i serve! (my ex's head on a platter)

by bitchimasnake_sss

Summary:

(via @bitchimasnake-sss on tumblr!)

synopsis: you've worked your ass off; early mornings, late nights, diets, workouts, everything. only to still to fall in the shadow of the current badminton world champion and your ex: roronoa zoro. bitter, agitated and absolutely exhausted, you had decided to never see him or even think of him again.
but when an email from his coach dracule mihawk finds you, proposing you and zoro team up for the upcoming mixed doubles champion's cup, can you refuse?

Chapter 1: i serve! (my ex's head on a platter)

Summary:

cw: smut, angst and dumb shenanigans!
warnings: dumb people even dumber plot by me <3
zoro is a pain in the ass. nsfw includes: oral (f!receiving), penetration, doin' the do raw, more angst and more shenanigans. did i mention zoro is a pain? yeah that. mdni, shoo now.
wc: 9.4k [IM SORRY I PUT TOO MUCH EFFORT INTO IT]

13th of june,
10:02 a.m

"i didn't think you would come."

"me neither."

you felt dracule mihawk's gaze study you as if you were an opponent on the court, eyeing every little movement from the involuntary twitch of your fingers to the shallow breaths you heaved out. an unease crept against your throat and made a residence in there as you stood at the entrance to the kuraigana mansion, waiting for the retired world champion to say anything.

by anything, you didn't exactly expect pleasantries.

"how have you been?" mihawk's face eased, a shallow smile carving itself against his usual vampire-ish appearance.

"just fine." you replied back coolly, "and you, sir?"

"ah, you know, the usual. tournaments, training zoro." his words stilled at the mention of his moss-haired son-turned-student and he eyed you motionless face.

if mihawk wanted you to give away anything about how you felt about zoro, he was setting himself up for failure. although the mere mention of the man's name made your skin crawl and fill you with bugs, you simply smiled, "i heard he won the last men's singles in france, congratulations."

"the praise is reserved for the player, not me." mihawk stepped aside, slowly beckoning you in, "well, come on in, then."

you stepped after him into the castle-like mansion. kuraigana residence. the interiors were classic black and white with random, almost-haphazard pops of pink and purple sprinkled in, probably perona's influence on her otherwise classy father's tastes.

"looking for someone?" the man enquired, not turning around to look at you as he guided you through the main entrance.

"no." you replied quickly before putting on a faux smile, "just admiring the interiors. you have a wonderful home, sir."

"thank you. credit goes to that enigmatic child of mine, perona." the man replied modestly, now taking you through the main living room. the room was huge. littered with two black couches, a large flatscreen, coffee-table, a table tennis table that didn't match the aesthetic whatsoever, with art plastered on each otherwise barren, white wall.

"are you home alone?" mindlessly, you looked around again, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain dreadful man.

"zoro is out with a couple of friends—"

"—i meant perona."

"well," mihawk sighed, now leading you into the gigantic kitchen, "you know her. she hates to stay home for more than two days. she's in milan right now, working with a label." he pointed to the seat near the marble kitchen island, "have you been in touch with perona?"

"no," you admitted casually as you sat atop one of the many seats, as he stood opposite to you on the other side of he island, "i mean, we follow each other on instagram, that's about it. we were never really close."

"i see." mihawk grabbed two wine-glasses, perching them on the table before pulling out a unopened wine bottle from the top cupboard, "wine?"

"i'm off alcohol for the season." you answered politely, and left out the fact that it was ten in the morning.

the man hummed a faint yes before pouring himself a glass full of familiar, maroon-hued liquid. he sipped in a drink, eyeing yourself before keeping the glass back on the marble, "well that's enough chit-chat, let's cut to the chase."

you perked up, elbows propped on the island as he continued, "i presume you got my mail."

"of course."

"then you know that i want you and zoro to team up for the upcoming doubles championship."

"i do." your fingers clasped together, chin resting atop them. you took a steadying breath, "and my answer is no."

mihawk crocked up an eyebrow as you continued, "it was always gonna be a no, sir. you are- were like a father to me, and that's the only reason i dignified your request with an actual visit. it does not change the fact that i will not team up with roronoa zoro."

"calling him by his legal name?" mihawk mused, "i thought he was 'zo to you. he only let you call him that, anyways."

that was in the past, though, wasn't it? years before he was number one in the men's category and you were at two in the women's category. years before he started pretending as if he had never known you. years before you showed up at his house only to turn down the offer to play alongside him.

"we are nothing more than strangers, i'm afraid."

the man hummed as he gulped down the rest of his drink alongside your words. as he poured himself another glass, he continued, "i have to be honest. my request is a bit more selfish than what i'm letting on."

he paused as you straightened up, "i'm retiring from the position of his coach after the doubles champions' tournament." you stared at the older man as he continued, "this is his last tournament with me as his coach."

"does zo- roronoa know?"

"not yet. he needs to focus on the game." mihawk shrugged, tipping his glass towards you, "and you and him both know i am at the age where i should move away to italy and open my own wine cellar, rather than running around on the court."

a laugh escaped you at the absurdity of mihawk's request, "what are you suggesting, sir? roronoa doesn't need me to win, he is capable enough to with with anybody."

he's the bloody number one, isn't he?

"you won the champions cup last year with that kid law, did you not? i would rather take the chances with you than somebody else."

you stilled, thinking of a flattering response before spewing out, "i only won because roronoa did not play last year, sir. the competition was slim, and me and law made a good team."

mihawk set his glass down, "don't try to sell yourself short. you are not inferior to zoro, we both know that."

maybe. but you would not team up with that bastard. not ever.

you dragged your seat backwards, standing up, "i am afraid it is still a no, sir. and if you do not want me as an opponent, i would happily withdraw from this year's tournament." you bowed, "thank you for having me over."

mihawk called out your name as you turned your back on him, "i would never beg, you know that. but zoro needs you to win." you looked over your shoulder at the older man, "and i need him to win this time, no matter what. do it for this old man, for old time's sake."

for old time's sake, is it?

you looked away from the man, letting his words turn sour against your skin. a sigh escaped you, "fine. we can discuss the details through my manager. but—" you turned around, casting a sharp glance at the coach, "—i am doing this only for your sake, mihawk. nothing more, nothing less."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

16th of june,
7:52 a.m.

three days later, you were clad in your practice set, and the duffel bag with your equipment felt heavier than usual in your right hand as you run the doorbell to the kuraigana residence.

the winds were unkind, the clouds were greying and ashy, a clear reflection of your spirit as a certain moss-head opened the door. your gaze tangled against his, and for a second you felt as if somebody punched you in the gut and left you paralysed, and a seventeen year old with a broken heart again.

he was so much prettier than he seemed on camera. tousled moss hair, a scar on his eye from when you were kids and a crooked smile that he gave the cameras when he won. fucking bastard. you couldn't wait to break a badminton racket on his stupid head. put him in a fucking coma.

so what if you both didn't win? you would kill him. yes, that will satiate your hunger. prison be damned.

a wayward shock running down your spine as you moved past him and inside the mansion. wordless.

"wh-what are you doing here?" his throat seemed to have gone dry as he hurriedly walked after you, carefully avoiding saying your name lest you were a demon he could summon.

"what?" you asked as you made your way to the living room, never once turning around lest you see his face and start punching him, "what do you mean why am i here? don't you know?"

"no?" irritation snipped at the raw edges of his words, "why are you here?"

your eyes widened in part amusement, part astonishment. is he dumb? is he actually clueless? that's roronoa zoro for you, i suppose.

"she's your partner." mihawk replied coolly from where he sat on the sofa, "for the mixed doubles campion's cup."

"HER?!" his voice cracked, eyes widening as he peered down at his own father, "DAD?!"

the annoyance in his voice set you aflame and you stared down at mihawk aswell, "you didn't tell him, sir?"

"well, i did." mihawk answered nonchalantly, sipping down wine slowly, "didn't i tell you, zoro? that your partner would be coming today to practice?"

"you didn't tell me it was her." he grumbled, and your blood pressure rose as you stared down mihawk, "sir, i would not team up with such a fucking idiot."

"zoro, do not behave like a hooligan—"

zoro whipped his neck to look at you, his jaw locked and eyes narrowed, "who are you calling a fucking idiot?"

you craned your neck to stare him down in return, "you."

zoro stepped forward towards his father and pointed accusatorily towards you, his earrings chiming ever-so-softly, "i am not teaming up with her."

"me neither." you grumbled, stepping forward to match his stance, "i take back what i said, i cannot partner up with him! he's insufferable."

but mihawk stared down the both of you and for a moment, you both were two sixteen year olds who just got caught making out in his room instead of adults in your twenties about to go for a international champion's cup.

"are you both gonna behave as adults or do i need to give you a stern lecture?" mihawk asked coolly.

"'m sorry, dad." zoro mumbled and you joined him as you both stared down at the floor, "i'm sorry too, sir."

the coach stood up, "apologize to each other. now."

zoro gave you a side-eye, "sorry."

"hm. sorry."

"much better. no animosity should linger between partners." mihawk put down the glass, "onto practicing we go, now. zoro lead her to the indoor court, i would be there soon."

indoor court? what the fuck.

zoro refused to dignify you with anything as you both walked through a maze of hallways that finally opened into a proper, full-sized indoor court.

"shit." you mumbled as you took in the open roof of the court. the grey overhead clouds casted a gloomy look on the court. zoro grumbled something under his breath before switching on a button which closed the metallic roof with a soft creak.

what the fuck.

well, soon enough, you realized two very important things: first, this mansion was insane. and second, roronoa zoro was number one for a reason.

you were heaving, chest rising and falling so rapidly that it felt as if your lungs and heart would burst inwards and paint you red. your calf muscles pulsed mercilessly as sweat dripped down your eyebrow and onto the flat plane of your cheeks. blinded by exhaustion, you tried to match the movements of the man opposite to you.

he was tired but he was graceful.

roronoa zoro was heaving, sweat trailing down his hair and neck and disappearing down his black shirt. but his gaze was focused, his steps ever-so-calculated as he ran from one end of the court to the other, and as he shot down the shuttle, the muscles in his bicep rippled and came alive with a strange delight.

"zoro, don't run so much. you have nothing to prove, you look like an idiot and you would exhaust yourself." mihawk noted, his voice booming between the sounds of the air being sliced by your shots and the soft sounds of pants and groans.

mihawk called out your name next, "do not restrain your arms. think of the racket as an extension of yourself, and allow your hands to move freely. hit harder. taking it easy gets us nowhere."

"i am trying." you grit through your teeth, trying to expend force as you hit back the shuttle with all your might.

zoro moved backwards, his arms being pulled back before he hit the shuttle back to your left. you attempted to run, to catch the shuttle before it fell to the court, but your right calf cramped up and your feet wobbled as you lost your footing and fell down.

"that's enough." mihawk concluded, "this is enough practice for today."

you allowed yourself to lay down on the court, holding your pulsating calf to your chest and panting through your mouth as the oxygen slowly flooded your muscles and eased your body up.

"are you okay?" mihawk asked you as he stood above you, peering you down with his hawk-like eyes. you nodded yes with a red face and tembling lips, assuring him you were fine.

as you stared up at the ceiling, you heard zoro pick up his duffel and walk out of the court without even as much of a "good game" or a "are you okay?" and it was crystal clear how far ahead roronoa zoro was, because you were on the ground trying to catch your breath while he was whistling and walking back to his room without as much of a water break.

fuck. lot of work to be done before you could kill that asshole.

"perhaps, you should stay here." mihawk suggested as you finally pulled yourself up and he offered you a bottle of water.

you spluttered on the liquid and some of it dribbled down your lips uncharacteristically, "wh-hat? here?"

"you would have to come in every morning," he answered back, "there is no point in travelling everyday now, is there? we have many spare bedrooms."

"i-" you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, looking up at the coach with furrowed brows, "i don't know, sir."

"we have spare rooms in the west wing, and zoro's room is in the east wing." mihawk crossed his arm, "the rest is your decision, of course."

you sighed, "is it really my decision?"

"no. a room has been set for your already." mihawk shrugged, "i thought you would agree for this old man's sake."

"jesus fucking christ, you're good at emotional blackmailing."

8:31 p.m.

"i don't understand why she's here." zoro grumbled as he munched on his dinner.

"because it is pointless for her to come and go every day," mihawk dabbed his lips with a white cloth, "and do not talk when you're eating."

"so i need to see her face everyday?"

"can you stop talking about me as if i'm not here?" you glared at man sitting opposite to you, "i don't want to see you face everyday either."

zoro smiled so politely that it made you want to rip his hair out of his scalp with a kitchen knife. prison be fucking damned.

"then, leave."

"i swear on any god—"

"—what? what do you swear? if you're asking favours from god, maybe ask for getting better at badminton." the man scoffed, thoroughly happy with his own little jab.

"mihawk," you glared daggers at zoro, "if i kill roronoa, would you turn me in to the police?"

"of course he will." zoro squinted.

you squinted back at the athelete, "no, he can just adopt me and forget about you instead. he likes me better, anyways."

"oh, does he?" zoro quipped up rhetorically and mihawk shrugged, dabbing his lips before admitting a casual "she is quite lovely."

"dad!—"

a cashmere grin, eyes never leaving the athlete. "thank you, sir."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

3rd of august,
11:07 a.m.

the next few weeks were a strange repetition, days filled only with three characteristic things: first, you woke up at five in the morning, practiced with a very-angry zoro (because god knows how much he resents those five am alarms) till you were about to pass out. second, ate food that their divinely gifted chef made. and third, bickered with zoro like a child.

"who the fuck puts a table-tennis table in the living room? money clearly cannot buy some sense of design." you glared at him as he glared right back at you. mihawk was out, the house was eerily quiet and you two had just finished up with the first practice session of the day, the adrenaline still pumping high through your mortal bodies.

"how do you know i put it in here?"

"'cause perona actually understands decor? you are the directionless idiot."

"okay. not that i have to explain to you but— first of all, it's practical for when my friends come over." he paused, thinking, "oh, do you know what friends are? they are people that voluntarily hang out with you and like—"

"oh, so funny." you mockingly laughed before crossing your arms in front of your chest. the sportsman momentarily stared down at your chest. jesus christ. he was reeled back into reality, quickly looking away and pretending to hit a mosquito. there are no mosquitoes here. a blushed crept up his face, to the tips of his ears, "yeah, i know. i'm funny."

"doesn't excuse your poor fucking decor skills."

"well, for starters, i can do what i want because it's my house—"

"—your dad's."

"and you are living in my house."

"because your dad asked me to because he likes me better."

"i-" his jaw was clenched shut as he stepped forward. his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath ragged as his gaze slowly cascaded down to your lips. his breath staggered helplessly, eyes quickly darting upwards to stare you in the eyes, "why don't you go and practice? get on my fucking level instead of bitching and moaning about meaningless shit?"

ah, you had almost forgotten how quickly his saccharine words turned sour. you had almost forgotten how well-versed roronoa zoro was in destruction, whether at the court or with your heart.

a certain ache built up in your chest as you pushed him back, and for a moment you both were sixteen, having your first fight all over again. except he was taller now, his eyes hardened and his tongue sharp enough to cut through you instead of kissing you sweetly and making amends.

your lips trembled, glaring up at him as you stepped closer to the man you had once been disillusioned enough to believe you knew, "fuck you, roronoa."

"roronoa? we're being formal now?" he stared down at you, eyes boring down in yours as he held himself off with barely tangible threads of sanity. his voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again, "didn't realize that's what you called me."

"i call you nothing, let me make that clear. we are not friends nor acquaintances, strangers is all."

well, strangers don't know how it feels to kiss someone in a poorly-lit room and taste of reckless first-times and childhood innocence, they do not know of each other's long-forgotten dreams, and they certainly don't look at each other as if the only thing holding them back was their own wounded prides.

you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his bicep as your quick steps led you away from him and into the room you had temporarily come to call home.

fuck roronoa zoro.

11:02 p.m.

you refused to go out of your room for lunch, or for dinner for that matter.

had you been a greater woman, perhaps you would have walked out, kept that conversation behind you for the next two and a half weeks, and simply focus on winning. had you been a lesser woman, perhaps you would have locked your door and cried into your sheets about anything and everything roronoa zoro.

but you did neither.

you sat on your bed and stared down the spotless ceilings, trying to come up with ideas to kill that man without ever getting caught. well no, prison be damned. orange wasn't such an awful colour anyways. if trump could make it work, so could you.

your phone buzzed, and the low rumbling pulling you out of the symphony of wicked thoughts that begged you to either go kill zoro or kiss him so hard that he forgets he belongs to this mortal plane — both ideas that would ultimately land you playing a gamble with death. you picked up the device only to come face-to-face with an email from your manager asking for updates.

 

to: [email protected]: [email protected] do you want me to kill him? for legal reasons, this is a joke. update me on how things go. don't lose your radiance over that moss-head.

 

"fuck," your voice was soft as your feet hit the carpeted floors, eyes locked at the time. 11:02.

although your pride held up to the resolve to starve yourself of any human contact, your stomach sadly didn't wish to comply. an embarrassing rumble made you well-aware of your hunger and you decided with a defeated sigh to go down and beg the chef for whatever he could make you at this time of the night.

you walked to the door, opening it slowly as you came face to face with—

"you?" your pupils were blown wide open, taking in a the image of a guilty-looking zoro halfway-crouched at your door, "you."

your palm found purchase against your hips, face in an easy scowl, "what the fuck do you want, now?"

"nothing?" he argued back haughtily, pulling himself to his feet hastily, "i- i was going to the bathroom."

"on the opposite wing of the mansion?" your eyes drifted down to his hands where he held a white plastic bag, "with a whole grocery bag in your hand?"

"yes?" he clutched the bag tighter, "and it's none of your business."

you gave him a look he was well-versed in. a look that practically begged him to drop this act of nonchalance and come clean. a look roronoa zoro crumbled under.

the sportsman shifted on his feet, his eyes drifting downwards to your feet as he slowly held out the bag towards you. when he spoke, his voice was matter-of-factly, "you didn't eat today."

"huh?—" you clutched the plastic in your palms, peering down to look at two packets of familiar cup noodles, a six pack of beer and a toblerone thrown in for good measure. you looked up at the man as a strange feeling made home in your veins. warmth?

you stared at the packaging, dumbfounded, "cup noodles?"

