#contains: prison or captivity

[ratslutuncontained]

stalker who knows you're good with your hands and love to be useful so they ask you to help them install a new radiator. they're your friend, so why wouldn't you help? you trust them.

you're dumb.

they barely lift a finger to help you with the installation, preferring to sit back and ogle you as you obliviously put it together for them. so dutiful, so kind. you're perfect. they love you. they need you. you're all they can see.

you're telling them it's ready, you're about to turn around and get up. you feel a solid presence behind you and before you can even really respond, cold metal is clamping onto your wrist - the other side of the steel cuffs quickly locked down onto the radiator bars.

you look up into the eyes of your new captor and you see nothing but unchecked love, adoration, obsession. they've been waiting to get you like this for a long, long time. don't worry, they love you, they'll take care of you now. you won't have to worry about anything ever again.

you're safe now.

[n0cturn4]

Character: Adult!Damian Wayne x Reader Summary: “I offer you my heart,” he murmured, his voice now an intimate whisper. “And the freedom to do with it as you will.” Word Count: 1185 Music: Habibi

It was a night of scorching heat in the infinite desert, where the sky, dotted with stars, reflected the glow of a fate written long before the birth of kingdoms. In the palace of Al-Nadir, grand and carved in marble and gold, Prince Damian Wayne, now a grown man, wandered silently through its vast corridors. His firm steps echoed like a whisper of responsibility and power. Damian, the prince who carried the weight of two legacies within him, had always been an enigma, a man made of shadows and steel. But that night, something beyond the throne unsettled him. He felt an emptiness, an absence that neither gold nor glory could fill.

The festival of Al-Nadir pulsed like a living heart in the city below, where the people celebrated, and the arts flourished under the desert heat. On that special night, dancers from all corners came to showcase their talents, but there was one in particular, a presence that stood out among all, like a rare flower in the sands of destiny.

And then he saw her.

You, a dancer whose movements seemed to defy the very stars. Your feet glided across the stage like a gentle breeze over the dunes, and your eyes, burning and mysterious, revealed stories that words could never contain. Your body, adorned with veils and jewels that shimmered in the torchlight, moved with a grace that did not belong to this world. Every gesture, every curve of your body was silent poetry, a promise of freedom and power.

Damian, a man accustomed to hiding his emotions, felt his heart waver. The serenity he always carried like armor shattered before your dance. He, a prince of steel, was captivated by a flame he did not understand but could not ignore.

When the music ceased and the applause echoed, Damian knew he had to meet you. He ordered to be taken to you, not with the arrogance of a prince, but with the curiosity of a man before a mystery he longed to unravel. In the palace’s private gardens, beneath the shadows of exotic trees, he waited. The sound of water running through the fountains was the only noise besides his own heartbeat.

You arrived, your eyes raised, firm and fearless, as enigmatic as your dance. There was no fear in your posture, only calm curiosity, as if you knew this encounter was inevitable.

“You called for me, Your Highness?” your voice was a thread of silk, as soft as the night breeze.

Damian tilted his head, his green eyes analyzing you as if he could read your soul through every subtle movement.

“There is something in your dance,” he said, his voice deep and controlled, “something that goes beyond art. There’s a story behind every one of your movements. A battle... a freedom.”

Your lips curved into a slight smile, something enigmatic, like a moon partially veiled by clouds. You observed him with the same care, surprised by his insight.

“Every gesture I make carries the weight of my own story,” you replied. “Dancing is the only freedom I truly have.”

Damian stepped closer, his words like veiled promises in the warm night air. “What if I could offer you more than just that fleeting freedom? What if I could give you something greater?”

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What exactly would you offer me, Your Highness?”

He did not hesitate, his words were precise, like the arrows he so skillfully wielded. “A choice. Stay by my side. Not as a prisoner of my will, but as an equal. Someone who challenges my spirit and shares the burden of power with me. I see in you what few would—strength that deserves to be honored, not tamed.”

The night seemed suspended between you, the wind carrying only the echoes of something forming, something neither of you had anticipated.

“And if I accept this offer,” you asked, your tone low but filled with meaning, “what do I get in return, besides power and your wealth?”

Damian took another step closer, until his eyes, intense as the desert itself, penetrated yours.

“I offer you my heart,” he murmured, his voice now an intimate whisper. “And the freedom to do with it as you will.”

You stepped forward, reducing the distance that still remained between you. Your eyes, deep and mysterious, met his with firmness. It was like looking into a distorted mirror—you, the free dancer, and he, the chained prince. Two worlds so different, yet drawn to each other as if the universe had conspired for this moment.

“And what would you do, Prince,” you began, your voice flowing like a soft melody, “if I took your heart and turned it into my own dance? If I made it part of who I am?”

Damian smiled, a rare smile, almost imperceptible, carrying both melancholy and hope. There was something vulnerable in his stance, a man who had always been a fortress now lowering his defenses before a stranger, yet still, a soul he seemed to have known forever.

“Then,” he replied, with a soft gleam in his eyes, “I would become part of your freedom. Because in the end, there is no greater power than being in the hands of someone you trust.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to stop. The sounds of the festival in the distance, the murmuring fountains, even the soft breeze among the leaves, all silenced in the intensity of that moment. The moon poured its silver light over the garden, as if the heavens were watching and approving of what was unfolding.

You stepped even closer, until you were so near that you could feel the heat emanating from his body, his presence strong and solid. Your fingers, delicate and skilled like in your dance, gently touched Damian's chest, right over where his heart beat. The touch was light, almost like a breeze, but the connection that formed was deep, instantaneous.

“Your freedom and mine are like two stars dancing in the sky, Prince,” you said softly. “I accept what you offer, but know that I will not be a silent companion. My soul is not meant to be contained.”

Damian breathed deeply, as if your words had the power to ignite something deep within him. His eyes never left yours for a moment.

“That is exactly why I chose you,” he murmured, his voice dense, full of promise. “I don’t want someone who bows, but someone who walks beside me. I want someone who challenges me, who makes me question the world as it is.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him, as if deciphering the final secret hidden in his soul.

“Then, Prince Damian,” you said, a light smile on your lips, “we will dance together.”

And so, under the stars that silently watched, the bond between you was formed. The Prince of Al-Nadir, with his heart in the hands of a dancer, and you, with the promise of a love that could not be contained by borders or duties. The night, a silent witness, became the stage for the first act of a story that would defy fate and time.

And in that dance of souls and hearts entwined, Damian Wayne's world began to change, one step at a time.

[bet-on-me-13]

Captive AU

So, the GIW has been around for a while.

Ghosts have been a problem for centuries, the US Government wouldn't have waited until the 21st Century to figure out a way to deal with them, so the GIW has been around for years. And the general Public knows about them, it's a common household name like the FBI or the CIA. They are simply seen as another government organization doing its job, no need to care about the Ghosts they capture, they're Non-Sentient anyways.

Over the years of their existence, they have acquired their own little prison full of Ghosts. And among that collection of Ghosts, 4 stand out.

Because they are somehow Ghost-Human Hybrids.

The first was captured a while before the others. A College Student studying Ectology had been admitted to the Hospital after a Lab Accident, where he had been diagnosed with an, as of yet, unknown and incurable Disease. He had Green Boils popping up all over his Face, and he was in excruciating Pain.

The GIW had sent a team to investigate, and they had found that the College Student was slowly transforming into some type of abomination. He was still partially human, but he was also partially a Ghost. They had him declared Dead and shipped him off to a Blacksite Facility to be experimented on.

...

The Second One came about 10 years later. Coincidentally, it was very similar circumstances. The very same pair of scientists who had been acquainted with their previous subject had just admitted their 5 Yr old son into a local Hospital. He had been in a Lab Accident that had stopped his Heart for a few minutes, and out of curiosity the GIW had sent a Team to investigate.

And what did they find, but a perfect recreation of their favorite Test Subject.

They declared the Child Dead, and sent him off to the same Facility they kept the other one in.

...

The 3rd of the Hybrids was actually created in a GIW Lab, 3 Years Later. In an experiment to see if the Hybrids condition could be recreated, a GIW Scientist had taken the DNA of the 2 existing Hybrids and had cloned them.

Of the Test Batch of 15, only 1 Subject survived. It was deemed only a Partial Success, because while they did manage to create a New Hybrid, it was Unstable and prone to melting if overexerted.

They placed it in the same Containment Unit as the other 2, and left it at that. No more Cloning Experiments had been conducted afterwards since the project was deemed an overall Failure.

...

The 4th and Final Hybrid was found in Gotham City of all places, 2 years later.

A GIW Operative had been visiting Family when their Van's Ecto-Detector had gone off. Soon after that they found the Subject in an Alleyway, seemingly disoriented from its recent awakening.

DNA testing had revealed the Hybrid to be deceased Jason Peter Todd, the adopted Son of Bruce Wayne who had been killed 6 Months Prior while studying in Ethiopia. By the Scientists Best Guess, an Anomoly in Space-Time had caused a Natural Portal to open right on top of the Teenagers Corpse, fusing his Deceased Body and nearly formed Ghost into One.

They shipped the Teen off to the Blacksite, and placed him in the same Containment Unit as the others.

...

So now the GIW have 4 Hybrids, all created from different circumstances, all different ages.

One was formed from the Slow Death of a College Age Student, after a Lab Accident had flooded his system with Pure Ectoplasm.

One was form from the Instant Death of a 5 yr old Boy, after a Lab Accident had flooded his Body with a dimensions worth of Ectoplasm.

One was created in a GIW Lab in a Cloning Experiment. She was created to be 3 Yrs Old upon Birth, and was Unstable as a Result.

One was created from the Fusion of a Long Dead Teenage Corpse and a nearly formed Ghost, in a random Space Time Event that forced both together.

...

All the Halfas are basically a Family together. Vlad is the oldest, at around 35, and takes the Paternal Role.

Danny and Ellie are the Kids, and are 10 and 5 respectively.

Jason is the Oldest Child, and takes his Older Brother role very seriously. He is 15 when he is brought in.

They all take care of eachother, through all the experiments and tests the GIW force them through.

One of the most common experiments is to have them battle the other Ghosts in Captivity. Although that is just a thinly veiled dog fighting ring that the GIW scientists like to Bet on. Sometimes they are put up against eachother, but they refuse to fight until they are electrocuted into submission.

They were also forced to Push all of their Powers to their Limits every day, just so the Scientist can see how they are growing. This had drained them, since they only got the absolute minimum amount of Ecto to survive off of, and they were forced to use it all up every day.

This goes on for 3 more years.

...

Until the day when the GIW messed up.

During one of their Constant Dog Fights, they had made the mistake of putting two Electricity Core Ghosts against eachother. The resulting battle had created an Electromagnetic Wave that fried all systems in the entire Facility.

It was a Disaster. Dozens of Scientists were killed when the Door Locks failed to contain the captive Ghosts, and even more were injured when a few of the Ghosts managed to break into the Armory on Base.

It was only hours after the whole ordeal was Finally quelled that they realized that their most Valuable Test Subjects were missing.

Vlad, Danny, Jason, and Ellie had taken the chance to run away during the commotion. Vlad had unfortunately been injured during the escape, and Ellie had been forced to use her powers causing her to destabilize a little, but all in all they had managed to escape on one piece.

But now they were fugitives on the run from the Government, with an injured adult and a sick child.

Jason had an Idea though. While he didn't have very clear memories of his life, a side effect of his late resurrection, he did remember that he used to live in Gotham. And they all remember researchers grumbling about how their scanners always malfunction when they passed nearby Gotham.

So, Jason led his little Family to the most Familiar place in the city he could think of.

Crime Alley.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ velvet crowbar ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ berlin x lover!reader headcanons

¡!being berlin’s significant other would include¡!

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

╰┈➤ berlin is immediately captivated by your appearance. there’s a rare elegance about you, an understated beauty that commands attention without trying. it’s unlike anything he’s encountered, and it draws him in effortlessly, leaving him interested to know more.

╰┈➤ while your beauty enthralls him, it’s your wit and charm that truly ensnare him. you have a way with words, a sharpness to your intellect that leaves him yearning for deeper conversations and a desire to unravel every aspect of who you are. you become an enigma he’s determined to solve.

╰┈➤ berlin’s nature is cold and unyielding, a result of two decades spent in the unforgiving confines of a north korean prison camp. his past is a tightly locked door, one he refuses to open at first. it isn’t a matter of trust, it’s his way of protecting himself from a pain he refuses to relive.

╰┈➤ dating berlin is nothing short of extravagant. he has a taste for the finer things in life, and he spares no expense in showing you that. lavish dinners, exclusive outings, and opulent gifts are all part of the experience. his funds, after all, seem endless, given the spoils of his opulent career.

╰┈➤ at the beginning, berlin is purposefully vague about his work. he deceives his around the truth with charisma and calculated deflections. when he finally reveals his identity, a high-profile criminal and a key member of his brother’s gang, you’re understandably shocked. but your love for him is more potent than your fear. he makes it clear that betrayal is not an option, his warning softened by the lingering heat of a kiss that leaves no room for doubt.

╰┈➤ his jealousy is a force of nature, impossible to contain. when he introduces you to his crew, it’s denver’s passing glances and rio’s inappropriate comments that instantly set him off. but what truly unsettles him is your bond with the professor, his brother. there’s something about how easily you and the professor connect, sharing moments outside of berlin’s presence, that claws away at him. he despises the idea of not being the sole center of your world, his need for control over both you and his relationships simmering beneath his polished exterior.

╰┈➤ berlin insists on having you by his side at all times, your presence a source of grounding and pride for him. though he would never risk your safety by involving you in the criminal work of his team, you are always there, his hand firmly holding yours, or you standing beside him, your hand resting on his shoulder, a quiet gesture of his authority and your loyalty. you speak in his defense or offer support when needed, an unspoken understanding between you both. despite your non-involvement in their activities, berlin bestows upon you your own city codename, kabul. it is a choice made with care, reflecting his regard for you and cementing your place within his world.

╰┈➤ there are instances when berlin’s volatile nature becomes a challenge. his mind, scarred by years of torment and isolation, is not entirely stable. his temper flares, and though his anger can be terrifying, he never directs it to harm you intentionally. when the storm within him finally subsides, he is left stricken with guilt, his apologies sincere as he cups your face, searching for forgiveness in your tear-filled eyes. seeing the hurt he has caused tears at whatever remains of his hardened heart, and he vows to try and control himself for your sake.

╰┈➤ the gang is stunned by your existence. berlin has always been a man of logic and control, a figure immune to sentiment or attachment. yet here you are, the one person who has unraveled him, proving that even he possesses a sliver of humanity buried beneath his cold, calculated exterior. you are his achilles’ heel, the one weakness that could undo him, and yet he clings to you as fiercely as he clings to life itself.

╰┈➤ berlin is unapologetically affectionate toward you, even in front of the other gang members. whether it’s pulling you into his lap during a quiet moment, brushing his fingers over your cheek, or pressing an unabashed kiss to your lips as if no one else exists, his displays of affection are bold and deliberate. he wants everyone to know you belong to him and, more importantly, that he belongs to you.

╰┈➤ as planning for the heist begins, you are present for every discussion and strategy session, a silent observer in the shadows of their grand designs. while you outwardly support berlin, deep down, you are uneasy about the plan’s immense scale and the inevitable danger it poses to him. yet you know berlin too well to argue, once his mind is set, there is no persuading him. all you can do is pray that his brilliance and luck will see him through safely.

╰┈➤ for the professor, your presence is an anomaly he hadn’t accounted for. in his meticulous calculations, you are the crack that threatens to destabilize his perfect plan. before the heist begins, he warns you in no uncertain terms, you are not to contact berlin under any circumstances. when the time comes, you will receive specific instructions, and you are expected to follow them to the letter. but that isn’t enough for you. the thought of being kept apart from berlin, especially in the face of such danger, fills you with dread, and you can’t shake the desperate need to protect him, no matter the cost.

a/n: let me know your thoughts or if you have anymore requests!! also part two to scarface is coming soon!! 🤍

[gojozballs]

Gojo x Reader "How To Escape A Yandere"

Warning: [This story contains themes of Yandere behavior, manipulation, obsessive love, psychological tension, explicit content, self-harm, and dark themes including death and captivity]

Materialist

Gojo Satoru’s obsessive love traps Y/N in a dangerous, yandere relationship as she desperately tries to escape, blurring the lines between captivity and affection.

Author's POV

Four months. That’s how long Y/N had been stuck in this bizarre, unhinged chapter of her life. Four months since she’d wandered into Japan, thinking she was just ticking off items on her bucket list, and well, she still couldn’t quite figure out how she ended up being the personal prisoner of a man with white hair and a ridiculously cocky grin. But here we are. Four months of high-end apartments, luxury cars, and far too much—Gojo Satoru.

