A/N: Trying my hand at writing a story
for the first time while not being down and
depressed. Although the subject matter is
dark, explicit, full of angst and more mature then
anything I have ever attempted before, I am looking
forward to writing this in clear state of mind.
...
Summary: Time flies, and consciousness ticks away unknowingly
as exotic beats and tantalizing curves distract any poor unfortunate man
caught in the haze from realizing his impending doom.
One woman with a sweet feminine song hooks the Swordsman's attention…
no matter how fleeting and how hopeless he won't lose himself to time.
He won't lose his Nakama.
He won't lose her.
...
Warnings: Rated M for the ever elusive 'Mature'
graphically erotic (later chapters) as well as
bloody, full angst and all that good stuff,
along with a very emotional romance.
Mushy gushy love Roronoa Zoro style *cough cough*
...
Disclaimers: One Piece and all it's characters belong to God Oda
and Toei animation, if Zoro were mine, we'd be married and I'd
selfishly keep him all to myself. Good thing he
doesn't belong to me xD
...
Last Notes: Enjoy ;) Kindly R&R, much appreciated!
*blows kisses, sprouts Sanji heart eyes*
...
I
...
Roronoa Zoro was surrounded by eyes, widened in shock, accompanied by disgust . He adapts quickly as pair after pair of eyes accompanied by furrowed, disapproving brows, narrowed wearily and locked on him. The harsh gazes were full of malicious intent, but the swordsmen wasn't about to piss his pants even knowing that table after table was full of men that saw him lower than vermin. He fears nothing, and no one, he reminds himself of this and soon feels the left corner of his mouth tug upward into his signature smirk. As he does so a bottle falls to the floor and shatters. It breaks the stifling silence as its contents spill out onto the cold wood floor, courtesy of a frightened barmaid.
Two loud squeaks are heard, one from the woman, and the other from hinges that are in desperate need to be oiled. A man appears through a door behind the counter of the bar that must of lead to a back room. Without even paying mind to his surroundings the said man shoots an unnecessarily harsh look at the woman.
His sharp voice snaps at her, "You stupid clumsy bitch, that's coming out of your paycheck, pick that shit up."
"But sir the pirate," she protests.
The swordsmen ever so cockily cocks his brows and smirks at the misogynistic buffoon, who finally takes notices that his own bar is cast in uncomfortable silence. He looks to Zoro, bright green-haired, and rough on the eyes, reeking of arrogance and clearly the cause of the stick up everyone's ass. The ex bounty hunter is very aware he's pissed this man off in mere seconds just by breathing the same air as him. He enjoys it so very much as the man's expression quickly grows condescending, because the scornful vein popping on his large forehead betrays his deep rooted insecurity to Zoro.
The swordsman's sharp eyes flicker from him and onto the barmaid, she shivers, as she should because he is a pirate after all. She doesn't know him, she has no idea nor any reason to believe that he's not going slaughter everyone hear. It's no bewildering revelation for Zoro to see she's torn between doing what she was told by her bastard boss, and being so afraid of the swordsmen she might piss herself.
It's not like Zoro wants to stay in this place and cause anymore hullabaloo, but he's well aware of the impossibility of running away without being chased down is out of the question. His only hope is to stun all of them with the backs of his blade. It's not like he'd bat an eye over it, for a Navy only bar, they were certainly capable of treating their women like shit. He snorts, amused knowing their facade of self righteous characterization. Not to say that all of them were scum, but knowing that this particular group of them were made the prospect of any blood he spilled here a lot easier on his conscience.
It is not to say he was nearly as chivalrous and passionate about protecting woman as that cook, but he certainly had no qualms carving up any bastard who laid hands on one. It's quite obvious that's the case here. No women in her right mind would shakily get on her knees and cut her fingers picking up glass because some half wit dick told her two.
His dark orbs scan the room, there were approximately twenty people in here give or take. Easy. Quick. Knock outs. He was growing tired of taking in the thick heavy atmosphere. All he'd wanted was to find a bar to lose time into alcohol, and introverted people watching on a bar stool to himself. For all his good luck and safe close calls, life dulled him an equally bad hand full of bullshit like this.
He looks back onto the shaking woman, who's still trying to pick up the shards of glass with her bloodied fingers in fearful haste.
"What the fuck is a piece of shit pirate doing walking in my bar!? And stop staring at my bitch," he barks, as he predicatively reaches behind his counter to pull out a rifle.
"Actually I was looking at the lady, because I was about to advise her to leave, unless she wants to see all the blood when I sever open your jugular," the swordsmen says in a disturbingly frank tone, he's not serious though, but they don't need to know that.
