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pauking5 · 6 months

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my heart calls your name

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x reader

Genre: modern life mutual pining, friends to lovers, there's spice, smut, fluff, Zoro is a normal being with feelings and reader has personality

Word count: 20.1k+ (new recount)

Part 1

A/N: This is the sequel to New Year, New Me :) Firstly, I would suggest reading Part 1 before this one. Secondly, I started working on this as soon as I finished the first part and it has been a wip for 3 months. It was supposed to be a Valentine's gift but my writing went into a slump. But, I pushed through and wrote it. It went through so much editing, simply because I wanted to get Zoro as right as possible. He's everything to me so I wanted to give you an almost perfect piece of him.

Lastly, prepare for a long rollercoaster of everything. Literally everything.

Now playing: Did It Again - Shakira, we can't be friends - ariana grande, Sometimes - MUNA, Eres Mia - Romeo Santos, Only Love Can Hurt Like This - Paloma Faith, All Night - Beyonce, La La Lost You - NIKI, pretty boy - M2M

(because I couldn't pick just one song :') )

Early morning of January 1st

Heels and green-haired man on your arm, you walked around looking for a place to eat in.

The sand between your toes felt warm, welcoming to the first glimmering rays of sun. The sea just as excitedly splashing on the shore to wash away the old and bring new tides afloat.

Though early, the air buzzed with the atmosphere of the previous night as faint music was still playing from houses nearby.

You passed by multiple cafes and diners but they all closed early in the morning rushing to go on holiday. Every knock on the door was met with an apologetic smile, sending you out to venture further down the beach in hopes of finding at least a vendor that was still selling food.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, you spotted a restaurant that was still open. Today's menu was plastered out on a board outside with the schedule that said they're still serving for a bit. Just enough to grab a bite.

Picking out a table overlooking the shimmering azure sea, you went to pull out a chair when Zoro stopped you to do it for you. Shaking your head with a smile at his gentlemanly mannerisms, you sat down as he pushed it closer to the table before sitting down on the opposite side.

You scoured the menu, stomach twisting in hunger at all the food combinations. Salmon on a bed of baked wedges, mussels boiled in white wine, even your usual chicken tenders - this place had everything. It was hard to pick just one thing, but you had to make up your mind before your insides started digesting themselves.

Zoro didn't have it any easier than you. He perched the menu in one hand while the other sat on his chin as he contemplated what looked awfully like the drinks page. From the way he bit his lip in thinking and the way his sleeves were messily made up to his elbow, he himself looked appetizing enough for you.

"Something tells me you're not that hungry," he flashed you a knowing smirk under the pretense that he was looking at beverages.

"I am," you stated, sheepishly diverting your eyes back to your own menu.

"Then why are you browsing me instead of today's special?"

At that you closed your menu flat and sat back, folding your arms over your chest.

So, audacity is indeed a manly thing.

"You are scrumptious, I'll give you that," you admitted, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Only that?" he wiggled his eyebrows from behind his menu and you couldn't help but break into a giggle at his playful behaviour.

Is this the same man I drank a whole bottle of champagne with last night? I'm pretty sure he slept less than I did but he seems more energetic than anyone could ever be this early.

Interesting man.

"We'll see," you said, pulling your lips into a thin line to prevent a grin that would give away most of your thoughts about him that were, let's say, more than scrumptious could entail.

The waiter came over and took your order with a little flirting around you. Though sweet in his remarks, you had to admit he had nothing on the man sitting in front of you. But, you engaged in it simply because you wanted to gauge an innocent reaction out of him. And you did.

Seeing Zoro's hand tighten on the tissue box like it was one of his mortal enemies, you smiled internally. So, he's territorial too. Poor paper crunched under the strength of his fist, knuckles white from making sure no corner escaped its crumpling demise.

Once the waiter was gone with your orders, he let go and leaned back in his seat looking out at the sea.

Your eyes landed on him accidentally, being met with a different side of him. One so different from the man you were used to seeing so rough and isolated in his corner at the club. Because right now, he looked so at peace, like this was his natural habitat - close to the sea, spirit dancing in the glimmer of the sun with the golden sands in the background.

The soft morning breeze caressed through his green locks, moving them in calm waves mirroring the ones out on the shore. His golden earrings jingled around each other like they were singing their own tune cradled in the arms of the wind.

His shirt was now fully dry from your late night shenanigans in the sea, with a few more buttons let loose giving you a peek of his tanned chest. Palm curled around his chin, looking out into the all blue, there was not a thought harbored behind those deep brown eyes.

A heavenly dream walking planet Earth.

The small twinkle reflecting in the corner of his eye made you look out to the water too, curious as to what was so fascinating out there. Though this time, it was his turn to sneak a peek at you while you weren't looking.

His jacket was still snugly wrapped around you, long sleeves neatly rolled up to the cusp of your forearms. Your hair was thrown in a messy bun with a few loose curls falling over your collar bones. Though tired circles rimmed your eyes from staying up with him the night before, talking about everything and nothing at all, your lips were pulled into a soft smile. As if you had the most restful sleep. In his arms of all places.

And that made something bloom in his chest. Something so unknown yet so familiar, almost like the anticipation of what could be if he let his walls down. Only god knew that he was ready to let them all fall down if this was the beginning of something good. Something that he's been waiting for a long time.

But he had to give it time. Rushing into anything ruined everything. Deep down in his gut, in the place he trusted his instincts the most, he had a feeling this was worth waiting for.

It wasn't long until your food arrived. After a long debate, you settled on a creamy shrimp pasta because who doesn't like pasta? You could eat pasta at any time of the day and your stomach would thank you. Although, Zoro's fried chicken wings looked so much more inviting for some reason.

Maybe it was the way his eyes closed in delight at the taste on barely his first bite or how he gobbled on them with all the sauce streaming down his lips like they were the very essence of immortality. But those wings looked divine.

He saw you ogling his plate as you mindlessly poked a shrimp around and was about to ask if you wanted one when you just reached out and stole one. You dipped it quickly in the sauce before his plate and stuffed the whole thing in your mouth, sighing in the same delightful manner he did.

Those were some amazing chicken wings.

"I was just about to offer you one."

"Food tastes so much better when you steal it away," you said, licking your fingers off the leftover sauce.

They were just your regular chicken wings. Deep-fried and golden, meat coming off the bones so tender. But something about them being placed so neatly on his plate made them taste so much better than they would have if you ordered them yourself. Or maybe it was just the fact that he munched on them so hungrily.

Whatever it was, you were glad you grabbed one and left him starring back at you dumbfounded.

You turned back to your pasta and forked a shrimp. Before it could reach your mouth, a firm hand wrapped around your wrist and your fork was redirected to Zoro's lips instead. He bit the shrimp off of it, imitating the sound of delight you previously let out after stealing his chicken wing.

"Hey! That was the shrimp I kept for last."

"That's too bad," he said with his mouth full. "It looked too good to be left for last."

"Then I will have this one," you stole another chicken wing. "And this one and that one and-"

"Then these little shrimps are mine!" he took your whole plate of pasta away leaving you with the stolen wings hanging in the air.

That's how you ended up sitting next to each other sharing your dishes together. You kept poking at his as he did with yours, thing that became a custom for you in the coming month.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in between, they were all consumed and enjoyed together in each other's presence.

Among a few other things.

Grocery runs whenever your fridge was empty, since he liked crashing at your place more often than you could count.

Movie nights spent debating all the romcoms you could find where he would give you a piece of his mind on how much of a douchebag the main lead was and yelling at the tv 'stop being an idiot and go get the girl' on the usual like he lived for it. The neighbors ended up at your door sometimes, asking you to have mercy on their ears and keep it down.

Whenever romantic scenes came on screen, your fingers would always find each other on top of your plush couch, tangling together just lightly, barely above a soft brush. But he would never admit that he was a romantic at heart. Not even when he smiled to himself when the main characters kissed. Not even when his hazy eyes, soft hands and raising heartbeat gave all that away. Not even when your own beat wildly, inviting him in.

You even went to the gym together a few times, though that endeavor ended as quickly as it started.

"Come on, push it. Bend your knee more. One more time!"

"I'm really trying to, but this is heavy as fuck!" you pushed the leg press feeling the weight thrash your ham strings apart.

"Your body will thank you tomorrow."

"Not if I die today," you gritted out.

"Tell you what. You do three more and you can flip me off all you want."

"I can do that without breaking my knees. What's in it for you?"

"You grant me a wish when I ask for it."

"What kind of wish?" you perked an eyebrow up in suspicion.

"You'll find out when the time comes."

Determined to get your rights of the bet fair and square, you pushed with all your might and completed one. With some struggle and curses, you managed one more push before you felt your knees give in, accepting defeat.

That was probably your last leg press forever since you deemed it the demon's machine.

Your legs dropped like dead weight on the floor, heaving breaths as if you ran a full marathon. Disappointment hit you that you lost and had to honour a bet, while the man beside you broke into the biggest grin you've ever seen on his face since you've met. It felt magnetic to see him like that, a small nudge pulling at your own lips. One that you tried to hide. What loser is happy when his opponent wins?

"You owe me now."

If he was a girl he just might have squealed. He was literally beaming with joy.

"Spare me the pride bullshit and give me water."

He handed you his own bottle as he crouched down next to you. Patting the sweat on the side of your face with a towel, he made sure to swipe dry even at your baby hairs that were sticking up on all sides.

When you told him you wanted to try working out with him, though you weren't big on physical exercise, he was over the moon. Studying you with gleaming eyes as you laid on the bench, drenched in sweat beyond the human normal, with your cheeks filled with water to the brim, you were a sight to behold.

He knew you wouldn't believe him if he told you, thinking it was just another one of his flirty lines, but you were glowing brighter than the bright sun outside. That golden glow that gave plants and flowers light and warmth to glow had absolutely nothing on you.

"I'm proud of you," he uttered out of nowhere catching you off guard.

You turned and just looked at him. He wore his gear but did not make a move from beside you the whole time you were at the gym. He trained you on his usual routine, toned down to your own pace, but it turned out to be way harder than he made it look in all the times you were there to just spot him.

He made working out look like an art. Effortless. But he refused to lift a finger for his own gain, set to just be your own spotter for the day.

He was there coaching you through it all the way. When you felt like you couldn't do more, he helped you put a little bit more into it with little encouragements like these. An I'm proud of you or Keep going or You've got this, muttered as he corrected your form or changed your weights.

"You're gonna have to carry me home," you breathed out, stretching your aching limbs. "You know that, right?"

"I know," he accepted his demise. "That will be my exercise."

"Are you saying I'm as heavy as the dumbbells you're lifting?"

"You said it not me."

"You little shit."

You were the biggest homebody that's ever homebodied but somehow he managed to do the impossible and get you out of the house.

As romantic as the outings seemed sometimes, he acted like it was just two good friends hanging out.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And that bugged you. Because this wasn't friendly behaviour.

Friends don't take you out on a walk at 2 in the morning when you can't find sleep, twirling you around to let loose in the dead of night, with a lone streetlight lighting your way.

Friends don't hold your hand as jazz music plays in some edgy café you wanted to try, playing with your fingers that always end up caged between longer, muscular ones as you talk over a steaming cup of coffee.

Friends don't look at you like that.

Like you could be more, mean more, feel more.

Maybe you were being selfish, but the more time you spent with him the harder it became to part ways. Even if you saw each other the next day, it just wasn't enough for you. You started wishing he would stay a little more. Hold your hand a little more. Look at you a little more.

Then, ass slow January turned into warm February, your feelings evolved and you craved to have him around in more than just one way. You wanted him in every way.

Slowly but surely, and a little against your will, you found yourself falling for the green-haired guy you kissed on new year's.

And boy, you fell hard.

Present Day

Valentine's Day.

Oh, how you dreaded this one too. Maybe even more than New Year's.

Maybe it was the over-exaggerated displays of affection from strangers on the street, plastering kisses on each other's swollen lips like they would die without getting into a heated make-out session every five minutes.

Or the way the florists had heart-shaped balloons tied to bouquets mixed in pinks, whites and reds in every single window.

Or the fact that most chocolate was on the best sale price you could get it just because it was a special occasion.

All of it was just a ploy to say love exists and that the world will stop at nothing to capitalize the living hell out of it.

But that was just part of the reason you carried an anti-romantic persona around today. This time you had a reason. There was a love interest on your horizon and you were annoyed that he was too lost drifting in his own world to notice how enamored you were becoming with him day by day.

It was crazy how fast you fell for him. For Zoro.

You promised yourself that fast love wouldn't be the norm anymore after what happened the last time. That you would take your time to keep it steady, consistent and cautious. That you would protect your heart well this time.

Until he crash landed into your life, ripping the safety net that you've threaded for so long at the seams so skillfully, little by little, until you were free-falling into his own. A safety-net that didn't want to let you go once it caught you in its hold.

You needed him. As simple as that. The flirting, the sweet-talking, the teasing. Every time you saw him it was all just Cupid's hidden stash of poison arrows aimed and shot deeply into your heart. To make you fall in deeper into an unfamiliar ocean where you couldn't see the top of the water, sinking in the endless stream without a way out.

You needed him. Before you would go and make a fool of yourself and ruin the great bond you already had for some feelings. Before he would sew his existence onto your soul, your conscience, your very being completely and it would become too much to bear. Too much to live without.

You needed him. To stop yearning. To stop wanting. To see how loving him could feel like.

The digital clock on your bedside table read 2:30 pm. You sat in bed most of the day, whizzing through tv channels faster and faster with every romance movie playing, every news channel talking about this wretched day and how lovers planned to spend it, every love song playing on the radio.

Romance was everywhere and you couldn't do anything to escape it. Just hearts and chocolate and red everywhere.

Sick of the world and the pure existence of love, you shut off the tv, throwing the remote to the other end of the bed and watched the seconds on the clock trickle away, wishing for this day to finally come to an end.

You flipped on your back, letting out a long sigh as the empty ceiling gave way to thoughts of him again. Sighing, you closed your eyes trying to think of something else. Anything else. The wide beachfront, the azure sea, the warm sand. But all roads led back to him. All those things were connected to him now.

You kind of expected him to make some plans with you. Even if it was something as small as going to get coffee and walk around. Or watch another romcom and dissect it. Though you knew he wasn't one to do things like that on the go. Not on a day like this.

It wasn't even a minute that he crossed your mind and your phone screen lit up with his name. Cursing telepathy thinking and the universe for loving to bask in your misery, you picked it up finding a surprisingly nervous Zoro on the other line.

"What's up-"

"You, me, tonight. Pick you up at 5?" he rambled quickly and out of breath.

"What?" you asked, trying to make sense of his words.

"I want to take you out tonight," he repeated, a bit more composed than the first time.

"That sounded a little better," you smiled, turning around in bed to flip on your belly.

"Can I take you out tonight?" he asked again, voice way softer and determined than the usual playfulness you grew accustomed to.

