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I eat my dinner in my bathtub

Then I go to sex clubs

Watching freaky people gettin' it on

It doesn't make me nervous

If anything I'm restless

Yeah, I've been around and I've seen it all

 When Zoro wakes up, sunlight is streaming through his window, illuminating his one bedroom apartment brightly. The light covers his entire bed, making it impossible to try and sleep some more. Zoro groans loudly, flipping over to his back and a glance at his flip phone tells him it’s nearly five o’clock.

Damn, he has to go to work soon.

He resignedly gets off bed and walks the few steps to his bathroom, not bothering to close the door as he pulls his pants down to take a piss and then wash his hands. He yawns widely as he makes his way over to his kitchen, though again, it’s not a long trip.

His entire apartment is around five hundred square feet, so his bedroom is literally his kitchen-slash-living room-slash-dining room-slash whatever else he needs.

He doesn’t need much, though.

He opens his fridge and only groans when he sees its emptiness. A look through his cupboards shows only two remaining cups of noodles and a moldy bag of bread. He really needs to go shopping for food, but for right now he heats one of the cup noodles and eats it with his fingers because he’s out of disposable forks, too. He can always stop by the convenience store on his way back from work.

Speaking of work, he should get going.

He debates taking a shower, but he showered two days ago and he still has half a stick of deodorant. His clothes don’t smell too bad, so he decides, fuck it, and simply slips on the jeans he wore the night before and a hoodie over his white t-shirt.

He grabs Shusui from underneath his single bed, making sure Kitetsu and Wado are still in their cases, safe and sound, before he leaves his apartment.

The day starts to die as Zoro tries to find his way to Dressrosa, the club where he works. It’s already dark and cold by the time Zoro starts to recognize the streets and by that time, it only takes him a couple of minutes to get to the club. He sneaks in through the back, not in the mood to butt heads with the moron bouncer who always wants to make life difficult for Zoro. The damn bastard very well knows Zoro works for Doffy, but he always insists on checking Zoro’s ID and calling in to verify. It’s a complete waste of time and one of these days, Zoro is going to beat the shit out of him.

The atmosphere inside the club does nothing to improve his mood. The place is dark with flashing strobe lights and it stinks of sweat, urine, sex, and desperation. It’s crowded, as always, and half the population is high as kite.

And that sounds like a wonderful idea right now.

Luckily for him, Baby’s at the bar, and that bitch is always willing to part with some of the goodies for just a ‘please’. Zoro doesn’t even really have to do anything except ask. He has no idea why Doffy keeps her around—sure, she’s obedient, but that’s about it.

“Hey, Baby,” Zoro greets, giving her a lazy smile to set her in the right mood. When she turns to look at him, he realizes he doesn’t need to, because she has that look in her eyes that tells him she’s already fucked up.

“Zoro! Hey!” she greets loudly, leaning against the bar and giving him a great view of her breasts.  “Pica was looking for you. Doffy has a big job for you tonight.”

“Yeah, sure. You got some chocolate on you?” Zoro asks, ignoring her words. He can’t deal with his narcissistic boss without a little hit. “I need it.”

There, the magic words. Every woman has a switch that’s turned on by three little words: Nami’s was I got money , his ex Maya’s was I love you , and Baby’s is I need you .

“You know I’m not supposed to be handing these out,” Baby tells him, but she already has the nondescript cig in her hand. “They’re expensive.”

“I’ll pay Doffy later,” Zoro assures her, snatching the cigarette from her. He won’t, he doesn’t make enough money to afford untainted opium, but it’s not like Baby is going to tell on him. She’s sweet on him. “Thanks, Baby.”

“Any time!” she calls to his retreating back. “I’ll be here if you need me!”

Zoro makes a detour to the bathroom to smoke in peace, though that gets ruined a little bit when two fucktards come in to suck face in one of the stalls; but as the drug starts to take effect, he stops caring about anything or anyone else, and that includes the soon-to-be HPV positive idiots fucking next to him.

One of the things Zoro’s come to know about his boss is that the bird man has the heart of a showman. He likes theatrics, symbolism and all that shit. And since he truly, honestly believes that he was born a king, better than anyone else, it’s not a surprise that his office is on the club’s second floor, overlooking his entire domain like a king would look upon his kingdom.

The man is dressed in that constant, dreadful pink boa coat and Diamante next to him doesn't look all that better with the bright red, tight leather pants.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Diamante sneers. “I was about to send someone out looking for you.”

“Got distracted.” Zoro shrugs and sits down in one of the comfortable chairs in front of Doffy’s desk. He smirks up at Diamante when the man scowls, but Doffy won’t say anything. The man doesn’t care enough to say anything, and besides, he knows how to handle Zoro.  “Baby said you had a job for me?”

“Yes,” Doffy answers. His voice irks the fuck out of Zoro, mostly because he always sounds like he’s mocking him, but right now he’s way too mellow to care. Damn, opium’s the shit! “I have a rather… important client that has been unable to pay his dues. Could you go ask him what’s the problem?”

