#whispered secrets: morbid obsessions

[hiddenobject-fanblog]

His Soul (Chapter 21)

Separated

Summary: After saving the abducted collectors, you were trusted with Curioso's box. What seems like a dangerous possession slowly turns into an opportunity to learn more about this creature and his curse. Can you earn his trust, and possibly, his affection?

Pairings: Curioso/Reader, Curioso/The Detective

--

After the dessert course was finished, you were dragged into a crowd which led you into the recreation room. Everyone around you started games of cards, pool, darts, and pinball. This was the only normal part of your time here, as no one bothered using their magic to push their cue sticks and press buttons on a machine. You assumed there was an unspoken rule here forbidding any sorcery, to prevent anyone from cheating. 

With those expectations out of the way, you were not asked to perform any more tricks or show off your ‘fire’. Instead, you did your part having conversations with other club members. You tried asking about what was going to happen to you tomorrow morning, but everyone you talked to refused to spill their big secret. You’d even tried learning the source of this club’s wealth, but they were incredibly modest about their exorbitant lifestyle. 

Curioso was silent during your time there. You knew he was trying not to interrupt or distract you…but it made you feel strange. It seemed like he had talked too much when the two of you started working together, but now it was like something was missing. As if Curioso’s commentary was essential to your investigation.

“Are you still there?” you asked your sleeve quietly while the rest of the room was starting their poker game. 

“I am,” he whispered back. 

You relaxed on the stool you were sitting on. It was such a ridiculous thing - he promised not to leave your side, yet here you were thinking he’d be elsewhere with better things to do. You needed to focus. 

When their heads were clearly wrapped in their game, you took this opportunity to leave, claiming you were exhausted and wanted to head back to your room. No one questioned you as you quickly exited the room and sped down the hallways. You didn’t want to get stopped again and roped into doing something else. For now, you were going to bide your time until the night got late enough and you were positive everybody was asleep. These people had to rest sometime .

--

You were alone again in your room with Curioso, who sat across from you and presented some new cards you’d never seen before. You figured playing a game or two together would help the time fly by. You had a cup of coffee at your side that you sipped from, to help you stay awake for the long night ahead of you. 

You blinked curiously at him as you read the name of the pack in his hands.

“ Skip-Bo ? Never played it before,” you drummed your fingers on the table as he shuffled the cards. 

What a sight that was - it almost looked like each card was moving by itself as he performed a riffle and bridge shuffle. Your eyes were locked on his hands as they did their magic. 

“It was the only game my family ever wanted to play with me,” he bowed his head as he arranged the cards. “Probably because I wasn’t very good at it, so they had an easy win.”

“Huh,” you eyed your hand of cards that he gave to you. They were different colors and numbers, reminding you of a game more familiar to you. “Most families play Uno . Ever heard of it?”

“The kids at school played that one. I was never…invited into those games,” his voice softened as he took off his top hat and faced you, “This is like a solitaire card game. It’s a little complicated at first, but you’re smart, so you should get the hang of it pretty quickly.” 

You smiled modestly, and spent the next hour or two learning how to play this new game between you and Curioso. It involved a lot of counting and thinking, so your mind was constantly working. After some point, it was easy to forget that you were supposed to be by your lonesome, as you stopped listening for any footsteps by the door and allowed yourself to be completely engrossed in his company. 

It was so easy to fall into a comfortable state when you were around him. You’ve been on so many cases by yourself with no one to help or accompany you. Now that you had a friend who was always close by, it was hard to feel alone anymore. Curioso was incredibly pleasant as a companion - as he did a good job keeping you busy and often made you smile and laugh. You no longer felt any tension or weariness from your early days with him…he had your complete trust and attention now. 

Judging by his eagerness to spend this time with you, you assumed the feeling was returned. 

“Those kids missed out for sure,” you sniffed as you watched him make his final play. “You’re a lot of fun to play with.” 

“I don’t recall you feeling this way the last time we played Monopoly ,” he grinned. 

“Yeah, well, that game can tear people apart. You’re lucky we’re still talking after that stunt you pulled.” 

He laughed, collecting the cards and allowing them to disappear in thin air. “And you’re a lovely opponent yourself. I’m honored to play with you.” 

You looked away, but allowed the smile to remain on your face. He complimented you so often you wondered if you would ever be close to returning the favor to him. “I’m sorry your childhood was so lonely. If it makes you feel any better, I was the last one picked for all the field games.” 

He tilted his mask at you. “Was it because you were a nerd?” 

“What? No ! I was…just that weird kid who took a lot of pictures with my camera my dad gave to me, and made a big deal about missing jackets or people going to the bathroom for too long.” 

Curioso almost sounded proud. “You grew up to be a detective.” 

“Yep,” you puffed your chest out in pride. “I played a lot of Clue back in those days. I’ve settled a lot of disputes and mysteries during recess.” 

Your friend looked down at the table, drawing imaginary lines into the wood with the tip of his mechanical finger. “I never knew what I wanted to be when I was young. Never really…had the chance to do what I wanted.” 

Your smile fell as sympathy washed over you. “...You were taken pretty early, weren’t you?” 

“I was thirteen. The only thing I really liked to do was make sculptures and doodle on my homework. Maybe if I had gone to high school, I would have joined art class. I don’t really know.” 

You frowned as you watched his hands move. Again, you found yourself wishing you could have saved him in time. Done something. “Well…you make a fine partner to a detective. You’re a good investigator.” 

“It’s funny, I would have never imagined myself doing any of this.” 

“I mean, you were the one who wanted to join me and read all about my investigations. Maybe you had an interest in all of this without really knowing it.”

“Or maybe I was just interested in you ,” he countered. 

The blood rushed to your face. “Ah…but why would…” you refused to see his mask as you sat there not knowing how to react. You stood to your feet slowly. “What time is it?” 

He pretended to check his watch. “It’s 2 A.M. Do you think now’s time to snoop around?”

You grinned. “You know it.” 

--

You shrugged on a dark coat around your person, to help hide you in the shadows as you tiptoed around the clubhouse. You haven’t been here long enough to know how to avoid any creaky floorboards, so you were extra cautious as you walked down the halls. Things were quiet and there were less lights on, the ones aiding your way were incredibly dim. You could only hear muffled voices and sounds of televisions from rooms you passed - but no one was out in the open anymore. 

You relaxed as you smoothly made your way across the main room. You were feeling confident you’d find what you need without any hassle. And if anyone did find you-

“Hey!”

You jumped at the sound of a voice and reflexively pressed yourself against a nearby wall. Your eyes frantically shot around in the dark but you couldn’t find anybody. Curiously, you peeked around the corner to peer in the next room, where you saw Aydan standing across from Elise, his arms crossed and his face twisted in displeasure. You’d only seen him smiling during your time here, so the expression took you by surprise. 

The room they were in was clearly a separate bar, as there were shelves lined with fine liquor and taps for beer, with stools arranged around the counter. You wondered how you’d missed this earlier. 

“You know better than to give out second glasses,” his voice darkened in warning. “Now we’re running low on tequila.”

“I apologize,” Elise responded, her hands clasped tightly together at her waist. She looked as stiff as cardboard. “I had miscounted. May I summon you some more?” 

“You know that’s not what I’m concerned about,” he took a step closer to her, his orange eyes burning like the flames of fire. “What message do we leave when I allow you to give our guests more than they are promised? They will start expecting more , and you know as well as I that we cannot have that.”

“Yes, sir.” she whispered quickly. 

“Come here.” 

He took a seat on one of the stools and beckoned her over. She stood still for only a second longer before slowly walking over to where he was. Your eyes widened as you watched him hastily pull her up, setting her on his lap and gripping her suit tightly in his hands, scrunching up the fine material. Your jaw fell open when Aydan grabbed the back of her invisible head and forced his mouth onto…what could only be hers .

Even without a face to meet his, you could tell the kiss was forced and painful. A feminine whimper was heard in the air as he forced his tongue into her mouth. At this point, you turned away from the scene, feeling sick from what you were seeing. You would think watching a man tongue-kiss the air wouldn’t be so bad, but it was Elise’s cries that reminded you it was real. The way her gloved hands tried pushing him away from her, only for Aydan to practically crush her body against his own…

After what felt like an eternity, you opened your eyes. He pushed her off of him like he wanted nothing to do with her and Elise stumbled a little against the wall. 

“Have I made my point clear?” he asked sternly. 

“Yes.” 

“Do not let this happen again, or I will have this discussion with you upstairs. We are not a charity.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Stock all the alcohol and clean the rooms when you’re done. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.” 

He sauntered away and Elise slumped on the counter when he was gone. Your eyes were locked on her, your feet refusing to move. So your suspicions were right. She must be a prisoner under Aydan, but it went…much further than you presumed. He was imposing himself and assaulting her. It sickened you to realize that people could do this to their magical servants and get away with it…since their soul was bound to them, and there was no possible way for them to fight back, lest they get punished…

“My god,” you muttered under your breath. “I can’t believe he can do that to her.” 

“I can.” 

“Did…” you sucked in a breath harshly. “Did your enchantress ever-” 

“No. She just kept me in her control and hurt me when she was angry.”

Your eyes threatened to swell with tears, but you swallowed your anger down. You let out a breath to calm yourself, and your heart twisted to hear Elise crying as she arranged the liquor bottles. You couldn’t just walk away from this.

“Please, go talk to her,” you clutched your bag closer to your person. “Let her know she’s not alone. That she’s not the only one of you here.” 

“And what do I tell her when she asks who I belong to?”

You shrugged. “Tell her it could be anybody here. Lie about it for all I care. Just…make her feel better.”

“But, Detective…we need to search their files. Gather our evidence. Without me -”

“Open the door for me, and I’ll go and get everything myself. I’ll meet you in our room when I’m done.”

There was a pregnant pause where you watched Elise polish the glasses with shaking hands. You could sense he did not like this idea, you weren’t too big on being alone without him here either, but your concern for her outweighed everything else right now. After a moment, a flash came before you, and you watched as Curioso, dressed in his ensemble, approached her and tipped his top hat to her. There was an audible gasp as the glass she was holding slipped from her hands - only for your jester to reach forward and catch it before it could land.

The last thing either of you needed was for him to get discovered.

“Hello,” he offered politely, setting it back in her hand. You could tell he was tense, but at least he was being friendly.

“You…you’re…” she sounded breathless, pointing at him. “Who are you?” 

“My name is Curioso,” he took the liberty of seating himself while Elise scrambled to set the glass down and face him properly. 

“You’re one of us,” she said in disbelief. You quirked your head in the background. ‘Us’?

“I am. There’s no need to be afraid, I promise.” 

He lowered his arm and made a movement with his hand in your direction. You got the signal and moved on, reluctantly pulling yourself from the doorway and quickly sliding by in the darkness. You had to be fast while the door was uncovered. You did not want anyone stumbling upon it and seeing that someone was searching around. 

You finally reached the hallway you were in earlier today and gawked at the door that now stood where it hadn’t before. But you wasted no time, heading straight for it and closing the door behind you. You even locked it for good measure, turning around and observing the hidden room for yourself. 

It was an office, but this one had lots of filing cabinets and filled bookshelves. You got to work searching through these shelves using a small flashlight clutched between your teeth, taking note of what was there and grabbing what you were sure they wouldn’t miss. There were records and logs, but no dossiers. Those must all be in Aydan’s office. You busied yourself grabbing folders detailing this organization, tucking it all away in your bag to be thoroughly read through later. If you were quick here, you’d have the rest of the night to learn everything you could and contact the police. 

You tried opening a filing cabinet, only to find that it was locked. You swore under your breath as you wasted some more time searching for a key or a lockpick. It took far too long for you to uncover the hidden key tucked in the window sill. The moment you had it, you unlocked the drawers and began your hunt. After several minutes, you reached for a folder and opened it, smiling when you saw the address of the building you previously investigated.

Finally! 

Figuring you were done here, you slipped out of the room and tucked your bag out of sight. It was incredible luck to have no one stumble upon you in there. Or to hear anyone walking down that hallway. Having Elise distracted must’ve worked to your advantage. She would’ve been the likeliest one to find you tonight. You hoped her conversation with Curioso was going well right now. 

You were close to reaching your room until you felt someone grab your sleeve. You let out a cry and turned around harshly, only to meet the eyes of the telekinesis man you’d met earlier. For a second there, you thought Aydan had caught you. You eased down the second you realized they weren’t orange eyes. 

“Good evening, mate,” he grinned at you, sounding just as friendly as last time. “Sorry for the scare.” 

You calmed down and made sure to keep your bag out of view, waving him off. “No worries. I was just going to the bathroom.” 

You noticed his expression had changed, eying you with a confused look on his face, but he quickly wiped it and replaced it with a smile. He shook his head, muttering something to himself, and you shifted uncomfortably. 

“Say, I hate to bother ya’, but the fire went out in my room. Can’t get it to light again. Was wonderin’ if you could help me?”

You shook your head, fully aware that you were not under Curioso’s protection right now. “Sorry, I’m pretty exhausted from today.” 

“C’mon. It’ll be real quick and it won’t be much on you,” he paused before adding, “This place is freezing at night!” 

“Sorry, I just want to go back to my room and rest. I can help you tomorrow.”

He looked at you oddly, and you did your best to appear as sluggish as you could, despite having caffeine in your system. After a second, he nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off you. “Okay, mate. Have a good night.”

His tone was flat and you got the feeling that he wasn’t very happy with you. You recognized suspicion in his eyes - and you froze, realizing that you did not have…what did Curioso keep calling it? An ‘aura’ ? He said you did not have one, and without him on your person, it was obvious to anyone around you that you did not possess magical powers. 

You were so confident this wouldn’t happen, but you let yourself slip out of concern for Elise. Crap . 

“Uh, thanks. You, too.” 

With that, you sped-walked away, glancing behind your shoulder to check if he was following you. Thankfully, he remained where he was, eying you until you left his sight. From there, you rushed to your room, and closed the door behind you with a turn of the lock. You kept your body pressed against it for a minute longer, keeping an ear out to listen if he followed your direction, but you heard nothing.

You sighed in relief. 

“Curioso?” you called as quietly as you could, looking around. “I’m back.”

You checked the bathroom and every corner of your space, but it was empty. You inspected your clothes and your bag for his little face, but everything was as it should be. You sighed begrudgingly as you set down your bag and took out all the folders and papers you’d stolen. If Curioso wasn’t done yet, then you weren’t going to waste any time waiting for him. You’d check all of these and keep what you could for evidence. 

They should be done soon. 

--

A couple hours passed and you grew increasingly suspicious. Has something gone wrong? Did he get discovered? Had Elise ratted him out? It was nearly 4 AM now, and you worried it wouldn’t be long before the early birds would rise. You shoved all the papers back in your bag and started your search outside of your room - checking the hallways and rooms you passed as silently as you could. You were on edge as you looked for your friend, knowing you couldn’t call out for him. 

You even returned to the bar you’d left them at, only to find the room completely empty. You checked behind the counter but there was nothing. You grew a little frustrated as your journey continued. Where had they gone? What could’ve taken them so long? You told him to meet you back in your room. He surely had no problem getting back in there, even if it WAS locked. He knew better than to take too long…

When you felt you checked every inch of the place, you gave up and decided to return to your room. Curiso knew where it was, and you trusted everything was alright. He was smarter than you credited him for. Nothing was wrong…he’d probably be back in there by the time you returned, and the two of you would laugh upon having missed each other– 

A pair of voices caused you to freeze. It sounded like they were outside. But when you glanced out of the nearest window, you did not see anything. You gently pushed open the door that led to the downstairs balcony and looked around.

Nobody was around. 

“We could leave together.” 

You perked up at the sound of Elise’s voice. It was coming from above you. Ah, so they were on the balcony upstairs. You were about to head back inside until you heard Curioso’s voice respond:

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” 

…You hesitated, then withdrew your hand, choosing to flatten yourself against the wall and listen in. It probably wasn’t right for you to eavesdrop, but you didn’t want to interrupt them if they were talking about something important. You had a feeling that’s what this conversation was. 

Elise’s voice rang from above your head. “But you have temporary freedom. You do not need your master to release you. You can go anywhere you want, if you have your box.” 

“I don’t want to,” you could hear the sternness in his tone, as if he wanted to put an end to this conversation. You silently pleaded with him to do exactly that. 

“But, why? Does your master not force you to work, to do as they say? Do they not remind you that you belong to them, and punish you when you do wrong?” 

Your mouth was dry and you wet your lips. You remembered what you saw earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears that you could barely hear their voices. Still, Curioso triumphed over the noise. 

“I’m not a servant. Not anymore. And if I leave, I might become one again. We can’t run from our curse - we must always belong to someone, and I have who I want.” 

Your face felt warm. He had who he wanted. 

“You don’t serve them? Then what do you do?” 

You pressed your lips against your teeth, clenching your hands as you waited with bated breath. Curioso wouldn’t give you away. It would bring the end of your investigation. She’d surely tell Aydan, and then you’d be found out…

“I’m their partner. They take me places and I help them in return. I am never forced, nor punished, to do anything.” 

A moment of silence ensued, and you shifted your footing. Some bells jingled and there were a few noises from above that you couldn’t identify. Elise’s voice returned after a moment. 