What happened to overly cocky Zoro?

"I don't know," you drew out, playing with the hem of the duvet to smoothen the material out, pointer finger spelling the outline of his name absentmindedly on top of it. "Can you?"

You heard him sigh exasperatedly on the other side as you took your sweet time replying. A little payback for waiting so long would hurt no one.

"Jesus, woman. I really want to take you out someplace nice tonight so get dressed as comfortable as you'd like and answer the door at 5. That sound better?"

"It sounded great. I'll be waiting."

"Okay." You could literally hear him smile through the phone. "See you at 5."

"See you at 5."

The call ended and you stared blankly at the ceiling again, hugging the phone to your chest. His words started seeping into your brain and the realization that he finally asked you out on what was possibly an official date made you reach for the pillow closest by to scream into.

"OH MY GOD I'M GOING ON A DATE," you yelled. "Okay, play it cool. Play it cool," you took deep breaths to calm down before something else threw you into panic. "What the fuck am I gonna wear?"

You ran to your closet, throwing it open. Racking through it in a haste since you didn't have the luxury of time, you threw whatever you could find that looked somewhat put together on the bed. Clothes came flying on and off your body as you did a whole catwalk show in front of the mirror only to end up disappointed with every single one of them. Huffing out in desperation at the mess around your room, you came to the conclusion that none of the outfits looked fit for the occasion.

You needed something to make his eyes pop out of his sockets. Something that would make him see what he's missing and to take that extra step to you. Something...

Tapping your cheek in thinking, you spun around to your closet with a gasp. You ran back to it and sorted out through more hangers, digging all the way into the back until you finally found it.

A dress you bought specifically in case you ever got a date that was worth putting in the effort for.

The heart stealer, you called it.

A flowy deep-red satin dress, falling just below your knees. It had a sweetheart neckline and straps to hold your jewels better than a bra ever could, the bodice hugging your middle perfectly too. Elegant, sexy and comfy, all in one. Plus, the ends of it twirled so nicely every time you spun around, imitating a petticoat effect, and the length even complimented your height.

She's the one, you smiled.

The time on your phone read 4:57 pm, three minutes before your agreed pick-up time. You've been struggling to put your earrings on for a while now and were growing slightly nervous, thing that wasn't really helping as your hands shook with a burst of impatience. Putting the earrings down before you accidentally pierced your ear, you let out a breath and looked in the mirror. Which made it all worse.

Your eyes jumped around to analyze the way your hair was down and curled unevenly, if you squinted, to how your eyeliner on the right looked slightly more winged than the one on the left. Even the dress straps sat on your shoulders a little too uncomfortably. Suddenly, your confidence faltered and you questioned everything about your outfit.

Is the dress too comfortable?

I'm underdressed, aren't I?

Where is he even taking me?

I look like a walking cherry. Why do I have so much red on me-

A soft knock echoed through your apartment. Your date was here. Taking a deep breath for reassurance and fixing yourself in the wall mirror one more time, you let it be and moved to open the door.

At the door, you were met with the man that plagued your every waking thought. He wore a loose shirt that looked vintage with a few buttons left open and casual dark navy blue tailored pants, falling loosely from his waist. They gave the impression he was taller than he actually was. The way he dressed without as much as batting an eye, you would raid his wardrobe any day.

He leaned forwards to place a courting kiss on your cheek, the closeness engulfing you in his musky vanilla scent you grew so fond of. You could scent him in a crowd of people like a wolf looking for his lost mate. His lips lingered enough to have blood rush to your cheek, feeling it singe as soon as he pulled away the slightest. It surprisingly made you feel calm, forgetting what you were even stressing about in the first place.

Shaking yourself out of the daze, you stepped aside and invited him inside. Something in his hands completely stole your eyes away from him before he even got the chance to offer it to you.

"ARE THOSE MILKA HEARTS?!" you shrieked as he meekly handed you the chocolates. Your heart raced at the gesture, cradling the box closer.

"I have never seen anyone be so loyal to just one brand of chocolate. It's literally all you eat."

"Because they are amazing and they're not too sweet or too expensive. They have so many flavors, even biscuits, ice cream, hot chocolate. Anything you could ever dream of that could be made out of chocolate, they have it. They're just right and perfect," you smiled as you spun around with the box held closely to your chest like it was your most prized possession, the ends of your dress slightly swirling around you.

"Oh, I know," he chuckled at your obsession with the chocolates. "You literally lick the hot chocolate mug clean after you drink it."

"Can't blame me for having a sweet tooth. Thank you for these." You placed them on the counter, deciding against opening the box just yet.

"Do I get something in return for delivering them to you?"

You saw his plan from a mile away - he was chasing a kiss, this time coming from your own initiative. Before you thought it through, your lips were on their way to connect with his cheek in a short but sweet peck.

"How does this do?"

Before you let go, he tensed and you felt it, grinning mischievously on the inside. If he thought you would shy away, especially tonight, he had another thing coming. Two can play this tango.

"Your sweetness is rubbing off on me."

He's saying that as if you didn't catch the slight twitch of his lips and the faintest tint of pink on the tip of his ears before he turned back to being his serious self.

"Is that such a bad thing now?" you countered.

"To be assessed," he piped up, leaning against the counter as he watched you pace around the apartment to finish getting ready.

"Tease."

"You love it."

"I actually hate it."

"You're such a bad liar."

"Maybe, maybe not" you giggled to yourself.

Truth be told, you enjoyed his teasing a lot even if it was overwhelming sometimes. On most days, it made you forget your worries and he managed to pull a smile so genuine out of you that you didn't even know you had.

"You, uh... look nice by the way," he rubbed the back of his neck, taking in your attire from top to bottom properly this time.

Nice wasn't even the word he wanted to use. Beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, those sounded more like what he had in mind. The more he looked at you in that red dress, the more he had the urge to close the distance between you, press you against the mirror you paced in front of and smudge that cherry tint off your lips with his own, all the while his hands tangled in your curls.

That... that felt like more than what nice could ever encompass.

"Thank you," you said, the surprise present in your voice cracking him out of his thoughts. "So, what's the itinerary for tonight?"

"It's a secret."

"Is it now?"

"I want you to have a nice time and not overthink it too much. So, you'll just have to wait and see."

"Okay, mister Kinder Surprise. I'll just follow your lead on this one."

Normally, he would come up with an idea and you would plan out the itinerary down to the smallest detail. You weren't sure what he had in mind for today, but at least your outfits matched in comfy and classy levels.

Going back to the mirror, you took another look at yourself and realized he was right. You did look nice. You were just overthinking it. Funny how he already knows what sets you off from enjoying yourself.

Grabbing the earrings again, you tried putting one hoop in only to have it slide to the other side. The closing was just too narrow for your small ears and it annoyed you greatly. You were ready to just leave without them when Zoro stepped in the mirror frame next to you. He held his palm out to you looking at the earrings and you obliged with a sigh.

Placing your hair behind your ear, he wiggled the golden hoop around your ear lobe as you watched through the mirror. The proximity sent your heart thundering. You willed it to stop and take to a regular rhythm before he took note and teased you even more.

Looking for something else to focus on, you found his reflection in the mirror, holding the earring with utmost care and attention. Your eyes flew to his and the tug at his lower lip, the concentration on his face making you blush. He was determined to get those earrings on your ears no matter what.

"My ears are just too small for girly shit," you said, looking down to avoid his intense gaze.

"They're not. You're just a really impatient being when it comes to doing things properly for yourself," he said, successfully clipping the earring in. "There. See?" he tilted his head to look at you with that twinkling glint in his eye. "Pretty."

I could kiss your lips right now. And your eyes and your nose and your lips again. I don't think I could stop.

"Dork," you pushed him away, conscious that you were running behind on time. "Come on, I can't go out with only one earring in."

"Give me a second, Speedy Gonzales."

He put the other one in for you as well and rolled them around so they were both facing the same way.

"Look at you," he checked you out from head to your unheeled toes. "You look like you came out of a shop window."

"Oh, yeah? Which shop window?"

"The supermarket."

"I can change into my pajamas sooooo fast and you can just go out by yourself," you patted his chest grinning wickedly. "How does that sound?"

"Okay, okay. I'm just messing with you," he handed you your bag and held out his arm to you as a peace offering. You rolled your eyes at him and put your heels on using the sturdiness of his arm for balance and fixed yourself up one more time. "Ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

He walked you out front to his car, opening the door for you as he held his arm to his chest like a butler while you did a little curtsy before you got in. A little running joke between you since you always ended up being the passenger princess. His passenger princess.

Everything about his car was so Zoro. He drove a dark green jeep, convertible when needed but currently patched up since the rainy weather of early spring was more frequent now. A raspberry Charmander air freshener dangled from the rearview mirror, where you put it on your last grocery run. He constantly argued with you over the fact that its too cute for his car.

"My car is a military tank. Not the Kids' Express," he would say.

"If anything, it's giving the Fun Express now."

But you knew he silently loved it. He had a habit of poking it with his finger each time he got in the car so it would spin around, spreading the fresh smell of berries around.

He got in the car placing the key in ignition and poked it. You smiled turning to look out the window. Kid.

As he drove, the scenery changed from the chaotic city jungle of cars evading rush hour to the more peaceful part of the coastline. The sun was just starting to set, bright orange and yellow painting the sky in lively hues. Some pop song played on the radio making the whole scene look even more tropical.

Zoro rolled the windows down, letting the air flow through and put the song a little louder. You caught up on this habit of his pretty early on - if he heard a song he liked he would make sure you knew it too. Even when you were sitting in heavy traffic and everybody looked at you weirdly. If he knew the song, he might even mumble a few lines with a grin. That made your little crush on him even stronger.

Hope that you will wait for me You'll see that you're the only one for me ~

The lyrics blared over the speakers, emotional yet comforting about falling in love. He leaned back in his seat and snuck a few glances at you. Your hair was blowing in the wind, falling on the back of your seat. Arm laid flat on top of the window frame tapping along to the beat, you looked at the view of the seaside with a smile on your lips. Your other hand sat on your knee, a little too lonely for his liking.

All I really want is to hold you tight Treat you right, be with you day and night Baby all I need is time ~

Adjusting a hand on the wheel, his other one stretched to get a hold of yours, intertwining them together to the beat of the song. Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden contact turning warm atop your thigh. Looking down at your entwined hands, you noticed how his thumb covered yours in guarding, a routine you grew familiar with every time they met in the same space. His eyes were trained on the road but the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips was solely directed at you.

You will be the death of me, Roronoa Zoro.

Parking the car turned difficult considering everyone was out and about tonight. You barely found a spot somewhere next to the beach. Once parked, Zoro got off and came to your side extending a hand to help you down, heels landing safely on the sidewalk.

You were getting a little impatient and you hoped your nerves wouldn't get the best out of you when the air was still so clear between you. But the questions itched on the back of your tongue until you couldn't hold them back anymore.

"So, what's the plan? How much longer are you gonna keep me in the dark?"

He turned to you with a mysterious grin, debating on whether he should tell you or not.

Someone seems to be enjoying themselves at the expense of my sanity.

"The plan for tonight is just fun."

Well that explains everything I needed to know.

"The amusement park up ahead kind of gave that part away," you pointed out to the Ferris wheel bathed in strobe lights, standing tall ahead in the middle of dozens of games and food stands.

Walking side by side, you followed the crowds of couples into the mayhem still suspicious of what the plan actually entailed. Your gaze wandered down to the ground where you found another thing that calmed you. Unknowingly, your steps matched each other's in a balanced rhythm as you followed his lead. Your lips pursed to hide another small smile.

"That's not the only thing I have planned out for tonight," he informed you, checking his watch. "First, let's go loosen up a little."

Your first stop on tonight's itinerary was the club where you first met. It's been a few months since you both laid eyes on the other, circling the dance floor for nights on end to make your mutual interest known.

Months since your little crush born out of seeking real love took off and made space for feelings. Feelings that nowadays chased you to the brink of madness. You could only hope a trip down memory lane would settle them and give you confirmation that your heart isn't tangled in yet another unrequited love story.

It was Latino beats night. The extended terrace was cleared for an outdoor dance floor, stretching all the way to the end of the beach touching the overlapping waves. Fairy lights hung above from tree to tree, warming up the atmosphere in a golden glow. The drinks at the bar had mini red umbrellas to match the theme.

A bartender came to serve you as soon as you sat down at the bar, pointing you to all the Valentine's recommendations. The cheesy names on the cocktails made a shiver run down your spine in repulse so you turned to the normal range instead since you already knew that one inside out.

"What would you like to order?"

Some sweet liquid courage would do me well tonight.

"A piña colada for me," you ordered.

"A mocktail of that for me," asked Zoro, almost as quickly as your own order rolled off your lips.

Mocktail? That sounds unlike Zoro.

Lifting a curious eyebrow at his request, your eyes narrowed on him for a quick mood scan. You barely saw it but it was definitely there. Tension. He was on edge, rapping his fingers on the wooden bar restlessly, foot tapping to the tempo of the current song playing. Impatient sounds more like it.

"Not drinking today?"

"I will. Just not yet," he smirked, as if he had more opportunities to drink lined up later. Well, frankly, you didn't know what followed later, so you asked for more glasses of alcohol.

The song changed to a slow, sensual bachata as the crowd took to the dance floor. Some pairs looked experienced, busting moves in perfect sync with the strings like this was their regular night out to serve some class. They must be fun at parties.

Others could barely get their feet coordinated, unable to decide who would be the one to lead. The changing rhythm, slow at first then rising faster, had them spinning out of control, gripping onto each other for dear life as they laughed it off and tried again together.

Your relationship with Zoro was kind of like that - uncoordinated in your dance to reach each other's heart with normal steps. Every time one got way too close to the other you took detours, going back to square one. But you kept trying. Together.

Zoro saw you looking at the couples with a longing he's seen before, during your first nights at the club. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that longing himself though he didn't know how to express it. But a tight-lipped curl of your lips at the ground had him pulling on your hand in an instant, eyes motioning to the dance floor. Confused at first, you slowly got a rough idea of what he was suggesting and shook your head.

"I'm not drunk enough to dance yet," you lied, trying to get him off your case. You were too sober to trust your heart that close around him just yet.

"Isn't that the beauty of it?"

The tension washing off of him just moments ago wore off into mischief and playfulness. There he was. Your Zoro.

"Are you sure that was a mocktail?" you quipped, suspicious at his sudden change in mood.

"Yes, it was a mocktail." The look he gave you, full of intensity and certainty was enough to tell you he was dead serious. "I just really want to dance with you."

"Okay, fine."

His hand grasped yours as you hopped off the bar stool, pulling you deeper into the moving crowd. Once he found a spot, he tugged you to him in a twirl. Your back landed against his chest, his deep, steady breaths falling right at the tip of your ear. Swaying from side to side, his palms wandered down to your own, lacing your fingers together, squeezing lightly. His touch turned your insides sticky with something akin to desire. His familiar scent overpowered your senses, musky vanilla turning tropic from that mocktail he had, lingering to the depths of your soul. His presence behind you, assertive, dominating and reassuring at the same time, lit up your whole body with fiery tingles.