“Sure. Where can I find him?”

“I hear he frequents Madam Shyarly,” Diamante sniggers. “Got quite a kink on him, that Senator Bastille.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow. A senator? Yikes, this really is an important job. Doffy won’t let anyone swindle him out of good money, but he isn’t stupid enough to play around with a politician’s future. Even Zoro knows that a man like that is a fountain of gold alive, but nothing but rotting bones when dead. And dead men don’t pay in gold.

“Don’t leave without at least five,” Doffy adds, almost as an afterthought. “And don’t let it show.”

“Got it.”

Zoro isn’t surprised such a high ranking politician owes more than five thousand to Doffy, and he’s not so stupid as to beat up the guy for the world to see.

A broken rib is really easy to hide, he knows from experience.

 I get home, I got the munchies

Binge on all my Twinkies

Throw up in the tub

Then I go to sleep

And I drank up all my money

Dazed and kinda lonely

 Madam Shyarly is the proud owner of Mermaid Cafe. On the surface, her ‘mermaids’ only offer company and conversation to hundreds of men that come to her little cafe every night. But Zoro knows that with the right amount of dough, those mermaids are quick to prove they ain’t got a fish tail and are quite capable of spreading their legs. Zoro’s not a saint, he’s visited the place in his weaker moments, even has a favorite, but he doesn’t consider himself a regular.

He’s not the type to pay for sex, and whenever he needs a warm body next to him, Baby’s more than happy to fit the bill. Or Monet. And even once, when he was in a darker place, Dellinger.

Still, it’s slightly disturbing when Keimi greets him by name.

“Zoro! It’s been a while,” she greets, giving him a winning smile. She’s fresh off the block, barely turned eighteen. Shyarly at least has the honor not to sell her underage girls, letting them mostly take care of the bar and kitchen, but once they turn of age, and if they’re pretty enough, they get introduced to the back rooms.

Keimi still has that fresh, teenage face that’s sure to bring many perverts her way.

“What can I do you for?” she asks suggestively.

Yeah, he doesn’t fuck kids. “Looking for a guy.”

“Um…we don’t offer that. That’s Iva over on—.”

“Not that,” Zoro snaps, rolling his eyes. “One of your clients. Bastille.”

“Now you know I ain’t supposed to give names,” Keimi reminds him. “I’m not the type that crumbles over a pretty face, you know.”

“Yeah? Somebody told me Ben’s your type,” Zoro says, pulling out the bill.

Keimi smiles, her eyes suddenly glinting brightly. “Yeah, well…I prefer twins.”

“You’re a damn brat,” Zoro growls, but sets down the two hundred dollar bills in front of her.

“Thank you,” she says primly. “Now, follow me.”

Zoro’s familiar with the layout, when it’s not moving, so he isn’t surprised when Keimi leads him behind the bar to the secret building that houses small yet beautiful decorated rooms. They’re muted, but Zoro can still hear the slick, wet sounds of sex.

“Room number six, Mero is taking care of him,” she tells him. “He’s one of the more…rougher clients, so the room does have a viewing area.”

“Yeah, I don’t care if he busts a nut or not, I need to speak to him,” Zoro growls.

“You may not care, but Mero doesn’t get paid unless the guy comes at least once,” Keimi snaps. “Are you really going to fuck her like that? We still gotta eat!”

“Fine, fine,” Zoro snaps. “Where’s the damn viewing room?”

Watching two strangers have sex was not the way Zoro wanted to spend the evening. He doesn’t really mind, though it does nothing to him. He gets what Diamante said about the Senator having kinks, because apparently the larger man gets off on rape role-play. The bastard even has a mask on and everything. It’s clear Mero isn’t really enjoying it—she’s a prostitute, she doesn’t have to enjoy it—so Zoro decides he’s had enough after the guy finally comes. Keimi did say at least once.

Zoro doesn’t really want to fight a man with his dick out—he may be bisexual, but he has a type and this guy clearly isn’t it—so he at least waits until the guy has his pants on. After that, it’s fair game.

Luckily, the Senator isn’t willing to part with his money, so Zoro has an excuse to roughen him up a little. A broken rib, a busted knee cap and a couple of slaps later, the guy is willing to part with his first born. What a fucking pussy.

“I only need five thousand,” Zoro tells the frightened girl after he’s done beating the shit out of the senator. “If he has any more, I won’t be the one to tell him.”

She clearly gets his meaning, because he sees her rushing to grab his wallet as he’s walking out the door.

Doffy doesn’t praise him, but he does give Zoro the rest of the night off, which is a plus.

He stops by a convenience store and spends all of his hard-earned money in booze, Twinkies, cup noodles, chips, and other assorted snacks. The cashier is clearly judging him, but Zoro doesn’t give a flying fuck.