“You’re lucky. I would not want to leave if I were you, either. But I don’t love my master and I cannot escape. What shall I do?” 

“We can free you.” 

She sounded surprised. “How?” 

“All it takes is your master’s hand on the box. Some coercing can make that happen.” That familiar sinister tone of his was in his voice, and you smiled at the familiarity of it. “And then your soul can find a new owner.” 

“But how do you know all of this?”

“I read the book.” 

“You - you did? How?”  

“I have my ways. There is a combination your master can enter that will free your soul. We take your box, and you will be ours. Just until you find someone new.” 

“But that book only has punishments. There’s no such combination. How can I trust you?” 

You leaned forward, intrigued with where this was going, but you had no chance to hear Curioso’s response. Two hands went around your throat and pulled you roughly inside. You choked at the sudden movement, widening your eyes when you were met with the same man from before. He must’ve been hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike when you had your guard down. 

“Let’s take a walk, yeah?” he whispered roughly in your ear, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Shit.

[hearmeoutworthypoll]

Curioso from Whispered Secrets: Morbid Obsession

Submission says

Propaganda: He's a pretty cool magical jester villain who I *think* meets the criteria of a tumblr sexyman but I don't know for sure. Is he a hear me out?

He’s a homeowner. Likes games, puzzles, abduction, and potentially murder

Reminder, the premise is “would a normie think it’s weird to find them attractive?” (Would they have to “hear me out?”)

[videogamepolls]

Requested by @hiddenobject-fanblog

[rainbowthefox]

Uhhhh. Uh. Uhm. Uh.

[dreamer-73]

I have been wanting to do fan art so badly for this game, but I couldn’t get him to look right until now. I love the game Whispered Secrets: Morbid Obsession so much!

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Nine: Time Mends the Broken

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: 9.2k words later and here we are! That's almost as much as the other Ch. The Long Night. Finally, Jace and his sister talk about what's happened to them! I know some of y'all have been waiting for that. We really go deep into the reader and Aemond's dynamic in this one too. As always, thank you for your patience and happy reading! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Chapter Warnings: ✨Targaryen queerness✨, melodramatic young adults, mentions of rape, Alicent being delulu, toxic relationships.

As your family arrived at the Red Keep, they quickly vanished, and your mother ordered your maids to repack your belongings. If you ever were, you were no longer welcomed in King’s Landing and planned to return to Dragonstone within the night. Part of you thought you would be relieved at the notion of ending your stay abruptly, seeing as you never wanted to return in the first place, yet you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment in the pit of your stomach as you helped Edwina collect your belongings. 

The magnitude of the situation engulfed you, leaving you unable to carry on with your duties. While the other maids of the Keep merely cast fleeting glances in your direction, Edwina, your lady-in-waiting, observed your distress with sincere concern.

“Your Highness, are you feeling well?” Edwina asked as she finished folding a pearl and turquoise dress into your trunk.

As you nodded, you offered her a weak, forced smile, which resembled more of a grimace. Your eyes quickly darted towards your weathered, old wooden wardrobe. You couldn’t quite remember if it was positioned in the same spot as it had been six years ago.

“I am,” you sighed, walking to the balcony doors. These were not welded shut as you pressed the handle. “The day has been tiresome, and now we must depart after being here for a mere breath. I want to take a moment of solace.”

She gazed at you with a weary expression, her eyes filled with apprehension, as she observed you making your way to the overlook. As you breathed the fresh air, recollections of the last time you were on a balcony flashed before Edwina. Still, her anxiety gradually subsided as she noticed you choosing to sit on a stone bench rather than the railing.

The imposing walls of the Red Keep emanated a chilling aura that seemed to seep into your very marrow. The unknown secrets concealed within its ancient stones caused an involuntary shiver to run down your spine. You couldn’t help but wonder what tales they would tell if given the chance. 

Would they reveal the long-buried truths about your family’s past and confirm the whispers surrounding your lineage? Would they speak with a tender understanding as they recounted the night of your most profound sorrow? Or perhaps they would steadfastly guard their secrets, refusing to yield to any interrogation. 

It almost felt as if the walls were already whispering, hoarding their enigmatic knowledge until the distant future when they would finally crumble and release their concealed truths.

You longed for a glimpse into Aemond’s formative years and the events that molded him into the individual he is today, these red stone walls witnessed. Understanding the circumstances of his upbringing would clarify the questions that troubled your mind concerning the correspondence you penned. You held onto the hope that he read them, but uncertainty clouded your thoughts.

The heavy doors to the chambers of your childhood bedroom swung open with a resounding clang as the guard stationed outside announced the arrival of Queen Alicent. Your maids bowed as the formidable, angular figure of the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms entered the sanctity of your bedroom. You could not refuse her presence in this private space despite your reluctance.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted, rising from your seat. Refusing to give her any more pleasantries that would be customary, you observed the maids leave, Alicent’s round amber eyes focused on you.

“Won’t you come inside, princess? I wish to speak with you after all these years,” she humbly requested. 

You understood it was a command and acquiesced. A part of you wanted to be obstinate and force her to meet you in the cold late winter air, but the courtly manner instilled within you since birth prevailed as you gently shut the hickory-framed balcony doors. 

“Sit.” 

Alicent gracefully motioned towards the inviting, opulent settee in front of the crackling fire, asserting her ownership of the space with a subtle yet commanding gesture. Despite the prickling sensation of anxiety coursing through your skin, you obediently followed her lead, attempting to conceal your unease. With a deep, almost wistful sigh, she fixed her gaze upon you, exuding an affectionate warmth that reminded you of your mother, and tenderly placed her delicate palm on your hand. Struggling to suppress the instinct to pull away, you grappled with conflicting emotions.

The hush that filled the space between you stretched on, heavy and suffocating, yet the Queen remained oblivious to its weight. To her, your company was a balm after enduring years shrouded in darkness without her guiding radiance.

“I wanted to apologize for Aemond’s behavior this evening. ‘Twas unbecoming of him,” she began, a prominent frown on her plump lips. “These grievances from childhood have gone unjust for so long that his anger has consumed him.”

Nodding grimly, you focused on the hearth, the orange and blue flames dancing with the moaning drafts. “Indeed. Jace, Luke, and I were not always kind to him growing up, but we did not know any better. We followed Aegon around like newborn pups until...”

“I know, my light. Perhaps an apology could soothe Aemond’s wounds?” she comforted, smoothing the unruly strands of your updo. You apologized years ago for your part in his torment, but you didn’t believe your brothers would extend the courtesy, nor would you change Aemond’s blackened heart. “You’ve grown so much in years past. I mourn not being able to be there to guide you.”

You sat there, not saying a word, and responded with a noiseless, polite, yet uneasy smile. You carefully withdrew your hand from hers, and to mask the action, you casually scratched the back of your neck, noticing the sensation of the tiny strands of hair beneath your fingertips.

“My letters? Did you get them?” Alicent questioned, desperate to prolong any contact with you.

You were unsure how to answer, knowing it would be unwise to tell her outright that you did but didn’t answer out of malice. For six years, Queen Alicent was left to stew with her thoughts and illusions, and you worried that if you conflicted them, she would become as unstable as she did the night of Driftmark.

“I was worried what my mother would say should she discover them, so I never wrote.” You supposed telling her part of the truth wouldn’t be a lie. You were concerned about what your mother would do if she found out you wrote to Alicent, but you still had no desire to speak to her.

She looked at you with sympathy, coming to caress the plumpness of your face with her knuckle. It seemed as if she couldn’t become close enough to you. “I see. I’m sorry you must endure that, but you are here now. Together once more.” 

What could you say to her and still keep the pleasantries? After everything that happened, from Aegon to Driftmark, you no longer held Queen Alicent in the same regard. The conversation did not come easily, and you could tell she noticed. 

“Rhaenyra plans to return on the morrow once she sees your family home. I would like you to come with her. You’ve barely just arrived, and Helaena would enjoy more time with you. She and I would love for you to meet the twins,” she smiled, sounding so hopeful it caused a pit in your stomach. “You and Aemond were friends before he lost his eye. I understand he seems to have changed greatly since you last saw him, yet I feel that the goodness inside him will prevail over time,” the Queen retook your hand, disregarding your obvious discomfort, “with you by his side.” 

Stare growing wide, you turned to Alicent, feeling a panic beat inside your chest like the wings of a dragon. “What do you mean?” 

Was the Queen still so desperate to have you join her family? 

She gave you the briefest of smiles as she tilted her head, studying your countenance as if you were some holy text. You changed as much as Aemond in Alicent’s eyes, yet she knew you were still hers. No distance or time could break the cord that tethered her to you. You were back home where you belonged, and although she was happy to be united with Rhaenyra, she would not let her dream be taken from her once more.

“No person knows one’s child better than their mother. I saw how he looked at you, eye never trailing too far from yours, poised to protect your honor. I worried I would witness a fight between Aemond and Aegon when he took you to dance,” she confessed. Your breath quickened, and you felt relief knowing what you felt wasn’t inside your head. 

“You want me to return to King’s Landing so Aemond and I…” You couldn’t say it aloud; words stuck in your throat. 

“Yes,” Alicent grinned, showing perfectly white teeth as she brought you close. Instinctively, she pulled your head into the crook of her neck, smelling her distinctive scent as she rubbed circles across your back. It was still the same frankincense after all these years, and you felt the fond memories of time spent with Alicent come flooding back. 

The tea times filled with sweets, laughter, and smiles entered your mind until it was replaced with the sound of Aemond’s scream, blood dripping from your mother’s wrist. You could not bring yourself to part from the Queen out of fear of what she would do. Alicent seemed so happy, yet you could sense the undercurrent of instability should you suddenly reject her affections. There was no choice but for you to accept whatever she wanted if it meant that there would be no more animosity between your families.

“I will confer with the king before bed and inform your mother when you return. This is a joyous occasion for us, my light,” she said, pulling your body impossibly tighter as you felt your hidden face contort into a weary grimace. 

You loved Aemond after all these years, but you held an uncertainty about whether he would overcome his grudges for the good of your House, and that did not account for whether your mother would agree to the proposal. She refused for you to marry into the Greens before, and with you being her heir, she might use you as all people did to their daughters, though you hoped you would be allowed to have some choice. Even if this wasn’t one, you desired to wed Aemond, if not out of love, but to secure peace between the two warring factions and your mother’s inheritance. 

Suddenly, the shared door to your childhood chambers opened and unexpectedly revealed your twin. Jace stood there breathless, not expecting you to have a visitor as he observed you tucked within the Queen’s embrace. He noticed the uneasy expression on your visage, brown eyes flicking from you to her, unsure what to do. 

At the acknowledgment of Jace’s presence, Alicent released you without a word, smoothing her structured gown with an air of cold indifference that enveloped her as she stood. 

“Sleep well, Princess,” she dismissed with a gentle nod. The necklace of the Seven-Pointed Star resting on her chest glittered in the candlelight as she left, not sparing a glance at your brother.

You and Jace did not speak. He was too stunned to see you and Alicent in a shared embrace, especially after what happened in the dining hall. That person shaped Aemond into the man he is today, sculpting the fresh clay of his mind into despising his niece and nephews. 

“What did she want?” Jace finally decided to ask with a defensive stance on his thin body. 

Sighing, you held your temples in your palms, a dejected sensation coming over you like a shroud. What could you say to him? The truth, you supposed. You never lied to your twin, but this did not feel like something you could tell him, especially after what occurred tonight. He would be upset at the notion and run to tell your mother.

“She apologized for Aemond’s behavior at supper,” you answered with exhaustion, the day’s turmoil finally taking its toll. You faced the trauma of your past without preparation and watched a man’s head get sliced clean through. You deserved to take a moment’s rest. 

Jace’s dark brows furrowed, more questions than answers coming to mind as he approached your slouched form. Typically, you would lean into his presence like no others, seeking comfort only your blood could give. At this moment, it did not feel right to do so. The past, present, and future hung heavy on your soul.

“You were embracing her,” your twin stated, which seemed to disgust him. “Where do you think Aegon and Aemond learned their behaviors?” 

Standing with a groan of annoyance, you paced to your partially packed clothes trunk, attempting to find anything to distance yourself from Jace’s pointed interrogation. “Yes, brother. When one apologizes, they tend to form some connection to express their sincerity.”

Jace scoffed, his lean body swiftly following your steps. “Are you unwell? Since the hearing, you’ve been cold with me.” 

“And why do you suppose that is?” you spun with a bark, eyes wide with vexation. Jace said not a word, curling his lips to wet them in anxiety. You knew he knew the reason but couldn’t understand why your brother refused to act as if nothing changed. “The future we grew up believing together is now nothing but a childish fantasy. Do you not comprehend how that makes me feel? To live with one thing so constant in life only for it to be ripped away in mere moments?”

Silence decorated the room, leaving the only sound to be the crackling of the roaring fire and thumping of your broken heart. Tears burned your nose, flowing down your cheeks in a salty mixture of scorn and sadness. 

“I understand that you feel as upturned as I do, but you have someone to love and hold in your life. Something that can give you that certainty in your life only it can. I…” your voice broke, filled with emotions that threatened to drown you. “I now have to find that something—to navigate a world full of men who will lie, betray me, and think themselves worth more than they are so that they may reach ultimate power. I will become a prize to win rather than someone’s daughter, someone who lives and breathes and has desires of her own.”

Jace could see you spiraling, sinking into a pit of melancholy he feared you would not crawl out of. He realized he hadn’t stopped to think about what you could genuinely be feeling. It was given that you felt the same shock, rage, and disappointment he did, but beyond that, he hadn’t considered what this meant for your relationship or future. 

To have someone be your first in everything and grow up with the idea that they would also be your last stunted emotional and social growth with others. Jace was given the comfort of knowing who would be his new end, but you weren’t afforded the luxury. A selfish part of him hoped you would never find someone in this sense. You were his sister. He realized this was the ego of a self-centered man speaking, not the brother you cherished with your body and soul.

Not knowing how to improve this impossible situation, Jace brought you close, holding your sobbing form in his familiar arms. He felt your fingers clench his tunic as you attempted to ground yourself. Tears soon fell from his dark lashes and onto your crown. You looked at him with matching sorrow, instinctively stroking the soft bone of his cheek in the manner you knew simultaneously weakened and emboldened him. 

Sleep did not come easy to Aemond on this night despite the intense wine he drank at dinner to ease his soul. How could the Prince find sleep after what happened? After he was forced to sit and break bread with the people who altered his life forever? You were never his family, yet thoughts of your shared youth and camaraderie infected his mind like grayscale. It loomed over him like dark clouds beckoning a storm.

Alicent, his mother, whom he cherished dearly, cowered in her beliefs at the mere notion that her long-lost friend gave even the slightest acknowledgment. She impressed upon Aemond, and his siblings Rhaenyra’s flaws and the sins she called children were abominations unfit to inherit the Crown. Now, after merely six years, none of that seemed to matter. He felt angry—betrayed. Was this not what his mother wanted of him? For Aemond to stand behind Aegon’s claim and their family regardless of the web, Rhaenyra spun around her.

The sting of tears sprung in his violet eye, but Aemond quickly willed them to stop by replacing them with his fury. He was not weak. He held the family together, and you were not the family his mother claimed you to be. Had it not been for your kin’s unprecedented arrival, all would be as it should be. A father he longed for attention from but never got, on the Stranger’s door, his brother drowning himself in his cups instead of your presence, and you, far across Blackwater Bay on Dragonstone, living a life you were undeserving of. Aemond did feel slightly vindicated when he saw your ghostly expression when Princess Rhaenys stated Jacaerys’s betrothal.

The Prince understood then that your life was capsizing, but at least you still had two plain, working eyes.

His ire was no longer contained, and his mind continued to reel, boiling over until he threw the bedsheets from his tense body and dawned a nightshirt. Aemond hated you. He loathed you and was not one to leave a conversation without the upper hand as he left his chambers, slinking into one of Maegor’s secret passages. 

It was involuntary how Jace’s body responded to yours, your touch so familiar it was impossible not to succumb to the sins of the past as your moist lips met. Heat ignited inside your loins as it did his, your hands winding themselves inside his choppy hair, barely taking a minute to breathe. You were unsure who was the first to disrobe the other, grabbing one another’s buckles and strings until there was nothing but air between your hot flesh.

“We shall say goodbyes to our previous beliefs tonight, Jace. I shall not be your whore and sister,” you declared against his cheek as you lowered him onto your childhood bed. “Nor shall you be mine. I respect your union far more than that.” 

“And I yours,” Jace quickly replied with a strained grunt, settling his cock between your wet folds as you rocked yourself to full arousal.

It would be difficult for both of you to navigate new bodies for the first time again, to find what made the other person curl their toes in abandon. For Jace, you knew how he loved the way it felt to be inside you to the fullest extent and saw how his older sister rode him to take her pleasure. For you, Jace knew that the little nub at the top of your silt was the epicenter for the majority of your pleasure, teasing the thing with his mouth, tongue, digits, and whatever else he could to see you so grateful for him.