"i- i don't know if you still like these ones." he admitted softly, gaze still avoiding yours, "but i heard you said you liked these in... in one of those interviews in the last women's singles, uh the one in tokyo—"

"you watched my match?"

his fingers twitched, "no. whatever, if you don't like it, i can just take it away—"

"—how did you think i did?"

the tokyo finals were against the number one in the female category: boa hancock. beauty, grace, talent: everything good and holy found a home in her, it seemed. because at the end of the match, she defeated you with a neck-to-neck match. your 20 points to rival her 22 points. her number one title to rival your number two.

roronoa zoro finally met your eyes, a proud wayward glint in his eyes that gnawed at your insides, and a simple "you did good."

"i lost."

"doesn't refute the fact that you did good."

"if i had done good, i would have won."

"don't talk bullshit." he crossed his arms, eyebrow arched and shoulder leaning against the doorframe. the muscle bulged under his navy blue shirt, earrings glittering cautiously in the dim light as his words cut through your flimsy counterattacks, "you did well, so, take the compliment. it's not about winning, it's about getting better. you did way better than last year's sweden semi-finals."

"you saw sweden too?" you asked softly, the disbelief in your voice evident in your face, tainting your pretty features a murky shade of confused.

but zoro refused to answer what was obvious, instead rambling on about the actual game, "your shots have gotten a lot more crisper since sweden. your breath control has gotten better, and your wrist work too. not to mention that—"

"—roronoa." you halted him, "what if you lose this tournament 'cause of me?"

"we're playing as a team. if we win, we both win. if we lose, we both lose." he didn't bother comforting you. just laid the truth bare in front of you, "simple as that."

"would you... hate me? if we lost, i mean?"

his face shifted, something inkling to the ghost of a smile on his lips, "how could i ever hate you?"

what the fuck.

your gaze betrayed you as it found a home against his lips. you mind begged for answers. why did he know all that, how did he know all that, why did he fucking care? and most importantly why were you not listening to his helpful advice, instead admiring his pretty eyes and the scar that ran across them.

zoro stopped himself, features going still as he propped himself back and stood up straight. he cleared his throat and hid his features under an usual cloak of nonchalance. the sportsman nodded to the plastic bag, "just eat, and sleep soon. we need to be up early. don't think dad's gonna let us off the hook cause we were fighting in the middle of the night."

you stared at him, a furious blush building up in your cheeks, "right, thanks." you looked down at the contents again, "but you brought me two packs and six beers?"

"and a toblerone." scrambling to find an excuse, the mosshead tripped over his own words, "i– well, i mean you must be hungry. are you not? of course, you are, right? if you don't want it, you don't have to eat it."

"no, it's just— uh, do you wanna come in?" you paused, "i... don't think I can finish six beers alone."

he stood before you dumbstruck. 5'10 of muscle and flesh and skin, standing before you with a flabbergasted look in his eyes. as if he didn't want that with every inch of his body and soul. but he was a man of great restraint, so, he shook his head, "thanks, but uh— we both need to be up early tomorrow."

your throat went dry, your words as it barely audible, "of course, see you."

"hm, yeah. g'night." he grew awkward, thumbing his earring just to have something to do, "i just didn't want you to get the wrong idea— like you know, we shouldn't fight among ourselves—"

"—no animosity between partners, as mihawk says?"

"something like that, yeah." he sighed, and you found yourself being kicked in the face by whatever self-esteem you had left. of course, he was just making amends. your wretched heart and it's stupid daydreams be damned. "okay then, i'm sorry for the morning. and uh, 'night."

"'night." he turned, ready to leave and his name left your lips before you could register what was happening, "zoro—?"

he turned around immediately, an apprehensive plea in his eyes, "yeah?"

"i—" you fished for the chocolate and held it in your hands, "you can have this, i don't really like it."

he took the bar, ideally turning it in his palm, "i thought you liked these?"

"used to. five years ago. i'm not seventeen anymore." you pressed your lips into a thin line, "people change."

"uh, yeah, i guess they do." a pause, "or maybe they... don't?"

that was the last (luke)warm conversation you had with roronoa zoro. days passed you by as did a rigorous, drilling schedule. wake up, practice, practice, practice, sleep. but hey! two and a half weeks of this and you would walk home with another champion's cup to your name, so, how bad can it possibly be?

that moss-for-brains asshole was a problem for two and a half week later you. yes. indeed. indeed.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

21st of august,
9:51 a.m.

you let out a shuddering breath, adrenaline pumping through your veins and hands gripping the handle tighter. you took a step backward, positioning yourself as zoro stood to your right, ready to serve the shot.

the sound of his racket slicing the air rang through the court as the shuttle made it's way over the net and onto your opponent's side. the woman in front of you lunged forward, shooting the shuttle back towards you.

mixed doubles champion's cup. barcelona, spain. finals.
you and roronoa zoro vs. ino takuma and nobara kugisaki.
your 19 points vs. their 17 points in the third round.
just two more and you'd win the cup.

your arm pulled backwards, right foot behind your left, head tipped back as you smashed the shuttle back into their side towards where ino stood, ready. the shuttle whirled past his racket by a hairsbreadth and fell down on the court.

"20 love." the umpire announced pointing to you and zoro, and then to the rival team, "17 love."

just one more.

"fuck yeah." zoro gave you a feral smile. his hair was drenched, sweat slowly dripping off of his jawline. he moved forward, a new shuttle in his palm and he got ready to serve again, the jersey with roronoa on it crinkled and sticking to his back. he looked over his shoulder, giving you a nod, "ready?"

"fuckin' hope so." you huffed out, nodding slowly and backing to take your position.

the shuttle left your side of the court, tearing through air and onto their side. the air was tense, the audience growing impatient as both the teams lunged to their left and right to land definitive shots. ino takuma took a step back, jumping upwards as he delivered a smash that whirled past your cheekbone and landed on the court, "fuck."

"18 love." the umpire declared, "and 20 love."

just one more.

you walked over to zoro, and he wiped his forehead off with the back of his hand. his face was angled downwards, words right against the shell of your ear, "'s fine, we're leading. we're winning."

just one more.

the next few minutes were a battle on the court. flicks of wrist, sweat trailing down your back, the feel of feet shuffling on court as you and zoro worked in sync. his shots to your steps and your shots to his, as the team opposite to you kept up their assault.

your feet moved to their own accord, skidding forward before you jumped upwards. your racket made contact with the shuttle and you smacked it down with every bit of force you had. your breath was caught in your throat, heart beating loudly, blood rushing past your eardrums as you saw kugisaki fumble and drop the shuttle.

just one more.

a roar went through the audience, mihawk yelling out in an uncharacteristic manner, and you found yourself sinking to your knees. the court felt cold and sturdy against your knees, relief washed over your shuddering form and wayward tears pooled at the edge of your eyes. your gaze lifted up, and within the blindness from the overhead lighting, you found zoro giving you the smallest of nods with a reckless smile plastered to his lips.

and then roronoa zoro proceeded to ignore you for the rest of the evening. the problem for two and a half week later you was here. fuck.

12:44 p.m.

you glanced at the man next to you through your eyelashes. how he looked annoyed and shook his head, how those cursed earrings chimed as he answered a question that the press asked, how he ignored you for the nth hour of the night.

the fucker didn't even thank you or appreciate you to your face the entire day. what a bitch.

"is it true, then?" the reporter's bangs moved enthusiastically, "are the rumors of you dating true? everyone seems to notice that the air seems charged between the two of you."

"of course not," zoro leaned into the mic, his eyes boring holes into that reporter before he chased it away with a polite smile, "those are just rumors. we're just partners." he looked at you once, twice, "right?"

"yeah." you answered, monotone. "just rumors. having him in the same team was taxing enough for me, mentally. i cannot imagine him as a boyfriend."

the reporter grinned, as if having found something worth exaggerating, "so, was having him as a partner hard? would you say law was much better?" as the mention of the brunette, you noticed zoro pick up one of the water-bottles in front of him and attempt to crush it. the reporter paused, "and you, roronoa? was it hard for you too?"

"well, we've had our differences." he crossed his arms, letting go of the poor, unassuming bottle. was he hoping his biceps would distract the crowd of rightfully-thirsty ladies? slut.

"but the most important part of any doubles game is team-work." he continued, without even giving you half a glance, "and without her, i would have failed to win. that much is for sure."

"isn't that sweet?" the woman cooed.

isn't that sweet? no. no it is not.

"so would you partner up with each-other? are we gonna see more of this dynamic duo?"

"ah," zoro looked at you, at a loss of words. you leaned into the mic, plastering on a smile, "we'd see where fate leads us."

12:03 a.m.

fate led you here.

you stared at your phone as another headline caught your eye: turns out badminton is more than a clash of rackets, it's a clash of hearts! find our the story of roronoa zoro and his partn—

the only clashing will be of a plate against that bastard's head.

you scrolled further, just to run into another headline: roronoa zoro admits feelings in press conference after the match. click to—

your fingers hovered over the link, almost opening the headline just to confirm if they saw the same press conference as you. cause there were no feelings anywhere there. right? right.

then another: love island? no! it's the champion's cup! catch the story of team-mates turned lovers—

"—what bullshit." you huffed, scrutinizing the photo under the headline that depicted you looking at zoro as he answered some question with the caption "lovesick gaze."

you threw your phone to the side and it bounced twice before falling fce-down. a pathetic groan left your lips as you dragged your palm over your face.

you should be celebrating, getting drunk somewhere maybe? or you should be sleeping, feeling satisfied after the big win. instead, you were rotting in your bed, staring at the ceilings wondering what was the easiest way to ensure you never saw your ex again. this was a one time affair, after all. all because mihawk asked you—

knock knock knock.

your feet hit the wooden floors, absentmindedly walking to the door. did you order room service? maybe they wanted to give you a cake to celebrate you? or—

"—r-roronoa?" your words died in your throat as you stared down the man in front of you. he was dressed in a casual navy t-shirt and black sweats. his hair was wet, strands sticking to his forehead, and he held a bored look on his face. "do you want something?"

"can i come in?"

he looked tipsy.

"ye- no? no." you paused, a tsunami of emotions building within you. you were supposed to get away from him! "i need to sleep. it's late."

"this won't take long." his brows furrowed, eyes softened, "i promise."

you hesitantly stepped to the side, allowing for your former partner to step in. a sigh fell past your lips as you closed the door and locked it shut.

"what is it?" you asked, and your breath hitched as zoro stepped closer. his arm on either side of you as he peered down at you as if he would devour you whole. "w-what? roronoa."

"did you hear what they're publishing 'bout us?" his words felt like thunder against your soft skin.

"no," your face grew hot with the impossible possibility that somehow he knew what you were browsing minutes before he came. you blinked up at him. careful. "what are they saying?"

he scoffed, and stepped back, "that we're lovers. it's stupid."

you looked down at the wooden floors, goosebumps erupting across your body at the fleeting contact, "it's just gossip, it'll die down. don't worry."

"i guess." he sighed, running a hand across his face. he didn't meet your gaze, muttering a cowardly "i am gonna go, then."

"what?" you looked up at him, the fiery feeling in your body turning to soot and ash, "that is all?"

"yeah?"

"you don't wanna say anything else?" you found yourself walking forward, and he stepped back to maintain the distance. a glare crossed your pretty face, "this is it?"

"did i do something?" zoro looked from your eyes to your lips to your unrelenting steps towards him, "hey, woman?"

"hey, woman?" your brows furrowed, exasperated words tumbling past you and clashing against his stone-cold exteriors, "fucking hey, roronoa? hey! how are you!— are you fucking for real?"

you stopped a mere inches away from him, index finger jabbed against his solar plexus. you looked up at him, eyes filled to the brim with mirth as you found his, "y-you didn't even fucking thank me! or say congrats— or any fucking thing."

"i didn't?" he tried to ask but the dam of your emotions was open, the ugly and grotesque that were buried within your mortal body for five years toppling over each other till they turned even more vile, "shut up."

"after all you've done and said five years prior, i thought you would have the fucking decency to end it on a good note this time around." you scoffed, eyes boring into his, "i was fucking wrong. you can never change. you'd always be roronoa zoro, the star player. and i'd be the fool that waited on you."

your name made past his lips, eyes closing as he tried to fend himself off.

"—oh now you're using my name? after two fucking months?" the laugh that you choked out was barely a laugh. you jabbed the finger deeper against his muscled body with every stressed syllable, "you left. you fucking left me. just. like. that."

"let me explain. we were seventeen—"

"—shut up. i wake up one morning, and you're gone. you fucking left town and the next i see of you, you're on the national news winning bronze in olympics." a humorless laugh, "and all that after you said you loved me."

"i still do."

"fuck you, roronoa."

"that's not what you call me." he breathed out slowly, fingers finding purchase against your wrist and bringing your hand upwards to press a chaste kiss, "that's not my name."

"fuck you, zoro." you spat out, and your fingers pulled his face downwards and towards you. you halted, your lips a hairsbreadth away from his, and he decided to close the distance by crashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

his hands skimmed over every inch of your body, never staying one place for too long — from the back of your neck to your hips — as he drunk down any unruly noises. your fingers dug deeper against his cheeks, pulling him into your impossibly closer.

"i hate you." you whispered through the fury of kisses, as the man dragged himself downwards and placing kisses across your neck. his teeth sunk against your pulse and you whimpered as he soothed the spot with another messy kiss, "i know."

all teeth and spit and broken resolves as you pushed him backwards till he fell atop your bed.

"i hate you." your body felt like lead, as if each action was one step forward to your untimely demise.

"i know." he propped himself up, face titling upwards as you sinfully teased him. your face so close to his, so pretty as you just barely kissed him, but never getting too close lest you lose control and allow your wicked fantasies to run amok.

"don't tease." he grinned — the savage kind — as a hand came up to pull your face downwards. his fingers were firm against the hollow of your cheeks and the kiss, bruising. as if he wanted to do enough damage to make up for the past five years.

"we sh- we shouldn't." you whined into the kiss as his fingers danced under your tshirt, teasing the skin with brief contact before swiping a leisurely thumb across your perky nipples. he pulled back, face flushed as his deft fingers pulled the hem of your tshirt upwards, "don't lie. you want this."

"don't get cocky." you glared daggers at him but complied nonetheless. your fingers softly over his as he dragged your oversized tshirt upwards. his breath hitched, eyes locked on how your skin erupted into goosebumps and perked up. he leaned forward, soft lips around your hardened nipple and he hummed at the contact, "'m not gettin' cocky."

you keened into his touches, fingers pulling his still damp hair, which only prompted him to suck harder, and then chased it with a soft kiss. but you grew impatient, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, "off."

"yes ma'am."

your fingers grabbed ahold of his jaw, tipping it backwards as you took him in. the damp hair stuck to his nape, gaze half-lidded and lips parted as he looked up at you. your gaze hardened, words caught in the thick air between you two, "this means nothing."

zoro took his shirt off, his hands pulling your warm ones to his torso. he nodded slowly, uttering false promises between open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, "nothing at all."

"i- i mean it," you whispered, your fingers tracing up and down the rigid plane of muscles and skin. your chest pressed against his as his hands snaked around your waist, "i know, baby." hot kisses smothered against your skin, "i know."

and world's number one had you pinned under him. hovering over you, the damp strands hanging loosely to frame his face. your face burned up as he traced the tip of his index finger across your face, then slowly dragged across your skin from your chest to your stomach and to the waistband of your shorts.

your hips bucked up as he thumbed the skin above the said waistband, "z-zoro."

"what do you want? tell me." his warm, calloused palms massaged your inner thighs, spreading them open to put up a show for himself. he swiped your clothed core, "wet already?"

"fuck off." a smug grin crept across his lips, head dipping down to press kisses to your exposed skin as his fingers dragged down the waistband and took off those layers off of you. he stared up, hands growing rougher, impatient, "tell me, what do you want?"

you squirmed as he continued pressing kisses, carefully avoiding your needy core. "i-" you clenched your eyes shut, embarrassment sewing itself against your skin. you mumbled, "don't make me say it."

"i need to hear ya." he licked a languid stripe, collecting the honeyed slick on the tip of your tongue. maybe he had less resolve than he had assumed, because at once he found himself licking fat strips up and down, catching your trembling bud between his lips and sucking. you tasted of divinity and sin all wrapped in one woman and he found himself at your altar, nothing more than a helpless man.

and just like that, roronoa zoro lost all sanity.

"fuck." he hummed against you, lapping at you like a man starved. his eyes stayed train on you, gaze fixated as he watched you catch your bottom lip between your teeth and arch your back. you were so pretty. it made him ache from within, something primal that made him dive into your divine cunt nose-deep and rut against the mattress like a man who knew no patience.

when roronoa zoro pulled back, you saw a man devoid of any and all trace of rationality. he was a demon ready to devour you whole. or die trying.

he held himself back, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs and hips lest he couldn't control himself. out of breath, out of mind, "tell me."

"wan' you." you mumbled, shying away from him. squirming, trying to pull away from his iron-grip on your thighs, trying, "need you t-to fuck me."

"louder." he met your eyes in a challenge, and you rivaled his stare, "fuck me."

the kiss he lay atop your hip bone was impossibly soft, his voice even more soft, "on it."

he licked quick stripes, drinking you down like you were some forbidden nectar. words barely audible as he put two fingers in your mouth. a moment later, his fingers were drilling into you. experienced hands thrusting up into you, hitting that one gummy spot over and over and over and over—

"z— ohmygod ohmygod oh—" you tried to catch your breath, tried to make sense of the situation but the mosshead caught your pulsating clit against his lips, humming and ramming into you like a mad man. watching you as you fell apart on his tongue and fingers.

twitching, bucking up, trying to run away from him as his fingers fucked you senseless. trying to run away from him?

he pulled you towards himself, putting his weight on top of your hips. you cannot run away. "don't run, don't run. not when i just got you."

"z-zoro— stop, stop it." you cried into the air, head lolling backwards as he continued his assault on your poor pussy.