He lifted your arms up, getting impossibly closer to you as the pads of his fingers reached up to yours, dancing down to your shoulders in a flow of their own where they fell with the rise of the chorus, briskly spinning you to face him. He placed your hands on his shoulders as you stepped back and forth, bouncing up and down to the music, eyes solely trained on you and no one else, nothing else.

In the synergy of the moment, he finally saw you.

It took him a while to understand but you were his rhythm. He couldn't lose you after he finally found it - the frequency of your heart beating to guide his own. If he lost track of you now, he would lose himself again. Among all the other hearts beating in hundreds of other tempos next to yours, he only wanted to move with yours.

You swayed right a little too hard, leg flying next to his hip. His arm shot out to catch it as the on on the small of your back pulled you close, breaths mingling in a flutter harmonious to the one in your stomach, multiplying it tenfold.

Upon releasing your leg, his hand trailed over the thin material of your dress, from your thigh all the way to your waist, where it got a better grip. One that wouldn't let you sway that hard again. Goosebumps burned on the path he carved into your skin and you found yourself closing your eyes on a shaky exhale.

You were shuddering in his hold and he barely did anything but hold you. When you opened them, he was still eye to eye with you, unmoving, patient, waiting for you.

He drowned out everyone else. The chatter, the music, the alcohol pumping through your veins. You couldn't take your eyes off him even if you tried and frankly, you didn't want to.

No words needed to be said as you let your bodies do the talking. The smaller the space grew between you, the simpler things seemed. It was clear as day your heart kept calling for him in a million ways and you denied it enough.

You wanted to have his eyes on you at all times. To have his lips all to yourself. To get the confirmation that he felt exactly what you felt. That he wanted all these things you wanted too.

He spun you out, reeling you back in against his chest. He looked down at you. You looked up at him.

They were close - those damned lips of his. Pink and soft laying on pink and even softer. Just a breath away. Until he broke your gaze.

Whatever bubble you were in popped and all too suddenly, the reality hit you again. They weren't yours to kiss. They were no ones. Forbidden.

The music filtered in your ears way too loud. People bumped into you from all sides. It was too much in too little of a moment to drown in your insecurities again, when his warm touch asked for your attention and his eyes met yours again.

"Wanna get out of here?" he rasped in your ear.

"You read my mind."

The sky announced the coming of night, faint purple clouds flying above the blue. You headed to your next destination, the amusement park. Looking at all the attractions, you had your first pick on the bumpy cars. They were childish, but they were fun enough to pull you out of your misery. At least for a while.

Hopping into the rink, you were barely strapped into your bumper when he rammed into your back at full speed, rattling your seat hard. He really is a child. But you were a bigger child. You didn't hold back either, chasing and cornering him, only to crash straight into the front of his bumpy car, cackling like a maniac.

At one point he disappeared into the crowd of cars as the lights grew dimmer. Keeping your guard up for a sneak attack, you rounded the sidelines cautiously, trying to avoid being caught in the middle of other people's warfare. Just when you stopped to turn and search the rink again, he marched up to hit you from the side only for you to dodge it like a pro. His car rammed into the edge of the rink, jaw dropped in shock as you bellowed with laughter at him.

His driving pride got shaken a little from your bumpy car skills, but you were smiling again. That's all that mattered to him.

Once your time was up, you were pulled to another ride, this time of Zoro's pick. Knowing him, it would be something too adventurous and risky to ride. You realized where he was taking you way too late - the highest roller coaster in the area. Instantly, you shook his hand off, backtracking behind him. That thing looked like what nightmares are made of.

"Hell nah, I am not getting on that."

Thinking you had a choice was a mistake since he pulled a wildcard on you. A wildcard you wished you never agreed to in the first place if you knew it would come back to bite you in the ass.

"Remember that bet we had at the gym that you lost?" Motherfucker. "I think it's time you make that wish come true."

And to think he gave you the impression it would be an innocent wish back then. All men do is lie.

"That's not fair," you argued, trying to think of a way to convince him to use his wish on something else. Something that didn't involve your stomach switching places with your other organs. Coming empty handed, you slumped your shoulders like a child being denied their favourite toy and got in the line with him.

Your leg bounced up anxiously with each pair admitted for a ride in front of you. The screams of the people on the rollercoaster screeched in your ears. You took a gulp of air to calm your nerves just as Zoro's lips brushed to your ear out of nowhere, almost giving you a heart attack.

"Nothing's going to happen to you. I'll be there to hold your hand."

Is he taking the piss? Hold my hand? How about you hold your balls secure before I kick them to the fucking sky-

Your thoughts were interrupted when something clicked fixed around you. The straps to the ride seat. You squirmed around uncomfortably to find a better position that felt safer, but being in that seat itself was not safe in any way. The straps were safe and secure but not safe enough.

"Zoro, I'm getting off."

To your disappointment, the megaphone called out that the next cart was going up and the ride started moving. Despite having multiple piña coladas at the club to calm your nerves, you still felt the panic grip you a little and grabbed a tight hold of the security holds keeping you in place, shutting your eyes and praying that this torture would end sooner.

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice called out to you softer than you've ever heard it before, willing you to focus on him. "Look at me."

"No, thank you," you chuckled uneasily. "If I open my eyes I will see my impending doom," you continued, feeling your heart thrumming in your chest as the ascent began quicker than you expected it to.

"Then give me your hand."

"I want to smack you over the head with it." Tremors took over your hands slightly, aware of how high you were going. "Why did I agree to this?"

"Because you like keeping to your word and it's something I admire about you."

He does? Oh, that's sweet- Wait I'm still mad at him.

"Please don't give me the compliment bullshit right now," you groaned through deep breaths.

"It's true though," he said, keeping his calm composure.

You cracked one eye open at him to see him looking only at you, anchored to your eyes like you were his view of the safe harbor in the tempest, the eye of the storm far away from reaching you.

Suddenly, everything was fine. All was good. It was just you and him on the same boat going in the same direction. Nothing could rock your boat.

Until you felt the ride stop and the urge to look around grew and despite all efforts, you gave into it. You were standing on the highest point, overlooking the whole park. You stopped breathing just looking around at the point ahead on the horizon where the sky met the sea, surprised to see the moon and the twinkling stars peak through the cover of clouds. The view would've been spectacular if it wasn't a few seconds till the train would drop.

"No no no, don't look-" he tried to warn you before you did the opposite.

"WE'RE GONNA FUCKING DIE!" you screeched.

"-down."

"If we don't die now, I will kill you myself when we're back on the ground for choosing to make such a stupid wish. I swear to GOD-" you were cut off as the train fell down into the drop.

Against your wishes, you grabbed onto his hand and held on for dear life, screaming as loud as your lungs could let you. You let out everything you've been holding inside for the past month in one strong yell. Zoro let out a few surprising yelps too, holding tighter onto your hand. The whole thing was over and done with before you knew it and you found yourself actually enjoying it. Not one hundred percent but a good amount of you did.

All that work to curl your hair only to get a blow out when you got back to the ground. It stuck up all sides, curls dismantled from the sheer force of the drop but still standing. Your hands patted it down with a pout, making Zoro take the matter into his own hands, brushing through your hair to fix it. His hands felt so soothing on your scalp, taming your earlier rage at being dragged to that death trap.

"You acted all cool only to yelp like a school girl during the drop," you giggled, his yelps still fresh in your mind.

"No, I didn't," he argued.

"I think the people that sat behind us would beg to disagree. At least own up to the fact that you were a teeny tiny bit scared."

"I don't fear anything."

"Oh yeah? Look behind you."

"What could possibly be so scary behind me- WHAT THE FUCK!" he yelled as he came face to face with a person dressed as a clown, carrying around balloons. He almost punched them on impulse.

"I don't fear anything my ass," you looked at him as he put down his fist and apologized. Once he was certain they left, he straightened his posture and cleared his throat.

"I was just startled," he said, trying to assure you that the statement he made was true. But you got used to seeing through his bullshit.

"Sure you were. Wanna try the haunted house over there then?" you pointed to the shack where a few people just ran out from, some full on sobbing. A scream came from inside, his eyes going wide and that was all you needed to know. Roronoa Zoro did have fears.

"Absolutely not."

"You sure? Nothing's gonna happen to you. I can hold your hand," you teased him like he teased you before the rollercoaster ride.

"Did you say you want popcorn? I'm gonna go get us some popcorn," he laughed, looking for an excuse.

"Okay. Meet you by the benches?"

"Sure."

Walking around, you stumbled upon a long queue of couples lined up to go on the Ferris wheel clogging most of the circulation around the park. If you were being honest, the rollercoaster was much more fun than waiting for hours to see an overpriced five minutes coast view could ever be. Besides, you could drive up the road and see that for free too.

You walked around some more when one of the stands stopped you in your tracks - throwing darts. It wasn't the darts game itself that piqued your interest, but the fluffy beige bear smiling brightly, hanging above the targets. His brown eyes matched those of your green-haired man, warm chocolate infused with honey, too sweet not to stop and stare.

For some reason you found it really lonely sitting by itself up there. All the smaller prizes were won and replaced on the daily, but by the looks of it he's been there for a while, waiting for someone. No one seemed sharp enough to play the game to the end and take him home.

You wanted to take him home with you.

If only you had the darts talent running in your veins. The price for just a set of three darts was way too much and it took seven perfect shots in the bullseye of the targets to win the bear. Perks of having an amusement park next to one of the most popular beaches on the coast meant complicated games that no normal human could aspire to win.

Sparing it one last look that made your heart ache, you turned and went to sit on a bench, waiting for your date that just so happened to see you stop by the darts booth. More precisely, he saw that pout on your face as you looked at the bear hung up high above the targets when it clicked. You wanted that bear.

Zoro knew you wouldn't ask him to get it for you. You didn't like asking for things and he knew that you might not even accept it if he offered it. But the way your shoulders slumped as you walked away told him how much you wanted it.

Darts wasn't his best sport, but he was good with his aim and had a patience that could kneel most at his feet. So, he marched to the booth, placing the popcorn tubs to the side and started tracing his targets to see just what he was dealing with.

"Feeling lucky tonight?" asked the manager of the booth, a sly smile on his face at finding another victim.

Little shit. If only he knew Zoro had the power to send his little business into bankruptcy right at his fingertips. A grin of his own graced his features making the man's smile quiver at the seams.

"Oh, I'm feeling more than lucky."

He rolled up his sleeves showing he meant business and placed a wad of cash on the dirty table, picking up his first set of darts. He was dead set on getting you that bear no matter how much money he had to blow on throwing tiny arrows around.

Anything to not see that pout on your face ever again.

Shuffling your heels over the dust and rocks on the ground, you drew random patterns to busy yourself. A lot of things were weighing on your mind. You were questioning why you went out in the first place. To give this a chance, your brain told you.

To feel something, said your heart. Well, with Zoro, you felt the whole damn universe in one sitting.

There was no telling how this night would end anyways. But you were slowly starting to think Zoro ditched you there since it's been a while he left to look for popcorn. You sighed again, feeling your world tilt, when a pair of shoes stopped in front of you. You knew those shoes.

"I thought you left to get popcorn not to shake hands with the mayor-," you lifted your head up only to stop mid-sentence. Staring at him like he grew a third eye, you took in the way he balanced two tubs of popcorn under his arm and a big plushie in the other.

The fluffy bear.

"I did. They were out so I went to find another stand. And this is for you," he offered you the bear with a smile that made his dimple pop out.

That small indentation in his cheek that showed up when he puffed them on the inside, usually at times when he did something he was proud of. A pit you could hide in whenever you wanted to without him knowing.

"Buddy looked a little lonely up there," he added, tilting his head back to the booth behind him.

Looking into those plastic brown eyes, you took the bear and hugged it close to you. It was even fluffier than you thought a plushie could be. You snuggled into it noticing that it lightly caught his scent, besides the sugary theme park smell.

You teared up a little. Not out of sadness or anything, but because you were touched by the gesture. Because he noticed, which was a rare thing to come by nowadays. Zoro cared and he showed you time and time again, never once falling short to notice. To make you feel seen.

Sensing a change, he placed the popcorn down on the bench you were sitting on just moments ago, grabbing a gentle hold of your arms.

"Hey," he spoke softly, trying to reassure whatever storm pried onto you out of nowhere. His palms stroked your forearms up and down, earlier glee in his voice morphing into worry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you shook your head looking away. It was stupid to have a crying session right now of all times.

"You look like you're about to cry. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no! Gods, no. You didn't. You're amazing," you smiled. In an instant, your arms reached out to wrap around his waist hugging him as tight as you hugged the fluffy bear.

"Thank you, Zoro," you nuzzled your head into his chest in deep appreciation for more than the bear, hands holding tight onto the back of his shirt.

Your sudden display of affection made his ears grow pink. He silently hoped you couldn't hear the way his heart was beating from how your head was pressed to it. He wasn't sure how to respond at first but hesitantly, his arms wrapped around you too, squeezing you closer for a moment. His chin sat on top of your head as he let out a deep sigh at the comfort it brought him. If only he could hold you like this all the time.

There weren't enough words in the world to express your gratitude to him. For how well he treated you. For everything he did to make you feel happy. You just wanted to do the same for him. At least even for a little bit if this wasn't going to last.

"You're welcome," he smiled softly at you as you pulled apart from the hug. "Now, what are we naming this little guy?"

"Well, he definitely isn't little," you barked a laugh holding the bear up next to your hip. Now that you were seeing him closer, he was half your size. "I'll name him Lovey and I will be his Dovey."

"Does that mean I have competition?" his arms crossed on his chest, playing jealous. "He does seem like a worthy opponent."

"I didn't realise you were a runner-up, tough guy," you patted his chest to calm his coyness down a notch.

"Did I not make it clear enough?"

I think you and me have very different definitions of clear.

"I don't know," you teased. "Did you?"

"Guess I have to go for Plan B," he said, checking his watch again.

He checked that watch of his hundreds of times tonight. Was he in a rush? Is his prince charming cover going to dissipate like Cinderella at midnight or something?

"What's Plan B?" you asked confused, hoping he would let some information slip.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he smirked tauntingly.

This man is an ore of surprises.

You've been waiting for Zoro in front of the park for a little over half an hour. He left to look for his car a while ago and there was no sign of him yet.

Huh, funny how I keep waiting for him. Both physically and emotionally. When does it end?

The sky turned darker and grey clouds rolled over. You felt uneasiness creep up on you, especially since he mentioned a Plan B. If the club and the amusement park were Plan A, what did Plan B look like in his book?

Five more minutes passed and Zoro returned, surprisingly by walking instead of driving, car keys swinging around in his hand.