Whispers from the appalled, mildly horrified patrons, and the gasp escapes the woman's pale lips buzz in his ears. He eyes her again, ignoring the others, paying no mind to the being gun pointed at him. Instead he flashes a smile as the blonde, who's pale gaze is now locked on him in a mix of bewilderment, fear, confusion, and a hint of arousal that he certainly does not miss.
He cocks a sharp brow at her knowingly, "I suggest ma'am, that you get out of here before I begin."
She begins to nod, but stops immediately when another bark is sounded. The swordsmen flashes a weary glare at the man and takes a couple steps forward.
"I'll shoot! You hear!?" he yaps, cocking the rifle.
Zoro shrugs and continues forward. "Do it. I know that if I turn my back to leave you'll just fire at me anyway, I prefer to take things head on."
The man's eyes widen, almost popping out of his anger reddened face in flabbergasted fury, he waves the gun, shaking in rage, "I'll shoot! I mean it goddammit!"
The green haired male flashes a taunting grin, "Well then do it already than," he pauses and shoots a charming wink at the blonde now standing behind him, her porcelain cheeks flush. He turns back to the trigger happy moron, "I'm trying to flirt, and you're killing my vibe."
The man's face had become so deep red in his infuriated, mindless state, that the swordsman is convinced he's going to turn purple. He can hear voices chuckling viciously, full of excitement over his probable doom and eager to watch the chaos unfold. They've probably already started betting over who gets to mop his blood off the floor. The swordsmen ignores this, they have no idea what he's capable of, and that's just the way he likes it.
"I will kill you! One step more, you got that!?" he hollers.
"You mean this right," Zoro mocks as places one worn leather boot clad foot in front of him.
The thunder of gunfire sounds off in that tiny bar and it echos with ferocity, with the intent to pierce through the swordsman's scarred chest and bring him to hell. In an instant Kitesu is drawn. All that can be seen by the human eye is flash of menacing bright silver, black and bright green. The barking man goes from standing triumphantly in the security that came with the belief he had gotten the shot, to being flung back to the shelves, connecting with a harsh slam. Shards of glass go flying as the shelf cracks from the blow. The swordsman mentally mourns the perfectly good puddle of various liquors decorating the floor.
"What a waste," the swordsmen mutters, but at the very least feels mild satisfaction in knowing that annoying, pompous bastard was knocked out cold from the hard blow he inflicted to his gut. The pirate was standing on top of the bar without a single scratch on him. No one who had watched the scene unfold could tell you exactly how any of that happened, all of them simply stared dumbly, their mouths were gaping wide. Zoro decided that all together they resembled a school of fish out of water.
"Anyone else wanna talk shit," he challenges in his thunderous baritone.
They all shake their heads simultaneously. The swordsmen considered this, and he decided since they were all making that same stupefied, horrified expression, that his luck had come back to him. He was going to get away with out being chased by an angry mob. Sure enough the small sea of men simultaneously swallow in fear as he leaps off the counter onto the floor. Despite his sword being sheathed, they nearly fall out of their chairs to back away from him.
He grins as he turns to make his leave. He can't help but immediately pout when it dawns upon him that the cute blonde young woman was nowhere to be found, she must of bailed. It's hard to stomach a man who can dangerously attack at a milliseconds notice, so the swordsmen isn't too broken up about it.
Aroused by danger, but won't invite danger into the bedroom. Zoro would simply acknowledge that as her being intelligent. Sure he was indeed disappointed about his lack of the lay h thought might get, but he was also not the sort of man who believed he was entitled to a woman because he saved her. Thinking like that is reserved for scum. Besides Zoro, self aware of his attractive muscular form and pantie dropping smirk is sure of himself that he can find another girl in a bar meant for his kind of people of course. Not much more thought goes into the whole thing.
He makes it to the entrance and promptly stops in his tracks, "Shit," rolls off his tongue.
He'd forgotten about those stupid silent alarms, and standing just outside the place was a distressing amount of armed Navy men, who looked eager to blow his 120,000,000 worth head right clean off. He groans to himself as he draws his blades Kitetsu and Shusui. Just when he thought his good luck was set in motion, it's quite the disappointing hassle.
Roronoa Zoro had grown accustomed to a number of strange things and instances since joining his captain Strawhat Luffy, whether it was battling sea kings and devils fruit users alike. A cyborg and a talking skeleton in his own crew, really what are the odds of that. When he had a few drinks loaded in him, he often found himself amused that a man of bones, and a man of metal were both on the same ship, along with a half human reindeer. Not only that but a selectively cold blooded woman who could sprout extra arms whom he had one point distrusted with every fiber of his being, and oh yes of course his captain, a rubber man with a bottomless pit for a stomach.