"what?" he asked, gaze predatory as he continued pumping in and out of you, "see how she's gripping me? she wants me 'sbad." he thrust up harder, fingers playing against that one spot, and your body tried to turn left, to run away. but he wouldn't let you. he pulled his fingers back, just to fuck into you harder, "see. wants me so, so bad."

zoro pressed a hungry kiss to your clit, "am i taking good care of her?"

and all you could do was grip the sheets and withstand the pleasure as another tsunami built in your lower stomach. his thumb found your clit, pressing and rubbing the little nub, "answer me."

and the pressure built and built within you. tugging on your insides harshly, as he toyed with you and your aching pussy. and then it all came crashing down. spotless white washed over your eyes, head lolling back, fingers gripping the sheets so hard and a silent scream caught in your throat.

when he pulled back, his jaw was drenched, hair damp and eyes maddened. through his tunnel-vision, he found you spent on the bed. eyes clenched shut blissfully, hair tangled 'neath you, and reddened lips.

when you had the courage to open your eyes and look up at him. fuck. how dare you do that to a man? your eyes were watery, lips trembling as you told him "i can't." and roronoa zoro decided it was as good time as any to fuck you to the point of breaking.

and now he had your legs pushed to your ears, the mushroom tip dragging itself against your walls. a groan past his lips as he hooked his arm under one leg, fucking into you with all the patience in the world. so slow, so patient, so fucking agitating.

your nails dug crescent moons into his biceps, huffing out a, "f-faster, c'mon."

"hm?" his eyebrows bunched, face falling into almost a pout, "faster? think you can handle it?"

"shu-shut up ngh—" a gasp came alive as he thrust into you faster, before slowing down his pace and toying with you again. a delirious grin came to his lips as you whined out, "ugh zoro."

"just remember," he pulled it out till his tip barely kissed your entrance, and rammed it back in, "you asked for this."

and now you were pushing the same nails in his biceps, gasping as he fucked into you with abandon. he pressed kisses to your thighs, to your knees, to any part of you that was accessible to him. hot breath fanning over your skin as his dick pumped in and out of you.

"'fuck, 'zo—" he hissed like it hurt, thrusting harder at the nickname. his pace was bruising, intentions to destroy you, "say that again."

"wh-what?" you played dumb.

strong hands came up to manhandle you to sit you atop him. searing hands on your hips as he moved you up and down his cock. a stutter made past your lips as you fell forward at the sudden change in position. hands bracing themselves against the hard muscle, you bit down on your lips, eyes rolling back, "i— fuck f-fuck, zo."

balls slapping against your ass, the sound of skin on skin deafening enough between his groans and your gasps. his grip on your unforgiving as you he helped you downwards each time to meet his erratic thrusts.

heaving, sweat trailing down his bow, your nails digging into his chest as you hugged him so sinfully tight. what were you doing to this poor man and his sanity? spasming, clenching around him, unforgiving, as he rammed upwards into you.

"i-i'm gon' cum—"

"yeah?" he breathed out, eager fingers coming to tease your puffy clit. sporadic swipes of his thumb against the aching nub, raising himself up to slowly bite down on the column of your throat, "cum f'me."

"ohmygod ohmygod zo—" head thrown back, you choked back sobs of his name as the white-hot pleasure built in your stomach and released all over his abs and chest, "fu-fuck ngh sh-shit, zoro!"

you, covered in your own essence, head thrown back, hair sticking to your chest and back, face flushed, eyes clenched shut. you.

zoro turned you around, your helpless moans trapped against the pillow as his heel dug into the dirtied mattress, and he drilled his cock into you harder and harder and harder. no rhythm, no reason as he chased his own high within you.

your overstimulated cunt spasmed around him, hugging his curved dick like you were milking him for all he was worth. fuck. fuck. fuck.

"ah— fuck." he groaned in the shell of your ear, tongue darting out to lick a languid stripe at the base of your ear as you felt his hips stutter, emptying within you.

his sweaty body stilled above yours, pressing you down into the sticky mattress. a moment later, he heaved out a content sigh and pulled it out. hitched breaths, a new wave of need building within him as he stared at the milky white gushing out of your pretty cunt.

mindlessly, his fingers pushed back the creamy white back into your poor, trembling hole. he swiped at your clit one last time, and you jolted under his torturous touches. a whine into the pillow, hips bucking away from him. you warned him, "zo."

"hah, sorry." he grinned, amused at your compliant state, before collapsing next to you.

you raised your flushed face, dazed eyes finding his pretty face next to you. he looked so pretty, it hurt. his flushed face illuminated by the soft lighting from the bedside lamps, the earrings glinting as they chimed softly against his skin, the soft smile that tugged at his lips.

this was roronoa zoro, the star player.

his fingers slowly came up to your face, pushing the damp hair strands backwards. the same fingers then traced over your nose, and your bottom lips.

and there was you, the fool that always stayed.

"zo... zoro." you pulled away from his skimming touches, "you— uh, what's the time?"

you looked away from him to pick up your phone: 2:11 a.m.

"it's late." shutting the phone, you didn't turn to look at him. what if he called out your name, looked at you, persuaded you? softly, you whispered into the heady air, "you should go back to your room. it's late, and i wanna sleep."

"wh- what are you doin'?" his hands ran over your arms, desperate touches bringing you back flush against his naked chest.

"zoro." you turned to look at him, eyes barely able to hold his steady gaze, "i-" you sucked in a breath, eyes tracing downwards to stare down his tan chest, "this meant nothing, you know that."

a scoff, "are—" the expression died, eyes widening, "should i actually leave?"

you nodded before pulling back from him, "go."

"please, just listen to me—" he sat up, shoulders squaring up as if he was ready to put up a combat for that explanation. his fingers years to touch yours, "i can explain."

you pulled your hand back, holding them against your chest. your resolved hardened. this was roronoa zoro, the star player. and this was you, and you were on your goddamn level now. no longer the fool that stuck around.

"go back to your room, rorona."

"r-roronoa? it's 'zo, for you." he begged, shifting to turn fully towards, "listen to me just once."

you shook your head, "no explanation will be good enough—"

"—i couldn't say goodbye to you. or i would have never felt like leaving that town." he pleaded, hands coming up to cradle your cheek, "and that town was a dead-end for my career. i had to leave—"

"then, leave right now as well. you're good at that shit, anyways."

"please—"

"leave."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

22nd of august,
12:03 p.m.

when you saw roronoa zoro at the checkout counter, you pretended he didn't exist. he was dead. to you, anyways.

the mosshead didn't bother making conversation, too busy comprehending the reality where you didn't even bother looking at him twice. not even as you clutched the LV in your hands tighter, and walked out through the glass doors and out where your driver waited for you.

the chants of your name stopped you dead in your tracks as a swarm of reporters stood to your left, being held off by the hotel security. the swarm of cameras, notepads and haunting questions being pushed back by men in black, pristine suits.

"is it true?!" a shrill, familiar voice caught your attention. you dragged your shades upwards, giving the reporter from yesterday a compliant smile, "is what true?"

"that you and roronoa zoro are together?!"

your eyebrow twitched, and you dragged the sunglasses downwards. the world was tinted a dark brown, and you put on another polite smile. that bastard be damned. "n—"

"yeah." the jock called out, a self-satisfying smile on his face as he stood behind you. his arm came to wrap around you, flesh against flesh feeling familiar as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, "got a problem with that?"

you whipped to look at the man that had come to become the bane of your existence and the object of your desires. but before you knew what was happening, you were being ushered by his 5'10 self into the car backseat. when you came back to reality, the car was already was on the highway and zoro was looking out the window as if he didn't just do that.

"what the fuck?!" your voice was shrill, "what the fuck, roronoa? what did you just do?!"

"it's good for publicity." he replied, solemnly. "my manager told me to do that."

"which deranged bastard is your manager?" you fisted your hand, the leather handle of the purse almost disintegrating under the intensity. glaring at him with murderous intent, you choked out a, "tell me now and i'll get sanji to murder him."

"her." zoro corrected, "name's nami. she's the best in the game."

"you're dead, roronoa."

"ah, no i'm not." he grinned, a mad man. "cheer up, babe. we have appearances to keep up."

what the fuck. what the fuck?!

Notes:

hello. uh, i have nothing to say except i just really wanted to write this 🤡. not proofread cause its uhm 10k words. nobody's gonna read this shit anyways, i think. if you've read this whole, THANK YOU!!! MWUAH MWUAH MAY BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW BE COLD AND YOU GET TO EAT SOMETHING GOOD <3
roronoa zoro being a menace is my favourite gender.

Chapter 2: what kind of a pr stunt is this?!

Summary:

synopsis: exes are exes for a reason. right? right. then why were you pretending to be in love with the same man that broke your heart five years ago? what kind of publicity stunt is this? and more importantly, is it worth your sanity?

warnings: dumb people, even dumber plot by me! NOT PROOFREAD SO IM SORRY FOR TYPOS.
includes heavy angst towards the end, fake dating shenanigans. zoro is a pain. and smut (hehe u nasty). nsfw thoughts include cuddle fucking (wow, my demons made me write it), penetration, teasing, dirty talk, a little bit of bimbofication. GIRL NEVER LET A MAN RUIN YOUR CAREER!!
wc: 9.6k

26th of august,
9:53 p.m.

"i do not fucking get it." your gaze followed the movements of the shuttle as it moved from the blue-haired girl to your coach, nico robin.

"well," the voice through the speaker was eerily calm for the man that was uttering them, "that's the thing, you don't have to get it. i talked to nami-swan~" and you could practically hear the drool and the heart-eyes in your manager's voice.

"nami-swan?" you leaned back, your back hitting the blue seat in the audience.

the practice court was empty, only haunted by the sounds of air being sliced and shuttles being compromised one after the other for the sake of the game. only three people remained: you, vivi — your partner in the upcoming women's doubles — and coach robin, the former number one in female category. you stared at the court, eyes still following the movements of the shuttle, the phone in your hand and the contact vinsmoke sanji on speaker.

vivi heaved out a trembling breath before hitting a particularly hard stroke, and your eyes widened, awestruck, as coach robin easily defended the oncoming strike. sometimes, you wondered, if your coach had the power to summon more hands.

your practice session was over, and you sat, catching your breath as the man broke you out of your daze, "oh, don't be jealous! you are ever more radiant, more gorgeous—"

"—get to the point, sanji."

"ofcourse." he cooed, "see, you hate roronoa zoro, correct?"

your breath hitched, but you nodded nonetheless, "correct."

"you do not wish to see him again, correct?"

"correct."

"and from what i gather, he isn't fond of you, either. right?"

ouch. "yeah."

"perfect! so this is the most brilliant plan! you just have to pretend to be with him just for a few months—"

"—months, sanji?" your eyes widened, as you subconsciously sat up straight at the idea of having to endure that moss-headed bastard for several months.

"oh, it's not as bad as it sounds!" he tried to defend, "just think about the end goal. after pretending for a few months, you both "break up", and then you have to literally never think about him or see him ever again. how wonderful, isn't it?" his voice swooned, "nami-swan is pretty smart~"

and you slumped backwards at the explanation. months of torture? would it even be worth it? probably not. you rubbed your temple, trying to fend off a budding headache, "we're sportsmen. we are supposed to focus on sports, what the fuck is up with this pr stunt?"

"you and him are sportsmen, correct." you could hear him take a drag of his cigarette, "but me and nami-swan are your managers. you both are at the peak of your respective careers, and sports is a fickle thing, my love. you know that."

"i do but—"

"darling, your job is to play. mine is to ensure that the next brand ambassador for nike is you."

you sighed, hell-bent on finding flaws in the situation, "and dating roronoa does that for me?"

"not exactly," he blew out the smoke, "but once you are through with him, imagine the amount of sympathy you gain? there'd be fan-edits of you on tiktok and comment section full of go girlboss! he doesn't deserve you~" he paused, letting you get used to the opportunity, "we use that, we built you up as an even bigger brand. you. the kind of girl that battled heartache in the spotlight."

you could hear the smile in his cashmere words, "and won."

this situation seemed too good. how would all of that fall in your favour? god is never that kind. never to you, atleast.

"and what does roronoa gain from this? did nami-swan tell you anything about that?" you stood up, waving goodbye to robin and vivi and picking up your duffel bag. as you walked through the hallway, your voice echoed and came to you, "sure as fuck, he's not walking away from this situation without winning something himself, right?"

"who knows?" sanji laughed, "that's upto that moss-head and that ever-radiant goddess—" sanji cleared his throat, "uh— for nami-swan to figure out. not you. i'm focused on you, love."

you sighed as you pushed the glass door to the practice complex open. stepping out, the night air felt cool against your sweat-covered neck and back. as you walked to your car, you caught sight of a certain man. why.

"he's here." you spoke into the phone, a slight panic building up in your bones as you deliberately slowed down, "why is he here?"

"roronoa?" sanji asked, and a certain twinge in his voice made your stomach coil inwards, "good luck, love."

"wait sanj—" beep. he cut the call. that bastard. men cannot be trusted, after all.

"hey there." his voice was akin to nails on chalkboard.

why. why was roronoa zoro here?! standing outside your practice court, in front of your car, pretending to be your boyfriend. with a relaxed grin on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands, at that too!

you gaze danced around, trying to spot paparazzi in your peripheral vision as you walked up to your car. but the parking seemed empty, and part of you wondered if roronoa zoro just enjoyed annoying the shit out of you. possibly.

as you reached him, the man wrapped his free arm around you, his voice next to your ear, "there's paps here, just play along."

you pulled back, your features twisted into a frown, "i cannot see anyone."

he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and you recoiled back instinctively, muttering out a feeble, "'m sweaty, don't do that."

"i've seen you worse."

the fuck does that mean? he wants to throw hands in this parking lot, huh? is that it? you can take him, though. ofc.

but before you could battle it out, he craned his neck, trying to scan for the paps that he was so sure were around. his eyes fixated on a certain car, and he slowly nodded in that direction, "found 'em. see."

you turned back slowly, only to find out two guys — some twenty years or so — with a camera out, pretending to be nonchalant. as if being out on a random sports complex at ten in the night was normal behaviour.

your mouth went sour, but you dragged your gaze up at zoro anyways. being under observation, your fingers reached for his and you interlocked them. your words though? just plain cruel. "fine." you huffed out, "get in the car, roronoa."

"of course," he shoved the bouquet towards you, "for you, by the way."

you grabbed the bunch of flowers recklessly, having no regard for them, "nami-swan gave them to you?"

"swan?" his eyebrows furrowed as you walked to the drivers side, "nami, yes. swan, no."

you unlocked the car, throwing the duffel to the backseat and getting in. zoro followed suit, getting in the passenger seat. you turned on the engine wordlessly and within a few minutes you were driving the car out of the parking complex.

"do you—"

"no." you pressed the touchscreen, trying to put on your playlist to avoid talking to him, "we don't need to talk. just sit."

he leaned back into the passengers seat, huffing out a soft, "'was jus' asking if you ate or not, woman." he shrugged, "i didn't, so, we could go get some—"

"—don't care. and what i do is none of your concern." the street lights painted the barren, concrete roads a subtle orange. the moon hung low in the night sky, and you pressed the accelerator harder.

"it kinda is. we're dating." a self-satisfying grin made to his lips at the mention of the word. his arms came up to rest behind his head, and he looked at you sideways.

your foot pressed down at the accelerator impossibly harder, hands gripping for dear life onto the steering wheel, eyes narrowing at the road as. you grit out, "not your girlfriend. not dating."

he laughed anyways, finding some amusement in your misery, "you're no fun."

"die, roronoa."

"we both might with the way you're driving." he looked out the window, the city outside a mere blur of lights as you cruised down the empty highways to make it back to his home.

"why am i even living at your place, still?" you mumbled into the steering wheel, slowing down begrudgingly. and he replied back coolly, "cause dad likes you more than he likes me."

"hah!" a grin made to your lips. you looked over at him for a microsecond, and looked away immediately lest he looked back at you, "so glad we both finally agree about something."

"yeah." roronoa zoro breathed out slowly, staring at the way the overhead orange lights casted shadows across your pretty face. your hair was pulled back into a messy bun, pretty eyes on the road, and flushed face breaking his heart for the nth time.

flushed face, huh? he cleared his throat, eyes drifting down to his lap, "d- d'you wanna like talk about that... night?"

he didn't miss the way your hands clutched the steering wheels tighter, and a furious blush blossomed across your face as you stuttered out, "no! there's no-nothing to discuss."

he looked away from you, eyes zeroing on the flickering lights of towering skyscrapers far away, "see, 'nother thing we agree on."

but the blush on your face refused to die down, so you just choked out a soft, "shut up, roronoa."

a smile tugged at his lips at your crumbling words, "yes ma'am."

"and stop calling me ma'am!"

10:34 p.m.

"ah, you're back. how wonderful." mihawk's eyes stayed trained on the news on the screen, a glass of wine in his hands. monotonously, he asked, "how are the lovebirds doing?"

"hungry—"

"— not lovebirds."

all three of you looked at the flatscreen, as the anchor flashed a staged photo of you two holding hands with a mischievous glint in her eyes. mihawk sipped down the burgundy liquid, "seems like you are lovebirds to the media."

"shouldn't seem the same to you, sir."

zoro shrugged, picking up an apple that was kept neatly in the fruits basket on the table. he tossed the glossy red from one palm to the other, "yeah, yeah. the 'not lovebirds' are very hungry, though. can we eat something?"

"i'm gonna shower, then eat." you hitched the duffel higher on your shoulder, walking towards your room, "catch you guys later. don't wait for me."

you dropped the duffel down at the door, collapsing on the soft mattress and the familiar scent of the duvet greeted you immediately. a unladylike groan made past your lips as you stretched your limbs and fell slack on the mattress again.

the women's singles was three months away. technically, you could relax for a few days. technically. but after winning the champion's cup, all eyes were on you. and failing wasn't an option. especially not since if you did reach the finals, it would probably be against boa hancock again. and if you lost? that would crush you and your ego to smithereens.

you sighed into the soft covers, turning your head to look at the bedside table to find the same white plastic that was given to you a few weeks back. the pack of beer remained untouched inside. thinking of the interaction with a certain someone, you dug your cheeks harder against the covers to fight off the warmth spreading all over.

get a grip. you hate him.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

28th of august,
11:28 p.m.

knock knock knock.

you stood outside to zoro's door, hands fisted around the carton and feet shuffling over the hardwood floors as you awaited his appearance.

you hate him right?

"hi?" zoro looked at you, eyes immediately narrowing. his neck craned forwards, eyes experimentally looking around as if he expected someone to be lurking in the periphery. once thorough with his inspection, his gaze landed atop you. he repeated, "hey?"

then why were you standing here right now?

"uh, hi?"

"d'you like," he paused, a shiver running down his spine at the possibility of the question, "want something?"

walk away, say you knocked on the wrong door! anything!

"can i come in?" you raised the pack of beer upwards. gulping before mumbling, "i need help finishing this."

"oh?" his lips parted, eyes trained on the glass bottles, "i bought you that like a month ago, didn't drink 'em?"

"uh? no." you looked down at the pack too, "well, i was off alcohol for the season, you know."