"Zoro, where's the car?"

"So, uh, bad news. I lost the car," he smiled apologetically, pressing his hands together.

"What do you mean you lost the car? It's a huge jeep. How hard can it be to find a huge... jeep," you motioned around only to stop as you realized most of the cars around looked exactly like his. "Oh."

"Yeah, charm of living on the coast. But good news is that we are in walking distance from my place which was final destination. Though that surprise is kinda ruined now."

"I don't know what exactly you have planned at your place though," you stated, fishing for details.

"You have a point. Well, I can just come and look for it tomorrow."

He says that as if it's a daily occurrence for him to lose a jeep to the hands of sense. Though that made you think. Just how many times did he lose his car around here? But you'd rather not ask. So you asked something else.

"Won't you get a ticket?"

"Most parking around here is free."

"That's fine then," you shrugged, getting up with Lovey under your arm. "What about Plan B?"

Come on, dude. Give me a clue. Just one hint.

"It's on the way," was all he said as he extended his arm to you.

Okay, then no clue.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

Of all the places you expected to make a pit stop at, Home Depot was the last thing on your list. Zoro had to pick up a bulb for his kitchen light that has been in his shopping notes for the past two months. Two. months. This is exactly why you make the lists on your grocery runs. He always forgets something.

In one hand you held your new fluffy companion close, while Zoro held onto your free one while you padded through the departments to reach the light section. Like any self-respecting humans, you stopped by the furniture section to look at a few sofas and test their softness together. They were so comfortable to sit on but you already had one in your apartment and from what Zoro let on he had one too many. Now, you wanted to reach final destination sooner.

A bit more waddling around floorings and hardware and you finally reached it - the beauty that was the light section. Bulbs of all kinds for all purposes, orientally decorated lamps and simple to more lavish strings of lights hung around each rack, one calling out more than the other.

The section extended into an extra part that seemed to have been arranged more recently. It called to you so you left Zoro looking for his bulb as you went to explore it more.

Following the multicolor trail bouncing off the racks, you came to a makeshift panel widening into the middle of the department. It was built to look like an arch of some sort. Like the kind you would see in extravagant wedding settings.

Fairy lights and crystal chandeliers of all shapes dripped down to paint the grey floors in a myriad of colours. You ventured under it, looking at all the ambient and decorative designs on display. A few lamps were so beautiful you seriously considered redecorating. Although, the warm golden light of a chandelier in the middle of the ensemble drew you in, its intricate framework sending rays of light reflecting from all lamps everywhere.

Zoro found the bulb he needed and turned around to find you gone from his side. He had to put a tracker on you at this point.

Following his instinct, he took just a few steps down the lights wing and found you right away. His breath hitched. There you were, revelling in the warmth of the light of a crystal chandelier. Its main frame made out of goldenrod supported dozens of glass flowers cascading from each side to create a bigger rozette above. The other lights reflected into the glass, shining a warm gold tone all over you, romanticising your features.

You looked like you stepped out of heaven. A fallen angel. His fallen angel.

You were curiously tracing the details of a crystal flower when he stepped closer to you, musky vanilla invading your senses. Turning to him you ended up nose to nose once again tonight, foreheads almost touching in that confined space. He was so close yet so far again. What was he waiting for?

Kiss me, you wanted to scream.

Kiss my lips dry.

Kiss me like I'm yours Zoro.

You were ready to beg. To have him close the distance faster and end this yearning.

He leaned in, breath ghosting your lips almost painfully.

In your daze, too focused on him finally showing a response, you backed up into a lamp that nearly knocked out everything else behind you. You turned around just in time to catch it, steadying it back to its place, saving dozens of installations from being crushed to bits and pieces. When you turned back around, his eyes closed in denial, letting out an exasperated breath.

And he pulled away. Just like that. He initiated the moment and he ended it too.

Now what the fuck.

"Did you get the bulb?" you exhaled, still in shock that the moment was gone as quick as it came.

"I have," he inhaled, straightening his posture, cocky smirk flying back to his lips.

Like he didn't just have me begging for a fucking kiss in the Home Depot lights section.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Nope," he got a hold of your hand pulling it between you, thumb softly guarding yours. "I have everything I need right here."

You're such an anomaly, Roronoa Zoro.

All you could think about was his place. Which was unexplored land to you. Your visit there wasn't too early of a feat in your relationship considering how much he loved your place. You just pondered on what was waiting for you there.

An open invitation to become more? A private tour of his home? A one night only limited edition Zoro? The possibilities with this man were endless.

A small stinging sensation brought your attention to your leg. Your ankles. Not having worn heels in a while, you didn't think it would be this bad if you left them uncovered and just slid into the heels for the night. Until it was that bad and trying to walk in a way that didn't give your discomfort away was hard. Every step down the concrete sidewalk had your the shoe brush like a bristle comb against your ankle.

You stopped to lean your weight on a fence, lifting your leg to be met with the new blood crescents forming on the ridges of your heels. Ouch. Rubbing your ankles to soothe the ache proved to be only temporary relief. You tried putting it back in the shoe only to scrunch your nose at the new wave of pain.

You've been walking for quite a while already. Who knew how much longer you had until you reached his place?

Before you could even register what was happening, Zoro dropped to his knees in front of you with a grunt. You blinked, bewildered at his behaviour. His wide back stretched, laid out for you. You didn't notice until now that his shirt was slightly see-through, the glory of his lean, strong shoulders fully in your view. No view of the coastline could compare to the one you had in front of you. Kneeling at your feet of all things.

You just stared for a while still confused but digging it, until his voice echoed like a wake up call in your ears.

"Get on."

"I can walk."

He turned his head around, pining you with an are you serious right now look. He was trying to be a gentleman but your hugely independent persona wasn't having any of that. Well, that and you were still mad about the home depot thing.

The kiss that never happened. The pulling away after railing you up all night, with a desperate sigh on his part, as if he felt the same. If he felt the same he would've said or done something to cement it. To make you stop feeling like a damn fool.

"I know you can," he added, voice turning so mellifluous to sweeten the mood that your knees almost turned to jelly. "I just don't want those red demons to scar you more than they already have."

He was sweet-talking you again.

He turned back around and made grabby hands over his shoulder for you to hurry up. You bit your lip annoyed that he was right. The heels would only scar your ankles more.

"Fine," you sighed and got on, closing an arm around his neck as the other wrapped the bear's arms around your own.

Certain that you got comfortable, Zoro got a hold of the back of your thighs to lift you up. The spot he touched behind your thigh tickled and you tried your hardest to keep stable and not move around too much. You did kick forwards in instinct once, earning a disgruntled huff from your humble transport.

"Is there a place you aren't ticklish in?"

"I'm sorry, I just can't help it."

You took a strand of your hair and tickled his cheek on purpose as he tried to blow it away.

"I will drop both of you if you don't stop that," he warned.

You leaned closer to the side of his head, the rim of your lips brushing just the tip of his ear, voice playing sweet whispering in the same way he did to you all night.

"Stop what?"

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, jaw clenched, tensing under your hold before slowly reconfiguring his pace. You hit a chord. You grinned in victory that it affected him when your smile fell as you caught sight of the corner of his lip twisting upwards. He welcomed your teasing only to reply with a remark of his own.

"Are you testing me, angel?"

Angel. That was new. So new that your heart fluttered.

You kept your composure unsure of how to respond. This was one of those times his teasing got too deep inside of you and tickled a chord you didn't even know was there. So you just deflected from it, securing your hold on him better.

"Drop me and I will end your entire bloodline."

A deep rumble of a chuckle that he tried to keep inside but failed, boomed under you. The heaviness between you dissipated little by little, unserious, and you giggled along with him.

"You're precious cargo. But I just might," he teased again, readjusting his hold on you.

Yet, the truth was he wouldn't. In fact, he would do anything in his power for you to be comfortable. Even if that meant carrying you and a midsized bear all the way to his place sprawled on his back like a sack of potatoes, with your red feet killers swinging in his hand as your warm giggles filled the night.

Though it was a far reach, the possibility of nights like these becoming a regular thing made his heart soar. Maybe there was a chance for more.

Entering the lush part of the coastline, palm-hidden domains morphed into villas upon villas of the rich and the elite in all kinds of styles running along the lap of a hill. Halfway up the steep hill, your humble transport climbed a set of stairs and stopped in front of a villa.

Your mouth hung open. There's no way this was his.

Your eyebrows reached the heavens when he fished around his pocket for the keys and jingled them in the hole, pushing the door open. This was his.

Once inside, he bent down for you to get off, placing your heels down, putting his own shoes next to yours. You hopped off taking in the place. Each way your head turned you were instantly hit with his scent.

"You're telling me your house was this close to the club and we spent new year's sleeping on the beach?" you asked, twirling around the place.

Walking in further, you came to a dip in the ground going into a spacious living room. Two medium couches and an armchair in a deep forest green laid around facing each other. He does have a couch too many.

"Well, I didn't want to hit third base that early," he said, walking into the kitchen area. "You did take me for a psychopath just for taking you to the beach."

Taken aback at his words, you turned around trying to recall when that happened.

"Pffft, I did not."

Stopping his ascent on a small ladder to change the broken bulb, he placed his hands on his hips and looked back at you then proceeded to utter the exact words you said to him on your first night together.

"Is this the part where you kill me or something?"

He even had the tone right. You laughed remembering his first impression. Oh, how wrong you were. He turned out to be way more than that.

"Fair enough."

Fixing fluffy Lovey on a couch, you walked around some more. The huge space was used so well, beige and green motives spreading all around, combining in neutrals with the dark grey oak wooden floors. Beyond the modern aesthetic and messily discarded trinkets it was so cozy. Compared to your apartment, this place was an oasis.

"You have a really nice house."

"Thank you. It's not much really."

Not much? He's not being real.

He fiddled some more with the lightbulb, lean forearms working to click it into place. Extending his hand to you, he motioned you to the flip switch to test if it works. You obliged and turned it on. The bulb glowed, turning the beige kitchen golden, just like the chandelier you saw.

Moving into the cooking area you realised even his kitchen was something out of the paradise of architectural design.

You leaned your elbows on the marble top, head resting on top of your knuckles, waiting for him to finish. Once he was satisfied with his work, he stored the ladder away and came to sit next to you, mirroring your position. Feeling his prying eyes on you, you turned to find him a few inches away, hip brushing yours, looking at you with a smile.

"Hi," you said softly, smiling back at him.

"Hi," he replied, the crescents around his eyes deepening.

You could sit there looking at each other until time would end. If it wasn't for your stomachs singing in unison demanding some attention.

"I thought that instead of going to spend loads of money on a restaurant, we could cook something ourselves," he suggested.

"You went grocery shopping without me?"

"Yep," he popped the p at the end looking really proud of himself.

You had to give him credit for planning the whole day out ahead of time. It's the most anyone has ever done for you.

"So, what are we cooking?"

"Well," he threw a towel over his shoulder, "your wish is my command tonight."

You loved his determination. Zoro could cook. Just enough to save his life if need be but nothing too grandiose - if that included omelets and fried rice with some creativity to reinvent the dish for every day of the week. Thing that required talent.

So, you thought of one simple thing no one could screw up. Something that would be easy, fun and quick to make that would fill you both. You settled on the pinnacle of good food.

"Then pizza it is."

"Had a feeling you'd say that."

He walked to the fridge and pulled out some of your favorite toppings and a jar of the tomato sauce you swore by. You gasped, holding a hand over your heart in fake excitement.

"You know me so well."

"I try my best," he said, making a bow.

You got to making the dough, mixing the ingredients while he connected his phone to a speaker. Jazzy, romantic music played and you craned your neck at him to see that playful smirk. He wasn't acting like the Zoro you knew.

"Dean Martin? Seriously?"

"What's wrong with it? It's-"

"Romantic."

You never saw anyone cut the music so fast. It gave you whiplash.

"Then what about this?"

The track changed to ABBA's Dancing Queen. You threw your head back with a laugh, shaking it at his questioning music choices.

"Friday night and the lights are low ~," he sang off key, sending you into another fit of giggles. He continued singing as laughter rolled out of you to the point you were holding your stomach in pain.

Cruising around some more, he finally let a pop playlist run in the background as you worked on the dough and he got busy with chopping stuff up. You snuck a few glances at him and stilled - that golden light bounced on his tan complexion, making his focused posture appear so snug and cozy, almost husband material. The amused twinkle was back in his brown orbs, resembling irresistible pralines.

He looked like home.

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you turned back to the dough, sprinkling flour on the table top and rolling it out to spread it as wide as you could eat it. Too focused on it, you didn't notice a floured finger coming to paint your face until the white powder was already smeared across your cheeks.

"You're such a child," you let out before you painted his nose with flour too.

"I think that makes two of us."

He cupped the side of your face, brushing his thumb over the flour covered bits. Though that only smudged the flour more, your heart beat accelerated to an uneven rate. He was too close again. Too close to let go again.

"You made me beg for this date so much," he spoke lowly, brushing your cheek in circles. "I don't do begging."

"Can't blame a girl for wanting to torment the guy she's interested in."

Before he could reply, your stomach grumbled again, annoyed that there was still no food present in it. His hand fell from your cheek, though his touch still lingered. Warm, singed, stamped on your cheek.

You finished decorating the pizza with everything you both liked and once it was in the oven, you crouched down to see it cook. Zoro followed on your side, knee touching yours.

"You know, it's not gonna cook faster if you stare at it," he mused.

"I know," you turned to look at him. The gleam from the oven light coupled with the kitchen light above played tricks on you because you could've sworn that hard, playful gaze of his turned softer. "I'm just surprised you can cook something other than basic military canned food."

"Oh, shut up," he laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder into yours.

You made small talk until the oven dinged that your pizza was ready. Letting Zoro deal with it, you ventured more into his living room like a cat looking for her next napping spot.

You walked all the way to the glass windows acting like an outer wall. Finding a handle, you pulled on it expecting it to be just for décor only to see that the glass slid open to give you access to a private beach front. Your jaw would crack if this man shocked you more tonight.

He has a private beach. Who the hell just has a private beach? And he said it's not much. Dude, I can move here if you don't like it.

Pushing the door open all the way, you took a seat on an extended wooden ledge overlooking the stretch of water you started liking so much. The sky was still cloudy, covering up the moon, yet some stars still sparkled through the white glare. A few birds played around in the trees, chirping as brightly as they would in the early morning. Waves lapped calmly at the shore, smaller than the naked eye could see, crashing into each other before they could make a sound on the sand.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath of the salty air, letting it sink deep into your lungs. Calm enveloped you like a warm blanket comfortingly there for you. It was more than an oasis. It was how Zoro made you feel. Though most times it was accompanied by chaos, you would always find yourself waiting for this serene peace.

"I see you've found your favorite spot already."

Zoro was quickly at your side with the pizza sliced, a bottle of wine under his arm and some glasses. He sat down next to you working on the bottle before anything else.

