#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.

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 1

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers (Monk and Robot series)

Endorsement from submitter: "Soft hopepunk scifi novellas are just the best shit out there"

Centuries before, robots of Panga gained self-awareness, laid down their tools, wandered, en masse into the wilderness, never to be seen again. They faded into myth and urban legend.

Now the life of the tea monk who tells this story is upended by the arrival of a robot, there to honor the old promise of checking in. The robot cannot go back until the question of "what do people need?" is answered. But the answer to that question depends on who you ask, and how. They will need to ask it a lot. Chambers' series asks: in a world where people have what they want, does having more matter?

Science fiction, cozy scifi, science fantasy, philosophy, slice-of-life, novella, series, adult

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez

The people suffer under the centuries-long rule of the Moon Throne. The royal family—the despotic emperor and his monstrous sons, the Three Terrors—hold the countryside in their choking grip. They bleed the land and oppress the citizens with the frightful powers they inherited from the god locked under their palace.

But that god cannot be contained forever.

With the aid of Jun, a guard broken by his guilt-stricken past, and Keema, an outcast fighting for his future, the god escapes from her royal captivity and flees from her own children, the triplet Terrors who would drag her back to her unholy prison. And so it is that she embarks with her young companions on a five-day pilgrimage in search of freedom—and a way to end the Moon Throne forever. The journey ahead will be more dangerous than any of them could have imagined.

Both a sweeping adventure story and an intimate exploration of identity, legacy, and belonging, The Spear Cuts Through Water is an ambitious and profound saga that will transport and transform you—and is like nothing you’ve ever read before.

Fantasy, epic fantasy, metanarrative, experimental, adult

[baeshijima]

— the weight of a sinner

to bear a sin is a result of consequence, but to bear a sin with no relation to you is an inescapable burden — a means to have a scapegoat and someone to hold accountable. unfortunately, you're one of the very few who seem to think as such.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 3k wc, angst(y-ish), bittersweet, some lightheartedness in there... somewhere, shackling prison/pre-banishment dan heng, mentions of high-cloud quintet, relationship w/ dan feng left ambiguous (but implied dan feng x reader)

A/N : dan heng and reader face inner turmoil just as i do when facing any minor or major inconvenience. (the dan f/heng animated short was looped while i was writing this...)

Your time within the lifeless prison is limited. Lest you want to be caught red-handed by the stationed prison guards or, worse yet, Jing Yuan for trespassing, you ought to hurry. (You have an inkling he is well-aware of your routinely visits, but you choose to ignore the thought. It makes pretending to be none the wiser a little easier when you’re with him.)

Well, that much is easier said than done. 

Shooing away unnecessary thoughts, you continue your way down towards the depths of The Shackling Prison. Blending into the surrounding darkness, you wait as patrolling guards pass by, watching their receding figures with calm eyes. As always, the security towards the bottom of this dreary place is tighter. It’s understandable, really, when taking into consideration who they have held captive.

Eventually, you come to a stop. You take in the familiarity of the surroundings, of the damp smell, of the hollow drips echoing within the walls, of the eerie isolation which encroaches on you.

Several guards hover in front of the cell. A quiet sigh escapes you, though it doesn’t come as a surprise. With the fluidity it takes for you to knock out the guards in one swift movement, one would think the act to be like that of muscle memory. It’s not all that far off when considering just how many times you have done this, on top of your past merits as a Cloud Knight. Now left without any potential risks, you step out from the dreary shadows and make your way through the bars and into the chamber.

Laboured breaths; beads of sweat; a harsh crease between his brows; clothing torn and sullied. No matter how many times you see him in such a state, your heart lurches for him all the same.

With quick, light steps you draw closer. Features you are all too familiar with become clearer in spite of the dingy lighting, but your attention is more focused on the dark, murky wisp festering his soul.

“Those blasted Elders,” you mutter to yourself as you take in the young man’s haggard appearance. “Just what poison have they deceived him with this time…”

His body hangs limp against the metal restraints, ragged breaths wracking his worn body as his expression contorts into one of pain. Dark spots flicker ominously when your eyes skim his body. The burden wrought as a result of the Preceptors’ influence must weigh heavily on his mind if his soul is this contaminated to such an extent. (You dread to think of the lies they’ve been spewing to him about Dan Feng for him to be in this state of conflict.)

Your gaze stops at one particular point, its shadow more concentrated compared to the rest. “They made his soul murkier than it was just a few days ago!” And he’s sustained more bruises than before…

Immediately, your hands hover over his chest. A dim glow distorts the matted appearance of his skin, its shallow light allowing for you to get a closer look at the injuries he has sustained since your last visit. Eyes narrowed at a particularly concerning spot, you’re loath to believe the Elders have even a smidge of humanity left within them — assuming they even had any to begin with, that is.

Amidst your hushed curses towards the Vidyadhara Preceptors, a low groan resounds from in front. The once slack figure writhes against the chains, hissing at the uncomfortable friction the metal must no doubt be causing to his raw skin. You are about to move your attention to his wrists to help alleviate the pain until a flash of colour appears in your peripherals. You blink once, twice. Tilting your head up, you find yourself gazing into an unmistakably striking pair of teal eyes akin to that of the viridescent horns atop his head, the crimson which rests under his eyes and woven into a portion of his hair standing out despite the gloomy environment.

The faint clanging of metal brings you out of your daze. Oh. Right. He regained consciousness.

…Oops.

“You… What did you do?” His voice is hoarse — raspy. There is a slight edge in the gaze he regards you with, a precautionary means of defence. You can’t say you’re all that surprised. Rather, it makes you glad he remains on guard even though he has seen you a fair share of times.

Pausing the usage of your abilities, you cast your full attention onto him as you engage in this rare conversation. “I’m simply here to tend to your injuries and alleviate some of the burden weighing you down.”

(You’re not lying, per se, but you opt to omit the part wherein this selfishness within you merely wishes to save what you failed to before; an unnecessary burden you carry on behalf of someone long gone.)

“Thank you, but why go out of your way to help a sinner? You receive no benefit from this.”

A bitter smile stretches your lips at his words. A striking familiarity seeps within his tone, yet you’re no fool to mistake the man in front of you for someone who no longer walks the path of the living. You’re not like the rest of them who are stuck in the past.

“No one deserves to be shackled by past burdens. I hope that, one day, you can break free from the shadows of the past and live the way you desire. This is your life. No one has the right to dictate what you can and cannot do…” Your fists clench, eyes narrowing into a glare towards the ground. The next words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. “Not even those Elders have the right to do so.”

Silence follows your words. You take that as your cue to resume tending to him; he lets you.

Thinking back, he seems far more relaxed compared to when he was awake during your first couple of visits. He would shrink in on himself when you tried to cross a certain distance, his tail flicking anxiously in response as he regarded you with trembling yet hostile eyes. It’s a stark difference to how he is now. For one, his tail isn’t even out, having retreated when he came to realise you weren’t a threat nor were you going to harm him. He isn’t tense in your presence either, merely watching you do what you came here for with calm, slow blinks.

“Alright, all done here!” Leaning back with a huff, you bring a tentative hand to wipe away at the beads of sweat accumulating atop your forehead. There seemed to be more work than your previous cleanses, but you find the extra effort to be worth it when not even a speck of that murky contamination is left within him. Pride swells within you at your handy work. Haven’t lost my touch just yet!

Now with no reason to stay, you make a move to stand when a quiet murmur halts your movements.

“...You’re not calling me by that name.” When you give him an inquisitive look, he elaborates, “Dan Feng. You don’t call me by that name.”

That name roots you in place. Your mouth runs dry when his name is uttered in that voice, breathed out by that unnervingly similar face, senses growing dull as an all too familiar ache weighs down on your heart.

