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nanamineedstherapy · 2 months ago

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Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage. Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Polyamory Gone Wrong: Toxic Relationships, Emotional Abuse, Pregnancy Body Horror, Gaslighting, Infidelity, Isolation, Unhealthy Relationships. Previous Chapter 1: Home Is Just a Place You Leave (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 2: Collateral Void

The night air felt cool, brushing softly against your skin as you sat at the dining table, fingers flying across the laptop keyboard. The faint glow of the screen illuminated your focused expression, but the peace was short-lived.

“Boring! Though what kind of work is it? Can I help?” Gojo drawled dramatically, suddenly appearing behind you. Before you could react, his long fingers darted over the keyboard. “What’s this? Spreadsheets? Bleh. Delete. Delete. Delete.”

“Satoru!” You shrieked, smacking his hands away as he howled with laughter, stumbling back like a kid who’d just set off fireworks in a schoolyard. “This is quarterly projections; it’s a highly important document people worked hard on!”

“Oh, come on, you’re working too hard,” he teased, leaning down with his hands on the back of your chair. “Work-life balance, baby. You need more Gojo in your life.”

“I need less Gojo in my life,” you muttered, shoving him off.

The bedroom door slammed open with enough force to rattle the walls. Nanami stormed in like a man possessed, holding up a fractured piece of pottery that looked both ancient and priceless. You recognized it immediately—the Kintsugi Haniwa, a beautifully restored clay figure you’d given him years ago, a piece Nanami revered as a testament to tradition and resilience.

“Satoru!” Nanami said through gritted teeth, his voice low and vibrating with barely restrained rage. “Care to explain why I found this”—he held the artifact higher for emphasis—“chucked under the bedside table?”

Gojo froze mid-smirk, his expression slipping for the first time. “Oh. That—that’s weird. Who would—?”

“You broke it and hid it there!” Nanami growled, keeping the artifact aside, the accusation dripping with certainty.

“Hid is such a strong word,” Gojo replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I simply relocated it.”

“To the floor?” Nanami darted towards Gojo, voice raising with each word, veins practically bulging at his temple.

Gojo sidestepped next to you, standing you up and using you as a human shield. “Look, Nanamin, accidents happen! Why don’t we focus on forgiveness instead of anger?”

The three of you were circling the dining table like children playing a game of tag—except one of those children was trying to commit murder. Gojo kept darting behind you for cover, his grin only widening as Nanami’s rage escalated.

Nanami’s glare sharpened, his voice dropping into a dangerously calm monotone. “First, it was the trimmers. Now this.”

Gojo perked up, suddenly smug. “How do you even know it was me? Maybe she used your trimmer.” He pointed a long, accusatory finger at you.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. “Are you serious?!”

Nanami didn’t even glance your way; his focus stayed zeroed in on Gojo. “Because you are the only one with grandma hair.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest like Nanami had physically stabbed him. “Grandma hair?!”

“It’s white, isn’t it?” Nanami said flatly, unbothered, still trying to grab him.

“Excuse you,” Gojo sputtered, sidestepping Nanami and pointing wildly at his own head. “This is platinum perfection. It’s fashion-forward. It’s—it’s a statement.”

“It’s hereditary decay,” Nanami shot back, not giving up the chase.

You snorted, unable to hold back the laughter as Gojo gaped at both of you in utter betrayal, holding you close to his chest by your waist, trying to block Nanami. “You’re both ganging up on me. This is domestic abuse!”

Nanami’s scowl deepened. “Don't change the topic, Satoru!”

Gojo shrugged innocently. “Hey, at least I cleaned it.”

Nanami’s nostrils flared. “Cleaned it?”

Gojo’s grin turned nervous as he added, “Well, you look mad, so I guess not entirely...”

Nanami lunged forward. “You left all your hair on it! What do you even use my trimmers to trim, because you sure as hell can’t grow facial hair, you manchild!”

“You know what I shave!” Gojo called back, then squealed in delight and bolted, dragging you along.

You froze mid-breath, horror washing over you as the implication hit. “Gojo, do you have a death wish?!”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his eye practically twitching with it as his seething glare intensified. “You shaved your fucking balls with my facial trimmers?!!” He spoke low, advancing like a storm cloud as Gojo circled the table, “Then had the audacity to leave it dirty with your… your gross hair for me to find! Like you are a cat offering me dead animal!?!!”

Gojo darted as Nanami chased him with murder in his eyes. The three of you continued circling the dining table in a chaotic frenzy, Gojo skidding across the floor in his socks, cackling like a lunatic.

“We have exchanged so many bodily fluids, and this is where you draw the line?” Gojo mocked, ducking under Nanami’s arm.

“Disgusting!” Nanami barked, seething as he pointed an accusing finger at Gojo. “I swear to God, Satoru, you are the bane of my existence!”

“But you love me,” Gojo teased, skidding to a stop so suddenly that you stumbled into Nanami. Nanami caught you easily, steadying you with one hand, but nearly crashed into Gojo, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Apologize!” You shouted, stepping between them before Nanami could strangle him.

Gojo huffed dramatically, tossing his head to the side like a diva. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry, Nanamin. Truce?”

Nanami grumbled under his breath, clearly unsatisfied. But before he could say anything else, Gojo grabbed his face, leaned in and kissed him square on the mouth.

Nanami’s entire body froze, his eyes going wide.

“There,” Gojo said smugly, pulling back with a grin. “Divorce dodged! Yay!”

You stared at them, caught between amusement and disbelief. It felt perfect—so perfect you almost wanted to cry. The laughter, the banter, the way they made you feel seen and cared for. You soaked in the moment, memorizing every detail—Gojo’s messy white hair, Nanami’s steadying touch, the golden light filtering through the lamps, casting everything in a soft, warm glow.

“Go ahead, ignore me,” you said jokingly, crossing your arms. “I’m clearly the third wheel here.”

Except they did.

The lights flickered.

Your smile faltered as you blinked, realizing they weren’t paying attention to you anymore. Gojo had grabbed Nanami again, pulling him closer. Their voices dropped into hushed murmurs, unintelligible and distant. You opened your mouth to say something, but they didn’t respond. They were kissing again. Fully.

And they were across the table now, far away—too far.

“Guys?” you said, laughing nervously. But the sound was thin, swallowed by the sudden heaviness in the room.

Gojo’s face blurred at the edges, his features smeared like wet paint dragged by careless fingers. Nanami’s figure was rigid, his face unreadable as shadows pooled at his feet, darker than they should have been. The air shifted—heavy, oppressive—pressing against your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake.

“Hello?” You tried again, louder this time. Your voice cracked slightly.

Nothing.

They didn’t turn toward you, didn’t even flinch. They were consumed with each other, as though you weren’t even there. The shadows stretched further now, creeping into the corners of the room like black ink spilling across the floor.

“Stop it,” you said, your tone sharper, though a pit began to form in your stomach. Their forms were blurring further, warping. The golden light dimmed, turning sickly and cold. The dining room, once warm and filled with laughter, twisted into something unfamiliar—something wrong.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from us,” Nanami said, suddenly turning to you. His voice was hollow, devoid of the calm warmth it usually carried. The words sent a chill crawling up your spine.

“What?” Your gaze darted between them, your chest tightening. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo’s head snapped toward you with unnatural speed, his blindfold gone. His six eyes glowed horribly bright, the light of them reflecting like mirrors in the dark. His smile was gone, replaced by something jagged and cruel, something inhuman.

“You didn’t think we’d find out?” he said softly. There was no teasing in his tone, no charm—just an edge of menace. “About them?”

“Them?” you echoed, the word barely escaping your lips. Nanami stepped closer now, his movements slow, deliberate. His face was shrouded in shadow, his features obscured like they were melting into the dark.

“The twins,” Gojo said, the word cutting through the room like a blade.

Your breath hitched as Nanami advanced, the shadows around him crawling along the floor, reaching for you like grasping hands.

“You weren’t supposed to know,” you whispered, instinctively wrapping your arms around your stomach. Your pulse roared in your ears as the room tilted, the walls pressing inward, suffocating you.

“We have to take them,” Nanami said, still moving towards you, his voice distorted, as though it came from deep underwater.

Gojo smiled again, moving towards you, his grin splitting unnaturally wide, the corners of his mouth stretching just a little too far. “We can’t let them live. You know that, sweetheart.”

“No! They’re mine,” you choked out, stumbling backward, your arms tightening protectively around yourself. The table between you seemed to shrink, leaving you exposed as they advanced.

“You can’t keep them from us,” they said in unison, softly, the words curling through the air like smoke.

“Stop!” you screamed, but their forms warped, dark shapes spilling into the edges of your vision. The shadows surged forward, hands reaching—

You jolted awake in the chair with a sharp gasp, your body trembling violently as you shot upright. The room was dark again, save for the faint glow of a screen. Your breathing came in ragged bursts, your pulse thundering as you clutched your stomach, feeling the reassuring movements beneath your palms.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

The laptop sat open in front of you, the spreadsheet forgotten, the cursor blinking insistently in the silence. The apartment was quiet, but the echoes of their voices lingered, a whisper in the back of your mind—a threat you couldn’t shake.

The shadows felt darker now.

“They’re mine,” you whispered shakily, curling in on yourself. “They’re mine.”

Weeks had passed.

You had buried yourself in a new country with the same job because you couldn’t abandon the business you had painstakingly built alone, with your blood, sweat, and tears. It was all you had left of yourself—the last thing tethering you to who you used to be. You ensured no one could access your personal information, locking it away like a fortress. Still, you felt like a ghost, drifting through a life where no one knew your name, where no one could see the haunting memories that followed you.

Your days were a blur of meetings, phone calls, and paperwork. You let go of every luxury, stripped yourself down to the bare essentials—as if even the smallest indulgence might give them a clue, might allow them to trace you. Not that they would. Your days were spent in a tiny apartment that didn’t even feel like a home. The walls were too close, the air too still, and the silence stretched on like a second skin. It wasn’t a home. It was a box—cold, cramped, and indifferent—where you ate alone, worked alone, and slept in fits and starts, the hours fractured by dreams you couldn’t escape.

The nights were the hardest.

Alone in a foreign city, you lay twisted with pain, your body betraying you in ways you didn’t know were possible. Your skin felt stretched too thin, muscles aching like they were being pulled apart, reshaped against your will. The babies—their babies, no! your babies—grew inside you, alien things that contorted you from the inside out. Every sharp twinge of pain felt unnatural, every shift of movement a cruel reminder of what they had left behind. You couldn’t help but wonder if your body might rip open entirely, split down the seams. The changes weren’t normal. Your bones creaked and groaned under the weight of something you couldn’t understand, your body remaking itself to accommodate children who were never supposed to be here.

You worked through it. You worked through everything. The nausea that made your hands tremble. The exhaustion that dragged your eyelids shut. The cold sweat that drenched your skin as the babies pushed against you, growing and moving with a purpose that felt wrong. It was all wrong. But still, you sat hunched over documents and contracts, your vision blurring until your eyes burned, pushing through the pain until the lines of text no longer made sense. Anything to keep the memories at bay.

But they crept in anyway.

Gojo’s laughter. That unmistakable, infectious sound that could fill a room with light. It used to be enough to pull you out of your darkest thoughts, but now it echoed like a cruel reminder of what was lost. Nanami’s quiet, steady presence haunted you too—those rare moments when his stoic mask cracked, when the tenderness beneath the weight of his quiet sorrow slipped through. The fleeting seconds when everything had felt right, when you believed you were loved, when the world seemed like it could wait just a little longer.

Those moments were gone, but they still haunted you. They slipped through the cracks when you least expected it, invading the silence, invading the cold. The life you had left behind wouldn’t let you forget.

You had traded one form of isolation for another.

But at least this one was on your terms. At least now, you were alone because you chose to be. You weren’t the woman who had thrown everything away for them, not anymore. That woman was gone.

Your old phone, now completely untraceable, stayed on out of morbid curiosity. You didn’t know why. Maybe you wanted to see how long it would take for them to notice you were gone. If they ever would. Maybe they were happy you were out of the picture. Maybe your absence was a relief. You kept a new phone for work, clean and also untraceable, and refused to check their social media. You couldn’t bear to.

Back in Japan

It started with the ring.

The bedroom door slammed open just as the first pale rays of dawn broke across the sky. Gojo stumbled inside first, his uniform coat discarded in the living room next to Nanami’s coat, tie, and their shoes. His pale blue shirt completely untucked and unbuttoned, almost sliding off his shoulders, revealing his toned chest down to his navel. Nanami stumbled after him, his arm wrapped around Gojo’s waist from behind to steady him, his teeth leaving faint, red marks against the back of Gojo’s shoulder blade. Both of them swayed like ships lost at sea, unmoored and directionless. The unmistakable scent of alcohol clung to them—whiskey, gin and tequila, sharp and sour in the still air.

Gojo turned and pressed Nanami against the wall within seconds, his long fingers tangling into Nanami’s hair, lips dragging lazily along his jawline. Nanami’s face was flushed, and he was uncharacteristically pliant, unresisting. His hands drifted to Gojo’s hips, sliding lower, grounding himself through touch.

“Satoru,” Nanami muttered, his voice breathless, strained—a fleeting attempt at lucidity. “Do you know where she is?”

Gojo didn’t pause, his grin sharp against Nanami’s skin as he murmured, biting softly, “‘She’? Who’s she?”

Nanami’s hands tensed at his sides. “Our wife.” His voice broke slightly on the word. “You haven’t seen her?”

Gojo finally pulled back, crystalline eyes hazy and lidded, his blindfold dangling from Nanami’s wrist again like some forgotten relic. “Of course not. I thought you knew where she went.” His smirk faltered only slightly before he dragged and pushed Nanami backward toward the bed. “Don’t ruin the moment. She’s probably on a trip—working hard, being the boss lady we love.”

Nanami let himself fall onto the mattress with a bounce as Gojo straddled him, hands already wandering over his waist. Gojo pressed and rubbed their bulges together, punching a groan out of Nanami, who breathlessly stuttered as he tried to speak again, but Gojo kissed him roughly, stealing his words. It was messy, desperate—a distraction from something neither of them wanted to name. Still, the nagging thought clawed at Nanami’s mind, like a splinter he couldn’t ignore.

“She didn’t tell me,” he muttered, barely audible between gasps, his hands trying to still Gojo’s ass. “Where she was going.”

Gojo paused for half a second, then scoffed, rolling his hips once more as though to smother the thought. “You think she tells me everything? Haha, funny. She always tells you, though.” His words slurred slightly, dismissive.

“That’s not true.” Nanami said while the table beside them jolted as Gojo pushed Nanami further into the mattress, the sharp clink of metal against marble cutting through the room like gunshot.

Making Nanami still instantly.

“What was that?” His voice was low, tight. The haze of lust and alcohol shattered like glass.

Gojo blinked, lifting his head lazily. “Probably your sanity leaving the room,” he muttered.