He gets home and downs a six pack of beer, and since his stomach is empty but for some instant noodles, he ends up throwing up in his bathtub. He turns on the shower to clean off the vomit, then ends up falling asleep on his bathroom floor.

Another day in the life of Roronoa Zoro.

 You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you babe

I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

 He met Doffy through Crocodile, a couple of weeks after the cook’s wedding. He knows he went off the rails for a little there, though he isn’t much better now, but back then, he was unrecognizable without a beer bottle in one hand and a blunt on the other one. He took any job Crocodile sent his way in exchange of something—anything—that would make him forget.

Doffy caught him getting his dick sucked by some barely-legal guy in the alley behind Crocodile’s place. The teenager in question owed a couple of petty pennies to Daz and Zoro didn’t really feel like roughening up a teenager, so when the kid offered, Zoro said yes. He had the money to pay the other drug dealer and his hand just wasn’t cutting it.

For some reason, Doffy thought it was hilarious, so he asked Crocodile about him. Once he found out Zoro didn’t give a fuck about anything as long as he got his high, Doffy immediately offered him a job.

Zoro told him to fuck off at first, but as soon as Doffy mentioned that he’d have to move out of state, he agreed. The cook did tell him he didn’t want to see him anymore, and it wouldn’t be long before he came back from his honeymoon. Even if Zoro tried to avoid him, there was the possibility that they would run into each other.

So Zoro moved out of state.

Things with Doffy run at a whole other level though. Crocodile dealt mostly in meth, weed, and cocaine, and he kept to a small territory. Doffy, though…the man is international. He has every drug under the sky at his disposal, even has his own lab to create new ones, and shit. Zoro has only met Caesar once, but he knows the scientist is one of Doffy’s most prized possessions.

And yet, despite everything, it’s a life that Zoro understands. He’s created his own little routine that consist of sleeping through the day, getting high, drinking his liver to death, and fucking a different person every night just to feel something.

Sex, drugs, money, and alcohol are the only things that matter in this world, and Zoro fits right in.

He prefers the recollection department, where all he has to do is make sure people understand they have to either pay Doffy what they owe, or get the shit beat out of them. Sometimes, though, he also has to bring in new clients. Most people that get addicted on drugs do so because they want to. They come to places like Doffy’s club because they want to buy drugs, they want to see what it’s like. So it’s not that hard for Zoro to offer up a little white pill that promises to wipe away their frown and loosen up their bodies for the party.

Some kids come looking for something else, and Doffy doesn’t pay well enough for Zoro to say no when a guy or girl comes by looking to get fucked in exchange for a couple hundred. There was once a guy that wanted Zoro to cry and moan like a bitch, though, so Zoro quickly showed him who’s boss and still took his money.

Baby’s his favorite partner, though. The girl isn’t only beautiful, she also has no expectations. She wakes up before Zoro and is out of his hair before the dawn breaks. She doesn’t expect a morning after, she’s always willing to go at it anytime, any place, and best of all: she doesn’t talk.

She doesn’t try to understand Zoro, to ‘fix him’ or be ‘the one’ for him. She’s not like Violet, who was practically talking about marriage just because Zoro fucked her in the alley behind the bar. Baby understands that all Zoro wants is to bury himself balls deep inside of her and forget his own name.

She also never asks him who Sanji is or why Zoro once moaned his name during sex. She’s kind of perfect that way.

But the best thing about Baby is that she knows when to scram, a skill Zoro appreciates when he opens his door a late Sunday morning to find his past staring at him.

Robin’s smile is as fake as they come, but Zoro knows her well enough to know she still sometimes has trouble keeping her emotions out of her eyes. Right now, Robin is looking past him, at Baby who’s frozen midway through slipping on her jeans.

“Robin,” he breathes out, shocked. He changed his number when he moved from Atlanta and didn’t tell anybody where he was going, but he supposes that if anyone were to find him, it would be Robin.

“Hello, Zoro,” she greets in that insufferably cool voice of hers. Robin’s the type to never be affected by anything, and Zoro sometimes hates her so much it always hurts to be reminded that she was once one of his closest friends. You know, other than Luffy and the cook. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me; I was just leaving,” Baby says quickly, finishing slipping her jeans on and grabbing her purse from the bed. She smiles at Robin and waves goodbye at Zoro, offering nothing else.

For a moment, Zoro wonders who trained her so well. Sometimes, he thinks she has something with Gladius, but the other man is as much a prude as any Zoro has ever seen.

“May I come in?”

Zoro startles, staring at Robin with still-wide eyes. Her question brings him to the present and he hesitates before shaking his head. “How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t that difficult,” Robin shrugs, unperturbed by his rudeness. “Did you forget who I work for?”

Zoro grimaces. “Ah, so it’s about that.”

“Yes, though I won’t lie and tell you the others aren’t worried about you. I just figured you would contact them if you wanted to,” Robin says. “I don’t know why you left, but I respect your choices.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Zoro says dismissively. “Now, what’s the real reason you’re here?”

