Slyhersophia - Sophz - Tumblr Blog

Drew Starkey and Madelyn Cline at the OBX season 4 premiere in Charleston

'tis the season 🎃

happy october! 👻

the dichotomy of girlhood

GUYS WHAT HOW HAVE I NEVER KNOWN THAT THERE WAS A GRAYSON POV FOR THIS SCENE?

🍂 Do you think we’ll be in love forever?

🍪 Books books and books! Apple cider donuts, cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate keep me alive. Gojo’s wife, Rafes ex, Jacks’ admirer.

Books: The Inheritance Games, AGGGTM, Once upon a broken heart, Caraval, The Hunger Games, Heartless, Powerless

Shows: Gilmore Girls, AWAE, MLWTWB, OPLA, Wednesday, TVD, Outer Banks

Movies: Enola Holmes, Twilight, TBOSAS, Little Women

Animes: JJK, KNY

Links: Pinterest

Current Song on repeat: My love is mine all mine

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა Baking so I don’t have to think about anything else >>>

speaking my truth guys

girls are like “I want a boyfriend” but reject everyone because none of them are their comfort characters

You’re all I want.

Pairing: Gojo x reader Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, crack at the end because Gojo copes with humor :") Content: Gojo comes home after the Shibuya accident and you try your best to ground him back to you. WC: 1.5k

Satoru steps into your shared home, suddenly feeling the fatigue weighing down on his body. Soft lighting filled the room, courtesy of the gentle glow of the lamps you excitedly asked him to buy. 

It was 2 am and he just came home from Shibuya, and after everything that has happened to him, his arms are itching to hold you. He wanted nothing more than to pull you close and let the beating of your heart lull him to sleep. 

He lets out an audible sigh of relief when he sees your figure curled up on his side of the bed, you were wearing his sweater. You turn your head to his direction when you hear the door open,  “Satoru?” you mumbled sleepily. Then just like always, you stood up to greet your husband. 

“Sweetheart,” he smiles at you, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist.  “I bought macaroons from a newly opened cafe in Shibuya, you’d love it.” 

He still hasn’t taken off his blindfold, the fabric covering his eyes, putting a visible barrier between you and seeing your husband. He’s putting up his ‘the strongest’ persona so you gently cup his face before taking off his blindfold. “Didn’t I tell you to take off your blindfold when you’re around me?” 

He lets out a chuckle and affectionately nudges you, accompanied by a subtle teasing lilt in his voice. “Can’t hide anything from you, Y/N.”  

You take into his appearance— how certain parts of his uniform are ripped and stained with dry blood. Then you noticed his eyes, how the bright blue irises bore the weight of exhaustion and you knew immediately that this mission is unlike the usual ones. There was a profound sadness that lingered within the depths of his gaze and your heart aches at the thought of what he must have gone through the past few hours.

“I missed you.” he breathed out, the words hanging in the air like a whispered confession. He said it like the words are scarce, as if he was unsure if he really came back home.  “I thought I wasn’t gonna come home tonight. I had to. I promised I would, didn’t I?”  

A soft, almost imperceptible smile plays upon Satoru's lips, but the warmth he gives falls short of reflecting in his eyes. Your fingers instinctively find their way into his, gently squeezing his hand. You press your forehead against his, assuring him that he’s safe and you’re real. “I missed you too, Satoru.”

Satoru leans in and pulls you into a gentle and lingering kiss. and you kiss him back eagerly, ardently— so grateful for your husband keeping his promise to you. you sigh into his mouth, and he breathes you in, 

You press your forehead against his once you pull away, your fingers tracing his cheek, “Thank you for always coming home to me.”  

You are Satoru’s anchor, and you in all your strength, refuse to let him sink. 

Usually, you and Satoru have a routine after his missions. You prepare him a proper meal for dinner, knowing full well he isn’t eating anything healthy when you aren’t around to scold him. You listen to him ramble about his students or the sweets he brings home and you tell him all about your day as he munches on the food you prepared. Then after that, you take a relaxing bath together, washing away all of the remnants from his mission, physically and figuratively. Then, you find solace in each others’ arms. You let Satoru hug you all night while you gently run your fingers through his hair.  The details might shift depending on the mood but the core remains constant— Satoru’s routine wouldn’t be complete without you in it. 

Tonight, you decide to skip the meal part. It was past midnight anyway.  “Bath?” 

As you prepare for your bath, stepping into the shower, you notice the unusual quietness from Satoru. Typically, he’s constantly talking, excitedly telling you anything that comes to his mind. But today he lets himself be vulnerable around you. 

Opening the shower, you invite him in, holding Satoru’s hand as the warmth of the cascading water surrounds the both of you. You take the opportunity to shampoo your husband’s hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp, having to be on your tiptoes to reach the top of his head. He crouches down a bit to meet you halfway, sneaking a hand to your waist. 

“What’s on your mind, ‘Toru?”  you break the silence, your fingers continuing massaging his scalp. His eyes avoid yours. 

“I just—” He hesitates before he responds, his voice breaking. “I almost got sealed because I got distracted during the fight. Nanami was severely injured and a lot of people died today. We saved a lot of them thanks to my students.  I just hope I’ll be able to protect you forever.” 

Your heart aches at his raw confessions, the gravity of what he’s endured weighs heavily on you both. You attempt to soothe his pain with all that you can,   “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it right now. I just want to let you know I’m here.” 

You took your time lathering his body with soap, caressing with your soft fingers as they tracing patterns on his skin and he allows himself to feel the exhaustion, finding a momentary respite in the gentleness of your touch. With you, he surrendered. 

He held onto you in desperation and hugged you tighter. Then he released all of his pent-up emotions, quiet sobs filled the room and you held him through it all, feeling his tears as they mingled with the water streaming down on your shoulder. Your other hand finds tracing comforting circles on his back.

“Hey,” you grab both of his hands and entwine your fingers with his, gazing into his eyes sincerely.   “I’m right here, Satoru. We’re alive. I’m safe. You’re safe. Let me carry your burdens with you. ” 

Satoru remains silent but the way he’s holding onto you speaks volumes. You’re certain that he’s clutching onto every word that you utter.  You delicately wipe away his tears, your touch felt divine on his skin.  “We’re jujutsu sorcerers, risking our lives is what we do. That’s why every second that I’m with you matters.” you say gently, offering a small smile. 

His eyes, puffy and red, meet yours with gratitude. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckles. “Damn you for ruining my depressing moment. I was deep in my feels.”

There was your Satoru, him and his theatrics. 

Once you’ve fully brought back your energetic and joyful husband, your bath session becomes less and less productive as he wouldn’t stop lathering soap, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, on your butt. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Yes?”

“I’m cleaning it, baby. If anything you should thank me.” He says, feigning innocence. Although his smirk gave him away. 

“Really? Just my ass? You’re squeezing it, Satoru!” you squeal, momentarily breaking away from him only to be pulled into his arms once again. You burst into laughter and he giggles in reply, like a motherfucking child.

He exaggerates a groan and sneaks his hand to your butt cheek once more, resting his head on your shoulder.  “It’s ‘Toru to you! I’m sad and stressed, let me be. Please let me use it as a stress reliever.” He pulls away to look at your face before wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, “and aren’t you the one who suggested this shower?” 

“Because you stink” you mutter under your breath, the words barely audible.

In response, a loud smack resonates around the bathroom.

“Did you just fucking slap my ass?”  you exclaim, a mix of surprise and indignation in your voice. 

“I absolutely did not.” he declares, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.  He hugs you once more,  burying his face in the crook of your neck. In your embrace, his pain and burdens dissolve into your arms, leaving only the love you give him.  You are all that he wants, all that he can think of and he silently wishes— begs any omnipotent god to allow him to get infinite moments with you. 

He pulls away from the hug and cups your cheeks with his hands and you both stare at each other, engraving this moment into your souls, hoping there won't come a time where you’d lose one another. 

“I love you, Satoru.” you say sincerely and of course he responds to it without hesitation. “I love you more, Y/N.” 

“I love you most, then.”  you reply cheekily, grinning. 

A pout adorned his face, huffing at your statement. “That’s not fair.” He protests.

Knowing that he’s losing the fight between your silly banter. He attempts to assert his victory. “I love you mostest then!” 

“Satoru, we both know that’s incorrect grammar” you point out, playfully rolling your eyes.  “I also can’t believe I’m doing this cheesy shit with you.” 

“We have been married for a decade, sweetheart.” 

God, Satoru loves you so much.

a/n: nanami did NOT die in my mind :D hope u guys enjoyed!

wanna read more?

mind over matter pt. 2

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: couldn't still believe that this ff blew up like tysm for all of your support! and thank you so much for waiting~ and like always, this is not proofread lol

previous / masterlist / next

“if i'm not mistaken, the mission would take at least three to four business days.” yaga passes satoru a sheet of paper where it contains all of the information he needed to know and what kind of things he should focus on investigating.

satoru looked at his former teacher in uncertainty despite the blindfold in his eyes. he's very hesitant to take the mission not because he cannot beat this curse, but because he still needs to apologize to you as soon as possible.

“yaga, c—can i not…” satoru was about to continue when he suddenly trailed off.

“not what?” yaga raises his eyebrow.

but to think that it's all his fault, he must have really hurted you this time, and you wouldn't probably hear him out that easily. that is why satoru thinks that it is best to just give you some space as of now, and when he comes back from his mission, that is the time when he would bother you with his presence.

“it's nothing. i’ll be taking my leave now.”

“very well—” before yaga could even finish his sentence, satoru already vanished in thin air.

the duo, yuuji and megumi, was on their way to visit you just like what they had promised to themselves a while ago.

it was around eight o'clock in the evening and here they are, kind of tiptoeing through the hallway where your room is located.

“i think it's better to let her know our presence first.” megumi said quietly to the pink haired male while holding out a basket with foods that are suitable for digestion of a pregnant lady.

“then it wouldn't be a surprise if we told her.” yuuji then answered. he was carrying two board games on his left arm and a uno card on his right hand. you actually once told them that you were exceptionally good at these kinds of games, so yuuji wanted to test that out.

suddenly, the two boys stopped in front of a door where they immediately froze at the smell of something oddly familiar. “me…megumi, is this y/n sensei’s room?” yuuji slowly mumbles out a word, his eyes going wide.

however, megumi didn't answer him. instead, he immediately tries to open the door without any hesitation just to know that it is locked.

panic slashed across their faces as the smell of blood coming out of your room becomes the leading factor of their franticness behavior.

“y/n sensei! are you there?!” yuuji keeps on calling out to you while megumi does the door breaking.

“it's locked! i can’t break the door!” curse these doors in jujutsu high. megumi could not help but to mumble profanities when he remembered that the doors in jujutsu high are purposely made this strong so any invading curses could not sneak in especially during sleeping hours where most of the sorcerers are vulnerable.

“itadori! call yaga sensei and shoko-san, quick!” megumi screamed at the other boy, whom he instantly obliged.

a weave of panic surge on their bodies because you are involved in this situation. not to mention, you are pregnant on top of that and that puts the situation into a more nerve-wracking experience.

sweat drips on megumi’s forehead as he still tries to break the door. kicks and punches were made but still the door wouldn't flinch his attacks. the idea of using his curse technique came into his mind but he's afraid that it would worsen the situation.

sooner and faster, yuuji came back with the two elders running faster than before. both also have a panic flash on their faces as yaga begins to break the door with his insane force. and after countless tries, he successfully invades the door.

everybody froze at the sight, because there they saw you, lying unconsciously in a pool of your blood that trickled down on your lower body.

“shit! what happened?!” shoko was the first to react and immediately came closer to you to check your pulse, it was there but weak. then shoko proceeds to check your baby's heartbeat, and to her disappointment, there was none that she could detect.

“yaga sensei, please help me get y/n to my clinic. now!” without a further do, yaga carefully lifted up your body and then proceeded to follow the frantic shoko to her said clinic.

on the other hand, yuuji and megumi watch the two elders quickly move away from the scene and that leaves the two. they had been quiet all the time, probably still traumatized because they just saw one of their teachers (plus with an unborn child) on the literal verge of dying.

megumi's eyes trailed on the pool of blood that had been sitting on your floor. he could tell that you had been unconscious for like way past an hour now due to some parts of the blood being fresh while some parts were dried.

“what the hell just happened…?” yuuji was still flabbergasted. he would never expect that this would happen when he just visualizes this night as a fun one because he got everything ready for a surprise mini party to cheer you up.

“i don't know.” megumi solemnly answered.

“...do you think y/n sensei and her baby would be alright?” yuuji added, totally worried about your situation.

for the first time in his life, megumi didn't think he that would utter the same word but with a different tone, different meaning, and in a different situation.

“i…i don't know.”

satoru gojo was busy walking through the busy street of roppongi despite the sky being nighttime. the whole atmosphere was still so lively from bright signage up to crowded night market stalls. this makes a perfect night for a perfect leisure.

but satoru isn't here to do that. he was supposed to do a job and finish it as soon as possible so he could get back to you and finally do the right thing.

he was about to enter an abandoned building when he received a phone call. without looking at the caller, he answered.

“what?”

“where are you?” it was his corporate friend, nanami.

a teasing smile made it into his demeanor. “oh wow! here is my underclassmen calling me first—!”

“i am asking you, where are you?” nanami was clearly not in the mood for his bullshit. his tone was beyond serious and it made satoru wonder if something happened.

“i'm in roppongi. somewhere behind a luxurious night bar.” gojo said.

the moment he said his address, the phone suddenly dropped. confused, the six eyes looked at his phone then just shrugged it off. for the second time, he was about to enter the said building when someone appeared from behind.

“you should go back.” there he saw nanami, breathless as he tried to catch his breath. looks like he ran his way towards his location.

“yo, my man! what are you doing he—”

“go back to the jujutsu high. i’ll be taking your mission here.” nanami explained like he was .

did something happen? was on satoru's mind.

“why?” satoru dropped all of his mischievousness as it was replaced by his unhidden worry—you were literally there at the jujutsu high.

there was a pause on nanami, he seemed very hesitant to say it and satoru was growing impatient.

“just say it nanami—”

“yaga asked me to take your mission on your behalf after something happened. it's about your wife. she was found unconscious in her room.”

never ever in his life he could feel the quickest adrenaline rush in his body as nanami didn't even manage to utter the last syllables of his sentence when satoru already uses his technique and teleports himself towards your room back in jujutsu high.

and there, he was welcomed by the janitors of the said school, mopping the dried liquid on the floor. the smell was so familiar that it made his body tremble in a span of a second.

“w-what the fuck happened here?” he asked the janitor who looked at him in pity as he continued to solemnly wipe the floor.

“miss y/n was found unconscious and there was blood…in her lower area.”

blood, y/n, unconscious, my wife, danger, the baby…my baby!

that was the only thing that came into his mind as he went out of the hallway and ran somewhere he wasn't aware of. his mind raced with negative thoughts.

and since his life is not always about sugarcoating—he thought that probably you just had a miscarriage, got attacked by some curses, or worse, you're dead. his wife, you, were hurt when he was away and not even there to at least protect you.

unbeknownst, to the man, tears were threatening to slip down his six eyes, making his blindfold become wet as it was being absorbed by his tears constantly. satoru could feel that his body was filled with self-loathing, guilt, and regret all over his system.

“satoru.” a voice called him from behind. satoru does not need to turn around to know who it was. it was yaga.

“come to my office.” without waiting for him, yaga already left with satoru trailing behind him. taking off his blindfold, satoru wiped the tears that were about to fall.

when they arrived at yaga’s office, he saw his two students, yuuji and megumi, sitting quietly by the couch. they were both acting quietly odd, like they knew what was going on too.

“where's y/n?” satoru asked.

“do you want to know what happened first?” yaga avoided his question for now. instead, he goes into the other aspect that he's been wondering too. satoru fell quiet, so yaga took it as a yes.

the principal looked at the two students who were already looking at him. sighing deeply, yaga then proceeds to start explaining.