Your gaze drops momentarily before meeting with his own one — one riddled with confusion and a hunger for answers. “Because you’re not him. You are not Dan Feng, you are you.”

In spite of what all those Preceptors keep trying to hammer on about, how the Vidyadhara High Elder Dan Feng still lives and must face the consequences of his sins, how they have not diminished in power and influence, you find yourself to be one of the few who abstain from such beliefs. How could you not when you were someone privy to his private life, to his wants and hopes, his fears and worries, his dreams for a better future when all was said and done amidst your roles in history.

As such, you can hold your beliefs with confidence.

Dan Feng is gone. Dan Feng is dead. Dan Feng, despite the haunting similarities which stand before you, is not the one you’ve been looking out for within this seclusion. The incarnation in front of you is not the same man you have spent countless years by the side of, nor is he the one privy to the deepest, most intimate parts of yourself only few know of, just as you were with him.

“And…” You pause for a brief second before standing. His eyes follow your movements in caution, though you can tell your words resonate within him (the previous uncertainty which clung onto him is nowhere to be seen, for one). “I hope this is the last time we meet. For both our sakes.”

You lingering around him like some shadow will do the both of you no good, and you would be no different than all the others who hover around him for his status and power. It’s a decision you have long since come to terms with, one you knew would take place the moment you left your house to come here today.

It’s for the better, you tell yourself as you walk away. With this, perhaps you can finally allow yourself to let go of him and the past—

“Wait…!” There’s a shuffle behind you, the faint clinking of metal, a soft curse and grunt following soon after. Upon turning your head to gaze over your shoulder, you find yourself staring into glowing teal. “Every time I— ugh!” A pained gasp escapes him when he struggles too much against the restraints. Before you can reach out and alleviate his pain he merely shakes his head, signifying he has no need for your power. Not a second later, he continues. “Unlike the other blurred or vivid dreams I have of the previous life, every time I see or think of you my mind is calm. I know little-to-nothing of you, and yet, instinctively, I feel safe in your presence. Who are you?”

His words cause your eyes to widen and your stomach to drop. You weren’t expecting him to have some awareness of Dan Feng’s life and your identity, nor for his eyes to shine so brightly despite there being no light. Your teeth clench; your lips wobble. Someone must have tampered with his rebirth, or else he wouldn’t be able to recall even a single thing. You’ve heard some of the ways in which Dan Feng has been described by the Elders — how he is a criminal, a sinner, a monster, one who brought shame to the Vidyadhara name as the High Elder, and how he as his incarnation is no different.

He won’t be able to live this life as his own without being shadowed by the past. He won’t be able to escape the sins and burdens not meant to be carried by his shoulders. He will forever have the name and consequences wrought by his predecessor follow him instead of his valour and achievements, and the mere thought of it weighs heavy on your heart.

A wince involuntarily makes its way onto your features at the recollection; you don’t dare think about the cruelties they could have sneered into the young man’s ears when he was at his weakest and most susceptible to the brainwashing.

When you gather the courage to face him once more, you remember he asked you a question: “Who are you?” Looking into his eyes, there’s a hidden desperation in his gaze which causes your lips to naturally form the beginning phonemes of your name. But you stop, instead deciding it would be best to omit anything that could potentially implicate you with his previous incarnation. After all, for him to forge a path of his own, the past must remain as just that.

And so, with a light smile, you answer, “I’m just someone who doesn’t wish to see an innocent person bear the sins of their predecessor.”

He doesn’t have the chance to respond. You’re long gone from the confines of his chamber, as though you were never there to begin with, and he is left to stare into the abyssal darkness which has accompanied him throughout the entirety of his life. 

The only tell-tale sign of your presence being real is the warmth which spreads through his chest, warding off the dulled pain administered by the Preceptors.

In spite of your earlier words, the shackled Vidyadhara cannot help but to hope your paths cross once more. Whether that be within the tethers of a sinner, or perhaps in the distant future when he’s strong enough to leave his past burdens behind and start anew, he hopes he can talk to you as himself; as Dan Heng.

Maybe then you won’t have that pained look in your eyes when you gaze at him.

--

There’s a slight trickle of rain when you step foot outside into the Exalting Sanctum. It’s a stark contrast to the suffocating air of a cell, though the resulting chill which follows seems to be a worse trade-off.

You ought to have a word with whoever’s in charge of controlling the weather. Or at least get Jing Yuan to have a word with them. They certainly could have timed this better. What’s done is done, however, as chains of the past already begin to entrap you within its cold tethers.

“Forgive me,” you murmur, gaze upturned and blank as your body steadily becomes drenched in artificial rain. “Even your reincarnation will only know you as an emotionless sinner by word of those Elders.”

You must look terrible like this, soaked to the bone with nothing to cover you. You can picture him reprimanding your carelessness with that worried tone of his, laughing off his nags before he ultimately covers you with an umbrella and brings you back to his abode where a pot of hot tea and spare dry clothing awaits you.

But he’s not here to do all those things once more; nor is there anyone in the vicinity, for that matter. It is simply you, your grief, and your lonesome.

“You’re gone. Baiheng’s gone. Yingxing isn’t here. Neither is Jingliu. There’s only so much more Jing Yuan can try to carry by himself before he cracks. Or maybe he already has but remained stubborn as ever, hiding his burdens like always. And I… I’m just a coward who cannot do anything other than wish for the happier days to come back. I just want us to be happy again...” Warmth trickles down your cheeks, a stinging sensation blooming from within your senses. Abruptly, your voice quietens, barely a whisper. “Is that too much to ask?”

Had it not been for that prophecy of depravity and betrayal… would things be different now? Would everyone still be here drinking under the moonlight, telling stories of one-another (both the embarrassing and the emotional), sharing tears and laughter, sparring and honing one’s skills until muscles cried for rest and reprieve?

If you weren’t a coward back then — if you had just said or even just did something — would this all have been a mere nightmare they would tease you in good nature for?

You laugh, humourless. “Hah. What am I doing? It’s not like you can hear me if I talk to the rain. You would’ve given me an answer years ago if that were the case.”

A bitter taste lingers then, ceasing the rest of your words and instead causing you to choke up.

Inhale, exhale. Through the nose, out the mouth.

Having calmed down, your eyes stray towards the outside of the ship, taking in the bleeding hues of purple and blue distorted by the rain. Motionless, you remain in a trance for a few moments.

“...Remember that plan we talked about before?” you begin once more, voice steady unlike a few moments prior. “The one of all of us travelling planet to planet and exploring life beyond missions and the Luofu? Well, I think it’s about time one of us keeps to our word. I guess I should prepare to say goodbye to Jing Yuan soon.” A half-hearted chuckle escapes you at that. Your eyes close and drop with a sigh, a wry smile stretching the line of your lips. “Do you think he’ll resent me for leaving him as well?”

Silence is your only response, and you come to realise the rain has stopped. When you lift your gaze, the moon shines bright through the lingering mist. It’s almost reminiscent of happier days, when you were young and free, only having to worry about preventing a scuffle between Yingxing and Jing Yuan from breaking out, sometimes sharing a drink with Jingliu as Baiheng chattered away about her day. But most often were nights such as this spent together with Dan Feng, wiling away the nights stargazing and reminiscing missions and basking in one another’s quiet company.

It’s about time I move on, too.

With a swift turn you begin the trek home. For the first time in a long while, you have a goal — a hope and a dream to your name. Your mind recollects the young man’s gaze, how his eyes burned brighter than the sun itself in that one instance. Despite your prior words, a part of you hopes you meet once more when he truly discovers himself; for who he really is as opposed to the ghost which clings to his being.

For someone who can still create such an expression despite those conditions, his future is limitless.