"do not disrespect alcohol by calling beer one." he nodded at you gravely, apparently growing serious about the drinks he consumed, and their status.

"okay?" your nose scrunched up, "looks like it is a topic or great importance to you."

"it is. alcoholism is in my blood." atleast hes self aware about him and his dad's habits? that's good. we love a self aware king.

well, no, we don't love him!

your eyes widened at the sudden realization, and your mouth ran it's course trying to cause damage in another sphere of life, "you're adopted, though?"

he stared at you a second, growing unsure of your own parentage and you panicked, "y-you knew that, right?"

"no!" he looked at you horrified. then the expression slipped. what a bastard.

"obviously. I'm just toying with ya." nodding, he took a step back, "come in."

roronoa zoro's room was the same kind it was five years ago. the bed never made, atleast three bottles of water at his bedside table at all given times, the door to the closet ajar and a video game switched open on his flatscreen and two bean bags perched in front of them.

but now the wall behind his bed was painted a shade or sage green, and haphazard, shaky selfies of perona with zoro winning tournaments with on a was put up (by perona, of course). other photos included him with a raven boy you recognized as monkey d. luffy. olympic-level skier. that boy could bend in ways unfathomable.

you briefly caught eye of a red-headed girl but before you could look deeper, zoro crashed on one of the bean bags, helplessly floundering as the furniture beneath him changed shape. he looked back at where you stood, "wanna play?"

"wonderful interiors." you crashed on the bean bag next to him, floundering around much the same before gritting out a, "did you dye your hair to match the walls or vice-versa?"

"very funny," he grumbled, handing you another controller, "you're just mad i pull green off well. now wanna play or what?"

1:26 a.m.

"that was fuckin' unfair," the sportsman grumbled, slumping back in his chair, "you literally tricked me."

"eh," you shrugged, bringing the second bottle to the brink of your lips. your voice reverberated against the delicate glass, "you're just mad i won."

"i am a man of honour and virtue, woman."

"and a loser. a sore loser at that." you grinned at the man, and he sulked more in return. throwing the controller to the side, he brought his third bottle to his lips, "don't you have to go sleep? got no practice tomorrow?"

and you couldn't help but ogle at his lips. he seemed to say some words, but all you could remember was the searing kisses. him again you. senseless. the kind that trailed down you body and—

it was that wretched alcohol, obviously. making you think stuff like this. fuck roronoa zoro. fuck roronoa zoro. fuck roro—

not that kind of fuck.

"—nefertari vivi, right? that's your partner." zoro nodded in approval, continuing with regard of what kind of battles were being waged in the labyrinths of your mind. "dad said she's climbing the ranks pretty soon. could be a real help in winning against boa this year."

he paused, awaiting a reply and your daze shattered as you met his eyes. the fucking alcohol. "yeah. uh, vivi's really good. very quick on her feet too. she's good."

"yeah," he cleared his throat, "so, no practice tomorrow?"

"no, it's a rest day." you gulped down the rest of the liquid, "what about you? decided who's gonna be your next coach?"

"dad says he wants to hand me over to shanks."

"red-haired shanks?! oh my god!" your body moved before your brain and you turned towards the man you had loved once. body angled forward, way too close.

and roronoa zoro forgot how to breath. you were so pretty. fuck you. fuck you. fuck yo—

fuck you in the exact way he was thinking.

and maybe you could hear his thoughts or see the resolve in his eyes because you pulled back. tucking your hair behind and fidgeting with your fingers, you gave him an awkward smile, "i mean he's just a legend. so, it's huge that you get to... be his student."

"nothing's set in stone." the man continued to stare at your lips, head tilted towards you expectantly, "i mean, dad isn't fond of him. says he's a pain. but, uh... like you said, he's good. plus i know him. he's basically luffy's dad with how often luffy crashes at his house."

you hummed, eyes shying away from him, "that's nice."

he hummed back, eyes zeroing on you, "'spose it is."

you don't know who or what to blame for what happened next.

the alcohol? zoro, for the way his fingers softly touched your cheek? yourself, for the way you leaned forward and caught his bottom lip against yours?

his hands manhandled you, picking you off of your bean bag and onto his lap. the ever-changing furniture dipped further against your weight. your hands in his hair, his under your shirt, kissing each other fucking senseless.

"roron-" you tried to start, but he didn't give you an opening. slotting his tongue against yours, the man tried to gulp every inch of you down. his hands moved up and down your back, expert fingers playing with the clasp of your bra. and he pulled back, heaving as he met your gaze, "off."

"no—" you threw your head back, a flurry of kisses against your neck and collarbone. your consciousness slipping past you with each graze of his lips against your naked skin, "z-zoro, we shouldn't."

"but this means nothing," he mumbled against your soft skin, "nothing at all, i promise."

and you found yourself deliriously nodding, helping him make up the candied lies, "and we are pretending to date. yeah? this is normal."

he took off your tshirt, hands coming up to play with your tits through your bra. nodding, he squeezed them, "yeah. yeah, it is, pretty."

"mhm, okay." your pelvis shifted over his, trying to gain friction through the layers of separation. he kissed you again, and you whimpered as he undid your bra and threw it off of you.

his thumb and forefinger rolled the perky nipple between them, his thoughts running off with reckless fantasies as you moaned in his mouth, "—ngh, z-zoro."

his hands lifted your hips, lips never once stilling against you. then, he pulled you down such that you could feel his erection against your core. you moved in tandem to his wild, untamed thrusts. lips parting open to moan out his name when—

"—zoro." a stern voice from outside, and you both froze, still tangled within each other.

shit, shit, shit.

"zoro, can you hear me?" mihawk called out once again, and you scrambled off of the sportsman to go put on your tshirt. zoro yelled back, panicked, "'m playing, gi-gimme a second, dad."

and you caught the man trying to adjust his pants to hide the erection as he got up with jelly for legs. he gave you a once-over, decided you looked decent enough, told you to hide behind the door and scrambled to open the said door.

hiding his lower torso behind the door, zoro gave mihawk the best look of nonchalance he could muster, "uh, yes. what's up, father?"

mihawk stood with an old-fashioned candelabra in his hands. a stoic expression on his face... and a vampire themed night-suit. checks out, yeah. his gaze pierced zoro, "she's not in her room, is she with you?"

"n-" zoro tried to lie, but mihawk glared at his son harder. and zoro crumbled like he was sixteen again, "yes. but we were just playing video games."

"hm? have you seen the time?" the former coach called out your name, and you slid forth from where you were hiding. a meek, "yes, sir?"

"why are you here? don't you have practice tomorrow?"

"n-no, sir." you looked downwards, crumbling like you were sixteen yourself. trying to hope he wouldn't notice zoro's and yours disheveled hair and clothes, you choked out a short, "rest day, sir."

"rest day, is it?" his eyes looked vampirish under the light from the candles, "rest days are meant for resting. not for goofing off."

mihawk stared the two of you down one last time before turning away and treading through the darkened hallways with only his candelabra to hold close. he didn't bother turning to look at you, but his voice was stern, "back to your room, now."

"yes, sir. sorry, sir." you nodded, moving past zoro and walking behind him. but a strong grip on your wrist made you look back. you turned back, confused and zoro — practically shrouded in darkness —pressed a chaste kiss to your nose, "g'night."

before you could look at him and question his intentions, he murmured, "just pretending. sorry."

mihawk yelled over his shoulder, "GET MOVING, YOU TWO."

"SORRY, SIR."

as you walked away from the mosshead, your fingers rested over your nose gingerly, as if you could feel him there still.

you two were going to ruin each other.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

31st of august,
12:25 p.m.

and ruin he did.

his index finger travelled over the dip of your waist, travelling down, down, down till it stilled over the waistband of your shorts. he dragged the cloth downwards, exposing the naked skin to his hungry hands.

you were gonna be his untimely death.

continuing to knead at your slightly exposed hips, his lips slotted against yours feverishly. pressing himself against your back, he built you up only to ruin with his own lips. he pulled you face backwards, closer against him, as his ravished self drank down any defiant moan that escaped you.

"z-zoro." you whispered softly, the words disappearing down the tangled sheets between you. he hummed back just as softly, one hand now disappearing under your t-shirt to harshly tug on your nipple and another came to run a light finger over your drenched slit.

"aah ah zo—" you moaned you as he continued moving his fingers up and down. up and down. up and down. till his finger came to still over your puffy clit, and he rubbed slow circles onto it.

the two of you were in your bed, the lights off as you navigated each other with uncanny ease. he was snug behind you, his erection digging into your thigh as he toyed with you and kissed you down like a man set to ruin you.

his left hand alternated between softly pressing down your tits, to harshly tugging and rolling your nipples in a way that had you barely breathing against his kiss-bitten, reddened lips. all while he right toyed with your clit, dragged sloppily to tease your hole before toying with the trembling nub.

you felt yourself growing stupid, turning into jelly and trying to run away from the man behind you.

"no—" he laughed softly against your skin, "don't run, you want this."

"i do-i don't." you glared back at him through whatever sanity you retained, and he cooed back. taking his fingers off of your soaked cunt, he teased, "you don't? sure?"

"zoro, come on—" you whined, but he shoved the sticky, sweet fingers past your soft lips. a command against the column of your throat, "ask nicely."

his teeth sunk down on your neck, fingers patiently sinking against your tongue, waiting for you to wilt under him. he raised his head, pulling out his wetted fingers. you looked back him, lips dripping with your sweet and spit. your eyes softened but words stayed razor-sharp, "'m not begging."

"no?" he echoed, the wet fingers sinking against your cheek to pull them into an embarrassing pout. his eyebrows furrowed, "no?"

you shook your head despite his firm grip, and he laughed. a boyish laugh, the kind set to tear you apart from within. pressing a kiss to your neck, he dragged his lips upwards to your ears, "guess i'll have to force you, hm?"

and who was roronoa zoro if not a man of his words?

thumbing your clit, his dick rammed into you again and again and again. hot breath fanning your neck, strong arm wrapped around your waist as he dragged you back to meet his ravaging, hungry movements.

you turned your face sideways, panting into the pillows as his thumb pressed down your throbbing nub, and continued to fuck into you like a maddened man.

"come on," he cooed, arm sinking further against your waist and pulling you flush against your chest. his words were tainted with strained breaths, "be nice, baby. ask me, hah- fuck. and i-i'll give you anything."

"ah wh-what?!" you yelped as he turned on his back, pulling your limp body over his chest. your sweaty back against his sculpted, toned torso and his voice ringing into your ear, hysteric almost, "c'mon, be nice, baby. say thankyou."

feet planted in the bed, hips pistoling into your gushing cunt as his fingers teased and pressed down the nub. your shaking hands pressed down against your mouth to shove back any wretched screams that threatened to tear past your pretty lips.

and the sight of trying to hold back cries made him feral. his pelvis smacked against your ass, the skin stinging with each harsh thrust of him cock into your bruised walls. the mushroom tip teased your g-spot and your toes curled as your clit suffered under his unyielding circles, "hah zoro, zo— im gunna cum, 'm cumming, cumming fuckk."

a wretched laugh underneath you as the man continued to chase his own high, fucking into your gummy walls like a man ready to lose everything just to have you. betting on his body, his soul, his sanity with the way your snug cunt milked him, pulling him into you as it throbbed so deliciously.

"zo... please—" hot tears falling past your eyes at the overstimulation as sticky hot filled your cunt to the brim. his fingers thumbed away at your clit though you trashed against him, and tried to pull away. away, away, away.

frenzied pants against the shell of your ears, hips still ramming his already-hard dick into your abused pussy with ease, "what do you want?"

"more." you babbled, eyes rolling back as he kept fucking up into you with no regard from your pulsating, aching cunt, "mo-more please, please, please."

"hah really?—" he laughed, ready to chase his high again. deranged, almost with the way he kept fucking into you. only one thing one his mind: to fuck your limp body even though his mouth grew dry, hips ached and back muscled burned.

how could he stop? just how, when your nails indented themselves against his arms and hot, fat tears fell past your eyes. and those sounds? muffled moans, heavy sighs? ah, you would kill him. and what kind of man would he be if he didn't even thank you properly by fucking you stupid?

you skin stung, waist marked red from how tight his grip was, hair sweaty and eyes rolled back as deranged moans tumbled past your lips. all words just variations of his name.

"zoro, zoro zoro hah- fuck nghh aah—" he lapped a hot stripe up your neck, tasting your salty skin as you bounced mindlessly against him and came over his aching cock. words caught in your throat and your limp body stilling against him, drowning him in such a pretty shade of white from both of your orgasms.

"shit," he mumbled, feeling the viscid liquid slowly travelling down his veiny shaft as he pulled it out. he softly let you off of him, letting you snuggle your sweaty forehead against his clothed chest. chest heaving up and down, cheeks flushed and lips reddened. his gaze trailed down your weary figure and down to your inner thighs, glistening with sticky residue of him on you.

what a fucking sight.

and zoro was just a mortal man, at the end. so how can you blame him for finding you in the middle of the night, pinning you down and fucking into you with reckless abandon for the next few nights? stealing kisses in the darkened hallways, huffing softly as your palmed him softly and straddled his hips under the pretense of "asking him for advice on the game."

"we shouldn't." you would mutter every time without fail, even as you allowed his easy access to tear off your panty and fuck you full till you were delirious and about to pass out with his name as a mantra.

"don't worry," he would always mumbled back, words honeyed against your sweet lips, "don' worry at all, pretty. this means nothing, hm?"

and you would nod along, letting him to mark you up again. he would be the death of you.

8th of september,
7:32 p.m.

and he was.

"you've been terrible lately," robin admitted seriously, "your focus is elsewhere, and you look like you haven't slept in a week."

your gaze drifted downwards, "i'm sorry, coach."

her voice was gentle and you were struck at how young she sounded. she was once your age and number one, and you were getting hung up over one boy.

she read your expression, the bitter twang of guilt in your eyes, and her delicate fingers came to rest under her chin, "don't be sorry. but get serious." she paused, "don't lose yourself over a man, it won't be worth it."

"of course, coach." you nodded, and robin dismissed you with another stern look. and as you sat in the passenger seat of zoro's sportscar, you became hyper-aware of his hand on your thigh, of his words and how casually he talked to you.

end this. now.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

11th of september,
8:03 p.m.

"ohmygod, zoro." you mumbled lowly against his lips, hands finding purchase against his crisp white shirt, "you're overdoing it."

his left arm tightened against your waist, right hand coming to hold yours against his chest, and head tilting to kiss you harder. he pulled back to look at you. your eyes shut, lipstick smudged, and manicured arms creasing, ruining his shirt. ruining him.

fuck, you were divine. and he was a man at your mercy.

the sportsman stammered out, words barely audible, "'m not. did you not get the memo?"

you had, unfortunately.

after talking to robin, you had managed to avoid zoro for quite a few days. and when you finally met his eyes over dinner, he just gave you an understanding look. no love, no brooding, no nothing! maybe, he understood this was a pr stunt, after all.

but then, sanji had called you up, bumbling with excitement, "my love!"

"sanji." you had laughed at his excitement, staring at your ceiling as you lay on your bed, "what's up?"

"okay," he had stilled, questioning his excitement, "you're gonna hate this, i think. but—"

the laugh had died in your throat, "what is it."

"so, you're invited to the get-together being held by the worldwide badminton association, how fun!" you had sat up, unamused, "okay, and? there's more, right?"

"well, roronoa zoro's invited too."

"no."

and the memo had been to take the pda up whenever necessary and convince everyone how utterly in love you two were. maddened by it, in fact.

so, now, you two were holed up in the bathroom, doing whatever this was. zoro raised his thumb to your lips, slowly cleaning the mess he had created, and you almost flinched at how careful he was being.

"you know," you drawled out slowly, letting him work the smudges, "we could have just smudged my lipstick, without actually kissing. and people would have caught on."

"hm?" he hummed, still invested in perfecting his craft. and your eyes trailed downwards to his exposed neck and chest, littered with red markings; courtesy of you. "better to be thorough. can't afford to mess it up, right?"

"right." you looked up at him, eyes stalling at his reddened lips before you turned around to look at the closed door, "ready to go outside and pretend to be in love?"

"of course."

"great." you breathed out, looking back at zoro one last time.

he was dressed in a smart navy button-down and dress slacks. and you were dressed in a matching navy, silken slip dress and dainty heels, hair styled in soft waves to match the man behind you.

he opened the door, letting you out with a million dollar smile on his face as he posed for the paps that dwelled in the crowd. you took his hand gingerly, mirroring his giddy expression as you stepped out and were blinded by the snaps of glittering lies and gossip.

the power couple emerge disheveled?! how scandlous!

the two of you mingled within the crowds, hand in hand, with promises of life and death, and stolen glances. the crowd cooed and the interviewers threw one question after the other at the two of you. zoro answered each question with a hint of smile, fingers never once leaving your waist.

"so? do you think she's the one?" an official's wife asked, chasing the question with a giddy laugh.

"of course. who else, if not her?" he answered smoothly. he turned to look at you, head dipping down ever-so-slightly. his breath warm against your neck, neat hair falling against your skin, and a breathy, "what do you think, baby?"

"i— yeah. i think he's the one. he's..." you blinked up at him, eyes widening as he smiled at you again, "perfect."

you put on a faux smile as the man nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. and, you were lead to your demise with a wicked epiphany: this man would eat away your sanity. someday, somehow. he will.

"well, isn't it a bit weird to see roronoa see smile so much?" another official asked, "he's always so stoic that this seems wrong, somehow."

"well, i'm not smiling at you. am i, oldy?" as if to prove his point, the sportsman pressed his lips into a thin line.

"hah, ever the charming gentleman." the man laughed, trying to mask the disrespect under layers of jokes. you laughed along, clutching zoro's bicep in an last-ditch effort to save the mosshead's reputation, "well, you know how his humor is."

what a fucking headache this man was.

12:12 a.m.

"ugh." you groaned as soon as your back hit the leather seat of zoro's car. getting comfortable, you muttered a low, "thank god that shit's over."

your nimble fingers came to tear off the heavy, rented diamond earrings off of your ears. your feet ached, your head ached and as you caught the sight of zoro adjusting his seat, your heart ached.

he was pretty under the dim light. shit.

"you good?" he leaned over you, muscled arm tugging the seat-belt and strapping you in, "do your feet hurt? i can take off your heels for you, if you wa—"

"no." you looked away from him, heart pumping at the close proximity, "i'm fine."