“y/n was found unconscious by these two. it has been over an hour since she's been in that situation judging by the dryness of her blood. right now, we still had no idea about her state since shoko's the one who's been handling the situation. and it's been a while too since we have seen her.”

“and the baby…i'm sorry, gojo. but we have no idea either.” yaga sighed heavily. satoru was all silent, he couldn't bring himself to utter any word. he was too caught up about the situation that he had so many things to say to the point that he couldn't figure out where to start.

“i know it's not my business to interfere but…did something happen that leads to this?” the principal asked the strongest. the next moment was something that everyone expected—they did not receive any response from the man.

suddenly, the door burst open, revealing the tired doctor. her eyes landed on your husband who's still frozen about your condition. on the other hand, satoru was too busy drowning himself with his thoughts to notice shoko in the room.

“itadori, megumi…go back to your dorm for now. it's getting late and i’ll just update you two tomorrow.” shoko scurry the two younger boys and they obliged.

as the door in yaga's office closed, the three grown-ups fell into a silent atmosphere, only the sound of the air ventilation could be heard inside.

“h-how’s y/n and the child?” yaga was the first one to speak among the three. but shoko's attention was drawn to gojo only and gojo was still unable to move.

“her situation was so severe that we needed to put her into a hospital as soon as possible.” shoko said quietly and directed to gojo only. her eyes were trailed to him, and only him. she wants him to taste the bitter medicine of his aftermath and she is going to make sure he's taking it.

call her brutal and cruel, but in your realm of marriage where her role is only being a worried close friend, she would choose you over everything. that's how much she cares for you. shoko could see what kind of person you are, and she believes that you deserve better than what you are right now.

sure, gojo was right when he said that she'd only known you for a short period of time. but that is enough for her to determine that she is going to stick by your side whatever may happen. because she knows how a gojo satoru works, she knows what kind of person he could be.

if gojo can manage to leave shoko out in his life, then he could do it to y/n too.

“she was bleeding too much, i'm afraid it has to do with the child. so if we don't act fast, we might have to choose who to save—are we going to save y/n and lose the baby? are we going to save the baby and lose y/n? or…what if we lose them both—”

*boogsh!*

a sudden explosion was seen. the four walls inside yaga’s office have officially become three when satoru couldn't handle his emotions that he let his cursed energy slip and create a hole into one of yaga’s walls. the impact was so strong that it literally shook the whole jujutsu high.

and surprisingly, none of the three inside the scene was scratched, just emotionally taken aback. the once gojo satoru who couldn't even utter a word earlier, was now looking at shoko with a mixture of menace, trouble, anger, grief, and…extreme sadness.

shoko ties his stare, looking equivalently. “did you hear what i said, gojo? your wife and your baby are currently facing the grim reaper. do you understand that?” she said calmly but there is a hit or hardness into her tone.

“shut up! fucking shut up!” another surge of curse energy flows in different directions, making yaga and shoko feel goosebumps on how strong it is.

“satoru!” yaga yelled in panic.

“where is she? where the fuck is she?! show me where she is!” satoru screamed at the doctor. shoko, whose face is now back to emotionless, decides to subside her annoyance to the man as she knows you are the top priority right now.

“i will let you see her. but once you see her, you have to teleport us into the hospital immediately if you still want to see her open her eyes.” shoko said seriously. thankfully, satoru managed to calm himself alone and just stared at shoko, waiting for her to continue.

“y/n was experiencing placenta abruption. it's a very serious complication in her case because the placenta in the inner wall of her uterus is completely detached. it greatly affects the baby’s supply of oxygen and nutrients and the situation causes her to bleed heavily.”

“i immediately minimize the bleeding but i cannot guarantee the two's safety, especially the baby, since it is not worth the risk to imply cursed energy to an unborn child—” before shoko could even finished explaining, satoru already stormed out of the room and just proceeds to the room where his guts tell you where. he was being followed by shoko who was screaming at him.

opening one of the doors, there he saw you all pale. he could feel your cursed energy barely beating, and that scared the shit out of him because that indicates your weakness.

“o-oh god…” satoru couldn't help but to feel his breathing pattern becoming irregular as a single tear followed by another drop from his gorgeous powerful blue eyes.

this can't be happening. you were just fine a while ago!

“y/n, oh my g-god! my wife…” gojo satoru, known by his title as the strongest sorcerer in his generation, was seen crying over his dying wife and dying unborn child. his tall figure was trembling in tangled emotions that he couldn't even determine the two ends.

“sorry to ruin your moment, but if you want to save your family, it's better for us to keep moving now.” shoko followed the suit, still savage as ever.

gojo does what she said and teleports the three of you into the bestest hospital that he knows. ignoring the toll on his cursed energy as it took more, more than the usual usage, satoru believes that your well-being should be his priority rather than his.

when they arrived, shoko immediately started to bump the people out of the way and started to call for help. “someone! get us to an emergency!” she screamed.

meanwhile, satoru keeps your body close to him. hugging your frame ever so delicately, scared that you might break or disappear.

a man like satoru gojo, whom to some called him a man-god, find himself crying out to every gods and deities out there to help you, to help him get this through. he prays and prays to keep you safe and how he's sorry for all of the things he would do.

for sure, he knew this sudden care for you is not born out of pity or regret, it is a late realization on how much he couldn't bear to see you like this. because deep inside him, satoru couldn't deny the warm feeling of having someone that was waiting for him to come home, provide him service, and even give him a bundle of joy.

the words he swore to himself that he doesn't need a wife to console his woes as he is completely capable of being by himself was getting eaten by his current self. served on a silver platter, satoru didn't mind eating his own words.

a stretcher was bought on sight and shoko instructed him to put your body there and watch the series of doctors rush your body into the emergency room. satoru watches the light above the door where you were in turns red, signaling that it requires immediate medical attention.

placing his traumatized body on one of the cold walls of the hospital, sliding his man shoulders and crumbling himself into small pieces to make himself as small as possible. never he would have thought that the night would end with him continuing to pray for your safety.

satoru didn't realize that he dozed off within the walls of a random corner of a hospital where he brought you in. he only realized his current situation when he could feel someone kicking his lower body constantly.

opening his tired eyes, he saw shoko eyeing him while still continuing to nudge him. “good, you're awake.” she said.

it feels like a surge of energy flows to his body and it immediately makes him rise up faster than he could. that was also when he started to feel all of the aches in his body just from sleeping in that kind of position.

“fuck, my whole body aches.” he mumbles to himself. satoru was about to stretch himself when he saw the time on the wall.

5:05 AM

and then his eyes landed on the door.

there was no red light anymore.

“y/n. shoko, where's y/n?!” anxiousness washed all over his body. he didn't know what to expect on what answers he's about to receive regarding his family condition.

meanwhile, shoko thinks that gojo looked like a lost puppy on how his eyes literally beg for a positive answer. despite his six foot frame, he looks like a poor and desperate child.

“the operation ended an hour ago. y/n was now stable and goy transferred into one of the private rooms. while the baby…” she pauses.

“w-what? what happened to my baby?” shoko almost grimaces the way satoru addresses the unborn child, wondering where the hell did he get the guts to say that.

the doctor was this close to brutally and savagely roast this man until he flew in shame—that’s how mad, angry, and upset shoko from what satoru did to you. but today is not the suitable day for that, she may be cruel but she had limits. so, shoko forcefully swallowed the harsh words and decided to just put it aside.

“the baby was delivered early through cesarean, it's the only way to save y/n and the child. the baby is currently in a neonatal intensive care unit where the bestest doctors monitor the child until it reaches mature development.”

so basically, you give birth to his child. satoru couldn't explain what he's feeling right now. he's happy for the baby, and yet at the same time, he feels really undeserving, but he still wants to be part of the child's life—this is too complicated for him.

and besides, this is not the right time to contemplate. because as a husband and father, he needed to stay with his family to provide them love, support, and to patch that once had been wounded. and he's going to start with…

“can i go and see y/n?” deep inside him, satoru felt ridiculous for asking that question since he is the literal husband! or was he? after everything he had done to her for five years?

shoko then tiredly pointed at the room at the end of the hallway and satoru, with the help of his long legs, never ran faster than his whole life.

gently opening the door in your room, satoru was greeted by your peaceful and sleeping form with all of the tubes connected on the back of your hand. closing the door behind him, satoru finally let go of the tears he's been holding the whole time, ranging from the confrontation with you until to to this situation.

sitting on the chair beside your bed, satoru weeps as he holds your arm. at this moment, the strongest no longer exists, it was just gojo satoru who couldn't stop himself from muttering an apology to his wife that he did so wrong.

they say, you would only realize the importance of something when it's now late. satoru would absolutely agree to that statement and he could even provide proofs and evidence. at first, he's being a total dick and douchebag to his wife who clearly doesn't even do anything wrong to him. then his own wife endured all of his actions for the whole five years and still remained as if their relationship could be only determined on a sheet of paper.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.” satoru may not know what would happen the moment you would open your eyes. would you send him away? or would you let him stay despite all of the pain and trauma he caused you? for now, he can never know.

but one thing he's going to let you know, he's going to change for you and for his baby. he's done doing things for himself, and now, he should focus on you.

and he's going to start with cutting all of his ties to his mistress.

[part 3 will be announced as soon as possible, for those who wanted to be tagged, just say it on the comments — ©luvvixu2024]

taglists: @mistymuii @kalopsia-flaneur @sherryuki-callmeyuki @tttttttf @slyhersophia @rirk-ke @username23345 @lvstru @neteyxms

don't cry . .

sukuna doesn't know what to do.

"what are you doin?" he mumbles to you, watching blobs of tears fall down your cheeks.

"stop," his voice is gentle; his attempts of pushing your tears back into your eyes fail miserably. he resorts to wiping your tears away, but the spilling from your eyes don't stop. after numerous attempts of stopping your tears, he decides it's best to cover your eyes completely with his large hand, hoping to stop the flow.

why does he have to put up with something so weak? someone so vulnerable, unable of keeping their emotions kept. how were you going to survive this world?

he keeps his hand placed on your face holding you tightly against himself, until he no longer feels the hics in your chest nor the sniffling from your nose.

"don't cry."

This. This is what im talking about.

I love angsty fics, I really do.

But not "my dog died" or "I feel insecure" kinda angst. I'm talking about the cheating, the break up, the suffering, the tears, the begging, the pining, the stalking, the obsession UGHHHH, love me a fic where he fucked up and now has to do the most to get her back, it gives me a serotonin boost

Underrated

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。devil, meet angel

— pairing. choso x fem!reader

— synopsis. you were sent to exorcize him. upon meeting him, you can’t bring yourself to go through with it.

— word count. 2.2k

— warnings. angst, self hate, mental health issues, mentions of death, fluff, hurt/comfort, jjk violence, injuries, slight gore, suicidal ideation, choso just being a sweet boy we love him

main masterlist

You didn’t know what to think of him as he sat from afar, playing checkers with himself. It was both confusing and intriguing, and it pulled you closer towards him. Footsteps quiet and calculated.

If you were anything— it was stealthy. You could come and go as if you were never there, undetected like a ghost. Perhaps that’s how you got the nickname.

The Ghost.

His pale skin glowed, the porcelain like surface perfect— no flaws to be seen. The intricate markings among his face, complimenting the dark purple bags under his eyes. In an odd way— he was quite beautiful. Too beautiful to be a curse.

Almost as if he sensed you, his head slowly raised from the board and his eyes locked with yours.

The sudden realization that you had been caught watching— you felt glued to your spot. Staying as incredibly still— hoping you’d blend in with your environment. But at last, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squinted upon your watchful gaze.

You were prepared to exorcize him, energy pulsing beneath your palms— the buzzing sensation itching to release. With calculated steps, you inched closer to the man.

Your first step had his eyes squinting even more, his expression mostly unchanging.

Why was I approaching this curse? I should exorcize it immediately— no questions. You thought.

Keeping your steps even and slow— you had made it closer to him. Standing a good ten feet away. Looking into his eyes, now that you were closer— you were shocked to find such emotion within them.

You weren’t even sure if he knew how expressive his eyes were.

Swallowing nervously all of a sudden, you raised your chin— false confidence.

“You know why I’m here.” You started.

Somewhere in the back of your mind wondered why you were creating small talk with something you were meant to exorcize. Maybe it was simply a way to make exorcising curses more interesting— or perhaps it was the way he didn’t show any signs to fight.

The man looked you up and down, his face stuck on a neutral— almost bored expression. But his eyes, they spoke for him.

“Guess I do.” He responded, his voice low and gravelly.

You felt an awkward tug at your chest— unsure of what more to say. Unsure if you should exorcize him without another word.

“Just like that? Thought you’d at least put up a fight.” You wondered out loud.

Your words had the man tilting his head, the checkers forgotten below him as he stood suddenly. His height making itself know, the distinct difference— that if he were to approach you now— he’d be towering over you.

“Why bother… at last I’ll be with my brothers.” He revealed.

His words were shocking, very human of him. It had your chest aching with hurt. Hurt for him.

“Your… your brothers?” You wondered, already having a suspicion.

The man closed his eyes for a moment before opening them to stare you down. His jaw set, his eyes furious but broken.

“They’re dead, because of your friends.” He spoke carefully.

Your heart throbbed painfully in your chest, the shame filling your body as you began to beat yourself up for something you didn’t do. But you couldn’t help but feel at fault.

The man noticed the twitch in her brow, the way her mouth turned down from his words. Her reaction was intriguing to him— wondering why she was taking so long to end him once and for all.

Loss was something you knew well— an unfortunate feeling that lingered amongst your entire life. It was only natural to feel for others that had to experience it as well. Which was why you found yourself speaking your next words to him.

“I’m sorry.”

The man stared at you in confusion, studying your expression. He was slightly disgusted to find your reaction genuine. But why?

“Wh-what…” He trailed off.

You closed your hands into fists, trying to restrain the energy you had previously built up. Desperate to bury it within you until it deem useful.

“Your brothers. I’m sorry you had to lose them.” You spoke quietly, unsure if you had a place to be sorry for him.

His eyes narrowed at you, his own hands tightening into fists now. But as you gazed upon him, and took in his body language— you still could not find any aggression.

Meanwhile, the man was confused why you— a sorcerer— was sending him your condolences. Was it confusion he felt within him, or was it appreciation?

That would be twisted— apologizing for something your friends were at fault of. He wanted to think, but couldn’t find it in himself to.

He could only nod in thanks, choosing he to stay silent as he got lost in his own thoughts. All surrounding you.

Suddenly, the guilt sensation began to wash over you in such a way you felt physically dirty. Your skin itched— your hands clammy as you kept them squeezed tight. The realization of what you were about to do— to someone who was mourning. Someone who clearly wasn’t exactly a curse. It was only the same reminder you’d get after every mission.

Who was the real monster?

You shivered with the thought that echoed loudly within you, and you held an opened hand to your chest. In hopes your heart would slow.

The man just watched, his eyes drinking in the scene before him. Wondering why you were in such a distraught state all of a sudden. It was the concern that bubbled within him, that had him clenching his jaw.

You turned and began to walk away, not uttering another word as you just needed to escape to hiding.

“Where are you going…” He muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

He knew you did, with how your body tensed and slowed their steps. Luckily, you turned to the side, able to look him in the eye.

“Forget that this ever happened. I never saw you, you never saw me.” You explained, voice shaky.

The man looked at you in confusion, in disbelief that you were sparing him— letting him live another day. That same foreign feeling washes through him, and suddenly his gaze was softening.

“I don’t understand.” He wondered out loud again.

You shook your head, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“You don’t need to.” You said lately, before turning away from him again.

This time you didn’t turn back around, and you kept walking with hurried steps until you found yourself crouched in a dark alley. Allowing the guilt to finally begin to eat away at you.

A part of you enjoyed this hell— a part of you feeling like you deserved such pain.