Nanami ignored him, leaning to the side and shoving the bedside table back with his foot, earning a low scraping sound as it moved. Gojo groaned, trying to tug him back down as he continued assaulting Nanami’s neck and now his shoulders, which peeked through his half-unbuttoned and completely untucked shirt with bites, but Nanami’s focus was elsewhere. He leaned down further, and the room fell silent to him.

There, half-hidden in the dust and shadows, lay a small, glinting band of gold.

Nanami’s fingers shook as he picked it up. The ring cold against his skin, familiar and damning all at once. He stared at it like it might burn him.

It was her ring.

“Satoru,” Nanami said quietly, grabbing Gojo’s jaw with one hand—who had been too busy biting his shoulder to notice—and turned him to face it. His voice was fraying at the edges as he held up the ring, its gleam sharp in the weak dawn light. “What’s this doing here?”

Gojo stared at it for too long. The color drained from his face, the drunken nonchalance slipping further with every second. “She probably took it off,” he said finally, though his voice cracked. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “You know she gets eczema sometimes… itchy hands, right?”

The words hung in the air, hollow and pitiful. Gojo didn’t believe them any more than Nanami did.

Nanami shook his head slowly, his grip on the ring tightening as his knuckles turned white. “She always wears it when she’s on work trips,” he said, his voice hoarse, brittle. “She says it keeps creeps away.”

Gojo didn’t respond. He just stared, his wide eyes fixed on the small, damning band of gold as though it held all the answers to everything. Nanami didn’t wait for him. He shoved Gojo off and bolted from the room, his bare feet thudding against the floor as he grabbed his phone from his coat in the living room.

“Nanami, wait—” Gojo stumbled after him, still dazed, but Nanami was already swiping through his phone, his thumb moving in quick, frantic motions.

His heart sank.

Her last message to him—the last sign of her—was over six weeks ago.

Six weeks.

Six weeks, and he hadn’t noticed?

Gojo could have been an idiot, but he wasn’t, or so he had always thought.

The color drained from Gojo’s face as he stared at the screen while the realization spread through Nanami’s heart like poison. Without a word, Nanami reached over, his hand dipping into Gojo’s pants' front pocket to pull out his phone. Gojo let him, watching as Nanami unlocked it and scrolled through the messages.

The screen glowed with the same message. The same day. The last day they had heard from her. The day in the drawing room she had begged them to tell her if they loved her.

A chill settled into the room, sinking deep into their bones, heavy and unshakable. Nanami’s hand dropped to his side; the ring, along with the phones, slipped from his fingers and landed with a dull thud on the floor. The silence that followed was choking. Nanami turned to Gojo, his face blank, but his eyes were wide, wild with a horror he couldn’t contain.

Gojo stood frozen, his earlier bravado gone. He looked smaller somehow, his face pale and slack as the weight of what they’d done—what they’d lost—sank in.

“She’s gone,” Nanami whispered, the words barely audible, like a confession he couldn’t bear to say any louder.

“She’s not gone!” Gojo shot back immediately. He laughed—a hollow, desperate sound—as if the act of saying it would make it true. “As I said earlier, she’s probably just... just out. On a work trip. She’ll be back. She always comes back...”

But his voice trembled at the edges, and they both knew the truth now. The ring on the floor gleamed coldly, like evidence of everything they had destroyed—everything they couldn’t take back. Like a final goodbye neither of them had ever thought of.

The same night, after too many sleeping pills in your new home on the other side of the world, your vision blurred and your body felt like it was splitting apart; you opened your old phone to look at old pictures. After a few hours it buzzed, and against your better judgment, you looked.

Toru (DNR): “Where are you?”

The message sat there, glaring. Your heart dropped. Another followed seconds later.

Ken (DNR): “We messed up. We apologize. Please. Just tell us you’re okay.”

You threw the phone, your vision swimming in tears, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. After more than six weeks of you leaving, more than six weeks of silence, after everything they had done, now they noticed? Now they cared?

It was too late. You had built walls around yourself now, high and impenetrable. The same walls you’d erected when you had realized, too late, that you weren’t loved—not the way you had been promised. They weren’t even the people you thought they were.

The city’s lights blinked outside your window, distant and indifferent, like the glow of a world that had moved on without you. Somewhere out there, they were searching for you, but you didn’t care anymore. You had traded the ghost of their love for the numbness of being alone in this foreign place.

Back in Japan

More days passed.

Their apartment remained frozen, a mausoleum of the life you had left behind. Your old laptop still sat neatly on your desk, untouched and gathering dust. The faint imprint of your body lingered on the couch cushions, as if you might walk in at any moment and collapse there, laughing about how long the work trip had been. But you never would. Not anymore.

Gojo filled the silence with noise. The television blared cartoons he wasn’t watching. Music thumped from his phone, but the songs ended too quickly, leaving the hollow quiet to seep back in like poison. He laughed too loud, talked too fast, his words tumbling out like he could outrun the ache blooming in his chest.

“She’s fine,” he’d say to no one. To Nanami. To himself. “She’s just being dramatic. She’ll come back when she’s ready, when her work is over. She always comes back...”

But at night, when Nanami wasn’t around, when the weight of it all pressed against him like an iron hand, Gojo sat in the dark, the only light spilling in through the half-open blinds. He would pull your favorite blanket off the back of the couch, holding it tightly to his chest. It used to smell like you—that soft, warm scent that made him feel like everything would be okay. It never actually did. He’d bury his face in the fabric anyway, clutching it so tightly his fingers ached, as if he could squeeze the memory of you out of it.

“Stupid blanket,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice cracking. “You were supposed to keep her here.”

The quiet answered him. It always did.

Nanami, on the other hand, threw himself into work. The apartment had become unbearable, the sight of your clothes hanging in the closet like a ghost driving him out into the cold. He buried himself in files, meetings and missions, anything to drown out the sound of your absence echoing through his skull. But no matter how hard he tried, you found him anyway.

It was in the middle of a crowded street crossing that he saw you. For a fleeting second, he froze, his breath catching painfully in his throat. A woman parked a convertible just ahead, her hair falling in the same way yours used to, her jacket a perfect match to the one you bought last winter. He pushed forward, shoving past commuters, his heart pounding like it might tear itself free from his chest.

“Honey,” he breathed when he reached her, only to stop dead when she turned. A stranger’s face stared back at him, startled and confused.

Nanami’s apology was soft, choked. He turned away quickly, gripping the strap of his grocery bag so tightly his knuckles blanched. His eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall.

Later, he found himself in your office, the door locked behind him, the room suffocatingly still. The desk was untouched, a fountain pen left on your favorite notebook where you had last placed it, its tip dried out. An old grocery list lay discarded by the mechanical keyboard. Nanami picked it up carefully, his thumb tracing over your handwriting, the curve of each letter searing into his mind.

Vitamins. Sticky Notes. Under-eye serum.

The list was mundane, ordinary, but his hands trembled as he held it. He could almost hear you muttering to yourself as you wrote it, pursing your lip in concentration. His vision blurred, and he sank into your desk chair, his free hand moving to his tie, removing it, then wrapping it around his knuckles, gripping it tightly. The silk bit into his fingers as he pulled, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The silence, the unbearable ache in his ribs—he tried to choke it all down, twisting the tie as though it could hold him together.

But it couldn’t.

He’d often do this now, lock himself in your home office, gripping his tie until his knuckles turned white, as if that could choke the guilt down.

Gojo found him there hours later, the list still crumpled in his hand, his head bowed as though in prayer. Neither of them spoke. Gojo didn’t laugh this time, didn’t tease. He just stood in the doorway, silent and pale, his eyes fixed on the man who had always been stronger than this—who now looked just as broken as Gojo felt.

One night, Nanami arrived home to find Gojo sitting on the floor, facing the wall, staring blankly ahead as though he could see through it. The light from the dim lamp cast faint shadows across his face, carving hollows beneath his eyes, which looked emptier than Nanami had ever seen them.

The silence in the room wrapping itself around Nanami’s throat as he shrugged off his coat. Gojo didn’t move, didn’t even blink, his hands limp in his lap, fingers twitching faintly as though they were searching for something to hold on to. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse, hollow—a broken whisper that felt like it had been ripped from somewhere deep inside him.

“I… I shouldn’t have isolated her that day.” He didn’t look at Nanami, his gaze still fixed on some distant point beyond the wall. “When… I didn’t think about what it would do to her.”

Nanami froze mid-step, eyes sharp as they fell on Gojo. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the city outside. Nanami’s expression hardened, though his voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet, cold, cutting.

“You think I don’t know that?” His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “I know, Gojo. I know exactly what we did to her. How we fucked up. How we forgot about her.”

The words hit Gojo, but he didn’t react. He just let them hang there, sinking into his chest like stones. His lips twitched, a ghost of a self-loathing smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Forgot about her…” he repeated softly.

Nanami didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His jaw tightened, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface, too raw to voice. He watched Gojo slump further, his knees drawing up slightly as though he were folding in on himself.

A few nights later, Gojo was sprawled on the couch with a drink in hand, the liquor doing little to numb the ache in his chest. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts racing, spiraling downward into a dark abyss.

“She’s not coming back, is she?” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips, but they landed heavily in the room, a painful truth.

Nanami didn’t answer, but the guilt in his eyes spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of their shared failure.

The memory of you haunted every inch of their apartment. Gojo saw you in the pillow he clutched to his chest at night, pretending it still carried your scent. Nanami heard you in the faint creak of the floorboards as he walked past your office, his hands brushing the edge of the desk you used to sit at. They never said your name. It hurt too much.

“We thought we were protecting her,” Nanami said, voice a quiet rasp as he stared at the empty wall Gojo had been fixated on.

Gojo’s lips twitched faintly, a bitter mockery of a smile. “We thought wrong.”

Neither of them slept at nights. Gojo lay on his side, staring at the window with red-rimmed eyes, while Nanami lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, wearing your ring on one finger—he kept rolling it with his thumb absentmindedly. The silence between them was absolute, filled with everything they had left unsaid.

It was the silence you had lived in for far too long.

They called. They texted. They waited. The apartment stayed quiet. Your things stayed untouched. And the void you left behind grew deeper with every passing day.

Five months into your pregnancy, you lay sprawled on the bathroom floor, your body slick with sweat, fingers clawing at the cold tiles for stability. You’d slipped and fallen, your phone nowhere in sight, the apartment eerily quiet except for the harshness of your breath.You didn’t know how long you’d been there—minutes, hours, days—time had lost all meaning. Your stomach roiled violently, muscles clenched in spasms so sharp they stole the air from your lungs. It felt as though your insides were being shredded, your bones splintering and grinding, like they were trying to rearrange themselves to accommodate the impossible.

A guttural gasp tore from your throat as another wave of pain ripped through you. You pressed a trembling palm to your abdomen, feeling the unnatural shift beneath your skin. The twins moved—twisted and writhed in a way no baby should, their forceful movements pressing outward like they were fighting to escape or fighting for space, too strong, too demanding. Your skin stretched tight, painfully taut, burning with the strain of holding them in. It felt like something alive and wrong, something too strong for your fragile human body.

The veins beneath your skin bulged out, an intricate web of blue and purple crisscrossing your stomach like angry rivers about to burst. Your abdomen swelled grotesquely, the skin shiny and thin, and for one terrifying moment, you thought it might tear open entirely. The bones in your hips creaked audibly under the weight, the sound a grotesque whisper that echoed through the silent bathroom. Your spine screamed with every slight shift, vertebrae grinding against each other as though your body was folding into itself, trying to protect you from the inevitable.

Tears slid down your cheeks, hot and bitter, though you barely registered them. It wasn’t just the pain—God, the pain—but the isolation that cut the deepest. You had never felt so utterly alone, so abandoned. Not just by the city you didn’t belong to, but by them. By the men who were supposed to love you. Who should have been here. Your breaths came in short, harsh bursts, the sound bouncing off the tiles, sharp and hollow.

“We don’t need them,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you pressed harder against your stomach, trying to soothe the frantic movements. Your words cracked, brittle and weak. “We don’t.”

But your heart betrayed you, aching in your chest like a wound torn open anew. You could still see them if you closed your eyes—Gojo’s infectious grin, his arms around you as though he could hold the whole world together. Nanami’s steady, grounding presence, his quiet strength that had once made you feel safe. Loved. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to swallow the sob clawing its way up your throat.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they weren’t here, that they had left you alone to bear this. To bear them. Yet, in the silence of that bathroom, the darkness swallowing you whole, you realized you were lying to yourself. You missed them. You missed them so much it hurt.

You blamed it on your hormones, soothing your stomach. It was a miracle you hadn’t fallen in a way that could have hurt the babies. Just then, the twins moved again, a violent lurch that left you gasping, your body arching involuntarily as another jolt of pain seared through you. The sharp pressure pushed against your ribs, a sensation like tiny hands and feet pressing outward, testing the limits of your body. Your skin rippled faintly, the bulge of their movements visible beneath the surface.

You shuddered, your tears mixing with sweat as they dripped down onto the tile. What are you? You wanted to scream, but the words wouldn’t come. The horror of it—the body horror of carrying something so unnatural, so wrong—settled like a stone in your chest. You weren’t sure you could take it anymore.

“Mama will take care of you both,” you whispered shakily, trying to soothe yourself as much as them. Your hand rubbed slow, shaky circles over your stomach. It was the only comfort you had left—this fragile, strange connection. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

And like always, the sensation of their movements softened at the sound of your voice. The pressure beneath your skin eased slightly, the frantic shifting slowing into restless, jerking flutters. It wasn’t much, but it gave you enough space to breathe, to push down the rising panic, to push forward. Your muscles trembled as you moved, dragging yourself toward the bathtub, one hand bracing against the toilet seat for balance. Your body protested, hips throbbing, spine sparking with pain, but you kept going.

“Just a little bit more movement,” you murmured to the twins, coaxing them as though they could hear you. “And Mama will be vertical again. Then we can have some dark chocolate… you know, the one you’ve been craving? The only one both Dadas used to love. We’ll watch…”

The words cut off abruptly as your foot slipped on the damp tile. You gasped, arms flailing, but your body betrayed you. The porcelain edge slamming into your head with a horrible thud.

For a moment, everything was soundless.

A hollow ringing filled your ears, the bathroom blurring around you as your vision dimmed at the edges. The pain in your skull throbbed in time with your heartbeat, sharp and unrelenting. You pressed your palms to your forehead, curling around yourself, trying to shield the twins from the impact.

“No, no, no,” you whimpered, your voice a cracked whisper.

The darkness pulled at you, threatening to drag you under, but you fought it, laying back down to press your forehead to the cold tile. Your breathing was ragged, uneven, your pulse hammering in your ears as you held onto the only thought that mattered.

They are okay.