Robin stares at him with a pinched expression, but then she sighs and takes out a plain manila folder from her bag. “I apprehended Crocodile three weeks ago. His operation has been dismantled completely and all of his assets have been repossessed. I understand Doflamingo was a regular partner of his.”

“I don’t know what—.”

“It wasn’t a question. I know everything there is to know about that man,” Robin interrupts. “His late brother was one of my agents, a legend in the DEA. I know about the labs, the distributions, the kidnapping, the sex slave auctions for Shyarly. I just don’t have proof of them. Yet.”

Zoro is instantly on guard. He didn’t know about the auctions, but Doffy and Shyarly have always had business together. He did wonder where Shyarly got her girls, but never really cared enough to ask.

He doesn’t care about much these days.

“Still not getting the whole you being here bit,” Zoro says, yawning widely.

Robin scowls—the first real emotion Zoro has seen on her face since he met her—and slams the folder on his chest. “This is a list of my undercover agents. Stay away from them. I can only protect you so much.”

And with no other word, she leaves, leaving Zoro behind more confused than he’s been in his life.

 Pick up daddies at the playground

How I spend my day time

Loosen up the frown,

Make them feel alive

Oh, make it fast and greasy

I'm numb and way too easy

 There are moments when he feels almost normal, and then there are moments when he literally wants to crawl out of his skin and run away from everything that he is as a person. If he can even be called that anymore. Talking to Robin brings forth the latter.

Three months without seeing his friends is not a lot of time, hell it’s not even long enough for Zoro to quit the habit of reaching for his phone every time he gets lost to ask Nami for directions. He still wakes up expecting to find Luffy in his kitchen, eating all of his food, and sometimes he’s overwhelmed with guilt at the thought of Chopper finding him with a cocktail of narcotics running through his veins.

The worst he’s ever been was after a particularly vivid dream of his nineteenth birthday, when he spent the whole day with the cook and at the end of the day was gifted with Kitetsu, the beautiful sword Sanji had spent the whole summer tracking down just for him.

That was the day he fucked Dellinger, burying his face in the other’s blond hair and hating himself through every second of it.

But Dellinger is no longer available, since the newly turned twenty-one year old is one of Doffy’s favorites. So Zoro tries his luck with any of the poor chaps in Dressrosa, and finds his niche with the nervous-looking man sipping on a Cosmo at the bar.

He’s looks to be about a decade older than Zoro, thirty-four or thirty-five, but he’s attractive. He has reddish brown hair hidden under a hat and a slim body under a ugly brown overcoat. His whole body screams fresh meat, and there’s already a couple of sharks circling around him when Zoro sits down next to the man.

“Hey,” he grunts, motioning Baby for two glasses of whiskey, his preferred drink these days.

“H-hello.” The man looks at Zoro with wide eyes, raking his body, then blushes a deep red and looks away.

Zoro grins, leans back against the bar with a heavy swagger, and takes the drinks Baby offers.

“Here, drink this,” he orders, handing the second glass to the man.

“Um, I’m fine. I—.”

“This one’s better,” Zoro interrupts, insisting. He knows he paints an intimidating picture, which he accentuates by scowling darker. The man practically scrambles to drink it, coughing most of it up because he’s clearly not used to the burn.

Zoro snickers and down his own drink. He studies the ill-fitted business suit, paired with the brown comfortable shoes, and the strange stains at the bottom of the white shirt.

“Rough day at work?” he asks.

The man blinks, surprised. “I wasn’t—I’m a dentist, actually. This is…long day at court.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow, curious. “So what was it? DUI? Public indecency? Punching a cop in the face?”

“You’ve done that?” the man asks, incredulously and Zoro only grins. “No, um parking ticket. But, ah…apparently, my wife wants a divorce.”

“Ah. Then one glass isn’t going to be enough,” Zoro says and motions for Baby to bring him a whole bottle.

The man puts little resistance, and after the third shot, he stops spluttering and eases up. Of course, that also means he starts running his mouth and Zoro has to put up with the man’s whining about how much he still loves his wife even if the woman did cheat on him with his boss, cousin, and who knows who else.

“Well, man, sorry to tell you this…but she sounds like a real bitch,” Zoro says, starting to think this is way more hassle than the man is worth.

“No! She’s…gorgeous!” the man slurs. “We were…high school sweethearts. Prom King and Queen! And our kids…look!”

Zoro stares at the multiple photographs in the man’s wallet. He has one of those flip compartments that unfolds to reveals about four or five pictures of his entire family, which consists of a pretty dark-haired woman and three children, the oldest of which looks around ten and the youngest five.

“This is your family?” Zoro asks, his eyes glued to the pictures.

“Yesh,” the man slurs. “I fucking love them so much. I should…talk to her…we can still work it out, right?”

“She cheated on you,” Zoro reminds him.

“I love her.”

Why? The bitch cheated on him with his cousin. She asked for a divorce, she’s already hooking up with some other dude, took everything from the poor bastard next to him, and he still loves her?