(That night, after having packed your essentials in preparation of heading out the following day and penned a letter for Jing Yuan to read in your disappearance, you had a dream. Through your fragmented recollection, you recalled a woman with a comforting smile; a man wise beyond his years; a familiar, yet unfamiliar, young man who wields a calm aura; a cute girl with boundless energy; a stoic-looking girl with unexpected charm; a rabbit-like creature dressed akin to a conductor; and you… you were happy. Happy in a way you never thought you would be again.

It was a lovely dream.)

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

[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.

[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?

[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 :)

[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.”

[777rare]

☀️SOLAR RETURN CHART OBSERVATIONS (PT.1)

Disclaimer :

DO NOT READ FURTHUR IF YOU ARE A MINOR!!

⚠️!TRIGGER WARNING!⚠️

THIS CONTAINS MENTIONING OF seggs,De@th, abu$e, bl0od,alc0hol, dru*gs,so please scroll if ur under 18+ and uncomfortable to read this content!

THESE NOTES ARE ONLY A STUDY OF MINE AND HAS/HAS NOT BEEN PROVEN YET, SO IF IT DOES NOT RESONATE WITH YOU, FORGIVE ME AS IT WAS ONLY A STUDY/OBSERVATION OF MINE.

I DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, COPY OR REWORD ANY OF MY FELLOW ASTROLOGY OBSERVERS POSTS AND I DEMAND THE SAME IN RETURN

Having Pluto in 12th house makes the native fantasize a lot about sex. Can also make the native go through a huge spiritual transformation.

•••

Signs/planets in 12th house can show the frequent dreams you get when you sleep/what you fantasize about that year. (Also check which house is pisces over and check the planets under that sign or in that house.)

⬇️If these planets are placed in 12h/planets placed in pisces or 12h aspecting other planets(check the subjects of other planets as well if it's aspects by the planet in 12h) /under pisces or in the house pisces is over then the things you get in ur dream are :

SUN- light,happiness,fun,kids,celebrities,art,father,pregnancy

MOON- mother,water,home,emotional,waterbodies,beach

MERCURY- garden,pets,work,phones,books,siblings,technology,neighborhood,neighbours,school,friends,trees,greenery,nature

VENUS- money,food,luxuries,fashion,music,art,business,beauty,crush,lovers

MARS- war,abuse,death,nightmares,fire,blood,fighting,sex

JUPITER- college,trevelling,foreign place,exploring,teachers,ancestors,the divine,your guides

SATURN- public,elderly people,chains,traps,cages,prison,grandparents,parents

URANUS- technology,friends,surprises,rebellion,adventure,wings,angels,flying

NEPTUNE- Drugs,alcohol,fantasy world,unclear,mirrors,water,mystical stuff,escapism,feet

PLUTO- sex,intimacy,death,wealth,secrets,jealousy,pregnancy,nightmares,blood,sinister,murder,weapons

CHIRON- things related to your trauma,healing,could show hospitals,forests,nature,ancestors

Suppose you don't have any planets under pisces/in 12th house, Types of dreams can also be seen by which house pisces is over. Ex: having pisces over 5th house, 5th house ruler is sun so the types of dreams you get are all the subjects that are mentioned in sun⬆️ also check which planets that house ruler is aspecting, ex: pisces being over 5th house, ruler is sun so if sun is aspecting moon in SR chart, the types of dreams you get are all the subjects that are mentioned in moon.🙌🏻🌙

•••

Mars in 4rth house/cancer natives can have a very tough time in their family life. Can also show lots of abuse or wounds connecting to your emotions. Family members or you can get pissed off on eachother often and most of the times for no reason at all. Lots of fights and arguments with family members. Anger outbursts. Mood swings. Short temper. Not wanting to be around or not feeling comfortable around family members, especially male family members like your brother, father, etc.💥🔥

•••

YOUR ASCENDANT IN SR CHART IS HOW YOU PRESENT YOURSELF/WHAT AURA YOU EMIT/HOW YOU LOOK

Ascendant in fixed signs- being seen as /appearing :-

AQUARIUS- independent,aloof,cold,unordered,a rebel,unbothered,distant,unapproachable

LEO- boastful,confident,firey,active,angry

TAURUS- sensual,serious,bad bitch,charming

SCORPIO- mysterious,secretive,sexual,emotional,alluring,captivating,dark energy

---

Ascendant in cardinal signs- being seen as /appearing :-

LIBRA- beautiful,graceful,sweet,approachable,kind,popular

CAPRICORN- pissed,unapproachable,sensual,bossy,stubborn

ARIES- confident,outgoing,energetic, a fighter

CANCER- soft,loving,sweet,kind,trustworthy,emotional,caring,non judgemental

---

Ascendant in mutable signs- being seen as /appearing :-

GEMINI- supportive,casual,charming,mesmerizing,free spirited,two-faced

VIRGO- helpful,organized,pretty,charming

SAGITTARIUS- playful,fun-going, jolly,flirt,hot

PISCES- sensitive,soft,day dreaming,ethereal,fairy, a fantasy

This also applies to the MC but it's how others see you.ex: having Taurus MC, then sensual,serious,bad bitch and charming I'd how others see me.

•••

Check the sign and planet over/in your 11th house..that's how you view friendships, communication and your future this year. It can also how your friendships are this year.

Ex: Capricorn over/saturn in 11th house - you could be more serious or mature when it comes to making friends. Can also show you love feeling independent or being alone on your own feet from friendships. Like you know, you feel like you don't need friends cuz you feel really independent. Not saying you'll have no friends at all. You will have friends but you crave independence from them. You dont want to depend on friends anymore. You can also be really serious about your future this year. Can be different if other planets are seated there too.

•••

Always check if fama in in conjunction with personal planets. It can show exposure of that topic to the public or surroundings. Ex: I have fama conjunct moon last year and my emotional life got exposed because of myself due to some addiction issues and I told everything to the whomever spoke to me, I was like unconsciously spilling everything without even myself knowing.its messed up but yes, teachers, friends, most of the people know about my emotions now. I just hate it. And I'm okay now though. No more addiction🙌🏻

•••

where scorpio is in your chart can tell you what do you get deeper into, have a deeper connection with or even have a deep curiosity to find out things in that area of your life, also powerful intense areas of your life that year (check which house it's over, planets under the sign)

Ex: I have scorpio over 9th house this year and I have a deep curiosity to learn about my ancestors, gods and goddesses, history, ditties, guides. I feel powerful in the areas of my ancestors, connecting with God's. Discovering dark knowledge of spirituality like witchcraft,etc.

•••

Check where your capricorn is seated in your chart, which house it's over can show the area of your life, you are more independent, serious or structured. Even formal, authoritative and responsible.

•••

Where your virgo is in your chart can show where you're picky, perfectionist, not easily convinced.

Hope you all enjoyed today's post! Have a great day ahead!🏝💓

Feel free to reblog and tag me when you do❤🙌🏻

[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

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 4

Book summaries below:

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Among the ashes of a dying world, an agent of the Commandant finds a letter. It reads: Burn before reading. Thus begins an unlikely correspondence between two rival agents hellbent on securing the best possible future for their warring factions. Now, what began as a taunt, a battlefield boast, grows into something more. Something epic. Something romantic. Something that could change the past and the future.

Except the discovery of their bond would mean death for each of them. There's still a war going on, after all. And someone has to win that war.

Science fiction, time travel, multiverse, epistolary, adult

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez

The people suffer under the centuries-long rule of the Moon Throne. The royal family—the despotic emperor and his monstrous sons, the Three Terrors—hold the countryside in their choking grip. They bleed the land and oppress the citizens with the frightful powers they inherited from the god locked under their palace.

But that god cannot be contained forever.

With the aid of Jun, a guard broken by his guilt-stricken past, and Keema, an outcast fighting for his future, the god escapes from her royal captivity and flees from her own children, the triplet Terrors who would drag her back to her unholy prison. And so it is that she embarks with her young companions on a five-day pilgrimage in search of freedom—and a way to end the Moon Throne forever. The journey ahead will be more dangerous than any of them could have imagined.