"Favorite doesn't even begin to describe it."

Hungry from all the dancing and walking, you dove into the pizza first. The dough melted on your tongue, nodding to yourself as the good tomato sauce hit your taste buds, among with all the other toppings.

"Is it edible enough?"

"It turned out way better than I expected."

"Hand me one," he opened his mouth, waiting for you to feed him a slice.

You picked up a smaller one. Careful not to smudge any of the toppings on his shirt, you held it out for him to take a bite. He stopped fiddling with the cork to take in the taste.

"You're right, this is heavenly. I didn't know my oven could cook like this."

You choked, slapping his arm.

"That's what ovens are for, dummy."

Red wine, darker than your dress, danced in the glasses as you clinked them together. Taking a sip, the sweetness hit you before it lulled into bitter cherries, spilling on your lips like the promise of love on this chilly February night.

"Look out," he pointed out towards the sea.

You looked everywhere. All you could see was a few boats out on the water, the sky clearing some more and the sea. You even squinted, thinking you weren't looking properly.

"I don't see anything."

He checked his watch to see he was too early. For someone who was always late in making decisions, he still had time. Huh, how the tables have turned.

He counted the leftover seconds in his head, leaning back to look at you the way he did on new year's on the beach. Your back was in his full view, covered by your dress and your hair that grew a bit longer. He still has that impulse to trace your spine with the pads of his fingers.

"Look now."

Right as your eyes fixed on the boats, fireworks lit up the night sky from far out on the water. Pink and red spun around in different shaped hearts.

Seems like the surprises keep on coming.

Too engrossed in the light show decorating the sky in cute and heartwarming messages, you didn't notice Zoro slipped from beside you until you heard slow music playing from the speakers. He sat behind you, hand extended your way.

"Can I have this dance?"

"Another one?"

"You can't blame me for wanting another dance with you when you look this beautiful tonight."

"Only tonight?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"All the time," he corrected himself as he pulled you closer.

You stepped left and right under the warmth of the lights and the fireworks, holding the man you've always wanted in your life. Suddenly, you were taken back to that night where you let it all go to have fun with a stranger. A stranger that became something more so fast.

Who knew you'd end up mending each other's solitude and fill up the cracking pieces in your hearts. You were both aware that you meant more to each other than you let on, but the words just didn't seem to find their way out to communicate that. That was your only fatal flaw.

The need to know where you stand was more powerful than anything right now.

Somehow, everything was perfect.

Maybe too perfect.

"This is so fucking cheesy," you quipped.

"What's cheesy?"

"Everything. This night, the food, the wine, the fireworks... you."

You've kept the uneasiness at bay all night but something made it explode everywhere in your body and it definitely wasn't the wine. Or the way he was looking at you with those deep brown eyes like he could tell what you were feeling. If that were true he wouldn't waste any more time than you already did.

"What is this really about?" he asked, hands falling from your waist to rub comforting circles on the inside of your wrists.

If it wasn't crystal clear until now, he knew what made you tick. And something pushed a nerve by the looks of it and the way you were avoiding his eyes.

You wanted the ground to swallow you up for letting your mouth run wild without any basis besides that nervousness. But you might as well just bite the bullet and tell him everything and be honest with each other at least for once. You avoided talking about it way too long.

"It all feels a little too perfect to be real."

Thinking that voicing your thoughts out would give you some semblance of balance was a wrong assumption. As soon as those words left your mouth, he let go of your arms, taking a step back. Once again, you let your inhibitions take over and reel you away from a great thing.

You got lucky by meeting him. But you still couldn't help but think his heart wasn't yours for the taking. Because he wouldn't let you take it. That you couldn't be more than friends with him because more would destroy the already amazing thing you had going on.

By the way his face fell, brown orbs more preoccupied with the wooden floors, you realized you probably fucked up even more.

Frankly, he did all this tonight for you. He was never the type to go out of his way for people, even the ones he had an interest in because he wasn't one to play the feelings game. To chase and court and shower in affection.

But he knew where you were coming from and why.

He didn't make it clear that you've been the sole object of his attention ever since he saw you that first night you came to the club. For him, that was just another night lost to endless glasses of alcohol to numb himself even more from the world.

Until you showed up.

Hair thrown into the same messy bun you always sported, uncomfortably shifting in your clothes as you nursed a different array of alcohol yourself, trying to do exactly the same thing he was doing. Numbing the feelings away. Keeping them at bay. Fighting them with everything you had in opposite corners of the club when you could've embraced them together from that first look that connected you.

The more time he spent with you the more he let those suppressed feelings in and realised that they didn't bring him any pain this time, but solace, comfort, hope.

The hope that he might just have a great thing in front of him worth changing his ways for.

While Zoro was having a revelation, you were having a war with yourself.

There was this monstrous fire harbored inside of you for so long. Zoro woke that fire and there was no telling of the destruction it could cause this time, especially with so many unsaid things lingering in the air. So many unshared feelings. Because he stood still like the sea washing on the beach instead of doing something. Anything.

Please, Zoro, your eyes begged but he wouldn't look at you.

He was danger, screamed your mind. The danger that you got too comfortable. That this was wrong and you put up the 'no vacancy' sign on the doors to your heart way too soon.

Let me in, your heart screamed, blood in your veins trembling in anger.

One rapid thump of your heartbeat drowned in the silence.

Two more passed and he stood still, gaze set on the ground.

On the third one, you made your mind up.

Before tears could well up in your eyes, you turned around with the intention of bolting out through the same door he carried you through not that long ago.

Sensing movement, he caught sight of you shaking your head, that pout he hated back on your lips. He hurt you. Because he was a fucking idiot who couldn't do words.

But he could do actions. He was willing to do even more to prove to you that this was right and it wasn't all just in your head. That he felt it too.

It only took you taking two fast strides in the direction of the door for him to make up his mind too.

"Then let me make it real," he caught your hand and pulled you to him, crashing his lips onto yours for the first time since that night at the club, kissing you like his life depended on your very own lips moulding to his own.

You felt the desperation, the anguish, the need. All of it to have you close and to feel you in more ways than one. Everything you've been feeling for the past month, hope, passion, the beginning of love, spilling from his lips onto yours. He was telling you everything he kept to himself with each desperate tug at your lip and you received every word.

The last time he kissed you was over a month ago, pressured by the new year's kiss tradition. Back then, he tasted like alcohol and his cologne. But now, he tasted like everything you've been waiting for. And you had a hunch he waited just as long for it.

Once you were past the shock of it, you kissed him back even harder, lips finally moving in sync with his. He got a rough hold of your waist and pulled you even closer to deepen the kiss. One of his hands tangled in your curls exactly the way he wanted to since he saw you at your apartment.

He wanted to be selfish. Let that monstrosity of his heart pour out all of those feelings to you. But he reminded himself he had to take it slow with you. So he let go with a small tug at your lower lip, spurring the eagerness inside of your tummy for more.

You pulled apart but remained close, foreheads touching in bliss. Though short, this kiss was sweeter and more meaningful than any chocolate box you could ever get. It was everything you needed to know what his heart held inside and how much more of him you still had to see.

He let you in.

"I wanted to do this for so long," he breathed haggardly, like you stole away all the air in his lungs with just one kiss. A kiss that was so long overdue.

"Why didn't you?" you voiced the question that's been hanging by a thread all night.

"I didn't know how you felt about me."

"You're such an idiot. But you're my idiot."

Shaking your head against his, you pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and kissed him again, this time with more fervour. You wanted to make sure he understood where your feelings stood, where you wanted this to go and that you let him be in total control of it. Because losing control with Zoro was surrendering to a higher power. One that your heart loved being handled by.

You carved your own feelings into the way you held onto his cheeks and nibbled on his lips in unsated hunger, trying to put the torment, want and devotion you felt for him over the past month and a half into a language that he could understand.

And he understood.

Tapping your thigh, you got the message and jumped up into his strong arms that wrapped around you like a curtain of safety.

Your safety net.

He ripped yours apart to become it.

He held you to him so easily as he navigated through the furniture maze in his living room, taking off into a long corridor, all the while his lips discovered new grounds with yours. He didn't want to waste any more time if it involved you.

Zoro didn't care if this would end up being a fucked up disaster on his part, but he held back enough from showing you how he really feels. It was time he made things right with you.

You.

It was only you.

There didn't need to be anyone else for him.

Just you.

His hold tightened around you as he rounded a corner, not for security but to brand the feel of your being in his hands, to realize that he was finally holding you, feeling you where you were supposed to be all along.

Heavens, how much he longed for this. Your presence wouldn't dare to leave his thoughts just like he never left yours. Oh, he knew of the ardor your eyes held inside and was well aware of what ran around in your head because he let those same movies play in his own around the clock, early day into late night. Maybe he didn't let it be known, not like you did in wistful glances or pink tinted cheeks, but there were signs.

In the way his jaw ticked in disgust at every man who set their eyes on you every time you went out shopping, to the point he was ready to have an MME match if they stared too long. Or how his hand twitched to grab yours whenever you sat too close, the need to lace them together and press you flat against the couch in your apartment overriding his senses. And his mouth. Oh, his mouth. It wanted nothing but to taste every inch of you, everywhere you touched him and riled him up, every time your eyes drifted down to his lips, until there was nothing left to taste.

Hell would freeze over before that happened.

Kicking the door to his room open, he shut it just as swiftly, maneuvering your back to the nearest wall, moonlight the only thing illuminating the room. The cold wall cooled your burning skin, a breathy gasp leaving your throat right into his mouth with a kiss. He let go of your back, hands searching for your palms, pushing them against the wall beside your head. His mouth never left yours, exploring every depth, rise and sigh escaping you.

He hooked you higher up the wall with every kiss, atoning for every missed opportunity over the past month. Your legs tangled harsher around his torso, tugging him even closer as he pressed against you with all his might, feeling all of him and none of him at the same time.

Close just wasn't enough for any of you.

You needed closer. Attached. Intimate.

Soul on soul.

Patience wasn't your virtue at all tonight. You clawed at his hands, needy unlike anyone has ever made you. Except Zoro. Your head was filled with him. You were breathing him in and it still wasn't enough.

In one breath you were unglued from the cold wall and put down on the comfy edge of his bed, separated from his lips and from him. You whined at the loss of feeling him against you, ready to argue that having him kiss you mattered more than whatever had him lose the tempo. Although that need turned into anticipation just as fast once your eyes focused on his kneeling form before you.

Roronoa Zoro, on his knees, for you, eyes darker than the blackness of the night. That vulnerability looked lethal.

Those eyes. You could drown in them for a lifetime if they asked you to.

"Zoro," you sighed, chest rising up and down, expectant of his next move.

Oh, how he loved the sound of his name rolling off your lips. Usually so contained in the form of a sarcastic remark or to warn him to watch it.

Now, it was tuned to demand for his attention. And he wanted to make sure you got all of it.

One of his hands extended to your leg, calloused fingers trailing up the arch, circling mindfully around your wounded heel to hold it up to his lips. He pressed them to the inside of your ankle, slow and steady, eyes fixed on yours as you took in a sharp breath. The intensity of his unwavering gaze alone made heat pool between your legs.

Flutters rose in crescendos inside your belly at each kiss and there was no stopping them from roaming free. Not when he was watching your every response like your body was the eighth wonder of the world.

Your hands fell beside you, feeling the softness of his duvet to ground you as you closed your eyes to relish in the moment. Focusing on how plush his mouth felt on your skin on two different extremities. Wondering how they would feel on the rest of your body.

Unspoken but present in the air, that wish was his command.

His fingers trailed higher, past your calf, under your knee, roughly tugging you closer to the edge. Your dress bunched up your thighs as his fingers continued their perusal to reach the small of your back. Slowing his pace, he traced the dip in your spine all the way between your shoulder blades, your back arching involuntarily. Still on his knees, he moved closer between your legs as those fingers circled on your nape, pulling you down to meet his mouth halfway in another kiss, more fiery than the last.

This one sputtered with flames of passion. So much that you couldn't contain yourself anymore.

Your hands shot out to undo the buttons of his shirt. Frustrated with the top ones you just dug your fingers in the holes and pulled it open, poor buttons flying to the floor with a pang, interrupting your fast breaths. He broke apart from your lips to assess the damage only to find his chest half-exposed to your itching hands.

"That was vintage."

"I'll get you another one but I want it off, now," you muttered in a breath, grabbing his face to devour him. You couldn't get enough of how he tasted and every breath for air asked for another taste.

Hooking one hand around your back, he lifted you up and hauled you to the middle of the bed. His lips connected with the side of your mouth, dragging the bottom lip you liked biting so much between his teeth. He was just as annoyed at your dress, desperately looking for ways to feel more of you as he fisted the ends until they creased.

"I want this off too," he groaned, pulling on the skirt impatiently.

Said and done.

You sat up, letting the straps fall off your shoulders, pulling the material over your head to leave you in your undergarments. He licked his lips taking you in. The ferocity of his stare alone drinking you in like his normal glass of whiskey made tremors dance on your skin.

And he didn't even properly touch you yet. You weren't even sure you would survive his touch. The good thing was, you were about to find out.

"What now, loverboy?"

The nickname came out way more playful than you intended it to. It was enough to provoke him in ways that will damage you for anyone else. Ways that will tie his existence to your very own, unable to ever untie it.

"I'm gonna have you like no one has ever dared to before and no one will," he spoke, so deep that your buds prickled against the air at the gravel in his voice. "By the time I'm done with you, you're gonna wish you didn't test my patience for so long."

That turned you on even more. At the need present in him matching the same level of want flowing in your body.

He kicked the rest of his clothes off. Your eyes stopped at the huge package that laid under his clothes, a Greek god in the flesh and balls. They then lingered from the sculpted thighs you were so envious of, to his defined middle where you lost count of his packs and chest, going up to the arched bow of his collar bones, stopping at the plump lips that rushed to capture your own again. This time, he bit your lower lip for access to explore the rest of your mouth, tongues tangling in a dance of their own on the same rapid rhythm your hearts were beating in.

A hand sneaked under your back to lift you higher, pressing your chest flush to his, feeling all the shapes of his muscles against your own. His lungs breathed with yours. Your hearts came alive.

His lips left your mouth, moving down your jaw, prodding under it, heading to your collar bones in hungry fire. They left a burning trail in their wake, stretching tingles even to the edge of your shoulders where he pressed softer ones.

Kiss, lick and bite was his mantra that he repeated against your skin. He wanted to claim you tonight, more viciously than a wolf in heat would claim his mate.

Trailing down, he laid small and large kisses on your sternum, between your mounds. His palms sat on either side of your waist, rubbing circles to tease you more. Damn his teasing.

Feeling his lips, his hands and his torso pressed to you all at once turned your breathing erratic, saprking electric shocks inside of you. He was everywhere, taking your control away. Your eyes darted closed to find some kind of anchor besides fisting his sheets.