You suddenly longed for your twin despite being in his presence, reminding yourself of your torturous time apart as you leaned forward, devouring his pouty lips and balancing yourself to become one. Your slick walls welcomed Jace inside like they were his home, feeling the head brush against the sensitive spot deep inside, the pair of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you began to move with gradual and firm movements of your hips. Each grind and lift of your body slowly bloomed ecstasy between your thighs, using your hands and core to savor yet heighten the experience to reach that inevitable peak. 

Aemond expected you to be alone, or at the very least, with a maid when he reached the destination Aegon had shown him. He did not ask how his brother knew of such things, though the answer was clear. Whatever semblance of a plan Aemond conjured on his march through the damp tunnels was abruptly extinguished once he heard your girlish cries—loathing to admit it aloud, the Prince’s ire softened at the noise. He grunted, poised to open the wall and have him be the reason you wailed, but he ceased his movements at the deep timbre that comforted your sorrows. 

It was Jace. The beloved brother you would willingly give up your life for, holding you within his arms as you sobbed. The sight flared his nostrils and sent a burning sensation to his stomach that he tried to ignore.

It was expected that your twin would be in your bed chambers. Aemond knew of the rumors surrounding your closer-than-normal sibling relationship. While it wasn’t seen as taboo in Targaryen customs, the common folk who practiced the Faith certainly would see it as a sin if they knew. 

The One-Eyed Prince stood silently in the dim recesses concealed behind the rough-hewn stone wall. His breath barely made a sound as he cautiously pried it open enough to glimpse the unfolding scene. A flicker of annoyance shot through him at the thought of Jace unexpectedly discovering his presence. He stifled the urge to groan, focusing instead on the poignant sobs that echoed through the air. 

Before him were the illegitimate children of his half-sister, caught in their web of delusions, seemingly convinced that they could escape the relentless strains of duty that had ensnared so many before them. Aemond watched with disdain and pity, realizing they were blissfully unaware of the sacrifices the world demanded of them in exchange for power and prestige. You and your brother sat huddled together, your voices trembling thick with emotion as you expressed the despair of being forced into marriages with people you barely knew, let alone desired.

Aemond’s gaze narrowed as he observed your youthful faces, illuminated by the waning light flickering with the candles. Your immaturity was evident. The rawness of your feelings revealed how little you understood the harsh realities of noble life. It was a bitter irony, this burden, the necessity of sacrificing personal happiness for strategic alliances. The weight of such obligations pressed heavily on your shoulders, a burden that felt especially crushing in your youthful naivety.

Embraces soon turned to caresses, which morphed into kisses as he observed Jace untie the laces of your crimson gown. Aemond felt his stomach lurch, the involuntary fear of the events being nonconsensual guiding his sudden urge to protect you. He halted his movements as he watched you disrobe your brother, blood draining from his heart and into his cock when he saw your naked form.

The womanly figure he saw within the courtyard was able to be admired. The slope of your elongated neck that still held your necklace led down to your two perfect mounds of flesh, rounded and shaped almost to the teardrops that sparkled on your skin—a soft place to rest your head in comfort. Curves and rolls decorated the rest of your body as he watched you move in time with Jace, bestowing upon Aemond the perfect view of your hips that were sturdy and plush, housing a womb to bear your future husband’s children.

Your body was a picture of the Maiden, Aemond mused, feeling his cheeks heat with growing desire. You were a depiction of a woman, so soft and plump, a perfect contrast that would fit with his muscular and sinewy body. The Prince could imagine your stomach stretched with a child and breasts full of milk as they leaked through pert nipples and onto his tongue.

The shame Aemond felt at thinking such things of his bastard niece warred in his mind, logic battling with lust as his breeches became too tight. He refused to succumb to his sinful desires and embraced the pain of his longing.

A flicker of callow hope lingered in the shadowy corners of Aemond’s mind as if clinging to the possibility that the gossip regarding you and your twin was nothing but a cruel fabrication. He wrestled with the notion of you as a sensual being, a struggle deepened by the haunting memories of Aegon’s transgressions against you. Like the common folk, he had unknowingly fallen prey to a comforting illusion—seeing you as a paragon of virtue, a righteous martyr navigating the treacherous waters of adolescence with grace and fortitude. 

To him, you were a pure maiden, your spirit untainted, who had bravely borne the trials and tribulations that beset young women, emerging with a noble resolve. The small childish part of Aemond wanted to believe you had sworn off the temptations that often ensnared others, choosing instead a path marked by selflessness and a profound commitment to righteousness. This image of you, painted in broad strokes of light and virtue, had unwillingly taken root in his mind, making the idea of you as anything other than an emblem of purity feel surreal and disconcerting.

The Prince noiselessly grunted in agony as his manhood painfully beat against the confines of his trousers, only for it to be swallowed by the soft sounds unique to only sex. He childishly hoped that he would be the man to break his imagined vow of chastity you took, but now he realized how much of a fantasy it was as he watched you take your twin’s cock between your glistening folds. 

Jace was the only thing that felt right to you today, like the embrace of a loved one you hadn’t seen in years. Your hip movements were practiced as they held the knowledge of what made your brother’s abdomen clench in ecstasy. You could feel your brother’s hands on you, so gentle, tender, and loving, having nothing of the malice your uncle carried today. 

Seeing Aemond now a man instead of the wide-eyed boy you knew stirred something within you that you had pushed aside earlier, igniting a fire you had never known existed in your soul. You imagined him here now and what it would be like to feel his manhood nestled so profoundly within you that there was no end. While you enjoyed the recognizable feeling of Jace and his delicateness, now that you had gotten a taste for the depravity of your uncle in his place, you found your movements daunting. Your knees began to ache, and your thighs started to burn, abruptly extinguishing the pleasure that was blossoming in your core.

This had never happened before, and you pushed yourself to continue, crashing that high that was always promised at the end. 

Praying that Jace did not notice, you leaned forward as you attempted to lose yourself in his kiss, stroking the sides of his visage. The more you moved, the more discouraged you became, resorting to seeking your pleasure with your own hands as you rubbed at your pearl, but nothing worked.

Frustration overshadowed any fulfillment. Your ministrations and Jace’s cock felt like an intrusion into your walls. Faking your release would not end this once-enjoyed act, and you steeled yourself to ensure this would be over soon. 

You felt terrible for Jace. You knew he would stop at his detriment to ensure you were well, but you refused to utter the reason behind why your body had become so ineffective. 

“You feel so good, brother. I need you to…” The dryness in your mouth halted your lies as you concealed it with a look of satisfaction. “I need you to finish. I’m so close.” Jace was none the wiser, too lost in pleasure as he profusely nodded.

It was painfully evident to anyone who glanced your way that you had lost interest in the moment. Your posture was rigid, and your eyes were clouded with discontent. Aemond couldn’t help but feel a troubling sense of satisfaction at that realization as if he had uncovered a hidden complexity in the situation. 

Your brother, Jace—the very same person you always believed understood you on a deeper plane—remained blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling within you. His gaze lingered on your face, but it lacked the perceptiveness needed to grasp the subtle but clear signs of your unhappiness.

Aemond’s thoughts raced. If only he were in his nephew’s shoes, he would have sensed the disturbance immediately. Unlike Jace, who seemed consumed by his emotions, Aemond had a keen intuition that allowed him to read the room with sharp clarity. He would not have focused on the fleeting pleasure of the moment. Instead, he would have delved beneath your act, seeking to uncover the reasons behind your discontent. Aemond envisioned himself beneath you, looking up at your flushed body with the intent of understanding the causes of your spiral, eager to address your needs and reignite the spark of ecstasy that once illuminated your expression.

If only…

Though it was mere minutes, it felt like hours, and you squeezed and loosened yourself around your twin’s cock, milking him in a way that would cause him fulfillment. He tried to stop you, taking hold of your plump hips as you continued. 

“Stop, sister. You haven’t… fuck…” Moving his palms to your breasts, you took control, sweat running down your neck from exertion as Jace struggled to keep himself from releasing. 

He was helpless. Toes curling and stomach clenching as you quickly lifted yourself off, stroking his pink shaft in place of your womanhood. Spurts of his pearlescent seed left from his pink tip and onto his waist and your hand, biting his lower lip in an attempt to silence his grunts of satisfaction as you slowed your movements so as not to overwhelm him. Jace’s heart raced inside his chest like a horse’s hooves as he came down from his high, fidgeting his legs and bringing your body up to kiss him. You did not mean to torture him, but it was finally done, and that was a relief in itself as you laid down beside him, stroking his hot torso. 

“You did not peak,” Jace began with a pout, moving himself to settle his body between your legs. “Let me make up for it.”

Inhaling a deep breath, you shook your head, pulling him up to rest beside you again. “There’s no need, brother. Your pleasure is enough to satisfy me,” you lied, stroking the choppy strands of his short hair behind his ear. He stared at you skeptically as you felt disgusted with yourself at the smell of sex in your bed chambers, causing revulsion to churn in your stomach. “Edwina will be back soon, and while I trust her, we do not need to risk another tongue-lashing from Mother. You are to be married soon and must be in her good graces. Come. Let me clean you.”

Jace sighed, slumping over his drying seed as you poured your drinking water into a bowl and gathered a cloth to wipe his stomach. You engrossed yourself in the action as you were too ashamed to speak, though your brother couldn’t possibly hate you more than you already did. 

Without many words between you, you helped him dress, throwing over an appropriate dress slip, smiling, and bestowing him fleeting touches not to have him worry. It was evident that Jace understood something was wrong, but the consequences for you and him, a betrothed man discovered in a compromising position, far outweighed any concerns. 

“Mother wants us ready to depart back to Dragonstone within the hour. We mustn’t waste any more time,” you ordered Jace in the way only you could, as he nodded.

Before he closed the door to your adjoining childhood chambers, he gave you one last kiss, saying farewell to the childish dreams of a future together. 

“I love you,” he stated. You gave him a bittersweet smile in return.

“And I you, more than the Gods allow.” 

Shutting the door behind him, you locked it, countenance dropping from the neutral expression to one of despair, sobs breaking from between your lips as you balanced yourself against the warm hearth.

The world around you felt utterly ruthless and deeply unjust, a suffocating weight pressing down on your heart. You couldn’t shake the bitterness that churned within you, directed at the memories of your past with Jace. It was painful to reflect on the years you spent entranced by the fantasy of life together, imagining the vows you would exchange and the family you would build. The reality, however, was a far cry from those dreams, each illusion crumbling under the harsh light of truth. 

Your mother’s actions echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain. It felt like she had orchestrated this betrayal all along, waiting for the opportunity to use her children. She wielded Jace and Luke as pawns, manipulating emotions to untangle her political complications, leaving you feeling forgotten and unutilized. In her quest to alleviate her burdens, your mother dismantled the very dreams you held dear, leaving you adrift in a sea of disappointment, grappling with the profound loss of a future you thought was within your grasp.

Through the haze of tears clouding your vision, you caught a glimpse of the wall beside your wardrobe, protruding ever so slightly as if it were hiding a secret. The air hung heavy with tension, and a chill ran down your spine. Only one person could be moving through the shadows of the Red Keep at this hour. Panic gripped your heart, tumbling down to your bare feet and leaving you frozen, an unwilling statue in the dim light. 

As you willed your limbs to move, you shuffled awkwardly across the cold wooden floor, acutely aware that Aegon was most likely watching you. The door to your brother’s room and the hallway felt painstakingly far away. The only option left was the balcony, its railing looming like an unwelcoming edge over the moat of spikes encircling Maegor’s Holdfast. 

The thought of plunging into those treacherous spikes sent a shiver through you. For now, hiding seemed your best chance. If you could buy yourself time, you might gain enough distance from Aegon to run to the hall full of guards.

With a whisper of dread, you crawled beneath your bed, the coarse dust and sticky cobwebs clinging to your dress and skin like the entrapments of a forgotten cellar. The muffled thud of footsteps echoed from the far wall, sending shivers down your spine as you watched Aegon’s boot enter your chambers, its polished leather glinting ominously in the dim light. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, a frantic drum of terror, as he paused at the foot of your bed, the air thick with unspoken tension.

With a sinking feeling, you covered your eyes with trembling hands, desperately praying to the Seven for Edwina’s swift return, but your silent plea hung unanswered around you. You heard Aegon grunt softly, the sound unsettling as he shuffled closer, his heavy shoes brushing against the stone floor. Every nerve in your body was taut with fear as you felt his gaze sweep beneath the bed, searching for you in the shadows.

A firm hand clamped around your arm, jolting you with a scream that echoed in the stillness. As your eyes fluttered open, you were met not with Aegon’s familiar, cropped hair but with a cascade of silver locks flowing down a lithe figure. Aemond knelt before you, his intense gaze focused and calculating as he studied your trembling form. The tension in the air hung heavy around you, amplifying the fear pulsing through your veins. You felt the warmth of his grip as he observed you, the world around fading into a blur, leaving only the sharp clarity of his presence.

Aemond found it almost laughable that you thought cowering beneath the bed, like a frightened child, could shield you from the world outside. He noted how a part of your gown, delicate and flowing, peeked out. In comparison, some of him relished his power to instill fear in you. A more profound understanding stirred within him as he noted your quivering lips, brows arched in fright. It wasn’t merely his presence that had regressed you to this vulnerable state. The haunting memory echoed in your mind whenever you lay in the stillness of twilight.

He recalled, in vivid detail, the night Aegon had violated you—a night marred by betrayal and anguish. You had confided in him, recounting how his older brother lured you through the shadowy tunnels with sweet promises of a secret just for you. The realization struck Aemond like a dagger. Your reaction was rooted in that traumatic experience, a natural response to the horror you had endured. Yet, as those memories surfaced, they ignited a fierce anger within him that dulled his compassion and overshadowed his instinct to comfort.

“If you’re here to hurt me, know that my Lady will be here any moment,” you whispered, tears glistening on your cheeks. The Prince felt transported back in time, seeing your girlish face before him like it had not aged from when you crawled into his bed and shared your first kiss.

“I have no want for depravity,” Aemond announced, releasing your arm. He rose from his crouched position but did not leave your room. This reminded him of the night you came to sleep in his chambers for this very reason, and he felt his black heart lighten at the tremble of your frightened voice.

“Then why are you here?” You were so weak and pathetic, nothing like the strong dragon you had portrayed yourself to be hours prior. 

Aemond sighed through his nose, seemingly exhausted from the conversation, sitting on the mattress above you as it creaked. “I’ve come to finish our conversation from earlier,” he declared casually with the cross of his leg. “Won’t you spare me the dignity of discussing such matters face to face?”

“I am quite content down here,” you quipped with a sniffle, fear still controlling your actions. “Say your piece.”

You heard him chuckle from above, a smirk no doubt on his features. “My brother will not harm you. He’s off to the Silk Streets at this very moment, drowning himself in wine and women,” the Prince offered in consolation. He hoped to get you out from under the bed, but he did find the situation amusing. 

“I pity them. Do you blame me for being so cautious after what happened tonight?” You wanted to prolong this momentary peace even if it was surrounding the gossip of another. “How Aegon so shamelessly flouted about the room? You saw how he acted, Aemond.”

“You are not innocent in the matter either, niece,” Aemond hummed as you covered an offended scoff. “If I recall, your dear twin took his wife and flouted about the room with her.” 

Your fierce sense of injustice compelled you to wriggle out from beneath the bed, carefully brushing off the dust and specks of debris that had settled on your gown. It was a soft fabric that now seemed to bear the marks of your hiding place, but you paid it little mind. Aemond lounged atop your rumpled bed sheets, occupying your space with an air of casual superiority as if he belonged there. 

His loosely draped clothing accentuated his figure, and you found it challenging to divert your gaze from the exposed expanse of his collarbones. The pale sheen of his skin contrasted starkly with the messiness of the room, momentarily captivating you and stealing your breath away. The atmosphere thrummed with an unspoken tension, drawing note to the uncharted territory between you.

“He-he touched me as if he did not tear my womanhood and make me bleed!” you exclaimed, a fresh wave of tears collecting at your dark lashes. “And you were there, uncle. You watched it happen. Do you not recall your promise made on a night such as this? Would you protect me from him so long as I was by your side? I am here before you.”

Aemond’s face was impassive, a blank stone carved with only his features. “You couple with your brother, and yet you are the one to lecture me? You’re a whore.”

You knew it was only a matter of time before he spoke about what he saw in the shadows, but having it brought to light did not ease the knot of shame within your stomach. 

“Whatever insults you have conjured up, know that I’ve already thought of them myself,” you braced, attempting to build a wall around your heart. Despite the difference in position, Aemond sitting in what would be a submissive manner, you felt like the lesser one, embracing your torso in self-consolation.

The Prince remained unnervingly quiet, his expression a hardened mask of arrogance. Shadows danced across his chiseled features as the dim light caught the high curve of his cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw. He tilted his head slightly, allowing his moonlit hair to fall just enough to enhance his regal demeanor. A deep, resonant hum emerged from his throat, filling the air with a somber melody that seemed to echo the weight of unspoken thoughts. His eyes, usually filled with a fierce brightness, now held an undercurrent of fear—a fear that crept in like a shadow. He was aware that if he broke this silence, his voice might waver, revealing the regret that festered within him. 