Both a sweeping adventure story and an intimate exploration of identity, legacy, and belonging, The Spear Cuts Through Water is an ambitious and profound saga that will transport and transform you—and is like nothing you’ve ever read before.

Fantasy, epic fantasy, metanarrative, experimental, adult

[vulpisnocturna]

Binding Vow - Part III

This is the last part of Binding Vow 🤍

Part I

Part II

Read on AO3

I do not condone this behaviour. This is purely fictional. Please read warnings and avoid if you find any of them triggering.

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Chrollo being a pretentious bastard, Chrollo mansplains, Emotional Manipulation, Controlling behaviour, Yandere Chrollo, Kidnapping, Captivity, Reader is struggling, dubcon, NSFW

Word Count: 7.6k

You were insane. You were deranged, and spineless and pathetic. Waking up with Chrollo’s arm holding you to him, possessive and stifling as always, you had actually felt good about it. You, the captive, the prisoner, the trophy possession he had decided to steal for himself. You had liked his touch, and had felt comforted by it. You had wanted the moment to last forever, that feeling of being in Chrollo’s good books and not having to fear for his next move. If you just accepted it, liked the physical reaction of your body, did what he wanted, it was so much easier.

The past two weeks after your escape had almost been... peaceful. Chrollo hadn’t punished you, and so long as you sat on his lap, made out with him and spoke to him, he was gentle, kind and lenient. He was waiting for you to sleep with him, not forcing himself on you, even though you weren’t sure you would even push him away. After all, kissing him felt so disgustingly good. Human contact felt so comforting, and you deserved to feel good, right? You had lived in torment for months now, and now that you had a modicum of normalcy, of happiness, it was normal to want to keep it. It was normal to want Chrollo to be happy. If Chrollo was happy, or whatever the comparable emotion was for someone like him, you were safe, comforted, treated kindly.

But this was Chrollo. Did you really want Chrollo to be happy, to show you that shit-eating smug smirk of his? To get what he wanted?

No. This wasn’t about Chrollo at all. This was about you. You were just looking out for yourself. Escape was impossible, and you would not get any mercy from him a second time even if you tried a second attempt. This was about self-preservation. This was about building a life for yourself with what you had. In that way, wasn’t this also brave?

‘Good morning, my love’ his husky voice reverberated in the crook of your neck, and he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, holding you closer, fingertips stroking your stomach. You tensed up a little, but did not attempt to push him away. Good mood. He was still in a good mood. You had learnt to tell his moods apart even though most of the time his face was blank or smug.

He turned you, stroking your hair and smiling at you, his eyes gleaming with some kind of emotion you were unable to name.

‘I was thinking that you have been so good for me lately, darling. I am willing to put behind the whole mistake of your escape if you continue to be so lovely and sweet. And, I was thinking I could take you on a date today. How does that sound?’ he asked, and you tried to contain the way your chest felt light with gratitude. He was willing to take you outside? Apart from your botched plan of escape, you hadn’t been outside for more than two months. You wanted it so badly. You needed it. Needed to see the outside world, needed to stretch your legs, to breathe in the clean air.

‘Uhm- where?’ you asked, still reticent about sounding too enthusiastic. This was still Chrollo, you reminded yourself. Still your kidnapper.

But... he was willing to take you outside. Even if you had tried to escape.

‘If you don’t feel up to it, we’ll stay home, of course. Don’t push yourself’ he said, stroking your cheek. Your breath faltered. No, you needed it.

‘No- I want to!’ you stammered, scared he might just be taunting you. It would destroy you if that was true. But Chrollo simply gave a soft laugh.

‘Relax, darling. I knew it would make you happy. We can go to an art gallery, and then, have some dinner before we come back’ he said, fiddling with the strap of your silk tank top, one of the many flimsy clothes he had bought for you, ‘however, there are some guidelines. They’re non-negotiable. But, if you follow them, you can expect to go on many more outings in the future’

Rules. He was giving you rules. You already had a feel for what he’d say, but you honestly did not care. So long as you got to see the outside world, you would do anything. Besides, trying to escape under his watchful eye would be impossible, especially since escaping when he was supposed to be away for hours had proven itself to be a complete disaster.

‘First, do not try to run from me. You know what would happen if you did. Do not ruin your streak, darling. Second, make no attempts to ask anyone to help you run from me. If you did, I’m afraid I would have to dispose of them, and you do not want that to happen, do you? Third, you must tell me if you are uncomfortable at any point. Do not force yourself to endure discomfort just to be outside. If you wish to go home at any point, we will, no questions asked. Fourth, I want to choose your clothes. It’s only fair, since I know the dress requirements of the place I plan to choose. Alright?’ he said, scanning your face.

You had expected the first two rules, and you did not even question them in your mind. Of course he would say that. But the third? Why would you feel distressed about being outside? It was all you ever needed or wanted. But you supposed you could accept, since it wasn’t going to happen. Chrollo had a nasty habit of picking your outfits anyway, it wouldn’t change anything. As revealing as he could make them, you could put up with it, if it meant you got to go. You doubted his nasty jealousy would allow him to make you go naked outside.

‘Okay’ you only said, and he smiled.

‘Good’ he smiled, kissing your forehead. Again, the fact that you did not flinch surprised you. He had kissed you so much in the past week that now, you saw it as normal. It shouldn’t be. But it was. And it meant you were going outside.

‘We’ll have breakfast outside. I’ll shave and have a shower in the main bathroom. If you wish to have one too, you can use this one. Unless you wish to join me’ he said, voice roguish and tempting, despite the fact that it only brought a grimace and a burning feeling on your face.

‘I’ll take this bathroom’ you muttered sourly. Chrollo did not seem fazed in the slightest as he stretched like a cat and lifted himself off the bed.

‘As you wish, darling’ he said, heading towards the wardrobe. You didn’t even want to see him leer at all the outfits he’d bought you, you didn’t want the anxiety of wondering if he’d pick one of those skimpy skirts that barely covered your ass. So you turned away again, facing the curtains of the wide window that offered a view of the whole city.

‘There. That’s perfect’ you heard, and curiosity (or maybe it was dread?) made you turn again, staring at the sage green dress he’d picked. It was fairly modest for his tastes, you thought. The length was a respectable one, possibly reaching the middle of your thighs, and the top had a cowl neckline that would expose some of your cleavage, but not too much. You were impressed. But perhaps you should have sniffed out the trap, because his other hand was holding matching black bra and panties, both obscene, all lace and barely concealing fabric. You tensed up, your cheeks heating up, mortified rage building up inside you as you glowered at him.

‘Consider this my payment for this date, darling. It’s only my imagination that will benefit from you wearing this, anyway. Unless you plan to seduce me’ he said slyly, smirking at you. You sneered. Of course not. All your physical contact was initiated or brought on by him. You didn’t want Chrollo. You didn’t like him. He was... a prick. He just happened to be unfairly hot. And good at sex.

‘I’m planning no such thing’ you snarled, and he tilted his head, folding the clothes and placing them on the bed.

‘Then I do not see an issue. Of course, you could go without wearing any. Or we could stay home. Your decision’ he said simply, nonchalantly.

Ah. Your decision. The mockery of one, at most.

‘Whatever’ you said, averting your eyes. Chrollo shot you one last look full of yearning before he grabbed a black suit from the wardrobe along with a white shirt and a black tie, exiting the bedroom.

You buried your face in the pillow, unwilling to look too much at the lingerie. Was he genuine when he said it would only be for his imagination? Or did he want you to wear it because he planned to fuck you that night? You hated the tightening of your lower stomach at the thought.