"Eyes on me, angel," he commanded and in a second your eyes snapped back to his.

He stopped just above your navel, waiting for you to catch your breath. That was a luxury. Once he was sure you were following, he continued all the way down to your lower stomach where the band of your panties stuck to you uncomfortably. Your breath hitched when he stopped there, blowing above where you needed him most, only to move down to your inner thighs, nipping on the softer skin with that amused smirk of his gracing the outline of his mouth.

He was trying to push you over the edge on purpose.

Fuck that.

One swift push and he fell backwards on the bed. You climbed on top to take the reigns and gain some control back. Little did you know that having you straddling him like that bid the beast inside of him alive.

You moved butterfly kisses from the crook of his neck, down his toned pecs. His hand latched in your hair, grabbing a tight hold around your curls, destroying them like he wanted to do all night. The pressure on your scalp pulled a moan from you just as you bit into his abdomen heaving a groan from him, his other hand digging into your waist as he raised up to meet your neck. He bit and pulled on it too, turning your insides to mush.

Sitting up with you on your kness, he hooked a finger on each side of your panties and ripped them apart down the middle with that shit-eating grin. You choked on every remnant of sanity as he threw the shreds to the side leaving you naked, fully naked, exactly like he wanted you.

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you moved to his lap, legs parted to cage him into your space. One look of confirmation that this was still what you both wanted had you sink down on him at once.

He was big. Collosal almost. He felt bigger than you thought you could take. Eyes closed, it took you a moment to get your bearings back but once you did, you felt him everywhere. His upper thighs supported the rest of your weight. His hands circled around you, both grabbing and holding you upright. His cherry wine-infused breath fanned the side of your neck.

And his eyes? Waiting for you as you opened yours. One look at them and your hips started rolling on autopilot. Every swing buried him deeper, further, closer to where your being called for him. And he let you have it. Letting you ravish his gear the way you liked it, feeling him stretch you sore.

His mouth went back to his mantra. Kissing the crook of your neck, licking it right in the middle and biting it hard enough to leave a bruise. To mark you as his. His and his only.

You gripped his shoulders, shifting to get a better position as your hips started getting tired. Silently, you cursed yourself for ditching gym with him because you didn't know how much stamina riding him would take out of you.

You were close and from how he gripped your waist to help your rhythm, pulling them faster front and back, he was too. He stopped nibbling on your neck, moving to your lips to swallow your quiet moans. He had to make them louder.

You rolled your hips until you couldn't find the energy to push into him anymore. He took that as his chance to take over again.

He pulled out, turning you around as he spread you on all fours. Your hands landed on the bedpost to support you as he climbed behind you. He laid kisses from your lower back all the way to your left shoulder where his lips brushed your ear just as his tip lightly caressed your opening. His warm breaths foreshadowed sin on your skin, making you wetter by the second.

And he entered you. One, two, three pumps and he got accustomed to your tightness just as you did with his size stretching you out. He bit the side of your neck with every thrust, sending your conscious into oblivion, chasing that high together.

Every moan you withheld from him earned you a deeper thrust. He wanted to hear you in all your glory. Wanted to know how badly you wanted him, not just like this but in every way.

In your lost haze, you ended up on your back closer to release. Entering you roughly, he pounded in you so fast you were seeing stars, head rolling to the side in complete ecstasy. His hand grabbed your jaw, tilting your field of vision back to him.

His free hand grabbed your hand for the millionth time tonight, placing it on the messy sheet beside your head, fingers smoothly sliding through yours as he kissed away all of your sighs. Your other hand climbed from deep down his waist to his upper back, hard rock muscles rippling under your touch like a stone thrown on the surface of a still river, disturbing its peace, turning it turbulent and wild. Waking up every primal urge in him as he groaned in your neck.

He accelerated, twitching inside of you and you came, letting your insides explode into a mess as he continued chasing his own high. He wasn't done with you yet, thumb rushing to rub another climax out of you as he was close to his own. His mouth bit into your breasts, grazing your buds one at a time, pulling on them in a way that added to your pleasure way more than the last one.

You gripped him again, tighter, and in no time you both came furiously, spilling everything you held back out onto that mattress. He pulled out, letting his seed fly onto your stomach.

You tried to catch your breath. It was gone somewhere between ecstasy and what laid beyond euphoria. He left to clean himself up, returning with a token of aftercare for you. He wiped his mess off of you, gentle and attentive to get everything off. Once he was done, he got in next to you, pulling you close.

You both just sat there for a while, reflecting on everything that happened. You still felt him inside of you, on you, above you, behind you. He managed to ruin you.

His voice cleared the quiet, making you focus back on the real world for a bit.

"You okay?"

"I just got fucked to oblivion. I would say fantastic but I can't feel my legs."

He chuckled. He would never fail to love your sarcasm. Even in moments like these.

"Did I go too hard?" he asked, not sarcastically but wanting to know if it was too much. If he went harder than he should have.

Looking at the vines of love bites he left on the entirety of your neck, the smudged makeup that looked almost natural, and your tousled messy hair, hard couldn't encapsulate it better. You would've said "you could've gone harder" but that meant urging him on another round and you were spent for tonight. So, you laid your head in the crook of his neck and closed your eyes, releasing a content breath, a silent confirmation that you were okay.

A single thought passed through your head - this was all kinds of right. Your once in a lifetime right time right place, as cheesy as it sounded. Maybe cheesy was good.

He was in his head thinking everything through in his own way, breaking down the once intense feelings into little flurries of emotion buzzing inside of him. That passion masked itself as denial for way too long. But tonight, you held his face and took that mask off, giving him clarity and he was able to feel something else.

Something close to love, he thought, chuckling to himself.

You cracked one eye open, taken aback at his sudden cheerfulness. One look at his face bathed in the glow of the moon and you saw him beaming.

"What are you so smiley about?"

He just shook his head, smile widening like a Cheshire cat that's been caught up to no good.

"Nothing."

Taking it upon yourself, you got up from his side with slow moves and straddled his waist, getting his attention back on you.

"Tell meeeee," you stretched, poking your fingers through every dent in his abs until he told you.

"What are you gonna do for it?"

Not this again.

Actually, this time, you knew what he wanted. A kiss. So, you just leaned over and caught his lips sweetly, smiling into it. His hand came to cup your face, smiling back. He pulled away, soft praline orbs gazing at you warmly.

"What if I still don't want to tell you?"

"Zoro, stop playing with me," you complained, slapping his chest.

"Okay. Okay," he held his hands up in surrender.

He sat up to lean on the headboard and get a better look at you - his ruined shirt hugged your smaller form, running all the way to your thighs. The marks of his feelings that he still couldn't utter decorated you everywhere. You sat back on his lap, arms crossed on your chest, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm not one to do feelings," he started, eyes darting down in thinking. "But you changed that."

Your eyes stayed focused on him, softening at his words.

You knew that he was a reserved person, keeping to his corner rather than reaching out into other people's. Until he found something worth thrusting his hand out at full speed to get it. Something worth hanging onto with his teeth.

As he connected his eyes with yours, brown blazing fire burning as bright and consuming as yours, it dawned upon you that something was you.

He was trying. For you.

"You were right. I am an idiot," he paused, fiddling with the ends of his shirt beside your calf. "It took me so long to figure it out but now I know."

Your heart started running when his hand held yours and brought it to sit on top of his own, running just as fast in his chest. Though the rate of yours spiraled out of control at the honesty of his incoming confession.

"I think I'm in love with you."

Your head spun, blinking in confusion at him.

"Am I hallucinating or did you just say the L word?"

"Yes. I did just say the L word," he nodded, confirming that he felt the same for you.

Before you could breathe it through, you leaned in for another kiss. He deepened the kiss trying to reach every corner of you. Wanting to both take his time and rushing to taste every part of you.

Breathless. Serene. And everything in between.

"I take it you love me back?" he asked, needing you to say those words back to him.

Your heart did flips at the way the word sounded coming from him. It dripped with honey and warmth.

"A little more than love," you grinned. "You do realise that I won't be able to stop it, right?"

"I don't want you to."

"Great," you clapped your hands together. "Because I will become so annoying."

He howled a laugh, throwing his head back, the sound you loved so much making you laugh too.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

You leaned down connecting your lips for the millionth time tonight. But you still couldn't get used to them or to the fact that your heart called out his name and his answered back calling out just as loud.

Falling forward into his arms, you sank like a ship happily waiting to meet its end in the depths of the ocean that was him. Because no ocean was deeper and so familiar to swim through than your Zoro.

He kissed the crown of your head, pulling you closer. Happy felt like an impossible destination until he held you to him like this, safe and warm in his embrace. He felt a tinge of it and he wanted more.

"Are you tired-"

Before the question even left his mouth properly, his eyes drifted to the steady rise and fall of your chest, drained body curled into him tightly, head tucked into the crook of his neck, chest pressed to his.

She's drooling again, he chuckled to himself, moving some hair away from your face so you wouldn't inhale it. You sat like a baby coddled in its mother's arms, but your position looked a little uncomfortable.

He pulled your feet from under you to get you in a better posture. Moving his arms around you, he got more cozy, drawing the covers over the both of you and let the night come to an end.

Birds chirped announcing a new day, with the sea singing the same tune as its waves crashed in a swirl outside. The morning sun peaked through the curtains, its soft rays caressing the top of your head, willing you to wake up.

The first thing you felt was your cheek pressed against something plush. A pillow. The pillows I fell asleep on last night were way better.

You rolled around the bed trying to find some more sleep when the thought of last night sparked your brain like the tip of a vinyl record player, making memories play faster than your sleepy mind could catch up to.

Lips kissing on every part of your skin available to sight, carving themselves on the hidden ones. Hands caressing your body like a holy prayer, thought but never uttered. Eyes making secret promises with yours in the darkened moonlight.

You turned on your back and opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the light in the room. The fluffy duvet fell to your lap as you sat up, stretching your sore limbs with a groan. Everything ached but in a good way.

Pulling the covers away, you folded them neatly on the bed and took in the space in the light of day. The beige and green from downstairs broke off into a two-tone sandy beige and a cotton white on the floor and the walls. It truly felt like home. And smelt like it too. That musky vanilla you liked so much enveloping you, mostly from his shirt.

After a steamy shower that your skin welcomed fully, you stopped in front of the mirror to see just what he drew on you last night. You traced the red marks down your body, feeling the ghost of his lips like he was kissing and biting those places again and again. He didn't need any words after all.

Rummaging through his wardrobe, you stole a t-shirt, fitting like a dress on you, and a pair of pants that barely wanted to stay on your waist. You had to roll them up and double tie the strings for them to sit still.

Taking to the long corridor, you followed the sunlit path and looked for your partner in crime. You found him in the kitchen, handling an egg carton, preparing for what looked like the Zoro Special - omelete with a bunch of side dishes and orange juice - or Champions' Breakfast as he called it.

He had his back turned to you, busy chopping up some tomatoes. You sneaked behind him, trying to be quick and silent on your feet, planning to jump him. You rounded the marble top of the island, grinning that stealth was on your side, only to get caught between his arms. He already sensed you from when you entered the kitchen so your surprise attack was doomed from the start.

Unpredictable like a breeze of the wind, he picked you up, placing you on the island as strong arms planted on each side, caging you in his space. He took one look at you, recognizing his clothes draped loosely on you, messy bun on top of your head and his heart did flips again.

"Fancy seeing you here," you said, shying away from his gaze. It looked hungry and not for any damn food.

"I could say the same," he spoke, raspy voice sending tingles down your spine. He studied you some more, lips perking up in amusement. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

"Maybeeeee," you played with the hem of his shirt. "What are you making?"

"My special-"

His words got caught in his throat as you laid your chin on the crown of his chest and looked up at him with the softest eyes he's ever seen, all his resolve crumbling to the depths of the fucking universe.

It was truly a wonder to him - how you could go from one extreme to the other, being both adorable and sexy at the same time.

"Can I be your special?" you asked, voice sweeter than candy.

"I wouldn't mind that," he smirked, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow morning peck quicker than you would've liked it to be.

As if on cue, your stomach made a noise of complaint that the pizza you made together last night got digested.

"Let's get some food in you," he said, patting it tenderly.

"Do I get to assist on the special?"

"You get to watch the special," he rubbed his hands together and got started.

Pre-heating a pan on the hob, he held a knife in one hand and an egg in the other. Your eyebrow lifted up in curiosity as he held the knife horizontally to put the egg on top of it, balancing it side to side. With a confident grin your way, he flicked the handle and launched the egg in the air swiftly turning the knife sharp-edge upwards, just in time to catch the egg right in the middle, separating its contents from the cracked shell successfully. The egg sizzled in the pan while your mouth sat agape, shook at the skills he was pulling.

"You really are the gift that keeps on giving."

"So I've been told," he said cockily, flicking imaginary dust off his shoulder. You hopped off the island and elbowed him playfully, settling beside him to watch the magic omelet take shape.

Once enough eggs were cooked, he arranged the plates. He cleaned up his working space and leaned in for a kiss you dodged on purpose. That brought an ambush of kisses on your face, from your forehead to your cheeks, your eyes, your nose, your jaw and your lips. Everywhere he wanted to leave his affection on you.

You managed to shimmy out of his grip and bolted out in the living room, through the open glass door on the beach. The wind blew cold, waking you up like coffee, making your heart thunder. He followed right behind you just like the night you met, leaving your footprints in the sand. Though this time he caught up to you way quicker, whisking you up in the air and spinning you until your stomach hurt from laughing.

The sound of your laugh filled his ears in the most beautiful way possible. And something else clicked in his head. He wanted that to be the first thing he heard every morning, every day, until you got sick of him.

He placed your feet back on the sand and brought you closer, waves crashing next to you like the beat of his heart. He had to give it a shot no matter what. So, without letting any other thoughts cloud his decision, he just asked.

"Do you want to move in with me?"

OH, boy.

Thank you for reading :)

#my heart calls your name #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader #i need a roronoa zoro #one piece x reader

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gothcsz · 4 months

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XII.

GIF by uuuhshiny

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Lives for the memory, a woman who's just in his head (just in his head), and she sleeps in his bed (his bed) while he plays pretend. So pretend. –– She, Harry Styles.

WORD COUNT: ~5.6k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: discussions of religion, murder mention, smut :p, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, car sex, more of that sweet sweet detective!javi, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: not javi relapsing 😭 once a whore always a whore, am i right? hope you guys enjoy this week's chapter <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

The next month crawls by at an agonizingly awkward pace. Each day drags on, and Javier feels like he’s losing his mind more and more. Determined to keep his promise of tailing August and his cohort, he shadows them relentlessly.

He comes to find out that they’re just fucking around more often than not. It doesn’t take long for them to notice his presence. They turn the tables, leading him on a wild goose chase around town, making him feel like a complete idiot. Javier comes to terms with having severely underestimated their cleverness, and now he must compensate for the time he’s wasted.