Oddities like them he could work with, in fact he'd grown to like them after exposure to their sort of strange for about year or so. Despite being able to warm up to those guys, he certainly couldn't seem to get cozy and comfortable with the annoying realization that he is constantly getting himself into trouble due to his lack of an internal compass and compulsive, spirited nature. Almost always resulting in relentlessly getting chased by marines.
The thing about those uniformed douchebags, was that even though they came at him with a death wish, if he attacked one and injured them in defense it would start a whole world of trouble that he simply did not have the fucks to give for. Then again he's already wanted for killing many of them on numerous occasions, and now the knocked out bar owner is added to the list. Their desire to kill him was fairly merited as Pirates and Marines most primitive purpose towards one another is to kill the other.
If he silenced them all with his blades, he knew Nami would have him in a choke hold of dept for causing such problems and ripping them from the low profile they've maintained on this island the last few days. Though it was against his principles to do so, he decided it best to make a run for it instead of instigating them further.
Out the window of the bar in a flash and up the fire escape he leaps to the roof of the next building. Worn leather boots running along slippery tiles. He does his best, skillfully keeping his balance with cat like approaches. Zoro doesn't turn around to look, aware he's still being intently pursued. The firing of pistols and the bullets flying at him from behind and the curses of his name, the spitting that he is bloodthirsty demon a testimony to that. He continues to make his getaway, gaining momentum as he reaches the end of the roof and instead of stopping like they are sure he will he jumps, landing on his feet with a loud thud on the next building edge and knocking tiles off the roof top.
He cringes when he hears one man scream out, almost immediately accompanied by a stomach turning thump that silences him. He was the only one that tried to make the jump along with the swordsmen, and he paid the price for it. Most unlucky for him, but really the most unlucky ones out of this is the wife and small child he probably has waiting at home. Zoro furrows his brows, mentally cursing the man for being so stupid, already welling up with guilt he shouldn't feel, but can't seem to shake off. He knows it's not his fault the man couldn't make the jump, and it was own idiocy that killed him, but sure enough he'll be blamed for it and continued to be chased down by some fiery, vengeful, young personality with a gun. Those never mix well together and unfortunately for the Zoro, they seemed to be a common occurrence in his life.
He can already hear the said man swearing at him, calling for him from the ledge. It's not like a normal man could make a jump like that. Unless dealing with a higher ranking marine most of these navy guys were fodder. Zoro didn't have the patience to put yet another barking dog out of its misery today, and simply hoped that it wouldn't show up later to bite. He continued on to the next building, and next and so would undoubtedly be coming for him later, but he needed to find a place to rest before the next chase.
The fiery haired navigator would be pissed with him when and if she catches wind of all the trouble he'd sparked today. Zoro knew she felt a low profile while the log was setting was of the utmost importance, because it was a reckless death wish to leave an island before it sets. She'll have him by the shirt collar, knock him over the head and spit vile things at him for the anxiety he's caused her.
He knows very well this all is unquestionably his own fault despite circumstances being unfair to him. His bad sense of direction that he'd admit to only to himself, and a lack of common sense to back off when provoked often was the source of the messes he encounters. All he'd wanted was a beer and a warm, secluded place to sit in. He didn't realize he was walking into a navy bar. It's not as if there are many clues until you actually get in the place. Sure there were wanted posters on the walls with knives thrown at them but that existed in a pirate bar all the same. That blonde barmaid was dressed just as scantily as any, and the place wasn't even especially nicer from just scanning the entry way.
It was only until he entered and his presence was known that he felt the eyes of everyone in there to lock on him with the desire to smash him like a roach. Now he was strained, beer-less, tired and forced to run for all he was worth. Just another day in the life of a pirate. After Nami was finished kicking him in her pedicured, heel adorned feet, she'd laugh at him for this. The Cook would call him a moron and pick a fight with him.
He decided it best not to mention this when he finds them again unless it was necessary or came up against his will. He hopes the Luffy is off getting into more trouble then he just did, that should take the spotlight off of him.
Continuing across rooftops, he feels confident he's lost his pursuers by now. He'll continue to scan his surrounding below. Cook said today he'd go to the market, located in some main part of town. He keeps his eye out for bustling crowds and tents below, but so far he has yet to pass such a place. Though he's normally pegged as an introvert, and certainly had beef with the blonde chef, after such events Zoro craved to be in the presence of someone he knew. He absently wonders if that is a sign of weakness on his part, but quickly dismisses the thought. He's in no mood to self analyse.
...