Your hand pressed against your belly again, searching for the faint, familiar movements beneath your skin. For a horrifying moment, there was nothing. Then, faintly, you felt it—a small, restless flutter. Tears streamed down your cheeks, hot and silent, as you curled against the floor, the relief making your limbs weak.

“It’s okay,” you whispered brokenly, as much to yourself as to them. “It’s okay. Mama’s here. Mama’s okay. You will be okay.”

But even as you said it, the weight of everything—the pain, the isolation, the unnatural horror of what was happening to your body—threatened to swallow you whole.

“Hey! Are you okay?” A voice came from nowhere. Deep, rough, like it belonged to someone who had been waiting for this moment.

You froze, immediately clutching your stomach as the babies shifted again, their movements sharp and jarring. Had they found you already? How could they have known? How could anyone have known? You looked around, panic seizing your chest. The pain from your fall still burned, but the thought of someone being so close made your stomach churn. You clutched your belly tighter, trying to protect them, protect yourself.

“Hey, I know you can hear me. Do you need me to call an ambulance?” The voice was insistent, but there was something else there, a knowing edge to it that sent a chill crawling down your spine.

You noticed that the voice was coming from the wall next to the tub.

“Who’s it?” You managed to ask, gathering what little courage you had left, trying to steady your shaking voice.

“Your neighbor,” the man’s voice said, his tone low, almost a growl. “I’ve seen you around. I think you’re pregnant, right? With twins?”

You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. How could he possibly know that? Your heart skipped a beat. How much did he know?

“How’d you know it’s twins?” you asked, your voice tight, filled with suspicion. This man seemed too aware, too knowledgeable.

“I’m a sorcerer too, like the men’s children you carry,” the man continued, his voice a low rumble that seemed to reverberate in your bones. “Just the one who deserted the hopeless crusade. And well, my technique allows me to sense things like this, but you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t partake in that world anymore. Haven’t in a really long time.”

His words sank in slowly, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe him. His explanation was coherent, his tone calm, almost reassuring. You were too exhausted, too delirious with pain to think clearly. It made sense in your sleep-deprived and pain-addled state.

“I... I can’t go to the hospital,” you whispered, your throat raw. “Could you just help me up?”

There was a pause, a shift in the air. “I’ll help you,” the man said, his voice now excited, or maybe happy, like he was suddenly hyperactive. “But I’ll have to break the door down to get in. I’ll fix it after, with a stronger lock.”

“Sure, no issues.” Beggars couldn’t be choosers. You didn’t have the strength to protest. You were already lost in the fog of exhaustion, pain, and confusion. He was here. He would help you.

Soon the sound of splintering wood echoed through your apartment, followed by the dull thud of heavy footsteps. Each step reverberated like a low drumbeat, slow and deliberate, growing closer until they stopped just outside the bathroom door. The handle turned once, then creaked open with an eerie calm. You felt a chill run through you, something more than the cold air from the cracked window. It wasn’t just the wind that made your skin crawl. There was something wrong about this man, something dangerous. But in your haze, you couldn’t put your finger on it.

You couldn’t even see him at first—your vision swam from the pain, your body sprawled awkwardly on the cold tile floor. The sharp edge of the sink bit into your side as you tried to sit upright, your other trembling hand pressed protectively against your stomach. The air shifted, heavier somehow, like something massive had entered the room. You forced yourself to look up, squinting through the haze.

He stood in the doorway, tall enough that he seemed to block out the light spilling in from the hall. He had to duck slightly to clear the frame, stepping inside with a confidence that bordered on insolence, like he owned the place. He was broad-shouldered, his form looming and imposing, dressed in a loose hoodie that made him look even larger. His face was partially obscured by shadows, but you caught glimpses of sharp, angular features—a jawline carved from stone and eyes, predatory and unreadable.

“Hey, the fall looks nasty.” He said as he crouched slowly, knees bending with a shift of worn jeans fabric as he brought himself down to your level. The movement was unsettlingly fluid for someone so massive. Especially since he was still looming over you like a giant.

Up close, you could see him better—his face was unnervingly smooth for a man who carried himself like he’d lived through hell. His hair was short and faintly disheveled, like he hadn’t cared enough to fix it. You couldn’t tell if he was young or old.

“Your sorcerer's brats…I can feel it. They’re… restless, aren’t they?” He said matter-of-factly, his gaze drifting pointedly to your swollen abdomen.

The words sent a shiver crawling down your spine, and you became hyperaware that you were only in a flimsy nightgown as you protectively clutched your stomach. “How do you know that?” you managed to croak out, your voice trembling.

He shrugged one massive shoulder. “It’s my hobby to know these things.” His tone was mocking, almost bored, but there was an undercurrent of something darker there, something that made your chest tighten. “And you’re in pain far too often, aren’t you?”

You glared at him, eyes narrowing. “You walk around noticing pregnant women?!!”

“No, the service is exclusive to you, princess.” He said, laughing, the sound so loud it was rumbling in your bones.

You flinched as he reached for you, his hand massive, calloused, and littered with faint scars.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed instinctively, curling tighter around your stomach, but the effort sent a fresh wave of pain ripping through your abdomen. You gasped sharply, vision blurring at the edges again.

The man didn’t pull back, didn’t flinch at your outburst. Instead, he studied you with a quiet, unsettling patience, as though deciding something important. Finally, he exhaled, a sound like a low growl, and said, "Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be."

Before you could protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, his arm sliding carefully beneath your knees and back like you weighed negative but also fragile. However, you stiffened, every muscle in your body tensing as he lifted you, the pressure in your abdomen worsening with the shift in gravity.

“Put me down,” you gritted out, struggling weakly against his hold, but he didn’t budge. The grip he had on you was far stronger than anything you could have fought.

“You’re stubborn,” he muttered, sounding vaguely amused again. “You can fight me later. For now, shut up and let me help you.”

Your head lolled against his chest, the fight draining from you as the pain surged again. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your vision blurred further. You caught the faint scent of him—smoke, faintly metallic, and something almost feral, something wrong that made the hair on your arms stand on end. He didn’t smell like anyone you’d ever met before.

“Why are you helping me?” you murmured weakly, your voice barely above a whisper

His features softened at the question, and when he answered, his tone was quieter, but no less unsettling.

“Because someone should.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning you couldn’t unravel. You blinked up at him through half-lidded eyes, the edges of your consciousness starting to fray as exhaustion tugged at you. He didn’t look down, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression unreadable, but there was something about the way he held you—something deliberate, something protective—that made you believe him, if only for a moment.

The last thing you heard before you drifted into unconsciousness was the sound of his low, rumbling voice, almost to himself.

“You’re tougher than you look, princess.”

And then the darkness swallowed you whole as he lay you on your bed.

The next day you had woken up feeling human again, or as human as you could feel in your human vending machine state. You were cocooned in far warmer blankets that you didn’t own, surrounded by vitamins, pregnancy pain medications, and food in the fridge that you hadn’t ordered. The front door of your apartment was now reinforced, and by the kitchen counter, new keys were attached to a sticky note bearing a name. His name.

A/N: Feel like throwing your phone yet? Good. 🫠 That means I’ve done my job. Now, let’s talk about him. The towering enigma with predator energy who broke into your apartment like it’s a casual Tuesday and called you “princess.” (✿ ͡👁️ ᴗ ͡👁️) WHO IS HE?! Shadowy savior? Bored stalker? Gym bro with too much free time? Is this Toji’s long-lost cousin? Sukuna in a hoodie? Kashimo on his day off? Choso after therapy? Or someone even worse? 😱 Bonus points if you drop “Gakuganji” in the comments for chaos. (╯ ͡❛ ᴗ ͡❛)╯┻━┻ Team Nanami? Team Gojo? Team Mystery Hunk? Or Team ‘Let Reader Nap in Peace’? 🤔 Drop your loyalty, wildest theories, unhinged guesses, and thirst-fueled fan-castings below because this love story is messier than Gojo’s hair on a Monday. Next chapter: Yaga playing babysitter for two emotionally constipated men who need therapy, not bail money, and maybe why Reader deleted her socials. Until then, stop shaving your hoo-ha with someone else’s trimmers—Gojo would 100% snitch to HR. 💅 And if you’re not on the taglist yet, comment below to join the chaos. 😈

Next Chapter 3 - Corporate Warfare: Protocol The Circus of Two (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth

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starcurtain · 12 days ago

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Another Phaidei Fic I Want to Read

It's the political arranged marriage AU but make it (ooooo) complicated~

Crown Prince Mydeimos of Castrum Kremnos was born under a dark star, with a prophecy of abject despair uttered at the moment of his birth: Mydeimos will be the last king of Kremnos. The city-state will fall, her people will be lost, and the glory of Strife entirely will fade into nameless oblivion. Year after year, the prophets repeat the same warnings: Mydeimos is cursed, and he will bring the downfall of their kingdom and all its inhabitants.

But no one in Kremnos knew just how cursed their prince was until the day the regent's war council convinced their king to do the unthinkable: If Mydeimos was sacrificed, perhaps their prophecy of destruction could be averted and Kremnos saved...

Only Mydei couldn't even die like he was supposed to. No matter how many times he was mortally wounded, the boy just kept standing up--not even Thanatos would take him. That glorious death in battle that all Kremnoan warriors were expected to achieve--even this most central aspect of Mydei's own culture rejected him.

This life of betrayal and total loneliness, with the promise of eventually destroying everything he knew and cared for, seemed inescapable--until one day, when Mydeimos had already passed the age of majority (and would have long since been allowed to challenge his father for the crown if it weren't for the despair prophesied to be his reign), a new vision was shared among all of their people's seers: There was a way to avert their kingdom's impending destruction and save their people. "Only the son of Aedes Elysiae can deliver Castrum Kremnos from the dark tide and restore the true king to her throne."

Aedes Elysiae is a tiny city-state with nowhere near enough military might to defend against a full onslaught from the Kremnoans. But the risk that the Elysian prince could be harmed--and all of Kremnos' future lost in the process--is too high to engage in a traditional war of conquest. Although it runs contrary to the Kremnoans' very natures, if it means securing their kingdom's future and hiding the truth of their foreseen fate forever, they will engage in any manner of subterfuge and political maneuvering necessary.

Namely, by using the threat of war to force Aedes Elysiae to surrender their crown prince to a permanent and binding political alliance. If the Elysians want to avoid obliteration by the military might of the Kremnoans, they will tie the destiny of their crown prince to the Strifewalkers' through blood and oath--a marriage to Kremnos' own Prince Mydeimos. In this way, perhaps the curse can finally be outweighed by the glory of a savior.

Enter Phainon: the pride and joy of Aedes Elysiae, the golden sun to his people, loved by everyone who knows him. Although his heart has always been soft and romantic, rebelling fiercely at the idea of marrying someone he's never met and doesn't love, there is nothing Phainon won't do to protect his people and his kingdom--even if it means sacrificing himself.

So Phainon agrees to leave his family and homeland behind, and makes the miserable journey to Castrum Kremnos to meet his destiny... as well as his new husband.

Too bad Mydei wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

Disgusted by his father's willingness to forsake Kremnos' sacred principles of pride and integrity by using underhanded tactics and falsehoods to force Aedes Elysiae's prince into compliance, Mydei refuses to even acknowledge his marriage to Phainon, let alone look in his fellow prince's direction.

Which wouldn't be a problem, honestly, if it weren't for the fact that poor Phainon is smitten within days.

When the Kremnoans were strong-arming Aedes Elysiae's king into giving up his beloved son, why had no one thought to just tell Phainon that Prince Mydeimos was so... so... upright and honest and brave and powerful and gorgeous and straightforward and humorous and quick-witted and honorable and also gorgeous? (Phainon thinks perhaps this last point should be repeated a few more times for good measure.) Truly, Phainon might have gone willingly if anyone had just thought to show him a portrait of his husband-to-be in advance!

While Phainon struggles to catch his own husband's attention and soften Mydei's seemingly unbreakable stone heart, Mydei struggles with his father's demands to keep his curse hidden, to not reveal the omen of destruction lurking behind this sham of a marriage. Though having to lie shreds every last tatter of pride Mydei has, if this prince of Aedes Elysiae discovers the truth, that he's been brought here solely to counteract Mydei's prophesied inability to reign, Kremnos' enemies will know it within the hour. A single weakness will be all the world needs to turn on the Kremnoans, to bring Mydei's terrible destiny to pass.

And... And if Phainon learns the truth about Mydeimos, about his curse, about how he is an abomination that not even death will accept, about the misery he is destined to bring, about the failures that are sure to come, about how he is hated by his country, his people, his own family--then Mydei will lose the first person who has ever smiled freely at him, ever wanted to walk beside him, ever spoke kind words in his direction...

There is no way Phainon would ever look at him the same again.

There is no way Phainon would stay.

And that would be cruelest fate of all.

(What Mydei and Castrum Kremnos don't know is that Phainon has a secret of his own: He's not royalty by blood in the slightest. He was a penniless orphan who just got lucky enough to be taken in by the castle and end up, through twists in his own destiny, to be raised by the childless rulers of Elysiae from nothing but the kindness of their hearts.

There is no son of Aedes Elysiae to save Castrum Kremnos from its fate--and the dark tide comes for all.

But visions bestowed by the gods must not be doubted. Perhaps the combined efforts of two lonely people--the one who forsook his own land for love and the one who could only be loved by someone from another land--will see the sun of Aedes Elysiae delivered to Kremnos once more...

And put a true and honest king upon her throne at last.)

#honkai star rail #phaidei #myphai #mydei #phainon #amphoreus #amphoreus spoilers #maybe slightly #even though this is an AU #look man I just need to see everyone angsting over hidden identities #Mydei acting so proud but having crushingly low self-worth from a life of being villianized and ostracized #Phainon ancient Greek googling 'How can I make the man I'm married to notice me'#mutual pining but being so sure the other person could never love them #listen I think every ship needs an “arranged marriage royalty” AU #but the fact that I couldn't ALREADY find one for this ship #which is literally PERFECT FOR THIS TROPE #is actually crazy #send fics #please help

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 3 months ago

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The Beast and The Sweetest Cherry

Part One

Warnings: SMUT, Virgin!OC, Period Drama, Angst, Dark, Beauty and The Beast, Arranged Marriage.

Summary: Just outside a small town up near a chilly mountain range, lies a large black manor, home to a cruel Lord with a dark secret. The town lives with a strict set of rules that keeps them safe, and avoid the bad tempered Lord's wrath as much as they can. One day, a young girl offers herself up to the cruel Lord leading to passionate disarray when the virgin meets the Beast.

The Beast had promised wealth to restore her father’s fortunes and more. They assured her that the Beast wouldn’t kill her.

“No,�� a deep voice rumbled behind her. She hadn’t heard the Beast arrive.

He stood back, tall and broad shouldered as her father had said, watching from the depths of his cloak. The winter wind caught the black folds, whipping them tight against his massive body, but never stirred around his face. Venus couldn’t make out his features, though she thought perhaps she caught the gleam of a white tooth. And was that the shadow of a muzzle?

