pastels

an anthology of sorts: collecting all my noteworthy roronoa zoro/perona drabbles from tumblr and posting them on here. drabbles might be canon, might not, might be interconnected, might not. content is questionable, but that's half the fun. really.

i. blur

zoro would rather get socked in the jaw, again, than admitting as much to her. she's godawful when she's cocky, especially around him.

alternative universe; ambiguous relationship, kind of sexual, kind of cute, kind of mentioning violence a lot.

an application of lana del rey on this couple, nothing more and nothing less. beware of a mellow vibe. it's so apparent in the writing, it might as well have been an actual lana del rey video clip.

i hereby disclaim any rights

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She's a walking, talking and infuriating paradox but she doesn't complain much when he shows up at her door with a split lip and a knife wound on his forearm. Her bedroom is all pastel colors, posters of animal skulls on the left wall, too much light falling in from the large window this early in the morning, pink bracers above her bed like a horseshoe for luck, and a crucifix above her dresser. (Eat me, Drink me scribbled in mauve at the feet of the cross) It's as complex and cluttered like her personality, but the oddness of the combination could almost be considered artistic.

Zoro would rather get socked in the jaw, again, than admitting as much to her. She's godawful when she's cocky, especially around him.

"Who did you pick a fight with this time?" She asks as she presses a cloth dipped in medicinal alcohol to the back of his wrist and she clacks her tongue when he hisses at the burning sting that inevitably soaks through his nerves.

He clamps onto her bare shoulder with his free hand and mutters, "Daz Bones. One of Croc's guys, y'know."

It would be unlike her to utter the "well shit" they're both thinking, and it'd be an utterly appropriate reaction to his recklessness, but instead she only pushes the cloth a bit harder as she goes down the expanse of his forearm to the sharp of his elbow. If he's honest, he would've one hundred percent preferred the "well shit".

"Sometimes I really don't know if you're just plain stupid or just really really careless." Her reply is dripping with irritation, thick like cough syrup and twice as hard to swallow down. Zoro shoots her a halfhearted glare.

In response, she leaves her bright lipstick behind on the strap of his white wifebeater. Her mouth feels hot and heavy despite the cotton between her lips and his bare skin. Perona chuckles when he scowls and she gets the roll of bandage from the first aid kit. It looks like it's from a kid's store, because it's bright pink and has animal stickers all over it. The cross is colored over with black magic marker. He always, automatically, thinks eat me drink me when she comes into her bedroom with the box in her arms.

"I was looking for some stress relief." He eventually says, feeling the warmth of the morning sunlight on his back, falling in abundance inside from the large window behind him.

She responds perfectly catty that his stress relief always ends up with her doorstep full of blood. Zoro knows better than to believe she's genuinely angry at him. If she'd really be pissed at him, he'd stay far far away from her doorstep. He always had the suspicion she really knows voodoo.

Perona finishes dressing his wound and plops down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her nose into his soft messy hair. He responds by holding her and rubbing his coarse palms over her pale legs.

"This is the last time." She whispers, this time in a voice like whiskey, the rich type you get drunk off.

Zoro barks out a laugh and rebukes, "That's what you said last time." His fingertips skirt at the hem of her floral pyjama shorts.

She kicks the balls of her heels against his right calf and falls down on the mattress, using his lap as support for her ass and upper legs as she stretches her arms over her head and stares at the white ceiling. Sunlight catches in her long hair and gets stuck, playing tricks with the pink color. Zoro starts to rub her kneecaps and tease his way between her legs. He could use her as stress relief, but she deserves better. Pretty girls with big mouths like her only end up in loads of trouble with guys like him. And vice-versa, he supposes.

"I mean it this time." Perona threatens, but it has no bite. She shifts a bit and spreads her legs a bit and his right hand dips in between her thighs.

He wonders why she put on lipstick for him, why she even bothers when the first time she met him she threw her glass of pink lemonade in his face, ice cubes and all. The sound of glass breaking an interruption in the smooth salsa rhythm of the music playing. Zoro wants to be nicer to her, but his fingers always seem to itch for a fight, to see if he can take someone bigger and tougher than him on and that's the opposite of nice.

"Really really, you asshat." She murmurs as one leg slides off of his lap and her back arches when his fingers come to splay playfully over her crotch.

He hums and whispers, "Maybe you should mean it really really one time." Maybe it would be better if he didn't have her as a lifeline anymore, if he has to beg Chopper or Law to patch him up instead and undergo disappointed glances or scrutinizing with that touch of patronizing only Law can pull off.

Perona chuckles again and stares at him with half-lidded eyes. She looks so pretty just lying here, half on top of him. His heart skips the proverbial beat when he realizes he isn't going to leave until at least after lunch. He should really tell her he's fallen in love with her one day.

She pleads him to lie next to him, to hold her and be quiet so they can sleep, because he got banged up pretty badly. It's a miracle he doesn't need stitches. Zoro pretends to grumble as he pulls off his shoes and socks. Shadows play along the scars on his ankles, that got tattooed across. He spoons her and pets her hair.

"I'd miss you." Perona confesses as she settles against his chest and presses a kiss to his left nipple, another mark on his clothes.

He places his chin atop her head and mutters, "I guess I'd miss you too."

The stomp she gives him in the stomach wasn't entirely undeserved, but she didn't have to hit that hard. Zoro grins widely regardless. He wants to call her princess and kiss her square on the mouth but his bottom lip is still too raw, like the undercooked beef Franky serves on his bbq's. Not as pink though, more the blotched red from horror movies, the kind she likes. Her shampoo scent fills his nostrils as the warm sunlight cradles them both.

He'll take her out to the beach once, at sunset. Hold her hand when she asks him to. Perona deserves a lot more than that for being there at his beck and call when he gets beaten up or beats someone else up or just ends up with his mouth full of blood, but it's a start. Zoro falls asleep pretty easily, her bed is just that comfortable. She's just that comfortable, if not that inevitably bit weird. Guess he likes her that way.