"ah, okay then. suit yourself." he pulled back, and put his seat-belt on. the mosshead changed gears and soon enough, you were cruising down ghostly roads.

why was he acting like you two were together? it nauseated you. made your head spin. made you feel stupid, seventeen and like you'd fall right back into the death trap that was roronoa zoro.

you both sat in silence, and the moon hung low, the stars twinkling in the night sky like forbidden jewels. all was good, all was great. till you decided to ruin whatever ounce of peace remained between the two of you. your fingers turned down the volume of the song blaring in the background, till all that remained was venomous silence and you and him, and him and you.

"roronoa."

he hummed to signal he was listening.

you drew in a strained breath, you're not my boyfriend, and you will never be. not even in the future." your icy words the only sound in the car, "i hope you understand that."

roronoa zoro looked at you, and then replied slowly, "yes, i do."

"this is just a publicity stunt," you declared, "and once this shit is over, i am gonna walk away and never see your face again."

the car made it's way down a deserted road, "yes, i know that too."

your eyes narrowed at his simple answers but you kept gawking at the road ahead, "you don't act like you know it, though."

he grew silent, and you waited for his response. moments passed you by in uncomfortable silence but then, finally, "i was told to pretend i love you, and i am doing what i was told."

"when have you been the one to follow rules?"

the man sighed, "do i need to have an excuse to love you?"

"love me?" you scoffed, "i am sorry for fighting old battles, but you left me."

his knuckles grew white and he pressed the breaks. the car jolted abruptly before being parked at one side. a beat passed, then another, and another. then, "i was seventeen."

"that's the problem." you undid your seatbelt, eyes trained ahead, "i am not angry that you chose your fucking career over me. good for you, you're at number one! huzzah! but you left. just like that."

"i am sorry." he looked straight ahead too, voice tainted with guilt, "i truly am sorry—"

"sorry wouldn't fix shit, would it?" still not meeting each other's eyes. cowards. both of you. "all i wanted was a phone-call, maybe a fucking email. fax, maybe? anything. anything to tell me where you went. that you were fucking sorry, and that this was for the best."

"i kno—"

"—doesn't seem like you do, zoro." you spat out, words turning vile at the tip of your tongue, "you just fucking ran."

"believe me, it wasn't selfish." his voice was low, the kind that reverberated against the metallic car frame and came back to you. you replied back easily, "it wasn't selfless either."

and you two fell into silence once again. your head spun, words stuck in your throats. accusations, grievances, foul words.

you paid it no mind and your fingers softly unlocked the car door. you stepped out, walking away from the expensive car. and as the night air hit you, you were acutely reminded of just how stupid the situation was. you, still clinging onto a heartbreak from five years ago. honestly, you should swallow down that bitter pill and forget it.

but how could you forget it? how? when the subject of your heartbreak was calling out your name, slamming his side of the door as he chased after you, as if afraid to lose you once more.

his calloused fingers grabbed ahold of your wrist, "wh-where are you going?"

"nowhere," you didn't bother to turn around to see his face. your voice, or whatever words you spewed forth were monotone, devoid of anything human, "just wanted some fresh air, roronoa. go, sit in the car. i'll be back in two minutes."

"don't do this." zoro tugged your wrist backwards, trying to turn your body to face his, to atleast dignify him with a look as you broke his heart.

"don't do what?" you stilled, unmoving as he tugged you back delicately. "i told you that i will be back—"

"d-don't leave." his voice cracked uncharacteristically, "i— if you're angry at me, hit me. curse me. shoot me. do whatever you please with my heart, but look at me. don't turn your back on me."

under the moonlight, it seemed like you were cruel. because you remained unmoving as hot tears pricked at your lash line and your nose grew warmer, "when have i been the one to turn my back on you, zo?"

he flinched at the nickname. his voice was desperate, words limited to calling out your name over and over again. he stepped closer, warm breath on your goosebump-ish skin, desperate, "don't leave, please. please. i fu— i fucked up, i know."

"—no calls, no texts, nothing. you're a phantom and i'm the fucking idiot waiting around on you for a whole year." your voice stayed the same, wretched, monotonous tone. as if he wasn't even here and you were just confessing your heartaches to the night sky, "you know, on my eighteenth birthday, my parents asked me to blow out a candle and wish for something. and i wished for you. that you came back. how fucking stupid."

"i'm sorry, please."

but you were a woman anguished, so you continued, "and maybe some deity heard me. because i saw you again. after a year, i saw you at an event by the worldwide badminton association. but then, whenever you saw me again, you avoided me like the fucking plague for the next five years."

"i thought i was saving you," his voice sunk past your flesh and deep into your bones, "i thought i was saving both of us the heartbreak becaus-because i loved you."

and then you felt it. wayward droplets on water falling on wrist as his head hung low. zoro's voice shook, interwoven with slow drags of breath that barely held the stoic man behind you together, "i wanted to save you the heartbreak cause i love you."

he called out your name again, his calloused fingers digging against the silken cloth as if you would run away. words only growing heavier as tear after tear fell down his face, "i know i was so stupid. it was... it was selfish, and stupid—"

"realized so soon?" tears welled in your eyes, body struggling against his hold, "you know, after you left town, i got better at this wretched game for you. so that someday.... some fucking day, i would be on your fucking level. then, i'd look you in the eyes and tell you to fuck off. say it with my all of my fucking chest."

you turned around, letting his touch scorch your skin, desperate pangs of breath be the only indication either one of you was alive. you slowly brought a hand up to his face. his bloodshot eyes met yours, lips trembling. you looked like he just stabbed you in the heart. "but now, i'm here. and you're here. and i just wanna ask. i— did i mean nothing to you, zo?"

and with that, roronoa zoro lost all sanity.

"'m sorry. im sorry, im sorry, im s-sorry—" heavy tears fell down his face, as did he; crumbling down, and only being held up by your support. he sobbed against your skin, tears falling and tainting your skin as he chanted apologies against your skin.

and mindlessly, almost like you were built for the sole purpose of holding him against your mortal body, your hands raked through his hair and he held you tighter.

he collected himself, lifting his gaze just to disintegrate at your tear-stained face all over again, "i-i thought it would hurt less if i said nothing, and you would think of it as a bad breakup... and move on. you would forget me, and i, you. but i couldn't."

bottom lip trembling, he found his forehead against yours, hand on your cheek, "i fucking couldn't. day and night, all i could think of was you."

your breath heaved pathetically. body, mind and soul almost giving into the alchemy that was this man. but you shut your eyes, words cut-throat, "and that makes this suffering worth it?"

"i dunno," he shook his head softly, eyes clenched shut, "i dunno anything at all. b-but i know i love you, i do. and i've hurt you but—" he stepped back, eyes begging, "i'd make it up to you. i promise. give me a chance, and i—"

a chance? a fucking chance? after five years of avoiding you, two months of pretending like you were nothing more than a doubles partner, he wanted a chance? hah, funny.

"zoro." your body grew stiff under him, eyes boring into his bloodshot ones without any lingering emotion, "we should go home, it's getting cold. i said what i had to say, and you heard it all."

"hey, hey—" his hands fell on your shoulders, as his voice shook, "please, i will fix—"

"—let's go home, zoro. please."

you drove home in silence. and when you both made it back home, mihawk didn't ask any questions about your bloodshot eyes, or about the way zoro disappeared in his room without even a word.

and then, you stopped talking to roronoa zoro.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

28th of september,
9:01 a.m.

it had been almost three weeks since you confronted zoro.

and in those three weeks you had lost count of how many times the mosshead came to your door, knocked, and left before saying anything at all. you had lost count of how many times he showed up outside your practice court, gave you a posed kiss for any paps around, and then drove you back home in silence with your old favourite songs in the background. you had lost count of how many times he left cup noodles, chocolates, and whatever else he could find at your door wordlessly, and how many times you found his asleep at your door.

it was all in vain, though. you were done with him.

no matter how much you wanted to stop him, and talk to him when he came knocking. no matter how much you wanted to smile at him when he came to pick you up. how much you wanted to talk to him about your practice, and to ask for his feedback. no matter how hungry you felt, how desolate you felt for his words, for his skimming touches. you refused to give in. you turned roronoa zoro down, always.

if you allowed him in, you would be rendered useless. battling heartache again for the nth time, wouldn't you?

"so, this is it?" you asked slowly, and your mouth grew dry despite the bottle of beer in your hands, "we're done?"

"yes!" sanji clapped his hands. his voice was clear through the speaker, "we're nearing the end. aren't you glad? you would never have to see that mosshead again!"

"r-right." you swallowed, "that is good. that is what i want."

you sounded unconvinced to your own ears, god knows what sanji was making out of your words? as if echoing your thoughts, your manager stilled. he blew out smoke before wondering out loud, "do you want to continue this further? if that is indeed the case then—"

"no." you replied firmly, cutting the blonde off. "just give me the details of when to end this, and how. fucking end this."

"well... if you say so." he continued, "your doubles championship is two weeks away."

you nodded consciously as your mind drifted to boa hancock and the possibility of losing all over again. sanji inhaled smoke like it was second nature to him, and then spoke again, "in three days, we leak that you and roronoa are done for." sanji grinned, a businessman at his very core. "but then you two make a public appearance to prove the rumors wrong. a week and half later, you win the tournament, and we confirm you've both broken up. and just like that, you're a sensation, love!"

"that's it?"

"that's it! and anytime, anyone asks you about him? you just say you don't wanna talk about it." sanji paused, "sounds good to you?"

"from what i understand, i just need to focus on the tournament and you'd handle the rest?"

"of course, darling."

"okay, then." you inhaled slowly, "just two more weeks."

"just two more."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

13th of october,
10:03 a.m.

this was bad. this was bad. this was bad.

you tried to stabilize your breathing before you went down spiraling and took your team with you. your eyes darted to the blue-haired girl next to you. vivi. her skin gimmered and glittered as if she was royalty by blood, and she glanced back at you to give you a re-assuring smile.

in the court front of you stood boa hancock and her sister, boa marigold. both of them stood, unphased. not a wayward sweat-drop nor strained breaths. and it dawned on you for the third time that these women were in a league apart from you, as if separated by DNA itself.

your 16 points to rival their 20 points. you were losing the finals. badly, at that.

"what do we do?" vivi whispered to you, and you found the resolve weakening in her eyes. and you were acutely reminded that this was the blue-haired girl's first doubles tournament. you gave her a reassuring smile, "try to play defensive for a bit. they are trying to wear us down with constant attacks, and all we can do is try not to fall into their trap."

"conserve our energy for now, right?" vivi nodded, taking her position back in court.

your eyes ran over the crowd once more in hopes for a recognizable mosshead but you found no trace of him. well, that made sense. he wasn't supposed to come show today since the two of you "broke up."

you sighed, and your brows furrowed as you focused on the game. that bastard be damned.

but shot after shot after shot, the conclusion remained the same. the two sisters inched closer to victory as they bagged another point. all while you and vivi tried to cling onto the delusions of winning the tournament. and then—

fwoosh.

the shuttle made it past your ear with a soft wheeze, and your eyes trained on boa hancock watched the woman crack a wicked smile. her sister clung onto the older raven-head and you found yourself stuck, frozen, unmoving as vivi cried out in defeat and fell to her knees.

you lost. again. how fucking pathetic.

an impossibly heavy weight fell atop your chest, throat closing up as tears rushed to your eyes. but you blinked them away, instead choosing to pick vivi up and wish the boa sisters congratulations.

you lost. oh well. always the idiot that stayed, never the star player, right?

1:03 p.m.

you felt like your mouth was full of tar, throat closing up as the news reporters and interviewers peered you and your partner down.

"this is the third major tournament you've lost against boa hancock," the interviewer pushed his spectacles up, "do you think you'd ever be able to catch upto her?"

"well," you smiled, "she's number one for a reason. and this just goes on to show that i have so much learn to—" your gaze ran through the media people that sat in front of you and it felt like all of them were scrutinizing you under their hawk-like gazes.

you gulped, smiling harder, "i have to learn so much yet. and i wish, i do wish to get better. of course. but i have nothing but utter respect for the boa sisters."

"are you and zoro actually done for?" another voice asked, and you tried avoiding to look at the source. if you could ignore the question, then it'll be like it wasn't even there. but more voices piled on. more, more, more. till you felt like zoro's name was everywhere.. all-consuming. and your hands shook as you tried to sip down water.

but vivi came to your rescue. her polite tone turning vile as she leaned forward into her mic, "i would implore you to ask relevant questions only. i admire roronoa zoro, but he has nothing to do with our match."

"so, this means you and zoro are done for? but what was the reason?" the voices tried to dissect a relationship that didn't exist, "did he realize he couldn't be with someone beneath him? as his title as the number one, did you threaten his legac—"

"shut up. shut the fuck up." your voice was soft against the mic, eyes malicious, "this is enough. thank you."

and you found yourself dragging your chair backwards and walking away from the panel you and vivi were sat on. your guards behind you and vivi as you walked down the wretched hallways. the blue-haired trailed after you, her tone worried, "hey, are you okay? they're assholes, ignore them. hey—"

but you couldn't hear anything.

a low buzzing in your head, and your body felt like jelly as tears threatened to fall again. something sharp in your chest dug itself deeper and deeper till it made a home in your bones. and the overhead lighting of the halls felt too bright as you walked away from the stadium and to your car. and next you knew, you stood at the reception to the hotel. mindlessly collecting your key and walking over to the elevator, you felt nothing.

you felt nothing as you had entered the hotel lobby and the dizzying smell of expensive perfumes permeated your figure. you felt nothing as you passed the expensive marble halls to reach the elevator. in fact, you felt nothing as the metallic box creaked slowly and you reached the fifth floor.

but... did you feel nothing as you stepped out the elevator, took slow steps and lifted your head up just to find roronoa zoro standing at your door?

you halted and he looked at you before pursing his lips, as if unable to say anything at all.

and you shared the same sentiments. so, you just nodded at him. not even bothering to ask why he was here, how he was where? why? you simply walked upto him, swiped the key-card and stepped in, allowing the mosshead to step in after you.

"you're not supposed to be here." you admitted, locking the door. giving him a brief look over your shoulder, "we're done pretending."

"i'm aware."

you hummed, walking past him and collapsing at the edge of the bed. your nimble fingers moved downwards to your shoes as you began to undo the laces. but calloused fingers stopped yours, as zoro kneeled down to peel the shoes off your aching feet.

"you don't have to." you tried to reason but his head was tilted downwards, avoiding your piercing gaze, "i know."

you sighed, "i'm tired, zoro."

he moved the white shoes to the side, "let me run you a bath."

your palms fell flat against the soft mattress, voice tethering on the edge of unraveling, "i didn't know you were here. you weren't in the audience in the stadium."

"i was." he looked up, eyes softening at your downcast features, "i- jus' thought we were done pretending, so, didn't try to make a show of it."

"that's nice of you," you replied back softly, head tipped back to stare at the spotless ceiling. but the man cut you off, "you did good."

the crisp linen under the palms fisted involuntarily, your lips pressing into a thin line, "you don't need to flatter me."

"'m not." he stayed kneeling, tender gaze against your weary body. he repeated, "you did good."

lips trembling, eyes clenched shut, and throat closing up all over again, "i did not. i lost."

"stop saying it like that." he repeated, slowly getting up. and your bloodshot eyes met his as your body slumped forward. hands still digging into the flimsy linen, you stared up at him, "it's the fuckin' t-truth. i lost."

his careful touch lingered on your cheek, "you did more than enough. good job."

and everything inside you melted at his foolhardy touches, sobs racking through your body as he wrapped his arms around your and you clenched his t-shirt instead of those unfamiliar sheets. fuck. fuck. fuck. your tears wetted his shirt as you body shook against his familiar touches.

his heavy body grounded you, the familiar scent engulfing you as your world as you knew it crumbled around you. desperate, desolate, pangs of air hit his abdomen as you tried to catch your breath. only to fail, and break out in a sob, "—an' i tried. i did."

he stayed shut, allowing laments to drop down your words and land against his skin. your fisted hands landed against him weakly, striking over and over again, "fuck you. asshole." you breathed heavily before your voice grew weaker, "fuck you."

"'m sorry." he caught your hands slowly and held them still against his chest. you could feel the faint thrumming of his heart. thump, thump, thump. the same heart that so desperately tried to get you to love him again. but when had you ever stopping the man above you?

his calloused palms pressed against yours as you dragged your eyes up at him, and your breath got caught against the tangible threads of your lucidity.

roronoa zoro looked at you like you were his god.

he kneeled, meeting you on your eye-level. his hands pulled yours upwards, and he pressed another chaste kiss to the back of your palm.

and all of a sudden you were reminded of being sixteen, sitting on his old house's roof under the night sky, and asking him, "zo, why do you always kiss my hands?"

"because i'm a weirdo." he huffed out, and you grinned in return, "is perona's emo rubbing off on you. first the hair dye, and now this?"

his eyes widened, the sudden realization sneaking up on him like a viper, "no!" and he broke into a furious blush on that random autumn night.

"tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me~" you rubbed your body against his arm and he shivered under your touch. finally yielding to you, as he always did, he sighed. when he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, "as... as a sportsman, my hands are all i have. and you're all i have."

and now the same man mumbled against your mortal flesh, promising ruins and riches in the same breath, "you can hit me, curse me, do whatever you want. just let me stay."

"how can i? it hurts."

and it did. all of it. your head, your legs, your chest, your heart. delicate hands trying to break free from him, tears spewing forth again and again and again till you met his eyes, heaving. expecting him to look at you with disdain, and finally giving up.

but his eyes was warm, hands soft against your skin, words honeyed, "then let me make it better." he came upwards, and his thumb swiped at the fallen tears, "let me try. one last time."

the resolve in his voice hardened, "give me one month. i'll win you back."

one month?

Chapter 3: AITA for going back to my ex?

Summary:

getting your heart broken when you were seventeen was inevitable, getting it broken on camera seven years later was also inevitable, it seems. but letting your ex back into your life with the glittering promises of "i'll win you back in a month?" was getting your heart broken again and again and again also inevitable?
most importantly: was roronoa zoro worth your sanity?

warnings: dumb people, even dumber plot by me!
includes angst towards the end, zoro is an idiot trying his best to win you over! cameos by nami, sanji, perona and mihawk because i love writing them tysm. and obviously smut (hehe u nasty).
nsfw thoughts include: feral!zoro. this man is nasty, he likes blood, sweat and tears. a lot of overstimulation, a little bit of bimbofication, hints of dub!con, car-sex, penetration, teasing, dirty talk, a little bit of feral!zor. OKAY THAT'S IT!!
MINORS DNI OR I WILL HUNT YOU!
wc: 10.6k

17th of october
11:43 p.m.