She shuddered, looking away quickly.

“No, Venus,” the Beast said, “I will never take you by force. I will only take you when you ask me to. That one choice, at least, will always be yours.”

Venus stirred uneasily inside the confines of her gown. Something about his words seemed…unwholesome somehow. She could not see him clearly, and she was under the impression that he was hideous. Too hideous to reveal himself. Venus rubbed her arm nervously beneath her sheer and very revealing white night gown. Her chocolate ringlets cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like a wild flower. It had been a full day since they exchanged vows. Venus refused to leave the room. It wasn’t her official room, The Beast was still preparing that one.

She’d been nervous indeed. This would be their first night together. Venus was too afraid to face him days prior after their marriage.

“Am I ever to see you?” Venus asked with a timid voice.

The sound of his deep breath made the hairs on her arms stand up.

“Do you wish to?”

Venus glanced back at his black silhouette with fearful eyes before quickly looking away again.

“It might be easier for me…to get accustomed to you, Sir.”

“You see, Venus, that’s one thing I’ll have to control. These things are best done in stages. I intend to win you over, my Venus, but we’ll take it slow…”

Venus tried to calm the tremble of her body.

“I–I don’t see how that’s possible, Sir.”

A dark, menacing chuckle filled the room. Venous shut her eyes, the sound of her breathing rising.

“You’re innocent, Venus,” The Beast said, his voice nearly a growl, “And you have not discovered how I can make you feel.”

“I have. You make me feel fear. And revulsion.” Venus trekked over to the grand window, her doe eyes watching the raging snow storm outside, “Despair, perhaps.”

“None of those are real, Venus”

She forced herself to look at him. “I must tell you, I don’t see how I can ever be your wife in truth. I cannot imagine asking you to—”

“To what? take your maidenhead? To rend you with my dick so that you scream in agonized pleasure?”

The shock drained Venus’ body of the ability to move. Even as the image somehow stirred her.

“Sir—Beast, you cannot say such things to me.” Venus retorted with a shaky voice.

The bite of his words and that monstrous voice had her shivering as if she were standing in the snow nearing frostbite.

“It seems, my bride, that we must stretch your imagination as well. The only thing I may not do is take you by force. Everything else is open to me.” He settled back in a very masculine satisfaction. “If you intend to keep the bargain that saved your father’s life, that is.”

Venus bit her lip. Her father had wept even as he handed her into the Beast’s carriage. Had he realized? Her virginity wouldn’t matter at the end of the week if she was dead. She slowly walked back to the bed and turned her back to him. Her eyes fell solemnly to her lap, and as he drew closer, she couldn’t control her body from shaking with terror.

“Venus.” The Beast leaned forward. She shrank back, but he only laid a gloved hand over hers, “I swear I will not injure you. Your beauty is precious to me. I would not see it marred in any way. I want you to feel safe with me, despite what they speak of me beyond these walls. I will not hurt you. I would never…”

She restlessly moved her hands out from under the black leather of his glove. A mistake, since his hand fell to her knee instead, a heavy weight through the thin cloth. The weight on her small limb awakened something she’d never felt.

“I will wish to see it, however,” the Beast said, gravel in his voice.

Venus’ heart stuttered. “See it?”

“You, in your naked glory. In exchange, I will not touch you just yet.” He leaned back again. “I mention it now so that you might mull the idea over.”

Venus drew in a breath, “I do not think I shall become peaceful with the idea in that space of time.”

“You mistake me, my bride. Peaceful is not how I want you.”

If he’d intended her to think about it, to imagine herself naked and vulnerable in front of his black-cloaked figure, then he succeeded.

“I want you to learn your body…and I intend on guiding you through it…I want you ruined. I want you overcome with desire so intense you can’t form proper sentences…”

The Beast held out his hand towards her and Venus placed her dainty hand in the middle of his massive palm. His thick, dangerous fingers curled around her hand and with the slightest tug, Venus was on her feet and staring up at The Creature that stood at 6’7 with a massive built.

He didn’t drag her along, but neither did the Beast release her hand. The grand house blurred around her as she frantically tried to think of a way out.

“I’m dizzy, Sir…”

“Excellent,” he purred.

“Truly, Husband.” Venus stopped, placed a trembling finger to her temple, and stared steadfastly at the black cloaked chest before her. “I have a pain in my head and—”

“VENUS.”

His tone slammed through her. All stern disapproval and warning.

“Yes?” She barely got the word out.

“You may address me as ‘my lord’, ‘Sir’, or ‘Beast.’ If you call me ‘Husband’ again, I will assume you are ready for me to assume my full husbandly rights. Understood?”

“Yes. My lord.”

“Then let us proceed.”

Venus once again struggled to keep pace with his long strides, until the dark hallway opened into the most glorious atrium.

Woes temporarily forgotten, Venus gazed in wonder at the glass walls and ceiling sparkling in the evening. Moonlight flooded the room from three sides and roses, blood-red roses, filled every corner. Here and there, graceful sculptures peeked between the blooms.

Velvet crimson spills, mounds and waterfalls, the roses tumbled out of urns and thrust up from beds built into the floor. The roses Father had brought surely came from these.

Venus realized she stood alone in the middle of the floor. The Beast had settled into a grand chair, massive as a throne, studded with iron rings in various places. It was perfectly situated so that he might survey the room. And everything in it.

“As you can see, I enjoy beauty. Now, it’s time to enjoy yours,” The Beast relaxed into the chair and his enormous and powerful thighs spread wide, “Venus, I want you to remove that thin gown and place it on that table, right there, “He waved a languid hand towards a table situated against the wall, “You will find a pair of heels there…slip them on.”

Venus eased herself towards the table with timid movement. She stopped before the table and willed herself to calm down. The voice in her head told her to calm down and do as he commanded.

“Venus, the longer you take, the greater the punishment.”

“P–punishment? I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me—”

“And I won’t. Not all punishment warrants violence, Venus,” The Beast leaned forward in the chair, “Have you ever heard of inflicting pain for pleasure? A spanking for instance?”

Venus shuddered.

“Were I you”—he settled back in the chair—“I wouldn’t give away opportunities for punishment. But that’s entirely your choice. You’ve earned one punishment for your hesitation. Proceed with my instructions.”

With trembling fingers, Venus reached up to pull the straps of her thin gown past her shoulders, her back facing him. The Beast, however, did not seem inclined to urge her to move more quickly. His head once again propped on his fist, he watched her from the shadows of his hood.

Venus felt the fabric pool around her feet. She stroked her arm nervously, too afraid to turn around. The Beast, however, made a sound deep within his chest that made her whimper. She startled herself. Venus ran her fingers through her hair, shaking out the formal coils her sisters had twisted in.

“Turn.”

Turn? Venus’ heart skipped a beat.

“Are you hesitating, Venus?”

“I’m…nervous…”

“You need not be…it’s just you and I…now turn.”

His rasp spurred her.

The Beast heaved himself out of the throne and moved toward her. Venus closed her eyes, unable to bear it. He stopped behind her, his presence radiating a heat so intense. She could hear rustling, and then the sound of his gloves hitting the table. Venus’ eyes flicked to the large gloves and then down at her bare feet. The sound of fabric moving gained her attention. She caught a glimpse of his yellow eyes and it rendered her speechless. He picked up the heels and handed them to her from behind.

“Take them. Slip them on. And turn.”

From his tone, she sensed his frustration at her disobedience. Venus accepted the heels; black patent leather pumps, and went to work slipping them on. She stood a few inches taller, but still nothing compared to how tall The Beast is. He returned to his seat and the distance between them gave Venus enough courage to continue. Venus began to turn, her finger twiddling bashfully, when she fully faced him. Her doe eyes sought him out before glancing down at her heeled feet.

She stood there forever it seemed. Frozen while he just stared at her. When he finally spoke, she thought she might whither away.

“Lift your head. You look at me, Venus.”

She stared at him with a flutter of her lashes. Her breath shuttered through her and her heart beat so fast against her chest cavity.

“Come to me…”

Her heels against the floor was so loud it almost drowned out her breathing. To stand before him was a battle. She fought hard to look at him and when his clawed finger ghosted over her exposed skin on her hip she couldn’t contain herself. She moaned. She was exposed and vulnerable to this Beast and his touch made her moan. Was her body betraying her. Blood pulsed through her, pounding in her breasts and pooling down to her groin.

“Mmm…”

He could sense her arousal.

Shoulders back. Your breasts are gorgeous, Venus—so full and round. Thrust them forward. Place your hands behind your back…just like that…”

Venus was aware of her thick nipples hardening beneath his gaze. A tingle crept over her skin and her thighs clenched.

“…I love your nipples. Nice and big. I’m impatient to try some tricks to keep them stiff. By the time I’m done, you’ll be able to do nothing but think of how your nipples feel.”

Venus trembled violently, hot tears suddenly spilling down her cheeks.

“Why do you weep? Turn in a slow circle.”

She complied but didn’t answer the question.

“Venus, I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

“You’re so cruel,” she cried, “treating me like this.”

“All beasts are cruel. It is my nature. And for now I merely admire. Wouldn’t any bridegroom expect to see you so?”

His haunting eyes glided over her body and when it reached her bushy lower lips, a tongue so long slithered out of his mouth and sharp teeth gleamed like a predator to its prey.

“Fuck…you are tempting me, Venus…that body on you…mmm…fucking beautiful…”

She felt a flutter in her belly from his words.

“Turn…bend…”

Venus looked back at him over her shoulder as her back arched forward, bringing her ass within his line of vision. The deep groan of satisfaction that spilled from his lips made her contain herself own sounds of desire. How quickly this Beast could make her feel such dirty thoughts…

“I can’t wait to have you. And I know you feel the same. No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise…”

Venus remained silent.

“As for your punishment, I hadn’t anticipated that you would need correction so soon. But I think it’s best for you to learn quickly, don’t you?”

“I…I don’t want to be punished.”

“You don’t have a say in the matter…I’m your Lord…you do as I say…hear me?”

Venus’ lower lip trembled.

“Sir, please…I don’t want it.” Venus pleaded.

“Ah, but I wish it. And I think you’ll find it’s good for you. You’ve been petted and spoiled. While I intend to pet you, my sweet, you’ll find that I’m most interested in your character. You don’t wish to deny me my few pleasures?”

“No, my lord.”

“I shall decide for you, then. It shall be tonight. You may lower your hands and find your chambers. Return down the hallway and follow the light that guides you.”

Venus didn’t waste time scurrying off and out of sight.

——

Her chambers were beyond grand. Enormous faceted windows looked out over the gardens. Though ringed round by the dense and grasping forest, the grounds looked meticulously manicured, gracefully proportioned. Beautiful. No wonder Father had thought it a sanctuary.

Venus had found the rooms by following a light, indeed. A little will-o’-the-wisp had popped out of the woodwork in the hallway. She followed its pink bobbing path, soothing herself by pulling her hair over her breasts to shield them and holding her hands over the place between her legs. She didn’t dare remove the shoes, however, until she reached her room.

There was no promised gown.

Instead Venus found a short, silk robe lying across the foot of the immense four-poster bed. The fine white silk was so translucent that it hid nothing. After putting it on anyway, since it was meagerly better than being completely nude, she glimpsed herself in the full-length mirror. Her black hair tumbled in coils. Her eyes looked huge in her face, the dark centers edging out the pure hazel. Venus could see her nipples pressing taut against the silk and the deep V at the juncture of her thighs. This is what the Beast had seen.

He’d seen her this way. Venus stroked her hips as she turned every which way, admiring her hourglass shape. The time alone in that room until The Beast called for her gave her a moment to accept that she’d had some attraction towards him. Although marrying a monster hiding deep within enchanted woods wasn’t on her agenda, she wasn’t completely put–off by it. He hadn’t killed her. He actually wanted her. Truly wanted her. And she’d never experienced that.

The innocent girl who’d dressed for her wedding on that haunting morning had disappeared. This girl looked ravished already. In a way, she supposed she had been.

And this was just the beginning.

Venus explored her new room and marveled at the extraordinary detail and how extravagant it was. The wardrobe was filled with all sorts of clothes and shoes and there was a vanity covered with perfumes, oils, jewelry, and makeup. Everything she ever needed. A soft patter at her door made her jump back.

“Miss? Your Lord would like for you to freshen before returning to him.”

It was one of the servants.

“Thank you. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Venus hurried towards her own bathroom, finding the tub already filled. She knew that castle held a magical force. Venus pinned her curls above her head and used a lavender scented soap. She washed away whatever she could, telling herself to relax and embrace her new life as a wife. Her thoughts drifted to sex with him. The sponge against her brown skin paused, the soap suds gliding.

She knew he had to be big down there. How would he feel inside of her. Spreading her. Bottoming out in her…

“Oh, goodness,” Venus placed a hand to her chest.

So much for being brave.

She was scared out of her mind. She wasted time staring at the tap dripping, the water beneath her growing cold. Venus lifted from the bath and grabbed a towel, securing it around her before entering her room. She went to work slathering fragrant lotion on her smooth skin and after letting her hair down, she fluffed it out and turned her gaze onto the silk robe he’d left for her.

No delaying, then, unless she wanted to sit in the dark. And Venus felt sure she didn’t want the Beast to come looking for her.

Suddenly, an invisible force began moving about the room, like a ghost. Venus gasped, eyes wide with fear, the doors to her wardrobe opening and after a moment, fresh stockings and a pair of ribbon garters. Not the ones she’d worn that morning before her wedding—these were sheer red and softer than rain. The crimson ribbons matched the boned scarlet satin corset. Venus could don the stockings herself, but she was dubious about the corset. When she slipped it on, though, invisible fingers tugged the laces into place.

Tightly.

Venus ended up grasping the edge of the tall table with her room to brace herself. When they released her, she saw herself in the full-length mirror, the thatch of glossy dark hair where her thighs met framed by the red stockings. The scarlet corset that fitted down over her hips, cinched her waist tightly and rising to a shelf under her breasts, cupping them as if they were some sort of pastry, her nipples nearly as hard as marble

She looked away. Looked for the gown. Only the red heels awaited, mysteriously transported from the other room.

“He promised me a gown,” Venus muttered to herself. “Perhaps it’s in the other room.”

But when she started toward the bedchamber, the dressing-room door flew closed, even as a chair in front of a vanity mirror slid out invitingly. The shoes slid in front of her. She had to get her nerves in check. She allowed the invisible maids to doll her up further and when they stopped, Venus admired the work they’d done and she gawked at her appearance. She looked like a vixen waiting to get fucked.

Oh goodness.

The pink light from before appeared before her eyes, Venus realizing that the light is what helped her get prepared. She tilted her head at it. How interesting.