No, you didn’t want it to happen. It was dread, not longing.

You decided to act with the impression that he would not and stood up, snatching the clothes and locking yourself in the bathroom. Chrollo had never walked in on you in the bathroom, for which you were grateful. It was a minimal respect of your privacy, but for someone who crossed almost all of your boundaries with no regard for your say in the matter, it was astounding that he hadn’t picked the bathroom lock to get to you. And perhaps because it was your safest space from him, you had never tried to prolong your time in there or hide in that room, because you did not want him to take away what little privacy you had if he was under the impression you were using it to avoid him.

Perhaps it had to do with his gentlemanly façade, the front he put on, acting as though he was in any way chivalrous. It would ruin that image if he picked the lock of the bathroom to spy on a lady. But coercing her to wear slutty lingerie and keeping her captive were perfectly gallant things to do in his fucked up brain.

Regardless, you were glad to feel somewhat safe as you took off your tank top and shorts, turning the tap and stepping under the shower head. You sighed, trying to make it quick. You found yourself scrubbing and taking extra care in making sure you were pristine, and you hoped you were doing it in some kind of performative ritual because you were going outside and seeing people for the first time in two months and a half, and not because you thought Chrollo was going to see you naked. Although he had already seen you once, and his wandering hands were greedy when he had you on his lap, wearing flimsy silky nightgowns or his shirts. He was like a centipede when he got his hands on you. It felt like he had dozens of them.

When you got out and reluctantly put on the strapless bra and the lacy excuse for underwear he’d chosen, you were both impressed and revolted by the way they both fit you like a glove. How the hell could he know your exact measurements? Though all the clothes he’d ever gotten you always fit perfectly, even though you had never tried any of them before, the fact that he knew the precise measurements of your tits was disconcerting.

And despite how much you might hate him for making you wear that lewd set, you had to admit it was undeniably sexy on you. Which only made you angrier.

You ground your teeth, slipping on the dress he’d chosen, finding that one also fit you perfectly. You even put on mascara and nude lipstick. You got out after drying your hair and putting on the ridiculously expensive perfume he’d bought for you, finding him casually lounging on the armchair by the window, perfectly groomed and dressed. The suit was much classier than his cross-riddled fur coat, and he might even seem a gentleman in it. Well, except for the stupid cloth on his forehead. As out of place and ridiculous as it should have looked, it did nothing to make him look any worse. He only stood out more.

His covetous eyes raked your figure, his lips parting slightly as he stood up, making you feel like prey under his hungry gaze.

‘You look... truly stunning, darling’ he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist and hips, his lips seeking out yours. You were engulfed by the minty scent of his aftershave and the heady, expensive cologne he always wore, creating a mix that had you squirming in his hold as he kissed you, tongue greedily tracing your lower lip. His mouth traced a feverish line to your throat, and he breathed in, groaning softly, making your thighs press together instinctively.

Was he...?

‘Don’t fear, sweetheart. I won’t trap you beneath me and rip this pretty dress off you... though you are so tempting right now’ he whispered seductively against your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe, and you bit your lip hard, swallowing a whimper.

‘You’re a pretty little thing, you know that? Part of me wants to keep you home and taste your lips again and again’ he continued, hand cupping your ass, squeezing possessively. You swallowed, your eyes widening, pulse shooting up.

‘No- want to go outside- you said-‘ you started, but was shushed by his finger on your lips.

‘I am a man of my word, darling. I said I’d take you on a date, and that is what I’m going to do’ he said, giving you one last heated kiss before he released you.

‘Now, for the finishing touches’ he said, heading to the dresser and opening a box. Gold gleamed between his fingers as he approached you, and you stared at the emerald pendant and matching dangling earrings he had picked up.

‘Did you steal those?’ you murmured, and he let out a soft scoff.

‘Does it matter? Which one would make you feel better?’ he asked, gathering your hair and holding it, his head dipping as you stood in front of the mirror, frozen in place as his lips grazed your nape, sending shivers down your spine with the way his stormy eyes were fixed on you.

‘I guess not’ you breathed, and he smirked, putting the necklace on you and straightening it up on your sternum. Next, he released your hair and put on the earrings. You had to begrudgingly admit they were stunning. But that was to be expected. Chrollo liked to steal beautiful things. According to him, you were one of them.

‘Ready, my love?’ he asked, and you nodded. The shoes that were waiting for you at the door were heels, but luckily, they weren’t too high, and did not look too uncomfortable. Chrollo started to get on his knees, and you grimaced, picking up the heels and sitting on the sofa, putting them on yourself. You also took the dark coat he handed you yourself instead of letting him hold it for you. You refused to be a doll he could just dress up. He nonchalantly smoothed his jacket, seemingly unfazed by your rejection as his aura focused around his hand and his blasted book appeared between his fingers.

You stood next to him, and his hand snaked around your waist, holding you possessively as the lock clicked. The book disappeared, and he guided you outside and towards the lift.

Your fingers were trembling at your sides, and your gaze was greedy as it took in the outside world, the people walking by, your lungs filling with the clean air, your skin basking in the pale sunlight.

Chrollo led you to his car, or at least, the one he was currently using, opening the door for you and insisting on holding your hand as you sat down. He closed it behind you, circling the car and sitting down, immediately locking the door. As tempting as the thought of throwing yourself out of the moving car was, you had no intention of trying to escape, but you knew he would always take precautions anyway. Perhaps it was part of the reason why escaping him was impossible.

He drove through the city centre with a hand steady on your thigh except for when he had to change gear, but you could hardly care. Your gaze was fixed on the window, drinking in the buildings, the shops fleeting by, the statues and houses and the people walking on the pavement.

He parked in an underground parking space next to the gallery, once again feigning chivalry as he opened your door and helped you outside. You let him, because you did not want to cut your time short. You wanted to make the most of this day.

There were a lot of people in line, and to your surprise, Chrollo calmly walked to the end of it and stood there, patiently waiting. You stood next to him, feeling oddly breathless, as though your ribcage had tightened. So many people. You hadn’t seen so many people for so long. Their chattering was loud, they moved around you and you couldn’t keep an eye on all of them. Had being a captive ingrained in you the need to keep a watchful gaze on everyone around you?

You felt slightly nauseous.

‘Everything alright, darling?’ Chrollo’s voice came to you slightly muffled, and you swallowed, nodding quickly, terrified he would take you back home if you showed any sign of discomfort.

‘Too many people?’ he offered, and you focused on a spot far away under the stone arcades.

‘No. I’m fine’ you said much too quickly, your legs feeling slightly weak, to the point you had to lean on Chrollo. Was this why he’d chosen to stay in the line whilst he could have paid to skip it? Just to show you that you needed him in the crowd? To take you back home? You forced yourself to stand tall and by yourself, but Chrollo had already tightened his hold on you, trapping your side to his.

‘I wouldn’t want you to fall, dearest. We can still go home, you know’ he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. You gritted your teeth.

‘No’ you hissed, your throat tightening when you heard how hostile your tone sounded, ‘please. I want to stay, Chrollo’ you added, sweetening your voice, knowing his ego always adored the sound of your begging.

‘Hmh... you’ll need to stay close to me, dear. You seem quite fragile at the moment, so I will need you to hold onto me’ he said, his eyes smug and his smirk self-satisfied.

You pressed your lips together, wishing you could debate with him, tell him no, but his rule and the fact that he had the last say were vivid in your mind. It was his fleeting satisfaction over a day of joy for you.

You leaned against him again, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

He kissed the top of your head, rubbing your upper arm, moving along the line. Minutes passed, and Chrollo did not seem to want to let you go, and you did not seem to want to admit to yourself that his closeness, his stable presence holding you in the swarming crowd was reassuring.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you reached the ticket box. Chrollo bought two tickets for the exhibit, leading you towards the first room. You lost yourself reading the brochure, flicking through the different exhibits, your eyes nearly popping out of your skull as they set on Van Gogh. One of your favourite painters, and apparently, most of his artworks were now here for a short time. Had Chrollo known?