"really?" and you could hear sanji drop his precious cigarette onto the ground in pure, unaltered shock, "are you toying with me right now, love?"

"no." you replied firmly, nimble fingers getting caught against familiar, green locks as roronoa zoro pressed honeyed lips to your stomach. he trailed downwards, uncaring as your manager spluttered on the speaker.

"you are actually dating that green-haired freak?" from his tone alone, you could imagine sanji to look wide-eyed and tongue-tied. meeting the eyes of the said “green haired freak”, you found a sour expression plastered to his handsome features.

"no... well, not yet.” you swiped your fingers against his scalp, manicured fingers softly scratching the frown on his face away, “we're on a one-month trial phase."

"are you and him a netflix subscription, mon amore? what do you mean one month?" the blonde hissed. but you were far too gone, too warped within the feeling of the athlete’s soft kisses on your hiked-up thighs to even offer a hairsbreadth of attention to your critic.

"well–" as the sportsman hands trailed over your thighs all-too-intimately, you found yourself sighing blissfully, "he said he wants a month to win me back.”

“that is insane.”

“maybe. but his time starts today, so, we have until 17th of november to come to some sort of conclusion." zoro didn’t dare still against your soft skin. kneading the fat of your hips, pressing hot kisses to thighs and nipping at fading bruises to renew them. but you tightened your grip on his locks, tipping his head backwards as you pulled on them. glaring at him, you breathed out a warning, “either he cleans his act up, or i leave him in the dust."

but who was roronoa zoro if not the man made to get on your nerves?

his mouth fell agape as his eyes met yours, and a soft moan tumbling past him at the sharp sting of your pull. that wayward moan soon turned into a grunt as the sportsman toyed with the band of your shorts.

“stop that.” you whispered, eyes growing wide as the blonde on the other end of the speaker continued his distressed rants.

"and what do i do about it?!" for the first time in the five years vinsmoke sanji had been your manager, you heard his voice shake in panic, "you two just broke up! in front of the cameras! like a week ago!"

"it's fine, sanji. people get together all the time—"

"—not if they're olympic level athletes!"

"hey, you have no idea how much shit goes down in the olympic village." you shrugged, "last time 160k condoms were given out, and people flew threw them like it was nothing. there’s lots of crying. and fucking too, actually. sometimes both, now that i think about it."

“rabid monsters.”

“don’t be jealous. athletes just have a lot of stamina.” while you were busy rolling your eyes at the blonde and his dramatic antics, zoro climbed back up over you. a smirk on his lips, flashing you his canines, and mouthing “really? stamina?”

clad in a fitted, black tank top, your eyes drifted down to his arms and chest. shamelessly staring at the muscles flexing and unflexing under the flimsy material, you brought your free hand to run wild against his bicep. finding his index under your jaw, he tilted your face up to meet his eyes again. you smiled up at him without much thought and his heart stuttered out in the rhythm of his shallow breaths. fuck you for being so pretty.

before you could nod and ask what he wanted, he pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. next, he sunk his face in the crook of your neck. you felt the nip of his sharp canines against your sensitive pulse. but that sly bastard. all of that was to distract you from the way he dipped his hand under your shorts and pulled your panties aside.

“zo–“ you started slowly, but it was all in vain. the man above you was on a mission. and that mission was apparently to get your own manager to report you as a sex offender or something?! atleast that’s what it felt like from the way he rubbed his thumb against your sensitive clit.

“either ways.” your manager huffed, ignoring the way your breath hitched at the new bruises against your neck and the stuttering swipes of his thumb against your folds, “this is still insane.”

"weren’t–” you gulped, trying to keep your voice steady, “you were the one saying that my job is to playand yours’ to take care of such things, so, do that.”

“and i can! i can fix it.” you heard a thud ring through the speaker and imagined that the blonde had fallen back onto his back helplessly, “but i need time to fix this. gotta talk to nami-san, and then i will need to fix the narrative using the media. i need time.”

barely raising his lips off of your narcotic skin – with a flushed face and husky voice – zoro replied coolly, “don’t worry, nami’s on our side with this one.”

“HUH?! WHO WAS THAT?”

pinching the taut skin of the athlete’s bicep as a warning to stay shut, your tone stayed sickly sweet, “who? ‘twas the wind, sanji.”

“don’t try to sway me with your use of ‘twas.” he hissed like a wet cat, “is that mosshead here right now? is he in your room right now?!”

“and if you’re worried about the paps, roronoa will buy them out, you know?” as if to protest against your suggestion, zoro flicked his thumb faster against your swollen nub. you glared at him. “a-and if you’re worried someone will see us, they won’t. we won’t go public with it.”

“none of those suave answers.” sanji firmly stated, “answer what I asked first. is he there right now?”

you whistled a soft, “dunno what you’re talking about…” before drawing your phone away from your face, “because that’s blasphemous!!” purposefully covering the speaker with your palm, “hey, hey? sanji- hello? can’t hear… hear you right now. hello?”

you heard a muffled, “DON’T YOU DARE PULL THAT ON ME OR SO GOD HELP ME–“

“still can’t hear you.” your thumb hovered over the red button, “g’night, sanji!”

beep.

“i’m paying for the paps?”

trying to push his weight off of your relatively smaller frame, you huffed out, “c-can’t you stay shut when i ask you to, roronoa?”

in retaliation, he pressed more of his body weight onto you. snuggling his face into your crook and inhaling your scent like a man crazed, his fingers kept toying against you like it was as easy as breathing.

you tried to push him off again, gritting out, “do you think a good dick is enough of a reason to come back? cause it is not.”

“it is one of the reasons, is it not?”

“no. is it not.” you repeated, “shut it, and find a new strategy or something.”

“fine, tsk.” and with that the sportsman got off of you. pulling his hand out of your flimsy shorts, leaving behind your aching body as he got up. standing at the door, he looked back just to delve his long fingers past his lips to suck down on your essence. smiling as he pulled out, he made his conclusion in one, swift word, “sweet.”

and you just threw a pillow at him, face flaming up at the way he just simply caught the pillow and threw it right back at you, “fuck off, roronoa.”

“hm?” he cocked his eyebrow, careful hands still not attempting to open the door and leave, “I’ll just head back to my room, then.”

you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, half to give him attitude and other half to soothe the skin that had been alit with his body over yours, “go, then. you’re the one who wandered in my room with unholy intentions.”

somebody could mistake his as the reincarnation of the devil with the way he was grinning. all unholy thoughts and malicious actions, “you’re the one still laying, waiting for me to do something.”

at his (correct) accusations, you sat up haughtily. adjusting the tank top and pulling it upwards, you found yourself glaring at the towering man for the nth time, “you’re insufferable. is this how you’re gonna win me back?”

“hey,” he shrugged, broad shoulders moving up and down with delicate ease, “worked the first time, didn’t it?”

“i was seventeen.” your eyes narrowed, “and you used to be way more handsome back then. it won’t work this time around.”

he hummed again, and within his cocky tone you could anticipate he had something to nag you with, “so i was handsome to you? that’s adorable.”

“fucking insufferable.”

“but handsome nonetheless?” and you almost threw your phone at his pretty face when he just grinned and exited the room. actually, no. you almost threw your phone when you realized that you were blushing, and fighting off a smile as he left your room.

what was this man doing to you?!
──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

19th of october,
7:58 p.m.

🍓attempt 01: no limits.

“okay, and i have no limits?” you asked again, just to ensure that you heard him right.

“yes, you do not.”

“and you’re not gonna sue me for using your money?”

“no, i will not. i don’t think i can legally.” he sighed, “do you wanna do it or not?”

“i do, but…” zoro's heavy voice kissed your ears, cutting you off, "then, stop whining. no buts, no ifs.”

“is this really how you’re gonna win me over?” mumbling, your lips fell into an easy pout, “feels more like bribery.”

“nami said the quickest way to a woman's heart is shopping. or just cold, hard cash, really. but i figured this was more romantic." tilting his face downwards, his voice dropped down to a whisper, “does it feel romantic yet?”

goddamn that freak!

your skin erupted into a violent goosebump as you felt his words against your soft skin. your face heated up as your fingers stilled against the keypad of your laptop, the home page of your favorite shopping site pulled up and resting neatly. ready to do some damage on his wallet. well, honestly, what damage? he was a well-paid nepo baby who had a personal gym and court in his house. this would probably barely feel like a pinch to him.

“again, i ask for your consent.” you asked anyways, trying to remind yourself to be a business-savvy woman who had only come to absolutely wreck his wallet. zoro declared monotonously, “i give it with full consciousness. jesus, woman.”

“okay then, no taksies backsies.” you cleared your throat in anticipation. stretching your fingers slowly as they hovered over the keyboard. his arms wrapped around your middle and you fell against his chest with a soft thud, “start already.”

“what’s even the reason for this?”

“your manager said we can’t go out, like in public. and blondie hates me enough as it is right now. so, i didn’t wanna risk taking you shopping outside.” roronoa zoro found himself revelling in your dishevelled demeanour. voice honeyed, he rasped out, “what’s wrong with my room, though? nice ‘n comfy, isn’t it?”

“I meant what is the reason for me to sit on your fucking lap?”

“oh that?” he was laying in his bed, with you atop him and your laptop atop you. you grumbled on, “and is it necessary to do this in your room? the living room is a perfectly perfect place to shop online.”

“you want me to get handsy in front of my father? that’s too much. the old man would probably die if he saw me like that.” he hummed, “not sure he’s ever even done anything. you know, given both me and ‘rona are adopted.”

you glared back at him at the shit he spewed but then your eyes widened as realization sunk in, “holy shit is he a forty year old... virgin?”

“dunno.”

“but he’s like emo, and vampirish. there’s no way he didn’t get some during the twilight era.”

“he was also the world champion at that time,” zoro reminisced, “he must have gotten girls.”

a laugh escaped you by, “zoro.” you stressed, “you’re the world champion right now. and the tally of girls you get is at a great zero.”

zoro mulled over your words before slowly shifting his pelvis so that you fell back at him unexpectedly, “not zero. got a girl on my lap right now.”

his laugh echoed yours as he held you tighter, and you tried to wriggle free, “jus’ cause you’re paying. no other reason.”

“how does it feel to lie to yourself?” he asked with mock grievance in his tone, and you tried to elbow his side to break free, “die.”

“kill me yourself, coward.”

“i will.” you admitted, still laughing as he decided to somehow tighten his grip even more firmly, “don’t. you’d look horrible in orange.”

“how dare you, roronoa zoro.” your palm struck his forearm playfully, “do not talk about my fashion choices when you shower once a week.”

“nobody had a problem with it thus far,” he answered back easily, “but if you have a problem, i suppose i could shower semi-regularly.”

“semi-regularly?” you almost coughed up a hairball, “jesus christ, i don’t think i would able to fuck you ever again.”

“liar.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

22nd of October,
7:43 a.m.

🍓attempt 02: the way to the heart is through the stomach (i think??)

“roronoa.”

“father.”

“what are you doing in my kitchen right now?” the man raised a careful eyebrow, staring at his dishevelled son who he had caught not a minute earlier bickering with a red-head on his phone.

“cooking,” zoro deadpanned, “i'm trying to make waffles.”

his fathers hawk-like gaze swept over the kitchen. flour sprinkled over counter-tops, some on his cheek, a batter that looked more radioactive that the what remained of Chernobyl. the older man drawled on, “and i presume you know how to cook?”

“no. she's helping.” he flashed his father his phone-screen and the familiar, scorned woman who was on video-call. when she caught sight of mihawk, she smiled, “sir mihawk, how are you?”

“just passing by. come by for dinner someday, nami.” the man deadpanned and the manager laughed, “of course. how can I refuse?”

now his hawk-like stare was trained on zoro, who stared back at his father as if they were sworn enemies on court, “what is it, now?”

“is it for her?”

“who else?”

“don’t burn my house down.”

“understood.”

and with that brief conversation, mihawk disappeared back into the mazes of his house, and zoro went back to bickering with the red-head.

“you add milk.” she emphasized, clicking her manicured nails together as she tried to guide an idiot to build the equivalent of rome, “do you not know what milk is?”

“i have enough calcium in my bones and I will not fall for scams like milk or medical insurance.”

“what?” she spluttered, “y-you don’t have insurance?!”

“when am I ever gonna need it, woman?”

“oh my god. you don’t have insurance!” and the last thing zoro saw the manager do was flip him off as she ran to some place elsewhere. possibly to get him some sort of medical insurance that he totally didn’t need. beep.

zoro’s fingers hovered over his contact list, the next stop being perona neesan 💗👻 .

“'rona.” zoro grumbled as he caught the face of perona on the other side. huge sunglasses were perched on her nose, a silky bandana flowing from her coloured hair, “awh, you remember me, zoro. finally.”

“quit that,” he mumbled helplessly before turning the back camera, “i need your help.”

“you’re committing arson at dad’s place?” she raised her sunnies so as to see the kitchen better. flour everywhere, and whatever the fuck was in that batter. kissing her teeth, she admitted, “i mean i don’t endorse violence… but that kitchen could use a makeover.”

“no. jesus, perona.” he turned to camera around to his face, “i– uh, i need to make waffles. an’ i don’t know shit. can you help or what?”

“huh?” her bug-like eyes widened impossibly wider, “yeah, obviously i can. but why are you cooking? is dad dying? and is his last wish to eat burnt waffles?”

“haha, funny.”

“wasn’t being funny. you have like... two left hands.”

“just to remind you, i’m ambidextrous.” zoro replied, poker-faced, and perona pouted, “who are you making them for, then?”

“myself.”

“liar.” narrowing her eyes, she probed further, “is it your ex? oh my god. are you guys actually together?”

“what?” zoro narrowed his eyes in return, “fuck off, ‘m not asking you for help.” he sighed, “where did you even hear about that?”

“it’s her?!” the goth girl squealed, “and you didn’t tell me?! I thought it was regular PR stuff that nami dragged you into. but she’s back? i remember how you sobbed when–”

“bye, 'rona. don’t call me back.” beep.

roronoa zoro had barely breathed when his elder sister called back. he picked it up with a groan, “what? I’m not answering your stupid questions.”

“okay fine.” she huffed, “’m not gonna ask you about your pathetic, little crush right now. keyword: right now.”

“perona.” he tried to threaten but the woman just leaned forward till her face was all zoro could see, “show me some respect, i’m older than you.”

“sorry.” the green-haired mumbled and his sister nodded in self-satisfaction, “and as far as waffles as concerned, don’t cook. you’d burn the house down. just order them in and say you made them.”

“isn’t that like, practically lying?”

“it is, yes.”

“and aren’t you gonna tell me how it’s morally wrong to do that?”

“it’s a fucking waffle, zoro. not the olympics.” she finally pulled the sunnies back to her face and carefully perched them on her nose again, “nobody cares about cheating. just win her over, and thank me later.”

“you’re a bad influence, you know that?” a small smile cracked across his face, “oh, by the way–” the sportsman quirked an eyebrow, “do you have health insurance?”

“i mean, who doesn’t?”

“me.”

“what?”

“nothing. thanks, i appreciate it.” the goth girl eyes widened all over again and zoro cut the call before her concerns could reach him.

8:55 a.m.

“you know what’s insane?” you mumbled through a mouthful, “i can swear that joanna’s bakery down the street makes these exact waffles.”

“do they?” zoro leaned forward, pouring more syrup to distract you, “that’s wild.”

“it is.” you nodded before taking another mouthful, “you know what else is insane?”

“how much of a good cook i am?” he tried, before having a bite himself.

“no.” you smiled at the way he gulped down the sweet breakfast up, “the fact that i swear i saw a brown bag with their logo in the trash, and now these waffles taste exactly like theirs.”

zoro froze, eyes trained on the mess of fried batter and syrup. he slowly looked up, “that’s insane, indeed.” he averted his gaze as you deadpanned, “you’re a terrible liar.”

“isn’t that an ideal quality though?” he tried again, “like, i could never lie to you.”

“mhm,” you nodded as a smile pressed to your lips, “try harder next time.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

25th of october,
10:03 p.m.

🍓attempt 03: with love, from an idiot.

“if this backfires, then what?” the man asked, and you could only make out faint noises from his phone. a faint, “if it backfires, then, you don’t get the girl, genius.” but nothing beyond that could deciphered as you stood with your ear to the door of your room.

“are you done?” you knocked at your door when the bickering on the other end ceased momentarily. the wood echoed under your faint hits as you called out again, “can I come in or what?”

there was no answer and you busied yourself with tracing the pattern of wood on the door once over. your forehead touched the cold wood, frustrated at yourself for allowing that beast to take over your territory.

zoro had waltzed into your room and declared that he was going to kick you out of your own room.

“huh?” you had mumbled, too confused at the way he tugged your arm and tried to push you outwards, “no way I’m leaving. fuck no.”

“I need like half an hour. I promise–”

“–if you intend to paint my room green, zoro.” you had barely started when he asked you to leave again. so, obviously, you both bickered for a good five minutes, got yelled at by mihawk cause you two were interrupting his wine drinking hour, and proceeded to bicker in whispers before you had to finally cave in and go out.

now, you were sitting in front of the closed door, and tracing patterns in the hope that sooner or later, your territory will be given back to you.

“yeah, come on in.” you heard the man finally yell back from the other side, and you sprung up to your feet in part-excitement, part-fear. your fingers tried to turn the sleek metal handle to swing it open. except it wouldn’t open. moving it front and back, your eyebrows bunched when the door refused to budge open.

“what the fuck?” and to your surprise the green-head on the other side yelled back, “jesus, stop trying to break open the door.”

“it won’t open!”

“because I’m trying to open it for you.” he hissed back, “and you’re pulling from the other side. stop it.”

“you stop it.”

“if you could just let me do that for you. fuck–” the door swung inwards with such abrupt, wicked force that you almost kissed the ground face-first. glaring up at the man, you seethed, “what was that for?”

“i was trying to be a gentleman.”

you straightened up, squaring your shoulders defensively, “don’t. you’re barely a fully-functioning man.”

while you were waiting for him to counter you with his regular flirting disguised as hostility, instead his face softened and he apologized, “sorry. come on in?”

“huh?” your shoulders went slack, eyes narrowing at his broad figure as you walked past him and into the room.

the lights were dim.

