{zoro x oc} stick 'em with the pointy end

1. what dreams are made of

During the Arabasta Arc, leaving Nanohana

☽ ◯ ☾

{ play: alrighty aphrodite by peach pit }

Zoro was staring at the scars and ink that swirled around her arm, stretching from her wrist up to her shoulder and across her chest, gently framing her collarbones. The day she got her tattoos covered with the vines that she now displayed confidently - he had been impressed by her tolerance for pain.

His eyes followed the vines form her collarbones down to the cleavage her shirt revealed. He got up and made his way to her. She set down her drink and turned to face him, the sash she wore right around her waist was laced through his fingers and he began to untie it. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in, her face inches from his own.

When he reached for the daggers at her hip she slapped his hands away. She smirked and unstrapped the daggers herself.

"Wouldn't want you to cut yourself," she said as she walked across the room to place the daggers on the table.

He raised his eyebrow, her tone testy and playful, making her all the more irresistible.

"Well in that case, don't come near me," he said as she started back in his direction. She stopped.

Zoro unbuckled his own scabbards, one by one. Each sword he removed, she stepped a little closer.

His third and final sword now placed aside, "All clear?" she took one more step towards him.

"Hm," he huffed. Her large eyes had become his weakness the minute he met her back in the East Blue. Stormy eyes, their ferocity enhanced by her elvish ears and silver hair.

"Right," she reached behind her, pulling out three throwing knives. She placed them on the counter they stood beside. "All clear."

Zoro closed the space between them, placing his hand along her cheek. It was finally happening.

Zoro pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers. They were sweet and salty, soft, tasting of the chili salted mangos she loved to eat.

The kiss quickly turned into more. She ran her hands along his torso, tugging on his linen shirt.

"We can't, not here..." she said quietly into his neck.

"We'll be fine," he said through little nips and kisses he made on her bottom lip.

He pulled his shirt up and off, taking note of how her eyes lingered on his body, his scars. He smirked and loosened his pants, taking his boots off and stepping out of the pants.

Her breath hitched and she froze.

Zoro, feeling suddenly vulnerable reached out for her, "What is it? We don't have to do this." He bent down, reaching for his shirt.

"No -" she pulled him up, her hands on his tough forearms, "I want to."

He looked to her slender fingers, the scarring faded out at her wrist, the inked vines did their best to distract from the old wounds. He thought back to the first time he noticed these details. Her dagger was at his heart and she had pinned his hands behind him. These fingers could have been the last thing he'd ever seen. Hers was a feat that not many could say they achieved. He smirked at the thought and stood up pressing into her.

"You've got too much on," he scoffed at the linens she wore.

He made quick work of sash and her top, pausing to admire her breasts. He had imagined them so many times before.