He was waiting. She needed to hurry. Before she could leave, a long, flowing red gown with tight gloves attached levitated towards her. Venus gave the pink glow one final look before placing the red gown around her body and leaving the room.

——

Two timid knocks and his booming voice commanded her to enter. Venus crossed the threshold into what looked like a den. The Beast awaited her in his parlor. He stood before a roaring fire, wearing a black satin cloak, the folds of the hood, as always, deeply shadowing his face.

“Venus, you look lovely tonight. How fare you? Are your chambers suitable?”

A bit taken aback by his solicitous tone, Venus paused. “My chambers are more than suitable. I… Thank you for thinking of my wishes.”

The Beast inclined his head. “Anything you wish for, just ask.”

Venus held up her brocade-confined hands. “I’d like a proper gown.”

He chuckled. “In this, you will indulge me. That gown suits my purposes.”

“It will make it most difficult for me to comply, my lord.”

“I shall be delighted to assist you. Shall we? Unless you’d prefer a glass of wine before we go to bed?”

She shook her head and slipped her muffled hand through his arm.

“The gown suits you.”

Venus felt sure he studied her breasts. She glanced down and saw what she had thought a modest drape of satin now rode low over her pushed-up breasts. The cloth barely clung to her nipples, which stood out, turgid and sensitive.

“Come, don’t be afraid. We will only do as you wish tonight. But know this…” The Beast tilted her chin up at him, “You will be begging for more of me.”

Venus swallowed spit. The Beast guided her past the parlor and into a magnificent room. The room she would be sharing with him. The room she would be curled up in his arms. Having sex with him…kissing him…

The Beast picked Venus up bridal–style, and sat her on the bed. She looked up at him, watching with unwavering eyes as he removed his cloak. Her eyes fell upon a rather handsome face. Although he was a Beast, it was undeniable how attractive he is. She had never seen paintings of him in his human form, but she knew in her mind that he was a sight to behold.

“I want you to turn onto your stomach…”

Venus’ gaze dropped down to the beast removing a belt from his waist. He still had the body of a man covered in fur. His large hands moved fluently and Venus was stuck in a trance.

“Venus��what did I just say?”

She turned, the image of his features etched into her brain.

The bed dipped and his imposing frame settled behind her on his knees. He lifted her into an arched position, Venus gasping. His fingers raised the fabric of the gown over her waist, exposing her naked ass and pussy from behind. Venus felt heat creeping over her skin. He growled like the wild beast he is with curved horns, sharp teeth, and vicious eyes. But his lips…so plump…and his tongue so long…

Whack!

“My Lord!”

Whack! Whack! Whack!

Venus tried to stop him from spanking her but he pinned her wrists behind her back tightly with his free hand.

“Keep still and take this punishment, Venus. I have to teach you now…before I give you pleasure,” he popped her on the ass again, “Don’t anger me, baby…”

Venus’ eyes brimmed with tears. She begged and pleaded for him to stop.

“Please, please, Sir, I won’t ever disobey you again! I promise! I’ll be a good wife! I’ll listen!”

The Beast stopped. The sting of his strong hand remained and it burned so good that her clit pulsated. She was turned on and so deeply aroused. Who knew that spanking would make her feel this way? But she wasn’t prepared for the pain of it. It stung tremendously.

“I am happy that you see reason, Venus. Although I enjoyed the feel of this hefty ass against my palm…you’ve learned your lesson…for now…”

He rubbed her skin with tentative strokes. Venus’ eyes rolled shut from the soft grazing. The Beast chuckled at the dazed look on her beautiful face.

“You look so gorgeous like this, Venus…uninhibited…aroused…I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself. Tell me how you’re feeling…be honest with me…I won’t bite…”

Venus locked her glossy lips.

“I…I like it.” She admitted.

“Mmm…I’m very glad to hear that…”

His lips peppered kisses to her ass and Venous let out an angelic moan.

“My Venus…I crave you badly…so fucking much…”

The Beast breathed in her scent from behind. Venus shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Talk to me, love…tell me what you would like from me tonight…”

Venus knew that it would take time to warm her up. She was too afraid to go all the way tonight, but she did want to experience pleasure. She want The Beast to give her a taste of what it’s like to cum on his tongue. The images replaying in her mind of his long tongue made her wonder what it would be like to feel it between her thighs.

“Venus?”

“I’m sorry, Sir…I…I want you to make me cum…with your tongue….”

She spoke those words so softly, but The Beast caught on to every word. The girth of his enormous dick weakened the seam of his pants. He could faintly hear it rip. She was smart to request cunnilingus. The Beast would need a full day to break her in and Venus would need a full day to recover. They had time. And he would try to be patient, even though the monster within him wanted to break free.

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger #spooky szn

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starryevermore · 1 year ago

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the house of snow (1) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board | ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: your parents are convinced that you will marry the king by the end of the social season. and so, too, it seems does coriolanus snow.

word count: 2,764

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: no use of y/n, you cannot stand coryo, not proofread

Coriolanus Snow’s rise to the throne was something you never expected to come to fruition. When you were younger, you remembered your peers talking about how Snow wanted to one day rule Panem. At the time, you thought it was just another wild dream of a child. Something a child would say when an adult asks what they wish to be when they grow up. “A pirate!” one might exclaim. Or, perhaps, “A painter!” The sort of thing that a sensible parent would shrug off and not dedicate anymore thought to. The Snow family, as it turned out, was not particularly sensible.

When the Former King Ravinstill died without warning, the throne was left vacant. Everyone knew that the old man had little life left in him. Yet, despite his age, he had a tendency to power through. No one thought he would have lived as long as he did, but he had. So, the Electors had not yet begun considering his replacement. No one had been prepared enough to seek candidacy. No one, except Coriolanus Snow. A few other eligible persons put forth their names, but no one garnered support quite like the young man. From a prominent family, the son of a general, had served briefly himself, intelligent, and had the financial backing of the Plinth family? There was no version of history where Snow could lose.

Within weeks of Ravinstill’s death, Snow was crowned King.

You did not care for politics, so you knew little of his reign. But your father seemed pleased, talking often and loudly about how the young Snow would restore Panem to its former glory. You weren’t so sure of that. Though you did not interact with him often in your younger years, you remembered Snow as someone who was self-serving. Who would pretend to care if only it could further his own interests. He very well might let all of Panem burn if it meant he could gain from it. But your father was quite pleased with Snow as King and, when word began to spread that Snow would be seeking a bride this next social season, your father pushed hard for you to woo the King.

“If you wish to serve your family well, my little dove, you will convince the King to marry you,” your father told you the moment he heard the news.

You all but scoffed. “I hardly think I am the sort of woman he wishes to marry. A man like him would want someone meek, someone who would not challenge his authority. We hardly ever agreed on the schoolyard, and for that reason, he never considered me a friend. How could he ever see me as a wife?”

Your father’s eyes narrowed at you. “It is your responsibility, then, to make yourself small so that he may choose you.”

“I would rather die than sacrifice my ideals, Papa,” you said. “Why can I not vie for any other’s attention? I know Lord Plinth quite well. I’ve always enjoyed his company. It would be easy to win his heart and have our family set for life. Certainly easier than winning over the King.”

He sneered, “The only thing the Plinth family is good for is their money. I want to be respected. We would be little more than social pariahs if you wed the Plinth boy.”

“I shall not marry the King—”

Your mother stepped in before you could say something you might come to regret. She placed a hand on your arm, directing your attention to her. “Never mind that now. There is still time before the season begins for minds to be changed.”

“I shall not change my mind, Mama.”

She looked over at your father, who was the perfect picture of irate. She looked back to you. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. Let us go clear our minds, yes? We should go order new gowns at the modiste before everyone else floods her with demands.”

“You cannot distract me with fashion.”

“But you would do well to pretend that I have.”

Your efforts to convince your parents that you would not, under any circumstance whatsoever, marry Coriolanus Snow did not do anything for you. Despite your best efforts, you now stood in the palace for the King’s Ball, wearing the most beautiful powder blue gown fresh from the modiste, trying and failing to hide from your mother, so that you might delay her forcing you onto Snow. For now, though, she had been distracted by a conversation with Lady Dovecote about…whatever mothers talked about. Surely some scheme that would end with either you or Clemensia as Snow’s betrothed. You rolled your eyes at the thought.

A familiar voice said your name. When you turned, you were greeted by the sight of Sejanus Plinth, holding two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to you, remarking, “I never knew you to be one to hide from the crowd.”

“I shall hide from the crowd when my mama is convinced I shall become Queen by the end of the season.”

“Ah.” Sejanus took a drink and laughed. “Strange, isn’t it? Seeing everyone we grew up with vying for Coryo’s attention.”

Coryo? Oh, yes. That was the nickname those close to Snow would call him. You had forgotten that the two were friends. Hmm, perhaps you could use that information the next time your parents try to force a connection with Snow. Something about how getting close to his friend might make him interested in you. “That it is. It seems as though everyone has lost their minds just for a glimpse of the crown.”

Sejanus laughed again. Then he looked at you a little more seriously, and said, “If I am honest, I am surprised you are not among those fighting for Coryo’s attention.”

Your brows pinched together. “You think I am interested in climbing the social ladder? Lord Plinth, you should know me well enough that I care more for a love match than gaining a title.”

“No, no. That is not what I meant. I remember in school that you and Coryo always had a sort of connection. Truthfully, I thought one of you might have acted on it sooner when you entered society.”

“The only connection we had was that of hatred. We despised each other.”

Sejanus shook his head, his curls bouncing. “I do not think that was true for Coryo. He liked that you challenged him. He has never been the sort of person who liked people who switch their position when the tide seems to turn. He likes people who are firm in their convictions.”

You laughed. “He’s told you this?”

“Not in so many words. But you have to wonder why he always sought you out.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he is crueler than we all think.”

Sejanus moved to protest, but another beat him to it. “Or perhaps you judge without truly knowing.”

You froze. Oh, how you had hoped that you could have avoided him tonight! Damn Sejanus and his friendship with Snow. So much for him being your safe haven during these balls. You might as well have lit a beacon leading straight to you. Alas, you did not want Snow to see the hatred you had brewing for him. Even if you did not like the man, you would be a social pariah if you made such feelings known to him. So, you painted on a smile as you turned to look at Snow. “Or perhaps I made an educated guess supported by the evidence of past interactions.”

Snow snorted, turning his gaze to Sejanus. “Always so quick with a response, she is.”

Sejanus glanced at you, a knowing look in his eyes. If you were a mindreader, you could imagine him gloating in his mind about how he was right, that this was a sign that Snow cared for you in some way. But you only knew it to be yet another indicator that you and Snow could never, ever, get along. “Her wit has never dulled.”

“Should we see, then, if her dance skills are still equally sharp?”

Sejanus looked at you again, a brilliant smile on his face. Oh, how you wished to wipe that look off. This was not proof of anything. This did not prove his point. “I could not think of anything better.”

Damn you, Sejanus Plinth. Damn you.

Snow held his arm out for you to take. You stared at it, not moving. “In order to dance with a lady, you must ask her. I do not recall you asking me anything.”

Snow glanced just beyond you. When you turned your head to follow his gaze, you saw your mother and Lady Dovecote watching the interaction carefully. As you looked back at Snow, he said, “Your mother would be disappointed if you did not dance with me.”

“It is amazing you became King when you are so lacking in manners.” But you knew your mother—the entirety of the ton, perhaps—would consider you insane to turn the King down so openly. So you took his arm and let him lead you onto the dance floor.

He snorted. “You are the only person who speaks so freely to me.”

“Ah, so this is one last dance before my execution? How kind. Perhaps I was wrong about your cruelty.”

“There is much you are wrong about,” Snow said. You had reached the dance floor. The crowd parted around you, allowing you and Snow to take the middle of the floor. You faced him, allowing his hand to fall to you waist. You placed one hand on his shoulder, and let him take the other in his free hand. “It would be far too much of a shame to take your life.”

“Such a kind and gentle king.”

“Only for those who deserve it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother miming for you to smile. You fought the urge to sneer instead. Even if you would rather do anything else than be courted by Coriolanus Snow, acting out would not do you any favors. If you had any hope in finding a love match, you had to at least be cordial to him. So you smiled as prettily as you could. But you couldn’t help yourself from saying, “Then perhaps you should go see a physician. You seem to have lost your mind.”

To your surprise, Snow laughed. The sound almost scared you. When was the last time you heard Snow laugh? An actual laugh, at that. None of his snorts of derision or half-hearted chuckles when he was trying to charm someone. Had you ever heard him laugh before? You tried to wrack your brain, but you could not recall anything. In school, he had always been so serious—focused more on using the tools available to him to climb the social ladder rather than being a kid like everyone else. Though, you supposed, Snow was a far cry from everyone else.

The music began to play, and Snow spun you around the dance floor. As you turned, you locked eyes with Sejanus. He wore a large grin on his face, seemingly sure that you and Snow were making nice. Why else would he have laughed at something you said? You wished you could yell out to Sejanus, tell him that he was dead wrong.

“What is it that people say? Something about love driving people mad?”

This time, you did roll your eyes. “Oh, come off it. You and I both know perfectly well that you do not care for me. I hardly understand why you’re even entertaining this nonsense, if for no other reason than to torture me.”

Snow considered you. After a long moment of silence, he said, “I seek a bride who will produce me an heir. There are few women here who meet my standards. A woman of good breeding, from a respectable family, and intelligent enough to keep up with me. Someone who will be a good Queen and a good mother.”

“Someone that you can control.” You scoff. “You truly must see a physician, Your Majesty, if you think that I will fall in line with whatever you ask of me.”

His lips curled into a grin. Your stomach churned. “Not yet.”

The next morning, your mother promptly reported that you had danced with Coriolanus Snow not once, not twice, but three times to your father. To say he had been pleased was something of an understatement. He was certain that Snow would soon be reaching out to discuss a proposal. It did not matter how much you tried to downplay the situation—explain that he was only dancing with you for some other reason than him wishing to marry you. Your parents minds were made up. By the end of the season, you were to be Queen of Panem.

“It’s just the nerves,” your mother dismissed as you sat in the drawing room, waiting for any suitor to call on you. “You will be more than confident once you are wed.”

You ground your teeth together. “I do not wish to marry Coriolanus Snow. I would marry anyone else. I would let you or Papa pick anyone else in the ton and I would not let out a single complaint. I cannot marry that man.”

Something just beyond you caught your mother’s attention. Your father, you supposed. “You should not say such things—” she began to say. Of course. Of course she would say that.

“Why not? It is true. I would be miserable with him. I would rather die than be his bride, bear his children. Frankly, forcing me to marry him may as well be a death sentence.”

“Dear, you do not truly mean that—”

“And you must not know me at all if you think I am not being completely, and utterly, truthful right now. Coriolanus Snow is the last man I would ever wish to marry.”

Your mother leaned in close to you, hissing, “Stop talking right now, young lady.”