But let's rewind, shall we? To the beginning, when life was much simpler. When she was just a regular tourist, trying to figure out what to eat for dinner. And then, of course, there was that one fateful evening in Shibuya...

Shibuya Streets – 9 PM

Y/N stood in the middle of Shibuya’s neon-lit chaos, wondering if she should check out the ramen shop across the street or maybe that weird little café that looked like it was run by a very angry cat. The possibilities were endless, her trip was unfolding like a tourist's dream but nothing could have prepared her for the interruption that would lead to her captivity.

There he was. A literal vision of perfection, strutting down the street like he owned the whole damn place. White hair, a long black coat that looked like it was made by some world-renowned designer, and a scarf that screamed "I’m too cool to care about the weather." He was practically glowing in the dark, making the neon lights look drab in comparison. And Y/N? She did what any sensible person would do.

She stared.

Not subtlety. None. She wasn’t here for a shy glances situation. No, she was staring, and she was making it known. If she could’ve put on a neon sign that said “LOOK AT ME” she would’ve.

And look at her he did. Their eyes met. The universe, for a brief moment, paused and then everything went into slow motion. Y/N gave him the most casual, confident smirk she could muster. She was practically inviting him to make his move. And boy, did he.

He walked toward her with that strut, the kind of walk that says, “I know you’re impressed. Don’t bother hiding it.” And when he reached her, he didn’t even waste time on pleasantries.

“Well, may I know the name of the lady who’s been blatantly staring at me?”

Y/N blinked. He was speaking in her language. Which, okay, wasn’t exactly a shocker, after all but there was something extra about the way he said it. So smooth, like he knew she’d been checking him out the whole time. She wasn’t even that subtle.

Y/N, being the person she was, didn’t flinch. Instead, she smiled and replied, “Well, hello there, sir. I’m Y/N. And who might you be to captivate me so much?”

Gojo chuckled, a sound that was like a warm breeze, and for a moment, Y/N actually considered the possibility that she might have bitten off more than she could chew. But hey, when in Rome or, well, Shibuya right?

“The question isn't who I am,” he said with that signature cocky grin. “It’s why you can’t take your eyes off me.”

Y/N felt a surge of excitement. This was a game. A thrilling, dangerous game. And, of course, she was all in.

“Well,” she purred, “you’ll just have to find out.”

Getting To Know Each Other

Y/N wasn’t sure how it happened. Honestly. One minute she was exchanging playful banter with Gojo Satoru, and the next bam! they were tangled in the sheets of a five-star hotel room, breathing heavily, both far too into each other for their own good.

Gojo, the smug bastard, leaned back on the pillows and let out a satisfied sigh. “Didn’t take you for a woman with experience,” he teased, his voice low and lazy.

Y/N, who was already not in the mood to let him win any round, raised an eyebrow and gave him a playful side-eye. “Well, I didn’t take you for a guy who whimpers.”

She swore she saw a flicker of surprise flash in his eyes, and it made her grin like a devil. Gojo, the untouchable, the most powerful person in Japan whimpering? he thought. Oh, this was getting good.

“You should know,” Gojo said, propping himself up on his elbows, “you were way more vocal than me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, feigning innocence. “I didn’t realize that.”

“Really?” Gojo’s voice was a dangerous whisper. “Well, let’s check again, shall we?”

And just like that, another round began.

Present

Now, four months into this unplanned, absurdly complicated mess of an adventure, Y/N had one very simple, very clear goal: escape.

But there was just one tiny problem. Gojo Satoru. The man was everywhere. Literally. She tried to leave for groceries, and boom, there he was, “accidentally” showing up at the store. She tried to sneak out at night, and suddenly, there he was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“You know, Y/N,” he’d say with that maddening grin, “you can’t run away from me. You’re mine now.”

It was cute at first. But after a while, it got... not so cute. The guy was like a relentless puppy that you couldn’t shake off, except the puppy had limitless power and a twisted sense of humor.

And the worst part? Sometimes, just sometimes, Y/N found herself thinking: What if I didn’t escape?

But nah, that thought was far too dangerous, and she quickly shoved it to the back of her mind. For now, she was focusing on how to, once again, dodge Gojo’s very real and very possessive grasp. But if you ask her, she might just tell you that escaping was a little overrated.

Because let’s face it, Gojo Satoru was a whole lot of trouble, but damn, was he fun to mess with.

Still, if she really wanted to escape a yandere like him, she’d have to get creative. Pretend to like his weird, obsessive affection? Nah, that’s too much of a horror show even for her. The trick? A mix of patience, subtle sabotage like hiding his sunglasses good luck going anywhere without those, Gojo and a touch of psychological warfare. And if that didn’t work, well, maybe she’d just have to fake an even more ridiculous obsession than his and watch him lose his mind. It was a gamble, but Y/N was good at playing games especially when the stakes were her freedom. She doesn’t care about the consequences; all she knows is that she will escape."

The Only Way Out Is to Get Help

First things first: I need to get help. It’s my only shot at escaping from him. If I can reveal Gojo’s true nature, maybe I’ll stand a chance. Every Saturday, a blonde guy in a suit and another man would come over. Gojo always tells me to stay in the room. He doesn’t hide me away from them, but he doesn’t let me interact with them either. So, the timing is crucial. It’s 5 PM now, and they’ll be here around 7. My mission? Stay out of that damn room before he locks me in.

I smile sweetly, playing my part. "Hey, would you let me make you some apple pie tonight? I’ve got all the ingredients." I settle into his lap, his hand sliding possessively over my thigh. One thing about Gojo Satoru? He’s obsessed with sweets, and I know this will keep me out of the room, at least for a little while.

"Aww, baby, you’re the best!" he gushes, and before I can pull away, his lips find mine in a flurry of kisses. I smirk internally. He’s so easy to manipulate when it comes to his weaknesses. This could work if I time it just right.

In the kitchen, I hear the door creak open. I don’t see them, but I know they’ve arrived. The penthouse is huge, but I can hear the sound of their voices echoing down the hall. Gojo’s voice, sharp and commanding, calls out to me.

"Sweetcheeks! How’s the pie going?"

I freeze. My heart starts racing. What if he makes me go to the room? I scramble to keep my composure. "Well, it’s almost done, but I need to keep an eye on it," I stammer. My hands tremble as I pour juice into two glasses. I need to move fast. I can’t let him lock me away.

"Alright, I’ll just be over here for a second… Stay away from the visitors, yeah?" Gojo’s voice isn’t a suggestion it’s a threat. I nod hastily, hoping to hide my anxiety.

This is it. I take a deep breath and make my move.

I step into the living room, hands shaking slightly as I walk toward the two men. They glance at me, and then they stand up, clearly taken off guard by my sudden appearance. The blonde man gives me a polite smile, but there’s something too practiced about it.

"Good evening."

"You didn’t have to. We’re leaving soon anyway," the other man says, his voice neutral as he glances at the juice in my hands.

I can’t waste time. This is my only chance. "Listen to me closely," I say, voice shaking with urgency. "I need to get out of here right now. Please… you have to help me."

Both men look at me, but there’s no shock, no surprise just a quiet understanding, like they’ve heard this before. The blonde man steps closer, his eyes searching mine. "What do you mean?"

My heart pounds in my chest as I spill everything, my voice trembling. "I’m being held captive! By that man. I’ve been here for months! Against my will!" My words come out in a rush, desperate to get them to understand.

But their reactions are not what I expect.

The blonde man simply tilts his head. "Seems like Gojo-san’s stories weren’t exaggerated after all."

I blink, completely thrown off. What the hell do they mean by that? They’re... acting like this is normal?

The smaller man in the suit adds, almost casually, "Well, that’s just Gojo for you."

I stand there, frozen, my mind reeling. They’re not even reacting like it’s a big deal. No shock, no concern just another day at the office for them. It feels as though they’ve seen this all before, as if it’s just another facet of Gojo Satoru that they’ve come to accept. They don’t question it. They don’t intervene.

Before I can ask any more, Gojo’s voice cuts through the air, laced with a dark warning. "Causing a scene, sweetcheeks? I told you to stay away from them."

His hand grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. There’s no playfulness in his gaze now just raw, unrelenting darkness. "Do you want to see another man that badly?"

And then it hits me. I understand the twisted truth. Gojo isn’t keeping me away from them to protect me. He’s doing it out of jealousy, that sick, possessive urge to control every inch of my life.

The worst part? These men... they’re not surprised. They don’t care. They just accept that this is Gojo’s way, and that’s how things are. There’s no saving me from this nightmare.

I shiver, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. I have to find another way because if I stay here any longer, I might lose whatever little of myself I have left.

Freedom in Death

It’s been two weeks since I tried my first escape, two weeks since my wrists were marked by the desperate attempt. The bruises are healing, but the frustration? That never fades. Sure, Gojo’s given me everything: luxury gifts, food so expensive it could make anyone feel guilty, and experiences I’d never known existed before I met him. I should be happy, right? But no, I’m suffocating. It’s not the lavish life I thought I’d always wanted.

I need to disappear. The plan this time? To vanish completely, to make myself a ghost. The thought that Gojo could easily erase me from existence, make me a missing person without even breaking a sweat, has been haunting my every thought. He has power that could bury me without a trace.

I’m already numb, the luxury around me like glitter on a dead body.

“Y/n, babyyyy, I bought caviar for dinner!” Gojo’s voice cuts through the heavy silence, too cheerful for the mood I’m in. I hate it, that forced brightness in his tone that only makes me feel more like a prisoner than anything else. He’s always there, smiling, watching, like I’m just one more toy to add to his collection.

I sigh, my breath heavy as I reply, “Alright, let me just wash up.” My voice is flat, detached, like I’m talking through a haze. It doesn’t matter, though. He wouldn’t care. I walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Not that it’ll stop him. Gojo can break anything, but for now, I’ll indulge myself in this small act of control.

The tub is cold. I keep my clothes on as I sit down, the knife beside me gleaming with dark potential. This is it. I can end it all. No more hiding. No more pretending I don’t want to escape from the nightmare of Gojo’s love. He thinks he’s the sun, that he can shine on everyone and anyone—but not me.

I lift the blade slowly, positioning it on my wrist. The cold steel makes my heart race, my fingers trembling as I whisper into the silence, “I hope you take karma for this, Gojo Satoru.”

The first cut stings. I let out a shaky breath, watching the blood spill out like it’s finally leaving the prison inside me. I don’t stop there. No, I dig deeper. I carve out my pain, feeling the red warmth spread. I welcome the dizziness, the fading light. It’s almost... peaceful.

But then... his voice.

“Sweetcheek, why are you taking so long in there?” Gojo knocks, his voice casual, like he’s asking me about dinner, not about what I’m about to do. I don’t answer.

He doesn’t try to break down the door, which is laughable. He doesn’t know. He thinks I’m just taking a long bath, but he’s wrong.

I’m dying in here.

I can hear his footsteps getting closer. I can hear his stupid, careless voice call my name. “Y/n? Baby?” The door rattles, and then I feel his hands, pulling me into his chest, his breath hitching as he realizes what I’ve done.

I smile weakly, feeling the world spin. This is satisfying, in a way. His panic, his desperation. The way he holds me like I’m a fragile thing that could break. But he doesn’t understand.

“Y/n?! Baby? No, no, no...” His voice cracks, and my heart stabs like the knife in my wrist. Tears? Is he crying? Oh, how deliciously unexpected. I want to laugh.

But I don’t have the strength.

“Don’t you close your eyes, baby,” he says, his voice trembling, his hands shaking as they press against my skin. "This isn't over."

And then everything fades to black...

I wake up in a bed I didn’t ask for. A bed surrounded by the faint scent of antiseptic, the echo of voices too close, too suffocating.

“She’ll be fine now, Satoru,” a woman’s voice says. It’s calm, too calm.

“Maybe you should stay here in the meantime, just to be sure, Shoko,” Gojo’s weak voice follows, barely above a whisper.

“She’s fine. Just keep an eye on her like you always do,” the woman, Shoko, says. I can almost hear the roll of her eyes, the distance in her words.

And then I realize it. I’m still here. I’m still trapped. I couldn’t even escape with death.

I want to scream...

A month has passed with Satoru never leaving for work, staying by my side to ensure I won't try anything like that again. The days drag on, but I force myself to heal, to put on the appearance of recovery. Because as soon as I’m whole again, another plan will begin. And this time, nothing will stop me...

Yandere by Choice, Not by Heart

If I could match his vibe back then, I could definitely do it again. You know, the whole “pretend to be just as obsessed” routine until he finally cracks and gives me the freedom I want. So far, this little game has been almost too easy. He thinks I’m just needy, but I’ve got my eyes on the prize freedom. The one thing I’ve learned about Gojo Satoru? He’s a busy man, and he takes his job seriously. If I can keep up this act, I can make him so wrapped up in me that he’ll fold. At least, that’s the plan.

As I feel his arms slip from around me, I can tell the routine is starting. He’s always so punctual, always so... serious about his work. It’s cute, really, but today? Not today, not when I need him to stay in bed with me just a little longer.

“Toruuu…” I whined, pulling him back to me. “Where you going?”

He froze, half standing and half leaning over, looking like the workaholic he is. I took that as my cue and immediately tugged him back down, burying my face in his chest and sniffing him like he’s some kind of scent-filled snack. Just like he does to me. His scent? Pure temptation.

“Oh sweet cheeks, what’s up with you?” He chuckled, his voice a low, smooth purr as he stroked my hair. “You know it’s time for me to get ready for work.”

I made a dramatic, exaggerated groan. “But I need you hereeee.”

Mentally, I cringed at my own words. Did I just say that? Yeah, I did. Whatever. He loves it. He’s not going anywhere. He’s gonna stay with me and—wait for it—skip work for me.

“Oh, really?” Gojo chuckled, his arms tightening around me as if he’s considering it. “Alright, since you’ve never been this sweet, maybe I’ll skip today.”

Yes! Victory! My first win. I mentally fist-pumped, but on the outside, I kept the act up, batting my lashes at him like I had no idea what I was doing.

"Thank you, Toru," I said in my best innocent voice, nuzzling into him. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Days Passed...

My plan? Keep turning up the obsession. I’m practically a step away from being more needy than he is. And you know what? It’s working. Slowly but surely, it’s working.

There was that one day when I insisted we shower together. Nothing too extreme, just a bit of skin-to-skin to remind him that, yes, I am always this close to him.

“Mm, I love when we shower together,” I purred, pretending to casually reach for the shampoo, brushing my body against his.

Gojo smirked, his usual cocky grin spreading across his face. “Yeah? You just want to see me naked.”

“Maybe,” I teased, “but mostly, I just love when you're all wet and slippery.”

His eyes darkened for a second, but he quickly recovered. “You're a mess, you know that?”

“Oh, but I’m your mess.” I grinned up at him.

He just laughed, as if he enjoyed every second of it. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, trying to decide if he should be more amused or concerned.

But wait, there’s more.

I also started following him everywhere. I mean everywhere. To the bathroom at night? I’d insist on accompanying him. Peeing together? Sure, why not. We’re close, after all. Besides, he never seems to mind when I casually slide into the bathroom with him at two in the morning.

“Really, Y/N? You’re going to watch me pee?” he teased one night as I leaned against the doorframe, casually inspecting my nails.

“I’m not watching,” I replied with a wicked grin. “I’m joining.”

The night didn’t stop there, though. After all, if we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. We had to have our “three times a day” sex quota. Why not? It’s not like we had anything better to do, right?

“You’re insatiable,” Gojo said, breathlessly flipping us over mid-session as I moaned against him. “You sure you’re not the one obsessed here?”

“Why, Toru, I am obsessed,” I whispered in his ear, my lips brushing against his skin. “But you're the one who started this.”

And oh, he did. He absolutely started it. Now I had him where I wanted him: in every way possible.

The Ultimate Game

Okay, so maybe I got a little carried away. He loved when I ate off his plate. He loved when I insisted on eating from the same spoon as him. A little weird, but it worked. At least he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed... content? Happy? Maybe?

“Seriously, Y/N?” Gojo asked, as I snatched another piece of sushi from his plate. “You’re eating all my food.”

“I’m just making sure you’re not starving,” I said sweetly, taking another bite. “We’re basically one. So it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” He shook his head, a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. “If you want to eat off my plate, you’re going to have to share the bathroom with me every time I go in there.”

“Done.”

Oh, and don’t forget the bathroom negotiations. Every time I would "need" some alone time, I'd make sure he waited outside the door. Not to pee or anything oh no, I was doing my business but it was all a part of the game. And guess what? He was starting to enjoy it.

“Really, Y/N?” Gojo said, sitting casually against the doorframe, smirking at me. “You’re going to make me wait outside?”

“Yep. You’re lucky I’m even letting you know what’s going on in there.”