Meanwhile, Choso was trying to understand your reaction. He was hellbent on figuring out why you left, allowing him to live.

What a strange girl you are. He thought.

The small interaction between you and the man replayed in your mind. Causing you to be more distracted than usual, causing you to doubt your abilities— your purpose as a sorcerer. As of lately, it didn’t feel right. Exorcising curses didn’t feel satisfying.

Your mind wasn’t in the right place, and that’s how you ended up crawling away from the destruction of the battle. Bleeding out as you had let the curse you just exorcised, get the jump on you.

With agonizing pain, you eventually crawled your way far enough from the damage. Letting your form lean back against a brick wall. It was then you could assess yourself.

The open wound on your side was the most painful, the harsh throbbing— the sensation of the blood oozing out. It had you sweating, chest rising and falling quickly in attempts to stay conscious. You could feel the left side of your face start to burn, raising fingers to trace the outline of a cut. Starting from just above your eyebrow, dipping straight through the hairs and stopping just near your eye.

You hissed as your fingers pressed too hard on a tender spot.

Your body felt weak, exhausted as it racked up all the minor cuts and bruises— the weight of your injuries causing your eyes to droop.

This was it? Where was my phone? I should probably call for help. You thought helplessly.

Through all the pain, the questions that flew through your mind— one thought stuck out the most.

Maybe I deserved to die.

It was a sick way to be thinking, knowing how selfish it would be to give up now. People needed saving, they needed your help. But it felt impossible to find strength— any strength to keep your eyes open.

Your hand stayed tightly pressed against the wound on your side, desperate to keep the blood from oozing for however long you could. Your eyes were unfocused and staring at the ground.

There was no worse way to die, than dying alone.

Before you could drown in that thought, footsteps were heard approaching. Immediately you tensed up, glancing up quickly at your attacker.

Your breath got caught in your throat at the sight of… him again.

The same man who had taken up your headspace.

During your shock at seeing him, Choso gave himself a moment to study you. You were obviously hurt and in pain, your body battered to a pulp. He couldn’t understand why he felt so bad for you— someone who almost killed him.

You couldn’t help but stay tense, feeling like a cornered animal— waiting for your predator to attack. But as before, the man made no indication that he was going to hurt you. Instead, he squatted down in front of you— not missing the way you flinched back at his sudden closeness.

“You’re hurt.” He stated, as if it wasn’t obvious.

You couldn’t find it in yourself for a snarky comeback, not when you felt this defeated.

“W-why? What are yo- I—”

“You’re hurt, allow me to help you.” He interrupted your babbling.

Your eyes were painted in confusion, your features twisting into uncertainty. Everything about this didn’t feel right, you should’ve pushed him away and allow yourself to die instead. But you couldn’t control the way your body relaxed, your head bowing in submission.

“My name is Choso. What’s yours?” He asked, his hands ripping a part of your jacket off, creating a long bandage like strand.

You swallowed, taking a deep breath in before responding.

“I-It’s (Y/n).” You rasped out, the taste of iron coating your tongue suddenly.

Choso snuck a quick glance to you at the reveal of your name. (Y/n)… he quickly realized he liked it.

He gently snuck the jacket strand behind the dip of your lower back, tying it tightly around your wound. The sensation had you whining, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you tried to conceal your cries. The pain had washed over your body with such intensity, you felt like you were going to faint.

“Please, keep your eyes open.” He instructed, moving his attention from your side to the cut on your face.

Without realizing it, he was letting his fingers caress around the wound. You gasped at the feeling, the pads of his fingers rough in texture— but he brushed over your skin with such delicacy.

“Why are you helping m-me?” You rasped out, coughing from the tightness of your lungs.

Choso let his eyes drop from your cut to your eyes, gazing into yours with confusion. Mainly because he wasn’t quite sure why he was helping you— he just knew he had to.

“I don’t know.” He answered truthfully.

You furrowed your brows, but couldn’t dwell on his words too long— not when your body seized and twitched for a moment. This particular wave of pain hitting you harder than the rest.

Choso watched you with an intensity in his eyes, and he almost grew distracted by another unfamiliar sensation in his chest. Concern? For this sorcerer?

“I don’t deserve your help… but thank you.” You whispered, body slowly relaxing after the pain subsided for now.

“You spared me. Call this me, returning the favor.” He stated.

Although, he wasn’t sure if that was the main reason why he was saving you.

You attempted to shoot him a weak smile, but when he noticed a drop of blood escaping from the corner of your lips— he couldn’t find it in himself to return the gesture.

“Well… I appreciate it.” You mumbled out.

Choso could sense you losing consciousness, and he knew he had to get you more medical attention. He wasn’t going to let you die here— not today.

As your eyes finally dropped, your body slumping with fatigue— Choso didn’t waste another second. He scooped up your fragile form, carrying you bridal style to find some help.

His steps were quick and rushed, the sight of you laying in his arms causing another sensation to bloom in his chest. You looked so peaceful. So… pretty— like an angel. He found it odd for him to think such things.

All he knew was that the next thought he had, was leaving him the most confused he’d ever been.

He never wanted to let you out of his sight again.

— ending notes. this was in my drafts for awhile, and it’s just something random i wrote. had a dream similar to this 😇☁️ also apologies for any spelling mistakes!

I'm not trying to start a fight, but I'm literally sleepier than you are.

I don't care how sleepy you think you are right now

I'm sleepier

FINALLYYYYY

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 10

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.  

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) The smut has arrived. 

Words: 10.3k

A/N:  Alright y’all. The smut has arrived. Is it any good? Probably fucking not. So I apologize in advance but ya girl tried. Hopefully, as I continue to write intimate scenes for these two idiots, it won’t be such a dumpster fire. That being said, this chapter is a lot more fun, more lighthearted, and (fingers crossed) a good time. Filler chapter part 1 in this series is here and hopefully it’s a good a time as all the rest. And as always: Thank You. For always being so kind and loving my story as much as you do. I hope you all continue to enjoy it 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

p.s. please press play whenever you get to a certain part. You'll know when you get there.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Previous

Warnings: swearing, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids), fingering, virginity taking (?) mentions of past trauma, doc being awkward as hell

You weren’t sure what kind of dream you were having in the beginning. It could’ve been a lovely one. It also could’ve been a terrible one, but that was the beauty of sleep. Sometimes it didn’t have to be accompanied by a dream and just be blissful, peaceful, oblivion. You were willing to bet one of Sanji’s orange tarts that you were sleeping in the last category before a violent jolt shifted you awake.

You thought the Merry was capsizing; a wave had come darting over the side and sent her ass over the stern. Instead, it was Roronoa Zoro who stood at the end of your bed, arms crossed, with a booted foot on the bedframe where said foot had shoved the frame back against the wall. 

“The fuck-”

“Get up.”

“-are you doing in my room?”

Each word was a grumble. You were positive if your eyes could open up, you’d be giving him a glare so potent that it might kill him. Fortunately for Zoro, your eyes were still battling the glaze of sleep. Unfortunately for you, even with your eyes hooded in the shape of a crescent moon, you were painfully aware that he was wearing a beige kimono-style shirt. It was specifically the one you’d mentioned to Nami a few times since leaving the Conomi Islands that was a particular weakness of yours. 

The way the sleeves strained against his biceps - the muscles underneath blatantly on display with his arms crossed. The sinful way the dip of the V-shape exposed your eyes to the tanned chest underneath. A chest you knew very well was as defined as the muscles in his arms. 

“Have you been eavesdropping again?”

It was the only solid reason you could think of for seeing him wear that specific shirt - and ones like it - five times now in the last few days. You didn’t even try to hide your irritation, and Zoro didn’t flinch as it carried over to the noticeable pitch in your tone. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, get up.”

“Of course you don’t,” you mumbled. 

You fell back against the softness of the mattress. A hand scrubbed aggressively over your face in an attempt to try and chase away what fatigue remained. This only resulted in his planted boot giving the frame of your bed another violent shake. 

“Alright, alright! I’m getting up,” you snapped, hurling a pillow in his direction. It wasn’t a shock to watch Zoro easily dodge it. “Has anyone told you how much of a pain in the ass you are?”

“I’ve been told once or twice. Now - up.”

“I am up!”

“You’re still lying there.”

Your hands balled into fists at your sides and it took every ounce of your current self-control not to flail them into the sheets. 

“My god, Zoro, what the hell are you even waking me up for?”

Zoro didn’t bother to remove his boot until he watched your body shift under the sheets. Your arm reluctantly threw back the blankets as you started small shuffles to the edge of the bed grumbling the whole way. It wasn’t until your feet were planted on the wood of your cabin floor that Zoro removed his boot off the bed. 

The cold blank stare he usually wore plastered carefully on his face. A little too careful if anyone cared to ask you. Like he might be enjoying waking you up like a crazy drill sergeant for the Marines. 

As he made his way over to you, he uncrossed his arms and held out his hands for you to take. A pipeline of support that you wanted to smack away because damn him for waking you up when he knew damn well you’d gone to bed late. No matter how childish you wanted to be, however, you couldn’t deny the heat in his eyes made you painfully aware of how close he was. A bed behind you and only a secured upper body wrap holding you together with a pair of shorts were the only things between you. 

You weren’t at a hundred percent yet. The damage Arlong and his men subjected you too was extensive - requiring weeks if not months of upcoming healing. It took you a whole week just to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and not hate what you saw. The rawness of a body now molded and shaped with some scars that would fade over time with some that wouldn’t. 

You weren’t a vain person but…it was a lot. 

There wasn’t any denying the look in Zoro’s eyes but you couldn’t keep your insecurity from flaring to life. It took every fiber of your being not to wrap your middle in a protective hug. Instead, you allowed your hands to slip inside the palm of Zoro’s. He pulled you up quickly, a little too quick, which caused your feet to wobble and your chest to collide with his. 

Your hands landed on his chest to try and steady yourself. Zoro’s own hands fell to your waist to either steady you or -

“You did that on purpose.”

Fuck. Did he always look at you this way? 

In the past few weeks since you’d come back - after the moment inside the tent - an unspoken bond formed between you. It went past sealed limbs and hands that enveloped possessively around flesh. It was an unseen thing that tethered you both to each other. It felt unexplainable the way you knew he was coming before he’d ever entered the room. 

You knew he was behind your door before he’d ever knocked. It was the pause in the shadow under the doorway that gave him away. The sound of a heavy breath shuddering free from a body that was filled with apprehension, which didn’t seem like Zoro at all. 

And while he knew you were his - surely he must know - Zoro entered your space with caution, with timid touches and glances that made sure you knew you held all the control. You, the sun, and him the moon hopelessly moving around your orbit, but somehow, he’d filled every space that used to be empty with nothing but him.

One of them being now. 

In a room full of drying herbs and flowers that cascaded down one side of your room, a few overhead, it should’ve only smelt just like that. The scents of orange blossoms and wisteria mixed with mint. All the smells you’d come to associate with home now mixed with the heady smell of the sea, metals, and the camellia oil Zoro used to sharpen the Wado Ichimonji.

Your space was as much his as it used to be yours.

Zoro didn't answer you or offer up any explanation. His dark eyes only followed your tongue as it wet your bottom lip. His hands gripping your hips a fraction tighter - pulled you in closer. Zoro’s neck craned down to bring his lips closer and you pushed up on your tiptoes - “You and I are training this morning.”

You were going to kill him. 

Your neck was still craned to the side as you scanned his face to see if this was a joke. You waited for a crack in his stern expression to soften with the brightness of his smile. His real one. What you got was that deep gaze that informed you he meant it, and you couldn’t get your eyes to stop blinking back the swear words brewing in your brain. 

“Come again?”

“Training. That’s what we are doing this morning. So, get dressed and meet me on the deck in five.”

To send his message home, Zoro gave your ass a slight smack earning him a squawk of surprise. Your hand absentmindedly rushing up to massage the sting he left just as he released you. If you weren’t shellshocked, you would’ve smacked his arm as he turned and headed for the door. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you chuckled in disbelief. 

“And I can’t believe I’m in love with a woman who screams like a bird.”

“I beg your pardo -“

“Five minutes, Doc. You make me wait more than that and I’ll come back to get you.”

“That sounds less frightening and more exciting than I think you’re going for, Mosshead.”

Zoro stopped, hand on the door before he turned back just enough for you to spot the smirk that was beginning to chase the darkness from his eyes. 

“Five minutes.”

Those were his parting words before he exited your room quietly shutting the door behind him. You stared at where he’d left, your brain trying to make sense of what exactly just took place. One minute, you were blissfully sleeping, and the next you were rubbing out the sting Zoro’s hand left on your ass. Not to mention, you were apparently supposed to train with him in less than five minutes. 

You were going to have to make a quick stop at the kitchen before you met him on deck. 

“No, absolutely not. Go put that back right now.”

You weren’t sure what you would find when you finally made it up on the deck. Sure, you were pre-warned that you were going to be subjected to some form of training. Mentally, you prepared yourself to see the weights Zoro used daily or ropes to launch with your arms in ever-expanding waves with him yelling to send them higher and higher. Your mind created obstacle courses and brutal regimes that were going to leave you begging for a time out; to come back and try another day.

What you didn’t expect to find was Zoro - your Zoro - shamelessly shirtless. 

Gone was his shirt from earlier leaving only the sash that held his sword at his waist, jeans, and his boots. Conveniently, he’d left his bandana wrapped around a bicep that was currently flexed; the hilt of the Wado squeezed tight in his palm as he displayed it at his side.

While you hadn’t been prepared for him to be shirtless, Zoro hadn’t expected you to come out with one of Sanji’s pots.

In your book, that made you even.

You waited until you were only a couple of feet from him before you theatrically lifted it up by the handle and gave it a spin. 

“Put it back,” Zoro demanded.

“Absolutely not,” you replied curtly, allowing yourself to spin the pot inside your palm again. “I think you forget how amazing I am with Lucille.”

“Lucille?”

It was cute watching Zoro’s brow raise in apt horror. His eyes watched as you pretended to get ready to throw the pot like a ball. 

“Yeah - that’s her name. You know, the same way your sword has a name.”

“This sword was given a name by one of the greatest and most influential families to ever exist - alive or dead. You can’t just go around naming your own weapons.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem fair, and saying things like Lucille doesn’t deserve a name will make her cry.”

“Please stop calling the pot Lucille.”

“Oi! Doc! Is that my cooking pot?”

If it had been any other time, any other place, that Sanji interjected himself into, Zoro would’ve looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. Annoyance, a badge of honor he seemed to wear constantly whenever Sanji was present. But, it was your first day of training and here you came, pot in hand, and said cook coming out to reclaim it was the savior Zoro didn’t know he needed.

You could practically see his eyes light up with satisfaction as Sanji stomped his way over to you. 

“She is no longer a cooking pot, Sanji. She is now affectionately known as Lucille.”

Sanji came to a stop beside you. The sleeves of a powder blue dress shirt rolled up his forearms and a fresh cigarette held between his fingers. The other tucked, as per usual, inside the safety of his trousers. He didn’t try to hide the confusion that etched his brows together and, using his free hand, created a line from you to Zoro.

“Oi, Mosshead, you put her up to this?”

With his free hand, Zoro waved off Sanji’s accusation. His hip cocking as he placed the Wado Ichimonji back inside its sheath. Once he knew it was secure, he used it as a perch for his hands. 

You were very aware of the struggle you were having to pay attention to the conversation at hand. It had to do with the pot in your hands that you were no longer fiddling with. Zoro wanted you to put it back, and Sanji was more than happy to remove it from you. That should’ve been your main focus and yet…

Zoro was far more distracting when he wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

Dangerously distracting. You tried to remind yourself you’d seen him shirtless before. Back at Baratie - when none of you were sure he’d make it another night. You’d exposed his chest to the room, stitched his wounds, and cleaned them. 

This was different. 