There are no revelations, not even after his efforts to dig into the lives of the other victims. Javi had hoped that a fresh perspective would uncover something significant, much like his breakthrough in Jessica’s room, but he was quickly proven wrong. He’s back to square one, with no solid leads to follow or sound suspects to look into. The restlessness builds as he waits for the files from Rome to arrive. In the meantime, all he has to hold him over is the diary.

His sleep pattern is a wreck again, not that it ever truly straightened out, but it had become tolerable until his separation from Paloma and the subsequent dead end in the investigation.

She is glued to her new group of friends, and it’s clear this attachment has fueled her recent defiant attitude. Despite the fact that he harshly told her he wasn’t her goddamn babysitter and had stopped following her even before their relationship fell apart, Javier can’t help but worry about her constantly. The fact that they’d caught onto his surveillance rightfully pissed him off, forcing him to abandon his efforts entirely. Now, he can no longer keep tabs on her, and this loss of control claws at him.

Such a bitter pill to swallow, knowing she’s slipping further away into a crowd he mistrusts. A mistrust born from envy and happenstance towards the head of the clique who appears to be her new boyfriend. Shithead kid.

Javier despises how they’re influencing her. From his distant observations and what Romeo tells him at work, he sees the changes. Paloma is spending multiple nights away from home with little to no explanation, picking more arguments with her father, and frequently calling out of work. Her weekend performances at The Whiskey Fox have dwindled. It’s as if she’s transformed into a different person. One he doesn’t recognize. The vibrant, dedicated girl he knew is now a shadow of her former self, lost in a crowd he can’t reach.

She, on the other hand, is overwhelmed navigating the revelations of her bloodline. August has managed to explain everything as thoroughly as he can, and while it all still sounds so otherworldly, she decides to follow him with unwavering trust and loyalty. He shows her more photos of her mother, proving her involvement in the original group of believers, and that’s enough to keep her from questioning him until he brings up the more violent aspects of the ordeal.

“There’s someone who’s dying to meet you,” he told her days ago, convincing her to travel further out with him to meet this mysterious person.

They’ve crossed the state line into Louisiana in the dead of night. Being this far from home stirs an unfamiliar feeling in her gut, but it is quickly replaced by ornate curiosity as they navigate the swampy lands of the property. Here, the only other surviving member of the original group lives, and she’s surprised that’s he’s been so close all this time.

The dense, humid air clings to her leaving her skin sticky in sweat. The thick foliage rustles with unseen creatures that frighten her but she manages to keep her composure. Every step forward feels like a step deeper into a world she is just beginning to understand.

The house is… modest. Kindly put. It’s nestled amidst bald cypresses and weeping willows. The occasional twinkle of fireflies adds a touch of magic to the scene, making it feel more picturesque than what it really is. There’s a creaky wooden bridge that runs over the water leading to the small home, her boot snagging on a raised plank which causes her to stumble slightly.

“Careful, angel,” August warns, his voice cutting through the night, “helluva lot of water snakes and other critters lurkin’ out here. Would hate for ya to be snagged up by a gator.” He steadies her with a firm grip, and she mutters a brief ‘thanks’, shuddering at the mere thought of coming face to face with a fucking alligator.

Sloane and August cross the threshold as if it’s their own home while Gabe lingers outside nursing a lit cigarette. She hesitates for a moment before trailing in after them, her nose wrinkling at the stale scent hanging in the air mingled with something far more pungent.

In the dimly lit living room, an elderly man reclines on a tattered and weathered couch, his frail form beneath the worn fabric of a blanket. His sickly demeanor is evident, emphasized by the array of pill bottles strewn haphazardly across the coffee table. The room itself seems to sag under the weight of neglect, every creak and groan a testament to its precarious state; as if it could crumble at any moment.

“Guardati. Così bella. Così giovane. Avvicinati, la tua somiglianza con lei è sorprendente.”

She can't make sense of his thick accent, but August intervenes and gestures for her to come to the center of the room.

“He’s sayin’ you’re beautiful,” He translates, his words a lifeline in the sea of her confusion, “and that your resemblance to your momma is uncanny. He wants to get a better look at ya.”

Her feet seem rooted to the floor at first, an uneasy sensation creeping over her once more. Despite her apprehension, she nods hesitantly and takes a few cautious steps forward. Standing at the foot of the couch, the elderly man’s weathered hand beckons for her to get closer, his eyes alight with curiosity and something else. Something she can’t quite place.

“Sarai una madre fantastica. Più grande di quella che ti ha preceduto. Tante vite perse e valorosamente sacrificate per far posto a te. Paloma, la matriarca della nuova era.”

She’s still so lost, the only thing she’s able to make out is her own name and the word mother. She turns to look over at August, who is watching intently as she silently asks him to translate again. He exchanges a glance with Sloane, who, uncharacteristically, remains silent.

“More monumental than your mother. He’s callin’ you the matriarch of the new age.”

Inhaling sharply, uncertainty clouds her thoughts as she struggles to decipher the old man’s intentions. When her attention returns to him, her breath catches in her throat once she notices a dagger clutched in his wrinkled hand. Panic surges through her veins and she instinctively moves to retreat, but his sudden grip on her wrist halts her in her tracks. She recoils, a sharp hiss escaping her lips as she tells him to let go.

“Take my life, Paloma. It would be an honor.”

Her blood runs cold at his words, eyes widening with a chill creeping up her spine. A sinister gleam flickers in his eyes, and she yanks her hand free, stumbling backward until she collapses onto the grimy floor. Terror grips her heart as she scrambles to her feet, her eyes darting frantically between the old man, August, and Sloane.

“Why did he say that?” Paloma’s voice cuts through the heavy silence, her confusion and nerves palpable.

There’s a moment of silence that only serves to fuel her growing agitation. She feels like she’s overreacting, but deep down, she knows she’s not. The old man’s request has unsettled her to the core. He asked her to kill him.

What. The. Fuck?

“He’s obviously sick and needs medical attention. Why did you bring me here?” Paloma’s gaze fixes on August, her tone tinged with accusation. As he steps closer to her, she instinctively takes a step back.

“For him. For this. He’ll be gone any day now ‘n his last request was to see you in person. He’s on his deathbed, Paloma. Remember ‘bout all the pain and sufferin’ that could end at your hands. Consider this part of that. Put him out of his misery–– he’s in so much pain and wants you to end it.”

“I-It’s murder.”

“If you think of it like that, you’re only hurtin’ yourself.”

She bites down roughly on her tongue, struggling to contain the torrent of emotions swirling inside her. A hesitant glance is cast toward the couch where the old man’s gaze remains fixed on her, his plea unyielding.

But she can’t bring herself to do it. She won’t. With a determined shake of her head, she takes a few steadying breaths. “M’not goin’ to do it. I’m sorry,” she declares, her voice wavering. It’s absurd, this situation they’ve found themselves in, and she can’t fathom how August could expect her to be remotely okay with it.

Sloane’s eyes roll with exasperation as she finally speaks up, her tone dripping with frustration and blunt honesty. “The shit we’re involved in ain’t always goin’ to be picture-fuckin’-perfect, Paloma. S’downright biblical—convoluted ‘n harsh. Not some fairytale. You’re goin’ to have to get your hands dirty eventually. This is tame compared to everythin’ that’s come before you, before me, before all of us. Quit pussyin’ out ‘n end this poor man’s sufferin’.”

She lets out a sound of disbelief, her mind reeling at the casualness yet intensity with which her friends discuss such a grave matter as goddamn murder.

But is it really murder if he’s this old and sick—moments away from ‘seeing the light’ and practically giving his life over to her to end? The moral ambiguity of the situation hits her hard, a cold shiver dancing down her spine. Despite the doubt gnawing at her conscience, she remains resolute in her decision. “No,” she states firmly, trembling with conviction.

Sloane scoffs in response, her displeasure evident when she abruptly exits the room, presumably heading outside to vent her frustrations to Gabriel.

“Baby––” August’s voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the weight of the situation

“No, August ‘n I mean it.”

More silence ensues, that is until the man begins to cough harshly, each spasm wracking his frail body. Splatters of blood stain the dirty blanket that envelops him. Paloma watches in stunned silence, unsure of what to do as he loses himself to the violent hacking. Her heart pounds in her chest with each agonizing moment, until finally, his body goes rigid, the coughing fit subsiding into an eerie stillness.

The events that follow unfold in slow motion. Gabriel and August wrap the man’s lifeless body in sheets scavenged from around the dilapidated house. They work in hushed tones, their movements methodical as they obscure his form before solemnly carrying it outside. With a heavy silence suspended over them, they toss it into the depths of the swamp, the murky waters swallowing the remains of a life now lost.

Paloma remains silent throughout, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and thoughts. She can’t shake the feeling of unease that squeezes her. At first, she argued for them to call an ambulance, to involve the authorities, but her pleas were swiftly dismissed by August.

He explained, with a grim certainty, how the action would backfire on them. The last thing they needed was to draw attention, to risk implicating themselves in suspicion. And as much as it pained her to admit it, she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The consequences of involving the authorities were too great, and the thought of her father discovering that his dearest daughter was far from home, involved in something like this was a chilling prospect she couldn’t bear to contemplate.

He’d never let her out of his sight again.

The ride back to Seminary is long, restless and tense. She continues her vow of silence, ignoring them all together and shutting out the world around her. Even when August attempts to sweet talk her, his words fall on deaf ears.

It all feels surreal, like some fever dream she’ll wake up from at any moment, safe and sound in the comfort of her own bed. The memory of a dead body being dumped into a swamp as alligator food long gone.

She hops out of the truck as soon as it stops in the familiar driveway, grateful that her father wasn’t home yet, and August follows hot on her heels.

“Please say somethin’, sweetheart.”

“If it’s peace I’m bringin’, then why the need for violence? Why do I need to ‘get my hands dirty’?”

“It’s… part of it.”

“Y’know you keep sayin’ that but never really explain what the hell it means.”

He sighs heavily, scratching at his jaw as he struggles to find the right words. “To appease our deity we have to give somethin’ up. I told you, s’very similar to the Genesis story of Cain and Abel and their offerings; ‘cept in this iteration Cain was favored instead of outcasted and cursed.”

“So killin’ that man would have been seen as an offering? What will you give up now that he’s dead, huh?” Her voice wavers with uncertainty, resolve beginning to falter. Maybe she isn’t ready to take on all this responsibility. While at first, she had fantasized about being a savior, something divine to help the world in its entirety, now it’s looking like she’s getting a lot more than she can morally handle.

“You told me all those nights ago that If I needed space ‘n time to think things over that you’d grant me that. So I’m askin’–– no, tellin’ you, August, that m’gonna need some distance to really think things through,” Paloma declares, her voice firm as she asserts her need for clarity and space.

His jaw twitches with a hint of exasperation, his piercing blue eyes searching her warm brown ones for understanding. He knows he’s pushed her too far, made her wary of him and his enigmatic cause. Despite his reluctance, he nods in resignation.

“Fine. You’re right,” he concedes, his voice tinged with regret. “Did say that ‘n I meant it. You take all the time you need, little dove. You know where to find me.”

There’s a pause as he hovers nearby. With a tender gesture, he leans in to plant a gentle kiss against her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before reluctantly pulling away.

“M’sorry for making you uncomfortable,” he murmurs softly with remorse. She doesn’t say anything, and with a final glance, he turns and departs, leaving her standing there with her arms crossed as she watches them drive away. Alone with her thoughts and exhausted, she can’t help but wonder what the hell she’s going to do now.

“I don’t see why we need to keep draggin’ this out. S’only goin’ to keep bringin’ more problems ‘n stoppin’ us from what we’re tryin’ to do.”

August stares out the large window that overlooks the backyard of the property, half listening to Sloane’s opinion as the three of them discuss what their next move is.

“This is exactly how it all went to shit last time. They showed their hand too early ‘n it scared Calmana off. She fucked ‘em over then went into hiding. That won’t happen again. I won’t let it.”

“And you don’t think takin’ her out to Louisiana was you showin’ your hand too early? Fuckin’ scared her off and now who knows if she’ll ever think ‘bout comin’ back.”

He mulls over her words, back still facing them and eyes lost in the vastness of the ranch. “Maybe so, but we can still turn this minor setback around.”

“How? When? Hate to be the bearer of bad news but the next full moon s’tomorrow. No way we get her back on our side by then.”

“By continuin’ to be patient, Sloane.” He snaps at her, turning his head to the side, “In the meantime we find someone else t’ give over.”

“Full offense, but that’s a stupid ass idea.” She voices unapologetically, “Specially with that cop boyfriend of hers. He’s been gettin’ too close, August. If another dead body shows up you know he’ll find some bullshit reason to bring us in ‘n who knows what’ll happen after that.”

He licks his teeth, irritation flaring in his eyes. “So we pluck one of our own ‘n you do what you do best and handle him.”

He turns to face them fully, his gaze sharp and probing as he studies their reactions. “Or is that a problem?”

Gabriel, who rarely interjects in these planning sessions, speaks up. “Not a problem. We jus’ gotta be careful.” His eyes lock with August’s, a silent battle of wills. Gabriel has harbored reservations for a while now, but Paloma’s increasing involvement has intensified his suspicions.

Was what August promised even real? They’ve been at this for years, taking innocent lives with barely anything to show. ‘It takes time’ were the pacifying words August had repeated over and over. For a while, they had kept him satiated, but now those words feel hollow and weightless. He doesn’t know if he can continue with the senseless killing as they wait for Paloma to come around.

“We will,” August insists, his voice calm but firm. “We’re playin’ the long game here. Have been for years now. S’the only way. The payoff will be more rewardin’ than anythin’ I’ve ever promised either of y’all. You just have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

The question lingers, laden with excessive weight. The three share a look, the silence stretching as the gravity of their situation settles over them.

Gabriel’s trust continues to weaken. Sloane’s is resolute. Finally, they nod in unison.

“Yes.”

The files from Rome arrive right at Javier’s doorstep, and the amount of them leaves him stunned. Expecting a box or two at most, he assumed from his phone call with the professor that there wouldn’t be much material to comb through.

He was wrong. Big time. About a dozen boxes now litter his trailer home, each one packed to the brim with documents and photographs.

Nestled among the boxes is an unexpected addition: an Italian language learning guide. Within it is a neatly written note from the woman who sent everything over.

Sorry these took so long. I translated as much as I could. Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Hopefully this helps.

His gaze bounces between the guide in his hands and the mountain of boxes. The enormity of the task ahead is almost daunting, but there’s also a flicker of excitement. This could be the breakthrough he’s been waiting for, buried in the copious amount of tangible information.

He sifts through each box thoroughly. Papers are strewn about, forming a chaotic landscape around him. His brows pinch together in concentration as he absorbs the gravity of the crimes committed, the horrific details coming to life through the countless documents. He reads how these assholes twisted the Catholic religion to their will in a blasphemous manipulation tactic.