Aemond feared you would hear the tremor of the boy he once was, the dragonless child who had craved approval and affection and still felt the sting of past failures. The thought of you seeing him in such a vulnerable light sent a shiver of apprehension through him, driving him to maintain his proud appearance. 

“I have been told since birth that Jace was to be my husband, yet now the foundations of my life have been uprooted because of one man’s ambitions,” you argued, feeling your body flush with anger instead of this dreadful sadness. “I feel like a fool for doing such things. I understood it was wrong at the time, yet this part of me was so bent on taking back something stolen from me. To prove to myself that sex was not about pain and control but something to enjoy.”

“All people succumb to sins of the flesh,” Aemond replied. It was a bland reply that showed little sympathy for you, but you expected nothing less from him. You were grateful enough that he hadn’t closed the conversation off so that only his wrath spoke.

Inhaling a stuttered breath, you wiped away the water that soaked your skin, a futile attempt at returning your dignity. “Men can fuck as they please without the stigma that surrounds women. If they fault and dabble with the flesh, it’s considered nothing more than their culture. When I am queen-”

“Aegon took me to a brothel when I was three and ten,” Aemond interrupted your tirade, causing you to pause with dissatisfaction, coloring your features. “He said, ‘Time to get it wet.’ I didn’t want to, but he paid the brothel Madame good coin, and I was forced to endure to show my brother that I was a man like him.” The fire within you softened, the tense muscles of your body deflating in empathy at his confession. “You are not the only one subjected to hypocrisy. I was supposed to enjoy it like a man, but all I felt was disgust.”

Perhaps it was the rich, intoxicating wine that Aemond had been consuming, or maybe the insidious notion that he held a threat over your head compelled him to confide in you. His revelations were not born out of genuine concern for you but reflected your insignificance in his eyes. 

That was the reason, nothing more.

He did not regard your thoughts or feelings as worthy of consideration. After all, a Prince of his stature would not be so vulnerable as to divulge his most profound shame to his illegitimate niece, expecting that with her bleeding heart, she would offer him understanding or solace. 

Aemond carried the weight of the pig incident like a brand upon his soul, an indelible memory that refused to fade. The sting of Aegon’s words lingered in his mind, a fresh wound that festered even after losing his eye to Lucerys, a brutal reminder of his vulnerability. 

The image of Aegon loomed ominously in his memories, particularly the night in the brothel, where the air was thick with the stench of spilled wine and sweat. Aegon’s skin glistened with an unappealing stickiness, the remnants of revelry clinging to him as he towered over Aemond, his posture a hazy blend of mockery and drunken arrogance. Beneath the veil of alcohol swirling in his veins, Aegon’s cruel laughter cut through the air, sharp and unforgiving, each word a fresh dagger aimed directly at Aemond’s heart. The echoes of that taunting laughter haunted him, a bitter reminder of the pain inflicted by the very brother who should have stood by his side.

“Ensure that you stay perfectly still, brother. We don’t want you to miss it.”

You exhaled slowly, a deep sigh laced with a sense of melancholy as a rush of emotions threatened to spill over. The fresh start of tears hovered beneath the surface, their warmth urging to escape, but you clenched your jaw and willed them to remain hidden, trapped within your mouth. 

Aemond sat before you, his expression hardened and his stance resolute. He did not welcome sympathy or pity. Those sentiments would isolate him further, pushing him deeper into his turmoil. What Aemond truly needed—more than any platitude about family values—was someone who could listen and sense the heavy shadows lurking behind his guarded words. He craved understanding, a connection that transcended judgment, a safe space to unburden his heart without fear of condemnation or lectures. At that moment, all he needed was an empathetic ear, ready to hear him amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

“Aegon is vile. A part of me hoped he would spare you from his cruelty, though I should have known. His mind is twisted and barbarous and holds no honor. You know this as I do,” you preached. 

The longing to embrace Aemond was overwhelming, a fierce yearning that coiled tightly within you, causing your fingers to flex and relax in a restless rhythm. You understood the delicate nature of his emotions, aware that a sudden move could send him retreating into the impenetrable and cold fortress he had constructed around his heart. With that thought in mind, you opted for a tentative approach, positioning yourself at a respectful distance on the plush feather mattress, allowing the space between you to serve as a shield and a bridge in this intricate dance of intimacy and caution. The softness of the mattress cradled your form, yet your heart raced with the desire to close that distance, to reach out and let him know how deeply you cared.

“Your mother spoke with me tonight. She wants me to return tomorrow with my mother and finally propose an engagement to unite our House.” You steadied your breath as you felt Aemond’s piercing, violet eye on you, his face turning into a mask. You could see his mind reeling at your proximity and your following words, trying to decipher what would come next.

“I owe my life to you for what you did for me. You stopped Aegon from debasing me further and became my friend despite how poorly I treated you,” your voice cracked with conviction as you reflected on the regrets of your childhood. “Accept this betrothal, and we will live out those childhood times again. You’ll be my husband and I, your wife, taking to the skies together like I promised. We will rule the Seven Kingdoms, and you will be king. Aegon will no longer hurt us.” 

Your words were like honey in his ear, dripping from the comb full of its viscous sweetness and into his blood. The tension within your stomach began to morph into something different, something warm yet exhilarating, as you saw fierce emotion crack through the lines of his face.

Courage filled you, rattling your bones and lifting your muscles to cup the side of Aemond’s scarred cheek as you softly stroked the indented skin. 

The surge of boldness that once ignited within you flickered and vanished, leaving a feeling of vulnerability that wrapped around you like a heavy cloak. Memories of the heartbreaking tragedies that life had heaped upon both of you flooded back, causing you to instinctively pull away, uneasy with the weight of it all. Yet, before you could fully retreat, Aemond’s hand closed around your wrist, his grip steady and unyielding, anchoring you to that fragile moment. 

Your breaths hung suspended in the air as you found yourself lost in his gaze, two souls suspended in time, teetering on the brink of understanding. It felt as though you could plunge deep into the shadows of his thoughts, unraveling the secrets he kept buried within. The silence stretched around you, thick with unspoken words, and a part of you was terrified to break it, fearing that doing so might shatter the delicate tranquility that had settled between you.

Time ceased to exist. It was only you and your uncle, two souls that had once been connected and torn asunder by hate that erupted long before your conception. You felt the gravity of the situation pulling you towards Aemond, and he, you, no longer seeing the world around you. The candlelight shade danced across the aquiline sculpture of his visage, creating a haunting beauty compared to the soft, cherubic plumpness of your face, round with conviction and moist with tears.

The moment couldn’t last long enough as you felt your knee collide with Aemond’s, sending a jolt through your core that made your breath hitch. The hand on your uncle’s ridged thigh clenched, fingers digging into his muscle as you observed how the tendons rippled with the movement, sending a wave of heat to your skin. You were certain Aemond felt the same, too, with his cheeks and ears tinged pink, tongue poking out to briefly wet his lip as his violet eye flicked to your swiftly rising and falling breasts.

Without warning, the doors to your bed chambers opened with a clang, revealing the Lady Edwina you had prayed for earlier. You did not want to pull away from him but knew the consequences of being caught in an improper position with a man. Aemond gave you no choice, curling his lip in dissatisfaction as he tightened his grip on your arm, refusing to let you remove the warmth of your touch on his face. 

It had been an eternity since he had felt the soothing warmth of a feminine embrace, a gesture that had become increasingly rare from his mother as the years had passed and he had grown older. The absence of that nurturing touch left a hollow ache in his heart. He craved the security and intimacy that such an embrace offered, and when you tried to pull away, he instinctively tightened his hold.

Edwina gasped with a quick “My Prince” as Aemond begrudgingly loosened his grip.

“Edwina, thank you for returning,” you said, voice cordial and gaze misty, “though I wish you would announce yourself.”

She curtsied, her cheeks scarlet. “Apologies, Your Highness.” 

Sighing, you glanced at Aemond, who had a dark expression, half thinking he should order the maid away or have her quartered for insolence. Sensing his vexation, you stood, placing a hand on your uncle’s sturdy shoulder, and offered a weak grin.

“All is forgiven. My uncle and I just finished discussing, didn’t we?” Aemond grunted in response, following your movements and brushing off your kind gesture. “Sleep well tonight, Prince Aemond. Know that my thoughts are with you.” 

He remained silent, his mask of the ruthless Prince falling perfectly back into place as he strode out of the room, leaving behind an oppressive air and not even a hint of a farewell. You sighed exasperated, rolling your eyes at the heavy doors as they swung shut with a resounding thud. Glancing over at your Lady, you caught her gaze, which held a deep, understanding glance that spoke volumes without the need for words. She surveyed your attire keenly before returning to her task of meticulously packing your belongings, her movements graceful yet methodical.

“Shall we summon the other maids?” Edwina asked with an airy shift in her tone that she acquired when in a jesting mood. She finally knew the answer as to who you so ardently sent ravens to in the Keep.

You offered a subtle nod, your gaze drifting to the elegant pitchers that adorned the polished writing table, each glinting softly in the dim light. With a graceful motion, you poured the deep crimson wine into a delicate glass, the rich aroma rising to meet you as it filled the vessel. The thought of leaving this stuffy gathering behind ignited a thrilling hope within you, quickening your heartbeat at the anticipation of returning to Aemond. The idea of being reunited with him filled you with an intoxicating sense of longing and excitement, making your pulse race with the promise of what was to come.

A profound sense of satisfaction enveloped Aemond as he walked through the torch-lit halls of the Keep. The flickering flames cast a warm glow, illuminating the intricacies of the stone walls that had witnessed countless secrets and whispered promises. The air was thick with the scent of burning resin and age-old timber, enhancing the atmosphere of history surrounding him. 

As he stepped into his chambers, a serene calm washed over him, slowly releasing the tension from his muscles as if he were shedding a burdensome weight. A curious sensation flickered within his chest, akin to the rush of emotions he had felt when he first kissed you all those years ago—a moment forever etched in his memory. A grin stretched his thin lips, a blend of nostalgia and anticipation brightening his features.

He envisioned a future where you would stand proudly by his side as his wife, the thought filling him with warmth. The image of your hands intertwined and the promise of building a family together painted a vivid picture in his mind. In that profound moment, he realized that the sacred ties of marriage would firmly anchor your loyalties, binding your fates together in a covenant that would weather any storm, ensuring that your heart would forever belong to Aemond.

Princess Rhaenyra’s only daughter would be his. 

Aegon’s ascension to the Iron Throne was inevitable, and he understood that accepting such a fact would put your new marriage to the test. The Prince convinced himself that in the end, you would love him and stay by his side, and that was enough for him to forget the vexation at his mother’s schemes and agree to the proposal. Mors Martell and Queen Nymeria, at last. 

Though the war had not yet begun, Aemond felt a sense of victory swelling within him.

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The reader really couldn't catch a break in this chapter. It was literally one trauma after another. XD I've debated putting in some smut scenes with Jace and the reader in the previous chapters, but it never felt right. They've definitely done it quite a few times, tho. In my head, they've accidentally had a pregnancy scare like Rhaenyra did, and that was one of the turning points to separate them and send the reader to Dorne. Anyways, Aemond is at the beginning of his Prince Regent Era with his arrogance, but oh boy. The man won't know what hit him in the following chapters... (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n , @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna , @baybaybear1

[thenatashamaximoff]

Whispers In The Dark

Summary: When a casual one night stand develops into a deeper, forbidden love, you and Wanda try to keep your relationship a secret as you navigate the challenges of balancing your growing emotions with the fear of being caught.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut)

Words: 6,462

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┌─────────────ᗢ─────────────┐ @diaryoflife @women-am-i-right @creatively-analytical @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @beforeoursecrets @iliketozoneout @olsensnpm @hoefnagel └─────────────ᗢ─────────────┘ ┌─────────────∞─────────────┐ @myfavoriteficss @pinkytoecrust @cyncity32 @romanoffomixam @peachbear88 @magicallymaximoff @therealmeari @peggycarter-steverogers @ba-romanoff @natashabelovas @morbid-gaymer @reminiscingtonight @when-wolves-howl @idontknownemore @natashasilverfox @sayah13 @fuxk182 @scarletwitchofthewilds @natashamaximoff69 @wuwu96 @jsonebraincell @whendarknessturns​ @marvel4liferz └─────────────∞─────────────┘

⚠️IMPORTANT ARTHOR’S NOTE: The following story (or following chapters) will not include detailed moments of smut. However, it does contain enough sexual content that I feel more comfortable labeling it NSFW/18+/MDNI. With that being said, read at your own discretion. Enjoy.

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The extremely comfortable bed you were laying on beckoned you to stay put, the weight of the covers over your body engulfing you in a warmth you didn't want to disrupt. It was hard to stay awake when you were so perfectly nestled in like a swaddled newborn. You had to find the energy to toss the covers off of you, though your limbs didn't seem to want to really move at the moment. Yet, with the seemingly loud vibration hammering away on the nightstand next to you, you were being signaled that it was time to get up.

Wait a minute… you don't own a nightstand yet.

You turned your head, the confusion evaporating quickly as you realized exactly where you were. You remember the bar, the attractive woman you knew you wanted the second you were aware of her presence, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And you couldn't help but smile when you remembered just how successful you were in accomplishing that. But now it was almost six in the morning and you had to get ready for work.

You didn't want to wake her up. The slivers of light sneaking past the curtains to show the peacefulness across her face in the midst of slumber was the best thing you've ever seen. You didn't want to be that kind of one-night stand, being unnecessarily loud, not even being thoughtful of the one who doesn't need to wake up at the ass crack of dawn. No, you were going to be considerate and make a quiet move to the bathroom.

You kicked your feet over the bed, but you still weren't entirely used to the fact that a nightstand was present. You bit your tongue when your leg smacked into the front of the bedside table with a loud thump, and you weren't quick enough to catch the falling lamp, flinching when it fell to the floor with a crash.

A peal of light laughter came from behind you as you stood up, bringing the sheet along with you and using your phone to survey the damage done to the lamp. And, boy, that lamp did not survive that fall.

"I'll pay for that," you said, looking toward her. How does that even happen? The one time you wanted to make a smooth exit and the nightstand wanted to put up a fight. An inanimate object was your downfall this early in the morning and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. "I'm sorry to wake you."

You were defeated.

"Are you getting in the shower?" Her voice was soft with no hint of annoyance in her tone. Was she not mad at you for pulling her out of the pits of her deep slumber? You'd be pretty annoyed that you were woken up by your one-night stand at six in the morning because they couldn't handle the nightstand.

She should at least be mad about the lamp. 

"Uh, yeah?" You wonder if that was okay. This wasn't your place, after all. Yours wasn't completely unpacked yet and you didn't want someone as gorgeous as her to see that storage container apartment you got going on.

She moved to flick on the lamp resting on the nightstand that hasn't embarrassed you (yet), replacing the morning sunrise slipping through the closed curtains with a brighter, artificial light. She ran a hand through her hair, getting some of it out of her face, as she sat up in the bed. You couldn’t help but stare at her - the way she tugged those locks brought memories rushing into your mind as you subconsciously brought your bottom lip in between your teeth in a gentle bite. "I'll join you," she said.

"You'll… what?" The smile she sent you at your confusion made your heart skip more than just a couple of beats. "Uh, we just met last night… in a bar, no less."

She raised an eyebrow, though the smile still remained on her face. "We also just slept together, Y/N. It's nothing I haven't seen."

You swallowed the saliva forming in your mouth so hard that it made the actual gulping noise. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment once more as you looked away from her, scratching the back of your neck. "That's fair," you confessed. You looked back at her and laughed as she hopped out of the bed with a smoothness that you wished you had earlier. It would've saved you from a lifetime of embarrassment.

She raced you to the bathroom, making you laugh harder at her little victory yelp when she beat you there. You wrapped your arms around her, bringing her close as you used your foot to close the door behind you.

It has been only a few hours since you parted ways. You walked down the halls, your mind occupied by… her. Her face, her hands, her smile and touch and laugh. You remembered every single second about last night and you just wanted to do it all over. Relive it once more. But you know how a one-night stand works, and there's a high possibility that you'll never see that woman ever again.

"Ma'am." You turned your head on instinct to see someone running up to you, holding a clipboard out along with a pen. "Just need a quick signature."

"What's your name?" you questioned as you accepted the items she was holding for you.

"Jennifer, ma'am," she answered, even throwing a little bow in there. You couldn't help but shake your head with a smile, quickly scanning the paper before scribbling your signature over the line, turning your head to meet her gaze.

"It's nice to meet you," you told her. Your eyes were drawn to something over her shoulder like a magnet to metal, your next words getting caught in your throat when you saw her leaning against the wall, focusing intently on the person she was talking to. You handed the woman the clipboard (her name was irrelevant now, you couldn't think of anything coherent at the moment) as you walked past her like a zombie ambling toward fresh brains.

You reached Wanda, looking at the agent she was conversing with. It only took mere eye contact for the man to send you a stiff nod before immediately walking away, turning to look at her.

"What're you doing here?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, almost just as confused as you were. "I work here." The crease in between your eyebrows only deepened with more confusion. "I'm an Avenger." Even with her clarification, it didn't make it any more clear to you. You don't remember her name on the list. She must be a new recruit. "Why are you here?"

