Zoro and Robin parts, from the same night.

I'm sorry it's not lemon - I tried but I suck hahaha so I decided to remove it instead of embarrassing myself.

He slammed the purple door after him. His girlfriend glared at him as she took her black coat off and hung it on the coat hanger. "Don't slam the door!"

He groaned, annoyed. They had been literally screaming at each other the minute left the funeral of their dear friend, Monkey D Luffy. It was nearly midnight that they reached her apartment. He was physically and emotionally exhausted, and he just wanted to throw himself on the bed and doze off. He threw his coat on the chair, which seemed to invite another nagging from his dear girlfriend.

"How many times do I have to tell you, hang your coat! For God's sake, it's not that troublesome!"

He grumbled, took his coat and threw it on the coat hanger. "There. Happy? I'm sick of listening to you nagging all day. Just let me go to sleep!"

"Me? Nagging? Would it kill you to be just a little polite with the house?"

He ignored her, and pulled off his necktie, throwing it into the laundry basket. He sighed, still annoyed.

"Zoro, I'm not done talking to you yet!"

The laundry basket fell on the floor. "Shut up! Just shut up, Robin! I'm fucking tired!

This is how they spend their night, usually, three times per week at least. Screaming and shouting and cursing each other.

"You think you're the only one? I'm tired too! And I'm tired of cleaning up the mess you leave everywhere!" She threw a pillow cushion at him, but he dodged it well, causing it to hit a photo frame, which fell on the floor and cracked. He looked at her, angrily.

"If you're tired, then don't clean it up!"

"What? You think the house is gonna clean up by itself, is that what you think?"

Crash. The TV guide Robin threw across the room hit a little vase on the telephone table. Zoro grumbled again, and went into the bedroom, while Robin followed behind. "Don't you dare sleep on my bed tonight!"

"Fine! I don't want to sleep here anyway!" He shouted.

"I hate you!" Robin accidentally said.

Zoro stopped, he was about to pick up a clean pillow, but upon listening to those three hurtful words, he cancelled his mission. He gave Robin a rather sad, disappointed stare, and left the bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't answer. She chased after him, pulling his arm with all her might.

"Zoro, where are you going?"


"Please don't leave." Her voice was breaking.

"Why? Didn't you say you hate me?"

"I'm sorry. I love you. Don't go."

"I thought you hate me."

"No. I love you."

"Pfftt. Love." Zoro scoffed. He took his car keys from the table.

"Zoro, please don't leave."

"I'm tired. Just let me go home for fuck sake, I want to sleep!"

"So sleep on my bed."

"Why, so you can kill me in my sleep?"

Robin looked away, sighing, with tears in her eyes. "Sleep on my bed. I won't bother you. I'm tired of fighting." She wiped her tears, taking off her black dress so she could change into her night clothes, and picked up the laundry basket.

Zoro took the laundry basket away from her, and placed it on the washing machine. He took her waist, and planted kisses on her neck, on her skin. "I hate to see you cry. Don't cry," he whispered on her, cupping her face.

"I don't want to fight anymore," she told her, weak. "Please. Don't leave."

"I won't. I promise." He gave her a deep kiss that she could barely reply him, she gasped for air in between. Her fingers travelled through his hair, messaging softly his weak spot just right above his ear. He moaned in her mouth. He tasted the flaky salt on her skin – her tears wet and dry. She was sad and happy. He tasted the same thing after every bickering session he had with her. He knew she was a confused soul, and every time she pressed herself against him, he knew she wants to be filled, she wants him to consume her.

Nico Robin was a confusing woman, to begin with, like salt and sugar. Nevertheless, when he first found her, he instantly gave himself in to her – he gave her his tears, the tears of an ego man. He was like a polished steel lock, and she was the key.

He sucked on her lips like he sucked for dear life, but she didn't allow him to touch in between her thighs, though every thread of cloth left her body. He tasted like whiskey, his warm skin is the spice. Somehow in her head, she thought of something else. She thought of his scowls and screams, they came in like Chop Suey on a rainy night. How long will these routines last? How much more fights and make up until they finally settle for good?

Forever, she decided finally. She would cry the ocean if that is what it takes to make him stay.

This is how they spend their night, usually, three times per week at least. Screaming and shouting and cursing each other, followed by their rhythmic dance of making love.

"I'm crazy about you, Robin. You didn't know? You do to me like what the moon does to the sea."