It was a lot of fun, but I couldn’t help the nagging thought in the back of my mind... Was I starting to lose myself in this little game?

It’s working. It’s all working. All the clinginess, all the obsession, it’s finally making him bent to my will. And every time he smirks, every time he looks at me with that dangerous, half-amused, half-worried look, I know he’s in it now.

“Be as obsessed as he is,” I thought to myself, a wicked grin on my face.

But maybe... just maybe... I was starting to like it.

The Endgame

Okay, okay. Maybe escaping was a bit… ridiculous. Who needs to escape anyway? The more I thought about it, the more I realized: What if the real escape wasn’t about running? What if the escape was just… getting lost in this whole twisted, insane mess?

It was starting to hit me maybe he wasn’t that bad. I mean, sure, Gojo Satoru was possessive, borderline obsessive, and utterly impossible to shake off, but let’s be real: when was the last time anyone was this dedicated to loving you? Hell, it’s practically a rarity these days. Most guys can’t even commit to a dinner reservation, let alone a life sentence with someone like me.

So yeah, maybe he stalks me like a possessive ghost. Maybe he follows me everywhere, even into the bathroom 'I really wasn’t expecting him to just chill outside while I… did my thing, but hey, that’s true commitment'. Maybe I kind of like it.

And let’s not even mention the whole “skipping work” thing. Seriously, it’s like he’s a workaholic... unless I pout and bat my lashes, and suddenly he’s throwing his entire career out the window for me. It’s not like I forced him into it… too much. Who wouldn’t want to feel this wanted? That’s basically an act of love, right?

[iphigeniacomplex]

I have long been interested in the resonances between the Nakba and the Maafa – this is the Swahili word chosen for what is otherwise dubbed the “Middle Passage” in the history of African enslavement in the Americas, in North America specifically in this case. Both terms translate to the same thing: disaster or catastrophe. Both are used for enormous dislocating experiences that go on to define ongoing lives of struggle. Whenever I hear “Nakba,” I think immediately Maafa. There is a need to insist on these terms in these languages because, as the argument goes, there is no way that the language of the colonizer – the language of the criminal who criminalizes us – can adequately express the experience of this crime,  a crime against humanity, our humanity, and a crime against history. The Nakba was a presence in the overwhelming majority of my interviews with Palestinian former prisoners (who might become prisoners anew at any time, we must add). I would begin by asking where they were from to find out who they are and how they began their lives in the revolutionary struggle. They would often narrate their histories in terms of origin in a now “far” place, followed by displacement around 1948. Each micro-autobiography was also a Nakba story, about families scattered and how people came to end up in Ramallah or Hebron from Haifa or Jaffa. It may be helpful as well then to think of the ongoing Nakba as part of a regime of captivity, and not only as dispossession and expulsion, as it is commonly discussed by other academic perspectives in particular. This is no dichotomy. A focus on captivity could nonetheless highlight Zionism’s ongoing attempts at controlling Palestinians, not to mention others, “here and there.” In the context of apartheid in South Africa or Jim Crow in the US, people often think the term “segregation” accurately identified what was going on. But this is misleading – there was never really “segregation” by any name in those cases. There was always a line that the colonizer could cross when he saw fit for purposes of economic or sexual exploitation or any other reason and that the colonized couldn’t cross without facing murderous violence. The “separations” of “Apartheid” are breached in and out of colonial interests, as a rule. Similarly, when we think of the Nakba it is very much about removing Palestinians from land as well as controlling and containing them at whatever remove at the same time—in Gaza, in the West Bank, in the diaspora beyond. Look at the assassination of the escaped prisoner Omar Zayed, who was newly captive in seeking refuge in the Palestinian embassy in Sofia, Bulgaria. Also, one former prisoner whom I interviewed in Majd El Kurum described that village as “a West Bank-style refugee camp” in ’48 Palestine. We could talk about how gentrification operates like this in Palestine and the U.S. with all its attendant policing and state violence. Like Malcolm X said, a long time ago now, this is very much about the power of control and containment in the bloody occupation of land, wherever you are or end up – all limiting terminology aside.

—Professor Greg Thomas for the Nakba Files, “Palestine in the Sun of the Black Radical Tradition”

[novaursa]

The Last Fire

- Summary: You survived the fall in the desert, and now it's up to you again to decide where your story leads or ends.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Note: This part contains two new possible endings that were requested. Pick your poison. These events happen after The Last Flight, and these two short stories are part of The Broken Crown series. For all parts in one place, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

Ending where Y/N survives the fall, but still dies.

The last thing you remember is the unbearable pain, the world spinning out of control as you and Tesaerix plummeted toward the unforgiving sands below. Her agonized roar still echoes in your mind, a terrible sound of agony and desperation. The impact had been a blur of fire, darkness, and then nothing at all.

When you wake, it is to the sensation of a dull, throbbing pain that pulses through every inch of your body. The air is thick with the scent of herbs and smoke, and your mouth is dry, lips cracked. Your eyes flutter open, struggling to adjust to the dim, unfamiliar light. Stone walls loom around you, cold and unwelcoming. A Dornish castle. Your heart sinks.

Your first instinct is to move, to fight, to escape, but your body betrays you. Sharp pain lances through your side as you shift, and a low, involuntary groan escapes your lips. Everything hurts. Every breath is a struggle, every thought fogged with the weight of what has happened. You reach for your belly, your hand trembling as it finds the emptiness where there should be life. The child is gone. A sob rips through your throat, raw and jagged. The loss is a hollow ache, a void that you cannot fill, no matter how hard you try to pull the shattered pieces of yourself together.

A guard standing at the door turns at the sound, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker—satisfaction, perhaps. His armor gleams in the dim light, the crest of House Martell emblazoned on his chest. He watches you struggle with an impassive gaze, offering no words of comfort or aid.

“How long?” you manage to rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper, rough from disuse.

“Eight days,” the guard replies, his voice flat. “You’ve been unconscious for eight days.”

Eight days. The weight of it settles over you like a shroud. Aegon must think you are dead. The thought of him mourning you, believing you lost, brings a fresh wave of pain. You try to imagine what he must be feeling—the grief, the rage. It’s almost too much to bear.

You attempt to sit up, but your body refuses to cooperate. Every movement sends sharp stabs of agony radiating through your limbs. The guard takes a step forward, a warning in his eyes.

“Stay down,” he commands, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re under orders not to leave this chamber.”

“Orders?” you ask, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. “From whom?”

“Princess Meria Martell,” he replies. “You are to be held here until he decides your fate.”

Your fate. The words chill you to the core. You are a prisoner, a trophy to the Dornish princess, held captive in the land that has stolen so much from you. Your dragon, your child. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the hopelessness is overwhelming. You close your eyes, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.

But you cannot afford to break. Not now. You have to survive. You have to find a way out, a way to let Aegon know that you are alive, that you are still fighting.

The days pass in a haze of pain and frustration. You are too weak to move, too broken to plan an escape. The guards change shifts, faceless men who bring you food and water, who watch you with the wary eyes of those who know they are in the presence of something dangerous, something they do not fully understand.

One evening, as the sun sets below the horizon, you hear it—a low, distant rumble. Your heart skips a beat. It is a sound you know well, a sound that has haunted your dreams since the day you fell. Dragonfire.

You push yourself up, the pain almost unbearable, but you force yourself to ignore it. You stumble to the small, barred window, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The sky is a dark canvas painted with flames, the unmistakable black silhouette of Balerion the Black Dread soaring above, his jaws spewing torrents of fire that rain down upon the castle below.

“Aegon,” you whisper, your voice breaking. He has come. He has come to avenge you, to burn this place to the ground in his wrath. But he does not know—you are still here. Panic surges through you, cold and sharp. You pound on the door, shouting with what little strength you have left.

“Help! Someone, please!” But no one comes. No one hears. The guards have fled, the castle descending into chaos as Balerion’s fury turns stone to ash and sand to glass.

The flames grow closer, the heat becoming unbearable. The walls of your chamber begin to crack, smoke seeping in through the seams. You cough, your lungs burning as you struggle to breathe, to think.

You have to escape. You have to find a way out. But there is no time. The fire is everywhere now, the heat scorching, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning flesh and wood. You stagger back, your legs giving out beneath you as the ceiling above begins to splinter, molten rock falling like rain.

In your mind, you see Aegon’s face—his eyes dark with grief, his jaw set in that way that you know means he is barely holding himself together. You want to reach out to him, to tell him that you are still here, still alive. But the words stick in your throat, lost in the choking smoke and searing pain.

The door to your chamber bursts open, flames licking at the edges, and you know this is the end. There is no escape, no hope. You close your eyes, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you surrender to the inevitable.

“I’m sorry, Aegon,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the roar of the fire. “I’m so sorry.”

The flames engulf you then, and the world fades to black.

The great hall of Aegonfort was cloaked in an uneasy silence. Servants moved quietly, casting nervous glances at the somber figure of the King. Aegon Targaryen sat on his throne, a shadow of the man he had been. His face was pale, eyes haunted, the lines of grief etched deeply into his features. Each breath felt like a burden, each moment a struggle to maintain the stoic facade he had been forced to wear since that day.

He had returned from Dorne victorious, or so it seemed to others. But victory felt like ash in his mouth. The fury that had driven him to lay waste to Sunspear had given way to a hollow emptiness. The cries of the dying, the smell of burning flesh—all of it haunted him, because none of it could bring you back.

It was then that a servant approached, holding out a small, sealed scroll with trembling hands. “A message from Princess Meria of Dorne, Your Grace.”

Aegon took the letter, his fingers almost numb as he broke the seal. His eyes scanned the parchment, and as he read, his blood turned to ice. The words blurred, but their meaning was unmistakable. You had been alive. Captured, held prisoner. And he had—without knowing—burned you alive in his wrath.

He staggered back, the letter slipping from his grasp and fluttering to the ground like a dying leaf. The world spun around him, his knees buckling as the weight of the revelation crashed over him. His vision dimmed, and he would have collapsed, had Visenya not been there, her strong arms wrapping around him, steadying him.

“Aegon!” Her voice was sharp, full of concern, cutting through the fog that clouded his mind. Rhaenys was there too, her face stricken, rushing to his side.

“Aegon, what’s happened?” Rhaenys asked, her voice trembling. She reached for him, her hands gentle but insistent, trying to draw his gaze to hers. “Please, tell us.”

He could barely speak. The words lodged in his throat, a jagged knot of guilt and horror. His body trembled uncontrollably, a tremor that started in his hands and spread through him like a plague. His eyes, wide and filled with unspeakable anguish, locked onto the faces of his sisters, searching for something he could not name.

“I—I killed her,” he choked out, his voice breaking on the last word. “I burned her alive.”

The silence that followed was absolute, the kind of silence that is born from disbelief, from horror too deep to comprehend. Visenya’s grip on him tightened, her face ashen, her eyes reflecting a grief that mirrored his own.

“No, Aegon,” Rhaenys whispered, shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “That can’t be true. You wouldn’t—”

“She was there,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “In the castle. Alive. And I... I didn’t know.” His words faltered, breaking under the weight of his confession. “I thought she was gone, and I...” He buried his face in his hands, a raw, strangled sob tearing from his throat. “Gods, I killed her. I killed them both.”

Rhaenys’ hands flew to her mouth, a sob escaping her lips as she stumbled back, her legs giving way as she sank to the floor. Visenya’s face hardened, though her eyes shone with unshed tears. Her grip on him remained firm, as if trying to hold him together when everything else had shattered.

“Aegon,” she said, her voice breaking through the haze of his despair. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.”

But her words felt meaningless, empty. There was no solace to be found in them, no absolution for what he had done. He had let his rage blind him, had let his need for vengeance consume him, and now the price was beyond bearing. The child—your child—gone forever, as he believes it was taken by his own hand. And you... you, whom he had loved more fiercely than life itself, gone because he had failed you in the worst way imaginable.

His body shook with the force of his grief, tears he could no longer hold back streaming down his face. “I killed her, Visenya,” he whispered, his voice a broken thing. “I killed her and our child. I... I’ve destroyed everything.”

Rhaenys reached for him then, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him close as though she could somehow hold the pieces of him together. “Aegon, no,” she wept, her voice a soft, desperate plea. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

But the truth of it was a knife twisting in his gut. He had believed you dead, and in his fury, his pain, he had become the very thing he had sworn to destroy. He had let his grief turn him into a monster, and in doing so, he had taken everything that mattered.

Visenya knelt beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder, her touch a steadying force amidst the chaos. “We will get through this,” she murmured, though her voice shook. “Somehow, we will.”

But Aegon knew there was no coming back from this. No battle to fight, no enemy to conquer. The enemy was within him, a darkness he could never escape. The flames of Balerion’s wrath had claimed more than just stone and flesh—they had taken the very heart of him, leaving nothing but ashes and ruin.

And so he wept, there on the cold stone floor of Aegonfort, his sisters by his side, but no comfort to be found. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, broken by his own hand, mourning the woman he had loved—and lost—twice over.

Ending where Y/N survives the fall with her dragon near Sunspear.

The air was filled with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, the heat of battle suffocating even in the high sky. Tesaerix’s wings beat heavily, each movement strained, her breaths coming in labored, ragged bursts. You could feel her pain through the bond you shared, a deep, searing ache that tore through your side as if it were your own. She had been struck, the harpoon lodged deep in her flank, just beneath her wing. Her roar of agony still echoed in your ears, a sound that would haunt you forever.

“Hold on, girl,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you leaned forward, your hand pressing against the warm, slick scales near the wound. Blood, dark and thick, oozed from the gash, and your heart clenched with fear. “Just a little longer.”

Tesaerix let out a low, rumbling growl, her muscles tensing beneath you as she angled downward. The ground rushed up to meet you both, but her descent was controlled, her movements careful despite the pain wracking her body. You clung to her neck, every jolt sending fresh waves of agony through you both, but you held on, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

The landing was rough, her massive form crashing down onto the rocky terrain outside of Sunspear with a jarring thud. The impact jarred you from the saddle, sending you sprawling onto the ground. Pain flared through your side, and you gasped, your hands instinctively moving to your swollen belly. The baby. The fear that gripped your heart was cold and sharp. You forced yourself to take a breath, wincing as you struggled to your feet, pain lancing through your body.

“Tesaerix…” You turned to her, your heart breaking at the sight. She lay on her side, the harpoon still embedded in her scales, her eyes half-closed, her breaths shallow. You stumbled toward her, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch her snout, your fingers brushing over her warm, familiar scales.

“We made it,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “We’re safe now.”

But even as you said the words, you knew they were a lie. The sound of approaching footsteps and the clatter of weapons made your heart sink. You turned, your body tense, as a group of Dornish soldiers surrounded you, their spears raised, their faces hard and unyielding. Behind them, riding in a litter shaded by silks, was Princess Meria Martell, her gaze sharp and calculating as it swept over the scene.

“You are far from home, Targaryen,” she said, her voice carrying over the tense silence. “And in no position to bargain.”

You straightened, ignoring the pain that shot through your side, your hand still resting protectively over your belly. “I am Queen Y/N Targaryen, wife of King Aegon. I demand safe passage for myself and my dragon.”

Meria’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Demands, is it? You are in no position to demand anything, child. You and your dragon are prisoners of Dorne.”

You glanced at Tesaerix, her body still and trembling with pain, her deep red eyes flickering weakly. Chains were already being brought forward, heavy iron links that were meant to bind her, to keep her grounded and helpless. The thought of her, proud and fierce, being chained once more like a common beast made your blood boil.

“Please,” you said, your voice breaking despite yourself. “She’s wounded. Let her be treated, and I will come with you peacefully.”

Meria studied you for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. Then she gave a curt nod. “The dragon will be tended to, but she will remain under guard. And you will come with us, now.”

The soldiers stepped forward, and you forced yourself to stand tall, even as fear and pain threatened to overwhelm you. Tesaerix let out a low, pained growl, her eyes locked on you as the soldiers approached, her body tensing as if she would rise and fight, despite her injuries.

“No,” you whispered, your voice firm as you placed a hand on her snout. “Stay, Tesaerix. Stay.” She let out a soft rumble, her massive head lowering to the ground, her eyes closing as if to conserve her strength. You turned back to the soldiers, your heart aching, but you forced yourself to move forward.

They escorted you into Sunspear, through winding streets that echoed with the murmurs of the people, curious and wary as they watched the procession pass. You kept your head high, your gaze fixed forward, refusing to show any sign of weakness or fear.

They led you to a chamber in the castle, its stone walls cool and unyielding. The door closed behind you with a heavy thud, the sound of the lock sliding into place echoing through the room. You were alone now, a prisoner in an enemy’s stronghold.