You opened your mouth to answer but were interrupted when someone stepped up to you.

"We're ready for you, Director." You looked at the older man, reading his name badge as Phil Coulson. That answered her question for you, your eyes going back to Wanda to see the raised eyebrow and tight lips.

"Director?" She looked away from you, getting herself lost in thought. "Well, that's not going to work well."

You cleared your throat, your jaw clenching tightly as you turned to the agent. "Thanks, Coulson. I'll be there in a moment."

Coulson sent you a nod and left the two of you be, turning back to Wanda. As she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening, you waited for Coulson to be completely out of earshot.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're a new Avenger?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't mention that you're the new director," she countered.

You opened your mouth on instinct to rebuttal but closed it when you realized she had a point. You groaned, running your hands down your face. This is the worst-case scenario. It would've been better if you never saw her again compared to this, though just the thought of that pulled your heartstrings. You don’t really know how to imagine never meeting her.

"You're the boss," she said, once again pulling you out of your thoughts, "aren't you supposed to at least know who the Avengers are?"

"They sent the files, but I didn't read them," you confessed. "I wanted to meet the team members face to face." You did, however, read the names on the files and she wasn't there. You said her name so many times last night, you'd definitely remember seeing it on a folder. She must've been a last-minute addition, SHIELD not having enough time before your first day to compile and send over a file. 

At the same time, would you have been able to stop yourself from approaching her at the bar? No. The way her lips formed a pout made you want to do anything to wipe that away, so you would've ignored logic and spoken to her. You still would've made her laugh. You still would've made her smile for the first time in what seemed like forever. You still would've made her moan and pant your name as your skins melded together underneath her blankets, lightly scratching her back as she made you-

"Where did you just go?" She snapped you out of your thoughts again, but this time you were a bit upset about it. Your cheeks flushed red, burning hot. The smirk on her face told you that she had an idea, but you shook your head and ignored her question. 

"You are aware that this… thing can't happen anymore, right?" As your finger bounced in between you and her, her smile expanded, tinged with a mischievous glint that hinted at something devious lurking beneath. You found yourself needing to bite your tongue harshly in hopes that the pain would distract you from the warmth igniting in your gut.

"Obviously," she assured you and you sighed with relief. Now that the two of you were on the same page, maybe now you can stop stressing out about it. You knew for certain that you wouldn't be able to hold back when it came to her, so it was nice to see that at least one of you had some self-control. Quite honestly, the only thing stopping you from dragging her to your office and feeling her right then and there was the fact that you don't exactly know where your office was located just yet.

Maybe someday…

No. The relationship between you and Wanda Maximoff could not come to be. No matter how strong the connection, how tempted you’d be, it could never come to fruition. The unfortunate reality was that your relationship with the woman standing in front of you had to end before it even began.

That thought abandoned your mind when you watched her teeth catch her bottom lip, raising an eyebrow at you seductively. Your breath caught in your throat and your thoughts immediately became a jumbled, contradicting mess. She laughed as you finally managed to utter, "You're going to get me fired, Wanda."

"Director." You didn't turn, losing yourself in her eyes. You wanted to touch her. To take her face in your hands and connect your lips right at this moment, in front of everybody. New job be damned. And the annoyance that demanded your attention cleared their throat impatiently.

You turned your head to look at the addition to your conversation to see Coulson standing there, nodding his head at Wanda, a sign for her to skedaddle.

"I'll see you later, Director," Wanda hummed as she walked away, your head turning back so you could watch her leave.

"It's been more than a moment," Coulson pointed out, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away from Wanda's retreating figure to look at him.

You blinked. "What?"

"You're late," he clarified.

Your eyes widened. "Oh, right! What are you waiting for, Coulson? Let's get a move on." You gestured for him to lead the way, patting him on the shoulder when he rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

"It's a good thing you're getting acquainted with the Avengers," he said as you walked alongside him. "You two know each other?"

"Not at all," you stated.

He hummed thoughtfully, clearly not believing you in the least bit. "That was Wanda Maximoff. She's got magic hands."

The snort that escaped your nose was involuntary. "She does indeed." You hadn't realized you said it until Coulson stopped moving to stare at you, his eyebrows bunched together, bewildered. You cleared your throat, your back straightening as you clarified, "That's what she told me earlier. She just didn't really tell me what she meant by it." You were right, there is no longer any more doubt in your mind that she was definitely going to get you fired. "Why don't you tell me more about Maximoff?" Though phrased as a question, he knew it wasn't one.

He continued forward and you easily matched his speed, walking alongside him. "She has a long list of powers," he started. "Telekinesis, energy and mind manipulation, and she can read thoughts. I’m willing to bet there’s more, she just hasn’t unlocked them yet."

You stopped walking this time, trying hard to keep your composure. "Mind reading?" So, she definitely knew what you had been thinking about earlier. "That's… nice to know." 

Observing your reaction to the subject being discussed, he quickly decided to switch gears. “Well, she’s not the only one on the team. There are other Avengers you have yet to meet. We’ll start with…” He gestured for you to follow as he led you through a set of doors, revealing a sprawling laboratory that occupied most of the floor.

Pausing at the entrance, you watched as Tony Stark worked intently on a holographic keyboard. It was only when Coulson began walking deeper into the lab that you followed, cautiously advancing until you stood in close proximity to the brilliant inventor.

"Who's disturbing my bubble?" The hologram vanished as his fingers moved away from it, turning his head to look at you.

"New director," Coulson explained. "We're just making the rounds and you're the first stop."

"Y/N," you extended your hand towards him. His gaze shifted from your hand to your eyes and, in that moment, it became abundantly clear that he was not going to meet the handshake. You quickly withdrew your hand and let it fall to your side.

"Tony Stark, but you already knew that." He smiled at you, though it seemed a bit forced as his eyes assessed you from head to toe, sizing you up. "You're a bit young to be a director of something like SHIELD, aren't you?"

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of annoyance at his comment. Without thinking, the words slipped out before you could sensor yourself, "You're a bit old to be playing dress-up, aren't you?" As soon as your response left your mouth, you realized the potential consequences of your remark. Insulting the man who was throwing a lot of his money into this agency was not the smartest move. All it would take is a simple “adios” and you’d be out of a job.

To your surprise, Tony simply smiled widely and extended his hand toward you. Stunned, you accepted the strong handshake. “It’s refreshing to have someone bite back," he said, glancing at Coulson. "Take notes."

"Yes, sir," Coulson agreed, nodding with a forced smile. You couldn't help but grin, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Coulson gestured for you to follow him, you lingered for a moment to watch Tony go back to work, biting on a pen when he watched a small simulation of his suit taking on a battle, to which the suit loses. He huffed in exasperation, taking the pen out of his mouth and tossing it aside. It made you wonder how long he had been tirelessly working on this project.

"I know someone who specializes in nanotech if that's something you're interested in," you confidently suggested, capturing the billionaire's attention. Ignoring Coulson’s constant attempts to guide you away, you continued, "I can introduce you to her if you'd like."

A spark of curiosity ignited in Tony’s eyes as he reached for the pen he had just thrown, handing it to you along with a scrap of paper. With a grin, you swiftly scribbled down the specialist’s name, eager to offer a valuable connection. Tony glanced at Coulson with piqued interest, “Where’d you find this one?”

“She found us, sir,” Coulson replied, monotonously, before subtly guiding you out of the lab with a hand on your back. "The rest of the team would be a lot easier to please."

"I'm not looking to please them." Well, not all of them, at least. There was one person you found yourself wanting to please more than most. She did things to you that you just can't ignore. "My job is to lead them. I'm not here to make friends." Or lovers, but you refrained from adding that.

"Nice to know," he stated, leading the way into the training room. "Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, meet your new director."

The pair, entangled in a fierce sparring session, paused and separated as Coulson made the introduction. It was evident that they were skilled fighters, evenly matched and fully engrossed in their training. Or they were just taking it easy. Friends normally don’t beat the shit out of each other just for fun. You shook their hands.

“Directors usually don’t properly introduce themselves,” Clint remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he rested his hands on his hips with a heavy breath. “They just read our files and assume they know us.”

“They sent the files, but I didn’t bother with them,” you confessed, shrugging loosely. “Bonds grow stronger when everybody’s on the same page, not reading personnel off of a piece of paper.” Glancing at Coulson, you added, “I’m making this guy walk me around the building to introduce me to the team face-to-face.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips as her arms folded over her chest. “Did you meet Steve yet?” Coulson fidgeted for a moment beside you, and one of your brows quirked up with interest at the sound of her teasing tone.

“I’m sure he’s next,” you replied, a faint smirk lifting a corner of your mouth when the redhead’s smile only grew wider. “I’m sensing an inside joke here.”

“Coulson is a bit of a fan of Rogers,” she explained.

“I have all his trading cards,” Coulson interjected, cutting the conversation off before it went much further. “We should get to it.”

“Can’t wait to see him, huh?” she joked, her grin turning sly as she stepped back. While they returned to their sparring, you and Coulson made your way out of the room.

“All of his trading cards?” you asked. “Do you have them laminated?”

“Each and every one of them,” he confirmed, and you could sense the pride hiding in his words.

He led you into the war room, where Steve Rogers stood, engrossed in a discussion with other agents about an ongoing mission. As the two of you entered, the captain’s attention shifted, and he straightened up, displaying his characteristic posture.

“Captain Rogers, this is Y/N, the new director,” Coulson announced, adopting a more professional demeanor in front of the patriotic hero. Natasha’s description of him being a fan seemed under-exaggerated, but maybe that was the point. You’re relieved to see that the team wasn’t all as serious as Coulson here.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Steve greeted respectfully, offering a small nod from his position across the table.

You pressed your lips together, a mischievous grin forming as his eyes traveled up and down your figure. “I know you all think I have big shoes to fill,” you began, acknowledging the weight of the previous director’s legacy. “Nick Fury was one of the best, but I’m here to bring about change. I’m not looking to repeat history.”

“I can respect that,” Steve commented, crossing his arms over his chest. A slight smile tugged at his lips, and you could feel Coulson’s subtle restlessness next to you. He was clearly worried you might embarrass him.

“What’s your current mission?” you asked, leaving Coulson’s side to join Steve at the table, studying the scattered papers.

“We’re dealing with drug dealers hijacking ambulances for narcotics,” he explained, arranging the papers to give you a better view. 

You looked up at him, a hint of surprise on your face. "I didn't expect a big-time Avenger to be doing a simple drug bust," you commented.

"You’re not the only one around here looking to make changes," he said. 

You grinned. "I can respect that."

Coulson cleared his throat and you both looked over him. "If you'll excuse us, Captain. We have a busy day ahead.”

"Of course," Steve said. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"As you, Cap." You accepted his hand when he offered it over the table, giving a strong, brief handshake before releasing you. You walked behind Coulson as you left the room, grinning widely as you moved to his side. As soon as you were clear from Steve's earshot, you spoke. "You're jealous." It wasn't a question, and Coulson didn't show any expression in the statement. What did it take to coax a genuine smile out of this stoic guy?

"Thor is off-world dealing with some other stuff," Coulson said, ultimately ignoring your comment. “Banner has been MIA since the incident in Sokovia. And, since you’re already acquainted with Maximoff, I’ll show you to your office.”

Your heart fluttered at her name, immediately looking away from him to hide the faded blush forming on your cheeks. Why did her name make you feel this way? You had just only met her last night, so there weren't any long-time feelings between the two of you. But just thinking about her is taking away your ability to breathe. You didn’t struggle to follow your tour guide, but you did have trouble straightening your mind. You had hoped these introductions would last longer, giving you more time to avoid having to deal with everything. But without any distractions, you were forced to succumb to the realization that Wanda Maximoff was going to be in your life for as long as you were the director.

"Here." You released a deep sigh when Coulson finally stopped to gesture towards a door, giving you the distraction you needed to catch your breath. “This is your office.” You released a puff of air at the closed door, your name engraved on a plate nailed in place. You couldn’t let the emotions get to you - not in front of Coulson, at least - but this seemed to have made your title a lot more official. “The door’s unlocked.” If you didn’t know any better, that was a passive way of rushing you. “We also left you a little treat as a welcome present.”

Your hand pressed down on the handle, pushing slowly against the door with the agent right on your heels, and you managed to look up just in time to see something in your office that was most definitely not Coulson’s “little treat.” You quickly backed out of the room, bringing the door with you as you turned to face him. A nervous laugh nearly crawled out of your throat, but you managed to swallow it just in time. “I’m pretty sure I can handle this part on my own, Coulson.” The man didn’t argue with you, shrugging and walking away without another word as you slipped into your office. “What are you doing?”

“This isn’t the kitchen?” Wanda sat at your chair, not even bothering a glance in your direction as she casually ate what looked like a croissant (most likely the treat Coulson was referring to). You huffed, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to the desk. Finally, she looked toward you, a smirk tugging a corner of her lips. “I could’ve sworn it was…”

With every step you took, your heart raced harder and faster. You couldn’t deny the intense attraction you felt towards the woman occupying your desk, even though it seemed so sudden and unexpected. She leaned back in your chair, crossing her legs and taking another bite of the croissant, slow and drawn out as she maintained eye contact with you. You couldn’t help but notice how the crumbs fell onto her lap, biting the inside of your cheek rather harshly as your breathing hitched in your throat.

“Is there something you need, Agent Maximoff?”

She quirked an eyebrow at you, though that smirk still lingered on her lips as she hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Agent Maximoff?”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” you replied.

“It is,” she answered, shrugging as she added, “but it’s a much different turn from what you were calling me last night.”

Her words hit you with surprising calmness, as if she were merely commenting on the weather. You struggled to hide the impact they had on you, the way they made your stomach twist and turn in a way that would make a professional dancer jealous. You had a job to do, and engaging in whatever this was with one of your employees was definitely not part of the job description.

You took a deep, steadying breath and reminded yourself of the boundaries that needed to be maintained. This was the type of position people would kill for (literally) and you didn’t want to blow it away by fraternizing. No matter how tempting the allure of a forbidden connection might be, you had to separate yourself from the matter. “I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression,” you expressed, your voice composed but firm. “Our interactions last night were outside the scope of our professional relationship. Neither you nor myself could’ve predicted this kind of… predicament. As of now, we need to focus on our respective roles within SHIELD.”

Wanda’s smirk faded slightly, and she leaned back in the chair. “Is that what you want?” she questioned, her tone holding a hint of defiance. “To just pretend like it never happened?”

You met her gaze - the way her eyes were soft nearly made you take back everything you had just said - but you maintained confidence in the matter, your expression determined to just rip this Band-Aid off and toss it in the garbage. “We have to be realistic, Agent Maximoff. We can not carry a personal relationship. It’s for the best if we maintain a professional distance moving forward.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, and a flicker of disappointment passed through her eyes. “I understand,” she said quietly. She stood up, popping the rest of the croissant into her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. “You want to carry on like strangers.” A friendly smile lifted her lips, and you could feel a tug against your heart at the sudden loss of warmth.

You nodded, standing your ground. “It’s the right thing to do,” you affirmed, but your voice wavered slightly as you cleared your throat. As you spoke, you couldn’t help but notice how slowly Wanda was approaching you, as if she were a lioness hunting a gazelle. Panic fluttered in your chest, causing you to take a small step back. You made the mistake of meeting her intense, dangerously hungry green eyes. “I’m the Director, you’re an Avenger,” you stammered, your confidence suddenly faltering. The realization of the inappropriate proximity between the two of you struck you like lightning as the back of your legs bumped into a couch you didn’t bother to notice when entering the office, stepping to the side so your back hit the wall behind you instead. Wanda was now mere inches away, her presence enveloping you. Panic and desire wrestled within you, making it hard to form coherent thoughts. “I’m your boss. We…” You trailed off, a sharp breath catching in your constricted throat.

At that moment, Wanda’s grin transformed into a wicked smirk, her eyes seemingly penetrating your very soul. The air between you crackled with tension, and you could feel the heat radiating from her body, or perhaps it was the fire building up behind your flushed cheeks.

You were torn between the weight of responsibility and the magnetic pull of desire. The line between professional boundaries and personal longing blurred as the intensity of the moment consumed you both. The electric pressure hung in the air, captivating you and her in a web of conflicting emotions. Time seemed to slow down as you battled with the overwhelming desire and the consequences of succumbing to it.

“We can’t…” you managed to utter, your voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling feeble against the mounting temptation. Every fiber of your being yearned to give in, to explore the forbidden depths of this connection with Wanda. But the weight of your position as her superior, the potential repercussions, and the need to maintain professionalism weighed heavily on your conscience.

Wanda’s smirk only grew more wicked, her eyes gleaming with mischief and raw hunger. She leaned in closer, her breath brushing across your lips as she whispered, her tone dripping with seduction, “Who says we can’t? Sometimes rules are meant to be broken.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between reason and desire. You could feel the fire burning within you overwhelming any remnants of restraint. With a surge of courage, you closed the gap between you, surrendering to the intoxicating pull of her presence. The world around you faded away as your lips met in a fiery embrace, unleashing a torrent of passion that had been brewing beneath the surface. Walls crumbled, and the pressure of responsibility melted away as you both embraced that forbidden desire that had blossomed between you. In that stolen moment, you chose to abandon caution and surrender to the allure of a love that defied expectations. 