A frown settled on your face. Why was she so bothered about you speaking so freely? There was no one in the room but you, her, and a maid. Perhaps she was concerned about the maid spreading gossip with other maids and that slowly enveloping the ton. It wasn’t a non-possibility, to be sure. But why was she acting so…scandalized by your words?

Unless…

You turned your head toward the entrance of the room. There should Coriolanus Snow, dressed in a dark red suit, holding a bouquet of white roses. Your mouth went dry. Oh, why does he keep showing up when you least expect it? “The butler typically announces when a guest has arrived,” you said.

You couldn’t read his face. A part of you wondered if you had offended him. You didn’t particularly care about offending him, but you also knew that such an act could have dire consequences on you marrying anyone else. “He was going to, but I wanted my arrival to be a surprise.” He took a step closer to you, holding out the roses. “I just had these freshly picked from my garden.”

A part of you wanted to smack the roses out of his hands, but you had already embarrassed your mother enough in front of Snow. You took the roses, yet couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “I cannot believe a man like you could grow something so beautiful.”

Your mother let out a loud—obviously fake—laugh. “Oh, isn’t she just funny? She always says the silliest things.”

Snow chuckled. He smiled at your mother—the sort of smile that your stomach twist into knots. Like he knew something no one else did, and he was reveling in that. “It is one of her more…charming traits.” He turned his attention back to you. “As lovely as this is, I came to ask if you would like to promenade with me in the square.”

Oh, Snow. Why was he so good at backing you into corners? You took a breath and passed the bouquet to the maid so she could put them in a vase. “That would be nothing short of a delight.”

He held out his arm for you to take. You slipped your hand around his bicep, your nails digging in. If he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. Instead, he leaned down so that you could only hear him whisper, “It seems like you fall in line much easier than you would like to believe.”

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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iid-smile · 2 months ago

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★ — HOWL

for all your body and all of your lovings

i thought that you promised me your love 'til your grave?

content — fushiguro toji x gn!reader, ANGST, the reader dies, hints at marriage, yeah the storyline is kinda unclear because i just wanted some angst

wc — 0.5k

★ event masterlist

a/n — cannot find who this was dedicated to for the LIFE of me send help

"he looks nothing like me." toji dismisses, eyes glued to the news playing on the tv which he really wasn't listening to. when you told him you had an 'early christmas present', what he wasn't expecting was some random dog to get shoved in his face. he didn't consent to this. at all.

"first of all, she looks a lot like you." you declare, once again coddling the poor mutt with too much affection. it's growing more and more difficult to speak with her licking all over your face, seemingly overwhelmed with joy after being adopted. "second of all, you're in need of a companion. i can't always be around for you, you know?"

the playful rottweiler puppy gazes intently at him, her big, expressive eyes shining with anticipation. a single thought races through her mind: play. the wagging of her tiny tail and the excitement in her stance convey her eagerness, as she bounces lightly on her paws as best as she can with the confinement of your grip, ready for any playful action he might offer.

his lips purse into a pout, clearly not digging your idea. your eyebrows furrow, but you remain hopeful, shuffling closer to his side. "c'mon, you'll learn to love her! you'll be best buddies in no time." sure she will, over his dead body.

but why does this always happen to him?

a hollow chill passes through his body as he stands before your grave. with each breath, he feels only the gentle caress of the cold wind, swirling around him like whispers of sorrow. his gaze is locked on the weathered stone, its surface slick and damp with rain, each droplet dripping down as if the heavens weep alongside him. a single tear escapes his eye, mingling with the raindrops. once again, he has lost someone he loved.

crouching to meet the ground, he positions himself at your level, his fingers trembling as they trace your name etched into the cold granite. he reads the letters again and again, each syllable a sign of your absence. how many times can he mumble apologies? how many opportunities slipped through his fingers, moments when he might have intervened, might have changed the outcome?

not enough. nothing could have saved you; not even him. his fingertips graze the smooth, rounded top of the gravestone, a faint wish burning within him—he longs to brush his hand across your head the way he used to, to feel the warmth of your presence against his palm.

and now, she is all that remains. the dog lays by your side, a solemn expression spread across her usually elated features. "come on, girl," he whistles, the sound barely rising above the patter of rain. he wishes he would never have to face his back to you, yet he did, his companion trailing behind him at an equally slow pace.

his hands are shoved into his pockets, fingers curling around the cool metal of the ring you once wore, its presence a haunting reminder of you. each touch feels like a stab to his heart, the weight of grief weighing down on him.

his words echo softly, a whispered confession that carries no hope of being heard. perhaps, somewhere beyond his sight, you might sense his longing—a hushed plea for you to return to him, to close the endless distance between the two of you. but the bitter truth lingers in the air; no miracle will restore what has been taken from him

"it's only you and me now."

#❆ | 360 bpm #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji imagines #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji angst #toji x you

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emeritusemeritus · 1 year ago

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No Good Deed. [George Weasley x Reader]

Title: No Good Deed. Part 1.

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. Tags will be updated with each chapter.

"How dare they! It's all I have left of him! I've already lost him once and now I have to lose him all over again?!"

You'd never seen George so angry as he stepped into the office, kicking a cardboard restore box under the table that stored this quarter's paperwork in sheer frustration. He tugged off his tie and ran his fingers through his flame red hair, trying to calm himself, his face downcast despite his anger. You silently stood in the doorway of the office, just observing him, not quite knowing what to say or how to comfort him after what had happened earlier that day in the meeting you'd both attended.

"Mr Weasley, there is one final notion on the mandate which must be discussed," the balding, sour-faced man says from the other side of the table, briefly looking up from his typed paperwork as he strains his neck once again, a habit you'd noticed him doing frequently during your hour long meeting which was thankfully coming to a close.

You'd accompanied George to a meeting with his investors in London, notetaking for him and assisting him with the figures that the investors required to see periodically throughout the year as per their contract. You'd always had an affinity for bookkeeping and had found your skills utilised upon employment at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes just after you left Hogwarts, immediately taken onboard by your childhood best friends Fred and George Weasley.

After Fred's death and the end of the war, funds had been low due to the long store closure despite their best efforts at an owl postage service and once George was ready to reopen the shop, he had needed to take on investors in order to get the money to replenish products and reopen the store, giving them shares in the company and the overall profits. Fortunately, the business had immediately boomed once again when the store reopened, only increasing in popularity and therefore profit when Hogwarts reopened and Diagon Alley bloomed with old and new shops opening seemingly every day. The investors were largely silent, providing money without any input to the business, proud to be associated with the more popular store in Diagon Alley, at least until today.

"It has come to our attention that you are providing services under a false pretence which we must discuss," another man says, much harder in his expression.

Your eyes flick to George who looks rightly offended and confused at the vague notion, seeing him shift in his seat somewhat uncomfortably.

"As there are no longer two of you, the name 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' is redundant, incorrect and therefore unmarketable as it stands. We propose that changes must be made to change the name to 'Weasley's', moving the apostrophe so that it denotes the true ownership. Mr Weasley, you have 30 days to make the necessary change or else our shares will be pulled and we will no longer be investing in your business."

The meeting had come to an abrupt end as the investors exited, leaving you with a seething George who had surprisingly held it together until you both apparated to the outside of the shop. You'd struggled to keep up with George as he bounded up the stairs towards the office, completely ignoring Ron and a few regular customers who had greeted him. You shot them apologetic smiles, wordlessly trying to excuse his uncharacteristic behaviour as you followed him to the office.

He threw down his jacket onto your chair as you entered behind him and immediately began tugging at his tie in frustration.

"I can't change the name! It was always me and Fred, I've already lost him once I can't lose him again, not like this," his tone was no longer filled with anger or rage but rather deep sadness and heartbreak at the thought. You closed your eyes for a moment, unable to watch any longer as his words hit you like a freight train, the pain overwhelming you not only at the mention of Fred but of George's evident sadness.

You hear him throw himself down into his chair and you open your eyes again to see him looking completely defeated as he clearly plays out his options in his mind to prevent this from happening.

"Ginny's about to become a Potter, Bill and Charlie aren't in the bloody country, Percy's… well, Percy and Ron can't join in as a co-owner, the deeds are in mine and Fred's name. Six, well, five siblings and not one of them can help. Unless there's a way of bringing Fred back through the bloody veil, which I've exhausted all options in my bloody mind believe me, then I'm fucked. Everything Fred and I built is ruined."

You watch as his long fingers run over his face, rubbing his eyes which you suspect are brimming with unshed tears judging by his emotion filled voice.

Your words flew out of you before you could even comprehend what you were saying, surprising even yourself for a moment.

"I'll marry you."

George looks utterly astounded by your words as his eyes shoot up to yours, confusion evident over every single one of his features as your words sink in.

"Eh?" His brief reply conveys every inch of perplexity that his features show and at any other time the look on his face would have made you double over with laughter.

"Angel, I don't think now's the time," he says with a gentle frown, clearly treading carefully with his words despite his confusion. You fight to get the words out to explain yourself, knowing that somewhere before your unexpected outburst there was solid reasoning in your mind.

"You need another Weasley and the only way you can override the shared deed is by entitlement, like by marriage," you say, moving forward to stand in front of him before taking a seat on his wooden desk. Your leg brushes against his as you hop up and you don't miss how his eyes briefly flicker to the point where your legs touched just for a second.

"I've seen it with my parents, when my mum and dad divorced she was entitled to the interest of his business as a matrimonial asset. We'd have to check if there's a time limit on that but with Fred gone, it's the only way you'd be able to get another shareholder in his place."

You were trying to keep your explanation simple, pulling from your firsthand experience in similar matters but as you fought to explain yourself, you found yourself rambling a little under George's intense gaze.

"If we got married you wouldn't have to change the name, I'd take your name and we'd both be Weasley by law, cancelling out their demands. You'd have to put me on the business documents but we could draw up some sort of contract that doesn't actually entitle me to any money or profit from the business, but they don't need to know that."

Your words hang in the air for a few moments, tense silence lingering between you as your words replay over and over in your mind, wondering if you'd gone too far and made things too awkward.

"I couldn't ask you to do that," George says quietly, averting his eyes.

"Georgie I'd do it for you without a second thought, it might be the only way you could keep the business exactly as it is," you say, reaching out to touch his shoulder, trying to urge him to listen to you.

He fell silent again for a few more tense moments and you could see the conflict on his face as he considered his options, allowing your proposal to sink in. He's quiet again when he replies and if anything he looks a little timid as he speaks.

"But you and Fred," he weakly argues, his words making your stomach lurch painfully. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. You hadn't considered this part, the mental and emotional conflict of your proposal. You and Fred had been something throughout your later school years and a little while after, but had never wanted to make anything official, a secret shared between you both that never allowed you to commit to each other.

"Are in the past," you unwillingly admit with a sad sigh, "Fred's gone, it's taken me a really long time to mostly accept it, but if this means keeping his memory alive just as it is then I'd do anything, for him and for you."

Things were a little awkward for a couple of days following your outburst and each time you saw or crossed paths with George you inwardly cringed. You'd shut yourself in the office most of the time, trying only to see him before store opening and packing up and rushing off just before close, ensuring you wouldn't have to spend any prolonged time together.

"I know you're avoiding me," A familiar voice behind you says as you gather your bag and mug off the desk just before the end of the day, 3 days after your outburst. You turn slowly and see him leaning on the door frame with a little knowing smirk on his face, though his eyes look sad. You bite your lip, knowing you'd been caught out and flick your eyes to your bag, to the clock on the wall and then back to George, not really knowing how to respond.

"It's okay, I understand," he says, taking a slow step into the office, "but there's no need to feel awkward, not with me, I don't take it personally that you regret offering."

"I don't regret it," you reply quickly with a frown, effectively cutting him off. Your words make his eyebrows shoot you a little in surprise, or maybe it was the conviction in your voice that surprised him. "I've been avoiding you because it's been painfully awkward to offer yourself like that and be rejected."

"I didn't reject you," he replies quickly but with a gentle tone, now cutting you off. Your eyes widen a little at the quickness of the reply and you can't help but look into his eyes, seeing his tongue poke out and wet his lip as he looks nervously back at you.

You both look at each other for a moment as a little tense silence falls and you both breathe out a chuckle at the awkwardness in the room.

"So to make it clear, I could still marry you?" He asks, walking forwards towards you.

"I think the agreement was that I'd marry you," you teased, smirk tugging at your lips which earned you a roll of his eyes. "But yes," you said, now with a more serious and honest tone. "My offer to get married is still very much open, for the sake of the business."

He stands before you and you crane your neck upwards towards his familiar height and there's an intimacy that passes between you both that had never existed before as you look at each other, communicating only with your eyes.

"Then I accept your proposal," George says, taking your hand mockingly and you gasp at him, pulling your hand away to smack his arm lightly.

"I didn't propose to you!"

"That's not what I'm going to tell our grandkids," he jokes, pulling you into a hug. You can't deny that even though his words were mocking, your tummy did a little nervous and excited flip at his words.

"Thank you, so much," he says as you pull apart, completely serious as he looks at you with such intensity if makes your knees a little weak. "This means so much to me."

"And me."

It was Saturday night and you'd invited George around to your flat after work, to talk over your agreement. You'd opened a bottle of wine and ordered a takeaway, a benefit of living in muggle London that you loved, and started writing out some plans to your agreement as you both sat on the sofa beside eachother, the coffee table littered with notebooks and paper.

"We should move in together, make it believable," George says, taking a sip of his wine. You look at him in surprise, not having expected those words to fall from his lips.

"Who are we trying to convince?" You ask, a little confused at how deep this was going.

"Oh yeah, right," he says, looking away, taking another sip of wine. You immediately felt a little bad seeing his apparent negative reaction to your words and considered his idea for a moment, thinking of the implications.

"Unless the investors ask for character references," you said, picking up your own glass. "I suppose it's possible, we'd have to tell your family wouldn't we."

George nods slowly, on the same wavelength as you.

"Would your family be able to lie if they were questioned?" You ask, looking up at George.

George snorts into his glass and shakes his head in reply, "About hiding Harry, yeah, about this? No way."

"Then we'll have to convince your family that we're actually married," you say, feeling a little uneasy at the thought of lying to the family you cared very deeply for. George made a vague noise of agreement and placed his empty glass down onto the coaster on the coffee table, smoothing the creases in his trousers out with his long fingers.

"How long would we have to be married for?" George asks with a frown and you can't help but feel a little stab in your chest at his words, as silly as it was.

"Oh I don't know, until the investors drop the demand? Or maybe get new investors?" You ask, placing a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen into your face. George watches your every move and you can't help but stare back at him, seeing him paying close attention to you.

"How far away would we be from being able to do away with the investors? Business is good right, maybe I could cash in their shares and become sole owner," he says, flicking his eyes down to your work bag by the door, knowing that there's his accounting documents in there.