‘That is the first smile you’ve shown me that reaches your pretty eyes’ he said, his eyes glinting with some kind of genuine fondness as he stared at you.

‘You knew?’ you whispered, struggling to believe he would do something genuinely nice for you. Not something Chrollo liked, something you liked.

‘That you have a predilection for Van Gogh, or that his paintings would be here? Of course, to both’ he said, and you stared at him, suspicion extending its tendrils in your mind.

‘Are you... planning to steal them?’ you asked, eyes narrowed. Chrollo smirked, tilting his chin up and glancing at you with a sardonic look in his grey eyes.

‘Why? Would you like a specific one? I could arrange that’ he said easily, and you shook your head, disbelieving.

‘No- of course not’ you muttered.

‘A pity. If it gifted me another pretty smile, I would steal all of his paintings’ he said with something akin to reverence, stopping in the middle of the empty room to stroke your cheek, staring intently at you.

‘That’s- wrong’ you stammered, trying to vanquish his stupidly romantic display of affection. He was completely without morals nor did he have any sane conceptions of what was acceptable to do for something as trivial as a smile.

‘Why? Numerous museums have stolen artwork throughout the centuries, and somehow, that is moral? None of these museums paid Van Gogh for his artistry. They are fair game’ he said smoothly, and you stared at him, blinking in disbelief.

‘To you, everything is fair game’ you said. Chrollo smiled, fingers curling on your waist, under your unbuttoned coat.

‘Darling, you are so straitlaced. When you can appreciate something more than the masses, you are entitled to take it for yourself. Beautiful things deserve the right amount of appreciation, which most people cannot provide’ he said, and you had a vague idea of what he was really talking about in more detailed terms as he leaned over you, eyes gleaming with self-assurance.

‘Do you think any of these inane, mediocre individuals could truly love you? See your beauty, appreciate you, know you like I do? I am the only one who can truly give you what you deserve. I can give you anything’ he said in a soft, fervent voice, kissing your cheek, making your head spin with his delusional world views and the headiness of his tone.

‘Do you remember when I fucked you, darling? Of course you do. You were begging and whining for me, for my fingers, my tongue, my cock. Do you think any of these people would know how to fuck you like I do? How to make you scream and sob with need? Or maybe you don’t remember too well. But I will remind you soon. It might be tomorrow, in a few days, a week from now, but you will see. There is so much I want to do to you’ he was practically purring in your ear, voice low and inebriating, full of sinful promises that made your heart drum in your ears and your lower stomach hot with want.

Tomorrow? A few days? Then- he was going to fuck you soon. You felt dizzy, and you were not wholly convinced it was from dread.

‘You’re a creep’ you mouthed, terrified of his effect on you. If you’d been religious, you’d have thought he really was Lucifer incarnate. The temptation of the most beautiful of God’s angels really did feel real when Chrollo made it known what he wanted to do to you.

‘Oh? You think I can’t hear you mewl in your sleep, darling? God, if you knew how much control I need to exert to keep from burying my head between your thighs. Do you dream of me, my love?’ he continued, and your eyes widened, your heart skipping a beat as ferocious shame gripped your throat. No, he was bluffing. You couldn’t have... if he knew-

‘Of my ex’ you said, because he was humiliating you and you couldn’t bear his smug grin and the satisfaction and hunger you could hear in his voice.

Chrollo’s grip on you tightened, and he straightened up, his eyes burning with jealousy, but his lips curled in a nasty smirk.

‘Little liar. We’ll see’ he said, voice thick as honey, and you shivered, hugging your body as you went to look at the paintings. Chrollo followed you leisurely, like a shadow. It was as though there was a string connecting the two of you. Where you went, he was right behind you, if not already touching you.

The paintings in the first five rooms were the oldest, with gold painted on religious imagery, ugly infants and static anatomy. Still, your eyes drank the paintings in like you were dying of thirst, looking for the beauty in a world where Chrollo was the dealer of what you were allowed to see.

When you stopped for more than half a minute to stare at a painting, you had already walked through ten rooms, ignoring Chrollo’s pretentious chiming in with random historical facts and art lessons.

It was beautiful. No. That wasn’t right. It was petrifying. “Judith beheads Holofernes”, the silver plate read next to it. Artemisia Gentileschi. A woman.

There were two women and a man in the painting. One of the women was holding down the man onto a bed, whilst the other one was in the middle of slicing his head with a sword.

The world seemed to stand still as your eyes wandered around the canvas, taking in the colours, the skill, the beauty of it. But it wasn’t the artistic skills of that painting that mesmerised you. No, it was the rage. It was the sheer disgust, revulsion and fury that seeped through the blood trickling down the mattress and spurting in the air, spattering her dress. Punishment. Vengeance.

‘How macabre’ chimed in Chrollo, obviously unperturbed by the gore of the painting, ‘I did not know you had a bloodthirsty side to you, darling’

You ignored him. You’d felt that rage. That need for retribution. You knew what it was for.

‘I hope you’re not picturing doing that to me’ he said, and then sighed, stroking your hair, ‘Artemisia Gentileschi. She was raped by her father’s friend, and though she was tortured, she maintained her story throughout the trial that followed, which resulted in the conviction of her rapist. Her paintings do seem to reflect her exacting vengeance on him’

You looked at the woman in the painting, silently recognising her strength, standing in awe of it.

‘I could steal it for you if you like it so. Though I would not want you to get fanciful ideas’ he said. You couldn’t help but scoff. You could not say you were in the same position as Artemisia had been, but you understood the sentiment well. At times, you had wanted to behead Chrollo with a broadsword and bathe in his blood.

Who would have guessed that now, he was your only source of solace. That you did not shy away from his touch, that you dreamt of it.

‘I’d rather you stole me a broadsword’

‘As captivating as the sight of you brandishing one would be, I’m afraid I cannot do that’ he said, and you nodded absentmindedly. Obviously.

Chrollo bought breakfast at the art café, and you resumed the visit after that.

But nothing else captured your mind like that one painting. Well, until you got to the room where Van Gogh’s painting were displayed. If Artemisia’s paintings had filled you with respect and petrified you with their rage, Van Gogh rooted you to the spot with the sheer emotion of his art.

You could not stop yourself from smiling, and your eyes shone bright. You didn’t even care that Chrollo was staring at you like a hawk.

Again he offered to steal them for you. You denied wanting that, telling him that you wanted as many people as possible to bask in the beauty of them, and that you wanted them to acknowledge a painter who had never been appreciated in his lifetime.

‘You are so sweet, my love’ he said, holding you to him.

You weren’t sure you would not find Van Gogh’s sunflowers staring at you the next morning.

By the time you were finished with the visit, you were ecstatic. Yes, you had had to endure Chrollo’s centipede hands throughout the day, but you had seen so much, and felt alive. And he hadn’t even been too stifling.

‘I- thank you, Chrollo’ you said once you were back in the car, hoping this would happen again. He turned to you, staring at you, his usually cold grey eyes shining with warmth, his smile, for once, genuine.

‘It was my pleasure, darling’ he said, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, devoid of the hunger that usually seeped through them. One that, if you ignored the past two months and a half, would have you swooning.

He smiled against your lips, planting a kiss on your forehead and pulling out of the parking spot.

The restaurant he’d chosen was just as luxurious as you had expected from someone like him. He sat in front of you in the secluded booth, reading the menu. You did the same, tempted to get the most expensive thing just to put an indent in his wallet. Though it probably would be pocket change to him. And if not, he could always arrange stealing something to make up for the loss.

