Anon: heeeey! I have no idea what kinda music you prefer to listen, but would you consider making a zoroxsanji/sanjixzoro fic were you use something from the song Blood by In This Moment? It doesn't have to be really angsty, but maybe something bit more darker and aggressive than you usually write.

I don't normally listen to this kind of music, but hey, try new things everyday! So I listened to this song and idk this is what unraveled in my head. Hope you like it!

Broken glass littered the floor, wine dripping from the splattered mess on the wall like a bloody crime scene. With a crash another plate smashed against the wall, the clatter lacerating the silence and ringing in the air.

Sanji kicked the run-down sofa in the middle of his tiny apartment, the wooden frame snapping and tumbled over. Sanji stumbled back into the kitchen, falling to the ground in a tired mess, hiding his head in arms and curling around himself. Tears trailed over new fresh bruises on his right cheek bone and jaw, his lower ribs aching with each sobbing intake of air. He felt like hurling but his stomach was empty.

"I fucking hate you, you shitty bastard." He cried to himself in his empty apartment. He could still taste blood in his mouth, running his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all still there. He was cold, like the blood in his body was slow and had turned to mud; like his river had been run dry and all that was left were the muddy banks.

With shaking hands he pulled out a cigarette and lit it in his trembling mouth, trying to get his shot nerves to calm down. When had his life come to this?

Even with double bolt locks on his door, Sanji hadn't really felt safe living in this shady part of town, but it was all he could afford and he couldn't move. He fucking hated this place. He supposed it'd made sense he'd eventually run into a guy like DonQuixote in this kind of town.

When he and Sanji had started dating, it was great: the man had money, power, and for once in a long time Sanji felt safe. But then things… Changed.

He didn't have much to him anymore: never in his life had he thought he'd be caught in a pimp's trap. He'd been violated. Dominated. And he didn't see a way out… Until that bastard undercover cop showed up.

"You don't have to keep fucking saving me!" Sanji screamed at the bloody cop he'd dragged out of the fray and back to his home. "I'm not worth it you shitty bastard! Stop choosing me."

He'd screamed that after the second time Don had caught Zoro in his territory, trying to convince Sanji to come back with him. The bastard was fucking crazy.

The first time he'd met Sanji, he was undercover and was planning on arresting Sanji. But Sanji had… Fallen apart would be an understatement. So Zoro awkwardly comforted him in that dingy shitty motel, letting him dampen his uniform's sleeve his Sanji's tears. He gave Sanji a wad of cash and left, promising Sanji that if he caught him prostituting himself again Zoro'd send him in.

Time passed, he'd see Zoro every so often on the street at night, the bastard would chew his ear off, saying how if Sanji didn't clean up his act Zoro would arrest him. But the shitty moss head never did.

Sanji picked up a shard of glass at his foot, examining the moonlight in it that filled the small room. He remembered the first time he and Zoro hooked up.

He didn't really remember how it happened, it just did. Zoro wasn't like Sanji's forced fucks, he was… Perfect. The fucker just had to be perfect, had to say all of those kind words, had to pull him back from that edge he had been so close to jumping off.

Then Don found out.

Which led to Zoro's current residence in the hospital. And it was all Sanji's fault.

Sanji didn't know if the other man had made it through the night, with no way to contact him; he wouldn't be able to face Zoro in a hospital visit, even if he could even make it to that side of town without Don stopping him.

Sanji's first furled around the shard in his hand, it crumbled into jagged little pieces with a sharp 'snap' and burrowed into his palm. He stared at his hand like it wasn't his own; the ripe blood dripping down his arm seemed so foreign.

He hated Zoro for every time he bled for him. He hated him so much.

But even worse than the hate, Sanji loved him, and he hated him even more for that.