Back then, Zoro was pale from blood loss. There was no life - no color - to his skin. Not like the way the sun darkened his skin and dusted kisses of freckles over his shoulders. Every cord of muscle in said chest flexed around the diagonal scar that ran from the top of his left peck to the top of his sash. A scar meant to be a lesson now appeared to blend into the skin; a warning to those who sought a challenge. 

A vision of the willpower he possessed to fight even death itself. 

Your gaze was too hungry. You weren’t able to tear your eyes away as he shamelessly flexed the muscles in his forearms that led ever upwards. The way your mouth watered as he turned at his waist, back and forth, to loosen up his back. The movement only put on full display the deep indent that rested between his shoulder blades. 

“Why would I tell her to grab a pot from the kitchen?”

Sanji hadn’t been prepared for his response. He appeared to consider Zoro’s question while he removed his hand from the pocket of his trousers and motioned for you to hand it over. You wish you could say you handed it over with grace, but instead you placed Lucille behind your back.

“Hand it over, Doc.”

“I’m keeping her.”

“It’s my pot,” Sanji reminded you.

“And she deserves better.”

“Excuse me!?”

“Doc, just hand over the damn pot so we can get started.”

No. Nope. You were not pouting. You most definitely weren’t pouting when you glanced at Zoro. You especially weren’t pouting when you gingerly took Lucille from behind your back and placed her handle inside the palm of Sanji’s waiting hand.

“There. Was that so hard?”

“I’ll come back for you,” you whispered to the shiny metal.

Your words only earned you a worried look of concern from Sanji.

“Should I be locking up my pots and pans now? What in the hell is going on?”

Sanji’s question wasn’t directed at you and, if you weren’t still trying to take back the pot from him, you might have been offended. Instead, you allowed the worry Sanji seemed to have for your mental health to fall away while the sound of Zoro’s heavy footsteps making their way across the deck reminded you of the reason you were there. 

“If you’re done messing with the waiter, we have more important things to do.”

You wanted to ask Zoro if he was trying to cause you permanent emotional distress. It had to be the reason he just oh so casually strolled over, still extremely shirtless, very much glistening in the sun with his chest just…out…like that with his wrists resting on the hilt of the Wado. You swore if he so much as tucked a thumb into the sash you were going to combust.

“I can assure you, Mosshead, there is nothing more important to Doc than me.”

“Actually, that would be false,” you cut in around the inhale of breath Zoro was dragging through his teeth. “The most important thing to me is breakfast.”

“I can definitely make a five-star breakfast for one of my favorite girls.“

“We. Are. Training.”

Each syllable knocked against Zoro’s teeth in annoyance. If you didn’t start doing said training soon, you were going to be in the middle of an actual fight. It wouldn’t be the first - or the last - time Sanji and Zoro went at each other with more than just words. 

After the first week of each of them testing the waters of whose presence bothered who the most, they’d ended up coming to blows inside the kitchen. Much to Sanji’s very loud displeasure not only had Zoro’s forehead scuffed Sanji’s recently polished boot, but he’d simultaneously ruined dessert. 

Now Sanji did whatever he could to agitate Zoro, and Zoro did the same. And Sanji’s favorite way to agitate Zoro? Well, that was to irritate him by using you in practically every available reference. 

Because of this, a sharp exhale exited your body as you gently patted a chest you forgot was bare. Very bare. 

Ignore it. Move on. We are moving on…

“Alright. Yes, we are about to train. So, let’s…train away. That way.” 

You directed Zoro to turn around with your hands secured on his shoulders for extra measure. You waited until you were both far enough away from Sanji before you released Zoro, only to find Sanji now seated on a crate. 

Great. Just what you definitely didn’t need - an audience. 

“Alright, Sensei,” you said, voice full of apprehension. “Train away.”

This was punishment. It had to be because you couldn’t imagine any sane human being subjecting themselves to doing this for longer than an hour. First, Zoro made you sprint to the front and back of the Merry ten times. While, at the time, ten felt like such an easy, if not silly, number and you’d mentioned it to him. 

“How am I supposed to work up a sweat going around only ten times? I’m not a baby.”

As it turns out you were, in fact, a baby. 

A giant one by the sounds your lungs audibly made as your legs struggled up a set of stairs. If you’d been smarter and taken the smirk of challenge that rose to his lips as a warning, maybe you would’ve kept your mouth shut. Maybe Zoro would’ve taken pity on you and allowed you a drink of water when you finished, instead of immediately handing you two forearm length pieces of bamboo. 

“What the hell is this?”

Each word squeezed between a ragged breath. You were trying to remain stoic; composed. What you ended up with was your head thrown back, your mouth greedily gulping for air, and eyes shut tight against the sun. 

“Bamboo sticks.”

God, sometimes Zoro was so matter-of-fact you weren’t sure if he was pulling your leg for shits and giggles or if he’d removed his sense of humor. 

“Yes, Mosshead, I see that they are bamboo sticks. No Katana for me?”

“You’re a little clumsy for a Katana -“

“Well, that’s rude,” you mumbled between shifting the weight of one stick in your hand. 

“-you don’t hold your balance well. So, I figured Kenpo sticks might serve you better. To be able to hold any weapon for a long period of time, however, you’re going to have to train the muscles in your arms. Whether it’s holding them or swinging them for extended periods of time. That being said, you’re going to swing each stick five hundred times.”

A whistle from the Northern side of the deck cut across your stunned silence. A reminder that while you’d been struggling to run a few laps, you’d gained an audience. 

“I don’t know Zoro,” started Usopp, “I myself am pretty well-versed in hand-to-hand combat but even that seems…a lot for someone’s first time.” 

Of course, none of you were going to mention that Usopp’s combat consisted of his slingshot or running. You were sure if anyone did, he would’ve chalked it up to being one of the first snipers to ever be able to shoot while running in the East Blue. 

Zoro didn’t appear to be moved by Usopp’s words. His shoulders shrugged them off as he moved closer to you, his hands wrapped around the sticks. It was the fifth time held corrected you in over two minutes since you’d started. Not that you were counting or anything. 

Fuck, your arms were already starting to burn. 

“Pain is weakness leaving the body.”

“If you say, ‘mind over matter,’ next I’m lacing your next dinner with a laxative,” you warned. 

Zoro didn’t appear to be the least bit phased by your most recent threat. His eyes drifted back to watching your form and the way you swung the Kenpo sticks. If you didn’t stop at a full ninety-degree angle, he was going to add on another fifty swings to make up for the ones that weren’t right. 

“Can we please move on to something else before my arms fall off?”

You didn’t care if you sounded desperate. You felt fucking desperate, at this point in your life. You were pretty sure if you kept this up your arms were just going to refuse to work. You needed your arms. They were very vital in being able to be a person. Like eating food, that your stomach loudly reminded you that you needed. 

“It sounds to me like Doc is in need of that breakfast she mentioned earlier,” Sanji called. 

“I could definitely take a second breakfast,” Luffy cut in, his arm raised for added effect. 

“You’ll take seconds of anything,” Nami quipped, earning her a smile from the Straw Hat pirate. 

“And that is why I put a lock on the pantry.”

“There was a lock?”

It was Sanji’s absolute look of horror at Luffy’s confusion that sent you into a giggle fit. One that ended as quickly as it began when Zoro used the covering of the Wado to wack against your thigh. Just like he had that night back at Baratie. 

“What the hell was that for?!”

“You dropped your arms. I’ll add another hundred if you don’t resume your position in the next five seconds.”

You felt your eye twitch - you couldn’t make it stop. You were sure it meant you were either going to have a mental breakdown or worse. Zoro didn’t seem to be worried about either option. His eyes expectantly watched to see what your choice was going to be. 

Suddenly, you were back in your room being woken up by the very same madman in front of you. All you wanted was to sleep in. Maybe add in a little breakfast with the stuffed French toast Sanji had been spoiling you with the last couple of days. 

But no. 

No, you were trapped out on the deck with your crazy demon pirate three-sword-wielding boyfriend. To bring this home, your stomach gave another loud growl and your hands went flailing around in front of you.

“Ugh, Doc. What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m fighting ghosts,” you deadpanned. “What does it look like, Usopp?”

“It looks painful. Are you supposed to be breathing that hard?”

Usopp was right. You were breathing hard. Whether it was from your impromptu tantrum or something else, you weren’t sure. 

“Are you done?”

And then there was Zoro. 

Mr. Composed himself standing there waiting for you to finish. He’d crossed his arms over his chest leaving his perky chest and all his perky muscles on full display. If it wasn’t for your growling stomach it might’ve been enough to distract you. 

A low whistle came from your audience drawing Zoro’s attention away from you. 

“Who knew Zoro was such a masochist?”

“I am not a masochist!” 

“I don’t know, Mosshead. You do seem to be getting off on keeping Doc away from food.”

“I am not.”

“Me doth think the lady protests too much,” Sanji teased, his tongue working around the toothpick he’d placed between his lips. 

“And I think the waiter should get back to the kitchen.”

“Okay, okay!” Nami interjected, jumping off the crate she sat on moments ago. “How about a compromise? Doc gets to eat and as soon as she does, Zoro, you can go back to training her until her arms fall off.”

“I’d like to keep my arms and any other future appendages if that’s alright with everyone,” you added. 

It was a shot in the dark. One you were grateful to Nami for taking. If anyone stood a chance at letting you get even a smidge of breakfast, it was going to be the ship's resident thief and smooth talker extraordinaire. 

But Zoro wasn’t just anyone and he was rarely swayed. Immune to everything on the planet that didn’t come with an alcohol percentage rate. 

And just like that, an idea so ingenuous crept up on you that it almost sent you jumping in place. 

“Or how about this, Zoro,” you began, “the next time we dock, I’ll not only buy you unlimited drinks at the nearest bar. I’ll also buy you a case of whatever you want.”

You tried to keep the hope out of your voice. Unless it tipped Zoro off how truly desperate you were for Sanji to feed you. Who knew what kind of add-ons he would make to an already painfully expensive offer. 

It didn’t take long for you to spot the flare of interest in his eyes. The only tell you needed to know you had him right where you wanted. Your stomach had never been more grateful. 

“Unlimited drinks, two cases of whatever I want, and when you finish with breakfast we pick up where you left off.” 

“Deal.”

It felt like days had passed while you soaked in the heat of the tub. The world has sped by in a rush of sunlight and the salt air of crashing waves to the overwhelming dusk of night. 

You’d stayed so long inside the water your fingers ripened to raisins. Even then, you would’ve continued to stay housed inside the steam and heat until the aches and pains liquified into nothing. 

The training with Zoro had been welcome, but unexpected. It felt good to not be treated like fine china. As if the slightest tap or mention of your wounds that seemed to be taking longer to heal would rip you back open. It was starting to drive you mad. You were close to reminding them that you were…different. 

The question of just what and who you were unanswered. An unmistakable unanswered question with possibly no answers and then, like magic, Zoro showed up in your room demanding for you to train.

Both of you knew it was a compromise. One that didn’t need explanation. Since his vow in the tent, Zoro had made it very clear he meant every word. While he gave you space (sometimes too much of it) he was never far away from you. If you were tending to Nami’s tangerine trees, he was out on the upper deck, body relaxed and stretched like a cat soaking up the sun. The times he was training, he would stop and see where you were. 

No matter where you were on the ship, Zoro was drawn to find you. You weren't exactly sure how it was going to go when the Merry finally docked, but you could only imagine how fun that was going to be. 

Zoro taking the time to train you wasn’t meant for you, not really, anyway. It was a way for him to know, without a doubt, if you were ever separated, you would be safe. 

“I can’t lose you, Doc.”

The baritone of his voice felt heavier in the space between your rooms. You noticed it in the way his hand gripped the hilt of the Wado just a little too tightly. The muscles in his jaw grinding to a halt against his teeth. 

It had been this way since you’d been back on the Merry. The moment in your room a fading memory. You wanted to ask him why he never knocked again - why he never came back inside to finish what Luffy interrupted that day. 

Zoro’s lips claimed yours with the intensity of a fire and had left you to burn at their loss. 

As the days turned to a week and the week began another, the bruises and wounds began to heal. Some of them leave violent reminders of what you’d endured. The sob that had racked through your body like a great wave of grief echoed through you still as you looked at your back in the mirror. Ugly marks you knew would never fully go away; gnarled patches of flesh that told a story you wish you could forget. 

You hated your mind for telling you this was why Zoro never came back. Who would want to touch a broken thing?

“You can never lose me, Zoro.” Your reply was hushed, spoken to the space between your shoes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I almost lost you. Didn’t I?” There it was. The anger. The heat of an old fear that burned its way into something feral. “A few minutes longer,  midwife too short, and you wouldn’t be here and I would know a loss greater than any damn gods could fix.”

The memory of that moment trapped between your bedroom doors played on repeat in your mind as you stepped out of the bath. Your hands quickly grab a towel to wrap around yourself and make sure it was secure. 

You weren’t worried when you stepped out from behind the bathroom door if you would run into anyone. Dinner had long since been served, the late-night conversations all but died, and the quiet lap of water against the Merry was the only sound to greet you. Still, you couldn’t help but look both ways down the hallway before you made your way towards your room. 

You’d just made it to your door, hand on your doorknob, when the sudden cold air of a door - Zoro’s door - whooshing open made your body freeze in place. 

“It took you seventeen minutes longer than usual to get back to your room tonight. What’s going on?”

Never mind the fact that you were standing exposed in just a towel in the middle of the hallway. You could even disregard - maybe - the fact that Zoro was standing in the doorway to his room with his arm against the frame, shirtless (my god did he run out of clean shirts?!) with his usual carefully maintained hair looking like his fingers ran through it more than a few times. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice quipped on the word, “but have you been timing me?”

“Answer the question.”

“You answer my question first! And why are you just standing like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like -,” you waved a hand from his feet to his head for added emphasis, “- that.”

Zoro watched your hand as it flew around like a rather large fly on crack. If you were a gambling person, you might have placed a bet on the fact he found you very amusing right now. More amusing than you would’ve liked. 

“What does that even mean? How do you want me to stand?”

“Not like that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is me standing like this bothering you?”

You could practically feel your eyes narrowed to slits when he leaned deeper against the arm on the doorframe. The action making the muscles in his stomach become more pronounced and his pants sling lower against the deep V of his hips -

“You absolutely did that on purpose,” you seethed. 

You weren’t expecting him to take a step out from the safety of his door frame. That one step was all Zoro needed to completely take up the small space in the hallway leaving you with only two options: move back or stand your ground. Your body was screaming for you to pick the first option, but Naan didn’t raise a coward. So, when Zoro’s arm reached behind you to brace himself on your door, completely closing the space between you, you tried your absolute best to act like you were fine. 

You were very much aware you were only in a towel and Zoro was casually standing there in only a hastily thrown-on pair of pants. His face mere inches away from yours. You wouldn’t be surprised if he caught the sound of your heart thundering wildly in your chest or heard the very prominent, Fuck, that was bouncing through your head in time with your nerves. 

The desire Zoro stirred in you, that you’d buried down the last few weeks, came roaring back to the surface with a vengeance. You - he - was playing with fire and with every inch his body took into your space, you weren’t sure you’d have the strength to not plead for him to stay. Every second his body drew closer to yours, every cell in yours came to life with a need so violent it almost buckled you at the knees.

“You’re cute when you blush.” The whispered words hovered between you. His chest now pressed against the hand that clutched at the towel while he opened the door behind you. “Get inside.”

You couldn’t make your body move. You wanted to stay there enveloped in the heat of his body for just a few seconds more. The rising smirk in the corner of his mouth informing you that Zoro was very aware of this. 

“I’m not blushing.”

“Sure, you always walk around with a pink tint to your cheeks, Snowdrop,” he hummed. “Now get in.”

The use of your new pet name was what sent you walking back inside your room. It was different than when he called you by your nickname. His tone unbothered, as if he could be talking to anyone. It wasn’t as intimate as when he spoke your real name. The way his voice deepened and rolled your name off his tongue like it was his greatest sin. 