The days blurred together, each one filled with a growing dread. Your thoughts were consumed with worry for Tesaerix, chained and wounded outside the city. You paced the confines of your chamber, your mind racing with thoughts of Aegon, of what he must be feeling, believing you lost. You could only hope he would find out the truth before it was too late.

On the fifth day, Meria visited you. She stood in the doorway, her expression inscrutable, her eyes lingering on your belly before meeting your gaze. “Your dragon will survive, though her wing may never fully heal,” she said, as if discussing the weather.

Relief washed over you, though it was quickly followed by a fresh wave of anger. “And what of me? What do you intend to do with me?”

Meria tilted her head, considering. “You are valuable, Targaryen. As long as you remain with child, your life is safe. But know this—I will use you to ensure Aegon’s compliance. The war has cost too much already.”

You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your voice steady. “And if I lose the child?”

“Then your fate will depend on my whim,” she said simply, her eyes hard. “Do not try to escape, Y/N. Your dragon may be chained, but even a wounded beast is dangerous. And if she dies trying to save you…” She let the implication hang in the air, the threat clear.

Rage and fear battled within you, but you forced yourself to remain calm. “I will not try to escape,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue. “But if you harm her, there will be no place in this world you can hide from my husband’s wrath.”

Meria’s smile was thin, humorless. “We shall see, my lady.”

As she left, you sank onto the hard bed, your body trembling with exhaustion and despair. The days that followed were a blur of pain and uncertainty, your thoughts constantly turning to Aegon, to Tesaerix, to the fragile life within you. You had to survive, for their sake. You had to find a way to endure.

Outside, you knew the chains that bound Tesaerix were a constant reminder of your captivity, her pain mirroring your own. But you were both still alive, still fighting, even if only by clinging to the hope that Aegon would come, that he would find you before it was too late.

And when he did, you swore to yourself, you would make them all pay for what they had done. For every wound, every chain, every day of fear and suffering. You would see Dorne burn for this. You would see them all kneel before the fury of the Targaryen fire.

Princess Meria Martell sat in her chambers, the heavy stone walls of Sunspear pressing in around her like the weight of a great, immovable burden. She drummed her fingers on the polished wood of her desk, her eyes scanning the letter she had penned days ago. She had offered the King a simple exchange: your life and freedom in return for Dorne’s autonomy. It was a calculated risk, a gamble meant to end the bloodshed that had ravaged her lands and threatened her people.

But the answer she received was not what she had expected.

The messenger had barely finished delivering the news when a sudden, deafening roar echoed across Sunspear, shaking the very foundations of the castle. Meria’s heart froze. She shot to her feet, her blood turning to ice as a servant burst into the room, his face ashen with terror.

“Dragons, Your Grace! They’re here!”

Panic seized her. She swept past the servant, her silks rustling as she hurried down the corridors, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The stone walls seemed to close in around her, her mind racing with fear and confusion. Aegon wasn’t supposed to come, not yet. Not like this.

Reaching the balcony that overlooked the city, she pushed open the doors and stepped out into the blazing sunlight. The sight that greeted her was one she would never forget. Balerion the Black Dread hovered above the city, his massive wings blotting out the sun, casting a dark shadow over Sunspear. Below him, Vhagar and Meraxes circled, their screeching cries filling the air as if announcing the coming storm.

And there, on the edge of the city, near the main gates, was Tesaerix. Her golden scales glinted in the harsh light, her massive form still and tense, the iron chains that held her stretched taut. But Balerion was descending toward her, the great beast’s eyes glowing with a dark, dangerous intent. With a mighty roar, he landed beside her, his immense claws tearing through the chains as if they were no more than threads.

Tesaerix let out a guttural snarl, her wings unfolding cautiously as the last of her bindings fell away. The sight of the great dragon, wounded yet still fierce, stretching her wings and shaking off the restraints, sent a shiver down Meria’s spine. She knew then, with a clarity that burned like ice, that she had underestimated Aegon Targaryen. This was not a king who would bargain or yield. This was a man who would see the world burn before he let anything be taken from him.

Meria turned, heart pounding, as she saw the three figures approaching the castle. Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys dismounted just outside the gates, the air around them shimmering with the heat of their dragons’ breath. The ground trembled beneath their feet, the power of their presence undeniable, terrifying.

She forced herself to move, to descend the stairs and meet them at the entrance. Her guards flanked her, their faces pale, their hands gripping their spears as if holding on to the last shred of their courage. She stepped forward, lifting her chin, though her heart raced like a caged bird.

Aegon’s eyes met hers, and the fury she saw there was like a living, breathing thing, coiled tight and ready to strike. His face was a mask of barely contained rage, the lines of his jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might shatter.

“Princess Meria,” he said, his voice low and cold, as if he were spitting the words through gritted teeth. “You dare to hold my wife captive and then try to negotiate with me?”

Meria swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I offered you peace, Your Grace. An end to this war. Dorne in exchange for—”

“For my queen? For my child?” he snarled, stepping forward, the raw power radiating from him like heat from a forge. “You think you can trade lives with me, like some merchant haggling over goods? I am no man to be bargained with.”

Visenya’s eyes were like chips of ice, her hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, the sword gleaming wickedly in the sun. “You will release her, and our unborn nephew or niece, now,” she said, her voice a quiet, deadly promise. “Or Sunspear will burn until it is nothing but a memory.”

Rhaenys’ usually warm, vibrant presence was overshadowed by a seething anger. “Do not mistake our patience for weakness, Princess,” she said, her voice taut with restrained fury. “You have made a grievous error.”

Meria raised her hands, trying to project calm. “I do not wish for more bloodshed. I swear to you, Y/N is unharmed. She and the child are safe.”

“Safe?” Aegon’s voice was a roar, his eyes blazing. “Chained like a beast, held in your dungeons, with her dragon bound outside like a common animal—that is your idea of safety?”

Meria took a breath, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “I needed to ensure that Dorne would not be crushed under your might. I needed leverage.”

“And now you have none,” Visenya cut in, her tone sharp as a blade. “Release her. Or I swear by the gods, your city will burn until there is nothing left.”

Meria hesitated, her mind racing. She had known this moment was dangerous, but she had thought she would have time, that she could control the situation. Now, looking at the three Targaryens before her, their dragons looming like harbingers of death, she realized just how badly she had miscalculated.

She nodded, slowly, her voice quiet. “She will be brought to you. Unharmed.”

Aegon stepped forward, his face inches from hers, and she could feel the barely restrained fury radiating off him like a physical force. “If I find one scratch on her, one sign that she or my child has been harmed…” He let the threat hang, his eyes burning into hers with a promise of utter destruction. “I will reduce this city to ash and bone.”

Meria shuddered but nodded again, turning to give the order. As she did, she glanced back at the dragons, at Balerion, who stood protectively near Tesaerix, the massive beast’s eyes glowing with a deadly intelligence.

She knew then that there would be no mercy, no second chances. If she failed to deliver, if she tried to deceive them even slightly, Sunspear—and all of Dorne—would be lost to the wrath of the dragons.

And so she prayed, silently, that her people would not suffer for her misjudgment, and that you would be returned to your king unscathed. Because if not, there would be no place in this world that could hide her from Aegon’s vengeance.

[cadaveerie]

Here are the transcriptions of the Backstory for Rook's factions in the Character Creator (with the different pronouns available + surnames):

GREY WARDENS

Surname: Thorne

BACKSTORY

Shield Against the Night

When innocent lives were at stake, Rook led the charge, saving a village from a monstrous nightmare--no matter the cost to herself/himself/themselves.

During a large darkspawn incursion, Rook was ordered to hold the line with other Grey Wardens until reinforcements arrived. Rook argued that by then, villagers under attack would be dead. She/He/They disobeyed orders, leading the squad into the incursion and sealing the tunnel to the Deep Roads. This turned the tide, and the darkspawn were driven off, which saved the villagers. Rook's heroism was popular among the younger Wardens, but others with connections to noble families resented her/his/their independent streak. Rook chose to step away while tempers cooled.

VEIL JUMPERS

Surname: Aldwir

BACKSTORY

Hunter of Secrets

When lives were at stake, Rook defied orders to rescue people from the mystic perils of Arlathan.

On an expedition to ruins in Arlathan Forest, the Veil jumpers found ruins that contained important lost lore and deadly danger. Barely surviving the ruins' ancient magical defenses, Rook's small team recovered and invaluable map leading to a hidden area of the forest. Although the team escaped, other Veil Jumpers found themselves trapped. Rook chose to return to the ruins, saving her/his/their teammates' lives, but losing the map. She/He/They was/were lauded for her/his/their bravery, but the map's loss caused some resentment among Veil Jumper leaders.

SHADOW DRAGONS

Surname: Mercar

BACKSTORY

Breaker of Bonds

Rook risked everything to liberate the enslaved people of Tevinter, even knowing it would anger the ruling elite.

The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous. While guarding a visiting dignitary who was investigating a slavery ring in the nearby city of Nessus, Rook concluded that the mission would fail without throwing caution to the wind. Alone, she/he/they sneaked the dignitary deep into Venatori-controlled zones and brought him back, along with the rescued slaves. These actions brought Rook to the Venatori's attention, and the Shadow Dragons decided to keep Rook out of sight.

LORDS OF FORTUNE

Surname: Laidir

BACKSTORY

Seeker of Gold and Glory

When a corrupt Rivaini noble double-crossed Rook, Rook escaped a collapsing ruin, turned the tables, and destroyed a dangerous artifact.

A rising Lord of Fortune, skilled at breaking into lost tombs and ruins, Rook killed a corrupt Rivaini noble to prevent an ancient evil from being given to the Venatori. Her/His/Their actions were correct and saved the lives of expedition members, but some Rivaini nobles were resentful. Because the success of the Lords' expeditions relied on Rivaini authorities looking the other way, it seemed wise for Rook to step away while tempers settled.

MOURN WATCH

Surname: Ingellvar

BACKSTORY

Defender of the Dead

When restless spirits threatened the inhabitants of the Grand Necropolis, Rook took the decisive action to protect both the living and the dead.

Discovered by undead inside a Grand Necropolis tomb as an infant, Rook was raised by Mourn Watch necromancers, eventually joining the order. During a "civil war" between undead nobility, known later as the War of the Banners, she/he/they led a daring attack on the rebellion's dueling leaders. It was a success, quelling the war and saving lives. But Rook's destruction of these undead nobles was controversial. Some Mourn Watchers feared Rook had offended the order's aristocratic patrons and encouraged her/him/them to travel for a while.

ANTIVAN CROWS

Surname: de Riva

BACKSTORY

Assassin Extraordinaire

When the invaders of Treviso took people captive, Rook was determined to free the prisoners at any cost.

A talented new Crow recently promoted to full membership, Rook chafed at the cautions of her/his/their commanders, especially with her/his/their city occupied by brutal soldiers known as the Antaam. When Rook saw a patrol herding along captives one night, she/he/they leaped into action. Despite saving lives, however, Rook had unknowingly compromised a larger Crow operation against the Antaam. Rook's superiors were incensed. Sidelined for her/his/their actions, the young assassin searched for new ways to prove herself/himself/themselves.

source :)

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

THE GUARDIAN'S DILEMMA KICKSTARTER HAS LAUNCHED!!

My DEBUT GRAPHIC NOVEL, The Guardian's Dilemma, is getting published with the Cloudscape Comics Society! Just four hours after launch we've already hit over 600$ of our 3600$ goal! By supporting you'll get a copy of the expanded edition of Guardian's Dilemma, awesome swag, and support an indie nonprofit publishing house!

But what IS The Guardian's Dilemma about?

Zizi of Cleo knows there’s no going back after their starship home is shot down, stranding them on Earth. Placed in the custody of agents operating a top-secret facility for alien life, they have to contend with interrogation, confinement, and worst of all... Meddlesome adults.

Neveth Amalthea Musleath - an alien hailing from the planet Haddal - is placed in charge of most beings from outside our solar system. Zizi is his latest ward; a nut to crack for the citizens of Earth and a living connection to his own homeworld from which he has not heard in some time. The connection is tenuous at best - aliens to Earth, but also to one another.

Neveth serves as jailer, interrogator, and the only possible opportunity for companionship in the oppressive system Zizi finds themself in for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In a society that benefits from the captivity of both and demands their compliance, can Amalthea and Zizi reconcile their needs and wants with each other and with humanity? Can one truly care for another when placed in a terrible position that benefits from its prisoners being at odds?

“The Guardian’s Dilemma” is a soft science fiction with ethical drama. It touches not only the  themes about trauma but also hope for the future. Together in captivity Zizi and Neveth form an uneasy truce. As the ethics of their containment bears down on them, their distrust begins to shift to feelings of refuge, the familial, and freedom from their respective sorrows begins to look more and more possible.

[saturnsbabyboii]

🧿Ruler of the 12th house Through the Houses🧿

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🧿Meaning and Symbolism of the 12th House🧿

The Twelfth House is the House of the Unconscious, the House of the Unseen, the House of Sorrow, Loss, Shadow, the Inner World, and Invisible Enemies. It is ruled by the sign Pisces and the planet Neptune (Jupiter in classic Western).

The unconscious state can help us create successes and cope with failures. This house could be called the House of Retribution and Fate because it is here we review where we have been, where we are, and decide where we are going. It also discusses hidden strengths and weaknesses. While placements in this house have an active role, the sign that resides over it and its planet of rulership and placement acts as a gateway into our psyche's deeper and hidden aspects. Our subconscious works tirelessly on our behalf to make sense of our lives. This shadow play is slow, drawn out, and frequently fraught with fear and pain. We are confronted with our sorrows, suffering, and the secrets we keep from ourselves and others.

Here we meet the outcomes of everything we've done. This emphasizes repressed desires and restraint even more. What we have created in our lives is a significant theme of the Twelfth House ruler placement, and we will deal with it both consciously and unconsciously. The unconscious can teach us a lot. We will be prompted to be charitable in its most noble form. We are better equipped to move forward if we learn our lessons, both past and present. The Twelfth House compels us to seek spiritual closure to aid positive growth. The twelfth house shows how you undermine yourself. It's also referred to as the house of secret enemies. But if you think about it, these enemies are very often in the place where you'd never look for them: in yourself. It contains many patterns of behavior that don't serve us Or are straightforward destructive! Loops that are repeating themselves over and over harm us in many ways. The worst is that you aren't even aware of them, and it often takes years to realize that something isn't right (this is why I love astrology, it quickens up the process of self-discovery).

Often, you build your own prisons. Most people are the captives of their own limitations and false beliefs. A way to let go is by finding the connection with the source. The twelfth house in your natal chart suggests issues holding you back. The last house ruler also recognizes where we can feel stuck and confined. It governs places that restrict freedom, such as prisons, hospitals, institutions, and asylums, to name a few. Danger, secret enemies, and secret affairs add to the lugubriousness of the Twelfth.

On the other hand, this house champions positive transformations. This is where we stand on the ridge and decide how to proceed. We can learn about the future by visiting the unconscious and meeting with the past. If the 8th is the house of cycle death and transformation, the 12th house is the house of the ultimate end, soul ascension.

-Note: This is for entertainment purposes only and should not be taken as professional advice.-

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 1st house🧿

The ruler of the 12th in the 1st can indicate that you have a deeply spiritual and intuitive nature. You may have a strong connection to the subconscious mind and are highly in tune with your emotions and those of others. As a result, you may naturally tap into the spiritual realm and receive messages or guidance from higher powers. 

Mirroring yourself and being aware of your surroundings have been significant issues in your life. Depending on the signs/placements/aspects, you may be overly concerned with yourself, the impressions you leave, your place in the world, who you are, and how you can improve or change yourself and the world as a collective. This placement can also suggest a tendency towards self-sabotage or self-destructive behaviors, so staying grounded and aware of any negative patterns in your life is necessary. You need to be more open to expressing yourself and be completely authentic. Understanding grief, pain, solitude, loss, escapism, and the unknown and becoming aware of self-defeat and destructive behaviors will improve the relationship between your outer conscious persona and your inner true unconscious self.

Your emotions are one of the first things people notice about you. You wear your heart out for the world to see; even though your first impression is mysterious and difficult to pin down, your emotional state radiates through. This may make you feel like an outcast or an extraterrestrial. As such, you can form an internal image of yourself as a victim or someone who has suffered enough from the outside world. Your ability to express yourself is limited by your worldview and other people's perceptions. You may withdraw from your surroundings to maintain a sense of self and identity. Be wary of falling victim to constant daydreaming, escapism, and substance abuse (in extreme cases). You draw attention to your suffering, and your outlook on life is shaped by your encounters with unexplainable supernatural or paranormal events. You might feel isolated. People notice you as you have a spiritual perspective with a mystical and difficult-to-fully-grasp aura.