“Well, go for it,” Zoro says. “But first…I’d like to show you something.”

The man beams at him and eagerly follows him towards the top floor, towards the back where is quieter and darker, and less of a chance of someone interrupting them.

“W-what’s this?” the man asks, looking around the narrow room with confused eyes. “You wanna show me this?”

“No,” Zoro says. He slips his hand in his back pocket and shows the man the little baggy with three white pills inside. “I just thought you should have a little fun.”


“Yeah. You know…she did cheat on you. Maybe we oughta even things out.” Zoro takes a pill and grins when the man’s eyes widen.

“I d-don’t k-know…”

“It’ll feel good,” Zoro promises. “Here, let me help.” He puts the pill on the tip of his tongue, and before the guy can bring up any other excuse, Zoro kisses him. The guy gasps and Zoro uses that to slip the pill in, internally grinning when he feels the man swallow.

He doesn’t stop the kissing, walking forward until they hit the small bed. The man falls back willingly, wrapping his arms around Zoro’s shoulders and gasping into the kiss.

Zoro breaks it off before they run out of breath and leans back to stare down at the other man. He’s blushing bright red, the color running down his neck to his chest, and there’s a thin layer of sweat all over his skin that makes him glow a little bit. He really is a handsome man, well-built and well-kept, and when Zoro unbuttons his shirt, he sees that he’s also fit.

Zoro slips his own shirt off and grabs the man’s hand to bring it to his chest, letting the man feel his hot skin. “So…what do you say?” Zoro whispers huskily.

He sees the exact moment when the man’s resistance slips away, but he still waits for the man to speak the words: “Okay.”

Zoro grins. “I’ll make you forget all about her.”

 You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you babe

I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

 His name is Jackson, and he keeps coming back for more. He pretends like he’s not looking for it, but they both know how the night is going to end. He tells Zoro that they’re going to stop soon because his wife is giving him another chance. But two weeks later and he's back, except this time his gold wedding band burns a trail on Zoro’s skin.

Zoro hasn’t forgotten about Robin, nor about the names on her list. He wonders if he should tell her that Vergo is double-crossing her, but then decides against it. She always has an ace under her sleeve, so it’s about time Zoro has one, too.

He doesn’t tell Doffy about  Violet, Pink, and Bellamy, but he does start keeping a close eye on them. And he starts backing up his interests. One of the few good things about being known as the fucked up, self-destructive guy is that Doffy doesn’t believe Zoro has anything to live for so he usually doesn’t worry about keeping secrets. And well, he really doesn’t. But one thing is not giving a fuck about what happens to him, and another completely different is allowing someone else to fuck up his life.

There’s only one person that can fuck Zoro over, and that’s himself.

Locations, names, bank account numbers, aliases…Zoro knows it all. He’s practically an Executive already, except, his pay is still crappy as fuck.

And then, Zoro finds out something really important. Doffy has gotten into the habit of risky business. The man thinks he’s untouchable, the best thing since sliced fucking bread, and he’s become very selective about the advice he listens to. So it really doesn’t surprise Zoro when Baby tells him that Doffy is extending business over with the Russians.

“I thought he only traded with Mexico, India, and Italy,” Zoro frowns.

“That’s because Crocodile took care of Egypt, Russia, and Japan,” Baby explains. Her slender fingers are running strange patterns on the soft skin under his belly button, and Zoro can already feel the small traces of arousal running through him. It’s early in the morning, so if she keeps this up, he can manage another round or two.

“So Doffy took Russia? What about Egypt and Japan?”

“Egypt was taken over by the Nefertari. Cobra’s a surprisingly ethical man, considering his biggest business is narcotics. He doesn’t do human or weapon’s trafficking, though, so I guess that’s what they mean when they call him tame.”

Zoro snorts. “And Japan?”

“That’s a new guy. They call him Kid…I don’t know if that’s his real name or Diamante is just making fun of him. Either way, he’s quickly rising in the business and becoming a thorn on Doffy’s side. But well, we got the bigger deal. I heard the Russian big boss also uses swords to fight.”

Zoro perks up at that. “Yeah? What’s his name?”

“Hmm. Mihawk, I think.”

Dracule Mihawk. Zoro knows him, though not a lot of people do. He’s famous amongst swordsmen, and Kuina used to have a major crush on the guy when they were kids. She had a dream of one day defeating him, and Zoro joked that he would, too. But then she died and life happened, and while Zoro still practices his skills, he has no illusions about his strength. Fighting the other man is suicide, and honestly, even thinking about it feels like such a damn bother.

Zoro snorts loudly and turns suddenly to straddle Baby. He’s already hard and she’s still loose and wet, so he easily slips in. She gasps loudly, closing her eyes for a second, her fingers digging into his biceps.

“What’s so funny?” she gasps out.