No. Snowdrop was soft. Innocent. Private. Just for him. 

You expected him to tell you good night before he shut the door. It was the nightly routine you’d come to expect. Zoro waiting in the purgatory between both of your rooms. Always present, but never crossing. You held your breath, waiting to hear the richness of his voice cascade down your spine as intimately as if he’d touched you. You watched him while you took a few more steps inside the safety of your room; eyes never wavering off him as your fist curled against the fabric of your towel. 

It wasn’t until he’d stepped inside, the door firmly closing behind him, that you realized this time was different. The only thing that helped quiet your racing heart was the uncertainty that laced itself into the crease of his brow. His eyes roaming over your towel-clothed figure as if he just realized it was all you wore. 

You wanted to go back to earlier this morning when you considered maiming him with a pillow. When Zoro was in the middle of being his usual strong silent type self who was ordering you around. You preferred it over a room that suddenly felt too small and unspoken words that left so much longing to hammer against your chest. 

Zoro ran a hand through his hair, somehow making it messier than it was a second ago, before tucking his hands into the safety of his pockets. Any other time it would’ve been innocent. At the weight of his fists, however, the stretch band at the waist gave way dipping lower to show the beginning peak of moss-green hair. 

Your body seemed to forget how to swallow. The action caused you to cough around a ball of spit that got caught in your throat. 

“Where do you keep the Alderberry?”

How could he ask questions right now? How could Zoro be so composed? You felt like you were three seconds away from combusting. 

“Why?”

The sound of his bare feet taking a cautious step forward sent your pulse spiking against your neck. Gods, please, don’t let him notice. 

But he was Roronoa Zoro. The Demon Pirate Hunter and soon to be the Greatest Swordsman who ever lived. Of course, he noticed. 

“I know Nami usually helps you put it on at night. You were in the bath so long she went to sleep.”

Damn. Just how long had you been hiding in the bath? 

Nami usually did help you every night. Her hands were the only ones you trusted to rub in the Alderberry ointment on the places you couldn’t reach. Your back being the biggest target area. There was a comfort in knowing only one person aboard the ship took inventory of every wound currently healing on your body. The way Nami teased how Zoro was probably seething in a jealous fit across the way knowing she was seeing more of you than he did. 

It was easy to take her playfulness and meet it with a dismissive one. Easy to pretend around the comfort of being in her presence that deep down you believe the opposite. 

And now here Zoro stood encapsulated in the darkness of your room. The only light came from the window of moonlight that cascaded like a kaleidoscope across his face and shoulders. All his usual carefully crafted composure, the ‘I don’t give a fuck,’ bravado that rolled off him in waves was stripped away. 

Here inside your room, Roronoa Zoro wasn’t the three-sword fighting style demon who terrified dozens of pirates. 

In your room, he was just a boy who looked at you like you’d hung the stars. 

“Oh,” you huffed out in a shaky breath, “Yeah, uhm, it’s over there on the middle shelf to the left.”

Zoro didn’t wait to see where you pointed. His feet padded over to one of the many shelves that lined the small room his eyes scooping out the shelf until they spotted a small circular tin. You’d painted a cluster of tiny Alderberries on the lid, and just that small detail alone sent a ghost of a smile to arch the corner of Zoro’s lips. 

“You know, you’re the only doctor I know who categorizes all of their medicine with pictures instead of labels.”

His voice barely registered as he spoke. The richness of his voice only seemed to grow deeper, gruffer, when he talked in hushed tones. You hated how your body reacted to the intimacy of the sound. Your eyes helplessly watched as he moved towards you, his fingertips slowly moving the cylinder of ointment between them. 

“I prefer my drawings to ugly labels.”

“But what if someone comes in and grabs the wrong one?”

“Well, I guess they better learn how to ask first before taking anything,” you chided. 

You tried your best to sound like Naan. The way she would scold you for trying to sneak sweets before dinner. It appeared that your attempt at sounding like an ornery old woman only succeeded in making him smile so big his teeth showed. Immediately, Zoro ducked his chin down towards his chest to try and hide it. 

It took every ounce of strength you had not to reach out to grab ahold of his chin and force him to give it back. 

“Alright, Snowdrop. Turn around for me.”

At the mention of showing him your back, your body went rigid. You hoped he didn’t notice, but it was Zoro. Of course, he noticed. 

And of course, he took it the wrong way. 

“I’m sorry. I know it’s probably easier having Nami -“

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly cut in. 

You tried to wave away his apologetic words. He had nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t his fault you ended up with wounds like this, and it wasn’t his job to heal you. It just came down to the fear of rejection, the looks of pity or disgust, that kept you hostage inside your own head. 

With a shaky breath, you steeled yourself, turning to expose your back to him. Well, as exposed as it could be with the towel covering up past your shoulders. You waited in the heavy silence of the room with apprehension threatening to eat you alive as your eyes roamed the room. You examined every shelf, every strand of hanging flowers as if it was the first time you’d ever seen its contents. 

It felt like you were waiting forever for him to do something, anything, that you felt your nerves begin to buckle. At any minute, you would turn around and tell him nevermind. It was a kind gesture but maybe this was a mistake. You were in the middle of formulating a good enough excuse to give him when the warm pad of his palm on your shoulder sent you jumping out of your skin.

A chuckle rolled from deep in his chest, and you wanted to turn around and punch him. 

“You did that on purpose.”

“I seem to be doing a lot of things on purpose today.”

“If the shoe fits,” you grumbled.

You were prepared this time when his fingers touched down on your skin. Every nerve helplessly followed the path they took as they brushed the drying strands of wet hair out of the way. The calloused pads of his fingertips dipped underneath the fabric of the towel and gave it a small tug. 

“Relax.” 

Fuck. 

He breathed the word against your ear and you couldn’t keep the soft gasp from escaping from between your lips. You prayed the moonlight from your window didn’t show him the goosebumps that one word had elicited across your skin. Your body was a traitor who answered the roaming pads of his hands with a heat that pooled low in the pit of your stomach. 

There was no denying your pulse was thundering beneath your skin, and you wondered if Zoro could see it. If the tips of his fingers felt it as they mapped down from your throat and moved to push the towel low, and lower until he had the cloth down to the middle of your back. His index and middle fingers ran down the length of your spine and your body involuntarily shuddered against him. 

No longer did you care about ointments or salves. You wanted - needed - him to touch you. If Zoro needed to hear you plead and beg, if it was enough for him to release the growing pressure that was building between your legs, you would gladly do it. 

It wasn’t until you heard the sharp whistle of air sliding between his teeth that you remembered what it was he was looking at. You tried to draw the towel back up, to turn back around to face him, but Zoro’s strong hand on your shoulders kept you rooted in place. 

“What are you doing?”

“You don’t have to do this. I appreciate it, but I know it can be a lot - “

“- Doc.” 

“I can go a night without the ointment. Really, Zoro, it's fine.”

“Will you shut up for one second and just talk to me?”

If he could see your face right now he would know you were more than a little confused on how to go about answering that question. 

“Ugh, how am I supposed to simultaneously talk and shut up at the same time?”

He let out a sigh and you felt his forehead drop between your shoulder blades. 

“Poor choice of words,” he groaned.

“I would have to agree.”

“Doc -“

“Zoro?”

Yes, you knew you were being a pain in the ass but, to be incredibly fair, so was he. At the feeling of his teeth nipping at the skin of your back, you tried to swing an elbow back and was rewarded with him simply holding you in place. 

“Be good.”

“Says the one that just bit me.”

Another sigh and his forehead found a home between your shoulders. As if you were the only pain in the ass in this relationship. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

No. 

How could you? It felt like too much and yet, not enough all at once. You didn’t want to tell him that the minute you’d heard him suck in a breath, no doubt from looking at your exposed back, it felt like all your worst fears were real. Zoro finally took one look at some of the damage - damage that replayed throughout your body - and thought the same thing as you. 

You were ruined.

You knew you were still healing. Wounds like these…they took time. No ointment, herb, treatment, or the magic that was scattered across the whole wide ocean would fix you up in a matter of days. So, why did you feel so ugly? So undeserving? 

How did you tell anyone that, when you looked in the mirror, you no longer saw yourself but the monster Arlong created. 

“I know it’s a lot to…look at. I appreciate you wanting to do this for me, Zoro, but I understand if it’s too much. If it’s too ugly.”

You anticipated the feeling of his body removing itself from yours. You counted the seconds and prepared your heart to be ready for the rejection you already thought was coming. It was too much to ask, to look at someone so damaged, and love them like they were whole. 

His answer came with the press of his lips against the hollow of your throat. A sound between a moan and gasp left you. Your mind trying to make sense of the sensation as he gently left another a few inches lower. 

You both stood trapped and unmoving in place. Your back facing him with his mouth hovering over your skin. His breath ghosted over your skin causing you to shiver against his chest. A hand held on to your waist, while the other held you at your shoulder. His thumb worked its way between the towel and your skin, slowly getting you to release the tight hold you kept on the fabric. 

The hushed sound of your name - reverent and full of sin - brushed against your ear. You tried to fight off a shiver but felt your body shake in his hands. The anticipation brought to life an all too familiar ache for his touch. You’d become accustomed to that specific need since the moment you’d met. 

To be coveted the way he coveted his swords; an extension of who he was. 

You didn’t fight him as his fingers gently worked the towel back down. You didn’t try and hide again as his fingers caressed down the exposed skin and stopped at the median of your back. Zoro’s fingers delicately worked over the indents of healing flesh; traced over jagged lines of cuts that zigzag up and at odd angles. He touched them like he was committing each slight against your flesh to memory. 

“Doc,” his lips pressed against your throat. “You’re perfect.”

You bit down on your lip to contain a sob. Your chest heaved as his fingers found their way up to the place you hated the most. Where Arlong branded you and, where later, he’d branded you again with fire and metal. 

“What’s this?”

You didn’t have to see him to know Zoro’s brow had creased together in curiosity. If he’d seen it before the molten poker that’d been placed across your skin, he’d know what the tattoo originally was. 

“It was a brand from Arlong to show ownership - that I was part of the crew. I belonged to him.” Zoro’s hand grew still as you spoke. The hand on your hip gripping you so tight you were sure there would be bruises. “That’s what it was until they…they took something metal - a poker or something - to my back.”

A few moments passed before you felt his thumb gently move over the healing skin. You followed the path they took, inching upwards, closer and closer to what was there now. 

“This looks like…”

Zoro didn’t finish his sentence. His words edged with a softness until they faded between you. The realization of what it was now stilled his thumb from tracing over it again. 

“Like a snowdrop,” you finished for him. “It is. After - after everything, Nojiko came by the hut. She told me she fixed Nami’s tattoo and offered to fix mine. I didn’t know what else to pick so…”

His thumb traced the outline of the flower across your skin. A shiver rippled through you but it wasn’t from the cold. Your room suddenly felt too quiet and it left you feeling exposed. Surely, Zoro knew the only reason why you picked it. A good memory to try and wash out all the bad. 

The silence was becoming unbearable. You didn’t know what to say next to fix it, but you had to say - do - something or else you would go mad. 

“Zoro -“

All words, all thought, ceased the minute the hand that had gripped your hip pushed you back against him. Gone were the small inches of distance Zoro created at your back.  The desire that had been building, that you tried to ignore, flared to life between you. 

A hunger like you never experienced before washed over your skin. It only grew more ravenous as Zoro gave one final, violent tug on the towel, ripping it free from your hands and tossed it to the floor. It left you open, exposed, to the room. 

To him.

He didn’t give you time to try and recover any modesty. 

Zoro’s hand that was at your waist snaked up to wrap an arm around your middle keeping you pinned against him. The other that had traced the outline of your snowdrop tattoo drifted up to grab a hold of your chin. Gently, he used it to crane your neck to the side leading your mouth to his. 

Zoro’s lips brushed against yours tentatively, with caution, as if he applied too much pressure you might run. It only earned him a needy breath that dipped in your chest. The motion causes the fingertips of the hand at your waist to skim the soft skin. 

It was such a light touch - innocent - except it wasn’t. 

A moan rushed past your lips, and all that careful restraint Zoro prided himself for evaporated along with his control.

The gentle fingers that cupped your chin now pressed firmly against your throat, craning your head back to rest against his shoulder. The angle allowed him to place a bruising kiss on your lips. His tongue broke the soft seal your lips created between you to stroke across yours; coaxing you to deepen the kiss and devour you from the mouth down. 

One minute the hand at your throat was there, commanding, keeping you where he wanted and the next it glided down your chest. The pads of his fingers skimmed over a breast, teasing your nipple before he trapped it between his thumb and index finger. You pressed yourself back against him, your body grinding, straining, for any sort of friction to relieve the growing ache he made between your legs. 

Gods, you could barely think past the wanton sob that crawled its way up your throat. The sound hummed against your shared kiss in a plea against Zoro’s mouth. He answered with a growl that seared his ownership across your skin. 

Your senses were flooded with him. His touch was electric and overwhelming and you found yourself clutching onto him like a woman drowning. You laced your fingers in his hair to try and anchor yourself, but when a digit of his own slid between your folds your knees buckled. 

Zoro held you firmly to him. Easily holding up your weight as the pad of his finger rubbed a lazy slow circle over your clit. A moan tore your lips apart as you rocked against him. You barely registered the soft nip of his teeth on your shoulder when that finger, slick with your arousal, pushed itself inside you.

Another throaty moan filled your room. The sound echoed relentlessly off the walls with each thrust of his wrist. You scrambled to find an anchor - to find something to keep you present. But the desire that crushed you, made you open your legs wider for him, to fuck you deeper, spread you wider, refused to be held down. Your nails dig into his forearm in a weak attempt to keep yourself grounded. 

You never felt so wanton before - so ravenous. Your hips beginning to move on their own. Hungrily meeting each thrust of his fingers with a rock of your hips pushing the digit deeper inside you. 

“My good girl,” Zoro purred against your ear. “You can take another finger for me, can’t you?”

You weren’t sure if you could trust your voice. Your tongue wetting your lips as you gave him a nod. Zoro didn’t wait for you to do anything else. On the next thrust, you felt a sear of pain, just enough to rend a gasp from your throat that transformed into a moan. 

You felt so full. So incredibly full as his fingers moved against your walls, pushing deeper, curling, and reaching until they found something that turned your next moan into a stuttering breath. Zoro felt it too. The way your walls tightened around him. The muscles in your legs struggled to keep from buckling. His thumb moved circles around your clit and you tried to be quiet. Truly, you did. 

But the pressure was building. The heat low in your belly expanding - threatening to explode. 

“Zoro,” you panted out his name. 

A plea. Praise. Worship. All or none of it you weren’t sure. But he answered his name with his teeth claiming the skin of your shoulder and biting down just enough that the pain blended in with the pleasure. 

“Come for me,” he demanded. Your name left his mouth like a man in rapture. “Be my good girl and come for me.”

With another flick of his thumb - a stroke of his fingers - you felt that molten heat that’d been growing between your legs erupt. An explosion of white behind your eyes as you bucked back against him. His arm held you steady until your orgasm began to subside. 

Slowly, Zoro removed his fingers from between your thighs - fingers and hand slick. With his arm still securely wrapped around your waist, he moved you towards the bed. When your knees touched down on the mattress, you turned to look up at him. Your hands went grabbing at the hem of his jeans. 

“We don’t have to -“ he started.

The hand not coated in your arousal grabbed at your wrist to stop you. You kept your eyes on him as your fingers undid a button and moved on to the zipper. 

“Please.” Your voice was raw. Overused. But you would use it to beg him if it got you what you wanted. “I need to feel you inside me, Zoro. I -“

Zoro didn’t give you a chance to finish. His answer came in the form of a growl. His hands pushed you down onto the mattress as he finished removing himself of his jeans. He braced one knee on the frame of the bed. A hand beside your head as he moved himself between your legs. 