Be wary of associating with people who do not have your best interests at heart, as you undermine yourself. The 12th house deals with secret enemies, and yours may influence how you present yourself and your appearance. Don't fall victim to alleged healers, abusive lovers, enablers, difficult therapists, and associating with people of an unsavory caliber. Keep an eye out for red flags and people that force getting to know you hastily. Trust your gut feeling and intuition regarding what enters your life and what you're willing to share.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 2nd house🧿

The positioning of the 12th ruler in the 2nd suggests that there may be some hidden or subconscious fears or anxieties around money, possessions, or self-worth. As a result, you may feel the need for privacy and solitude when it comes to financial matters. 

Finding solace, engaging in psychic activity, and recognizing self-sabotage all contribute to financial stability, defining personal values, and accumulating possessions. On top of that, incorporating meditation, dream work, and spiritual practice can positively impact your self-worth and self-esteem. However, experiencing intense grief and loss can have a negative effect on your self-esteem and make it difficult for you to recover from hardships quickly.

You may feel the urge to escape from the reality of working for a living, particularly when you can't afford the things you desire. This can have a severe impact on your mental health. Consider working in an environment that aligns with your intuition or imagination. You may also have a strong attachment to your belongings and a desire to become one with them. Engaging in dreamwork, meditation, spirituality, and counseling could help you increase your income or attain financial security. It's important to recognize that your escapes from reality can influence your financial stability, but you can use your alone time to increase your net worth and earn more money. 

Having time alone is crucial for your well-being, as seclusion and isolation play a significant role in your spiritual growth. You may attend retreats to boost your self-esteem and self-worth. Participating in charitable work can help you put things into perspective and align your purpose in life with your values, particularly when loss and grief impact your values. When it comes to self-worth and money, it's easy to lose your boundaries. An unhealthy attachment to money and possessions can lead to self-destruction.

You may spend money as a way to escape, numb, or improve your mental state. However, depleting your resources can lead to stress and dependence. You may also fantasize about having more money. It's important to take time for self-reflection and trust your intuition when making financial decisions. Seeking the advice of a trusted financial advisor or therapist may also be helpful. Your spirituality, constant desire for growth, and good use of intuition are qualities to be proud of. Prioritize your well-being, and don't let money or possessions define your sense of self.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 3rd house🧿

The placement of the 12th house ruler in the 3rd house can significantly impact how a person thinks and communicates. This placement suggests a tendency to keep secrets and maintain privacy in daily interactions, as well as an interest in spiritual or mystical topics and a desire to uncover deeper meaning in intellectual conversations.

Furthermore, this placement can aid in communication, information gathering, and everyday interactions by providing solace, escapism, and awareness of self-sabotage. Those with this placement may be drawn to topics such as psychic and paranormal phenomena, conspiracy theories, folklore, kidnappings, and missing persons. They may even write about their experiences in prison or mental institutions or on topics related to mental health, spirituality, and the paranormal.

Individuals with this placement may work in fields such as hospital dispatch, prevention helplines, school counseling, or group-focused healing. They may also have a talent for singing and prefer one-on-one communication over group settings.

However, this placement can also lead to preoccupation with sorrow, grief, and loss, which may affect communication in everyday situations. These individuals desire meaningful connections with others and often incorporate their dreams and fantasies into their conversations and writing. Walking is a way to connect with the inner selves. However, they may also have experienced loss in their relationships with siblings. They can also be hidden enemies. Placing the 12th house ruler in the 3rd house can provide a unique perspective on communication style and internal information processing.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 4th house🧿

According to astrology, the ruler of the 12th in the 4th may cause hidden emotions or past traumas to affect your home life and family relationships. To improve emotional security, familial relationships, roots, and heritage, it is recommended to release grief and sorrow, practice solitude, and become aware of self-sabotage. Loss and grief can impact your psychological makeup, while loneliness can affect your emotional security. Dreams also have an impact on your emotional well-being. 

You may experience sadness and loss through family relationships and grief and sorrow through parental relationships. You might welcome people down on their luck into your home and volunteer at a homeless shelter. However, you might also live with people who do not care about your well-being, and your secret adversaries might be right in your own home. 

Privacy and alone time are important to you at home, and family ties can sometimes contribute to self-undoing. Encounters with your ancestors or roots may also contribute to self-undoing, as it is a family tradition. You might have a dreamy or otherworldly presence in your home and family, and you may practice spirituality, prayer, and meditation in the privacy of your own home. 

Addressing these issues and working on healing is important to create a more harmonious living situation. This placement also indicates a need for solitude, introspection, and the potential for psychic or intuitive abilities. Exploring these spiritual gifts and utilizing them in your daily life is recommended. Remember to prioritize self-care and seek support from trusted friends or professionals.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 5th house🧿

With the position of the ruler of the 12th in the 5th house, you have a strong inclination towards expressing your creativity through spiritual or subconscious themes. Your personal experiences in finding solace, escape, engaging in psychic activity, and even self-sabotage are all influential factors in the way you channel your creativity, hobbies, risk-taking, romantic pursuits, and interactions with children. Notably, even your grief and sorrow can contribute to your creative work, such as music, art, theater, photography, or dance, which can have a dreamlike quality and may even involve entities from other worlds. 

Your passion for physical self-expression is evident in your participation in sports programs and artistic endeavors and your involvement in charitable activities related to it. However, when alone, you tend to express your spirituality through creative pursuits, such as writing spiritual music, creating spiritual imagery, and meditating on paintings. You also have a strong interest in surreal photography and exploring spirituality and the paranormal. 

It is important to note that your relationships with children may trigger feelings of grief and sorrow, and you may struggle with self-sabotage in matters of pleasure and romance. Therefore, to experience personal growth and fulfillment, you must delve deeper into any underlying fears or limiting beliefs that may prevent you from thoroughly enjoying these aspects of life.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 6th house🧿

The positioning of the ruler of the 12th in the 6th house indicates that you may have a tendency to withdraw from work or health-related activities and prefer solitude. This could make it difficult for you to maintain a routine or a healthy lifestyle, leading to feelings of guilt or inadequacy. 

You find solace, escape, and psychic activity in activities that help improve your health, work, routine, and animal interaction. Your interactions with animals may lead to feelings of sadness and loss, but they also help you connect with your spiritual side. You receive health advice through your dreams and working with charities is a regular part of your routine. However, working in places like hospitals, prisons, or other institutional settings is also a regular part of your job, exposing you to grief, loss, and sadness. You deal with grief one step at a time. 

Your desire to escape reality affects your work. You dislike routine, office jobs, or conforming to set schedules. You may be unfocused at work and daydream a lot, but you bring creativity to your daily work. You may feel loss and sorrow through interactions with coworkers and employees. They may be your secret enemies, and you are more likely than others to lose your job due to your own undoing or that of a coworker. You want your work to be a part of you, but it may also bring you suffering through servitude. 

You feel more comfortable completing daily tasks when you are alone, but you need to work on being more methodical when it comes to your health. You approach your interests from a spiritual perspective and practice meditation to improve your health. Health problems may cause you grief and loss, and too much alone time may also be detrimental to your health. You have a creative approach to nutrition and health. You communicate with spirits through animals, have a strong appreciation towards spirit representations of animals, and build strong emotional bonds with animals. However, your self-undoing may also come through animals. 

It is important to remember that self-care is crucial to your well-being, and seeking support from others can help you overcome any challenges you may face. So stay positive and persevere to find a balance that works for you and achieve success in your personal and professional life.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 7th house🧿

When the ruler of the 12th house is positioned in the 7th house, it can indicate a significant correlation between concealed apprehensions and intimate relationships. This specific placement may suggest that the individual might encounter difficulties in releasing past traumas or hidden secrets within their relationships. Furthermore, it can indicate a desire for privacy and a need to keep certain aspects of their relationships hidden from others. Releasing grief and sorrow, solitude, escapism, psychic activity, and becoming aware of self-sabotage serves cooperation, conflict, significant partnerships, and negotiations. 

You experience sadness and loss through substantial relationships. You get in touch with your spiritual side through marriage and committed partnership. You marry an ex-con. Dreams show you your marriage partner. You have an otherworldly, spiritual connection with your significant other. Involvement with people who need help affects your significant relationships. Your grief and sorrow affect your relationships. You express sadness to your partners. Your approach to significant relationships is dreamy and unfocused. You bring imagination to your partnerships. You sabotage yourself in significant partnerships. You want to experience complete bliss with your partner. You experience complete merging with your partner. Your partner desires to escape from reality as much as you do. You lose your boundaries when it comes to significant relationships. You transcend boundaries through significant relationships. 

Your experiences with loss and sadness fuel a business venture. You become a lawyer on behalf of a hospital or charitable organization. Your interest in paranormal and psychic phenomena affects your significant partnerships. There is a tendency to trauma bond and develop a codependent relationship.

You experience loss, grief, and sadness when relating to others. Your desire to escape reality affects your ability to maintain a serious relationship. You experience spiritual connections with other people, particularly angelic or ethereal beings. You find release through getting to know partners intimately, whether through couple therapy or something small such as playing question and relationship games.

It is highly recommended for individuals with this placement focus on addressing and releasing any concealed fears or emotional baggage to sustain healthy and fulfilling relationships.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 8th house🧿

When the governing planet of the twelfth house is situated in the eighth house, it can exert a profound influence on an individual's existence. This celestial positioning implies a pronounced inclination towards investigating the enigmatic aspects of existence, such as the subject of death and the afterlife. Such persons with this placement may possess heightened levels of intuition or extrasensory perception, facilitating their immersion into the world of the unseen. They may also gravitate towards spiritual pursuits such as meditation, yoga, or energy healing.

However, those with this placement tend to be highly reticent and guarded about their private lives. They may harbor deeply rooted fears and insecurities, which they keep concealed from the outside world. Owing to the twelfth house's proclivity towards escapism, these individuals may be vulnerable to self-destructive or addictive behaviors.

On a positive note, this placement also signifies the potential for immense personal growth and metamorphosis. By confronting their fears and traversing the depths of their subconscious mind, individuals can attain an enhanced comprehension of both themselves and the world at large. They may also possess a natural talent for counseling and aiding others who may be undergoing similar tribulations.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 9th house🧿

If the ruler of the 12th house is located in the 9th house, it suggests a strong inclination toward seeking spiritual knowledge and higher education through introspection and solitude. In addition, this placement implies a deep interest in exploring foreign cultures and beliefs and a desire for travel and adventure. However, it is important to note that individuals with this placement may tend to escape or avoid responsibilities, as the 12th house ruler signifies a need for retreat or withdrawal from the outside world. 

Engaging in activities such as seeking solace, exploring psychic abilities, and becoming aware of self-sabotage can help broaden horizons, travel, publish, and explore foreign cultures and belief systems. However, recognizing that traveling and meeting people from different countries can lead to exposure to grief and despair in the world, which may lead to feelings of sadness and loss. Moreover, one's belief system may also contribute to self-undoing, mainly if it is dogmatic or rigid. 

Higher education can provide a path toward spiritual exploration, while dreams can serve as a means of travel and awaken one's, inner explorer. Religious practices may also be approached from a spiritual or otherworldly perspective. Nevertheless, loss and sadness may affect one's relationship with faith and religion and interactions with people from other cultures.

Fascination with paranormal and psychic phenomena may also influence one's belief system, while interest in such activities may fuel the desire to travel. In addition, it may inspire individuals to become journalists. First, however, it is vital to ground oneself in practical realities and pursue spiritual and intellectual interests while fulfilling responsibilities in daily life.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 10th house🧿

The ruler of the 12th house in the 10th house could mean that the person is strongly inclined towards being alone and reflecting on their career or public image. It suggests that they might have an unconscious desire to withdraw from the world and seek inner peace, but they may find it challenging to balance this with their work life.

Attaining acknowledgment and discovering a rewarding occupation can be aided by surmounting grief, isolation, evasion, and self-sabotage while heightening extrasensory perception. Nonetheless, interactions with authoritative figures may also instigate feelings of melancholy and deprivation, and aspirations and societal status can lead to self-defeating behavior. Similarly, parental bonds and reputation can also evoke sorrow. Striving towards spiritual objectives can enable you to channel your creativity and actualize your aspirations, even potentially leading to a position as a CEO. Your spiritual outlook toward career and achievements brings mindfulness to your professional pursuits, yet your encounters with sorrow and despair may impede your ascent to the top. Your fascination with paranormal and extrasensory phenomena, alongside your losses and publicly expressed dismay, may be widely acknowledged. Escapism could obstruct tangible accomplishments, rendering you renowned for your escapist tendencies. You may yearn for absolute elation and unification with your public persona, but this may result in the dissolution of boundaries and transcending them while pursuing your dreams.

To achieve a sense of harmony between these two seemingly divergent paths, these individuals must discover methods to honor their need for privacy and reflection while simultaneously pursuing their aspirations and objectives in the public sphere. Through conscientious attention to both their inner and outer worlds, those with this placement can successfully attain both personal fulfillment and professional achievement.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 11th house🧿

If an individual's ruling planet of their 12th house lies in the 11th house, they may tend to avoid social situations and feel disconnected from groups. This can pose a challenge in forming deep connections with others, despite having a strong sense of the collective unconscious and a desire to aid others through spiritual or humanitarian activities. Furthermore, this placement may imply a need for solitude for clarity and rejuvenation. Through the release of emotions and embracing alone time, one can form connections with like-minded individuals, work towards social reform, achieve long-term goals, and foster friendships and admirers. This arrangement also allows one to explore psychic abilities and overcome self-destructive behavior.

Participating in social causes and making friends can positively affect one's ability to cope with feelings of sadness and loss. However, group participation can also lead to self-destructive behavior due to mob mentality or groupthink. Therefore, balancing the internal world and social interactions is crucial to enrich one's life. The desire to become involved in spiritual activities with like-minded people with similar interests and goals can be a powerful motivator to become a social reformer. Dreams can offer guidance toward achieving objectives and becoming a force for positive change. While partaking in group activities can be advantageous, it is essential to ensure that one's friends share similar interests and aren't merely a means of escapism. Striking a balance between solitude and social interaction can result in connecting with one's spiritual side, forming meaningful connections with others, and accomplishing objectives.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 12th house🧿

If the ruler of the 12th house is also situated in the 12th house, it could signify that the individual possesses a deep sense of introspection and spirituality. Such people may tend to withdraw from others and feel compelled to engage in self-destructive behaviors. For individuals with this placement, it is extremely important to prioritize their mental and emotional well-being since they may be susceptible to depression and escapism. It would be beneficial for them to dedicate time to dealing with their sorrows and pain, spending time alone, exploring their psychic abilities, and identifying any self-destructive tendencies that they may have.

Dealing with grief and sadness can be overwhelming and leave you feeling lost and confused. It's important to give yourself permission to process those emotions instead of trying to suppress them through meditation or isolation. While solitude can provide some comfort, it can also worsen feelings of sadness and loneliness. You may find comfort in connecting with your spiritual side if you have psychic abilities. Additionally, involving yourself in social work or charitable pursuits can help you better comprehend and empathize with those who are experiencing grief and sadness. Remember, seeking support and assistance whenever you need it, whether incarcerated or hospitalized, is perfectly acceptable.

Excessive isolation, confinement, acts of altruism, and intense emotional bonds with individuals or spiritual practices can cause self-undoing. Additionally, being overly susceptible to unconscious forces can exacerbate this issue. In such circumstances, an elevated state of awareness may encounter difficulty discerning actuality from deception.

If you wish to connect with your spiritual side, you can take two distinct paths. The first option is to fully dedicate yourself to a monastic lifestyle. The second option is to delve into the depths of your subconscious through your dreams. This process allows you to tap into the collective unconscious and better understand yourself and the world around you.

You possess a deep spiritual understanding, as evidenced by your approach toward prisoners. By counseling those in need, you can offer guidance and support to those who may feel lost or alone.

Your imagination is truly remarkable, and it's clear that you possess a high level of sensitivity. These qualities allow you to connect with others on a deeper level and to offer unique insights and perspectives that others may not be able to provide. Overall, your spiritual depth and insightful nature make you a truly remarkable individual. However, with a heightened sense of self-awareness and a solid commitment to personal growth, individuals with this placement have the potential to access profound insights and spiritual wisdom that can significantly enhance their lives.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I hope you enjoyed this post. Please let me know what you think, I appreciate the feedback. (Even if I don't respond 😅)

[fawninthesnow]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞: Part 4

𐙚 Emperor Geta x Fem Reader! 𐙚 18+

Summary: You are the daughter of General Marcus Acacius. Upon your fathers disappearance, you search for answers as to why you and your mother are being held in the palace.

Warnings/contains: dom fem, f4m, teasing, pinning, size kink, idealization, obsession, captivity, tension, not proof read

Word Count: 2.1k

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The general proceeded forward towards the emperor. “We have managed to break up the riots within the city. However,”

“Well, out with it!” The emperor spat and threw off the sheet from his hips.