Through her window the noon sun's light seeps in uninvited and announces the day. Bright and oh so obnoxious, it felt as if someone were shining a flashlight in her face. The harsh knocking rattling her door no longer startled her like it had done in the past. It just frazzles and perturbs her. She groans in protest and for a few more minutes tries to fight the menacing days call, but the light, the noises from the street and the abhorrent knocking forced her tired soul awake.
She sat up, yawning and raising her arms up to stretch her spine. She rolled her neck to complete the stretch and then absentmindedly felt around with her feet for her slippers, slipped into them. Then she strolls to her door, swinging it open to glare her green eyes at the towering, suit glad goon of a man.
"I'm up goddammit, enough," she snaps, exasperated and bitter.
His thin lips curve up into an amused smile, "Hurry and get dressed, you've got a long afternoon preparing, and an even longer shift night," he reminds her before heading back to the front door to wait for her.
She slams her door, holding her breath in fury before she finally lets out a long and heavy sigh. Each and every day, she is constantly doing her best to suppress the urge to claw those cocky eyes of his out with her long manicured nails. She simmers down and but the ever present, seething rage writhes within her.
Lashing out to authority, though so desired by her pained heart, was the most reckless possible act that her brain reminded her she could an all too familiar sense of dread, her slim fingers reach up to undo the tie in her hair. Her long raspberry red tresses curl and cascade down her back as she simultaneous lets the silk night gown slip off her petite and curvy form and onto the floor. Her slipper clad feet carry her slowly to her wooden wardrobe, but she quickly reaches a halt.
Her alexandrite orbs capture something more breathtaking then anything she's ever been graced with viewing before, and he's right out her window. Flying.
That he is, she swears… at first. She quickly realizes that he's just running but in such an expedited, glorious manner that he's capable of leaping from building to building. Quickly coming out of her initial bewilderment, she hurries to get right up to the open window. Eyes locked on him with the same fervent attraction that bees and hummingbirds hold for flowers. Sort of like a moth drawn to light, she gets a rush off this wild sight. A man, with bright green hair, a youthful, lean, desirable physique leaping from building to building. Ever so frivolous and unconcerned about seemingly anything.
She subconsciously reaches out her hand, wanting to touch him, or at least to be that much closer to him. No matter how slight and pathetic, as close as she can possible get will do. She completely loses herself. She's not aware of who she is, couldn't tell you her own name because she'd too busy wanting to know his. Infatuated and sparked, she can't even recall that she's quite frankly completely nude. Overwhelmed completely by her dominating craving to get a taste of the the freedom he exudes; the kind she longs for more then anything else in this world, she's senseless and lunacy stricken.
A gasp falls from her rosy lips, reality slaps her when he meets her gaze. Dark amber and alexandrite green collide, and she wonders if he too is experiencing the heat that tingling her nerves unbearably. Her new found lust for him smolders. It only burns hotter within her as a very attractive grin appears on his chiseled features. She's now fully aware of her naked state of being. The haughty smirk that replaces his smile ensures that he too is pleasantly aware of her body. Her unwavering stare will be simplified to basic sexual attraction. It becomes apparent to her that she will be, if remembered by him at all; just some beautiful, possibly crazy, nudist of a young woman. An outrageous, horny, moronic female, gawking at him from her window. At best she may earn a spot in the thoughts that fill his head when he wanks, but she will be nothing more to him.
He does not have the slightest clue, that he is light, shining warm and bright, ever so enrapturing into her dark existence. The beautiful stranger is painfully unaware that he's left her to drown in longing and suffocate in the unfulfilled desire to have him in her arms… to be in his. Come back... she wants to scream. To call out for him brashly. Ever so boldly beg him to share with her that untouchable, effortless freedom.
A good man, a bad man, she doesn't care.
He's merely an infatuation, a false hope to entertain.
Coming to terms with the fact that he is hastily disappearing from her view causes her to fall to her knees, her shoulders shake and the pounding on her door starts up relentlessly again. The harsh voice she dreads demands her to dress faster, calls her names, spits out disheartening malice until she feels so small that she sees no point in screaming out for the free spirited stranger.
Even if she had cried out desperately for help, he would have dismissed her, likely consider her crazy. Her desperate calls would fall deaf, meaningless to his ears, Just as her prayers for a chance to start anew, always had in the past. He would not be any different. No one could save her, and try as she might, every which way in the past, she is well aware she can't save herself.
She's hopeless.
He's a free bird of flight, and she's caged with clipped wings.
She rises feebly from her knees to her feet, hurrying to hastily rummage through her clothes to dress and then hurries to her door. She pauses, feeling more foolish than she ever as she whispers to herself,
"I want fly away with you…"