"Good idea," you say, placing down your glass and moving over to reach for your bag. You begin calculating the investors shares against the profits of the business and try and work out a timeline for how long it would take for George to earn the money to buy out the investors, assuming business stayed as good as it was now.

"Looks like two years, based on the projections," you say, placing down your pen. "If business stays at the rate it is, you'd be clear from all investors in just under two years."

"Is that, is that okay with you?" George says, looking up into your eyes, his voice suddenly quieter and a little more timid.

You smile at him and nod in reply, genuinely okay with that. "What about you?"

"Of course," he smiles, chuckling to himself a little as he picks at the tweed of his trousers, "you're doing me the biggest favour imaginable, I have the easy deal."

"You have to be married to me, I'd say that's not easy," you tease, picking up your glass and drinking the last sip of wine left.

"I don't know, I can think of many worse things than being married to you," he says with a grin, reaching out to refill both of your glasses. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest as you bite back a smile.

"I have to admit," George says, handing you back your glass, "I feel as if I'm treading on Fred's toes a little, he'd probably be conspiring to turn my eyebrows purple if he knew I was stealing his woman, that or he'd shave them off whilst I slept," he says with a laugh. You chuckle, picturing the scene in your mind but it doesn't stop the little pang of sadness running through you. You wanted to tell George the whole truth but you couldn't, especially not now and so you simply allowed yourself to laugh and took another sip of wine.

"He'd understand," you say, perhaps a little quietly as you try to tell yourself that it was the truth, trying to justify your actions in your mind. George makes a sound of agreement and just as his glass reaches his lips, the buzzer rings out alerting you that the food had arrived.

"So, we have to convince your family that we're getting married, without dating beforehand?" You say, both of you still chatting as you eat your Chinese food. At this point you were feeling a little buzzed from the wine and everything felt a little easier to get out, the hesitation and trepidation of your words no longer bothering you.

"Good point, though we've always been really close so I don't think they'd think it was too out of the ordinary," George says, taking a huge bite of fried rice. "Did anyone know about you and Fred?"

"I don't think so," you replied, thinking of all the time you'd spent at the Burrow and of each family member, "I think Ginny had her suspicions but she never asked me about it. Thank god you were identical, we could always lie and say it was you if anyone did notice something," you chuckled, earning an enthusiastic laugh from George.

"How do we explain the divorce though?" You asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence, your thoughts drifting into all possible outcomes. "I don't want to lose your family because I become your horrible ex-wife," you say, feeling sad about the potential of that.

"You'd never be horrible, not to me and not to them," George says, reaching out to touch your hand. "We could always say we were just better off as friends? That marriage was too constricting for both of us? That way no ones to blame."

"Yeah that could work," you say, feeling a weird sense of sadness at the concept of divorcing George.

"On a serious note though," he says, temporarily placing down his cutlery as he looks at you, his eyes staring intensely into yours. "If you don't want to do this, I completely understand. It's asking too much of you and I'm very aware of that. It would mean no open dating or seeing anyone else until everything was over," he says carefully. You hadn't really considered that but it was a price you were willing to pay. The fact that George had said no open dating had made you feel a little off, knowing he intended to still date even though you were married, which of course was normal in the circumstances but it still made you feel a little funny.

"You'd still want to date?" You asked, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them, immediately mentally cursing the wine you'd drank that had apparently released your filter.

"Merlin no," he says with a little self deprecating chuckle, "I meant for you."

"I don't want to," you said, perhaps a little too quickly as it earned you a confused flicker of a look from George. "I mean, everyone would think I was cheating on you and I couldn't do that, not to you."

He seems to understand as he nods his head, once again picking up his fork and loading it up with the food.

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it," he says, with a determination in his voice that seemed to settle your anxious thoughts. "So, I suppose we really should move in together."

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#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #george weasley masterlist #George Weasley #George Weasley x you #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley smut

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bijoutarot · 2 months ago

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Reasons They Can’t Let Go ✨🦋

Pick An Image

Image 1

Image 1 your person has it all with you. The lifestyle, the stability, the possibility of a loving home filled with comfort and vibes. What they did not anticipate was the work required to keep you. They thought this connection would be like all the others in the past. They are used to having a partner who is passive and allows them to be a doormat. With you it’s TOTALLY different and that is one of the main reasons why they won’t let you go. You are firm because of your confidence and you have values and morals that you take very seriously. This person loves and respects you. They are willing to put in the work required to have a healthy relationship.

Image 2

Image 2 it seems like your person has a lot of drama going on in their love life. This person has been through a failed relationship/marriage where there are still a couple of loose ends. The love has sizzled out but there are commitments or businesses that are binding them together longer than they are to be at this time. Your person describes this failed connection as “complicated.” They have been in casual situationships that were lackluster until you came into the picture. You brought a different energy that restored their faith in love. They cannot walk away from you easily even if it involves complicating their already complicated life further. You are worth it because with you there is a sense of mystery. You stimulate their MIND AND BODY.

Image 3

Image 3 your person has been used to getting let down a lot throughout their lives. Whether it was milestones or celebrations they never had anyone to count on to “show up” for them. You have proven to be someone that not only they can depend on but someone they want to show off in public spaces. With you they feel like they are in a new era in their life. They feel like they have won and you are their trophy, their most prized possession. They cannot walk away from you because you have restored their pride. They want everyone to see their diamond 💎✨. You make them stand out in public spaces because of your charisma, intelligence, and your fun personality.

Image 4

Image 4 this person is a self sabotaging track star. In the past they would look for silly reasons to ghost people they were talking to whether it’s for small things like the way that they laugh or bigger reasons like living situations. It seems like this person has been keeping you close until their financial situation improved and it has. They look at you as something to work for. You are effortlessly attractive and they feel like you are out of their league. They have been eyeing you for a long time. They worked hard to save their money and manage their finances better to level up. They can’t let go because of the time and energy they invested in impressing you. They see you as the prize.

Which images resonates? 💕

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bookshelf-in-progress · 4 months ago

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Stolen Moments: A Fairy Tale

A spur-of-the-moment story for @inklings-challenge

The princess steps into the center of a whirling masquerade. She is resplendent in green as the Queen of May. A man slips through the crowd and stands before her, dressed all in brown as the Autumn King. He bows with a flourish, silently asking for a dance.

She stands like stone. “You should not be here,” she says.

“Can I not dance with my wife?”

He reaches for her hand. She pulls it away. “I have no husband.”

“In this place, no. Yet I remember otherwise,” he says. “And so do you.”

She turns on her heel and strides away. He follows, quick as ever. The dancers part around them like water. She scowls. He was always too clever for her, always too quick. Even a world of her making bends to accommodate him.

“Do you know what I’ve done to find you?” he asks. “The countries I’ve crossed? The mountains I’ve climbed? I’ve fought gryphons and giants. Searched for treasures lost since the invention of time. Flown to the moon and tunneled to the center of the earth.”

“I’m sure you enjoyed yourself immensely.”

“I bargained with the four winds, gave up my shadow, traded three days of my life just to have this moment with you.”

“I am sorry you wasted your time,” she says. “Do what you will, you cannot take me from here.”

“No,” he agrees. “You are trapped here by your own will, and only by your will can you escape.”

She chose this day well when she arranged her escape. The grandest ball the Mountain King ever held, the day of her sixteenth birthday. Long before she ever met that too-curious trickster who stole away her heart with cheap promises. Here there is music, beauty, bounty, every pleasure she can imagine. She will gladly live in this day forever if it means freedom from her ties to him.

“You think you can persuade me,” she sneers.

He laughs. “No one in the twelve worlds can do that.”

“You think you can steal me.”

Even behind his mask, she can see his gaze darken. She has offended him. “I will not steal a wife.”

“What do you call our wedding day?”

“You chose me.”

“Do you call it choosing, when you hid your true face behind so many lies?”

“You had your own secrets.”

“Do you blame me for hiding them?”

“No,” he says.

She stops. Of all the things she imagined him saying, this was not one of them.

“No,” he says again. “You were right to keep your secrets. I was wrong to seek them out.”

She turns to look at him. He removes his mask, revealing his deceptively young face. His eyes, once blue, have turned greenish-gray. His face has three jagged scars.

“You hid from me,” he said. “As I hid from you. I should have been patient--proved that you could trust me. Instead, I forced my way into your secrets and destroyed everything. I'm sorry.”

She is speechless. She expected excuses. Dazzling explanations.She had never expected contrition.

He reaches beneath his jacket and removes a small glass pendant. It shines the same bright blue his eyes had once been.

“This is yours,” he said.

Her heart. Taken from her in a childhood curse so long ago. Only her husband could put it in its proper place, if it remained unbroken during five years of marriage. Prince of thieves that he once had been, he had found it and broken it on the eve of their second anniversary.

“You repaired it,” she said.

“I replaced it. With mine.”

She has seen him in a million lies. This is not one of them.

“You may stay here if you wish,” he says. “I came only to atone. I do not expect you to forgive me.”

He places the pendant in her hand, bows, then turns away.

When he leaves, she knows she need never see him again.

“Wait,” she says. She removes her mask. “Don’t leave without your wife."

He stops. The other dancers disappear.She puts her hand in his and kisses him as she did on their wedding day.

He is alight with joy as she pulls away. "Does this mean--?"

“I forgive you,” she says.

He laughs aloud.

The heart he gave to her, she freely gives to him. The blue returns to his eyes as their hearts are restored, new and whole.

As the curse crumbles around them, they leave the ballroom behind.

#inklingschallenge #the bookshelf progresses #team tolkien #genre: secondary world #theme: forgive #story: complete #i'm going to regret posting this i think #it makes no sense but it sure was relaxing to write

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httpjupiterbby · 1 year ago

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Swanqueen fanfics recommendations:

note: ngl i’ve been wanting for someone to ask me this. also all the recs are multi chapters… don’t get me started on how many one shots i saved or how many are in this post 😅

Every secret it keeps - Two years into emma and regina's loving marriage, emma discovers that she's somehow, impossibly, pregnant. Unfortunately, no one in this family is naive enough to believe that true love can make babies, and the swan-mills family is thrown headlong into a situation that will strain at the seams of their family– or tear them apart completely.

Dusk til dawn - what happens when the evil queen returns to a post-swan queen storybrooke? How will regina and emma's former relationship affect her pursuit of a happy ending with the savior? (warning: elements of mommy kink, ageplay/regression, and a bit of everything in between; even if you’re not into that, i would still give this one a read! it’s so good and super cute! .)

Storybrooke scandal - Regina Mills and Emma Swan have a long lasting sexual relationship with each other, but they got married along the way, however not to each other. Behind closed doors their relationship still continues, but what will happen when their respective husbands find out about their secret relationship and what will such a scandal do in the small town of storybrooke?

Making exceptions - No magic. Multi-chap. College AU: Emma Swan is a culinary arts student. Regina Mills is her English teacher.

Whispers in the night - AU: Emma's plagued by grief over the loss of her best friend. She joins a support group and meets Regina Mills. They share their heartbreaking stories and come out as friends. Can they find a way to become more than that?

Nine months to love - Regina overhears that Emma is pregnant. As the months pass, she is frequently at Emma’s place, and Emma at hers. Emma and Regina grow emotionally closer as the pregnancy goes through ups and downs. 10 chapters.

Project wingman - Regina has a secret admirer. Unknown to her, this mystery person has been standing right before her eyes all along.

We'll always have hope - “Are you saying I seduced you? “Regina frowned. “If I remember correctly, it was you that pinned me against the bed. It was you who kissed me. It was also you that pulled my panties down using your-“ Emma had messed up. She had messed up badly. There was no way she could choose between her best friend that she had been in love with for years and her husband who she just kind of tolerated. After their impromptu trip for their son's graduation, A few positive pregnancy tests changes Emma’s life forever and makes the decision for her.

Could you escort the maid? - Emma Swan is a 28 yr old aspiring writer who happens to be a professional escort. On a night out with a client Emma obtains a chance to save for her dreams when she is hired by a respected rich couple Robin and his wife Regina as their new maid.What happens when Emma soon realizes their marriage isn't as it seems and what will Robin do when he sees that she is falling for his wife

Darkness Falls - The story of how Emma and Regina discover they share true love is a rocky one. Snow White interferes stripping Emma and Henry of their will and Regina is on the run from a town that has turned on her. With few allies, how will the Queen restore her family and what will be the fall out of Snow's magical manipulations?

Bridges of storybrooke county - Based on the plot of the movie/novel 'The Bridges of Madison County'. Regina is a married and unsatisfied housewife living on an Iowa farm, Emma is a globetrotting photojournalist. Their fateful meeting begins a love affair neither of them is ready for. (And if you want to know whether Francesca gets out of the damn truck this time? You'll have to read the whole story.)

The choices we make - Would you give up the love of your life in name of a dream? Emma Swan and Ruby Lucas have a hard decision ahead and this will change their lives completely, and everyone around them.

What we could of had - Emma breaks up with her high school sweetheart, Regina out of the blue.Ten years later, Regina gets a visit by two adorable kids claiming to be hers.

Someone will remember us - On day one of her junior year at Boston College, Emma makes a fool out of herself in front of the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. She tries not to dwell on it, though – after all, it’s not like the woman is going to end up teaching one of her classes.

A date with destiny - Regina Mills is a 35 year old, rich business woman who is also a virgin. Emma Swan is a 28 year old friend and roommate of fellow business man Robin Locksley and works for Killian Jones. Regina's assistant is tired off suffering from the backlash of her boss's stress and decides to set her up on a blind date with Robin but he can't show and so sends Emma instead.

Circumstance - Emma is an owner of a renowned Fitness Club called Swan Fitness and is also a grad student seeking a Master's in Counseling. Regina is one of Emma's professors and soon to be a member of her club. Will they allow their circumstance to prevent their feelings from evolving? Or will they fight to have their chance at their happy-ending? (TW!!!!)

Indecent Proposal - Emma Swan, a single mother, struggling to pay for her son's medical visits along as his medication, gets more than she bargains for when she meets Regina Mills. New York's bachelorette billionaire who offers her the solution to all her money problems: 2 million dollars and a signed contract stating her companionship for an entire year. One year, where anything could come into play.

Miss Swan goes to storybrooke - Regina Mills is running an underdog mayoral campaign when her hapless partner in crime, Neal Cassidy Gold, hires his new girlfriend to be a part of it. It's hate at first sight. Emma Swan is infuriatingly attractive, infuriatingly competent, and– most infuriatingly– will absolutely bring down their entire campaign if Regina doesn't get rid of her first.

Hi, i'm calling to answer your craigslist ad - Emma, Just like every 18-year-old foster kid, just aged out of the system. With nowhere to go, Emma searches Craigslist's Ads in hopes that she may find a job. While Browsing the "live-in housekeeper" section Emma comes across a post titled: "Seeking Live-in Pet/housekeeper". Starts off as OutlawQueen, ends with SwanQueen.