“Ahem, I would like your permission to use force for the riots outside the city.” He said, looking away from the man as he put his robe back on.

“What kind of question is that?! Of course! And every man that throws a single stone or unsheathes his sword should be put in chains and taken to the prison! They want to act like animals?! They can kill themselves in the colosseum.” General Acacius did not bother arguing back and forth with the man. “Round them up.”

From your place in the closet, upon hearing your father’s conversation with the emperor, you groaned with confusion and annoyance. You did not want to hear about people being put in chains, of course not. You wanted to fuck the emperor. You wanted him beneath you; the two of you withering with pleasure. You wanted to enjoy the fruits of your own labor, in more ways than one. You moved between racks of clothes and found the servants door for deliveries. You quietly left the closet and ended up in the back halls of the palace. After a few minutes of walking, you found your suite that you now share with your mother.

She was sound asleep and on her side. You slipped into bed on your side and stared at the few candles still aflame.

After he dismissed your father, the emperor rushed to the closet where you once hid. “[Y/n]? [Y/n]?” He sucked his teeth with annoyance and hit his fist on the doorway. “Gone again.”

The next morning, you, your mother, and the two emperors ate in awkward silence. Your mother ate slowly and kept her eyes on the hands around her. You finished half of your food before gazing around the room; the heavy weight of Emperor Geta’s gaze on your skin.

“Where is my father?”

Geta sighed at the sound of your voice; his full attention was already on you but now he got the turn to speak to you. “The General is doing his job of protecting the Roman people.” You already knew of what your father was doing but he should be back by now. It is near noon, nothing involving a few protesters should last this long. “He is doing the right thing.”

You squinted upon hearing that, “How do you mean?

“Your father is keeping the peace in Rome.” He said as if it were obvious and sipped from a cup.

“Wonderful news. I am sure he will be back soon.” Your mother interjected. “I am sure we will be able to return home.”

“Yes, of course. No longer a need to keep an eye on you two.” Emperor Caracalla laughed, “We know you both are innocent.”

Later that day, you searched the palace to find the emperor. He did the same for you and went into the guest chambers. He wondered into the empty room and looked through your open trunk of clothes. His fingertips ran over the fabrics of the clothes, lingering over the handmade details. He could care less for the clothes themselves but the thought of you wearing these most days out of the year made him feel things he could not put into words. The man gripped the fabric in his fingers and brought it to his nose. Your signature perfume coated the pieces of work. Piece by piece, garment by garment, he raised to his nose; he took deep inhales. His greed consumed him, and he took a pair of your undergarments into his robes.

You pushed open the door to the bedroom, “What are you doing?”

He threw the dresses down, “L- looking for you.” He said as he turned around to the sound of your voice.

“Good. I was looking for you. My father has not returned, and I want you to send someone for him. This is not like him.”

“Right, Acacius.” He broke eye contact with you and moved towards the door.

“Yes. My father. What is confusing?” You asked.

“Nothing.”

“Well, go!” You pointed to the chamber doors.

He stood rather idly, “You…you do not tell me what to do. You or your father.” The emperor spoke softer before clearing his throat. “You and your father do not dictate my decisions.”

“What are you talking about?” You stepped closer to him; that same crossed expression that reminded him so much of your father.

“You are to stay in this room.”

You laughed at the man, pushing past him. “You are speaking nonsense.”

“Guards!” He yelled into the hall. Two men made their way into your chambers. "Make sure she does not leave. One outside, one inside. Her and her father...are working for the rebellion against the throne.” He said almost unsure of himself.

“Rot in hell.” You raised your hand to his face. Before you could slap him, a guard held your arms still; he created a wall between you two. “The worst excuse for an emperor.” He swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth whenever you spoke to him-- whether you were being kind (which was rare) or cruel.

 “She is mad. Do not let her take advantage of you.” He went against his urges and left the room. You hissed at him and tossed a candle holder after him.

“Geta! Geta, come back here! Oh, let go of me!” You hit the emperors guard in his Adam’s apple. “Do not touch me again!” He held onto his neck as he protected the doors. “Talk about disloyal! You know who made you the soldier you are today.” You walked around the room and opened your mother’s luggage.

“W- what are you doing over there?”

“Oh, shut up. You are not going to stop me.” You drew your mother’s sheathed sword from her trunk. “Where is my mother being kept, idiot?” You slipped the leather waistband over your hips and placed the scaffold inside.

“I do not know. M- my emperor says you cannot leave.”

“Then, I will kill you.” You palm settled on the wrapped grip of the blade. You stood at matching height with the solider in front of you. Your eyes were glossy with ambition and anger. The veins in your hands flexed as you waited. Your curves, those eyes, were something dangerous. “Move.” You said softly. Without a fight, the guard pushed the doors open for you. His head bowed in shame.

“He will kill me.” He whispered to himself.

Outside, you snuck behind the other guard and grabbed him by the throat, your other hand pulled his ear. “Shut up.” You pushed on the front of his throat before he soon collapsed onto your body. “Ew.” A slight push and he fell onto the ground.

Through the halls, you snuck into a few rooms before finding the emperor’s lounge. You pushed the door softly and peered inside. Your mother sat alone; her nervous expression alone pissed you off. How could that piece of shit do this? Where is your father? Is he even alive?

After a few more moments, you entered the lounge, “[Y/n]?! What are you doing here?”

“You need to leave.”

“Geta?” You nodded and helped her stand. “I can leave on my own. Do not go home. Find your father and we will meet later.”

**

You followed quickly behind him and managed to cuff his wrists before pushing him up against the black marble wall. “Where is my father?!” You slapped the man across the face.

Geta weakly groaned, “Your father? He must be busy.”

“You lied to me!” You hissed, holding your blade to his throat. “You are a liar! My father is innocent! *You* are evil. Tell me where he is!”

He squirmed as you held him in place, “I am not evil! I am what Rome needs! Your father is a traitor of Rome! He committed treason!” He spat so righteously; you could have punched him. “Sparing the lives of rioters?! Sparing those who betray my rule is an act of treason! If I had it my way, I would kill him now!” He yelled.

“Treason?! He saved lives! Yet still! He did as you said! The riots have stopped, no? My father is loyal to you and the people! He is the only person to care about the well-being of others in this city!” You yelled back, pushing him harder against the wall. “Where is he?!”

“H- he is being held accountable behind bars.”

“Jail?” You cut the man’s cheek, blood left his face and the wound aches. He screamed in your grip. “It’s small, stop squirming!” You leaned into his ear, “You will lead me to him and pardon him…or so help me god, I will have your head.”

Geta trembled, looking away from you. “I agree…”

“If you attempt to pull anything slick…” You whispered into his ear. He groaned at the thought of your threat. You sheathed your sword and pushed him towards a side entrance. “Put on your hood.” He grumbled and threw on the hood before holstering himself onto a horse. You removed the chains from his wrists before you climbed on behind him; with a quickness, you head towards the colosseum.

“S- slow down, please!” You ignored the man in front of you, his hands gripped the mane of the mare. She galloped quickly, and into the arena.

The foul smells of the jails wafted onto your face as you went deeper underground with the emperor. “Acacius.” He said to a jail guard and you both were led to the cell with no light.

You snatched the torch from the guard’s hands before raising it to the cell. Your father lay on the cot filled with unprocessed hay. “Unlock it!” You yelled, and the guard quickly opened the cell. You kneeled by your father’s side, “Father?” He was breathing, he was conscious. However, his unforgiving gaze was on the emperor. The general stood and grabbed the man by his collar, pushing him against the wall.

“A- Acacius!”

For half a second, you blinked, and the sword from the hip of a guard was in your father’s clutch. “You have got balls.” Acacius said, “The people of Rome will not miss you.”

“You cannot kill me! I am the-“

“We do not give a shit.” You groaned, your hand on your hip as you cornered the man. The emperor looked at his own feet, a lost yet defeated expression on his face. “Did you really think I would let you do this to me? My family? You little shit!”

“[Y/n], that is enough.” You father said.

“I am still the man I was when you were on top of me.” The man interrupted.

You struck him across the face, “Shut the hell up!”

“What are you talking about?” Your father looked between you and the emperor.

“Father! I- I did not have sex with the likes of *him*!”

“You nearly did!” Geta looked to your father for a reaction. “More than once, you-!”

The General slammed the man against the wall again, “I do not give a fuck who my daughter sleeps with! Do you understand the gravity of your actions tonight, Geta? Where is your mother?” He turned his attention to you.

“She said something about you knowing.”

The emperor gulped, catching your father’s attention. “What? Are you out of ideas? Someone should put you down. You are like a rabid dog.”

“I am sure the people of Rome will not care if you disappear for a few months,”

“W- what? What are you saying?!”

“Rehabilitation.”

“Prison.” You and your father spoke over each other, “But Father!”

“He is unwell and unfit to rule until he gets help. His brother would never accept the terms of him in jail. I will speak to the Senate tonight.” You groaned, pacing the hallway of the jail.

**

Only a few hours passed before power to the throne was given to Caracalla with your father at his side. As Senate members left the chamber, you sat on the stairs that led to the entrance of the palace. “Did you make that mess in the hall?” The general sat beside you. “The man.” You nodded. “You never listen.”

You stood off the stone steps, “Dad.”

“Geta? Really?”

“He has a very nice body. And he is rather pretty at night.” Acacius groaned, shooing you from near him. The two of you watched as the man was led into a chariot in chains around his ankles. His gaze remained on you, “He looks…”

“I love you.” Your neck recoiled at the words that came from his mouth. The emperor waved to you, “[Y/n]? Will you visit me?”

“You are delusional.”

He shook his head and smiled, “Just once?” You rolled your eyes and walked towards your horse, “Well, I will be thinking about you.” He said as the horses began to pull him and his guards.

“Forget my name, Geta.”

“I could never!”

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[veephoenix]

let me worship you | samurai!noah

Summary: She's curious about Noah's skills when it comes to binding prisoners and restraining... her, so she asks him to teach her. Noah is just trying to be a good instructor, considering skills with the rope might be practical for her, but his princess is a minx and her intentions are a bit mischievous.

can be read as a one shot ✨ but it's part of the samurai!noah fic™ (this takes place before the main storyline) pairing: samurai!noah x his princess | words: 3.4k tags & trigger warnings: set in feudal Japan, forbidden love, clandestine rendezvous, references to f/m intercourse (p in v, unprotected), shibari (bondage, rope play), dry humping.

“You wanted me to teach you, and I’m going to teach you properly. You don’t need to be naked for that.” “Are you sure?”

Author's note: Everybody say "thank you, @somebodyels3" because this was her idea. I just turned her 100 words into 3k. I hope everybody learns something from this piece and that we all go to bed knowing how to tie a handcuff knot... for protection purposes, ofc.

Also, i just edited this very quickly because I wanted to share it tonight, so there might be a bunch of typos. Sorry.

It was just an innocent question. 

            A question that spurred from curiosity about his mastery of ropes and his ease in tying intricate knots in mere minutes.

            When I asked Noah to teach me how to perform those knots, I was still lying on the mattress in my grandmother’s village house. It was past midnight, and I had spent the last half-hour at Noah’s mercy, my hands tied while resting on my own stomach as Noah, kneeling between my legs, held my thighs and penetrated me again and again until, with a contained roar, emptied himself, his release coating my skin.

            I hadn’t yet cleaned myself when, somewhat composed, he allowed my feet to touch the softness of the mattress again and approached my side to untie my hands. 

            First, he inquired about my well-being, deftly unwinding the red rope from one wrist and then the other with his fingers. I responded affirmatively after he gave me a concerned look for my intial silence, as I had been captivated by watching him untie me. Then, he gently massaged my wrists. And that’s when I posed the question. 

            “Would you teach me how to tie those knots?”

            He appeared puzzled, but persuasion wasn’t difficult. 

            When he inquired why I wanted to learn and how I thought I could benefit from them, I shrugged, though I managed to coax him with mentions about the value of knowledge in general and how they might be practical in certain situations, perhaps even for my own protection. 

            Before long, he was between my legs with a cotton towel, wearing a silly grin as he cleaned me, his head shaking from side to side. It was as if he knew I was relentless and wouldn’t cease pestering him until I was content. Because I was aware there was nothing he wouldn’t do for me, and sometimes, as selfish as it seemed, I took advantage of that. 

            “It’s also time that I worship you too, isn’t it?”

            At those words, he froze. His gaze traveled from my core to my eyes. I blinked a few times, feigning innocence, as if I hadn’t been begging him just minutes earlier to be rougher with me because he was always so gentle, treating me as if I were made of glass. 

            “It’s getting late,” he said through clenched teeth, reminding me that our time was limited. “Stop tempting me before I cease caring whether your parents notice you’re in your bedroom or not.”

The next time we saw each other was in the small shelter nestled within the forest, a forty minute walk from my father’s estate and the same place where Noah and I had lost our virginity years before. Noah brought along the rope and offered to instruct me, his demeanour serious and determined despite my occassional mischievous smiles.

            The situation struck me as amusing because I had a singular purpose behind it all, yet Noah seemed to be approaching it way too seriously. But then again, that was typical of him, embodying the spirit of the Samurai he was. 

            His katana rested peacefully on the wooden floor beside the bed, never too far away in case he might need it. 

            “Give me your hands. I can’t teach you if I don’t actually tie you up,” he ordered.

            “Well,” I quipped, “can’t we undress? I’m thinking we could have skipped this part much earlier, considering the amount of times you’ve tied me up already, while I was naked.”

            He responded with a raised eyebrow and a reproachful gaze. 

            “You wanted me to teach you, and I’m going to teach you properly. You don’t need to be naked for that,” he asserted.

            “Are you sure?” I teased.

            “Yes,” he affirmed, holding my gaze until he saw my nod of agreement. “Now, be still and pay attention.”

            I did. I set aside the lewd thoughts, presented my wrists to Noah, and focused on how his hands presented the rope to me, then, how his fingers moved slowly to avoid disorienting me from the explanation as they wound around my wrists. 

            “You’re holding the rope like this, with one end in each hand,” he began. “Start by making a loop with the right-hand side of the rope. You want it to be about the size of your opponent’s fist. Then, take the left-hand side of the rope and wrap it around the loop, going underneath and then over the top. Make sure to leave a little bit of slack, understood?”

            I nodded, committing to memory the trajectory of each end of the rope and gripping it firmly. I remained acutely aware of every instance Noah’s fingertips brushed against my skin. 

            “Next, bring the left-hand side of the rope back around and insert it through the loop you just made, going over the top, like this. See? It creates sort of pretzel shape with the rope.”

            “It’s cute,” I commented, just a genuine thought, no mischief intended. 

            “Not as cute as you look when you’re tied up and happily at my mercy,” he replied, causing me to shoot him a scowful glare. 

            He had insisted I pay attention, and now he was interjecting with these comments. 

            With a chuckle, he pecked my nose and continued his instruction. 

            “Now comes the tricky part. Focus. You’ll want to pull on both ends of the rope, okay? Tightening everything up. As you do this,” he demonstrated, “the loop you made at the beginning will start to cinch down, forming a secure knot. Like this.” He paused to ensure it wasn’t too tight on me. I assured him it wasn’t. Only when he was certain he proceeded. “To finish it off, just make sure everything is nice and tight, and you’re done. You’ve got yourself a handcuff knot. It’s great for all sorts of things, not just to tie up a prisoner. It might come in handy if you ever need to secure a weapon, for instance.”

            I mentally reviewed the steps before nodding. I examined the knot that held my wrists together. I made attempt to free myself, a gesture I had repeated many times before to test Noah’s effectiveness and skill with the art of knots, but the knot didn’t budge an inch. 

            “Can you repeat it again, so it’s clearer to me?” I asked.

            “Of course,” he replied. 

            With the same skill but faster, he undid the knot and freed my wrists. He repeated the process of tying me up, once again indicating each step and having me verbally repeat the instructions.

            “It doesn’t seem difficult,” I mentioned.

            “It isn’t,” he confirmed, still seated on his heels in front of me. “It’s one of the easiest knots. You’ll have it mastered in no time once you practice a bit.”

            “Can I start now?”

            “With what?” he inquired, furrowing his brow genuinely. It wasn’t that he was playing dumb. It was that he literally didn’t conveice the idea that I could practive with him, that I could tie him up. 

            “With you,” I said seriously. 

            He chuckled at first, but as my seriousness sank in, his expression shifted to one of disbelief. Why did he always have to be so challenging? He arched an eyebrow at me. 

            “You want to tie me,” he clarified, more to himself than to me. “A Samurai. You want to tie up a Samurai.”

            “For practice,” I emphasized fighting back a smile that threatened to betray my intetions.