He ordered Cabernet, and you considered getting drunk to make the date with your kidnapper less awkward. But you didn’t think he’d let you down too many glasses of wine.

Still, you sipped it avidly, glaring at him when he scoffed.

‘Darling, am I such bad company that you have to drown your sorrows in wine?’ he asked, clearly a rhetorical question.

‘Yes’ you said, and he let out a soft laugh.

‘Are you sure you want to inhibit your senses around me? Considering I’m such bad company?’ he mused, sipping his wine, his pretty lips stained blood red. You put the glass down, scowling and going back to deciding what you wanted to eat.

You settled for steak, surprised to see he ordered the same. You had expected him to get something pompous like lobster.

The meal was undeniably amazing, even though Chrollo had taken it upon himself to interview you about what you’d thought of all the paintings, clearly trying to exhibit his own knowledge, which turned into you trying to one-up him. That might also have been a ploy from his part to get you to argue with him.

‘Interesting. When you’re not so nervous, you’re quite self-assured, darling. Perhaps the thought of being seen as less knowledgeable than I am is unbearable in your mind. Is it to do with sexism? I assure you, the fact that you’re a woman makes no difference to me in terms of your intelligence. Which is, of course, of the highest degree’ he said, and you groaned, staring at him and taking another gulp of Cabernet, even though no amount of wine could save you from him dissecting your brain and being pretentious.

‘Don’t psychoanalyse me. And stop trying to be a feminist icon to impress me. It rings hollow after what you have done’ you said, thinking yourself bold with your quips. Perhaps you should settle down. After all, this was still your mass murdering captor.

‘Ah. I treat you with the highest regard, my love. It wounds me to hear you be so bitter when this day made you so happy. Have I not earned some affection from your part by spoiling you today? Perhaps you need more from me’ his eyes took a lustful light, and you squirmed, shutting up. Which only earned you a smirk.

Once the bottle of wine had been finished, Chrollo got you water, claiming he did not want you to get drunk. You eyed the price on the bill, astonished that one meal could cost so much. But he merely swiped his card and closed the leather case that hid it from view, standing up and offering you his hand. You got up, walking with him outside.

The ride home was fairly silent, because you did not look forward to be back not knowing when you would get another chance at seeing the outside world, and Chrollo was focused on driving and palming your lower thigh. You looked at the sunset, lost in the orange and purple hues, completely enraptured by the beauty of it. It would be nice to stay out for a while longer, but you knew not to push the buttons. He had said art gallery and dinner, and that was what you had done. Now it was time to go home.

You wondered if he would make you sit on his lap and kiss him again tonight, as he’d done since your escape attempt. Somehow, the thought made you hot all over. Well, he had certainly seemed keen enough at the gallery, you thought, your cheeks hot.

Chrollo parked the car, leading you to the lift and back to the flat, where he locked the door with his stupid book and discarded his coat, taking yours off. You slipped off your heels, your feet sore from a day of wearing them, and started to head to the bathroom to change. If he wanted to make out with you, he could wait for you to get comfortable, as loosely as that word could be used in such a situation.

You had made it to the bedroom when Chrollo caged you in his arms, pulling you into him from behind you, getting your hair out of the way to leave languid kisses on your neck, his hands splayed on your stomach. You stopped dead in your tracks, giggling nervously, already feeling the effects of the wine and Chrollo’s touch getting to you.

‘Uhm- let me change-‘ you muttered, your eyes fluttering close when he started sucking on the junction of your clavicle.

‘There’s no need. I’ll peel it off you soon enough, darling’ he breathed against your ear, voice intoxicating, deep and sultry, and you squirmed, your heart rate going through the roof with the realisation that he wanted to sleep with you now. God.

No, you had to push him away. That was the right thing to do, right? He was... Chrollo, and his tongue was following your artery, and it felt like hell and heaven had combined, and you couldn’t think...

‘I’m tired of waiting. I am going to show you just what I can make you feel, darling. I’ll be so good to you’ he said breathily, hands cupping your breasts, fingers grazing your stiffening nipples. You choked a whimper, torn between the overwhelming pleasure and the equally crushing shame.

He groaned against you, pushing himself against your ass, earning another strangled yelp from you when you felt the hard bulge of his erection against it.

He whispered your name like a prayer, turning your head and kissing you hungrily, teeth sinking in your bottom lip, sucking, licking while he fisted your hair and turned you around, pulling you more into him.

Your mind seemed to shut off completely, taken over by the desire that had accumulated in weeks of torturing make-out sessions with no reprieve, to the point where your body was burning and aching for his touch, and nothing else mattered except the taste of wine in his mouth and the grip he had on you.

He pulled back, pupils dilated and eyes dark with lust, gaze lingering on your lips as he pulled down the zipper on your ribcage, greedily devouring you with a mere stare as you stood there, rapt and consumed by desire, your mind a blur.

He lowered the straps of your dress, pulling it down until it pooled at your feet. You burnt as his eyes trailed down your body, shameless and ravenous.

‘That’s even better than what I had imagined. Oh, darling, if you knew...’ he groaned, his hands immediately splaying on the expanse of your back, trailing down to squeeze and knead your ass harshly while his mouth was busy sucking on your neck, making you whimper as you clung to his shoulders.

He pushed you towards the bed, pulling you on his lap. You straddled him, utterly deranged with pleasure as he licked the valley of your breasts, grinding you on his lap. You let out a moan, pulling at his hair, which only made him rougher as he slapped your ass and gripped it, sending a surge of pleasure to your clit.

‘Get on your knees for me, darling. I want those pretty lips wrapped around my cock’ he groaned against your ear, and you swallowed, shame making your face burn. It was one thing to go with the flow and let him do things to you, quite another to actively pleasure him. But you would be a liar if you said the thought did not make you wet. And it was all unfair and humiliating and yet, and yet...

You pressed your lips together, yelping when your bra ripped under his hands and he threw it away.

‘I’ll buy you another one’ he groaned, pinching your nipples and sucking one into his feverish mouth, grazing it with his teeth until you were rutting against him, your hands cradling his head.

‘On your knees now, sweetheart’ he pressed, and you breathed in shakily, lowering yourself from his lap onto the floor, swallowing your shame as Chrollo stared down at you, taking off his jacket and shirt, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling his cock out, stroking it in his hand. Degrading as it was, infuriating as it was, he was so unfairly attractive. From the expanse of his toned stomach to the thick cock in front of you to the unruly hair that framed his face and the lust-laden grey eyes boring into you.

He let go of his cock to gather your hair into his fist, stroking your cheek and your bottom lip, pushing his thumb inside. You hesitantly sucked it, pressing your tongue against it, and he smirked, eyes gleaming with ravenous lust as he pulled it away and you wrapped your much smaller hand around the base of his cock, unable to touch your fingers with your thumb.

You stroked him, looking up at him as you tentatively licked the slit at the tip, and he let out a soft moan, his lips parting as his fingers tightened around your hair.

Emboldened by his reaction, you wrapped your lips around the reddened tip, tongue twirling around it.

‘Good girl, keep your eyes on me’ he breathed, looking dishevelled for the first time as you sank further in, licking the underside of his cock, hollowing your cheeks.

‘Fuck’ he groaned, his hips twitching, to the point where he reached the back of your throat and you choked a little, breathing hard through your nose. You weren’t even two thirds of the way in.

‘You can take it, darling. You’re doing so well. You look ravishing’ he praised, and you pushed a little more, tears starting to sting in your eyes, your lips wet with saliva as you struggled to keep your eyes on him.

You got a little more used to his size, and you managed to take a little more. What you couldn’t take with your mouth you made up for with your hand, rotating it slightly as you pulled back and forth on him, watching him start to breathe more unevenly, his eyes narrowed, the skin of his neck slightly flushed.