Wanda didn’t hesitate to return the kiss, making it more intense, more fervent. You were ultimately pinned against the wall by her body when she moved to get closer to you, feeling the tip of her tongue swipe your bottom lip, silently asking for permission, and she swallowed your moan when you granted it. Her hands gripped your hips to tug you flush into her, sparking a burning sensation in your core, and it only seemed to get hotter when her fingers danced up your body, slipping under your shirt to surf the smooth skin of your curves.

You pulled away breathlessly, your head falling back to the wall as her lips landed on your neck with no mercy, licking and sucking any spot she could touch. You attempted to say her name, to bring these overwhelming feelings to an end, but the only sound you could produce was a groan when her nails dug into you to leave crescent-shaped imprints on your shoulder blades. 

“You’re not doing a very good job at keeping things professional, Director,” she whispered, her lips suddenly brushing against your earlobe. She laughed, and your stomach tightened at the breathy sound so close to your ears. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were enjoying what I’m doing to you.” You gasped when her knee squeezed itself between your legs, pressing against you in a way that nearly had you whimpering. “I love the sounds you make for me, Y/N.”

“W- Wanda,” you whispered. “Ple…”

“That’s it, baby,” she breathed, laughing gently as she pulled away slightly to meet your gaze. Her eyes were dark with desire, hooded by a smoldering intensity that mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want.” She smirked, thoroughly enjoying this moment. “Do you want this?” She picked her knee up higher, pressing into you harder, causing your body to jerk forward at the feeling of her touch. Everything inside of you burned painfully, desperately. One of her hands descended across your spine, bringing it around to drag a finger down your gut until it reached the hem of your pants. Chills covered your arms when you felt her dive in without a second thought, an inhuman sound getting caught in your throat. The wide smile crawling on her face told you she found exactly what you wanted.

The sound of a knock on the door shattered the fragile bubble of intimacy that had enveloped you and Wanda. Time seemed to slow down as she moved away from you, your hearts pounding in sync. The handle turned, and your chest tightened with a surge of panic, fearing that your secret would be exposed.

With a casual nonchalance, Wanda stepped aside, effortlessly transitioning into a composed state. She sauntered over to the couch you had already forgotten about, settling herself as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, you seemed to struggle to regain your composure, attempting to mask any signs of the passionate encounter that had just taken place.

The interrupter entered the room without a second knock, Phil Coulson pausing at the door when his eyes landed on Wanda before they flickered to you. He cleared his throat, crossing his hands in front of him as he said, “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just a meeting, Coulson,” you claimed confidently, fully collected at the sight of your deputy, raising an eyebrow at him as you folded your arms over your chest. “We just finished.”

“Not really,” Wanda countered, and you didn’t need to look at her to know there was a teasing smirk faintly tugging a corner of her lips, “but I’m more than willing to wait to thoroughly finish later on, Director.” You managed to fight the shivers that rode your body, but the chills that erupted across your spine were a different story. You wondered if Coulson could hear the way she calls you Director, or if it was all in your head. She stepped into your field of vision when she made her way toward the door, giving Coulson a happy smile as she rested her hand on the door handle. She looked at you over her shoulder, and you could feel your cheeks flush when you saw the darkened look in her eyes.

The door seemed to echo when she closed it behind her, sealing you and Coulson in the room. His words cut through the lingering tension, bringing your attention back to him. “I apologize for interrupting, ma'am,” he began, his voice laced with urgency, “but we have a bit of an emergency.” He stepped closer, holding a tablet that illuminated with an image on the screen. “It seems that Thor’s notorious brother, Loki, has returned to Earth.”

The weight of the situation settled upon you, dispelling the remnants of desire and reminding you of your responsibilities as a leader.  As Coulson played the video, you watched a seemingly ordinary scene: Loki calmly walking down a sidewalk. It felt odd to watch. Loki’s presence seemed to always bring a catalyst for chaos and destruction, so you find it difficult to believe that his return could just be taking a stroll, enjoying the sunshine.

Coulson’s gaze met yours, and you could see the faint colors of concern clouding his eyes. “We need to assess the situation and determine his intentions,” he expressed. “While it may seem inconspicuous now, we can’t underestimate the threat he poses.” The memory of Loki’s previous misdeeds lingered in your mind, a vivid reminder of the destruction he had wrought. It was clear that immediate action was necessary to prevent another catastrophe.

“I don’t want to waste time waiting for him to make a move,” you declared, your arms crossing firmly over your chest. Your gaze shifted back to the tablet, a sense of urgency seemingly squeezing your heart. “Loki didn’t return just to enjoy the scenery. Bring him in.”

Coulson nodded, tucking the tablet under his arm. “I’ll mobilize our resources and initiate the necessary protocols,” he affirmed, determination steeling his expression. “We’ll do everything in our power to locate and apprehend Loki swiftly.”

You strode purposefully past him, making your way to your desk. With a swift motion, you brushed away the loose croissant crumbs from the chair before settling down. As you took your seat, your voice carried an air of authority, “I trust you understand the importance of conducting this mission covertly.” Your attention moved away from the man standing in front of the door to one of the papers resting on the surface of your desk. “We cannot afford to have the public become aware of Loki’s presence, not after the chaos that ensued during his previous visit to our planet.”

He nodded in agreement. “I will assemble a team that can operate discreetly,” he replied.

“Make sure Maximoff is included in the roster,” you stated unequivocally, your voice firm and decisive as you reached for a pen.

Coulson hesitated, stepping forward to stand on the opposite side of your desk. He cleared his throat, attempting to voice his concerns, but you were quick to shut him down, “She may be fresh, but, from what you’ve told me about her, her powers have the potential to match Loki’s.” Your eyes locked onto his, and the next words that came from your mouth held a hint of a challenge. “Did you mislead me about her abilities, Deputy Coulson?”

His head shook vigorously. “No, ma'am,” he responded quickly, his tone filled with conviction.

“Then what seems to be the problem?” you pressed, a brow arching with curiosity.

He squirmed under your scrutinizing gaze, his discomfort palpable. “She hasn’t fully gained the trust of the others,” he claimed. 

A smile played at the corners of your lips as you leaned back in your chair, assessing Coulson intently while tapping the tip of the pen against your palm. “This mission presents the perfect opportunity for her to earn that trust,” you countered. “I don’t recall my orders being up for debate.”

“Understood, Director,” he responded, resolved. You could see the way his jaw tightened in irritation, but you chose to overlook it as he added, “Agent Maximoff will be included in the mission.” You nodded, acknowledging his commitment, and watched as he walked away, disappearing through the closing door.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you released a heavy sigh, feeling the full weight of being director bearing down on you. Exhaustion crept through your body, and you sank deeper into your chair, running a hand over your face in an attempt to dispel some of the weariness that had settled upon you. You tossed your pen back onto the desk when a realization dawned on you…

Today was just day one.

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! I have a story request:

Undertaker (Black Butler) x Ciels sister!reader where maybe during the Campana arc reader kinda helps Ut. Like, maybe the fact that the dead are going to turn into zombies is almost revealed because (for example) a zombie breaks out of their coffin already, so reader lures it back? Idk. I just really want to read about the reader helping Ut because she wants to see him happy and smile and whatnot (I always get so happy when Ut laughs). Seeing as this would be yandere maybe reader is also just a bit obsessed with Ut? Not full blown yandere, just slightly codependent obsession?

Thank you! (Thank you if you do write it. If you don't write it then thank you for all your other wonderful stories)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This was a bit tricky considering the second part of your request, which I couldn't make it fit here, so I'm just mentioning rather than showing. Overall, I hope you enjoy it. Undertaker is always a delight to write to.

The night was heavy with tension, the air thick with the scent of incense and something far less holy - much heavier, as rotten blood and stitched limbs. The Campania’s lavish halls were brimming with the murmurs, laughters and music, all unaware of the dark secret that writhed below the surface - bodies resting in coffins, waiting for the signal to rise and attack.

Amidst this carefully constructed chaos, you stood near the back of the room, your eyes subtly darting from side to side, scanning for any signs of trouble. You had been on edge since Undertaker had whispered his plan to you, a smile playing on his lips, as if this entire twisted game was no more than a grand performance he had orchestrated.

And yet, when he had explained what he needed to do, you could see the glint of madness, the excitement in his eyes that had sent a chill down your spine. But it was that same glint you couldn’t resist, the way his eyes seemed to light up, the way he smiled that you jumped right onto his plan without him needing to ask you to.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

There was a shuffling sound, barely perceptible, and you stiffened, your hand clenching around the fan you held. Glancing around, your gaze quickly fell toward the source. One of the coffins was rocking slightly, the lid shifting as something within struggled to break free. Panic surged through you; this was too early.

The guests would see, and everything would unravel. Undertaker’s plan would be ruined.

Quickly, you moved closer, slipping past the other coffins with practiced ease. You reached the coffin just as the lid burst open, and a decaying hand clawed its way out, grasping at the air. The corpse’s eyes were wide, empty, and hungry, a sight that would have sent anyone else running in terror. But not you. You had seen far worse, working alongside Undertaker for a few months now.

You had heard Undertaker’s tales, his gentle whispers of how he had perfected this experiment, how it was all leading to this moment. You knew the lengths he would go to for his morbid fascination. And you loved the dreamy look on his eyes, even if you didn't quite understood what he planed to achieve with that.

With a calm that surprised even yourself, you stepped forward, positioning yourself between the coffin and the rest of the room. “Shh, shh… it's alright, dearie.” You whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the murmurs of conversation and the soft strains of the orchestra.

The zombie's head jerked towards you, its movements stiff and unnatural, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you slowly extended your hand, letting it grasp at your fingers, and gently guided it back down. “I know you’re restless and confused, but you need to wait just a little longer,” you continued, almost as if you were speaking to a child. “Go back, and I promise you’ll be able to stretch your legs soon.”

“Well, aren’t you a brave little thing?” He drawled, his voice low, a touch of amusement lacing his tone as he gently caressed your cheek with a soft touch. “I must say, I didn’t expect my sweet little assistant to take matters into her own hands.”

With surprising compliance, the creature obeyed, retreating back into its dark confinement. You gently closed the lid, making sure it was secure, and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You could not be afraid, yet it was terrifying to speak with a dead being.

Turning back, you found yourself face-to-face with Undertaker, his lips curved into a wide, knowing grin.

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you couldn’t help but return his smile, even if just a little. “I couldn’t let your plan fall apart,” you said, keeping your voice light, though your heart was still pounding. “Besides, I know how much this means to you… I couldn’t stand to see you disappointed.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers lingered against your skin, the touch affectionate. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the dim light. “I’m not afraid because I want to see you happy,” you admitted quietly, averting your gaze, afraid to see his reaction. “I know how you are when you’re excited, and… I like it.”

Undertaker’s grin widened, and he took a step closer, his gloved fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Oh, my dear, always so considerate, always thinking about me,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You know, you’re quite the enigma yourself. So delicate, yet so fearless when it comes to helping me play with my little experiments. Are not afraid of them? Of me?”

Undertaker’s eyes softened, and for a moment, his grin melted into something more tender, more genuine. He tilted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the look he gave you was almost reverent. “You’re quite the fascinating creature yourself, little dove.”

His voice barely above a whisper. “Always so eager to please, even when you should be running the other way. I wonder… do you even realize what you’re getting yourself into?”

You knew you should have been afraid, but instead, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest. There was something almost intoxicating about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the world who could understand him, who could share in his dark, twisted delight.

“I don’t care,” you replied softly, your voice steady. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care what happens.”

Undertaker chuckled, the sound low and rich, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve already chosen your side, my dear,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “After all, there’s no turning back now… and I do so love having you by my side. I won't let you get away now, not even if your little brother found us out, not even if the whole world goes up in flames, you're my pretty assistant."

As you stood there, locked in Undertaker’s gaze, you realized you didn’t mind the darkness that surrounded him. In fact, it was that very darkness that drew you in, binding you to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

A smug smile grew on your lips. "Good to know because I'm not planning to let anyone separate us."

And as the night continued, you found yourself more certain than ever that you would do whatever it took to keep that smile on his face, even if it meant dancing along the edge of madness with him.

[merakiui]

Hii!! I love your Lunar Love Hotel event so much! I didn't see any mention of you closing the requests yet, so I hope they're still open! (Otherwise, feel free to delete this.)

I would really like Red Bean Mochi and Blueberry Muffins for Rollo? I adore the idea of him leaving one of those with just the most creepy undertones, and completely anonymous, because it's the only way he can sate these vile feelings for a little while :') But feel free to do whatever you want with the concept!

yandere!rollo flamm x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors, stalking, obsession, slightly morbid/dark thoughts note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

i. the diary of rollo flamm, in which you will find various love letter drafts and daily musings eloquently scrawled within perfumed pages.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『1』

For the hour I remained in the café, you smiled a total of thirty-seven times, one smile per customer and one or two depending on coworkers you’re well-acquainted with. I would have counted your every laugh, every blink of your perfect, pretty eyes, but then that would be like counting your every breath, every heartbeat, and it would be impossible to come up with an accurate sum when you’re always so...alive. One breath could be two taken at once, and a single blink could simply be my own eyes shutting and opening before yours do. Therefore, it is impossible to truly quantify your every movement without looking completely, utterly, foolishly enthralled. 

I suppose this feeling is what you might call love. For all of the romances I have read and all of the romances I have witnessed in this city, whether intentional or not, the love I feel is not bitter or sweet like some might describe. It simply exists; it lights a crackling flame within the concrete hearth that is my heart. I should liken it to warmth—to linens fresh from the dryer or spiced mulberries or bright, dancing fire. It is comforting like the winter coat I don in order to combat this deathly chill. 

I have never felt this way before. 

Today, when I ducked inside to avoid the frigid snowfall outside, the bell above the door announced my arrival, and you were there at the register as always. You smiled at me, once when our eyes met and a second time when you had asked me how I was doing and I had said, “Cold.” You laughed, but I am not a comedian. I will not pretend to be one for your sake, but I appreciate your hospitality all the same. Your optimism, even if manufactured for the customer, is inviting. 

Perhaps you reserve such reactions for me?

I visit this café every Sunday at exactly 10:30 in the morning. It’s important to be methodical in every aspect of one’s life. Schedules are necessary; they create order and peace. I have visited so often that you know me as a regular. You know my name and how it’s spelled. You write your L’s slanted and your O’s pumpkin-shaped (most likely because Halloween is approaching and it’s your attempt at being festive, even if the O’s look more like obscure shapes than pumpkins). You look at me when I step over the threshold into a room of coffee-scented comforts and you say, “A warm croissant and a cup of classic espresso with milk and foam, right?” And I nod every time.

You know me well. I will know you even better. 

Your name tag reads (Name). It’s a lovely name. I could write lines of wonderful words describing the way it feels when I speak it to myself in front of a mirror or when I whisper it late at night as though it’s a secret. But I will not, as I am not usually very poetic, and that is a task suited for a poet, which I am not. 

Surely you have a surname. Most often do. However, in the event that you are lacking one or are not too fond of the one you currently possess, you are welcome to take mine.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『2』

My first attempt at a love letter is as follows:

You are the warmth that melts icecaps and reshapes glaciers. No, not quite. Am I trying to compare you to the catastrophe that is global warming? Think romantically, Rollo. This is the City of Flowers, after all. Surely there are better phrasings...

You are melodious like the Bell of Salvation like the sweetest birdsong. You are warm and fluffy like a croissant. You are love incarnate. If I could pry you open rib by rib and live within your beating, blood-filled heart, we would be together forever. Bound eternally by flesh and blood.

These lines feel rather crude. How do romance authors capture the complexities of love so easily? Beautiful words come from the deepest pits of the heart, or so they all claim. The words I wish to tell you come from my very soul, yet I cannot seem to transcribe them here. Should I be direct? But then blunt honesty is not nearly as romantic as flowery prose.

Dearest, sweetest you,

For every smile you grant me, I live another year in good health. For every syllable of laughter and delight I hear, I feel inclined to give you the world, whether in ruins or not, if only to witness your happiness.

I suppose a start is a start, even if it’s a depressingly abysmal one. I hope this week passes fast. I’d like to see you as soon as possible for some much-needed inspiration and, of course, so I can watch you.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『3』 

I arrived at the usual time, but you were too absorbed in conversation with a customer to notice me. I consider myself a fair, level-headed man, and for that reason envy is not usually an issue. But the casual manner with which that fool wrote their number on your arm, tattooing your perfect, pretty skin in sinful ink... You smiled and laughed with them, promising to call them after your shift, your perfect, pretty eyes ablaze with excitement or wonder or awe or... I’d much sooner poke them out with sewing needles than witness you fawn over numbers. I watched all of it from my place in line, gripping my handkerchief in such a tight fist my knuckles blanched. 

You should know jealousy makes a man like myself monstrous.