            Noah relented with a resigned sigh, muttering to himself that it was a useful skill for me to possess, so why not give it a try. 

            “How will I know if I’m doing it right if I don’t actually try? And if it’s not with you, who else can I possibly practice with? Would you prefer my first attempt to be in a life-or-death scenario?” as I noticed his expression darken at the thought of such a dire situation and the potential danger it posed to me, I knew I had him convinced.  

            “You have a point,” he conceded, though suspicion lingered in his gaze, suggesting he thought I might be enjoying this more than I let on. With some reluctance, he handed me the rope and extended his wrists, positioning them side by side. 

            I shook my head, causing Noah to furrow his brow in confusion. 

            “I should tie them at your back. If I ever find myself in such a situation, I’d likely be behind the enemy, not in front of them.”

            “If you ever find yourself in such a situation, it’ll be because I haven’t been a good enough samurai,” he replied with a hint of self-criticism.

            “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You know I don’t like it when you’re overly critical,” I gently chided. “Please, turn around.”

            “Hm. Only because you’re actually good at being persuasive…”

            He turned around to kneel with his back to me. He crossed his hands behind his back, interlocking his wrists. I flashed a wide smile as I bit my lip now that he couldn’t see me.

            “I’ll let you know if you make a mistake,” he said.

            “How will you know if I’m making a mistake when you’re facing away from me?” 

            “I know the art of knots like the back of my hand. I don’t need to watch to know if you’re doing correctly. “

            “All right…” I murmured, then couldn’t resist making an annoyed face behind his back. 

            “What was that?” he asked.

            “Nothing,” I replied innocently.

            “Don’t tempt me to turn around and tie you up completely; not just your hands—maybe your ankles too.”

            I sighed, pretending. 

            “Will you relax? Drop that Samurai attitude for a moment. Pretend you’re a captured soldier, because that’s what you are.”

            “Not yet.”

            He was fortunate I was deeply enraptured with him. Otherwise, I would have bound his hands and instead of granting him what I had in mind, I would have left him there tied up for hours without further ado. 

            It didn’t take me more than two minutes, a fact that surprised me greatly given it was my first attempt. When Noah tried to pull his wrists apart and the rope held firm, I nodded in approval, tilting my head to the side with a hum of approval and feeling a swell of pride in my chest. 

            However, the expression on Noah’s face —as he strained to look over his shoulder— told a different story.

            He had doubted my capability, and now he found himself bound and at my mercy. 

            “As I was saying, a captured soldier.”

            “Fuck,” he muttered, a compliment hidden in his words. “That’s a damn good knot.”

            “Are you impressed?”

            “Yeah, of course I—“ his words caught in his throat as my lips brushed against his nape. 

            This was the reaction I had been hoping for. 

            In mere moments, Noah would realize my true intention from the start, understanding that he had no choice but to let me take charge for the rest of our short time together that night.

            “You’re mine now,” I concluded. 

            Standing up, I circled around him, eager to witness his bewildered expression. 

            There it was. 

            He attempted to free himself once more, but soon realized the futility of his efforts. Even if he were the most cunning and well-trained samurai in my father’s army, he wouldn’t be able to break free. He had taught me himself, and I had learnt quickly. 

            “Well…” he began, still maintaining a semblance of composure, “I’ve always been yours, haven’t I?” A hint of sweetness and pride danced across his features and echoed in his voice. He never missed an opportunity to say the right things and make me melt. 

            However, the atmosphere shifted in the next few seconds.  

            “You did a good job. Let’s see if you’re as quick untying me.” 

            “No.”

            “What?”

            “I’m going to enjoy this,” I declared.

            When realization hit him, he tried to stand up. 

            Of course, having his hands bound behind his back wasn’t much of an obstacle for him. In any other situation, he would rise and find a way to free himself, using his legs to attack his adversary. 

            But today, there was no enemy in the room. 

            Only his lover.

            He might have been stronger, but I was faster. 

            Before he could fully stand, I guided him back onto his knees and straddled him, the weight of my body keeping him in place. I was certain no other foe had ever put him in such an intimate position. 

            My hands  found their way to his shoulders, and as I smiled down at him —a gesture he didn’t reciprocate as surprise, anger, and perhaps a hint of pleading flashed across his face—, I trailed my fingers along the exposed skin of his neck. 

            “Untie me. Right now,” he demanded. 

            “No,” I repeated softly, my lips tracing a path along his neck. 

            I could sense he was holding his breath.

            “I was wondering…” I began, my words barely grazing him. “If you would tell me more about your tattoos.”

            “What do you want to… know?” he managed to say after I focused on a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear.

            “Hmm. I’m curious about a few things…” I continued, trailing kisses from one side of his neck to the other, moving upward to nibble at his jaw and peck his lips once. “But I don’t remember exactly what I was curious about, so I might have to see them again.”

            With that, I leaned back slightly, my hands stealthily sliping under our bodies until they found the belt of Noah’s black kimono. He muttered my name in warning, but I paid no heed. 

            Letting the ends of the belt fall to the sides, I slid my hands up through the sides of his kimono until I grasped them and slowly moved them aside, revealing Noah’s naked torso underneath—muscles, scars, and secret tattoos.

            I couldn’t help but bite my lip again. 

            As my palm pressed against his chest, I could feel his rapid heartbeat beneath my touch. Beneath my body, I could sense his erection growing. 

            I raised my gaze back to him and I showed him a smirk and a special glint in my eyes, revealing that this had been my intention from the very beginning, and now he had no choice but to surrender to me. 

            “You’re playing a very dangerous game, young lady,” he warned, though his voice was restrained. 

            “Am I?” I questioned, my fingers tracing down the lines of the snake tattooed on his chest. 

            Bending down, I kissed the creature’s head before trailing kisses along his clavicle, then down, and down again, until I found his nipple and touched it with the tip of my tongue. 

            I noticed him close his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and a vein pulsing in his neck. 

            Taking a long lick at his nipple, I waited for his reaction. 

            With his hands restrained at his back and me straddling him, there wasn’t much he could do. I would do as I pleased for the remainer of the night—touch him, kiss him, adore him, and worship him until my heart was content. 

            So I traced every inch of skin, every scar, and every tattoo without feeling rushed, comitting each of his faults and perfections to memory, adoring them all the same. 

            When I kissed him on the lips, sweet yet seductive, he tried to keep me there by nibbling at my lips. But tonight, he wasn’t in control and he couldn’t deal with the idea. Tonight, he couldn’t halt my movements by seizing my wrists or flipping me over onto the mattress to devour me. 

            He could only let me do.

            And I would do. 

            There was a spot under his clavicle that would hold a love bite for days, a reminder of the promise that my love held. Nobody would see it, but it would be there—a temporary tattoo made not by a needle, but by the suction of his lover’s mouth. 

            As I tended to him, I sensed him trying to find a weakness in the knot, but there was none. That’s what happens when you’re the best at tying knots and you teach your girl, I suppose. I wanted to tell him that, but I couldn’t wait any longer to see how aroused he’d become. 

            Sliding my hands down his chest, I found the bulge in his pants. When my hand pressed against it, palming it and feeling it pulsate beneath, his voice emerged hard and restrained, as if in pain.

            “Don’t.”

            “But where’s the fun, then?” I countered.

            “I swear to the Gods, if you even think…”

            But as he uttered those words, I freed hiscock and watched in awe at how hard it was. 

            “What do you swear to the Gods?” I asked, my eyes locked on his shaft, marveling at its beauty, imagining how warm it would feel in my hand, how wonderful it would feel inside of me…

            His response came out as a low growl, cut off before he had a chance to answer. Shifting my position atop him, I positioned his erection snugly between my legs, tantalizingly close to my core, separated only by the fabric of my own clothing.

            With delicate kisses peppering his jaw, neck, and cheeks, my fingers roamed every inch of his body on display. 

            Not long after, his lips were swollen, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, and his heartbeat quickened. He clenched his teeth, a pained expression crossing his face as he leaned his forehead against my shoulder. 

            “Untie me. I beg you. Let me share this with you. I want— I need to be inside of you.”

            “No.”

            His eyes shot open. 

            My decision was final.  

            “Please.”

            Oh, it was exquisite to hear him beg for a change. 

            “Do you think you can convince me with those beautiful brown eyes? You forget, my lover is…” my lips found their place on his neck once again, “ a Samurai, and he’s been teaching me…” another kiss, “how to be disciplined, resilient, determined, and…” I fought the urge to bite him in temptation, “lethal.” 

            His hips arched instinctively, seeking friction, his hands flexing with the urge to touch me. 

            “Make yourself feel good, then. Please.” There it was again, this time his voice deeper. “For me?”

            “No.”

            He swallowed, realizing this wasn’t going to play out as he desired. Not even a bit. He might as well admit defeat. He was still too proud to do so, though. 

            So, I ground myself against him, a sinful dance, feeling the hardness of his length pressing against me, wondering if I could withstand this much longer before I gave in and untied him, letting him fill me with every inch of his cock. 

            I was on the brink of moaning into his neck, so close to setting him free… But his hips jerked up suddenly, accompanied by a guttural sound, and his head pressed against my shoulder, halting my movements. 

            We fell into silence for a minute or so, his breathing shifting from rapid to slow and steady. His heartbeat beneath my palm was gradually relenting, yet his dick still throbbed under me, slick and wetness seeping through the fabric of my kimono. 

            “Noah,” I spoke, my voice barely a whisper in the confines of the small room we were in, “did you just…?”

            “Do not say anything,” was his reply, stern and cold. 

            Uh-oh. I was in trouble.

            “Untie me right about now,” he demanded, breathless.

            I almost chuckled, amused by the unexpected turn of events. I hadn’t actually contemplated the idea of him coming so hard and fast by just being restrained and having me on top, fully clothed. That hadn’t been my intention, but it was hilarious all the same. 

            However, I knew better than to mention it, especially in that moment. So, I kept it to myself and shifted away from his lap, noticing how his release had stained not only my kimono but his as well, the black fabric now marred with a conspicuous whitish, sticky stain. 

            He noticed it at the same time I did, and I swear I saw fire in his eyes. 

            “Untie me, I said.”

            “Okay,” I replied quietly, moving to his back and kneeling down to undo the knot. “But…” I hesitated, knowing what he needed, but our time together that night was coming to an end. “We don’t have much time,” I acknowledged, finally releasing him. He shook his hands violently, attempting to rid himself of the restraints once and for all.  “I should head back to my father’s ca—”

            “The Shogun can wait,” his resolve was now absolute. 

            And dangerous.

            Before I could react, he was already rising to his feet, his hands reaching out to grab me. 

            “I’m not done with his daughter.”

[sukuna-pyonie]

Cursed To Love You (JJK Sukuna x OC fanfiction)

Title: Cursed To Love You Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x OC || Jujutsu Kaisen anime fanfiction Author: Peonnywise

Summary: A cursed pendant transports Pyonie back in time to the Heian period. What happens when the King of Curses falls in love with a pure-hearted lady from the modern day era? A tale of lüst turned to love that transcended time and space.  ***

Trigger Warning! First few chapters contains themes of n0n-c0n. Mature and dark themes will subside and disappear as the story progresses. I will note if there is heavy tw in each chapter.

Note that this story is purely fictional. Actions, behaviors, or events described in this story should not be replicated, imitated, or taken as a reflection of reality. Disclaimer : All Jujutsu Kaisen characters, settings, and storylines belong to its author Gege Akutami. Pyonie, Takeru Ren and extra characters featured in this story are mine. Any resemblance to real people, other fictional characters, or events is purely coincidental. This work is only a fanfiction and intended for entertainment purposes only.

Chapters: 1. The Pendant and the King of Curses  2. A Predator’s Claim (TW!) 3. Captive by the Monster 4. First Day Far From Home 5. Rewards of a Good Girl (TW!) 6. Beautiful Prisoner 7. Unwanted Awakening (TW!) 8. Bound by a Deal 9. Provoking the King of Curses 10. Deceptive Game (TW!) 11. The Dangerous Escape 12. Change of Heart 13. Cherished Memories (Part 1) 14. Conflicting Emotions 15. Cherished Memories (Part 2) 16. Horrible Secret 17. Pain and Fear 18. Loss and Grief 19. Was it all a Dream? 20. School and Curses 21. The Incident in Shibuya 22. Devastating News 23.

[callsigns-haze]

The ACOTAR Masterlist

- WARNING - please understand that some of my stories contain, gore, smut and other adult topic.

Rhysand

Prison for life..

Summary: Amidst the eerie shadows of the dark woods, YN faces a terrifying encounter with a malevolent beast, only to be rescued by the timely intervention of Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian, whose camaraderie and laughter serve as a beacon of light in the midst of darkness.

You love letters in jail...(part two of prison for life)

Summary: In a moment of passion and vulnerability, Rhysand implores YN to stay with him, but she grapples with the weight of her responsibilities as High Lady of the Court of the Lost Gods.

Light into darkness (series)

In a moment of passion and vulnerability, Rhysand implores YN to stay with him, but she grapples with the weight of her responsibilities as High Lady of the Court of the Lost Gods.

Azriel

Bad Idea, right???

Summary: After a frantic search, Cassian and his companions discover YN and Azriel's hidden rendezvous, realizing that love finds a way even in the most unexpected of places.

Shadows blade (series)

Azriel, finds himself unexpectedly entangled in the throes of love with a formidable Illryian soldier, who happens to serve as Cassian's right hand. As their paths intertwine amidst the chaos of war and the complexities of courtly intrigue, Azriel discovers an undeniable connection with this fiercely independent warrior, whose strength and loyalty captivate him. As they navigate the perilous landscape of their feelings and the demands of their duties, Azriel and his Illryian love embark on a journey of passion, sacrifice, and ultimately, a love that transcends boundaries and defies destiny.

Forbidden whispers

Summary: In the midst of Solstice festivities, Y/N, a spirited Illyrian soldier and Cassian's younger sister, finds herself entangled in a clandestine affair with Azriel, the shadowy spymaster of the Night Court. As their passion ignites, they navigate the dangers of their forbidden love, all while concealing their affair from prying eyes.

His Shadow

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Darkest Whispers

After the tragic loss of their parents, Y/N, Rhysand's younger sister and the newly titled Princess of the Night, falls into a quiet grief, withdrawing from those around her. As her brother and the Inner Circle try to reach her, only Azriel seems to break through her walls, offering her the solace and understanding she so desperately needs.

You're mine

Azriel pins you against the wall, shadows tight around your body as he tears down every defense you’ve built, forcing you to confront your hatred—and the way your body betrays you. With every teasing touch and whispered command, he drags you into a ruthless, possessive storm of desire you can’t escape. You tell yourself you hate him, but as he claims you, body and soul, you know you’ve already surrendered.

Cassian

Say something...

Summary: In the midst of chaos and despair, YN and Cassian's unbreakable bond and unwavering love illuminate the darkest of nights, guiding them through trials of grief and uncertainty towards a future filled with hope and redemption.

Warrior's heart (series)

Cassian, a formidable commander in the Night Court's army, finds his life forever altered when he meets YN, a skilled navigator and trusted advisor to High Lord Rhysand. Despite their differing roles, Cassian is drawn to YN's intelligence, strength, and unwavering determination. Their professional relationship soon evolves into something deeper when Cassian discovers that YN is his destined mate, chosen by fate to be his other half.

Bat Boys

Oh, How She's Changed...

Summary: YN, the immortal descendant of gods, reunites with her friends Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel at a lavish gathering in the Night Court's grand ballroom. As they reminisce about past adventures and observe the antics of other courtiers, they marvel at YN's transformation from an innocent girl into a captivating woman. However, their reunion is cut short when one of YN's guards arrives to escort her away, leaving Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel with lingering thoughts and a sense of longing as they watch her depart into the night.

Eris

Memories Fade (Series)

Summary: Not so long back Rhysand lost his sister. Years after Helion and Elain can raise her memories from the past to see what truly happened to Y/n.

Loves Haze (memories fade sequel)

Summary: When the finally memory hit, the acknowledge of Eris and Y/N being alive only started a new legacy.

All high (2nd memories fade continuation)

Summary: When there's an forced entry in the Beyonds woods is this the last time the Phoenii are protected?

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@kmc1989

@djs8891

@hardballoonlove

@callsign-dexter

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@rosiahills22

@lilah-asteria

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 10 | Mafia HS

After his father's death, Harry Styles must take control of the family mafia while dealing with his unpredictable brother, Silas. He meets Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, and learns about their arranged marriage.

Author's note: hello everyone, I hope you are all having a wonderful week. Here is a new chapter enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

warnings: violence, abuse, cursing

vicious masterlist

Four days had passed since Harry had dragged her down into the darkness of the dungeon. Four long days since she had felt the warmth of the sun on her skin. The air down here was cold, damp, and heavy with the musty scent of stone and decay. Food and water were brought to her, but they did little to ease the weight of her confinement.