The symbol appears again and again, more times than he can count. Its presence is an undeniable thread connecting past atrocities to present dangers. There’s no escaping the conclusion: whoever was involved back then is still pulling strings now. Javier clings to a sliver of hope, or perhaps it’s a desperate prayer, that it’s just one person and not an entire community entrenched in the same malevolent way that plagued the city of Rome.

As he delves deeper, the hours slip away unnoticed. It’s only when his stomach grumbles loudly that he realizes how late it’s gotten. The clock is nearing ten. He hasn’t eaten all day, not deliberately but because his hunger was eclipsed by the information he’s been processing. The realization snaps him momentarily out of his research-induced trance.

“Just one more,” Javi mutters to himself, metaphorically knee-deep in the files detailing the exploitation of countless women. Each folder reveals more barbarities, more lives shattered by sinister manipulations.

He flips open another manila folder, expecting more of the same grim details. Instead, he’s met with a photograph that makes him do a double take. A brunette with strikingly familiar features stares back at him. The intensity of her eyes, the curve of her nose, the pout of her lips—it all mirrors Paloma with an unsettling accuracy.

“Fuck this,” he snaps the folder shut without bothering to read the accompanying information. Her presence in his mind is relentless, making it impossible for him to concentrate on the task at hand.

He stands from the couch, pacing the small space of his living room while running a hand through his hair. It’s as if she’s everywhere, her likeness etched into the horrors he’s uncovering. Her ability to infiltrate his thoughts is infuriating, a constant reminder of the unresolved feelings that he can’t seem to overcome.

He needs a fucking breather.

It’s a slow night at The Whiskey Fox, and Javier feels a wave of relief as he steps inside. The atmosphere is a welcome break from the overwhelming sea of files that waits for him at home. After quick meal and a drink here, he’ll be ready to dive back into the labyrinth of information, hopefully with a clear head.

His moment of respite is cut short as Sloane saunters over to his side of the bar, her expression a mix of amusement and mischief. She leans forward, her shit-eating grin unwavering.

“What’ll it be, handsome?”

Javier keeps his voice plain as he tells her his order, his eyes flicking up to the television screen nearby that is broadcasting a college football game.

He can feel her gaze lingering on him as she uncaps his beer and slides it across the wooden countertop. Her stare is almost palpable, a prickling sensation erupting along his skin under the weight of it, but he refuses to react. Instead, his eyes stay fixed on the screen, ignoring her presence altogether.

Javi takes a long swig of the cold beer, the emptiness of the bar that had initially brought him solace now feels charged with unspoken tension; a reminder that no matter where he goes, complications seem to follow.

“Long day?” she asks casually, her hands busy with wiping down counters and rearranging bottles.

“Every day is a long day ‘round here,” He responds, attention still on the game. He hopes the curt reply will end the conversation, but Sloane isn’t so easily deterred.

“You’re right. The days do seem to drag by. ‘Specially workin’ with a job like yours, officer.” she continues, her tone light yet probing.

His gaze flickers over to her then, only to find dark eyes and a seductive smile looking back at him. There’s a knowing glint in her expression, one that makes him uneasy. He doesn’t bother responding, focusing instead on his beer, then devouring the bar food that arrives shortly after.

“I’ve been told m’really good at bein’ a distraction,” she purrs, leaning closer. “Not to overstep, but you look really tense. I could help relieve some of that stress. Make tonight a little more bearable.” She bites her lip and tilts her head, her eyes swimming with suggestion.

Javi can feel the heat of her gaze, the overt invitation simmering between them. He’s tempted to look away, to bury himself back in the files at home, but something about her boldness holds his attention. For a moment, he considers the offer, the promise of temporary relief from the relentless pressure he’s under.

He finishes his meal in silence, the taste turning bland in his mouth as he mulls over his next move. The night is full of possibilities he’s not sure he wants to explore.

Javier taps his fingers against the wooden countertop as he watches her work, now his turn to do the staring. Sloane doesn’t back down; their gazes matched when she approaches him again. It’s a challenge and invitation rolled into one. The sparse number of patrons nearby do nothing to pull her attention away from him. She’s all in.

He knows he shouldn’t, but between the mess with Paloma and the complexity of the cases, a quick hook-up might just be what he needs to relieve some of that stress, as Sloane had so bluntly put it. It’s not his best move, sleeping with someone who had been on his suspects list; and it’s certainly not wise to get with the best friend of the woman he can’t seem to get over.

The prolonged silence between them is thick with building sexual tension. Deciding to be fucking reckless, he leans forward slightly, a question forming on his lips.

“What time are you off?” he asks, his voice low.

“Twenty minutes,” she replies quickly, her excitement barely concealed.

Javier nods, effectively confirming the salacious invitation. Sloane giggles, biting her lip as she brings him another beer, finishing her shift with practiced motions. He closes his tab, feeling a mixture of anticipation and guilt nestle in his chest.

Stepping outside, he heads to his truck parked at the very back of the lot. He lights a cigarette, taking a long drag as he contemplates his decision. You still have time to back out, the angel on his shoulder reminds him, the voice of reason in the quiet night. But the devil, fueled by his sexual frustration, whispers back, Or you can keep doing what you’re doing and allow yourself one quick, good fuck to get your head back on straight.

He puffs away at his cigarette, the smoke curling up into the darkness as he weighs his options. The decision feels heavier than it should.

Sloane saunters out of the building, her eyes scanning the parking lot until they land on him. A flirty smile tugs at her lips as she draws closer.

“Thought you woulda changed your mind. Happy to see that wasn’t the case,” she teases, casually plucking the cigarette from between his lips. She takes a long drag, savoring it, before returning it to its original place.

Javier narrows his gaze, irritation and desire flickering in his eyes. “I should. Probably a dumb fuckin’ idea, but I don’t really give a shit at the moment.”

Her smile broadens into a smirk. “Got tired of watchin’ us from a distance and wanted to see the real thing up close?” Her nimble fingers toy with the button of his shirt, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she looks up at him.

His jaw flexes at the mention of his patrolling, a reminder of the line he’s about to cross. Javier shrugs, playing it cool. “Had to make sure you weren’t causing any trouble around here, sweetheart.”

She laughs, a sultry sound that dances around them. Slowly, she begins unbuttoning his shirt, her touch deliberate and teasing. “M’always causin’ trouble, officer, and I think you know it, too.”

Javier finishes off the cigarette, dropping it to the ground and smothering it. His large hands reach out, gripping her waist firmly as he swiftly switches their position. Pressing her against the side of his truck, he ducks his head, placing a few kisses along the line of her jaw. His lips trail down to her neck, eliciting a soft gasp from her as her hands roam over his now-exposed chest.

Their lips meet in a heated kiss, making out passionately in the shadows of the nearly deserted parking lot. Sloane’s hand comes down to palm Javier through his jeans and he shudders, his own hand fidgeting with the door handle until he swings it open and ushers her to climb in.

Once they’re inside the spacious cab of his truck, Javier pulls Sloane into his lap and his tongue slips into her mouth, fingers digging into skin as they undress one another as best as they can in the confined space. He’s turned his mind completely off, losing himself in her eager touches and lustful moans.

“Knew you’d be good at this,” Sloane breathes out, tilting her head back as Javier begins to leave hungry kisses and lovebites all over her neck and collarbone. Back in Colombia, the girls at the brothel had jokingly given him the nickname Javi el Vampiro due to his bad habit of leaving marks. Once he realized it was bad for their business, he quit doing it.

He hasn’t changed a bit. The bite on Paloma’s shoulder an example of it, and now the evidence he’s eagerly leaving against Sloane’s pretty, flushed skin. Javier can’t get enough of her taste, her scent, the feeling of her writhing against him. He grinds his hips up as she presses down, both of them desperate for more friction, more contact, more release.

He hikes her skirt up, moving her panties to the side as two of his thick fingers press against her clit and she moans wildly, her wetness coating his digits.

No matter how bratty or self assured the women who pursue him act, they always succumb to his skilful touch.

“You like that, baby?” Javier asks with a tilt of his head, applying more pleasure as she mewls out a filthy yes. He slowly moves his fingers inside of her, fucking her gently as she moans and begs.

“Need to feel all of you,” Sloane selfishly requests in which he quickly complies, raising his hips to pull his jeans down to his mid thigh and he expertly grabs a condom, slipping it on.

Her hands rest on his shoulders so she can lean in to kiss him messily, biting on his lower lip. The tip of his cock nudges against her clit then down her slit, collecting her arousal. “Put it in, sweetheart.” He orders and she complies once he moves his hand, her small fingers wrapping around his thick base as she guides it to her weeping cunt, slowly sinking down on him.

“Shit,” Javier’s head falls back against the headrest at the feeling of her tight pussy clenching around him. The windows have fogged up due to their ministrations, and there’s a slight rock to his truck once she fully sits on him and begins to move her hips, tastefully alternating between bouncing and swiveling around.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Sloane moans, her nails digging into his shoulders as she takes him on the ride of his fucking life.

He pinches her nipples then soothes the feeling over with his wet tongue, bringing her closer as he places open mouthed kisses all over her bouncing tits. The scratchy tickle of his mustache has her walls clenching around him viscerally.

“I’m not, oh f-fuck, I’m not Paloma. You don’ have t’hold back.” She sputters, slowing her movements. Immediately his demeanor changes, pulling back from her chest and bringing his hand up to grip her jaw.

“Touchy subject. I know all about it,” she licks her lips, urging him to tighten his hold on her face, “S’okay baby. Take whatever you want from me,” her voice drops to a whisper, hips beginning to move again slowly and sensually. “I don’t mind bein’ used.”

The clasp on her jaw don’t relent, her filthy words stroking his kink for hearing beautiful women be so vulgar.

“That what you want, babygirl? For me to use this tight little pussy of yours?” His hand lowers from her jaw to wrap around her neck, thick fingers pushing in to the delicate skin.

“Yes, please your cock feels fucking amazin’. You’re so big.” She relishes the feeling of his fingers wrapped around her neck and the lack of airflow, eyes fluttering shut and her lips parting open as he begins to thrust up into her, completely taking control.

Javier’s free hand grips her waist, guiding her up and down roughly. “Atta girl. Takin’ it so good, baby.” His grunts and her moans interwoven with the obscene sounds of her squelching pussy and his rabid thrusts fill the air of the cab, bodies glistening in sweat as he fucks her like she’s nothing but a toy.

Her walls cling to his cock when she cums all over him, the creamy ring of her release evident against the condom as she shouts his name with a litany of expletives, falling forward against his chest.

Both of his hands find purchase guiding her ass, the change in angle enough to bring forth his own orgasm, shooting his load into the condom and leaving bruises along her supple skin.

Sloane breathes heavily against his neck, her soft kisses trailing along the column of his throat and under his jaw as he tries to steady his racing heart, already craving nicotine.

“Mmm, that was fun. Save a horse ‘n ride a cowboy,” she giggles, pulling away to kiss him on the lips one final time before easing off his cock.

He only huffs as they straighten up and redress, stepping out of the truck. The subtle breeze offers a welcome relief from the heat that had built up inside the cab. Javier wastes no time lighting a cigarette, taking a deep drag and offering one to her, which she declines.

Tonight has been nothing but a blur of poor decisions, culminating in an act he can’t take back. The temporary relief he sought from his stress vanishes as they peel out. Alone with his thoughts, the magnitude of his actions begins to sink in. Fuck, why had he done it? Why hadn’t he just listened to his conscience and left? Why hadn’t he stopped when she said Paloma’s name?

Now he grapples with the repercussions of his colossal screw-up. Javier berates himself, unable to suppress the self-loathing that constantly gnaws at him but seems to be doing a real number on him now. How could he be so stupid, so weak? He let his primal, sexual urges eclipse his judgment, allowing a moment of feebleness to infiltrate his hardened demeanor and dictate his actions.

It’s the same vicious cycle he finds himself in constantly. The only difference is that he’s repeating it here and not back in Colombia.

With each drag of his cigarette, he replays the scene over and over, each time feeling a sharper sting of regret.

He feels Sloane’s lips on his neck, her hands on his shoulders and the sweat from her body clinging to him uncomfortably. He wants to wash it all off, baptize himself in whatever body of holy water that’ll refine his morals and character.

Paloma is everything he wants, whether he wants to admit it or not—kind, compassionate, and genuine. He doesn’t deserve her, that much is apparent, but it doesn’t deter him from how strongly he feels about her; even if he tries to stifle it and acts out like a complete asshole in hopes that he can trick his heart and mind into dismissing her. To no avail.

He’s jeopardized any semblance of reconciliation for a fleeting moment of escapism with Sloane. The stress he thought he could shed by seeking solace in another’s arms has only deepened, leaving him feeling more burdened than before. The emptiness of the night echoes the hollowness he feels inside. No amount of nicotine is going to change that as he thinks about Paloma.

He imagines her face, the pain and disappointment she’ll feel if she finds out. It’s a look that he hates he’s so familiar with, having hurt her more times than he ever should have. All that cruelty he’s inflicted on her to keep himself from hurting her further down the line has only doubled back with a vengeance.

He really is a piece of shit, as he’s been reminded of plenty of times by a vast amount of people—not just women, but colleagues, higher-ups, everyone. Then in the same breath being called a hero. As if.

He’s a bad person, undeserving of Paloma’s or anyone else’s love and forgiveness. So much for him wanting to better himself. If his mother, may she rest in peace, were here–– she’d definitely be disappointed by the man her son has become.

I didn’t raise you to be like this.

His fists clench at his sides, discarding the finished cigarette as he leans against the hood of his truck, running his fingers through his hair.

To spit in the metaphorical face of the so-called respect and admiration he has for Paloma, over something as meaningless as a fleeting fucking moment of lust, fills him with a profound sense of shame. He stands there, staring into the darkness, wishing he could turn back time, make different choices, walk away, and preserve her dignity.

To erase the pain he keeps inflicting on this poor girl.

But the damage is done, he thinks bitterly. There's no undoing it. Now he has to face whatever consequences come his way, knowing that he’s long lost the best damn thing that’ll ever happened to him.

The realization cuts deep, a cold, hard truth that he can’t escape. Paloma’s bravado, her gentle nature, and the genuine connection they once shared—all of it is now further tainted by his continuous thoughtless actions.

Italian translations:

Guardati. Così bella. Così giovane. Avvicinati, la tua somiglianza con lei è sorprendente. = Look at yourself. So beautiful. So young. Come closer, your resemblance to her is striking.

Sarai una madre fantastica. Più grande di quella che ti ha preceduto. Tante vite perse e valorosamente sacrificate per far posto a te. Paloma, la matriarca della nuova era. = You will be an amazing mother. Bigger than the one before you. So many lives lost and valiantly sacrificed to make room for you. Paloma, the matriarch of the new age.

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