Chronicles of eris - After bringing back Marian from the past, Emma is left to deal with the consequences and repercussions of that decision. Two months of silent treatment from Regina is enough to push Emma completely over the edge. Together she and Ruby jump into a portal to the Enchanted Forest in order to figure out where they belong in the world.

To woo the queen - Emma Swan finally confesses her love for Regina Mills but as soon as she does, Regina pulls away. If it was just a casual fling Emma wanted, Regina thought she could have done with just that, but an admission of love and feelings scares Regina. Will Emma be able to woo her lady love and change her mind?

Bridges - Emma Swan has always run from everything and everyone; make no connections and no one can hurt you. But one night, something stops her from running. She meets Regina standing at the edge of a bridge, and everything changes. Major TW for suicide, depression, rape/non-con, abortion, child abuse, baby conceived by rape

The Girlfriend Experience - Emma Swan is a successful soccer star who was born with a dick. Regina Mills is the escort she hires to give her the 'Girlfriend Experience' but it turns into more. Little does Emma know, Regina is actually a victim of Mr Gold's sex slavery trade. What will they have to risk to be together? Smutty G!P! (last time i read this, it was still getting updated..)

What have you done - Regina is not speaking to Emma over Marian's sudden appearance. Emma decides she's had enough. Set at the end of Season 3, before things got "frozen." The beginnings of Swan Queen. So what started out as a simple one-shot, expanded and will continue for four chapters.

Lawyer vs. love - Regina Mills is a hard-ass lawyer from New York. Her life is nothing more than work until one day she meets Emma Swan, a barista with a troubled past. But, when a jealous ex comes to town, everything seems compromised and when Emma is sent away she asks Regina to do something that seems impossible.

A moment of truth - After Emma and Regina finally confess their feelings for each other, the dam breaks. This is the story of discovering their love for each and realizing that it had been there all along. This story is low on the angst but high on the feels and does contain plenty of magical sex.

Safe in the arms of love - Storybrooke AU. After an attack, Regina is forced to confront a past she spent her life burying. Can Emma help her find her way back before the darkness threatens to consume her? SQ ending. Trigger Warnings: Rape, assault, child abuse, violence, sexual content, stalkin

Group therapy - Emma Swan meets Regina Mills in group therapy. Contains potentially triggering content such as self-harm, drug use, and discussion of eating disorders. SwanQueen.

One touch - Emma is in therapy, and Regina Mills is her therapist. Eventually SwanQueen. Warning: this story contains mature themes that may be triggering to some individuals. Please read with caution !!!!!!!

In sickness and in health - As if being in an accident wasn't enough, now she's being told she's forgotten the last 3 years of her life? And in those 3 years, she got married...to her? Just great.

Bait and switch - Henry Mills is sick and tired of his mother’s skating around the truth and not realizing that they are perfect for each other and that they belong together. So he has a plan to bring them together and convinces his grandmother to help.

Broken together - After experiencing a great loss, Emma leans on Regina for support. Can she get through this with the help of Regina and Henry? (TW!!!!) (will squeeze the fuck out of your heart)

One more try - Emma and Regina are having relationship issues. (this will eat your heart out!)

Reservation for ms. mills - Senior Henry Mills tries to set up his daughter Regina and Emma because he thinks they'll be perfect for each other. One way or another. (major romcom vibes !!)

Out - Regina breaks up with Robin after returning from the NY road trip. She begins to question her sexuality and decides to test the waters with a familiar face in town. Emma’s jealously rages and Killian is confused. Some Red Queen. Mostly Swan Queen.

Lost time - Emma gets accidentally sucked into a portal to a realm where time works a little differently and when she comes back she's got a little surprise with her. (crazy shit. read it.)

Love undefined - It’s been eight years since the last time Regina and Emma saw each other, eight years since Emma lost part of her happiness, her family, and everything fell apart. But she hasn’t forgotten those three years in New York, or any of what Regina had brought into her life. And if she can be honest with herself, she might even admit that she wants it back.

What’s wrong with emma swan? - Since Emma's return from the Underworld she is a shadow of her former self. Snow seeks Regina's help to get to the bottom of what's wrong with Emma. When Regina discovers the truth their lives are destined to change forever. An unexplained pregnancy and their evolving relationship leads to a future that neither of them saw coming.

A million tiny little things - emma swan doesn’t seem like the kind of person you’d leave in charge of your kids, but somehow she’s landed the job of nannying the mayor’s son. no matter her rebellious streak, she’s more than a little concerned that she’s breaking the cardinal rule of nannydom: do not, do not, start sleeping with your employer. swan queen romcom au.

The staircase - Regina could still smell her cologne and feel the cheap pleather pressing into her back. The brunette sucked in a breath. She was still lying on the floor at the staircase's base and she stared back up at it. Everything was different now. Changed. She felt broken by what had just happened, appalled and enraged, dirty. (TW!!!! very very fucking dark. probably the first dark fic i’ve ever read)

Villains don’t get happy endings - It had been her sacrifice—the price she had to pay. Save everyone she had cursed for 28 years while simultaneously losing the one person she loved the most. Villains, after all, didn't get a Happy Ending. That was reserved for Princesses and Saviors. A 'what if' story where it's Regina, not Hook, who visits Emma in NYC at the beginning of 3B.

Miles to go - Everyone has their own story, this one is theirs and it paints the picture of a love story that spans over two decades, with all the ups and downs and everything else in between. (so fucking amazing!!)

Little match girl - Emergency circumstances lead Emma to move in with Regina and Henry, and the unexpected attraction between the two women stresses their current relationships. At the same time, someone is targeting Storybrooke's children with deadly consequences. (TW!)

The story - Takes place after 3x22. After everything they've been through... After everything that was said between them Robin leaves Regina for Marian and Emma is there to pick up the pieces. Swan Queen Angst and Romance

Oops - Emma and Regina get together at the mansion after they break up with Hook and Robin. Obviously, they get drunk and well...things happen. After one night of pure passion what will happen between the mayor and the sheriff when that night changes their lives, and their relationship, forever.

Skinny love - What are you going on about?" Regina swallowed harshly, really looking at the only person she has been able to bare her soul to. "You don't want me anymore because you found somebody else. Somebody better." Emma looked blankly at Regina. (a-fucking-mazing)

Memento Mori - Regina rejects Emma to stay with Robin after they've slept together. Emma winds up pregnant and tries to win the Mayor back. When the pregnancy is revealed, Snowing forces Emma to Underworld to save who they believe is the baby's father. The Underworld could prove fatal for Emma and her baby. Will they survive or will Regina lose her chance at having true love forever? (the fucking best- i’ve been looking for this..)

Crazy changes - A chance encounter in a bar changes Emma Swan's life forever. One of those changes is the arrival of Regina Mills in her small town. But there's more to the newcomer than meets the eye and when Emma finds out the truth behind a family feud, she must re-evaluate everything she thought she knew.

For endings are where we begin - Regina Mills is your average working mom - she spends long hours at her bakery, loves her son Henry with all that she is, and can touch dead things and bring them back to life. Emma Swan is an orphan, an ex-convict, and a bailbondsperson residing in Massachusetts. She is also currently dead. This is the story of how they meet. [a Pushing Daisies AU]

Forget me not - Tired of feeling heartbroken after Robin's death, Regina takes a Forgetting Potion to eradicate all memories of her True Love. However, things don't go to plan as she can still remember Robin, but has no idea who the blonde sheriff, who goes by the name of 'Emma Swan', is.

Direct and linear relationships - Emma Swan is a barely 17 year old senior. She just has to worry about getting through the year, but a new Physics teacher might make her last year in high school much more interesting.

A single kiss - Emma is only a teenager when she falls madly and irrevocably in love with Regina Mills. She is convinced that Regina is "The One" for her, but it's a love that cannot be. At least not at the time. When Emma returns home years later will they finally find love and a happy ending?

Flu love’s kiss - Magic returns to Storybrooke bringing back magical illnesses as well. 'Love Flu' is going around and it's catching. Swan Queen.

Temporary Distractions - It's been a month and Regina won't speak to her, until she does and Emma is left pretending to be in a relationship with her so that Regina can get through a dinner invitation with her pride intact.

Not going anywhere - Emma’s life was finally starting to come together. She has her parents. Her bond with her son growing. Regina’s walls have slowly started to fall, their friendship blossoming. This doesn't settle well with a select few townspeople that believe there is no hope for The Evil Queen, so they kidnap Emma. They will make her see things their way at any cost. Emma is found beaten and left for dead with no memory of who she is. The ones that took her still at large, Emma is left in the care of the only one who can truly protect her and the only person she allows near her. (tw!)

Reckless abandon - After Regina and Emma spend a night together, Emma is left to deal with the fall out, and a life-altering event, all alone as Regina changes her mind and decides Emma is not what she wants, after all. Will Regina realize what she's done before it's too late? Angst and Swan Queen. (the fucking best!!!!!!)

Casual sex - Emma and Regina begin to have nothing but casual sex diving head on into a friends with benefits, well more so enemies with benefits what will happen when one or both begin to start actually feeling something for each other.

Lattes & lace - Regina's a successful, focused businesswoman running a burgeoning lingerie line that is just starting to gain international attention. Until one winter, an irritating woman opens up a coffee shop next to her studio... and generates constant distractions. But not all of the distractions are a complete disaster. Only few.

Take a chance on me - As Emma recovers at the mansion from an encounter with Storybooke's latest threat, nightmares start to plague her from the trauma she suffered as a child. As Regina comforts her, the women grow ever closer. When Regina is attacked, Emma vows to do everything she can to protect the now terrified and vulnerable mayor.

Teacher’s pet - Emma Swan is starting her senior year this year and she's got a pretty easy schedule. But as her friends tell her about the Creative Writing teacher and how no one has passed her class with an A, what will she do? And who exactly is this 'bitch' as they claim her to be? Swan Queen-Student/Teacher AU

The reason why - Emma Swan never stopped wondering why she left without a word, not even a goodbye. She was used to being left behind and abandoned but when Miss Mills her favorite teacher/mentor of three years disappeared without explanation it still stung. Now over ten years later and a chance run in she might finally find out the reason why.

The crush teacher - Emma Swan's life was easy. She was constantly hanging out with her friends and was dating the most beautiful boys at school. But everything changes when a new teacher starts teaching her at school. Feelings and sensations that Emma had never felt before begin to appear.

A fortunate mistake - After Emma and Regina share a night of passion and a morning of misunderstandings sprinkled with some amnesia, Emma ends up getting married to Hook. But when Emma realizes she’s pregnant, their worlds get turned upside down. With Regina’s unwavering support and Emma slowly piecing her memories together, will their love prevail?

I’ll be home for christmas (with my fake girlfriend) - When her girlfriend dumps her the week before Christmas, Regina Mills needs a date to placate her mother’s insistent badgering. Emma Swan, who’s never really spent Christmas with an actual family, steps up to the plate. Throw in a very pregnant woman, her two children, and a Christmas Eve party? Emma and Regina experience a Christmas weekend they won’t soon forget.

You again - Emma and Regina have known each other since they were kids, and it's amazing how they just can't stand each other.

Has anybody ever told you - After a night on the tequila Emma Swan drunkenly causes mayhem in Granny’s leading to a few home truths for our Madame Mayor.

The rain came pouring down - Emma and Regina have spent the past year working on Operation Mongoose. Emma has fallen in love with Regina and is sure Regina loves her back... until a surprise shows up from the recent past.

A date to remember - AU. Regina is a very successful architect who runs her own company in NYC. She has no time nor need for love. Although, to spice things a little, she allows herself to indulge in a date per person, in order to get some action – no strings attached. Would she change her own rules after meeting a beautiful blonde? Swan Queen (No!Magic)

A month and a half of wednesdays - 40 weeks is ten months not nine... They have it all wrong.Emma spends every Wednesday night at the mills Manor, and has made a little discovery after one wild Wonderful Day with The Mayor.

Waking up - Emma wakes up in the hospital with no memory of her life in Storybrooke with her family. When she sees Regina, though, she suddenly feels a connection between the two of them and feels like she knows her. But how?

Always & forever - Regina Mills is a 34 year old widow who lost her husband Daniel just 4 years after they married. Not only has she lost Daniel but she's lost her 4 year old son as well; Henry. Before their sudden deaths she saw herself as the happiest and luckiest woman in the world. Now that the two people that she's loved most are gone she's afraid that whoever she ends up meeting next will vanish from her life forever. Now to avoid that pain again she's completely shut everything and everyone around her out. Family included.

Pixie dust never lies - A revealed secret, a broken heart, and a stormy night lead Regina and Emma on a path of self-discovery. In the end, they will have to make a choice that will shape their lives forever.

A new perspective - Regina disowns her mother and moves to London. Cora takes Emma under her wing and cultivates a business and a personal relationship. Regina and Emma meet after Cora's death and the fireworks start!! Slow burn SwanQueen and SwanQueen Family. Don't worry, dears, our ladies are alive and kicking through the entire story!!

There goes the neighborhood - SQ AU: Emma Swan has recently relocated to a neighborhood just outside of Quantico, VA after the death of her husband (Neal). She and her twin adopted daughters are just trying to find happiness again. Meanwhile, her new neighbors Robin & Regina Mills have a less than happy household. The women clash from the start, but through a marital betrayal the two women begin to see each other in a whole new light.

Stolen darkness - What started with a dream had revealed to Emma who she really was, upon the confessions of the Charmings' past sins, Emma embarks on a journey of self discovery. Dark Swan, Maleficent, and Swanqueen.

Mirror, mirror. - Emma is working her side-job as a mover when she finds the mirror, shattered in the back of a wardrobe. She takes it home, drawn to it for some reason. Regina finds the mirror in the back of her mother's old wardrobe. It was once broken and put away in a time of duress. Yet the mirror she is holding looks as good as new. When Regina speaks into the mirror one night, Emma answers.

Shadow Haven - Emma Swan is a PR agent who is sent on a holiday by her boss. Regina Mills is the owner of a private island named Shadow Haven. There is more to Regina than initially meets the eye. Swan Queen romance / BDSM story.

Feather of a swan - Emma Swan also ended up cursed in Hyperion Heights. With absolutely no memories of Storybrooke, she gets by working as a bounty hounter. After a particular long day, she just longs for a drink, and goes into Roni's Bar to get just that. But after she meets the bartender, nothing wil be the same again.

In it together - After both Hook and Robin are killed (and Hook doesn't come back in my story!), Emma and Regina grow closer. At first it's about getting each other through the grieving process, but eventually it turns into a much deeper connection.

—-

authors:

@ hunnyfresh | ao3

@ devje | ao3

@LZClotho (LZielinsky) | ao3

@LunaCeMore | ao3

@ClashofShips | ao3

@Z_OTAKU19 | ao3

@ starsthatburn | ao3

@ emmasyellowbug | ao3

@JuiceCup | ao3

@AshKnight | ao3