His hand hooked itself beneath your knee and brought your thigh to rest against his hip. You could feel the weight of his cock - warm and heavy - on your stomach. The apprehension of the unknown - would it hurt? - weighed heavy in your thoughts for a moment. A searing kiss from Zoro quickly tore it away as he easily moved further up the bed. Your thigh still held tightly to his hip. 

Zoro reached down between the length of your bodies, his hand grabbing his cock to align with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your orgasm, and teasing your swollen clit. A moan tore your lips and, at this moment, Zoro pushed inside you. 

The sear of pain was immediate as your cunt stretched to accommodate him. Zoro was thick - so impossibly thick. With each thrust, the feeling of fullness grew. His hips worked slowly - in and out - coating his length, inch by aching inch with your arousal. 

“You okay?”

You hadn’t realized you’d screwed your eyes shut tight until he’d spoken. When you opened them it took you a second to tell he’d stopped. His body suspended above you, eyes searching your face, waiting for you to tell him what to do. 

Your head was already shaking before you found your voice. A soft, “yes,” fills the intimate space between you. You reached up to place your hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing over his lips as he’d done with your tattoo, before saying it again. 

“Don’t stop.”

You pulled him down into a kiss as he pulled out just enough to slide back in. Another moan vibrated across your lips, but neither of you pulled away. With one final thrust, you felt him bottom out inside you. It was Zoro this time who broke his lips away from yours. A guttural moan, half-desperate, collapsed from his chest. 

And then he was a man undone. His hips recklessly fucking into you. His fingers in your hair. His lips pressed half-breathed kisses along your jaw. Slowly, with each thrust of his hips, the pain ebbed away and all that was left was the fullness. His cock stroking your walls and fingers bruising your thighs as he found a relentless rhythm. 

Soon, the earlier pressure you’d felt began to build again. Zoro’s own breathing growing ragged as he fucked up into you. With each stroke of his cock, the pressure built and built until you forgot how to breathe. Your walls clenching tight around him. 

Zoro’s hand reached up, lashing out violently, to grab the headboard. You heard the faint sound of wood splinting but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Your muscles were shaking, tightening, and with the next stroke that sent your body scooting up the bed, you came undone beneath him. Zoro spilling inside you as your cunt squeezed around him.His own breathing hoarse, jagged, and fingers tightening with a bruising force into your hip. 

Zoro collapsed on top of you and you were reminded of how heavy he was. Like an avalanche crumbled around you in the form of a moss-haired oaf. 

So much for the afterglow. 

“Zoro,” you wheezed, your hand tapping his shoulder frantically. “Zoro, you - you gotta move. You're heavy.”

You were aware he was still sheathed inside you - that he didn’t seem to be moving any time soon. A grumble came at your neck tickling the skin. It earned him another smack to his shoulder as you rasped, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop talking into my neck.”

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“It tickles.”

Silence followed your admission. You weren’t sure what kind of…etiquette came after…being intimate. Were you supposed to rub his back? Pat it? No, that felt too much like telling someone, ‘Good game’. What you settled on felt worse. You drummed your fingers on his shoulder.

“Doc.”

“Yeah?”

“Relax.”

Your fingers stilled at his words. You didn’t know where else to look except up. The ceiling wasn’t really brimming with things to help keep you occupied either, which is how you ended up humming a tune. You were midway through the chorus when a gust of hot air hit your neck. 

Zoro grumbled as he moved his arms beside you, slowly lifting himself up until he was hovering over you. Gods, you didn’t know what came over you, but you couldn’t stop the sheepish smile from curling your lips as your finger waved a, “Hello,” at him.

Zoro shook his head, maybe to hide the smile you won at your antics, but also because you were being, well, you. He unsheathed himself from between your legs (was it supposed to immediately ache like this?) and settled down beside you. 

Lifting up his arm, Zoro waited for you to scoot closer before settling it across your shoulders, pulling you in close to his chest. You wanted to inform him that he was a very firm pillow. You wanted to say a lot of things. A part of you not knowing if it was anxiety that was making you overthink or -

There was no mistaking the heavy sigh that came a few seconds later. With your chin planted on his chest, you glanced up and noticed that Zoro’s eyes were closed, or they were, that is until they opened. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

You turned to face his stomach, your cheek resting on an incredibly perky chest and tried to pretend your teeth weren’t worrying away at your lip. 

“Doc -“

“Okay, fine,” you huffed, rising up on your elbow. “I was just wondering: can we have sex? Again?”

The high sound of his laugh, rich and innocent and joyful bounced around the room. You wished you could bottle this moment forever and live inside it. 

“When?”

“Now would be nice. Unless, you know, you’re too tired.” 

You tried to appear innocent as you looked up at him. By the way, his eyes narrowed in on your face, you probably looked anything but innocent. 

“Oh, I’ll be just fine. It’s you I’ll be worried about.”

“And why is that?”

“We have training bright and early in the morning.”

“Absolutely no- !”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before Zoro rolled you over. His hips settled between your thighs, and with one swift thrust had your argument dying with a moan from your lips. 

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

Tag list:

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@shiiiii-okayyyy

This thread still lives in my head rent free…I need to see this too 💀

That roach Naoya is getting the most diabolical Ifrit Jambe like that mf will be GONE😭

GONEEEE LMFAOO

Enclosed To You | Regulus Black

Synopsis: To cope with your lonely marriage to Regulus, you begin to pen letters to him without the intention of ever sending them. As you both grow closer, you decide to continue the hobby until the very end.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Notes: I got this idea just as I was about to fall asleep. This fic switches perspectives a bit, so I hope I blended it seamlessly.

Regulus Black prided himself in his innate ability to read through fake pleasantries, steel gaze rippling through any fool willing to throw in their chance at trying to deceive the young heir. 

With the sudden void torn into his life at his brother’s department from the family, Regulus found his heart crystallizing to preserve what little warmth he had left of his childhood. Gone were the sunny days spent in ignorance bliss, now marred by the ricochet of his brother’s insatiable foolhardy nature. 

Make perfect marks. The Noble House of Black will not be tainted by academic shortcomings 

Bring pride to your house and win the Quidditch Cup, but be vigilant on the field. There is no use for a cripple as the Black Lord—no, the House of Black will never face such ignominy. 

Never forget, there is no pity given for incompetence. Do well to remember the proper etiquette.

Condemn those who have turned against what we stand for—who have turned against our family. 

Do not bring up that vile brat’s name. 

Do better. 

We did not raise you to be so fallible. 

Toujours pur, Regulus. Do not forget yourself. 

Do not fail us, do not desecrate everything we have worked for. 

Be the perfect heir. 

His mother’s words were imprinted into his head, carving themselves into every fiber of his being until not even a modicum of imperfection was plausible.

He would become the perfect heir. 

He would ignore the burning ache in his chest that pried into his soul. He would squash the buds of hope that planted themselves into his head. He would sharpen his mind and hone his stone mask. He would dance with whoever his parents wanted, and he would pretend to care for what the other heirs had to say. 

He would be what his parents expected him to be. 

He would forget his dreams of being like his big brother. He would forget the needless longing for freedom. 

Which is why he allowed his mother to do as she pleased – even now, as she finalized the contracts of his marriage arrangement. 

It was a particularly bright day, the singing of birds drifted through the air and danced into the somber parlor. Regulus was intent on scanning through the paper in front of him as to avoid looking into his father’s expectant eyes, lips drawn together to hide his vexation. 

You were a familiar face, and Regulus vaguely recalls you as a classmate of his, a quiet and diligent student. He hadn’t even known you came from a prominent family, and he was surprised that his parents would agree to the pairing as it was apparent that your family was neutral and not dark-aligned. 

He almost allowed himself to frown; you looked unshaken by the arrangement. 

Yet, he was barely able to contain himself from walking out. He was far from thrilled.

He would fulfill his duties, no more and no less. 

He was not going to paint an illusion of love, and he hoped you would not be foolish enough to believe him desiring to provide as much.

With that resolve in mind, Regulus draws the quill into his hand and signs the contract. 

The months flush by in periods of chill and gloom, sunshine becoming a rarity as Voldemort continued to infiltrate and pollute sectors of Magical Britain with his influence. Despite how stressful his studies were, Regulus carved time to research the growing support behind Voldemort and the benefits to joining the movement. 

Regulus does not even wait until after graduation to be marked. It took a little nudge from his father to come to the decision, but Regulus has hope that perhaps Voldemort would be able to preserve the sanctity of blood purity and the immemorial wizarding traditions. 

You vehemently disapprove of his decision, but Regulus pays little mind to your opinion on the matter. He would ensure your safety, and keep you away from Voldemort if that was what you wished for, but he would not turn away from his desires because of your opinion. 

Inklings of hope for a warm relationship recede and wither by the sixth month of marriage. Regulus allows you freedom to wander about, granting you access to endless rows of grimoires, bottomless springs of galleons, tireless shipments of luxuries, and anything an aristocratic pureblood could dream of. 

He gives you everything you want, but one. His heart is hidden in the unrelenting walls he’s constructed, dangling in the darkness as you bat around futilely in search. 

It was only a few months after you and Regulus had graduated, and the marginal distance between you and the boy had hardly changed despite the fact that you were both living together now. Regulus threw himself into servitude under Voldemort, and he often was missing from the chilly manor. 

You find hobbies to distract yourself from the suffocating loneliness and dejection that trail you like a shadow. Deciding to pick up a childhood activity of yours, you begin to vent all your suppressed emotions onto paper.

Regulus is faintly aware of your newfound interest in journaling. He catches you more than a handful of times with your head buried in a worn journal, quill flying furiously across the pages as you furrow your brows in deep concentration. 

The heir is not sure when he started observing you so closely, but he is pleased by what he discerns. He admires your independence and proclivity for research, surprised by your ability to disappear for hours in a sea of books. 

Regulus begins to consider his options after realizing you wouldn’t try and force him to play the role of a doting husband. It would be counterproductive to continue putting a wedge between the both of you, and he wonders if a friendship is possible. 

He decides to spark up small conversations during your meals together to ease the tension.

At first, the chats are formulaic and polite, confusing you greatly as you observe the rigidness in the boy's frame. You weren’t sure what he was seeking to gain from your conversations since he seemed so stiff from just interacting with you. 

“Regulus, was there something you wanted from me?” You don’t lift your gaze from your plate as you bite the bullet, curiosity getting the better of you. 

The boy across from you tilts his head imperceptibly, “Not particularly.” 

Regulus had never asked anything of you before, and you had assumed that he simply felt uncomfortable with directly requesting you for something. As you peer up at his confused face, you are left breathless as his expression reflects his youth, mouth tugged in a boyish frown. 

You find yourself sitting up straighter, “Oh. Well, I’ve enjoyed our conversations thus far, so I just wanted to repay you.” Regulus’ eyes light up in realization at your remark, and you see him slowly consider his next words. 

“No worries. I figured that it would be beneficial to grow accustomed to each other despite how unconventional our situation may be.” His diplomatic words are paired with a small nod, and you find yourself leaning forward in interest. 

At the beginning of your marriage, you were deeply troubled by Regulus’ indifference towards pursuing a romantic connection, but as time passed, you grew to understand the situation. The marriage was solely for political reasons, and you could hardly complain since Regulus always treated you with respect and dignity. Secretly, you still held onto hope that he would warm up to you, but you knew how deeply affected he was by the disgracing of his brother. 

Nodding in agreement, you feel a small smile grace your face, “How unexpected. I’m in agreement.” 

From that moment onward, Regulus put forth an effort to get to know you, no longer barred by classes or personal reservations. The sudden feeling of companionship that warmed your body seemed to inspire energy into the dim manor, every room permeated with a newfound vitality. 

Your practice of writing down your thoughts in your journal soon shifted along with this change. The leather book in your hand quaked faintly as you finished up the last lines of your words. Craning back to reread the page, you almost want to vanish it as doubt takes root in your stomach. 

You had decided that you wanted to pen a small letter to Regulus, in part to express gratitude for his initiative, and also to perhaps become closer to him. As your eyes trail through the last line, you groan inaudibly as you feel your resolve crumble. 

Your ‘From, Y/N’ seemed to taunt you and you quickly shut the journal, deciding against sharing the letter with its intended. 

As the days waned by and summer dawned on Britain in rustles of wind and splinters of heat, you feel your friendship with Regulus slowly blooming like the azaleas in your garden. 

The day brought mercy on the world as capacious clouds masked the heat of the sun, generously casting verandas of shadows around your manor. Regulus had been faring decently among Voldemort’s forces as he fed you tidbits of his progress, telling you that he was perhaps even considered as a potential member of the man’s inner circle. 

You were heavily conflicted about Regulus‘ predicament, but you knew that there was nothing you could do to dissuade his goals. Regulus was mindful of your caution around the topic of Voldemort in general, and was careful to not let conversation stray too far into the topic of his duty. 

Instead of constantly recounting his varying missions and commands, Regulus often spoke to you about your future goals and plans together, and reminisced of your times at Hogwarts. 

“I was never invited to join it. I’m quite disappointed, it seemed like an interesting opportunity.” You reflect, keeping your steady pace as you stroll alongside Regulus. Since the day brought reprieve against the sun, you both decided to spend it outside in your gardens, admiring the hard work of your house elves. 

Regulus chuckles quietly, hands clasped behind his back as he kept his gaze downcast on his shoes, “Trust me, you were not missing out on much. The Slug Club was mainly just a gathering for people to peacock around.” 

Grinning widely, you avert your gaze to look over the treeline surrounding the perimeter of your grounds, “I see, and did you happen to flounce around and gloat as well?” 

Regulus playfully shoots you a narrowed look, “I have no need to debase myself in such a manner. Now, Lucius on the other hand…” 

Your laughter echoes around the garden, and you feel the stubborn glimmer of hope in your chest amplify. 

You find yourself sitting in your study hours later, left alone in your thoughts as Regulus sweeps off after being summoned unexpectedly. Eyeing the item in front of you, you sigh and give in. 

Summoning your quill and a pot of ink, you flip your journal to the next clean page, only briefly glancing at your abandoned letter to Regulus. Steadying your hand over the page, you begin to write. 

Regulus, 

Today we took a walk around the garden, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life. I’m glad that you didn’t immediately reprimand me for my undignified actions, and I’m pleased that our chats are a regular thing nowadays. 

The flowers bloomed splendidly this season and I’m wondering if I should perhaps draw up some plans to remodel the abandoned wing of the manor. It gets boring when you are not around, and I swear I’ve already read everything in the library. 

Narcissa has been owling me more often as of late, and we are both surprisingly content with our arrangements. 

You’re currently off to meet your lord right now, but I hope you will return before nightfall. 

Gratefully, 

Y/N

Your third letter submission in your journal comes only a matter of days later. Regulus was slowly becoming more engrossed in his responsibilities, having officially been granted a spot in Voldemort’s inner circle. Luckily, he still found ways to make time with you and your friendship was growing stronger with every passing day. 

Regulus, 

Today you took me to the opera. I was quite surprised since I had only ever told Narcissa that I hoped to go again one day. I’m glad that the outing went well, even if you were bored half to death midway through (yes, I could tell). 

You’ve been gone for a few hours now, but I still feel the rush of our trip even as I write this. It seems that you will be busier in the following days, but I’m happy that you are working towards accomplishing your objectives. I can only hope that you are not tasked with something too daunting, though I have no doubt that you would manage to overcome it in the end. 

I haven’t told you the good news yet, but I received an owl yesterday from Gringotts that notified me that our request for the joint vault has been granted. 

Mother keeps pestering me to get a check up from our family’s personal healer, but I don’t understand the rush. She gets fussy every year about our family check ups, and father is positively worn out by it. 

Autumn is approaching, so cheers to many more seasons of friendship! 