“what’s this?” your eyes scanned the place, he had made a pillow fort on the ground with whatever haphazard sheets and pillows you had been hoarding in the room. the tv in your room showed a still from netflix: Ten Things I Hate About You.

you bent down, thumb and forefinger raising the sheets upwards to properly see inside, you saw packs of chips and instant ramen, coke and chocolates stashed to the side.

still frozen, you found him meekly call out your name, “do you hate it? do you? you do, right?” you heard the door lock behind you, “i can undo it, it’ll take me like ten minutes tops. it is literally not a big deal, i’ll take it down.” his voice dropped down to a whisper, “jesus fuck, I told nami this was stupid.”

he knelt next to you, forearms stretched forward as if he was itching to pull the flimsy housing to shreds. your hand grabbed his, face turning to meet his shy one.

“you did this for me?”

“uh,” he hesitated, “remember, blondie said no going out. so, I thought i’d try… this?” his voice grew weak, “you hate it.”

“you did it for me?” you repeated, almost in disbelief.

he sighed methodically, “who else?”

a grin broke on your face, “i didn’t take you for a romantic, roronoa.”

he shrugged off the goosebumps that threatened to break on his body at your reaction, “pfft. whatever. it’s not a… it’s not a big deal. nami helped… so, yeah.”

“you even put on my one of my favourite movies.”

“yeah, yeah.” the sportsman stood up, walking away from you to duck inside the fort and arrange the food items. but you could see his ear-tips growing redder, coy eyes carefully avoiding yours, “you’re, uh, you’re welcome.”

“but if you’re trying to impress me.” you followed suit, “this is not gonna work.”

he turned back to stare at you. a deer in headlights. “’s not?”

“well, I know you’re not a romantic. nami surely is though, it seems.” you settled down on the comfy mattress, turning your body so that it faced the wall the tv was plastered on, “i know this won’t happen again once we’re actually dating.”

“hey, it’s not like I’m not romantic at all. see, i’ve been doing well these couple of months. i think?” he tried to defend but you cut him, “you’re off season right now. once you have your five a.m. trainings and regular matches, you’d forget I even exist. you forget to eat, to fucking breathe when it comes to your game. a whole ass human?” you found yourself scoffing, “you would give up in a day. and that’s me just speculating based on observing you from afar per these past few months.”

he fell silent, probably reeling from your accurate observation. you sighed, trying to ease the unnecessary tension you had created, “i’m not attacking you, zoro.”

features downcast, lips pulled into an emotionless straight line. he repeated, “you’re speculating based on observing me from afar per these past few months?”

you probably should have drawn the line here, probably should have said okay and turned on the movie. but you were so well-versed in the language of self-destruction that someone should arrange a fucking pulitzer for you.

“you’re a sportsman first, son next.” you prayed your voice held atleast an inch of sympathy as you did a neat, little character assassination of the poor man. “as much as I appreciate the gesture, I am not sure where lover falls on that priority list. you like the chase, the idea… that i am something grand.” you stilled, “but i’m not. i am not an olympic medal, or a grand slam title. i'm just some woman.”

“you’re not just some woman.” he breathed slowly. “i suppose you have a point. i am not a lover. my hands find the racket before they find a bouquet, my words find silence before they do declarations of love. i- i don’t how to… just love.” he repeated to plead his case.

and this was it.

you barely held your breath as the man next to confirmed just who he was. he was not a lover. he was the number one on the global charts. and how selfish had you been to demand that he be anything but that demon on court?

“but,” zoro proved you wrong. “i wouldn’t have sacrificed long days and sleepless nights for just some woman. you underestimate how much you mean to me.” his breath grew strained, words unsure as if it was the first time he was telling the truth, “five years is a long, long time to come back home and yearn for your arms.”

you didn’t turn your head to gawk at him even though every cell in you wanted to. every inch of you wanted to turn your head, grab his face in your smaller palms and ask him to confess just how much you meant to him. but you were not sure you could listen to him come up empty handed like a fish out of water. you were not sure you wanted to find out just how easily roronoa zoro could break your heart.

but as the two of you fell into silence, your eyes zeroed in on the zooming in and out title card on tv instead, “let’s jus’ watch.”

“you mean everything to me. always have, always will.” you felt his palm on yours, and you flinched at his careful touches. pulling your hand back to your chest, you felt the familiar speeding up of your heart against your ribcage, “don’t. zoro, please.”

“don’t what?” he tried to ask, tried to turn toward you with anticipation making a home in his irises and vile thoughts on his lips.

don’t what? you tried to find the answer to the very same question. don’t what? what did you want to say to him? was it “please don’t make me think you could love me all over again.” or “please don’t break my heart again.” or just a simple “don’t say another word or i’d find myself risking it all for you. and i cannot stand to be the fool who fell for you yet again.”

just a series of unfortunate ‘agains’, it seemed.

instead, you turned your body towards his, tentative hands coming up to hold his face in yours before falling back to the mattress. you raked in a forbidden sigh, the sound so loud in the eerily quite room. finally looking at him, you found yourself growing dumber.

somehow, like this – vulnerable – he looked like just another twenty-two year old. not a world champion. not somebody capable of destroying you.

“i am not sure i’m ready to get my heart broken by you again.” you confessed slowly, like a coward. “i am not sure i can celebrate my next birthday, just to beg some meaningless god above for you once more.”

“then don’t.” his eyes drifted downwards, heartsick fingers twitching as they inched closer to your warmth. his words were low, like yet another coward. “don’t ask for me back if i break your heart again.”

was it that simple?

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

26th of october,
8:09 a.m.

you woke up with open packets and stacked cups of ramen on the floor, some episode of friends blaring on the tv and zoro stirring you awake.

sunlight filtered through the window, streaming in and pouring through the linen onto the man in front you. he was pretty, achingly so. his hair was tousled, lips parted, and thick brows bunched together like he was playing a match right now, “wake up.”

“huh?” rubbing your eyes, you tried to blink sleep away but instead grew more confused the longer you ruminated about his words, “what?”

“up and runnin’.” he repeated, “i need you.”

“need me?” your face contorted to show pure, unadulterated confusion, “zoro, ‘slike eight a.m.? can’t you wait a while?”

something nostalgic stirred within you as he smiled and bent down to face you easily. did the sun always get caught against his frame like he was a deity with a chokehold on you?

his smile was easy-going, and suddenly, you were fourteen year olds planning to ‘run away’ from home because you wanted to see the world. his voice shook you out of the daze, “get your head out of the gutter. didn’t mean it that way.”

“huh?” you couldn’t even find yourself growing offended amid your sleep-infused, hazed state. “what do you mean then?”

he tugged on your arms to help you sit up, “we’re going on a road trip.”

“we… are?” your expression grew awry, “where?”

“pack up and meet me outside,” he stood up, “you’d find out once we get there.”

“but zoro, hey–” you tried calling out. but it was futile as he walked out of the room, and you stay seated in the mess of sheets and pillow and tried to make sense of what was and what is.

5:42 p.m.
🍓attempt 04: next destination: love!

zoro stared at his phone for what seemed like an eternity. your gaze shifted from him to the deserted road and back to him. the dull sun inching near the horizon skeptically as if watching you two making a fool of yourselves. the winds were warm, and your road-trip was in the hands of an absolute idiot.

you slumped back into the leather, muttering, “should’ve never let you navigate.”

“let me concentrate, woman.” he huffed as his forefinger and thumb zoomed in on the unknown streets on his maps.

“how do you ever go anywhere?! your navigation powers are in the negatives.” tone haughty, you turned around to stare at him, “what kind of grown ass man gets confused on google maps? it literally said go straight!”

“i did go straight.” he turned to stare at you, tone just as haughty. “and i have a driver usually, i don’t drive by myself.”

“you went straight?” you repeated, somewhat amused by his ability to get lost on a straight highway. you craned your head, eyes peering past the black, tinted windows to stare at the deserted road, “and we ended up here? near a ghost town?”

“hold on.” he shifted his attention to the useless app pulled up on his phone screen. his face bunched up in irritation, throwing his phone on the dash-board before shifting the gear to start moving, “no point staying in one place, let’s keep movin’ and we will eventually figure it out.”

“figure what out?” you groaned, slumping back all over again, “atleast tell me where we’re going.”

“surpr–” you cut him off, “there would be no surprise if we never reach it!”

“okay, fair.” he breathed in slowly as the SUV made its way down the deserted road, passing by curated farms only inhabited by scarecrows. he sighed, “if we don’t figure out the road by nightfall, i’ll tell you.”

10:53 p.m.

“so,” zoro avoided your heated gaze, finally admitting the truth, “guess we’re lost."

“yes. yes we are, roronoa.”

“and it’s nightfall, so, i should tell you the destination.”

“yes. yes you should, roronoa.”

“don’t use that tone with me.” he tried meekly and your eyes narrowed in response, “why? are you scared?”

“no.” he cleared his throat, trying to sound like his usual self as he looked around in the lonely diner. the wooden table was rickety, the theme of the diner felt vintage-y, but in a way that was more unused than vintage. a lone, old woman waited behind the counter as you both munched on your dinner. once done with his inspection, he continued, “but it’s unnerving. you sound like nami, and she’s a witch as far as i know. red-head, you know.”

“you have moss-green hair, roronoa.”

“witches support witches.” he emphasized, and in return, a witch-like laugh past your lips, “you should be unnerved. good, because i feel like i have no choice but to sacrifice you in a satanic ritual to go back home now.”

the old woman behind the counter looked at you with utter dread in her eyes but you were too busy stabbing your fork in your grilled cheese, “now, spill. where were we going?”

he sighed, “home.”

“home?” you repeated, “home?”

“i thought i’d take you back to our childhood home,” his voice trailed off.

“why?”

why that wretched place? the place that become bleak, repetitive once you were left all alone five years ago, once he left in the blink of an eye. you routine had become monotonous after him: badminton court, school, home, practice, home, practice, home, sleep. rinse and repeat. repeat. repeat. repeat.

pursing his lips together, he looked down at his plate, “for old time’s sake, i guess?”

“old time’s sake?”

“there was a time when neither of us hated that little, suburban town.” he grinned, “remember that park with the broken swings?”

“that shit was haunted.” you took a bite, conspiring through a mouthful, “i mean why else was it never fixed?”

he continued, “and that public swimming pool? how was every guard there a creep?”

“except dave.” you nodded in agreement, a slight smile playing on your lips, “dave was cool.”

"he liked you so much, it was stupid." zoro huffed before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“you're the one to talk. do you remember courtney?” you grinned, shoving an index in his direction, “she had suchhh a huge crush on you in middle-school. it was honestly confusing.”

“why was it confusing?”

“you looked like a kiwi,” and you laughed when his eyebrows bunched together and he almost pouted, “i believe it was you that liked this kiwi.”

“tch, that was lifetimes ago.” your voice softened as he stayed quiet, the two of you just looking at each other as if registering each other’s silence as the only, absolute truth. the knife lodged in your grilled cheese slipped past your grip and a soft clang rang out as it hit your porcelain plate. you hummed, “should’ve told me we’re going back. i would have helped you navigate, zoro.”

“’sfine.” he shook his head, right hand coming up to scratch the itch away and re-set the strands of hair, “we can just head back. if we leave now, we’d reach by dawn. it’s pointless to go back to that old town now.”

you sighed, fingers interlocking as you slumped back against the worn out seat. the booth was cold against your back, the light bulb flickering momentarily as the two of you existed in a place far removed from reality, a place where the two of you were just twenty-somethings eating dinner at a worn-out diner.

“are you done eating?” you asked once he pushed his plate away. he nodded and you found yourself tugging his arm to leave the diner.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, confused, as he trailed after you. you glanced back once, “if we keep moving forward, we’d probably figure it out, right?” you stilled, turning fully to face him, “let’s go home, yeah?”

if roronoa zoro could, he would follow you to the miserable depths of hell. what was a small town compared to that?

he nodded, “yeah.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

27th of october,
6:29 p.m.

“this is it, huh?” you stared at the massive suburban home in front of you. the lawn was trimmed, kept nice and clean as you two stood in front of what was once your humble abode.

your family had sold the place once you expressed that you wanted to move away to do better in your profession, and you had never had the heart to come back and check who bought the place or who didn’t.

“wanna walk around town?” zoro offered his palm, albeit a bit hesitantly, “let’s see what has changed.”

well, that small creak behind your middle school had dried up, now littered with popped soda cans and torn packs of chip. cigarette butts stuck between jagged rocks and dried leaves. the ‘haunted’ park was still not fixed, but you saw little children running around, the scarfs against their tiny frames flying behind them momentarily as they chased each other around. and the leaves on the ground stirred like they were alive under their light footsteps. the old public badminton court had been renovated, it seemed, and the streetlights had been upgraded to a softer orange-y shade rather than the harsh white you both grew up under.

“they made another mall where the theatre was.” zoro commented as you both walked by what used to be your old cinema hall.

“you remember the theatre?” you asked as your eyes raked over the looming white structure with faces of celebrities plastered onto hoardings with the bold declarations of ‘now playing’.

“of course,” he shrugged, muscled arms methodically going up and down, “we had our first date there.”

“it wasn’t a date. you told me you wanted to catch the movies and then you tried to hold my hand for the next two hours.” you emphasized, kicking the dried twigs on the sidewalk. zoro joined in, lazily kicking fallen leaves and scoffing, “perona said it was. i even bought you caramel popcorn.”

and you found yourself giggling, “you even remember the flavour?”

“i remember everything.” his tone appeared to be nonchalant, “a white tank-top with strawberries on it and a blue-wash jeans, that’s what you were wearing.”

you lips pressed together, “can’t believe you remember that.” you came up to softly poke his side, “who would’ve thought you’re a romantic?”

“yeah, yeah.” he rolled his eyes, biting down an infectious smile, “i just have a good memory.”

“good memory?” you scoffed, “how come you’re such a bad navigator then?”

“tch, i’m just a bit geographically challenged.”

you laughed as your footsteps fell one in front of the other, and he trailed behind wordlessly.

as zoro saw you walk in front of him, your dainty hands interlocking so you could stretch them overhead and the way you looked back at him to beckon him towards you, so as to follow you faster. all of it made his heart twist unnaturally in the pit that was his chest. all of it.

next, you both passed your old high-school. standing at the metallic fence, the sun dipped far below the horizon as the streetlights behind you flickered and came alive. the two of you stood behind the metallic, looking at the buildings that had seen you grow in it’s hallways. when you sighed, the air fogged up just a tiny bit, “your blue jersey from state championships, and black jeans. white adidas too.”

“hm?” zoro cocked his head to your side, and you continued, “that’s what you were wearing on our not-date.”

“you remember?”

you pressed your forehead to the metal, the cold fence digging indentures onto your forehead, “of course i remember. i actually have a good memory.”

the two of your stood in frigid silence and the nightly winds grew stronger around you both. you pulled back, turning your face towards zoro, “it’s growing cold, wanna head back to the car?”

his thumb came up to ease away the red markings on your forehead, the friction of his touches melting away the cold essence of the metal. once he was satisfied with his damage control on your forehead, he nodded, “one more pit stop, then, let’s head back.”

10:02 p.m.

the car was parked in the middle of the field where you had spent reckless evenings just like this with zoro five years prior, to the very field where you had last seen him before he left without a word.

you remembered that cruel night as if it was your whole existence. it might as well have been considering how many time you had replayed the same night in your head over and over and over again, wondering if you had done something stupid.

you had sneaked out of your home, and he had sneaked here after his practice was finally over. his hair was sweaty, boyish features coloured a brutal shade of petrified as he approached you under the night sky.

“what’s wrong?” you had asked once you had noticed his downcast eyes and his shivering hands.

“nothing.” zoro had pressed his lips into a thin smile, “’m just tired from the practice.”

“oh?” you held his palm in yours, pressing a sweet kiss to it, “don’t worry, soon you’d win the state championship and then we would have all the time in the world to hang out, right?”

maybe you should have understood it right then when roronoa zoro simply nodded and looked away you. he had never been a good liar anyways.

that night, you both had sat down on the ground. staring up at the night sky, you had traced the constellations with your finger-tips and made false promises of a candied future that never came by. the soft grass under you both had tainted your cream coloured shorts green that day. yet another cruel reminder of him, yet another proof that he and you were real, yet another physical evidence of the love that once was.

“why’re we here?” you couldn’t be bothered masking up the irritability in your voice. the raw edges of hurt cut right back your mortal body as you stepped out of the passenger seat.

“c'mon.” that’s all zoro said as he lend you a hand and helped you climb the car’s roof top.

“zoro.” you repeated sternly, but he just helped you up without much explanation. once you were perched on the metallic frame, he climbed up and your voice momentarily wobbled, “a-are we sure the roof’s not gonna break?”

“no, ‘snot.” he clarified, slowly inching closer to you till you could feel his body warmth against your arm.

tilting your face upwards, you drunk in the sight of the malevolent sky littered with heavy, grey clouds that covered the usual litter of stars; so cruel but so pretty underneath it all.

zoro pulled his knees to his chest, softly perching his chin atop them with a sigh, “pretty, isn’t it?”

“why’re we here of all places?” you pulled your knees to your chest, mirroring his actions.

“it felt wrong to leave without seeing this place once.” he admitted softly, “d’you hate it that much?”

“yes. i do.” you nodded, burying your face against the jagged, scarred skin of your knees. you hated this place, and the pair of green-stained cream shorts in your cupboard were nothing if not the proof of that.

“such a shame,” he sighed, “’s a pretty place.”

“zoro–” but he cut you off, “we’ve changed so much in these five years, haven’t we? let’s get to know each other again.” he lifted his head to look at you, “what’s your favourite hobby?”

you scoffed, “you’re kidding.”

“i’m not.”

“did perona put you upto this?” your eyes narrowed, head still tipped back to stare at the grumbling sky, “or nami.”

“no.” he stressed, “my hobby is probably playing pool now. luffy put me onto it, it‘s kinda cool.”

“i thought sleeping was your favourite past-time.” you turned to look away from the sky and at him but somehow couldn’t. you sighed, slowly admitting, “that was what you always said in interviews.”

“did you stalk me via interviews?”

you tucked your knees one over the other and straightened up, “says the man who watched every match where I got my ass handed to me.”

“i never said i did or didn’t stalk you.”

“you also didn’t say that you won’t break my heart again.” his eyes were boring into yours as you turned your face to finally find his, “you just said to not pray for you back.”