Y/N shivered as she huddled in the corner of the damp cell, the chains around her wrists and ankles digging into her skin. The darkness seemed to press in on her from all sides, suffocating her with its suffocating embrace.

Her mind raced with thoughts of escape, of freedom from this prison that Harry had condemned her to. But each time she tried to move, the chains held her fast, a cruel reminder of her captivity.

The days blurred together into a haze of fear and despair. She lost track of time, of how many meals had been brought to her, of how many times she had cried out for help only to be met with silence.

At night, when the dungeon fell into an eerie silence broken only by the distant sound of dripping water, Y/N found herself consumed by dread. The shadows seemed to come alive, twisting and shifting in the darkness, whispering taunts and threats that echoed in her mind.

But despite the darkness and the cold, Y/N refused to let despair consume her. She clung to a flicker of hope, a small ember of defiance burning within her. She knew she had to stay strong, to endure, until the day came when she could break free from these chains and the man who had put her here.

"How long are you going to keep her downstairs?" Charlie's voice cut through the tense air of Harry's office as he paced back and forth, his concern evident in his furrowed brow.

"As long as needed," Harry replied curtly, his attention focused on the packages that had arrived at the house. Some contained thinly veiled threats, others held payments or favors owed.

"Calm down, Charlie. She isn't dying down there," Lex interjected, his voice tinged with annoyance. "We've had people genuinely hurt, surviving for months in those cells."

"She isn't just anyone, Lex. She's Federico's daughter," Charlie retorted, his worry deepening. "Keeping her locked up down there only raises the risk of sparking a war with the Italians."

Harry paused, his jaw clenching as he considered Charlie's words. The implications of his actions weighed heavily on him, the potential consequences looming large in his mind.

"We can't risk it," Charlie continued, his voice firm.

Harry remained silent for a moment, the gravity of the situation settling heavily upon him. He knew Charlie was right, but his pride and anger clouded his judgment.

"We'll see," Harry finally replied, his voice hard. "For now, she stays where she is."

Charlie nodded, a sense of unease settling over him as he watched Harry continue to sift through the packages. Deep down, he knew that the longer Y/N remained locked away in the dungeon, the greater the risk of irrevocable consequences. But convincing Harry of that was another matter entirely.

“What the hell is this?" Lex exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief as he pulled something out of the box addressed to Harry.

"It's a finger," Charlie replied grimly after examining the piece. The finger was meticulously manicured, adorned with a large diamond ring. Lex recoiled, dropping the grisly item back into the box and rummaging through the contents in search of a note. However, there was nothing to be found except for a phone.

"I don't understand. Is it a threat? Did they kidnap one of us? What is it supposed to mean?" Lex's questions hung heavy in the air, his confusion mirrored in the faces of the other men in the room. "Completely clueless about this one."

"Send the phone to be unblocked and searched. Get rid of the finger," Harry ordered, his voice hard and decisive. The situation was becoming increasingly unnerving, and he knew they needed answers quickly.

Charlie nodded, his expression grim as he carefully collected the items from the box. The severed finger, with its ominous ring, was a chilling reminder of the dangers lurking just outside their doors.

After delivering the phone to a member of the IT team, Charlie couldn't shake off the unease that settled in his gut. He knew he wasn't supposed to go down there, into the dark chambers where Harry kept her locked away. The risk was immense—being caught could mean facing the same fate or worse. But he couldn't bear the thought of Y/N suffering such harsh punishment for attempting to escape.

With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, Charlie made his way down the narrow staircase that led to the underground chambers. The air grew colder and damper with each step, the darkness enveloping him like a suffocating shroud.

Finally reaching the heavy iron door that sealed off Y/N's prison, Charlie hesitated for a moment. He could hear the faint echoes of her sobs from the other side, sending a pang of guilt and sympathy through him.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Charlie reached for the latch and slowly pushed the door open. The dim light of a single bulb flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows across the stone walls.

Y/N was curled up on the cold floor, her knees drawn up to her chest as she shivered in the dampness of the dungeon. The sight of her in such a vulnerable state struck a chord deep within Charlie.

"Y/N?" he whispered softly, his voice barely audible in the oppressive silence.

She looked up, her eyes wide with surprise and a glimmer of hope. "Charlie?" her voice trembled, tears glistening in the dim light.

Charlie knelt down beside her, ignoring the gnawing fear in the pit of his stomach. "I brought you something," he said quietly, holding out a blanket and a pillow.

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she reached out to take it. “Thank you…” she began, her voice catching in her throat.

"How are your wrists?" Charlie asked softly, his eyes filled with concern as he noticed the bruises and swelling.

"Painful," Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze fixed on her injured wrists.

Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tube of gel. "Here," he said, offering it to her. "This should help with the pain."

Y/N took the tube gratefully, unscrewing the cap and squeezing a small amount onto her fingertips. The cool gel soothed the ache as she carefully rubbed it onto her wrists, sighing with relief as the pain began to ease.

"Thank you," Y/N murmured, her eyes meeting Charlie's with gratitude. "Why are you helping me? I thought you hated me.”

"I'll come down tonight if I have a chance," Charlie said, changing the subject. "Maybe I'll bring you something different than oatmeal for dinner."

A small smile tugged at Y/N's lips. "I'd appreciate that," she said, her eyes softening with warmth.

Charlie nodded, a sense of determination in his gaze. "Hang in there, Y/N. We'll find a way to get you out of here."

With those words of reassurance, Charlie turned to leave, his footsteps echoing faintly in the dimly lit dungeon. Y/N watched him go, a flicker of hope growing in her chest. Perhaps, with Charlie's help, there was a chance for escape after all.

Later that day, during dinner, Lex burst into the dining room where Harry was dining alone.

"Boss, the phone is from someone named Gianna Rossi. She recently got married to a guy named Augusto Rossi. Turns out he used to attend college with none other than Federico Castellano," Lex shared, handing over the papers to Harry. "There are multiple chats between Gianna and Y/N. They're apparently best friends."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he scanned through the documents, his mind racing with possibilities. "So... it's her finger? Gianna's?" he asked, a cold edge to his voice. “Why would he sent it here? We don’t even know her”

"Y/N and Gianna were planning to escape the night she went out the window and we found her in the woods. But after that night, they've had no contact whatsoever," Charlie explained, his eyes serious as Harry glanced up from his meal. "Apparently this Augusto guy is a real piece of work. I'm guessing she got caught, and things haven't been going too well for her since then.”

Harry's jaw clenched as he absorbed this information. He had suspected that Y/N wasn't acting alone in her escape attempt, but the extent of her connection to Gianna and Augusto surprised him. The thought of her planning this with her best friend, not for some lover, but for freedom from him, ignited a mix of emotions within him.

Regret crept in, unexpected and unwelcome. He had believed her escape was for a man, for love or desire, but now he saw the truth. It was about freedom, about escaping the life he had offered her. The realization hit him like a physical blow, stirring up a tumult of conflicting feelings.

Anger flared first, a hot surge of resentment at her betrayal. How dare she conspire against him with someone he didn't know, someone who could pose a threat to everything he had built? But beneath the anger, there was a hollow ache of regret.

Regret for not seeing it sooner, for not understanding her motives. Regret for chaining her in the dark, cold depths of the dungeon, treating her like a criminal instead of a woman he had cared for in his own way.

Harry stood from his seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor in the silence of the room. He paced the length of the dining hall, his mind whirling with thoughts of what to do next. He couldn't let this betrayal go unpunished, but he also couldn't deny the strange mix of feelings that stirred within him.

The image of Y/N, defiant and vulnerable, haunted him. He could almost feel the softness of her skin under his fingertips, the warmth of her breath against his neck. The memory of their moments together, the stolen glances and shared touches, lingered in his mind.

"Find out everything you can about this Augusto Rossi," Harry ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “I want to know if he has any type of current business with Federico and find out about Gianna’s family and who they are” Lex and Charlie nodded before leaving the room.

Harry remained seated, his appetite gone as he pushed around the food on his plate. The conversation with Lex and Charlie had left a sour taste in his mouth, the image of Y/N chained downstairs haunting his thoughts.

He couldn't shake the feeling of regret that gnawed at him, each bite of food becoming more difficult to swallow. The realization of what he had done, of how he had treated her, weighed heavily on his mind.

The once appetizing meal now seemed tasteless, the clinking of utensils against plates echoing in the otherwise silent room. Harry found himself lost in thought, his mind drifting back to Y/N and the desperation in her eyes.

The image of her chained in the dungeon flashed before his eyes, the memory of her pleading eyes and muffled cries sending a pang of guilt through him. He had acted out of anger, out of fear of losing control, but now he saw the consequences of his actions.

Pushing the plate away, Harry ran a hand through his hair, frustration and regret mingling in his thoughts. He should have handled the situation differently, should have given her a chance to explain herself.

But now it was too late, and he was left with the weight of his decisions pressing down on him.

Harry walked with heavy steps, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a leaden cloak. He couldn't deny the mess he had made, the damage he had inflicted on his relationship with Y/N, and the repercussions it would have on his awaiting marriage.

As he reached the door to the dungeon, his heart clenched with a mixture of dread and regret

---> chapter 11

[redxixi]

~`All ours part 2~`

Part 1

~`Pairing: Viking!141 x reader

~`summary : after the raid you and the rest of the survivors were taking to price's village where your fate awaits.

A/n : OMG THANK YOU ALL FOR SO MUCH LOVE FOR THE PREVIOUS FIC. Since you guys loved the previous one so much i wrote a longer version and i hope i live up to the expectations. Also huge thanks to anon from this post for the idea for this part. AGAIN THIS IS A DARK FIC CONTAINING SHIT. Also my asks are open for ideas

!WARNINGS! : slightly NSFW, simping over john price, being kept prisoner, mention of slavery.

~`wordcount : idk.

Blackness. Pitch blackness. Thats what it felt like. You felt it consume you slowly..bit by bit it was eating everything. All the memories you had, all the times you laughed and cried...it all felt worthless now that you were being consumed.

Slowly you opened your eyes. Everything was blurry at first but bit by bit your vision was returning. You looked around and tried to move only to realize both of your hands were bound by some kind of rope to your back. You also realized that you were moving or atleast you were on something that was moving. You carefully sit up and observed your surroundings. You were in the back of what looks like a wagon with a buch of the survivors from your village, you could see some familiar faces and some bruised and bloodied faces.

"What happend...where are we going" you asked to the old woman that sat closest to you

"The raid happend...everything was destroyed and burned...they took us from our homes and loaded us up onto theire ships like cattle and made us beg for food. We then got off and then they loaded us up here.....our next destination may be our last"

The old lady said with a look in her eye that was a mixture of fear and despair. You remember the killing, the stealing and you remembered the men who did it. You also remember failing to escape...a mistake that would change your whole life.

After what seemed like eternity the wagon came to a halt. You could hear people calling out and children's voices. A village?

"THEY HAVE RETURNED!"

"Look they're back"

"Lord price is back!!"

You heard people and children shouting and praising. Lord price. That was the man. The man who murdered hundreds and led the raid. Why are people praising this monsters return? And why are they calling him lord? Thats when it dawned on you. You were in a village. His village. This is the home of those monsters. You could hear footsteps aproaching the wagon and tried to mentally prepare yourself for what was about to come. It was the man with the skull mask that approached the wagon with keys in his hand. he opened the cage and ushered everyone to get out.

"All of you. Out. Now. "

He said in a stern and terrifying voice. Afraid and terrified of what the man would do they started to get out slowly one by one. And since you were all the way in the back you had to wait until your turn finally came. You slowly tried to crouch walk to get out of the cage without looking him in the eye but just as you were about to jump out you lost you balance and almost fell out. You were sure you were about to fall face first into the dirt but you didnt. You opened your eyes and looked up and saw the masked man holding you bridal style.

"Be careful. You arent going to be of any use if your injured"

He put you on the ground again and you joined up with the rest of the captives.

"Move"

You heard the masked man say from behind you lot. Slowly as a group you started walking. You looked around and saw tents, huts, homes, children and woman. You all walked on the main path with several people staring at you lot with disgust.

"I'd say this haul is fairly successful"

"I wouldn't call only getting weat and goats successful. They had almost no gold."

You turned you head and saw the 2 men who slaughtered your home speaking amongst themselves. One was dark skinned one and the other apears to be a woman. You were so into their conversation that you didnt look where you were walking and bumped into what felt like a wall of a chest.

"Wadda we 'ave here. If it isnt the pretty little thing that tried to run away from us"

You recognized this man with a mohawk haircut and immediately lowered your head as to not offend him. You tried to move with the group so you dont fall behind but he wasnt having it.

"Oh come on now i just wanna talk it'll fun commonnn."

He said in a low sultry voice. His hands then wrapped around you waist and he pulled you towards him.

"This here is my home. What dont you like it?"

He said in a mocking voice. You tried to squirm away from him without making eye contact.

"JOHNNY" you heard someone yell.

"Ah duty calls. here hold onto this for me will ya. I will find you again mkay"

He handed you what seems to be a small wooden plate. Carved into it was the name "Johnny "soap" mactavish". You quickly put it into your pocket of your dress and tried to catch up with you group. What did he want? What does he mean he will find me? Why did he hold me like that? These questions were like the plague. Dangerous for your body and soul.

You and the rest of the survivors where escorted to the back of the camp into what looked like a prison of sorts where you were to stay until you found out what in gods name they wanted with you.

"We can't keep them here without them dying of starvation John. And we certainly do not have enough food to feed everyone. Why did you bring them back here?"

"I have a plan kate."

"Care to share it with us boss" Johnny said as he entered the tent with simon right behind him.

"I will sell them. Easy. Graves informed me that he needed more slaves for his buyers. So we will sell him the survivors as slaves in exchange for more food and weapons" john said with a serious look on his face while sitting on his throne like chair signing some kind of papers.

"Sound good to you kate?"

After a moment of silence laswell sighed then nodded her head in approval.

"Now if you dont mind i have work to attend to" john said as he was getting up and ready to leave.

For the next week or so you spend as their prisoner you seen alot of things. Monsters tho they may be they also care about this village. But at night they are like feral beast. Each night they all have different women and sometimes they dont even wait till night fall. You gathered this much from seeing and hearing things. The masked one is called ghost but his friends refer to him as simon. He doesnt bed a woman often but if he does he is certainly ruthless with a stamina of a horse. The one with a mohawk is refered to as soap but also as Johnny. He is a real ladies man. With him its every night and sometimes there are more than just 1 women. Then there is the dark skinned one wich you rarely see but when you do he's usually hurt or just came back from hunting. Just like simon he sometimes has a woman come with him to bed. He is probably a passionate lover if anything else and then there is the captian. John is his name. Everytime you see him its like something inside you burns. Tall dark handsome. You shouldnt be liking him but you cant help it. It also doesnt help when the woman he beds let out such moans you can only hope to make one day.

You snapped out of your daydream when simon aproached the cage and unlocked it.

"Everyone out now"

Fearing him everyone quietly obeyed and one by one exited the cage. What was going on? Is this the day you would die? These questions where eating at you.

"Follow me" simon said as he walked in front of the group until he reached a small dock with a couple of boats and ships. Simon then waved at one of the ships and soon the crew of the ship started to come to the dock with small boats.

"All of you get on"

"W..whats happening? Where are you taking us" one of the elder ladies asked with fear lached into her voice.

"Your being sold" said the voice from behind us. Price walked up to us with soap right behind him as he started to speak.

"Your being sold as slaves in exchange for supplies. It is only right i tell you your fate."

Your felt your heart sinking and your breath started to get unstable. Sold? As slaves? You can't be a slave? Soon all the captives started to cry and plead for their lives but simon forced them onto the boats until it was finally your turn. You pleaded him for mercy while crying.

"Wait not her" price spoke up and you saw johnny behind him grinning like a mischievous cat.

"Why not"

"Well she will be ours ofcourse" price said nonchalantly to simon. Simon in turn released me and i watched as the rest of the captives where being hauled away. Confused you asked

"Why...why me"

Price looked at you amusingly and smiled.

"A pretty little thing like you belongs here. With us ofcourse. You are ours now. And as for why well.." price looked back at a grinning johnny and continued.

"Someone requested you so as a favour now your ours."

Price took a few steps forwars until he was close enough for me to hear his heart beat. He took my face in his hand and pulled it upwards toward him. Slowly and in a low voice he whispered in my ear.

"All ours."

Ahhh finally done with this part and next part will be spicy i can assure you that and as all ways my asks are OPEN. Also i am making a taglist for everytime i post a fic so feel free to comment if you want to be part of the taglist. Also i apologize for any mistakes cuz english is not my first language. THANKS AGAIN FOR THE LOVE <3