Your friend, 

Y/N 

It was to be expected, but you couldn’t help but worry. Regulus was alight with joy as he strided across the parlor room, a glass of firewhiskey cradled to his chest. You were sitting on the velvet chaise lounge, mouth perking up at the boy’s gleeful expression. 

“So you accepted?” 

Regulus spins on his heel and moves to sit across from you on the complementary lounge, setting down his glass on the table between you both. 

“Of course. Kreacher will be delighted.” Regulus’ words are thick from the alcohol and he grins at your silent congratulatory expression. 

You were proud of Regulus’ strides in the group, happy that others could recognize his talents and cleverness. However, you couldn’t suppress the worry that bubbled over in your mind. The closer Regulus got to Voldemort, the more danger he was in. 

It was a narrow path he was venturing down, and you hoped that it wouldn’t push him out of your reach. 

You didn’t want to spoil the mood and bring up that concern amongst other things, so you decided to write out your thoughts in your journal once Regulus retired for the evening. 

Regulus, 

I am overjoyed by your happiness and accomplishments. Though, I still can’t help but worry, and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop worrying. But, I trust in your judgment and I know you would never throw yourself into the path of an oncoming blade. 

It is good to see your mind off of things that bring you so much sorrow. I know you didn’t notice, but I saw you burning letters from your mother a few dawns ago. I hope everything will be rectified on that front. 

I saw my family’s healer earlier today while you were called away. I understand why my mother was so paranoid with our health, but I will stop from spilling such concerns onto paper in hopes that it goes away. I will have to be put on a strict potions regime inconclusively, but I feel stronger than ever. 

I know you will be busy in the coming days, and I will pray for your safety from here. 

Sincerely, 

Y/N

Regulus is disoriented by the onslaught of emotions coursing through his body. At first, he attributed it to the joy of being initiated into his Lord’s inner circle, but he found that the feeling persisted even after then. 

He didn’t want to acknowledge them, but he knew where they stemmed from. 

You were much more of a force than he accounted for during the beginning of your marriage, and admittedly, he was too guarded to even consider befriending you until many moons circled by. 

He couldn’t pinpoint when his feelings morphed from platonic concern to more, but he allowed himself to bask in the feeling. Since he now had a firm standing in the death eater circle, he could protect you better, and so perhaps allowing himself to indulge in his romantic urges would be plausible. 

He knew you had concerns about his job, but he would never compromise your trust and wants by forcing you to follow his path. As he laid in bed, recalling your quiet chat in the parlor, he couldn’t tell if it was the thought of you or the firewhiskey that was causing his face to burn so fiercely. 

He found that he didn't mind all too much about which it may be.

The next few days were hectic for the both of you, and you barely managed to find time to eat together at least once a day.

It seemed so sudden. The shift in your relationship went unspoken, but exchanged glances and hidden smiles became the norm between you both. 

The tension of your blossoming feelings weighs heavy whenever you both lock eyes, the feeling of wires of electricity buzzing between your veins. 

The bud of hope that sprouted in your chest all those months ago bloomed on a particularly windy night after Regulus finished up some paperwork. You found yourself wandering into his study with a small smile and a glass of water. 

The boy shoots his head up to gaze at your approaching figure, eyes lighting up at your arrival. 

“Finished for the night?” Your words are light and cheerful and you have to ignore the twitch of your fingers as you take in Regulus’ disheveled appearance. A large part of you wanted to reach over and smooth out his curls, but you resisted and opted to pass over the glass to the tired boy. 

Regulus nods and twirls the glass appreciatively on his desk, “Fortunately, I am all caught up.” 

You hum and lean against the desk, turning your back to him as you scanned your eyes over all the decoration and furniture you’ve already imprinted into your memory. The warm pool stirring in your stomach consumed your thoughts, and all the worries of the world seemed to melt away. 

“Knut for your thoughts?” 

Peering over your shoulder, you smile teasingly at Regulus as he leans back in his chair. His gaze seemed to penetrate right through you, eyes dark from fatigue and an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“It’s going to take a lot more than a knut.” Your playful words have him chuckling and shaking his head. 

You watch curiously as he pushes back his chair and rises from his seat, slowly rounding around his desk to stand in front of you. He quirks an eyebrow as you feel your face heating up at the close proximity, instinctively leaning back to peer into his eyes. 

“Oh? How much will it take then?” He breathes out. 

“Think you can afford it?” 

Your heart stutters as Regulus leans in towards you, “You’ll find that I have quite a bit to spare.” 

“I’m not swayed by money alone.” You retort quietly, desperately stopping your eyes from darting to his lips. 

“I have much more to offer than just money.” Regulus steps closer and places a hand on the desk, partially caging you in between him and the wooden piece of furniture. 

Tilting your head, you let your gaze drop down his face, “And here I thought you were a man of few words.” 

Regulus leans in closer and drops his other hand to your waist, eyes finding yours in search of something. He seems to be satisfied by what he sees and brings his face impossibly closer, pausing to silently ask for permission. 

When you don’t move away, he shifts to hold your waist tightly, “You’re right, I’m much more of a man of action.” 

Your brain short circuits as Regulus’ lips crash into yours, conveying the pent up emotions that he’s been keeping locked away. You move your hand to grip his neck, pulling him to your body as his hand begins to draw circles on your side. 

The world seemed to fade away as you spent the rest of the night in each other’s embrace, only breaking apart to share giddy laughter and loving smiles. 

Regulus, 

I suppose it has been a long time coming. I’ve never felt this way before, and frankly, it’s frightening. I think I understand what Narcissa means now when she says being around Lucius is like being enveloped in warmth, like stability and unrivaled fulfillment. 

It’s hard to put into words how much everything has changed overnight. I’m excited to see what our journey ahead will look like, and I’m already missing having you by my side. 

You’re not here today, and it’s given me some time to reflect. 

Just as you will do anything to ensure our happiness and safety, I will do the same. It is frightening and I know you will hardly understand when the time comes, but I have confidence that everything will be okay in the grand scheme of things. 

Love, 

Y/N 

A few days of bliss seem to drift by in honey-laced seconds, happiness and love drenching the manor’s atmosphere. You and Regulus were attached to the hip for many of those days, basking in each other’s arms and affection before you would both be separated by your tasks. 

Regulus was in fact a man of action, often choosing to linger around you as you paced around the manor in an effort to redecorate. Words did not need to be spoken, and you figured it was fitting in that way. 

You both never had to verbalize your feelings and intent to get the other to know. From the very beginning of your relationship to present time, it was always both of your individual actions that shone through. 

Unfortunately, Regulus had to attend to his duties soon after. With much hesitancy and lingering embraces, your husband left with Kreacher by his side. You were left to continue with your plans, and you hoped that Mother Magic would be merciful to you both. 

When Regulus returned in a storm of fury with an inconsolable, injured Kreacher by his side, you knew that something dire had occurred during his meeting with Voldemort. Your heart seemed to dunk into freezing water as Regulus shook in anger, barely containing himself as he told you what had happened. 

You knew that Regulus would move the entire world and beyond for those he loved, and Kreacher was no exception to your husband. Hearing about Voldemort’s deception and indifference to the elf’s life had you hardly surprised, but equally incensed. 

The day was marred by silent disbelief and anger, Regulus’ hurt at the betrayal palpable in the air even as dusk fell upon the manor in a sheet of grey. 

You supported Regulus as much as you could in the following days as he came to terms with the events. You also nursed Kreacher back to health as Regulus began to hatch his plans, stubbornly refusing to tell you more about what occurred, insisting that it was too dangerous for you to know. 

As soon as Kreacher was back on his feet again, Regulus asked for his help with his plans, leaving you to wander about. Deciding that lazing around was pointless, you decided to occupy yourself with your own plans as your husband locked himself away. 

It was currently nearing midnight, but unlike the previous week where you and Regulus would retire and go to sleep in each other’s arms, you were both awake on opposite ends of the manor. Realizing that Regulus was still closed off in his study, if the sliver of yellow light steadily peeking from under the door were to give any indication, you decide to sit and write another letter. 

Summoning a loose piece of parchment, you hastily race to write down your thoughts. 

Folding up the finished letter, you traverse back to your shared bedroom and carefully place it down on your pillow. 

Standing back to observe the paper, you hesitate to back away. A heavy stone seemed to weigh down your chest as you realize you need to draft up another letter, one that has you nearly hissing in displeasure. 

Making your way to your study, you fish out your journal from your desk and tentatively sit down. The quill in your hand seems to hang over the page for hours before the fog clears from your mind, and you’re able to formulate a satisfactory letter. As you sign your name, you let out a shaky exhale before summoning one of your house elves. 

“Bon, give this to Regulus if I don’t return by tomorrow evening.” 

The house elf carefully reaches for your journal, eyeing you with a knowing frown. Tucking the journal against his chest, the elf peers up at you with sad eyes, “Bon will do as you say.” 

Taking one last look at your bedroom and at your house elf, you make your way out of the manor, wand and cloak in hand. 

In the whistling of the wind, echoed by the rustling of tree leaves, you noiselessly apparate away without turning back. The moon gleams down on the darkened manor, and the stars seem to fade away from the inky sky. 

It takes Regulus five days after Kreacher’s near death experience to hatch a plan. His heart hangs heavy in his chest as doubt drills through his body like a fervent cramp. The door to his study cracks open with a noise of protest, and Regulus steps out for the first time in days. 

The house is quiet, the dim light serenely pouring through the windows indicating that it was near dawn. 

He needed to make a choice, one that he couldn’t go back on. 

But as he wanders through the desolate hallway, a muffled pop stops him in his tracks. 

“Bon? Where is Y/N?” 

The elf gazes at the boy with shiny eyes and wordlessly extends a journal, one that he recognizes to be yours, out to him. Before Regulus can question the small creature, Bon pops away just as quickly as he came. 

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Regulus continues on his journey to your bedroom, intent on holding you in his arms to distract himself from the world. 

Regulus is hit with confusion when he sees your bed empty, sheets pulled neatly to emphasize its vacancy. Before Regulus can spin on his heel to track you down, his eyes are drawn to a piece of paper carefully folded on your pillow. 

The contents of the note has him shakily sitting down on the bed, hands hurrying to open your journal. 

Regulus, 

I didn’t realize how bad it was. The healers are saying there might be a chance, but if you’re reading this, I’m afraid it was futile. As my previous letters indicate, the blood curse didn’t present itself until recently, but it’s been degrading my soul quite rapidly for a long time. I know this isn’t the explanation you want–the explanation you deserve–but I know very little about it myself. 

I won’t lie to you. I’m scared. 

I hope you never have to read this. I hope I made my way back home, cured, and ready to assist you with your plans for Voldemort. 

But in case that doesn’t come to be, I want to make sure I leave something behind for you. 

Even now, I’m unsure how to write out my feelings, but I need you to know that there was nothing you could have done to stop this. I made this decision because I didn’t want you to worry or suffer. It was selfish to hide the truth, but I would do it again if I had to. 

But Reggie–Thank you for everything. Being with you was everything I hoped for it to be, and I’m so grateful that it was you I fell in love with. I know it wasn’t easy for either of us at the start, but you never made me feel inept or undeserving. Loving you has been the greatest privilege of my life, and I hope we can reunite one day. 

Do not worry about me, I will be by the seaside somewhere. I've always wanted to see the ocean with you, it just seems like I'll be the first to get there.

Let’s meet again one day, my man of action. 

Endlessly Yours, 

Y/N 

Regulus runs his thumb across the journal page one last time, eyes flickering across the swirl of words in front of him. 

Looking up from your journal, he wipes away a stray tear as he turns his gaze upward. The crashing of frenzied waves had mist swiping across his figure every so often, but he could hardly focus on the droplets clinging to his face. Rigidly standing by the cliffside, he hardened his resolve.

He would dance amongst the waves with you soon, death eater duty be damned. 

With a content stretch of his lips, Regulus enters the dark cave. 

He knows he will not breathe to see another moon, but he’s never felt so unbound. 

He was free. Free at last to walk away from his responsibilities and burdens. 

So he walks. 

masterlist

you're a life saver for these! they're all so pretty and there are so many. could i ask for some mossy green, dark orange, burgundy (fall colors) simple dividers? like the heart ones you make and stuff! thank you in advance!!

ah hi, thank you!! You are too kind. And sure - I can do that! here’s some of my faves, in different fall colors 💖

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

Fr

Rereading tfg, I realized that everyone says Eve is just like Emily, yet it is actually Emily who looks like Eve as she was older than her. I know that for the Hawthornes she looks like Emily because they knew her first, but idk I found this funny.

Crimson.

- Coriolanus Snow x gn!reader

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There is nothing left in this world for you but him.

author's note: Is this anything? I hope so :'> Had to get this out of my system and I'm actually quite happy with it

warnings: angst!, this fic contains dark themes, dubcon elements, mentions of blood and murder, a gunshot wound, hanging, lots of crying and mental illness, vague mentions of sex but nothing explicit

word count: 1'876

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There's blood on your hands. Your fingers stained from all the times you've traced the scars on his back. It sticks to you, warm and wet, refusing to let itself be washed off. 

Every time he kisses you, he pulls you into him with his hand on the back of your head. You fear for your life; you're afraid he'll consume you whole in his fervor. He never stopped starving, not really.

Not since you found yourself on the forest ground, drenched clothes weighing you down, and hands covered in mud. Your eyes red and wide open in pure dread. You sobbed then, begged, and pleaded with him, your voice raw and guttural.

Like a scared animal, crying out for help as it lay in the predator's jaw. Your chest heaved and wheezed, the cold air continuing to suck the life out of you. Your legs ached from carrying you as far as they could, running for your life. It was all for nothing. Hot tears descended the gentle curve of your cheeks, leaving behind glistening streaks of despair.

His hand was wrapped around your ankle in a painful grasp. You tried to push him away, continuing to sob and shout incoherently, fearing for your life. His eyes held pure, animalistic rage and desperation, their blue even icier than usual. 

He pulled you closer to him, dragging you across the ground. His own hot and heavy tears fell down onto your chest, mingling with the rain that had already soaked your shirt. You watched his mouth move, shouting something at you, the vein in his forehead threatening to pop. You were dazed, a distinct ringing in your ears from when he had fired his gun at you.

As it slowly subsided, the familiar sound of rain splattering onto leaves and dirt was the first to return to you. 

Then came his voice. It was the voice of a terrified man. The voice of a man who had fallen down a spiral of paranoia and lies and had dragged you down along with him. 

"Please." He seethed. "Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone." Sobs wracked his body as he spoke.

Lies.

He pressed his forehead to your thigh then, right next to where his bullet had grazed it. The fabric of your pants was stained a crimson red, despite the rather small wound.

It was the reason you stumbled and fell. It was the reason you were writhing on the floor in pain and shock as he caught up to you. His figure loomed over you, regarding his prey as it tried to scramble away. He fell to his knees then, dropping the gun he had tried to kill you and Lucy Gray with. The same gun he had killed the other two with. The same gun that marked the point of no return for Coriolanus Snow. Realization flashed in his eyes as he watched you sob and whimper his name.

He lifted his head to look back up at you, his eyes filled with sorrow and self-pity.

He reached out to touch your face, but you shoved his arm back at him. An unreadable expression crossed his features as he stared at you, tears continuing to trail down his cheeks.

He quickly and effortlessly shifted to place his thighs on either side of your hips, struggling to grab a hold of your arms as you fought back but ultimately managing to hold those down as well. You groaned as he put his full weight on you, extinguishing any remaining flames of hope to escape. 

"Listen to me. Please."

"Please don't kill me." You threw your head to the side, forced to rest it on the forest ground as his weight pushed down on you. "Just let me go. I'll disappear." You gasped. Desperate to survive.

"I'm not letting you go." He yelled, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "You're not fucking leaving me." 

It sent a shiver down your spine. Only now was it truly dawning on you why he had aimed for your thigh, not your head. 