“would you believe me if i told you i won’t break your heart?”

traces of sleep lingered in his eyes, patterns from guilt long-gone-by traced onto his cheeks. you realized with a certain ache that you would probably believe this man if he told you he made the colosseum in his past life, and that he was Genghis Khan re-incarnated. but the fact that he won’t break your heart again? doubtful.

you turned your face back to the thundering clouds. they flashed a myriad of colours and loud sounds enveloped your mortal figures as they churned impatiently above you. you heaved in a breath. slowly exhaling, you asked, “when i lost women’s doubles against the boa sisters, you know what they said to me?”

you believed he knew the answer, being an interview-stalker himself. but he played along, “what?”

“they asked me if you broke up with me because I threaten your legacy as number one, zoro.” a deep sigh passed you by, “since i’m still number two, and from the looks of it they don’t think i’ll be one any time soon.” a mirthless laugh escaped your lips, “honestly, i don’t think I’ll be one any time soon.”

“do you really think i give a crap about shit like that?” zoro raised his face fully, widened eyes looking at you as if you had just accused him of skinning men alive.

“why else would you leave everything behind to be number one, roronoa?”

to you it was clear. he wanted to be number one, so, he left everything behind to be it. simple as that. he wanted to go after his dreams, so, he sacrificed everything he loved. you just happened to be unfortunate enough to be one of those things he loved. simple as that.

“i promised someone.” he finally admitted when you stayed silent, “back when i was in foster care.”

“what?” you found yourself turning your face to look at his, and the man who stared back at you seemed to be a man ravaged and hunted, like a mere prey for guilt.

roronoa zoro had never kept any secrets from you. never. not when he met you as a kiwi-looking middle-schooler at thirteen, and not when he was about to be twenty-three a decade later. no secrets other than his past in foster care. you knew mihawk adopted him when he was eleven, and perona when she was fifteen but no more than that. his past in the foster-care, that one was off-limits.

no questions, no answers.

and you had never pushed. it was something he wanted to forget and you’d be damned if you brought his demons to his under the pretence of harmless curiosity. that was it.

no questions, no answers.

then why was he speaking of it now?

“i only had this one friend. no. she was more like a sister, really.” his eyes hardened, “kuina. she was obsessed with this game, and i hadn’t even heard of it. every fucking time she got her hands on the tv to the communal room, she would turn on sports channel and tear through them till she found one playing re-runs of badminton.”

your muscles ached, and suddenly you were reminded of the air you had ceased to breath in. zoro continued, “she used to drag me to play, and then she used to beat my fucking ass at it. every fucking time. then, one night…” his voice grew thicker, like tar lodged right in his larynx, “she told me that one day, she would make it out of that shitty foster system and she would be number one.”

“somehow, seven year old me thought it would be fun to argue with her. so, i told her ‘no, i’d be number one and you’d be watching.’ she told me no. she had every right to. she was a better player than I was. she deserved this more than i do.”

“zo,” your hand found his bicep as his eyes glossed over, “you don’t have to tell me.”

but you didn’t know any player by the name of kuina, so, it didn’t take you long to guess where the story was headed. somehow, you stomach still dropped when zoro spoke the next part aloud, “she died a day later. ran into the fucking street while chasing the shuttle that the wind blew over. died on the fucking spot.”

“zoro.”

“i made a promise. a-and she was my sister.”

“zoro.” and you moved to engulf him within your arms. you felt him shudder under you, face pressed to your chest in a bleak effort to hold back tears as you held him tighter and tighter against yourself. as if your weak, mortal body could undo the past or stop him from the torment that was his own mind.

“i’m sorry.” your words paled in comparison to the feelings that brewed within the depths of your stomach. as if to reflect the words you couldn’t utter, drops of rain poured down onto you both mercilessly, as if the skies were mourning.

“i’m sorry.” you repeated, arms moving haphazardly to hold him to yourself closer. his hand moved with just as much desperation, trying to clutch onto you as if you were the only tangible thread of sanity left within him, as if your touch was all that grounded him, kept him alive.

“i- i can’t, i won’t lose you.” he mumbled into your skin, “i won’t let it happen. not again.”

he raised his face to look at you and bloodshot eyes met yours. his hair stuck to his forehead, lips quivering and you couldn’t tell which drops were tears and which rain on his soaked face.

your eyes racked over his frame. from his uncaring hair, to the eyes that had grown weary far too young, to the same pair of lips you had ached to call home, and finally the arms that you had yearned for much the same for the past five years.

“zoro?” you leaned towards him as your voice grew weaker. rain drops on your lips clung helplessly as he followed your voice, face falling forward till your foreheads were mere hairsbreadth apart, “y-yeah?”

why did your breath sound so strained? how come you could feel your heart pumping wildly against the bones lodged in your chest? how could you taste the metallic taste of blood and rain on your lips like as you heaved out ragged words?

you bit your lip to stop it from quivering helplessly. words failing to voice what not even your brain could, you asked for similar candied lies, “say you won’t break my heart again.”

words desperate, he nodded, “i won’t.”

“no,” your breath grew more ragged as each second passed you by, “no. swear on it.”

his calloused palm came to rest on your cheeks, forehead touching as he closed his eyes shut. “i swear on it. i, roronoa zoro, promise to never break your heart again.”

“and if you do?”

“you’re more than welcome to break my skull with my own racket. plummet it down really hard.”

a small smile cracked at your lips, “really?”

“promise.” he hummed. and as he leaned forward to catch your lips against his in a sickly, sweet routine, you pulled back.

he barely had the second to react before you crashed back into him. you couldn’t wait any longer. your lips against his in a clash of teeth and lips and tongue and the faint taste of rain on your skins.

“’s pouring.” he panted, words barely being processed in your lucid state, “wan’ you s’bad though. so, so fucking bad.”

the next you knew, your wet back met the leather backseat of his car.

the sportsman hovered over you momentarily. and next, all you felt was his naked skin pressed to yours, his calloused palms tracing patterns long-forgotten to your sides as he gulped down anything you had to offer. any cries, any grudges, any desires.

you pushed him away just to be able to breath, but air seemed to be the last priority on zoro’s mind as he caught your lips against his in a methodical, little game all over again. panting against your pretty lips, his fingers tried to rid you of your soaked jeans and panties. and all of it was so lewd, so unbearably lewd.

from the sounds of his skin on yours, the sound of the rain violently crashing against the tinted windows and the sounds of his desperate huffs and pants as he tried to manhandle you and get rid of the whatever unholy layers separated you from his feral touches.

“z-zoro,” you stuttered helplessly and the man that peered down at you resembled more a demon ready to fester on the last bit of your lucidity rather than the man you loved.

“c’mere.” he husked, and within moments he was under you. laying prettily on the backseat as your honeyed heat hovered only inches away from his pretty lips. as he stared up at you, his strong arms wrapped around your hips and he pulled you to his lips.

“fuck,” his eyes rolled back as he ran an experimental flick of his tongue against your core, and you flinched, already pulling back from him.

and how could you blame roronoa zoro for tightening his grip against your thighs and fully seating you over his face?

“none of that hoverin’ shit.” he declared in a series of hot pants against your drenched cunt, “let me eat my girl out properly.”

“z-zoro,” you bucked forward as his lips attached around the sensitive nub, sucking like he knew your untimely demise was his very duty. strong fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he ate you out like a man starved, like a man ravished.

it was all so messy, all so untamed, feral. just a mix of spit, your honeyed fluids and his insane determination to make you unravel at the tip of his tongue.

he sneaked in a hand, forefinger and thumb pinching the nub as his tongue delved deeper into your velvety hole. your eyes rolled back as his strokes stayed unrelentless against your heat and you found yourself falling apart at his preying touches, “oh my god, zo. ‘m gonna fuck–”

“cum f’me.” he rasped against you, the other hand coming down to smack the fat of your ass. you ass recoiled under his pressure and you jolted as he rubbed the stinging area better. hot tears pricked at your eyes as he brought down a unrelenting hand at the same strawberry-red patch of skin. the pain mingled in with the methodical strokes of his tongue and the messy rubbing from his fingers pushed you past your limit.

your walls spasmed, sickly sweet dew pooling at his lips as you bucked forward with a strangled cry in your throat, “zoro, zoro, zo.”

you weren’t quite sure if you imagined it, or if you truly felt roronoa zoro smirk against your aching cunt before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses onto the damage he had done.

as you tried to catch your breath, zoro kissed – no, devoured – your clit. your throbbing bundle of nerves caught between his lips dangerously, he sucked on it as you bucked and keened over him, “one more. c’mon, baby.”

“no, please.” you tried to cry out but the maddened man could hear nothing over the blood rush against his ears and the ecstasy of your orgasm on his tongue. clenching his eyes shut, all he could focus was on the way you squirmed over him. trying to run away? pushing him away?

he couldn’t help but grin like a man gone far too gone because this was like a challenge, and what did roronoa love if not challenges? you were practically begging him to eat you till you cried and begged him to let you go, were you not?

“z-zo.” your voice failed you at your fourth orgasm and all you could feel was the muscle pushing in and out of your sore, aching cunt and his fingers pulling on your nipple so, so meanly. “z-zoro,” you tried again, this time without stuttering, “you’re s’mean, zo.”

“am i?” the way he sounded, you felt like only more torture was on your way, “am i so, so mean?”

you nodded, tears rolling down your pretty face as he thumbed your sore clit and cooed, “sorry, baby.”

“y-you’re not sorry,” you hips spasmed at his careless touches and you threw your head back to hold back a cry, “you’re n-not sorry at all.”

“’m not,” he admitted cockily, pulling you upwards so he could press kisses to your sore thighs, “only i get to ruin my girl.”

“y-your girl?” you sounded so out-of-it, so innocent with the way he had fucked you dumb. wobbly lips, teary eyes and hoarse voice. god, he loved you. he nodded, peering at you as if breaking it down for you, “my girl.”

pulling your quivering thighs off of him, he sat up and softly placed you on his lap. when you met his pussydrunk face, his lips were drenched off of your essence. he wiped his face off the back of his hand, then using the same hand to pull your jaw forward to kiss you senseless all over again.

his mushroom tip sat hotly against your inner thigh, smearing the glossy precum all over your soft skin. as zoro battled his tongue against yours, your nimble fingers toyed with his flushed cock-head. as you softly thumbed the slit, zoro found himself whimpering against your pouty lips, slowly pulling back.

“ah, fuck.” he breathed in slowly, eyes rolling back as you finally stroked his dick. you met his eyes definitively as you brought up your soft palm to your mouth. spitting on his soft skin, you brought it back to his angry shaft nestled against your thighs.

moving it up and down, your face dipped down to his neck to bite down on his pulse. instead of whimpering the way he was, his strong hand came to push your head harder against his tanned skin. he rasped, “harder.”

and you sunk your teeth into his skin with enough force to break his skin, just to find the man under you stutter and his white seed to coat your hand. his hips stuttered, eyes clenching shut as realization set in, “f-fuck. shit hah, i came?”

growing cocky at the way he came undone, you bit down a teensy bit harder. until you felt the sweet taste of iron on your lips and you pulled back to see a small droplet of blood beading at his neck. but before you could apologize, zoro noticed your crimson hued lips. pulling you towards him, he revered in the sweet metallic tang of his blood against your tongue. madman.

the sportsman hummed against you as he pulled your sore hips upwards and positioned his cock to nudge your slit ever-so-slowly.

“mmph, zo–” you tried to speak but his mushroom tip got caught against your clit so deliciously. moaning, he guided his dick to finally push past your hole and your jaw went slack at the sinful stretch.

hair sweaty and clinging to your skin, your head was thrown back as he pistoled his dick in with slow circular motion of his hips, and you tried to ground himself by digging your nails into his shoulders. zoro grinned, his canine on display unabashed, “feel good?”

your jaw slacked open, just for nothing to come forth other than half-coherent jumbles of his name as his tip kissed your sugary sweet spots with the urgency of a madman. shallow thrusts into your cunt only resulted in persistent prodding of his tip against your g-spot. his thumb pressed debauched words to your clit as your hips moved on their accord, with only one goal: to forget anything but his ungodly thrusts into your rueful cunt.

“feel s’good, zo. feel so, so good hah mhph–” you babbled, nodding as he moved your hips up and down to fill you up and leave you empty over and over and over again. a hand snaked upwards to pull at your roots, tipping your head back so that he could sink his teeth and brand up your soft skin just over the column of your throat.

“feel good?” he repeated, eyes almost crossing over at the crimson mark on your neck. if you felt like you were losing sanity, there was no need to feel lonely cause zoro trailed not farther behind. he laughed, bringing you down harder on his shaft, “feel good, baby? does my girl feel good?”

you nodded, eyes clenching shut as his cock massaged your gummy walls and his thumb tortured your poor, aching clit so well.

the familiar feeling built within you again, like a fire that burnt you to a crisp from within. your walls spasmed, head thrown back, drooling as roronoa zoro made it his life’s purpose to fuck you as hard as he could. to a point, where, you felt like he was just holding back to not break you.

“l-look at me, angel.” his hand squished your cheek mercilessly, pulling your face down just to press a mocking peck to your pouty, drooling lips and laugh when you jolted from the orgasm, “oh my g-god, zoro! fuck aah, hah shit shit shit.”

you slumped forward, sweaty forehead pressed to his heaving chest while he continued to fuck into your overused cunt. his thrusts grew weaker – erratic – before he painted your walls white.

“shit, baby.” the man laughed, his chest vibrating from the stuttered falsetto, “one more?”

“zo…” and the way you looked up at him so teary-eyed, shaking your head no. another challenge?

so now, of course zoro had you pressed in such a mean mating press, mumbling against your swollen kiss-bitten lips, “you’re doing so well, baby. ‘m so proud of my girl.”

“y-yeah?” you stuttered out, batting your tear-stained eyelashes so well that zoro couldn’t help but lap at the tear-drops cascading down your cheek, “mhm, course angel. take one more for me, can you?”

you nodded as if you had a choice.

his chest pressed up against yours, broad hand pulling your knees so far high so that he could plunge in and out of you so very easily. zoro panted with every slow drag of his shaft against your addictive, sugar-sweet walls because every small movement seemed to set you alight. your cunt grabbed at him hungrily, clutching him so tightly as if you refused to let him go.

managing a few more thrusts, he brought your weak hand upto his throat and pressed your hand onto his pulse. you stared at him, wide-eyed, before pressing harder. as your soft hand pushed harshly against his pulse, zoro pushed into your heat harder with a low whimper.

his hips sputtered as splashes of white painted your walls all over again.

the sportsman heaved, dipping his sweaty face down to the crook of your neck and pressing his body weight on yours. after what seemed like eons of just catching up his breath, zoro slowly pulled out and you gasped at his absence.

“are you okay?” he pressed a chaste kiss to your collarbone before trailing upwards and pressing another to your cheek. your muscles went slack under him, soreness creeping up the tendrils of your flesh as you fluttered opened your eyes, “’m tired.”

“already?” the man grinned, licking a soft stripe up your jaw. your weak hands pushed him away, groaning, “already?!”

“sorry, c’mere.” settling beside you in the cramped seat, he pulled you to his chest. humming faintly as his fingers softly caressed the damp tressed and you melted against the feel of his warm skin against yours.

the soft pitter-patter of the rain against the windows quietened, the morning mist hovering around the car like some forbidden protector and dew clung helplessly to leaves in the field. zoro pulled you closer to himself, his shallow breath against your forehead and his soft fingertips massaging your sore hips, “i think i love you.”

“you think?” your eyes fluttered open, trailing up softly to take in his peaceful expression. you bit the inside of your cheek, stomach churning as you dug your cheek against his chest and nodded, “i think i love you too.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

11th of november,
12:01 a.m.

“go on,” you shoved the cupcake in his direction, the candle light flickering softly and barely holding out against his stuttered breath, “for real?”

“hm,” you nodded, “make a wish, zo.”

“i don’t even have a religion.” he mumbled and you pinched the taut skin of his bicep in retaliation, “jus’ do it.”

“okay, fine. here goes nothing.” he closed his eyes. eyebrows bunching up in concentration and high cheekbones coloured orange from the weak flame. a moment passed by as the two of you stayed huddled on his bed, him praying and you looking at him.

a soft breath and the flame went out. when he opened his eyes, you smiled at him, “what did you wish for?”

“nothing,” he replied softly, calloused fingers interlocking with yours, “think i have everything i could ever need already.”

“happy birthday, zo.” you pecked him and pulled back, but he pulled you back to him.

knock, knock, knock.

“are you both done?” perona knocked at the door, “everyone’s waiting for you out, idiot.”

the next morning your twitter was flooded with the same blurry photo of you kissing zoro at his birthday party.

@/roronoaswifeyy said: yOU TWO ARE MY ROMAN EMPIRE OMG!!!
@/sweatytoenails asked: IS THIS ANOTHER PR STUNT?11 OMG I CANNOT TAKE ANOTHER BREAK-UP.
@/boaboaboa said: GUYS I THINK THIS PICTURE IS LEGIT, SOMEONE SAW THEM GO ON A ROAD-TRIP TOO

@/monkeydluffyofficial: very proud of zoro to be able to pull such a pretty woman without showering for days on end ❤️😃
@/dailycelebgossip: BREAKING: two-times grand slam winner and current number #1, roronoa zoro confirmed to be going out with his former flame!

@/vinsmokesanjiofficial: we will be releasing an official statement, until then PLEASE STOP TAGGING ME, YOU’RE BLOWING UP MY PHONE. AND @/ynln ANSWER MY CALLS.
@/nami_bizconmgmt: like@/vinsmokesanjiofficial said, please wait for the official statement and @/realroronoazoro PICK UP MY CALLS.

zoro wrapped a strong arm around your waist. sleep lingered in his eyes, and the pattern of the pillow case was imprinted onto his skin instead, “what’re you reading?”

you giggled, “people are losing their mind over the fact that we’re dating.” you looked over your shoulder, “can’t believe a PR stunt got us here.”

“oh, about that.” he mumbled, “nami never asked me to do that, i was just feeling bold that day. paid off pretty well though, didn’t it?”

“huh?” your eyes widened, words sinking in at a much slower rate, “HUH?”

“what?”

“HUH?”

“what?” he repeated with a grin, “it worked, didn’t it?”

“YOU ASSHOLE!” you pushed at him and he just held you tighter against his chest, “mhm, love you too.”

ladies and gentlemen, this is your friendly reminder to not go back to your ex by the way! they don't deserve you and aren't roronoa zoro!

Notes:

i cannot believe this has come to an end!! im so so grateful for anyone who loved this. thankyou so much you guys!