romancedawn | 𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 🦚 𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝙿𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔

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He is avoiding her.

And she should be relieved. Without having to own all the things they said, and those massive feelings invoked while they were lost to the arrow's effects in their nest, Nami could shrink away from that beautiful afternoon and chalk up the light in her heart he’s switched on to the House being the House, making off like a thief in the night, the iron grip she holds on her feelings, and the rest her defenses mostly intact.

There are a few days without him that she does exactly that, sort of. Because there's no easy way to be without him, now that she's been with him. Sanji's presence is wonderful, like always, and she adores him just as ardently, but something feels wrong, like Zoro’s a high window in her house left open and forgotten on an especially cold night. Without him with her, nothing can feel right, nothing can feel settled. The real pain is, when she tries to think of what she would say, or do to fix whatever went wrong, that schemer’s brain of hers falls woefully short.

She hates winging it, but by the third day, Zoro leaves Nami no choice.

There is nothing to be gained by taking the trip downstairs, and that Nami still doesn’t know what she’s planning to do ought to be enough to stop her and send her back to her suite, but it’s not. Without him, a part of her stays askew, a tilted picture frame on the wall. When she knocks, and he doesn’t answer, the knot that’s been sitting in her stomach since she realized he was evading her tightens to an uncomfortable degree, her lips pursed and sour while she glares down at her watch and considers.

But she doesn’t message. That would be stupid – not that she notices she’s being an idiot for lingering by Zoro’s door and saying nothing, first pacing angrily, then leaning back against it until she sinks into a sit, glaring miserably at her knees while the ache in her chest continues to relentlessly gnaw away at her.

The idea of getting up and leaving him alone lingers on the edges of her thoughts, right along with the realization that if she did, she’d be a coward in all the worst ways. She’ll duck out of a fight if she can, but she can’t fail someone she feels as much for as she does Zoro.

Somewhere in the brooding, longing, and kicking herself, Nami nods off, only to wake to the sound of the lock in the door behind her head clicking open. She stirs and reaches out to touch his calf, not lifting her eyes as she blinks them open, the grimace she nodded off wearing, still firmly in place.

Edited 2025-04-06 04:17 (UTC)

Some days, Zoro forgets he's a prisoner. The Golden Peacock offers pleasure in most of its conceivable forms, and with Nami here, his initial vow to rage against the machine sometimes dips down the priority list. How can it not, when enjoying her company (and missing her when she's not beside him) takes up so much of his time?

Today, he remembers. Each step on another restless walk around this luxurious prison grates on his nerves. For days he's been trying to excise the tempest brewing inside him, but it clings to his spirit, unaffected by any amount of exercise, or by the hours he'd spent under the resort's artificial waterfalls.

He has the nagging, irrational feeling that if only he could cut something, he'd feel better. But without his swords—two shattered, and one stolen away with all his worldly possessions—that isn't an option. His blades were more than weapons; they were extensions of his will, his focus. Now, with only his bare hands and the storm of his thoughts, this place feels even more like a gilded cage designed to fray his sanity.

Nami. Her face flashes through his mind in a montage of memories—fixing him with an impatient glare, smiling openly under the true sun, contorted in pleasure as he shows her all the things he feels that he doesn't quite have the words for. He reaches for the hilt of his sword, fingers flexing over nothing, and huffs another sigh of frustration.

Frustration. That's what he feels. At least on the surface, because what lies beneath is so much more difficult to unpack.

Beneath the frustration is what he truly feels.

With Nami, it began as a grudging respect, an unexpected and sometimes infuriating camaraderie as they slowly grew to trust each other. They followed their captain from one precarious situation into another; he depended on her cleverness, and she depended on his strength. Not a crew, they'd declared in sync, and perhaps they'd railed against the idea so hard that destiny saw it fit not to let them escape.

Now the crew is their found family, and that was so precious to Zoro that he was never going to act on his attraction for the navigator.

But then they found themselves here, where the rules are different, where fantasies are allowed and encouraged to leave the private depths of one's mind to instead bask openly in the light of day. So they'd given in, and after that, he'd lost all control.

The respect and trust he held for her deepened, twisted into something fierce, consuming, and utterly new. He's never felt this for anyone, this bewildering mix of tenderness and the terrifying urge to claim.

With it, the acid burn of jealousy feels like a dark tide threatening to pull him under. He saw it, felt it—that undeniable connection between them in their nest, a spark that promised a future he'd foolishly allowed himself to hope for. But the bitter truth, the one that has him pacing these damn halls like a caged beast, is the crushing weight of knowing he's not the only one who holds a place in her heart. The thought is a constant irritant, a shard of glass working its way deeper and deeper under his skin. He worries it'll go so deep he'll never be able to get it out.

He imagines her smiles, her easy laughter, the expressive warmth in her eyes directed elsewhere, and the jealousy is a visceral, choking thing. He's no good to be around like this, a snarling mess of emotions he can barely contain. So he avoids her, puts distance between them, waiting for this inferno to become manageable enough that he can act like a semblance of a normal person around her again.