"What do you want from me?" You scream, finally meeting his glare. "What do you fucking want? Huh?" This was insane. He has completely lost it. First, he chased you through the woods, screaming about how he was going to kill you, and now he was straddling your hips. Why you? What did you do to deserve this? 

You stood too close to the fire. You should've tried harder to stop him. You should've recognized his descent into madness. 

You're sure the only things fueling you at that point were sheer panic and the human drive to survive. You'd been caught in his grasp for way too long already, your mind growing fuzzier and more incoherent with every lie he told you. By the time you realized, he had you wrapped around his finger already. He made sure your name would never be able to be mentioned without his in the same breath. 

Lucy Gray had warned you, but you were weaker than her. She had seen the way he looked at you, and she knew from the very beginning that it was no look of admiration or love.

"Come with me." She had said, "Run away with me."

Bless her. She really did try to save you from his wrath.

In Coriolanus' mind, you were completely his. He owned your soul, heart, and body in every way possible. He may call it love, but that's merely because that's the closest he'll ever come to feeling it.

The way he shouted yours and Lucy's names after realizing that she had vanished will haunt you for as long as you're alive. Hearing his heavy footfalls closing in on you, your stomach twisting and turning as he fired countless bullets blindly into the sky. He screamed and growled, accusing both of you of trying to kill him. He had turned into an animal in front of your very eyes.

You were the only one to witness it, though. The thought of Lucy Gray being too far away to hear this insanity is the only thing that brought you peace. You tried to run, but he had a gun, and you didn't. At least one of you got away.

"Run, Lucy Gray, get out of here. Don't worry about me."

"Don't die on me now, okay? I'll see you again. One day."

"One day." You promised her.

Coriolanus gently traced your jaw with his knuckles before cupping the side of your face in his hand. You watched raindrops drip down the bridge of his nose.

"I want you to come with me. You and I were always meant to be the victors here, you know that." He gazed at you with such fervor, firmly convinced of his distorted perspective. To him, it was all a game. A game he was determined to win, regardless of what it took.

"We'll rise up together. We'll land on top."

Hiding somewhere in between those words was a man afraid to lose everything and everyone he ever thought he loved. A man terrified of being alone, knowing full well that he doomed himself to this fate with his own actions.

You felt the rush of adrenaline from the chase slowly seep out of your skin and disappear into the dirt beneath you. Exhaustion took its place, like a thick fog engulfing your mind and body. You couldn't fight back anymore, even if you tried.

"Come with me." He whispered; it sounded like a plea, but you knew that your only other option was a hole adorning your forehead.

You closed your eyes, every last muscle in your body relaxing and giving in to surrender. It was all for nothing, but at least his eyes are prettier than anything else you've ever seen. When they're not filled with murderous intention. 

This was it.

It was all for nothing as he pressed his warm lips to your trembling ones. It was all for nothing as you felt yourself melting in his grasp, giving into the heat radiating off his body. 

He let go of your arms to snake his own around your waist, holding you closer to his chest. His kisses grew hungrier then, knowing he had won.

You lost. You lost when he pulled you into his lap, cradling your exhausted body in his arms. His tongue was warm and inviting, gently pressing against your own. His smell and taste were so intoxicating that they made your mind go blank, and you finally let yourself get lost in him. After so many years of denying yourself any kind of affection or desire.

It was all for her. 

She deserved to be free. Your world crumbled when Sejanus cried out for his Ma like a lost child, left to dangle from the hanging tree like the others. Maybe you died along with him; a part of you certainly did.

You wished, more than anything, that this kiss would've happened under different circumstances. You hoped, somewhere in an alternate universe, that no blood had to be shed and you'd still find yourself kissing Coriolanus Snow. 

He felt so good pressed against you. There was nothing else but him left for you—not in this world. There is nowhere else to go but where he goes. There is nothing left to you but his devotion and desire. Nothing but his name left on the tip of your tongue. You wished you could've stopped him from spiraling and given the both of you a chance to genuinely love each other. Maybe at some point, it would've still been possible.

Now, your only place is by his side. 

Caged between his arms as he fills you completely, over and over again. His marks litter your skin, hot and glistening with sweat. Deep welts left behind by his teeth and bruises adorning your throat and collarbones You've lost count of how many times you've come undone for him this night alone, how many times you called out his name so fervently that it robbed you of your voice.

He caresses your arm with the very same hands he has killed countless friends and innocent people with. He kisses you with the same mouth that threatened to murder you in cold blood not so long ago.

He is a monster in every sense of the word. Yet, you kiss him back and tell him you love him as he falls asleep next to you. His arms wrapped around your body, refusing to let go, even in his sleep. If he could, he'd fuse your bodies together, you're sure. 

There's blood on your hands. It's been there since the day you uttered the words 'in sickness and in health' and it will follow you to your grave.

Maybe one day you'll find yourself chained to this very bed. Maybe then he'll finally be satisfied. The thing that will truly satiate him will be his complete and utter control over you. It'll be his power to reduce you to nothing but something that belongs to him and only him. 

There's blood on your hands and lips, and, to your horror, it feels good.

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11.12.2023

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So true 😭

I HAVE TO SPEAK MY TRUTH AND ITS OKAY IF YOU DISAGREE BUT…

why are the hawthorne brothers so cringy sometimes. LIKE THIS FANDOM LETS THEM GET AWAY WITH TOOO MANY THINGS AND IM SICK OF IT. its always “a hawthorne must be brave” “a hawthorne is never a child” “a hawthorne does this” “a hawthorne does that” LIKE I DONT GIVE A FUCK???

I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE THAT JAMESON AND GRAYSON (not xander and nash they’re already pretty humble) GET HUMBLED TO THEIR CORE, IN SUCH A HORRIFIC AND GODAWFUL WAY THAT THEY HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO BE A LITTLE BIT NORMAL. THEY ARE ACTING LIKE THEY ARENT NORMAL MEMBERS OF THIS SOCIETY LIKE BRUH NOBODY KNEW WHO U WERE BEFORE AVERY CAME IDGAF IF UR RICH 💀💀 AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THEIR MENTAL GRANDFATHER, LIKE IM NOT SURPRISED UR CONSTANTLY TRYING TO ONE UP YOURSELF WHEN THIS DECAYING CLUMP OF ASHES WONT LET YOU BE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING. TOBIAS IS ACC A SOCIAL EXPERIMENT BRUH LIKE THEY SHOULD HAVE TESTED HIS BRAIN IN LABS BC SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT. AND IDK WHY NASH IS SO UNDER APPRECIATED BC HE IS THE ONLY ONE IN THAT FAMILY WHO DIDNT LISTEN TO TOBIAS (no shade to xander jameson and grayson i still love them, and also they were a lot younger than nash which is why they relied on their grandfather more) WHICH IS WHY HES THE BEST 😜

anyways I still love all the hawthorne brothers even if they can be super cringy and I’m still a grayson stan even if some of the things that come out of his mouth just makes you think” who raised him” 🫶💗

Hiii now i have a request for coryo but im not sure of your comfortable writing it, so basically reader has period pains and coryo just kinda helps her, gives her chocolate, messages her back and stomach etc.. just like pure fluff. But again if you’re not comfortable with it it’s totally fine! Thank you <3

𓆙 and then she made my lips turn - CORIOLANUS SNOW x f! reader (kinda short)

summary and tw: coriolanus has the task of taking care of you when you are on your period. tw: period pains if you do not want to read about it! thank u lovely for the req :)!!, divider credits : @cafekitsune 𓆙

- You HATED your period, and you made sure to let anyone who came in 5 feet within your personal space to know it too. Someone who came in that space regularly was Coryo- not that you were really happy when he'd give you a shit eating grin that let you knew he thought the horrible experience you went through was funny.

- But of course, he didn't really mean it. Except his laughs were getting a little too realistic? You laid on your bed, hot pocket over stomach and placing your cold hands on your face to try to help you feel slightly better. You heard the door creak, and looked up to see a familiar white-blonde coming in. "Need help?" He teased, his hands in his pockets fidgeting though. One thing you learned about Coriolanus is that he loves to do things perfectly. If he doesn't get it done the right way, the guilt will eat at him for a long time.

- He'd immediately go up to your bed, sitting at the edge to not disturb your illusion of peace. "So.." Your words trailed off, not really sure what to exactly say. "What do you need, want, you know I'm here to do whatever you-" He spoke too fast, rambling at the thought of making you feel better.

- You shushed him, groaning when you had to sit up and placed a hand over his. You didn't want him to work himself out, but that isn't to say you couldn't refuse his efforts. After all, someone needs to pay the chocolate suppliers of Panem. "Stop worrying so much!" He visibly relaxed, his features softening now. "But I do want some chocolate, uh strawberries maybe?"

- His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Since when did you even like strawberries?" "Since now!" You huffed, going back to lay down. Sitting was starting to strain your back, that bit Snow noticed. "Okay, I'm gonna go?" He looked at you with nervous eyes, like he was scared you were going to break if he left for one second. "Go, I'll be fine." You nodded towards the door. "Fine, but when I come back, uh, massages!" He pointed a finger at you as though you couldn't refuse, not that you wanted too.

- When Coryo came back, first thing you did was to not give him a hug - contrary to popular views. Your hands immediately rummaged through the bag - surprised at the amount of snacks Coryo got you. "I only asked for strawberries and chocolate..?"

- "My girl deserves the best." He smiled, the corners of his lips turning up at your expression. You had to sit up for the second time to smother that man's face with kisses. His arms wrapped around you, bringing your head to rest against his neck. His very good smelling neck, you wondered what his hair routine was to.

- "No escaping from massages." His voice became serious now, he put his hands on your shoulders. "You don't have to tell me twice." You murmured, flopping back on the bed.

- His hands ran over your back, fingers pushing and pulling at your skin. You voiced your remarks very loudly if he didn't do something you liked. He would just reply with a "It's good for you!" or a cackle. Who knew Coriolanus Snow was capable of a cackle? No one at the academy probably thought he was capable of an emotion other then "charming."

- He suddenly moved to the front of the bed, hands clasped around your face before he pressed his lips against yours. "I think this way you'll feel better."

This. This is amazing.

Save Me (Part two) Young! Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Description: Coriolanus and Reader finally admit their feelings. But at what cost?

Ps I also wrote this half asleep again so it’s not perfect like at all.

Coriolanus Snow kept his distance from yourself for the next few weeks. He didn't want to make them uncomfortable after spilling everything to you, but he couldn't deny the feeling in his heart. He wanted to spend more time with you. He couldn't explain what was happening to him, what this feeling in his heart was, and it was frustrating for him. So he kept his distance from you, hoping that perhaps, they would say something or come to him.

You had always been the perfect kid in your parents' eyes. You never gave them a reason to be upset and in turn, they wanted the best for her. That's why when they saw you couldn't find a suitor for yourself they stepped in and started arranging marriages like the good Capitol citizens they were. You felt so tired - all she wanted was a way out of her parents' clutches. But for now, you had to sit back and watch the suitors come into their home and beg for your hand in marriage.

You had to watch from the corner of the room as potential suitors came one by one to meet with her and her parents. You hated every bit of it. It was as if she had no choice. It didn't feel like people were asking for your hand because they wanted you, it felt like they wished to be tied to a family that was seen as prestigious. For weeks, this went on, each time leaving yourself feeling numb and dead. You wanted to run away, to tell her parents no but didn't know how.

Coriolanus was all you thought about. The past weeks had felt like forever. There wasn't a single day that you didn't think of Coriolanus, wondering what he did and where he could be. You felt like there was a small chance he liked you back, although you weren’t too sure. You had to be careful though since your mother and father often asked what you were thinking about. At first, the answer would be about nothing, but it quickly became, 'Coriolanus Snow'.

At first, you couldn't believe you were thinking a lot about Coriolanus Snow. He was never someone you had thought about, let alone be fascinated with. But you found herself always thinking of how you wanted to speak with him again. To tell him how she felt about him. You had never felt this way before and wasn't sure what it meant. But one thing was for sure -you wanted to see Coriolanus Snow again.

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As you stood outside Coriolanus' door. You were feeling so awkward right now and a small part of you was regretting ever coming here. But you couldn't turn back now. You knocked on the door and waited for any response. Your heart was racing right now, you could feel your heart pounding in your ears. You didn't know what to do, what to say. Only a blank canvas was painted on your mind.

As you knocked on the door, the sound of footsteps were getting closer as Coriolanus opened the door. He looked at you and his face was blank for a moment. He hadn't expected to see yourself here, but then again, it would have been worse had you sent him a letter. Coriolanus stepped aside and opened the door fully. "Come in." He said. When you stepped into his apartment, closing the door behind you inhaled a deep breath as Coriolanus stepped back to observe you.

Coriolanus looked at you, seeing that you were nervous now. But how could you not be? You had just came unannounced to his apartment, something out of your own volition. "It's alright." He said calmly. "Is... there something you need?" He asked, noticing that you probably had a reason for coming here.

You paused for a moment unable to form any words. You sighed before admitting to him the cause of this late night interaction.

“My parents Coryo, they want me to have an arranged marriage assuming I’m not capable to find my respective suitor. They’re interviewing many suitors as we speak at home…I just couldn’t do it, I couldn’t stay in that house any longer”. You told him.

Coriolanus stared at your face, letting his face go blank as soon as you admitted those words. Did he heard right? "An arranged marriage?" He asked softly. Something in him felt... strange at the mention of you having an arranged marriage. He wasn't sure what it was. Did he feel jealous? "Who are they making you marry?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

“I don’t know”. You shamelessly admit.

Coriolanus wanted to curse and shout when he heard your words. You couldn't have an arranged marriage. You were too smart and beautiful to be tied to some suitor just so your family could gain a good reputation. It felt wrong and cruel. Was your father just using you as a bargaining chip? Did he not care for your as a child, but rather see you as a way to gain power? Coriolanus felt a pang of shame as he thought about it. "Do you want to stay with me?" He asked.

“Are you sure?” You said with uncertainty.

Coriolanus looked at you, seeing now how worried you were. You were always a confident person, always knew what to do, always calm. But now you looked broken, tired and scared. He had no idea that you even could look that way. "Of course. You can stay as long as you want." Coriolanus said, his voice almost sounding soft.

Coriolanus watched as you stepped in and shut the door behind. Now, they were alone in this quiet apartment. It was just the two of them. Coriolanus couldn't help but feel a bit weird. You had never been to his apartment before and now... he felt a bit strange now that you’re in his home. He didn't knew what to say, how to act. All he could do was to look at you, who was now sitting on a chair, arms wrapped around your body.

Coriolanus went and grabbed a blanket, covering your cold body as they sat in the living room. The silence felt heavy and he wasn't sure what to say. Suddenly, they turned their head and their gaze met. Your eyes were soft, your face looked drained and dead tired. Coriolanus didn't spoke, he just looked at you. What was he supposed to say? They were alone, the silence was eating him alive as he felt his heart pounding. For a moment, Coriolanus felt like he could kiss you.

Coriolanus Snow looked at you, their gazes meeting yet again. He wanted to tell them how he felt since the day he met you. He wanted to hold you so close that all fear and anxiety would dissappear.

“Is this real?” Coriolanus questioned. Your eyes widen at his question, immediately understanding his question. Yes, yes it felt very much real to you but you didn’t know how to tell him. How to tell Coriolanus how much you liked, no, loved him.

"Please, assure me that what I'm feeling is real. The mere thought of not being by your side torments me. Knowing about your arranged marriage, I can't bear the uncertainty. I'm ready to risk it all for the chance to be with you," Coriolanus pleaded, holding your hand gently against his chest.

"Coryo, I... I'm at a loss for words," you stammered, unable to express your emotions. Sensing his disappointment, Coriolanus released your hand and took a step back. Panicking at the possibility of him misunderstanding, you seized his hand and pulled him close, silencing his doubts with a passionate kiss.

Little did they realize that fate had already woven the threads of their tragic tale, and every stolen glance, touch and kiss was a step closer to their inevitable downfall.