“I used to be a wishful kid,” Zoro answers honestly, starting a lazy rhythm. “What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

Baby bites her lower lip, the flush on her cheeks spreading down to her bouncing breasts, and a low whine escapes her lips before she answers haggardly. “B-ballerina. You?”

Zoro doesn’t answer out loud. He wanted to make people proud. He wanted to make Kuina proud. She was the one who loved swordsmanship, the one who eagerly followed after their father trying to learn his skills. Zoro only dragged along because she was his hero and he wanted to be just like her when he grew up.

Except she didn’t get to grow up, so Zoro didn’t know what to do with himself. So when people asked, he told the same thing he used to say: I want to become a great swordsman. He said it enough times that he believed it. That everyone believed it. All of his friends were so sure that one day Zoro would defeat the greatest, even after Mihawk went underground a couple of years ago. The cook gave him Kitetsu, Brook introduced him to the legendary Ryuma, Chopper treated all of his injuries, and everyone else supported him any way they knew how.

“Zoro!” Baby gasps, her grip almost painful. “Shit—oh my fucking god!”

Zoro grunts with effort, wrapping his arms around her waist to drag her onto his lap. He can feel her breasts pressed against his chest, and his hands squeeze around her round ass, pushing her down hard every time he thrusts up, and when she licks and nips at his lips, he opens his mouth and lets her kiss him because that’s one of the only things she asks for and Zoro isn’t such a bastard that he won’t even give her that.

Her mouth tastes saccharine sweet and he hates the feeling of her thick gloss on his lips, but he kisses her even more fiercely because everything about her is wrong. She’s fucked up and broken, empty and lonely, and he’s exactly the same. And he knows that he’ll feel like dying tomorrow, that he’ll hate himself and berate himself after she’s gone, but that’s okay because Baby is so fucking dirty already, it doesn’t matter if Zoro taints her just a little more, and vice versa.

Because he doesn’t care who he fucks, the feelings the day after are always the same ugly, twisted feelings that bleed in his heart, but at least with Baby, guilt isn’t one of them.

 Staying in my play pretend

Where the fun ain't got no end


Can't go home alone again

Need someone to numb the pain


 Jackson wades out of his depth. Zoro never noticed when the man started frequenting Dressrosa more often, and he didn’t really care if the man was a little more clingy than usual. It’s not the first time Zoro has brought a new client to Doffy and the man clearly makes enough money to pay for the little pills he begs for every time Zoro fucks him.

But he notices something’s wrong the second time Zoro brings the man to his apartment. Zoro didn’t think much of it when Jackson asked to see his place, and he wouldn’t have noticed anything either if the man had not pulled such a temper tantrum when he found Baby’s lingerie amongst Zoro’s dirty clothes.

“Chill out,” Zoro snaps after Jackson is done shouting at him. Weed doesn’t do much for him, but that’s all Baby had on her when she came over in the morning, and he wasn’t going to say no when she offered. “I’m not cheating on you because we’re not a thing . You’ve got your wife, don’t you?”

“Is that the problem? Then I’ll divorce her.”

Zoro freezes, his mind taking a while to catch up to the words. “What?” he finally gasps.

“I’ll leave her,” Jackson promises, kneeling down in front of where Zoro’s seated to look him in the eye. “I love you.”

Laughter bubbles up inside of him, but it doesn’t come out of his lips. He knows what Jackson is feeling, and it isn’t isn’t love. He’s experienced the same thing with Daz. Because Zoro’s an addict, just like Jackson, and Daz was the one who fed his addiction. Every time Zoro needed him, needed to forget and fade to black, Daz was there with his salvation. Daz was always there for Zoro, never once failed him. And if Zoro didn’t already know what true love is, if he had never fallen for the cook and had never experienced true, uncorrupted love, he would have mistaken that feeling of gratitude for love, too.

But clearly what Jackson feels for his wife isn’t as strong as what Zoro feels for Sanji. Or what Sanji feels for Conis.

“You love me?” Zoro asks quietly, and anyone who knows him would immediately recognize the danger in his voice, but Jackson clearly doesn’t. “You’ll leave her?”

“Yes,” Jackson says quickly. “For us. And you’ll leaver her, too, right?” he asks, bringing up Baby’s bra.

Zoro stares at him, then shrugs. “Alright. If you leave your wife, I’ll stop fucking Baby.”

“Anyone,” Jackson corrects quickly, eagerly. “You’ll be only mine.”

Zoro scowls, but quickly smooths out his expression. “Okay. But you’ll have to divorce her. And I don’t like kids, so you’ll have to give them up, too.”

“I will, I will,” Jackson says without hesitation, without even thinking about it, and it takes so much for Zoro not to punch him in the face right then and there.

“I’ll give you a little treat for now, but you can’t see me again after this until you bring me proof that you’ve left her,” Zoro tells him and Jackson nods quickly, almost like an excited puppy. “Good boy,” Zoro says, and Jackson clearly doesn’t hear the mockery in his voice. “Turn around. On your hands and knees.”