He never meant to stay away forever; the thought of truly being without her is a deeper, colder ache than even this current torment. But for someone who feels things as intensely as he does, for someone only now discovering his heart could be this open, this vulnerable to loving another, these feelings don't just pass. They cling, they fester, they demand to be wrestled with. This place is a special kind of hell for a man like him, trying to learn how to breathe with a heart suddenly, painfully exposed.

Zoro finally reaches the door to his suite, and it takes him an extra second to realize what he's seeing.

Nami. Curled up on the floor, looking impossibly small and defeated. She doesn't look like the vibrant, sharp-tongued woman who makes insults sound like honey, nor is she the calm, contented woman he sometimes wakes up beside, her features softened by sleep, desire, and affection.

Instead she looks tired, and sad, and he immediately knows it's his doing. The sight punches the air from his lungs, and a dull ache blooms in his chest, sharp and sudden.

He unlocks his door and knows she must have awakened from the hand on his calf. His movements are careful as he reaches down, sliding one arm beneath her shoulders, the other under her knees, lifting her from the cold floor. She's never heavy in his arms, but tonight she feels lighter than ever.

He says nothing as he carries her inside. Words feel clumsy, so he stays quiet as he carefully places her on the couch, gaze locked on her face as he sinks to sit on the floor before her. It's like he suddenly doesn't have the energy to even take his place on the couch beside her, instead gazing up at Nami like he's trying to figure her out.

A long silence follows, until, without much thought, the words slip out: "I'm sorry."

There’s no space for embarrassment after she knows she’s been caught, not with the softness of relief blooming through her when Zoro collects her into his arms and carries her into his room. The familiarity, the rightness of him holding her, doesn’t blunt all the sharp edges that are part and parcel with the fears and anxieties the powerful feelings his presence at the casino has breathed into existence—but it’s wonderful enough to make all those thorns bearable. She’d do anything for her crew, but for Zoro that sentiment deepens into something warm, something that doesn’t make it seem insane or impossible when he tells her he’ll marry her when their quest for the One Piece is said and done.

Saying nothing, Nami tucks her chin and rests her head against his collar, hiding her face as her weight shifts until her side’s snuggled securely against his chest, shutting her eyes in an effort to steel herself against the weight that’s still settled hard on her chest. Her forehead creases when he chooses to sit on the floor instead of beside her, and for what feels like a long, drawn-out moment, neither says anything, the quizzical look on his face mirrored in her own expression.

She should care more about what a fool she is for him and work hard to guard herself against that, but he wears down her armor like nobody else in this world or any. Nami is not the kind who’ll ever give up, but she knows a losing battle when she experiences one. Fighting to not adore him, to now hang on every word, touch, and glance, is a fight she’s surrendered to right around the time this fool had the audacity to tell her he needed her.

Just like then, she slips out of her seat and joins him on the floor, and just like the first time, her arms find their way around him as smoothly and comfortably as someone who’s spent years being this close to him. Her eyes are round and pensive, sadness guiding her lips to curve down in a frown as she reaches out and gently cradles the side of his face, searching his expression for a clue, because he’s beautiful, because while she can’t find the words for it, she knows he’s struggling, and she hates to be a part of it.

Her forehead rests against his as she takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering half-closed as she lets herself move past the need to think and form a plan before she does. The hand on his jaw drifts to the back of his neck, where the blunt tips of her nails graze across skin.

“What I feel for you, I don’t feel for anybody else,” she mumbles, once she’s found her voice in the wake of that apology and everything that’s led up to it. Nami takes a moment, finding her resolve enough that she can draw back and look at his face without her expression darkening and contorting to reflect how tangled up inside she’s been in his absence.

“There’s nobody I love for the reasons that I love you.” The urge to wince or blush is strong, but for the time being, Nami is stronger, unwilling to relent to do anything that might make him hesitate or doubt that she means what she says. Being at the resort has allowed them to move forward in a direction neither of them really imagined beyond a passing fantasy on a quiet afternoon, but it’s also let in the bad too—the envy, the shitty compulsion to try and determine which parts of what they share have a place elsewhere with other lovers.

“So let me keep doing that.” Her eyes finally lower, both hands curving over his shoulders, steadying herself as much as she is reaching for him, her voice maddeningly weak to her own ears. “Don’t go.”

Somebody sucks at swordplay.

[ Attached is a brief video of some pompous looking asshole boasting about his skills before engaging in the clumsiest fought spar imaginable in one of the Talon's many practice rings against someone who wasn't great, but at least sucked considerably less than the jerk in question. ]

( He snorts to himself as he watches the video. What he sees is unimpressive, but he loves that Nami sent it to him. )

most of the jerks around here do. it's boring.

Made me wish I took you to the gym with me.

[ Another video of the guy in question trying and failing to get his practice baton-sword-thing back onto the rack more than a few times. ]

( He chuckles at the video, shaking his head. )

you wanna do some swordplay with me?

Are you making a pass at me, Zoro?

🍊 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

– late feb/early march

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better put a ring on it zozo

a ring, with matching earrings, bracelet, anklet—

lmao crying

screams

hay boo

hello~

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