‘That’s my girl. You’re such a pretty little slut for me. I knew it’ he taunted, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but moan, continuing to pleasure him though it killed your pride.

He started to guide your head, not too forcefully, but he was definitely getting more eager as you picked up the pace and sank to his pelvis, tearing a breathless moan from him that made your panties even more soaked than they already were.

‘Oh, darling. My good girl. Fuck- I’m close. Keep going, and swallow, m’kay? Going to make you feel so good after, I promise’ he huffed out, and you hollowed your cheeks, struggling to breathe, tears running down your face as you kept going, until he stilled, his eyes closing, head facing the ceiling as he came in your mouth with a soft moan.

You swallowed heavily, panting as he slipped out of your mouth. He stared at you for a few seconds, his lips parted, his eyes narrowed with pleasure, before he pulled you up by your arm and threw you underneath him on the bed, kissing you, his hands roving down your body.

‘Such a good girl- let me return the favour, my dear’ he breathed, sucking on your nipples, straying down your stomach and spreading your thighs. You stared at him, panting and hot all over as he pressed his nose against your clit, licking a wet stripe along your labia over the wet lace of your panties. You let out a breathless moan, hips jerking against him, and he let out a soft groan, smirking at you.

‘How I missed this’ he murmured, pulling on your panties until they ripped, clearly unfamiliar with just slipping them off. But your quips were soon forgotten when he flung one leg on his shoulder and dipped his tongue inside you, kneading your ass as he flicked your clit and rolled it in his tongue.

You pulled at his hair, your hands catching onto the cloth of his forehead, which fell on you. He tossed it away, sucking on your clit, his hand snaking between your thighs, two fingers dipping inside you and curling, making you arch your back and let out a loud moan.

He started thrusting his fingers in and out, dragging them along your walls, his mouth keenly occupied with your clit, until you couldn’t take it anymore and started convulsing underneath him, trembling as he pinned you down and forced you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

He switched his mouth and fingers, his tongue slipping inside you, tasting you, his fingers rubbing and rolling your clit through the comedown of your orgasm, until you pushed him away when you started feeling too sensitive.

He wiped his chin with his mouth, sucking his fingers clean and smirking at you, the picture of debauchery as he gave you a sultry look.

He took off the remainder of his clothes, turning you on your stomach and lifting your hips.

‘Does my pet want a rough fucking? You deserve it, after all. You’ve been so patient, squirming on my lap for weeks’ he said against your ear, gripping your hip, his free hand wrapped around your throat.

You only moaned, and he must have been satisfied, because he pushed inside you, tearing a loud whine from you and a grunt from him.

‘Fuck, darling. You’re just made for me, aren’t you? Look at how you’re taking my cock, sucking it in, throbbing around it’ he murmured, immediately bottoming out and thrusting back in unrelentingly, making you tremble underneath him, your head dizzy, your face pressed against the mattress as he pounded into you, pressing into your g-spot straightaway, making you whine and keen for him. It was too much, all at once. You felt him everywhere, consuming you, making you see stars.

‘Chrollo- fuck- too much’ you sobbed, but he did not relent. He slammed against you with reckless abandon, long fingers still wrapped around your throat, his pants and groans echoing your louder cries.

‘You can take it, little slut. You’re my little slut, mh? Your pretty little cunt’s squeezing around me... could it be that you like that, darling? How filthy’ he taunted, but he sounded breathless and full of desire, and it made you feel obscene, yes, but also so so wanted. You had secretly longed for this for weeks, and now, you needed to feel him, needed to cum so badly.

But he slipped out of you and turned you on your back, slipping back into your sopping cunt and lifting your knees to your chest, pressing his body over you.

‘Fuck- Ahh- gonna cum!’ you sobbed, the new position rendering you completely helpless to his rough fucking that pressed against your g-spot and grazed your cervix, making you quiver underneath him.

‘Cum for me, darling. Show me how much you need me to fuck you’ he breathed, and you thrashed your head side to side, tears disappearing on either side of your hair, your mouth open in a silent scream as you came undone, seeing white, sounds fading completely around you, leaving you feeling only pleasure for a moment that felt like several minutes.

Chrollo grunted, cursing loudly, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss and drowning your moans as his hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking, his fingers curling on your flesh, sure to leave bruises as you felt warmth flood inside you.

He continued to push for a few seconds, head buried in the crook of your neck before he stopped moving. Your legs collapsed on the bed, and you struggled to calm your breathing, your throat dry, your arms loose around his back.

He rolled over to his back next to you, his breath starting to come out evenly even though you were still panting.

‘You were perfect, darling’ he murmured, stroking your hair, pulling you into his arms. You stared at the open window, the night skyline staring back at you with its blue lights and orangey glow from the windows of the buildings on the other side of the street.

Was this a life you could live? You did not know. The only thing you knew was that Chrollo had won.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Is it just me or does Burning Spice give me a lot of possessive yandere vibes?

Wait, hear me out: Yan! Burning Spice x Golden Cheese.

You're right on the money, brother 🙌🙌🙌 You understand completely.

One-sided BurningCheese can't NOT have Spice be a yandere. That level of pure evil, plus all that suspicious behavior I outlined in my ship masterpost? Foregone conclusion, practically. She didn't just steal his Soul Jam, she stole his fucking sanity. She's the air that he breathes. The blood pumping through his veins. She's the only reason he's got left to live. The ultimate truth of the universe is that they were destined from the moment she took his Soul Jam. He belongs to her, and she belongs to him. It's as simple as that.

That hooded subordinate that tagged along with her to Beast-Yeast? The only reason he's still alive is because Spice was too busy focusing on his beloved. He HATES that little worm. He wants his head on a pike YESTERDAY. How dare he look at her? How dare he speak to her? How dare he smile and laugh and reminisce with her? This won't do. No, no, no.

Her friends, the other heroes? Absolutely not. Where were they when she lost everything? While she succumbed to grief and delusion for all those years? When she awoke in empty ruins? HE was there, in a way. By her side, through their connection via the Soul Jam. He's already done so much for her. She's always been in his thoughts, in his heart. The only thing keeping him going inside that prison was her. The thought of her. Her image, her voice, the unspoken promise between them... That promise to finally meet, to battle, to become one. Did THEY do anything like that for her? Did THEY hunger for her day and night like he did? Like he still does? She doesn't need them, they're all failures. They're WEAK. He isn't.

Her kingdom? Her people? All dead, you say? Slaughtered like pigs, stitched back together and stuffed into golden caskets in a feverish, feeble attempt at self-soothing? GOOD. She doesn't need them, either. WEAKLINGS. FOOLS. Had it not been that vile witch, it would've been him instead, because he can't stand the thought of her caring for anything and anyone else but him. She was enough for him, she was his entire world, why can't he be the same to her? How could anyone else understand her? Love her? Please her? HE can do those things. HE knows her, HE loves her, HE wants her, HE needs her, more than any of them ever did or ever will.

He broke out of prison for her. He sent his soldiers on a back-breaking hunt for her. He waited, and waited, and waited - in that tree, in that container, in his tomb, on his throne, for hours and hours and hours, for her. Just for her. He'd NEVER waste a single second of his time like this for anyone else. No one's ever captivated him like this before. Inspired him, hypnotized him. Not even when he was still a hero. She's different. She truly is a goddess. HIS goddess. They're two halves of one whole. So different, but so much alike in so many ways. It is destiny. THEY are destiny.

And if he has to resume his reign of terror, if he has to crush every spice under his command, if he has to comb every inch of Beast-Yeast- no, the WORLD - in search of her, if he has to raze what little remains of her civilization to the ground, if he has to rip all of her friends to pieces, if he has to beat that absolute truth into her himself, then SO FUCKING BE IT!

Haha delusional mass murdering stalker go brrr

Hope this unwarranted writing ramble satisfies you lol