It’s important that I keep this diary to detail all of my innermost desires so that I won’t feel compelled to act on them. But in that moment I had wished that, if you were to receive a phone number, it would have been given to you on a piece of paper. Paper is easy to shred and discard and burn. It is not an easy feat to sever an arm from the elbow. 

But I can be patient, as I often am, so that you will come to love me in the same way I love you. 

I write this as I watch you flitting about behind the counter to prepare my espresso. I wonder if you ever catch a break. This café is quiet on Sunday mornings, but I’m certain it’s much more lively during the week. I wonder if it’s ever empty and you sit in here on your phone, waiting for something to happen. I wonder what positions you might like to try on the counter, the tables, the booth I’m sitting in...

I had to shut this diary momentarily when you came to deliver my order. Sometimes I wonder if you would share my sentiments on magic. I almost asked when we talked briefly. Your perfect, pretty fingers were drumming along the circular, silver tray as you looked at me, smiling your perfect, pretty smile. I asked if you were studying anything. You told me you were taking a gap year, and then you had asked if I was a journalist because, in your words, I am “always scribbling away with your nose in that book.”

I suppose I am, in some manner of the word. I smiled at you, sipping from my espresso, and said, “The subject I’m studying is very special. One-of-a-kind, you might say.” A poor excuse at flirting.

I am not a flirt, and I would never pretend to be one. I am genuine in all aspects of my life, especially when it comes to love. You must know this. 

You were going to ask me to elaborate, but the bell at the door announced the arrival of more customers and you drifted away from me with an apologetic smile. I caught sight of the number scrawled on your arm as you retreated. Magic could numb you well enough while I bring the blade down, so fast it will be but a mere flash. I should not cut your arm. I should not hurt you.

I should not love you to this extent. 

Like the Crimson Lotus, you are a vibrant, fiery temptation. I fear the contents of my chest have already been reduced to ash. 

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『4』

The Crimson Lotus requires adequate nutrients like any other flower, though such nutrients are distinctive to this species. Unlike normal blossoms, the Crimson Lotus is parasitic in nature, sustaining itself with magic. You might liken them to the average pest, whether human or insect, or a fire that will only grow when fed more fuel. I could compose an entire novel on cultivation techniques and facts. I could also set these flowers loose and watch them wreak havoc on the city. The students from Night Raven College will be visiting soon, with a certain Malleus Draconia being among them. I wonder if they’re fond of parting gifts, by which I mean parting with their oh-so-treasured magic.

I hope you aren’t a mage. If you are, I’m afraid I might have to hurt you.

Rambling aside, I shall try my hand at a love letter once again.

Dearest, sweetest you, 

You are the joyous scents and sounds of lively city streets, of bakers boasting fresh, fluffy bread, of florists flaunting floral arrangements in all colors and species, of townsfolk turning the city upside-down come festival time. You are the golden glow that befalls the land when the sun rises, and you are the silvery shimmer that swathes all who sleep under the moon’s watchful illumination.

You are the air I breathe. The air I need. You are the bell who should rightfully reside within the tower I will construct. The tower of my heart? The tower of true love? If I could climb inside your skin, I might come to know the real you.

Perhaps I should pick up another romance soon. I know nothing of poetry or love letters. 

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『5』

I followed you home today. 

I am a fair, level-headed man, and so for that reason I know not to cross the law. But can you possibly expect a man of my nature to remain lawful when he is in love? They say love should surpass all. Does this not include the law? Does this not include morals and standards? If love is so mighty and marvelous, then why might some label my actions wrong and wicked? Is this not just a form of protection?

I do not intend to scare you. I do not intend to make you feel unsafe. 

I followed you home today, and you did not notice. How could you when you had headphones on?

You live in an apartment on the third floor. If I counted correctly, you should be seventh or eighth from the entrance to the stairs, tucked neatly away near the end of the hall. Perhaps I should make a copy of your key so that I can immerse myself in your privacy. 

I am a fair, level-headed man, and so I will not steal anything. But if you do find something of yours has gone missing—whether a personal item or what you think is insignificant trash—I have merely borrowed it for my own use. I cannot promise whether I might return this borrowed item, but I can at least promise that it will be put to good use. 

I could construct a doll in your likeness. I would need clothing, perhaps hair, skin, teeth, a tongue to entwine around mine... That’s morbid, isn’t it? Fitting for Halloween, but grotesquely harrowing. A silent doll who resembles its human counterpart in all aspects but the vibrancy of life... I’d much rather have the real you than a patchwork doppelgänger. If I tried my hand at fashioning you from needle and thread, I would just create a corpse. There are artists who only paint pain and misery, hence why we now look at certain paintings and consider them cursed. I am not a poet or a doll-maker, so I will not write poetry and I will not stitch dolls together. 

I am not a villain.

The urge to knock on your door had seized me then, when I stood in the hall in front of what I assumed was your door, my fist raised in preparation to knock thrice. Superstition says that if you receive three knocks on your door or windowpane, someone you love will have been taken away by Death within three days, weeks, months. I suppose Death does not need to conform to time after which the three knocks have been granted. Well, I believe in no such things, and I am not Death. 

But you’ll certainly think I am when you can’t see me.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『6』

Before I welcome the Night Raven College students, I visited you. You weren’t home. It was Sunday. 10:30 in the morning. I slid a letter under your door. Sugared thoughts are sealed inside with red wax. I’m not afraid to admit here that I am not entirely confident in my prose, hence why I’ve left it anonymous. I’ve penned the exact letter here for my sake, should I ever need to flip through these pages again to remind myself of the frustrations I conquered just to craft a single love letter. 

Dearest, sweetest you,

I have never felt this way before. When I spy you through the window, I feel as if the stars have aligned to fix the very fate which has led me to you. Your smile is invigorating; your laughter is an enchanting melody. Perhaps you reserve such reactions for me? In that regard, you know me well. I will know you better.

I am not a flirt, and I would never pretend to be one. I am genuine in all aspects of my life, especially when it comes to love. You must know this. Unfortunately, it’s saddening to see how easily you fall prey to simple pleasantries. Infuriating, almost. You should know jealousy makes a man like myself monstrous. But I can be patient, as I often am, so that you will come to love me in the same way I love you. 

Like the Crimson Lotus, you are a vibrant, fiery temptation. I fear the contents of my chest have already been reduced to ash. I should not love you to this extent.

I hope you aren’t a mage. If you are, I’m afraid I might have to hurt you, if only to show you right from wrong. I followed you home today, and you did not notice. How could you when you had headphones on? I do not intend to scare you. I do not intend to make you feel unsafe. I only wish to love from afar for now.

I am not a villain, but you’ll certainly think I am when you can’t see me. 

[cherryrainn]

I really liked the anonymous request about tmnt , I hope the guy / girl will not mind if I add something.

Yandere brother shredder and sibling reader, resigned himself to having to live with his brother and by his rules.

I will add a little 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵

The reader wraps himself in a blanket and sleeps

Tmnt 2014/16

hi!! i really enjoyed writing that one, so i totally will do this for you. also, i accidentally deleted an ask because im a dumbass so if you notice how i didnt do your ask please send it in again!!

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— blood bonds

yandere!shredder x sibling reader (platonic)

you found yourself resigned to living under the dominion of your brother, shredder. as the night fell, you retreated to your room, seeking solace and a momentary respite from the chaotic world outside.

with a heavy heart, you wrapped yourself in a cozy blanket, seeking comfort and warmth amidst the turbulent emotions that plagued your mind. the room exuded an air of unease as if it mirrored the conflicted feelings swirling within your troubled soul.

lying down, you stared up at the ceiling, your thoughts consumed by the complex web of emotions you felt for your brother. the line between love and fear had blurred, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of entrapment.

as you closed your eyes, you couldn't help but wonder how your life had taken such a drastic turn. you had always yearned for a close bond with your brother, but you never anticipated the depths of shredder's possessiveness and desire for control.

as you stared at the dimly lit room, the door swung open, and shredder entered without hesitation. the intensity in his eyes was palpable as he approached you, his mere presence sending a shiver down your spine.

"you know you're not allowed to lock your door, y/n," shredder's voice carried an edge, his possessive nature unyielding.

startled, you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, the vulnerability seeping into your bones. "i just needed some time alone," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

shredder's gaze bore into you, his expression a mix of concern and possessiveness. "alone? you know you can't be alone, not when i'm here to protect you."

your heart lurched as shredder's words sank in; this was not the first time he had addressed these concerns. you glanced down at your feet, averting your eyes from his penetrating stare. "i didn't mean to keep you waiting," you mumbled, attempting to diffuse the tension that filled the room.

shredder drew closer, his body looming over yours as he sat on the edge of your bed. "i'll never tire of protecting my younger sibling. i would lay down my life for you."

the tenderness in shredder's voice sent a wave of relief through your chest. you gave him a weak smile, unable to hide the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. "thank you," you murmured softly, unsure what else to say.

shredder leaned forward, placing his cold metal hand on your cheek. "are you alright?" he asked, his tone soft and soothing.

as shredder's cold touch grazed your cheek, a mixture of fear and an unsettling thrill coursed through your veins. the nature within him had grown stronger over time, blurring the lines between love and obsession. you had become entangled in a web of twisted affection, where shredder's desires and possessiveness held a macabre allure.

"i can't bear the thought of anything happening to you," shredder confessed, his voice laced with a strange combination of tenderness and possessive fervor. "you are my blood, y/n. no one else should have the privilege of your presence."

a shiver ran down your spine, a morbid fascination mingling with your apprehension. you were acutely aware of the dangerous game you played, trapped between the longing for your own freedom and the magnetic pull of shredder's obsession.

he moved closer, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your face. "no one will ever understand you like i do, y/n. i know your deepest fears, your darkest secrets. and i'll protect them with my life."

fear gripped your heart, a flicker of doubt and apprehension dancing in your eyes. but just as the darkness threatened to consume you, shredder's expression softened, his grip on your face gentling.

"yet, i would never cause you harm, y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and tenderness. "my violence is reserved only for those who dare to endanger what we have. i would rather suffer than see you hurt."

conflicting emotions swirled within you, torn between the fear of shredder's dark side and the twisted comfort his words brought.

in a sudden change of demeanor, shredder's fingers caressed your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "you're safe with me, y/n," he murmured, his voice laced with a fragile tenderness. "i may be consumed by this darkness, but i will protect you from it. you're the light that keeps me anchored."

and so, in the confines of your shared sanctuary, you surrendered to the twisted love that bound you, seeking solace in the fragile balance between the violence that haunted your brother's soul and the comfort he found in your presence.

[hiddenobject-fanblog]

His Soul (Chapter 10)

Show and Tell

Summary: After saving the abducted collectors, you were trusted with Curioso's box. What seems like a dangerous possession slowly turns into an opportunity to learn more about this creature and his curse. Can you earn his trust, and possibly, his affection?

Pairings: Curioso/Reader, Curioso/The Detective

--

It took a bit of searching on your end, but you finally tracked down a translator who was able to make any sense of the book. You had reached out to several other people for a week, all of whom sadly informed you that they couldn’t understand it. Still, you remained determined and you were glad your patience finally wore off.

You were sitting in a small office across from a woman who wore a blue suit. Her eyes were wide as she read the book that you left open on her desk. You were still dumbfounded with the news she’d just given to you. 

“You can really read that thing? I haven’t met a single person who could.”

She nodded and leaned back in her seat. “You see, Detective, I used to delve into magic - divination back in my day. This book was written by an enchantress. I recognize the spell that is decrypting it from normal eyes.”

“Huh…” Your mind went back to the time Curioso disabled a concealing spell on that house in your last case. Had he done the same thing to this book to make sure Andrew couldn’t read it? “Are you sure it was an enchantress? Not a…creature of some sorts?”

“Her name is written right here. I can translate this for you, but I’m afraid it will take some time.”

“That’s fine; I’m in no hurry.” You waved your hand. “Just…do you know what it is?”

“Instructions, I think,” She rubbed her chin as she observed the pages. “But what they say and what they are for…I will have to get back to you on that.”

“Great. Just call me on the phone when you make any progress - I’ll pay you in advance.”

She stopped you when you stood from your chair, her eyes lit up in fascination. “I am curious, where did you get this book? I have never seen anything like it.”

“....A friend of mine gave it to me. I’d like to know what it says.” 

“Very well. Expect to hear back from me in a few days…thank you for such an interesting job. I will have fun translating this.”

You stood and dusted off your pants, relieved to have finally found someone for the job. You were antsy to know what this book contained…if she was right, then they could possibly be instructions for Curioso’s box. You desperately needed that, as you couldn’t keep relying on him for its codes and instructions. He lied to you about that before and you were sure he would do it again if it benefited him. 

You handed over some cash and shook her hand, already wishing time would move forward. 

-----

You returned to your office and sat down in your chair. If Curioso sensed that you had the book before, then he must know it was out of your possession now. When you looked up, you found his box lighting up from your shelf. A sign of his presence.

Before he could say a word, you beat him to it. “I don’t have it. Are you happy?”

“Did you destroy it?” 

“No. Just…loaned it to someone. I’ll get it back, but I still don’t know what it is.”

Mist pooled out and you found the projection of his mask greeting you from across the room. He tilted his head. “Who did you give it to?”

“A magician,” You spread your hands out theatrically. 

You thought he might take it as a joke, but that didn’t happen. “You’re smarter than you look, Detective.”

You narrowed your eyes with skepticism. “You still don’t want to tell me what it is? Even if I don’t have it with me anymore?”

“You should have gotten rid of it, that’s all I’m telling you.”

You paused. Something just occurred to you that you should’ve thought about before. “Just a silly question here, but…it’s not going to kill me, right? Or bring a sudden end to the world?”

“Only an end to mine.”

You jumped out of your seat. “It’ll kill you!?”

Curioso laughed really hard. It made you feel ridiculous as you slid back down into your seat. Your face was as red as a tomato for overreacting the way you did. 

“How kind of you to care about me..! But, no. That won’t happen. I’m sorry.” 

You groaned and tried to hide your face. “Believe it or not, I actually WANT you here. Otherwise, I would’ve given you right back to Andrew.” 

“Yes, that’s right. You want me here as part of your things …your collection. Your memories.” 

“No, I-” You were getting flustered over this and you didn’t know why. “I want to get to know you. Isn’t it obvious that’s what I’ve been doing?” 

“You don’t need a book for that. You can ask me all your questions, Detective. I don’t really have anywhere else to go.” 

Your face was still hot and your heart wouldn’t calm down. Something about this conversation was embarrassing you. You grabbed a piece of paper from your drawer and took a deep breath before walking over to Curioso’s box. You held it up and prepared to enter the correct pattern, then you hesitated.

“Do you…want to come out? I mean, if you’re not still mad at me?” Your voice was timid. 

“I always want a breath of fresh air.”

You gave a wryly grin. “You wanna’ watch me do paperwork? Do all the boring detective stuff?” 

“Please. The anticipation is killing me..!”

You chuckled and let him out of the box. The same bright flash ensued and he was standing before you again. You rubbed your eyes as you stumbled back over to your desk. It felt like getting your picture taken with the flash on. You wondered if there could ever be a way to change that. 

“Take a seat anywhere, you can explore my office. Just don’t touch anything.” 

You sat down and grabbed a pencil, preparing to do some work. To your surprise, Curioso didn’t stray very far and instead perched himself on the edge of your desk. He really wasn’t in the way of anything, but his close presence made you nervous. His set of sharp teeth was closer to you than you were comfortable with. 

“There’s another chair right over there,” You pointed across from your desk.

“Ah, but this is annoying you, isn’t it? He grinned. 

“It is, actually. Yeah.” 

“Then I’m not going to move anywhere.”

“Fine."

You began filling out paperwork in spite of his close proximity. You pretended he wasn’t there and you were just doing some work as usual. You were actually able to get a bit done. You paused to stretch your arms and crack your back, suddenly remembering Curioso was right beside you when you accidentally smacked your elbow on him. 

“Whoops - sorry…” 

“I like your name,” He whispered.

You blinked twice before glancing back at the paperwork and found your first and last name signed on the sheet before you. You hadn’t thought he was seriously paying attention to what you were doing. Who in their right mind would willingly watch someone fill out boring papers instead of looking at pictures of your heroic cases? Curioso, apparently. 

“Ah, thank you,” You grew warm again and cleared your throat to change the subject. “So I can ask you questions, right?”

His voice was dramatic. “I guess you can.” 

“Apparently, that book was written by a woman. Do you know who she is?” 

“...” 

“Her name is in there. I’ll be able to find it soon. Is she someone I should get into contact with?”

“NO!” He exclaimed loudly into your ear. 

You flinched and nearly stumbled out of your chair. He noticed your state and withdrew into himself, moving away from your desk and into the seat across from you. He was deliberately trying not to face you.

“Alright, geez.” You rubbed your ear in pain. “So, she’s nobody I should know, apparently?”

“Detective.” His voice cracked. Your heart broke at the sound. “Don’t dig any deeper than you already are. You’re keeping that book despite my wishes - please listen to me and never find that woman.” 

It felt like you lost all your strength. “Okay…I won’t. I promise.” You waited a second before adding, “Can you at least tell me who she is? Why is she so bad?” 

“Patience is a virtue.” He tapped a robotic finger on the edge of the wood. 