Jackson doesn’t even question him, doesn’t offer up any resistance. He moans when Zoro enters him and loudly whines and cries out as Zoro uses him to get off. And yeah, Zoro does feel a little guilty. He was the one who gave Jackson his first pill, but Jackson was the one who kept asking for it.

Blaming himself for Jackson’s addiction would be like Daz blaming himself for Zoro’s. Daz didn’t force him, Zoro was the one who kept coming back for more. Zoro has no one to blame for what he’s become, not even Daz, and let alone Sanji.

He was the one with the choices, he was the one who broke down and chose the easy way out. But Zoro already had lost everything when he gave in to his addiction. He didn’t have Kuina, he didn’t have Sanji, and he felt like he didn’t have his friends, either.

Jackson was given a second chance by his wife, even if she is a cheating bitch. He has kids, who probably love him, if the loving pictures are anything to go buy. He had no reason to come back for more, absolutely not one.

In love with Zoro? The man has no idea what the word means. He doesn’t know anything about Zoro; does he really think the way Zoro fucks him is love? Does he really think just because Zoro makes him come, that he cares for him?

Does he really think Zoro can care about him even a small fraction of the amount he cares for Sanji?

Jackson comes loudly, and when Zoro’s done, he turns around and kisses him. Zoro accepts the kiss, and he lets the man cuddle against him and fall asleep next to him. Zoro leaves him there, naked on his bed, and leaves a note telling him to meet him in Dressrosa once he’s got his divorce papers.

And when Zoro goes to work, the first thing he does is look for Dellinger. The younger man is in the middle of a transaction with an older man, dressed in tight booty shorts and high stilettos, his lips painted a blood red.

“What do you want?” he snaps, glaring at Zoro even as he grinds on top of the man, giving him what’s undoubtedly an amazing lap dance.

“I got a client; he’s…going a little strong.”

Dellinger raises an eyebrow. “Does he owe us money?”

“Not yet,” Zoro admits. “But he’s got that look. Won’t be long before he does.”

“So why do I need to know? Take care of him.”

Zoro grimaces. “I rather not. I’d owe you one.”

That makes Dellinger pauses. “Are you asking me for a favor, Roronoa Zoro?”

“Yeah,” Zoro says, resigned. “I am.”

Dellinger grins dangerously wide. “Really? He’s one of yours, right? You do know how… playful …I can be, right?”

“Play with him all you want,” Zoro snaps. “Just keep him away from me.”

“Ooh, that sounds interesting. How do I  know who he is?”

“He’ll come looking for me,” Zoro explains. “If he comes with divorce papers in his hand, he’s all yours. If he doesn’t…just kick him out.”

“Divorce…Zoro, do you have a stalker ?” Dellinger snickers. “Oh my god! You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t fuck your way through life.”

“Shut the fuck up. He’s just another addict,” Zoro snaps. “Are you going to do it or not?”

“I’ll do it,” Dellinger shrugs. “If you didn’t fall for my good looks, like hell am I gonna let that bastard think he has a chance.”

Zoro rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Dellinger.”

“No problem!”

He knows he’ll come to regret the favor, but it’s not like he has another choice. He even feels a little bad about setting Dellinger loose on the unsuspecting bastard, but three weeks later, when he spies Jackson amongst the other dancers in Dressrosa, a manila folder tucked at his side, he loses any feelings of guilt.

And when Dellinger comes to him a couple hours later, his hands bathed in red and a copy of Jackson’s divorce certificate in his hand, all Zoro feels is…nothing.

“He was a cutie, Zoro,” Dellinger tells him. “Maybe I’ll keep him to myself. Once the bruises fade, of course.”

“He’s all yours.”

 Staying in my play pretend

Where the fun ain't got no end


Can't go home alone again

Need someone to numb the pain

 Mihawk arrives, and Doffy closes the club for him. Zoro is given the day off to do whatever he wants, but he wants for pretty much nothing these days. So he’s at home when the package arrives.

“Thanks,” Zoro tells the mailman, taking the thick envelope from him. He grabs his beer from the table and settles down on his bed, turning on his TV to Cartoon Network before he rips open the envelope and empties its contents on the bed.

The first thing he sees is a picture of himself. He’s in an empty parking lot, surrounded by unconscious bodies, and he’s in the process of beating the shit out of a sixth man. This happened three days ago, against a small-time gang that was edging on Doffy’s territory.

There are a couple more pictures of himself doing various illegal activities, the worst of which includes stealing a car because—as he remembers it—the owner of said vehicle pissed him off while he was drunk.

There’s a short note, written in Robin’s elegant, cursive writing.

I thought I told you to watch your back. Don’t take advantage of our friendship.

After the note, there’s a little ziplock bag with the all of the picture’s originals. Zoro snorts and sets them aside to burn them later. Most likely, Bellamy was the one who took the photos. Zoro remembers seeing him around, and he knows the man carries a grudge against him since he’s got the hots for Baby.

