice reverberated, dispelling your cloud of negative thoughts.

Without another word exchanged the three of you parted ways returning to your duties for the rest of the day.

It was now, you against your thoughts and what seemed to be an impossible decision...

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