You wanted to groan and throw a fit, but now wasn’t the time. He sounded like he was on the verge of crying. You didn’t know if that was possible or not, but you didn’t care to test it. Your eyes traveled down Curioso and you realized you’d never gotten such a good look at him up close. Observing him for too long hadn’t been your goal back at Andrew Collins’ house. You’d been too preoccupied worrying about him getting into anything to really study him before. 

He wore a blue-and-red jester costume, but it was torn in places and had many holes in its fabric. It was also dirty, like it’d been through hell and back. His top hat was in a similar condition, torn at the ends with its colors dull. When you looked at his hand, you found holes, scrapes, and cuts on his mechanical digits and palms. Even his mask, when he turned to look at you, was damaged and missing pieces of its decoration. 

You never noticed how… rough he looked. Like he was something someone had left outside and forgotten about for years - equally as damaged from the weather as he was from the neglect of his owner. Pity swelled in your throat. 

“Are you alright?” The jester queried. 

“I remember you looking a little different,” You confessed. Something was off about him…he was missing those little hats on top of his big one, and you swore he was more colorful before. “Did something happen?” 

“This is how I’ve always looked.” 

“But..” You leaned forward and squinted your eyes. You probably looked ridiculous doing this. You didn’t care. “Your mask isn’t supposed to look like that, is it? Your hands…they’re all damaged. Did…did something hurt you?”

He promptly moved his limbs out of your view. “Just wear-and-tear. I’ve been around for a long time.” 

“When we were in your box-” You pointed at him, the memories flooding back to you. “You looked perfect. Your mask was glittery, your clothes were bright, everything was fine…what happened?”

“I can bend anything to my will there. Anything I want.” His voice grew quiet. “Even myself.”

“You mean you made yourself look like that?” 

“Do you ever want to relive your glory days?” He threw his head back and grinned widely at you. His teeth still remained pearly white and as sharp as always. The only part of him unchanged and intact. “That’s how I used to look. I’m sure you remember a time when you were young and full of energy…” 

You shook your head and sat back down to give him some space. “Alright. I don’t know anything about your kind. But I’m going to assume that’s normal unless you tell me otherwise.” 

“Completely normal.” He insisted. “If you had to wear the same clothes everyday, you’d look just like me after a while.” 

“I don’t have holes in my face or my hands,” You pointed out. 

Curioso slouched in his seat. He clearly wasn’t happy that you were pressing this as much as you were. “They’re artificial. It’s not me. Not really.” 

“What do you mean..?” Why was it always a guessing game with him? Why couldn’t he explain anything to you? “Curioso, I don’t really understand what you are. Can’t you just tell me?” 

“I wish I could, but even I don’t know what I am.” 

“I still don’t understand…”

“What is there to know? I’m a jester in a box. I like collecting human souls and exposing their dark secrets. That’s all there is.”

“I don't think that’s the case. What were you at the carnival?” 

You could’ve sworn his smile grew smaller. He must’ve thought you’d forgotten about that detail, but you didn’t. He confirmed himself that what Andrew said was true. If you couldn’t find out WHAT he was, then you could at least learn where he came from. 

“I was a jester,” He responded. “Telling jokes, making fun, you name it.” 

That , you could believe. But it felt like he was only telling a half-truth. “Really? With all your powers, you only told jokes?” 

“They were good ones..!” 

“Tell me one.”

“ ‘Why don’t cannibals eat clowns? Because they taste funny !’”

“Yeah, there’s no way you were telling that to kids.”

“Maybe I didn’t perform for kids..?”

Now you are getting concerned. “Curioso-”

“-Honest, Detective! I was an entertainer at the circus. For both adults and kids! They loved my show, I’d been doing it for a long time.”

You went quiet as you tapped your pencil on your desk. You were neglecting your paperwork now, but you were far more invested in learning about your friend. Not many people could say they've held conversations like this one. 

“Did you like it?”

He sounded strained. “Of course.”

“Then why did you come out of your box angry? Why did you threaten Andrew? If you loved what you did, why did you want revenge-”

He did something you did not expect - which was to learn towards you, pinch your cheek in between two white fingers, and pull a little too hard.

“You’re so nosy.” He hissed. “Must you know EVERYTHING?”

“Ow!” You swatted his hand off and rubbed the red spot left on your skin. “You said it yourself - I’m a detective. It’s in my job description.”

“Hmm. And you’re putting together the mystery of my past ?” You swore you saw a small flame flicker in his mask’s eye socket. You blinked twice and it was gone.

“If you’re going to make it this much of a challenge, then I might as well.”

He tittered. “You’re so fun. That’s why I like you.” You blushed at his words and scolded yourself for feeling so flattered. “I suppose I can help you solve it, but…you may find things that you don’t like. Are you okay with that?”

“I found a room full of bodies in my last case.” You shuddered at the image left in your mind. “I’m sure that whatever it is, I can handle it.”

He hummed, looking at you for an awfully long time. Then, he said, “I’ll tell you when I feel that you’re ready.”

You wondered when that was going to be.

[okkotsuyuutaloml]

a/n: i'm cleaning my computer and found a bunch of short stories which i had written for my english class (but ended up not submitting it bcs i chickened out and instead wrote an argumentative essay)

pairing: mark webber and sebastian vettel (platonic)

cw: murder, gore, horror, au

wc:

main mlist ! | f1 mlist !

thank you @taestwinkle for proofreading this for me!

in the shadowed heart of the decaying city of dunwich, where whispers of despair lingered in the alleys, two souls teetered on the brink of madness: mark webber, a forsaken artist and sebastian vettel, a macabre surgeon.

mark's studio was a morbid sanctuary, adorned with grotesque canvases that defied the boundaries of human suffering. his latest masterpiece, "the eviscerated symphony," had drawn the attention of the macabre elite, including sebastian.

sebastian, a surgeon by day and a collector of the macabre by night, had an insatiable appetite for the obscure. he frequented the darkest corners of the city in search of subjects for his experiments, always lurking in the shadows.

one fateful evening, seb's twisted path led him to mark's studio. the pungent scent of wet paint and decay hung heavy in the air as he entered. a symphony of anguish unfolded before him on the canvases, each stroke and brushstroke an ode to despair.

mark turned, his eyes like fractured mirrors, reflecting a thousand sorrows. "you," he said, his voice a haunting melody. "you are not here for my art. you are here for something darker."

sebastian nodded, a twisted grin dancing on his lips. "i seek inspiration, dear artist, and i hear your work is nothing short of transcendent."

a sinister alliance formed between them that night. sebastian provided mark with the most macabre subjects for his art, dissected and splayed open for his creative endeavors. in return, mark invited sebastian to witness his artistry firsthand, to see the unholy marriage of life and death on his canvases.

their twisted collaboration soon grew into an obsession. mark's art became more grotesque with each passing day, his brush strokes capturing the essence of suffering in a way that no other artist could fathom. sebastian, on the other hand, pushed the boundaries of medical science, experimenting on living subjects in the name of his insatiable curiosity.

one chilling night, as rain poured in torrents, the duo embarked on their most audacious endeavor yet. they ventured to the city's catacombs, a labyrinth underworld where the forgotten dead whispered their secrets. mark's canvas was set amidst the bones, lit by flickering candles, as sebastian worked meticulously to extract the essence of agony from a still-breathing victim.

as the night wore on, a maddening fusion of art and science unfolded. mark's brush moved with a feverish intensity, capturing the tortured soul of the victim on canvas. sebastian's surgical instruments danced like malevolent wraiths, unraveling the mysteries of life and death.

but then, in the catacombs' eerie silence, something unexpected happened. the victim's pain transcended the physical, and his suffering began to infect the very air around them. mark's brush shook as he felt the tendrils of agony wrap around his heart and sebastian's once-celestial curiosity curdled into a grotesque obsession.

as the ritual reached its height, the boundary between life and death blurred. the victim's anguished cries merged with mark's screams of artistic ecstasy and sebastian's maniacal laughter. in that unholy moment, they glimpsed something beyond their comprehension—a realm where suffering and creation merged, a dimension of pure horror.

the catacombs trembled, and a cataclysmic force tore through the studio above. the city of dunwich was forever scarred by the malevolent energy they had unleashed. the cataclysmic artistry they had wrought that night was their final masterpiece—a grotesque testament to the depths of human depravity.

in the end, mark and seb were never seen again, their souls claimed by the dark forces they had summoned. their studio became a forbidden legend, a place where the line between art and abomination had been irrevocably blurred.

and so, in the heart of the decaying city of dunwich, the legacy of mark and sebastian lived on—a nightmarish tale whispered in the alleys, a reminder of the darkness that dwells within the human soul.

a/n: definitely didn't have merriam webster open 😋

[sweethoneyrose83]

Nerdy Goth Girl Dialogue Prompts

"Oh, you're into horror movies? That's cute. Let me introduce you to some real nightmares. Ever heard of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari?"

"I'm not obsessed with death. I just think it’s fascinating how people spend their whole lives avoiding the inevitable."

"Did you know that Edgar Allan Poe was terrified of being buried alive? Imagine waking up in darkness and realizing you’ve been sealed away forever. Fun thought, right?"

"I was reading about the multiverse theory last night. Imagine—there’s a version of me out there that actually likes sunshine. Horrifying."

"So, is this your idea of flirting, or are you genuinely interested in discussing the finer points of Gothic architecture?"

"If you think my room is dark, wait until you see the abyss where I store my emotional attachments."

"Listen, I'm not saying curses are real, but if you suddenly feel like you're being watched tonight, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I actually find the sound of thunderstorms comforting. It’s like nature is finally expressing how I feel inside."

"I could explain the paradox of Schrödinger's cat, but that would require you to appreciate both metaphysics and the macabre."

"My favorite season? Autumn, obviously. Everything is slowly dying, and it’s beautiful."

"The concept of eternal life is cool and all, but if I had to spend it in fluorescent lighting? Pass."

"You know, the universe is constantly expanding. But it still can't contain how much I dislike small talk."

"People always say, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover,’ but let’s be honest��it’s the dark, leather-bound ones that have the best secrets."

"I’m like a black hole of useless trivia. Did you know a group of crows is called a murder? The goth aesthetic practically writes itself."

"Are you one of those people who think black is just a phase? Because I’ve been perfecting this look since middle school."

"Oh, this old necklace? It's not just a fashion statement—it’s also rumored to be cursed. But hey, I like a little danger."

"You can call it ‘creepy’ if you want, but I just think it’s efficient to plan my funeral playlist ahead of time."

"You say I'm morbid, I say I'm well-read. There's a difference, trust me."

"Not to be dramatic or anything, but if I could live in a crumbling Gothic mansion surrounded by ravens, I would."

"I just think there’s something inherently romantic about stargazing. You know, staring into the vast, cold void of space, realizing our insignificance… really sets the mood."

"Do you ever wonder if the universe is just an endless library of forgotten stories, each of us just a page about to turn?"

"People say 'embrace the darkness' like it’s an edgy trend, but I say it's better to invite it for tea and let it tell you its secrets."

"Goth isn't just about wearing black. It’s an aesthetic commitment to staying enchanted by the things most people are too afraid to understand."

"I don’t read tarot cards because I think they tell the future. I do it because they tell me the truth I’m not always ready to see."

"There’s something oddly comforting about stargazing. You look up at a vast, uncaring cosmos and think, ‘Yes, this is my aesthetic.’”

"Yeah, I collect old, dusty books with titles in Latin. But no, I’m not casting curses… not yet, anyway."

"I could’ve been anyone in any time. But apparently, fate chose to make me a walking vampire playlist in the year of our lackluster reality."

"Life is basically one giant 'Choose Your Own Adventure' book, but someone tore out all the pages with the happy endings."

"Call me morbid, but I like to imagine every shadow I see has its own little story. We’d all look a little closer if we thought shadows could feel."

"I’m a hopeless romantic, really. I just think love poems sound better when they’re whispered in graveyards."

"Some people see black as absence, but I think of it as potential. Like, what do you want to fill that void with?"

"People call it morbid curiosity; I call it appreciating the part of life no one else wants to think about."

"I’d say I’m a realist, but realists don’t usually hang around places that remind them life’s a fleeting speck of dust in an indifferent universe."

"Sure, my room might look like a museum exhibit on Gothic literature and existential dread, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t have style."

"People always think goths are lonely. It’s more like we’re friends with the parts of life most people are scared to look at."

[rainbowthefox]

These FUCK

[dreamer-73]

My-….My Post did what now????? 0-0’

Okay...why is no one on Tumblr talking about this guy?! Just! Just look at him! and tell me he would not fit the bulletin board of stuff Tumblr likes!!!

[senatushq]

NAME. Dulce Salazar AGE & BIRTH DATE. 26 & November 1st 1996 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/her SPECIES. Vampire BLOODLINE. Mars OCCUPATION. Former Psychology Student FACE CLAIM. Danna Paola

biography

( tw gore, death, bullying, blood, murder ) Human. Overflowing vivacity and a lover of all, Dulce grew up thrown into a world of mystery and excess. With a long list of law enforcers within the paternal side of her family, Dulce always knew she’d eventually follow in her father’s footsteps and become part of Rome’s much needed security. Privilege and mystery remained part of her daily life, with all of her family practically cloaking Dulce from who they were and what she could expect from the future. Somewhat regal in appearance and status, the Salazar’s frequented some of Rome’s most elite parties, always effortlessly cruising through life with the littlest child of three eventually growing suspicious. Money had never been much of an issue, neither connections… or corruption. There’d been rumors about the Salazar’s for a while, about a family so corrupt in nature, cunning and cutthroat, that some of the elite began to suspect the worst. Thrown into the mix, with Dulce wanting to be liked and admired, it didn’t take much for the teenage girl to ignore any family drama for the sake of popularity. With the threat of her future still lingering over her head, with the constant reminder of her father’s secrets and nightly shenanigans, Dulce began to investigate. The Eye. It was an ominous, almost unremarkable word, whispered between her parents which caught her attention. To keep her mind busy, Dulce fully focused on school, friends and her love life, used popularity, money and intrigue as a way to forget all about her family’s ominous past, present and future. They’d always referred to the truth as being ugly. A body dragged over the floor of their mansion, Dulce silently watching from the shadows as her father prepared an unconscious, bleeding man on their dinner table by sticking silver into flesh wounds. The prom queen, little miss sunshine, her family arranged for her to attend one of Rome’s most prestigious colleges, to prepare her for a future just like this one. 

Thrall. Despite her best efforts to abide her time, Dulce’s curiosity resurfaced. With her new posse to lead, college keeping her busy and away from home, the human sought answers all by herself. She knew neither her family nor any other account would be an objective one, but it wasn’t the lack of trust that had pushed her to this, but a morbid curiosity. Days past, with Dulce skipping college, bailing out on friends and events for the sake of answers. Obsessed with the idea of the other side as she called it, Dulce interpreted her family’s mysterious agenda as something far worse than money-laundry, the mob, worse than just a wealthy, Mexican family playing chess with other rich people, using them as pawns in their game. There were enough old tales to study, with her friends making fun of the now 25 year old. Vampires, Lycans, Witches, monsters of books and movies weren’t real; and so was Dulce’s influence. Pushed aside, the former prom queen was forced into a difficult position: a bystander, a recipient of mockery, her former friends found someone else to entertain. Still, she wouldn’t give up. That’s when she met Angel, a captivating young man, someone who could potentially be the answer to all of her questions. Meeting in secret, Dulce offered herself to the vampire, her morbid curiosity, need to prove her friends wrong and her wish for eternal life enough reason for death. His Thrall, an intoxicating and thrilling pact between vampire and human was exactly what she had in mind. All-consuming, wild and finally immersed into the world her family wanted to protect her from, Dulce tasted his blood all over again to keep their pact alive and well-fed, hoping she’d eventually become what he’d been for thousands of years. She enjoyed succumbing to darkness, feeding into all of her dark desires. Just to be right? Just to feel worthy? No, to feel like her true self.

Vampire. Tragedy struck. The announcement of Pluto’s return had been just what Dulce needed to prove her friends wrong. Of course they’d have to visit, see for themselves without endangering Angel in the process.  Her secret, her vampire, Dulce couldn’t possibly expose him like this, wouldn’t. Luring her former friends towards the party seemed easy enough. She’d been vague enough about what would await them. A new lead in her theory, something that would prove herself worthy to them. Watching from the sidelines, her friends were already on their way back to safety upon seeing first glimpses of blood, carelessly splattered across a pool filled with even more blood. As they ran, Dulce moved closer. She could’ve predicted her own demise, but she chose to ignore all red flags, moving closer to fully experience what she’d been searching all along. Fangs dug into her skin, the thrill of death a sudden realization in her mind. And as she bled out onto the man’s shirt, Dulce’s last thought revolved around nothing else than freedom. Her freedom to be herself. Waking up the next day, Dulce did little to adjust, hiding within the darkness she hunted down her friends and former, human boyfriend, feeding on them to complete her rebirth. A woman of darkness, she’d be the architect of her own fate, the puppetmaster, the killer prom queen.

personality

+ devil-may-care, daring, passionate – hedonistic, self-serving, bratty

played by saskia. gmt. she/her.