Despite being a low-life criminal, the guy is a surprising romantic. Wants to give Baby the good life and all that. Zoro actually thinks he’ll be good for her, but Baby’s too far gone to see an out to her fucked up life, and Zoro won’t be the one to tell her otherwise.

He really should give his thanks to Robin, not that he asked her for the favor in the first place. She’s doing this because she wants to; Zoro has no problem going to jail. Well…it might be a bitch getting his fix behind bars, but hey, maybe he can get rehabilitated.

He laughs at loud at the absurdity of the thought. Nah, he won’t get arrested. Robin has his back, no matter how tough she may act. She was once messed up, too, perhaps even worse than he is right now, but she managed to find a way out. Luffy knows more about the details than anybody else, mostly because he helped her out of it.

Is she trying to help him? Well, the difference between Robin and Zoro is that Robin didn’t have a choice. She was forced into it, while Zoro waltzed his way in. Robin wanted to be rescued, Zoro does not.

He looks down at the contents, picking up the pictures again to see what other dirt Bellamy picked on him.

Selling, dealing, blackmail, violence, drug use, property crime…you know, the works. Zoro snickers at the picture of  himself punching a cop in the face. He didn’t get arrested because said cop is one of Doffy’s clients. Yeah, sure, he could arrest Zoro and send him to prison, but he would lose his job, family, and career. No one cares about a lowly thug in jail when they can focus on a corrupt man in blue.

His laughter falls flat at the next picture, and surprises himself by the ugly sound of pain that escapes his lips.

It’s a picture of Sanji. He’s smiling brightly at the camera, tears in his eyes, dressed in blue scrubs and his sweaty hair is pushed back to reveal both curling eyebrows. In his hands, so small that it looks like nothing more than a bundle of blankets, is a baby.

His baby.

Sanji is holding his baby like it’s the most precious, most delicate thing in the world, and even through the picture, Zoro can read the joy and pure happiness on Sanji’s face. He’s looking straight at the camera, but his arms are holding the baby snugly, warmly, and one of his hands is holding its tiny hand—so tiny that the whole fist isn’t big enough to grab on to one of Sanji’s long fingers.

Zoro turns the picture around and reads the second small note Robin left: Her name is Cloe Vinsmoke. I thought you’d like to know.

Zoro doesn’t even process that fact that’s he’s thrown his beer bottle against the wall until he hears it shattered. The noise is like a shock, and he jumps out of his bed as if it were on fire.

“Fuck her,” Zoro growls, not knowing whether he’s talking about Robin or the little baby girl. “ Fuck her.”

He quickly searches through his stuff until he finds the piece of paper he was looking for, then grabs his keys before he’s out of his apartment. It takes him a while, but he does eventually find the man he’s looking for.

“Hey, Roronoa, how’s it—.”

Zoro doesn’t let Bellamy finish the greeting. The man hits the floor, nose broken, but Zoro hardly cares about that. His friends, the other fucking members of the small gang, crowd around him, but Zoro drops them all.

Shit, he forgot to bring Shusui with him. He could’ve sliced Bellamy in two in one second, but then again, beating the shit out of him is kind of therapeutic. The larger man is no match for Zoro—never was and never will be—but Zoro doesn’t take it easy at all. He doesn’t care where his punches land, doesn’t give a fuck where he kicks, and he only slows down when Bellamy is unconscious.

But he doesn’t stop there. No, he grabs Bellamy by the hair and drags him to his car, grabbing the keys from Bellamy’s pocket and drives to Dressrosa. The club is closed down, but he texted Baby to open the door for him, and she does.

“Zoro—holy shit, what happened to him?” Baby cries.

“Me,” Zoro growls. “Call everyone!”

“They’re all at the bar—Zoro, the other way.”

Zoro motions for her to show him the way, now dragging Bellamy by a probably broken leg. Just like she said, the Family is gathered around the bar, and Zoro’s gaze only stops on Mihawk for a moment before he drops Bellamy and slams the note he took from his bedside table in front of Doflamingo.

“Care to explain who did this?” Doffy asks, not bothering to look at the paper Zoro gave him, his eyes on Bellamy.

“I did,” Zoro grunts.

“And why would you almost kill one of my best sellers?”

“If you’d look at the note, you’d know,” Zoro growls. “He’s working for the DEA. That’s a list of all of the people that have infiltrated you.”

Doffy’s gaze narrows and he finally grabs the note. He doesn’t drop the smile, but the vein in his forehead is bulging in anger.

“How did you get this?” Trebol demands.

“None of your fucking business,” Zoro snaps. “I got my sources. Investigate all you want, you’ll see I’m not making this up.”

“And why would you give this to me?” Doffy asks dangerously.

“I thought you’d like to know,” Zoro shrugs.

Fuck her , he thinks again, but now he knows exactly who he’s talking about. Fuck you, Robin.

There’s only one person that can fuck Zoro over, and that’s himself.

 You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you babe

I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh