#handmaiden reader

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

𝑨𝒍𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍'𝒔 𝑺𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒔. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒎 𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔.

Description: Y/N is apprehensive when she is assigned the post of Aemond Targaryen's handmaiden. She expects him to be cold and cruel, and is surprised when he is actually kindle and gentle to her. All the while Aemond finds himself falling for his shy and skittish handmaiden.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Disclaimer: this is incredibly self-indulgent. I love Aemond and wanted to focus in on the softer sides of his character. I've planned 3 parts to this series but who knows.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of canon typical misogyny, female reader (sorry! This just makes it easier for the plot), handmaiden reader, slow-burn, lengthy?, potentially ooc Aemond but Ewan Mitchell did say Aemond just needed someone to love him.

Y/N was filled with trepidation as she approached the royal quarters, her movements slow as she fruitlessly tried to delay the inevitable. She supposed she should be grateful for her new appointment as Prince Aemond's handmaiden. But she found she'd much rather have continued on in the lower chambers of the keep. Alas, the matron had chosen her for the position, recently opened when the prince's previous handmaiden was mysteriously dismissed. Prince Aemond was known by many denominations, whispered rumours spreading like wildfire throughout the Red Keep. The One-eyed Prince. The fierce dragon rider who'd claimed the largest dragon in existence. The cold second son with a particular proclivity for swordsmanship. None of these served to assuage Y/N's fears for her new role. She was grateful, at least, that it was not Prince Aegon. She'd heard terrible rumours of his behaviour towards female servants. She'd heard nothing of the like about his brother.

The matron had told Y/N not to worry, that Prince Aemond barely acknowledged servants at all. And surely she was the perfect choice, with her excellent skills in needlepoint and, more significantly, her quiet and timid disposition which enabled her to move like a shadow. Y/N tried to even out her breathing and calm her wildly beating heart as she reached the door of Prince Aemond's chambers. Upon knocking and hearing no reply she entered anyway to find the Prince was not within, to her great relief. If she was particularly fortunate she might complete all of her tasks before he returned and avoid an interaction altogether. Quickly setting to work, she began to tidy and clean. Though Prince Aemond's quarters were already unexpectedly neat. Y/N considered this was perhaps a reflection of the controlled demeanour he always seemed to carry whenever she had spotted him in the Keep.

Turning her attentions towards making the bed she noticed a thin strap of leather strewn across it. Picking it up, upon closer inspection she recognised it to be Prince Aemond's eyepatch. Y/N frowned as she realised the strap was broken. She knew Aemond always wore it to cover the gaping wound that still remained from when he'd lost his eye in a brawl with his nephew. Y/N had once passed a group of handmaidens whispering by a stairwell about how the Prince purposefully wore the eye patch so as not to upset the ladies of the court, and hearing them erupt into giggles. She had found herself frowning at their laughter, thinking to herself that it was thoughtful of the Prince, chivalrous even.

The smooth feel of the leather in her hand brought Y/N back to the present, she was prone to losing herself in thought, and she came to the decision that she would mend it for him. Y/N knew the importance the eye patch held for him, indeed she was surprised he had left his chambers without it. Pocketing it, she quickly rearranged the Prince's bed sheets and, thinking the room sufficiently tidy, she exited the Prince's chambers to find her sewing kit.

Y/N had dedicated more time to mending Prince Aemond's eyepatch than was truly necessary, determined to make the stitches as neat as possible. It would be worn by a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms after all. Returning to the Prince's chambers that evening to stoke the fire and light candles, she began to fear her actions had been rash and presumptuous. Perhaps Prince Aemond would be angry with her for taking something so important from his room without his permission. Perhaps he did not feel a need for it any longer and she would simply be cementing the idea that he did if she presented the eye patch to him. By the time she reached his chambers she was wracked with nerves from reviewing in her mind every possible reaction the Prince might have to her actions, and a sickening feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She was once again relieved to find the Prince was not in his chambers. Though her relief was short lived, for no sooner had she lit the candles and begun lighting a fire than the the very object of her thoughts strode into the room. He halted briefly upon seeing her, but quickly moved to sit in a nearby armchair, seemingly ignoring her presence. The matron may have been right then, Y/N had worried for nothing.

But her heart dropped as she realised he was, in fact, wearing an eye patch. She had been stupid to think he should only have the one and now cursed herself for being so foolish. Y/N gnawed on her bottom lip with worry. Perhaps the Prince would be angered with her taking his belongings from his room without his permission. Or maybe he had meant to throw it away and would think her silly for presuming otherwise. Nonetheless, she determined that she would return what belonged to him. Finishing stoking the fire she rose from her knees and dusted off her skirts, before slowly inching her way over to the Prince. It was only when she stood directly in front of him that he raised his one good eye to meet hers, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity. Y/N wrung her hands nervously, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. She hardly knew what to say, and could not help stuttering as she spoke. "My Prince, I must apologise to you." Aemond seemed momentarily surprised by this, before his features settled back into a mask of indifference, though he leant forward at her words, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin on his knuckles. "Must you now?"

Y/N swallowed down thickly, before nodding. "I couldn't help but notice the broken eye patch upon the bed as I attended my duties this morning, and I took it to mend it. I realise now this was presumptions of me, but I had only thought to be helpful as I know you always wear it." Y/N's eyes widened as she realised her words might suggest she believed he should cover his wound. Holding her hands palm up in a supplicatory manor, her words spilled out quicker and even less elegant than before. "Not that I believe you need to wear the patch. I just thought it must be important to you. Oh I am making a mess of my words. Here, My Prince." She bowed her head and tentatively held the mended eye patch out to him, not daring to look in his direction. After a moment a hand came into her line of vision as Prince Aemond slowly took the patch from her, his much larger hand closing over hers briefly.

Y/n could barely stand the Prince's silence. If the rumours were to be believed, his silent composure concealed its own danger. And, being too fearful to look up at his face, she had no idea of his reaction to her offering. "What is your name?" Y/N's eyes snapped up to meet Aemond's good eye. She had not expected his question, spoken in such a measured tone, having anticipated his ire instead. "Y/N my Prince." Prince Aemond only hummed in response before getting to his feet, prompting Y/N to take several small steps backwards in order to maintain a respectable distance. Y/N averted her eyes to the floor, but nevertheless still felt his gaze upon her, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. "I thank you for your thoughtful actions Y/N. That will be all." She didn't have to be told twice, quickly curtsying to him and rushing hurriedly from the room.

Aemond frowned as the handmaiden fled from him, as if he had struck her rather than offered her his thanks. But she did seem a rather skittish little thing. He had never seen this particular handmaiden before, his mother having dismissed the previous one for reasons he did not care to know. As he'd entered his chambers he'd startled for a moment, taking in her features which he found decidedly pretty. He quickly dispelled himself of that thought and opted to ignore her presence, having come to understand it made the servants less nervous in his presence and more efficient. Taking a seat close to the fire the girl was stoking, he could not help keeping his eye trained upon her in interest as he observed a range of emotions crossing her face. He had not expected her to approach him then, almost admiring her boldness before she quickly turned into a stuttering mess, and it was only with a concerted effort that he understood her at all. Yet he found himself moved as he disentangled the reason for her apology from her frantic speech.

Looking down at his now mended eyepatch he could not help but admire her handiwork, the stitches were so neat and close together that you could hardly tell it had ever required mending. Aemond had carelessly strewn the broken eye patch on his bed that morning, he had many others in case of such incidents and had not thought of it since. But at the sight of it in her proferred hand, Aemond became aware of a strange feeling in his chest. He had hardened himself following the events at Driftmark that had lost him his eye, an act of violence against him which had never been avenged. He still felt the slight keenly for his nephew had never been punished for it. Aemond had not since felt such genuine kindness directed towards him, such care for this most essential part of him, even by his own family, with the exception of his gentle sister Helaena. His lost eye had ever been a painful subject to avoid. It was only a small matter really, the mending of an eye patch, but it carried a far greater significance for Aemond, who found himself charmed by this particular handmaiden's thoughtfulness towards him.

Y/N burned with embarrassment as she fled from the Prince's chambers. His reaction was admittedly better than she could have hoped for, but she'd still managed to make a complete fool of herself in this, their first meeting. She felt she could not have given a worse impression of her capability as his handmaiden and overstepped boundaries. Over the next few days she endeavoured to move quickly as she completed her tasks in the hopes that she would avoid the Prince entirely. She successfully managed to do so for two consecutive days by following the same schedule, only entering his room at hours she knew he would be otherwise preoccupied.

On the third day Y/N entered Prince Aemond's chambers, she was startled to see the Prince himself sitting in his armchair. The morning sunlight pouring through the windows cast his face in a soft glow that accentuated his features, which were admittedly beautiful. He was lazily playing with a coin, weaving it between his fingers. When she realised she'd been staring at his hands for an extended period of time she briefly raised her eyes to his face to see his mouth upturned in a slight smirk, and she quickly shifted her focus to completing her tasks. She moved quietly and efficiently throughout the room, trying with great difficulty to avoid looking in the Prince's direction, to pretend he was not there at all.

It would not do for her to turn back into a jittery, stumbling mess and prove what he must already have thought, that she was completely incompetent and unsuited to her position. Removing a tray of used cups and goblets from a side table, Y/N turned to take them back to the kitchens. Walking past Prince Aemond, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that he was wearing the eye patch she had mended for him and halted her moments to confirm she was correct. The Prince was looking at her almost expectantly, as if he'd been waiting for her to notice. With a barely perceptible nod of her head, she hastily left the room.

Aemond had hoped that exclusively wearing the eye patch his handmaiden had mended would assure her he was not angry with her for her actions. And yet he did not see her for the two days following their meeting, and Aemond realised she must have taken account of his movements to avoid being in his chambers at the same time, the clever minx. So on the third day he resolved to put an end to this ridiculous game of cat and mouse. Though it was his habit to rise early and leave for the training yard, he settled himself in his favoured arm chair to await the maiden's arrival. A satisfied smirk ghosted onto his face as she entered, clearly startled to find him still within his chambers and Aemond noted how she'd stared at his hands for several moments before turning to attend to her duties.

His brows furrowed in frustration as he watched her mill about the room, steadfastly ignoring him and avoiding looking in his direction entirely. He did not wish for her to be afraid of him. It was only when she was exiting his chambers that she glanced at him again and, finally, seemed to notice the eye patch he was wearing as she stared at it, rooted to the spot. A light dusting of pink rose to her cheeks before she nodded and swiftly departed, and Aemond assumed she had now realised he was not displeased with her. The moment she disappeared from his view, Aemond found himself wanting to see her blush again.

Y/N was still wary in Aemond's presence, a consequence of her own shy disposition and acute sense of awareness in the difference in their stations. However, she was no longer afraid of him, so to speak, and stopped trying to avoid being in the same room with him, simply finding a rhythm of getting on with her tasks whether he was there or not. He did not address her often, but thanked her each time she completed her survey of his room and turned to leave. His voice was smooth and quiet and Y/N noted that he was much more soft-spoken than his loud and overbearing brother. Prince Aemond clearly did not feel the need to shout to make his presence felt. Y/N had passed two weeks in her new post before there was any shift in the dynamic the Prince and his handmaiden had developed.

Y/N had finished lighting all of the candles in the Prince's chamber and had started collecting empty cups strewn about the various surfaces in the room when she spotted the eight legged monstrosity, prompting her to let out a high pitched shriek and drop the tray she'd been holding, sending goblets crashing to the stone floor. She had always been terrified of spiders, begging the other handmaidens to deal with them when she had worked in the lower chambers of the Keep. But it was just her now, and her heart beat wildly as she realised she would have no choice but to remove it from the Prince's room. She kept her eyes on the creature with a sickening sense of dread as it crawled along the length of the side table she'd been cleaning. But she heard Prince Aemond speak behind her, his tone somewhat demanding "What is the matter?"

Y/N tried to keep her tone even as she answered, but even she could hear the slight hysteria tinging her voice and knew he would not be fooled. "Simply a spider, My Prince. I have never been fond of them. I apologise for disturbing you with my outburst and I will deal with the creature and the mess forthwith." Taking a deep breath to steel herself for what she was about to do, she took a tentative step towards where the spider was still crawling, before letting out a small squeek of surprise as warm hands enveloped her waist and gently moved her to the side. She had not heard the Prince's footsteps, he moved so quietly. Wordlessly he scooped the spider into a goblet she'd dropped and walked to his balcony, opening up the doors to set it loose. By the time he'd returned, shutting the doors to block out the crisp night air, Y/N had come to her senses and cleared up the mess she'd made, tray back in hand. She felt immensely grateful to the Prince for stepping in as he had, clearly having sensed her distress, but she could not help feeling somewhat ashamed of her silliness.

Looking up from the tray she'd been holding as his boots came into her line of sight, she attempted to channel her sincere gratitude into her voice "Thank you, My Prince. I am most grateful for your kindness in stepping in, and I assure you it will not happen again." She watched as a strange look passed over Prince Aemond's features, before he leant his head down towards hers, his long platinum hair brushing against her shoulder with their proximity. "Spiders only look frightening little one, they will not harm you." There was a glint in his eye that hinted at a hidden meaning to his words, though Y/N could not understand what it was. Straightening up, Aemond lightly waved a hand in dismissal. "That will be all for this evening Y/N." Still slightly dazed from their former proximity, where she'd been close enough to smell his scent of leather, musk and pine, Y/N simply nodded before turning from him and speeding back to the servant's quarters. She felt the Prince's stare on her back until the door concealed her from his view.

Aemond had reread the same page at least thrice. He kept having to pull his eyes from his handmaiden's form as he watched her move about his chambers. She'd sparked his interest from their first meeting and though they interacted little, he consistently found himself watching her movements, though he could not tell why. Resuming his focus on his book, a shrill shriek had his eyes snapping back up to his handmaiden. Concerned she had hurt herself, perhaps cut her hand on one of the cups that had tumbled to the floor, his voice came out sharper than he'd intended in his urgency. "What is the matter?" He felt relief wash over him to learn of the reason for her outburst, and a small degree of amusement at the cause being but a little spider. This quickly diminished when he observed her genuine fear as she cowered away from the creature. She looked as if she were headed for battle rather than contending with a spider.

Rising from his seated position he quietly moved over to her, taking hold of her waist to move her aside and remove the spider himself. Returning to her side, he'd not expected the earnestness in her gaze as she thanked him. You'd have thought he saved her from Vhagar instead of a mere spider. But it was her reference to his 'kindness' that had sent his mind spinning. Kind was not a word oft associated with Aemond Targaryen, he was well aware of his reputation within the Red Keep. He felt that same strange sensation in his chest he'd noticed once before, when she'd handed him his mended eye patch. As warmth spread throughout his chest he realised he was endeared to have someone feel so positively towards him, to look to him for protection, to think him kind when this seemed laughable in conjunction with his somewhat fearsome appearance.

With a somewhat cocky smile, Aemond moved closer to the handmaiden, leaning his face close to hers. "Spiders only look frightening little one, they will not harm you." He'd hoped to subtly convey to her that he too held no danger for her, that she had no need of being so skittish around him. But he could see from the look of confusion that crossed her dainty features she had not understood his meaning fully. He did not wish to increase her level of discomfort around him so quickly straightened and offered her his dismissal. He tried not to address the sting of hurt he felt as she once again rushed away from him.

After Prince Aemond had gallantly saved her from the spider, Y/N had begun to feel more and more comfortable with him. He had not mocked her or made her feel silly for her actions, indeed he had not mentioned the incident at all. She realised that he had done nothing but try to make her feel comfortable around him and she had responded by treating him almost as if he were a snake about to strike at any moment. So she resolved to make a greater effort not to appear so frightened in his presence, her shyness be damned. She started out small at first, actually greeting him as she entered his chambers, though he seemed surprised she had even addressed him at all. Eventually she even began to ask after his day as she stoked the fire in his chambers and bid him goodnight for the evening. The Prince seemed to welcome her small attempts at conversation and readily responded, sometimes with quite extensive accounts of the events of the day.

Several days followed where their schedules did not align and Prince Aemond was absent every time Y/N entered his chambers. She tried to suppress a bizarre spark of dissapointment at this, not knowing when she had started to actually look forward to their short interactions. Dusting his bookshelf, she ran her hands over the ornate spines of the books. Laying down her duster as she carefully pulled one out to gaze at it, grazing her hand softly over the cover. "You take an interest in the Targaryen histories?" She was startled out of her reveries by Prince Aemond's question, not having heard his voice in a few days. Quickly replacing the book where it belonged she curtsied to him "I apologise My Prince, I should not have..."

The Prince walked over to her, his hair lightly swaying in tandem with his shoulders, until he was close enough to brush his arm against hers when he took the book back down from the shelf. "You are welcome to borrow a few volumes should they interest you." It was such a generous offer that Y/N was saddened to have to reject it. "Thank you My Prince, but I cannot read." Aemond seemed surprised for a moment before he cleared his throat and pulled his hands behind his back, removing the book from her line of vision. The Prince's voice was soft when he next spoke "Is it something you would like to learn?" Y/N's eyes snapped up to meet Aemond's, though she had to crane her neck to do so with him standing so close. Excitement had shot through her at a possibility she'd often longed for, she'd never had the opportunity to learn before. It was not considered necessary for her line of work.

But doubt began to fill her mind. Did the Prince mean to teach her himself? They'd come a long way from their first meetings, but she was still shy around him and could not but think such a situation would inevitably lead to embarrassment. Besides, he was a Prince and that would be beneath him. Prince Aemond did not break his focus from her but spoke before she could voice any of her concerns. "I will have my sister Helaena see to it." With that he turned from her and left his chambers entirely, leaving Y/N to stare after him, mouth hanging open at the suddenness of his departure.

Aemond had been pleased to find Y/N in his chambers, a welcome sight after many days and he quietly took in her presence as she ran her hands across his books. He watched her take a particular interest in a book detailing the histories of his House and felt a spark of something, perhaps excitement, at her sharing this interest with him. He himself was a dedicated scholar and was well versed in the histories of the House of the Dragon, such was his prerogative as a Targaryen Prince. Hoping not to startle her too much, he had asked her if this was in fact the case.

Frowning as she hastily replaced the book from whence she'd taken it, he quickly strode towards the shelf to take it back out and offer it to her. He'd thought it could be an opening for a potential friendship between them. He had noticed she'd begun to interact more with him of her own volition, taking this as a sign of her feeling increasingly comfortable in his presence.

His hopes came crashing down at his handmaiden's next admission "I cannot read." Of course, he'd been foolish not to think of it and cursed himself for potentially fracturing what little progress they'd made by potentially causing her embarrassment now. Nevertheless, he could not help himself from offering her the chance to learn, having seen her gaze so longingly at the books just moments prior. Aemond had in fact intended to teach her himself, and the initial excitement that lit her eyes at his suggestion had him believing for a moment that she would be amenable to the idea. That was before he watched her face fall, and various emotions flit across her eyes.

Perhaps he had been too hasty in his belief that she was now comfortable with him and this was the cause of her conflict. It pained him somewhat to think the idea might be so displeasing to her but he tried not to let it cloud his judgement as he tried to think of a solution that would be more acceptable to Y/N. It came to him to ask Helaena of her assistance. She had a gentle and calming disposition, at least to him, and perhaps Y/N would feel more comfortable with his sister than him. He left Y/N without waiting for her response, not wishing her to see his barely repressed dissapointment, and went to seek out his sister.

Helaena had willingly agreed to teach Y/N how to read, and Aemond had gratefully kissed his beloved sister on the crown of her head before returning to his chambers, hoping that his handmaiden would be pleased.

Y/N began to spend much of her time when she was not working occupied in the Princess Helaena's chambers. The Princess was a patient teacher and a kind soul, though she often spoke words that seemed oddly prophetic and disturbed Y/N, who could not decipher their meaning. She was grateful to the Princess for her help, and more still to Prince Aemond for securing this chance for her. More surprising was his unexpected willingness to answer any questions she had of the material she read with Helaena. The Prince seemed pleased at her questioning, always gazing at her attentively as he answered. She could not help thinking they'd managed to form a strange sort of friendship, despite her shyness and the stark difference in their positions, and she increasingly looked forward to each interaction.

Aemond was not surprised to see Y/N in his sister's chambers when he had come to visit that day. She was often there now, either leaning over a new text as his sister pointed different things out to her, or playing with his little niece and nephew. He was sure her presence was a great comfort to Helaena as well, and was glad of having introduced them. He was surprised, however, to see the look of horror on his handmaiden's face as Helaena placed a furry spider upon her outstretched arm. Her eyes widened so far it might have been comical, if he had not already been aware of her deep seated fear of the creature. All the same, he felt his heart stutter slightly at the sight, in the knowledge that his handmaiden would allow such a thing in order to please his sweet sister who was giggling slightly and cooing at her pet.

And in that moment Aemond realised what he should have done weeks ago, when he had first noted that feeling of warmth spread throughout his chest at Y/N's actions. He was falling in love with his handmaiden, or indeed already had. He was certain his mother would not be best pleased. He was a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and was surely set for a match that would be politically beneficial to his House. In truth, he found it difficult to care. He had lost so much at such a young age, and though he now rode the largest dragon in existence, he still often felt like that scared, insecure little boy who'd been mocked by his brother and nephews. He had dedicated so much of himself to embodying the role of a true Targaryen Prince, and yet his own father essentially ignored him, favouring his bastard nephews over him.

Taking all of this into consideration, was it truly wrong for him to look for a love match with someone he truly cared for? He came to his decision there and then. Aemond wanted Y/N and he would have her whether it pleased his family or otherwise. The greater problem lay in Y/N's meek disposition and wariness around him now, which had admittedly diminished but was ever present. She could hardly stand to meet his gaze for more than a few moments at a time. The Prince resolved that he would find a way to warm her heart to him, and took a step forward to rescue the object of his affections from her current predicament.

[ghostsgrl666]

knight!ghost x handmaiden!reader who can't keep their hands off of each other in corridors and secret staircases, who have to pass each other ten times a day as they both fulfill their castle duties but by the middle of the day ghost can't stand it anymore. He sees you hanging laundry just outside the servant's quarters and he sneaks up behind you, big hands engulfing your hips as his mouth swallows your gasp of surprise. knight!ghost who stares a hole through your tight, full bodice all night during the banquet as you pour drinks and pretend not to notice. knight!ghost who sneaks every night by candlelight through the dark underground corridors of the castle to get to your room, to climb into your tiny bed and press his face into the back of your neck. knight!ghost who has to ride into town the next day to help the king investigate the suspicious dissapearance of one of his lords, the same lord who had gotten a little too drunk and a little too handsy with you at the banquet.

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden. Pt3

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Jaime Lannister: SMUT threesome, voyerism, praise kink, oral (Male receiving) )

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

After the event with the mare, the queen saw fit that you would be given basic riding lessons.

"Right, now just do exactly as he says" Cersei emphasized. "No second guessing or backtalk. Treat him as you would me."

"Of course, Your Grace" You were wrapped in a thin wool cloak and worn leather boots, bracing against the chill of the coming autumn. The summer had to end sometime, you supposed.

"My brother is being very generous, offering to teach you." Cersei reminded you.

"I am very grateful for the help" You kept your eyes trained ahead, not wanted to see presumptuous by looking at the queen too much or talking too much.

It was bizarre, two high-borns taking such an interest in someone like you. It made you uneasy, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I certainly don't to embarrass myself more than I already have."

Jaime was waiting for you by the stables, dressed in sturdy riding leather. His blonde hair flopped into his eyes and was brushed back with a gloved hand before he spotted your approach and smiled charmingly.

"Sweet sister" he greeted Cersei before resting his pale green eyes on you "And your new plaything."

"Now Jaime" Cersei chided him, "Be nice, Y/N isn't used to your teasing like I am."

"She will be" Jaime smirked at you, watching the blush creep up your neck and across your face. "Come, let's get started."

"I'll be waiting with the party, my dear." Cersei touched your shoulder, quickening your pulse as you whipped around.

"Your Grace, you're leaving?"

"Rest assured, you are in good hands" The queen insisted, flashing you a cryptic smile. "Good luck"

"Charming, isn't she?" Jaime came from behind you, watching as his sister left you to your own devices. "Come now, the faster we start, the faster you can stop being bullied by Clegane and that rabid stallion of his."

Eager to stand (er, ride) on your own two feet, you followed him before realizing there was only one horse readied.

"Uh, Ser?"

"You didn't think I'd jump to letting you ride on your own that quickly, did you?" Jaime practically laughed in your face. "Here, you first."

"I..." you gawked at the saddle the horse was set with. "You mean riding astride?"

"Something wrong with it?"

You thought for a moment before embracing your mistress's request to trust the knight.

"No, not at all"

He hoisted you up onto the back of his sturdy mount before swinging his legs up behind you. You swallowed a gasp, suddenly finding yourself pressed between the pommel of the saddle and Ser Jaime's chest.

"Let's get into some open terrain so you have space to learn"

Before you could protest, the knight had set the beast off at a quick gallop, one hand gripping the reigns and the other arm wrapped firmly around your waist to keep you from falling off.

Once you were well away from the party and in a broad scope of field, Jaime stopped the horse.

"Now," He handed you the reigns and without preamble place two solid hands on your shoulders. "The first thing to know about proper horse riding is your posture. You want to guide the beast properly? You have to sit it properly."

He gently guided your shoulder back, straightening your spine in the process.

"Now there's a saying my riding master taught me as a boy. And while it may seem forward, I need you to trust me."

Your skin prickled at the near constant contact between your bodies but tried to push it down and focus on the lesson. "Her Grace insisted you were the best. You have my full trust, Ser."

"Good Girl" Jaime praised in a tone that almost melted into a purr. "Now the first thing you want to remember about riding a horse is; Shoulders like a Soldier..."His hands slid from your shoulders, down your arms, before coming to rest on your hips. "and Hips like a Whore."

"Ser!" You gasped but Jaime tutted you into submission.

"I warned you it was forward, but just trust me." He soothed, "Now I am going to drive the horse forward slowly, and I want you to just-" His grip on your hips tightened "Follow the motion."

The beast began to move forward at a gentle walk and as the they went; Jaime's hands slowly guided your hips to match the motion of the horse's gait.

"A little faster?" He asked and you nodded, growing in confidence.

The walk turned to a trot, and the trot to a brisk cantor, and finally to a full gallop which left you breathless, clinging to the horse with your thighs as if you might fall off at any moment.

"Very good" Jaime practically cooed in your ear, slowing the beast back down to a peaceful trop. "You are everything my sister promised."

You beamed at that, proud to have lived up to your mistress's praises.

As your breath returned to you, you began to notice something different. Something that hadn't been there when you started your ride.

A hardness pressed against your ass, brushing up against you with the motion of the beast below you.

"S-ser Jaime." You swallowed. "We should go-"

"Go back, so soon?" Jaime crooned, pulling you closer to him in the saddle and bringing the horse back to a quick trot. "It's a lovely day, we should take advantage of it"

The hardness grew, and you tried not to notice until you felt it twitch slightly and Jaime muffled a moan in his throat.

"I don't think Her Grace would-"

"Would what?" Jaime grinned knowingly at your confused tone. "Sweetling, why do you think she left you out here all alone with me?"

"Because she trusts you, you're her brother."

"Hm" Jaime's hands massaged your hips slowly, running over your soft thighs and even venturing around to the front to cup your sex through your skirt.

You gasped at the sudden touch, pulse pounding as his two fingers skillfully located your slit and began to rub gently through the fabric of your dress.

"Ser" You breathed, trying to organize your thoughts as Jaime pulled your hips back to him, your back flush against his chest, rubbing slow circles through your skirt with the tips of his fingers.

"Just relax, sweetling" He breathed into your ear, "If you get too excited, the horse will sense it. Then we're both in trouble."

"We shouldn't..."

"I don't see you stopping me." He pointed out, hips continuing to brush the length of his cock against your ass. "All I feel is your body heating up against mine. Are you getting excited?"

"Oh Gods." Without thinking, you scrambled off the horse, falling onto your back as you did so.

Jaime laughed out loud, dismounting skillfully and grabbing you by the ankle before you could run for camp.

"Easy, easy girl" He chuckled, batting off you attempts to kick him like they were nothing. "Just calm down."

"The Queen will know." You gasped, heart suddenly pounding. "Her Grace, she trusted me, she's done so much for me, and now I'm here with you and she'll be so angry."

Hot tears began to stream down your face as you began to panic. Jaime paled, not expecting this to go this badly as he attempted to shush your sobs.

"No, no, no, Darling. Just listen, just listen" He tried to grab your attention. "Look, we'll go back to camp. We'll see my sister. Everything will be okay; I swear to you."

Not quite believing him and half convinced your mistress would abandon you here in the wilderness as soon as she heard, you wiped your tears and nodded.

Jaime gathered you in his arms and guided you back to the horse and ferried you both back to the party. He did his best to hide your distress from everyone else as you approached the queen's royal caravan.

"Enter." Cersei turned eagerly as her brother entered, giddy to see how her plan unfolded before her face fell. "What happened?"

Jaime opened his mouth to explain but before he could, you fell to your knees and bowed lowly.

"Your Grace," You sobbed into the ground. "I'm so sorry, I have failed you and betrayed you. I am not worthy of your mercy, but I beg for it all the same."

"I-" Cersei starred at Jaime who shook his head, shrugging in a helpless fashion. "Jaime, what did you do?"

"Exactly what you told me to do, I swear." Jaime insisted,

"Oh" Cersei's mind clicked with understanding and an amused smile crept across her face. "Oh, Y/N. You stupid little thing. Get up."

You obeyed, wiping your tears as the Queen knelt down to look at you.

"Y/N, I sent you out with Jaime *hoping* he would seduce you."

"What?"

"Yes, sweetling." She laughed, "You've been so good for me these last few weeks, and I wanted to reward you. You foolish girl, look at you worked up over nothing. Don't you feel ridiculous?"

You did, ridiculous and embarrassed and ashamed.

"Ser Jaime, I owe you an apology." You couldn't meet his eye, "Her Grace told me to trust you and instead I took you for a villain. Please forgive me?"

"I suppose I can." The knight nodded. "Though you did leave me in quite the uncomfortable position."

"Oh" a blush flooded your face again. "I'm sorry."

"Sweetling" Cersei placed a hand on the top of your head, "You aren't thinking of denying my reward for you, are you?"

"I-" The words caught in your throated. "Your Grace, I-. But-"

"Jaime, come here." Cersei beckoned her brother closer, leaning in to whisper in your ear, "You haven't quite earned the privilege of my bed yet. Treat Ser Jaime as you would me."

Your instructions were clear, and if it pleased your mistress, you were more than happy to comply.

Cersei's nimble hands reached forward to undo the laces of Jaime's trousers, pushing you forward to do the rest as she returned to the chaise with an eager gleam in her eye.

"Have you ever bedded a man before?" Jaime asked and you nodded. It had only been once, but you remembered how everything worked.

Peeling through layers of fabric, you freed the knight's semi-hard cock from his small clothes and scooted closer to him on your knees. A deep rumble of a groan filled the caravan as you took the tip in your mouth, sucking gently before taking more and more length down your throat. Before long, the tip of your nose was buried in the patch of fine blond hair at the base.

"Gods" Jaime breathed, a hand reaching down to grasp at your hair. "Gently, darling gent-" His words caught in his throat as you drew your tongue up the length of him before swiftly taking it whole, gagging slightly to accommodate it. The taste of salty pre-cum coated your taste buds and you hummed with satisfaction.

"That's enough."

You paused your ministrations when your mistress cut in sharply.

"Jaime," she crooned lowly, "Don't be greedy."

Jaime sighed, his brow already shining with perspiration as he withdrew his cock from your throat, a thin strand of saliva hanging from your lips as you gazed up at him.

"The queen is right, sweetling." He sighed, guiding you up by the tip of your chin. "This is supposed to be your reward, not mine."

Eagerly, you allowed him to unlace your bodice and aided him in removing your skirt and small clothes.

"Excited little thing, aren't you?" He chuckled, pulling you in for a deep kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips pleadingly until you parted them, making sure to explore his mouth as much as he did yours. He growled at this, unaccustomed to not being the dominant one, but you responded by sharply nipping his lower lip and grinning. He pulled away with a challenged look, as if calculating his next move.

"Come here" He spat, spinning you around and pulling your back flush against his chest, one hand snaked to your throat as the other danced across your chest. His calloused fingers grazed over your nipples, which responded eagerly as he palmed the softness of your breasts.

"Look" He breathed in your ear, rubbing his hips against your ass as he had in the field. "If you'd been a good girl, we'd have had privacy. Now look at you, about to be fucked in front of your queen."

You moaned at this, biting your lower lip and closing your eyes as he chuckled against your shoulder.

"Or maybe you like this better? Tell me, how long has it been since you've been properly fucked, hm? Years, perhaps?" His hand wondered between your legs once more, locating the sensitive bundle of nerves he knew drove women wild.

"That's right sweet girl," He breathed, firmly pressing his fingers against your clit. Your body tensed and your hips didn't know if they should chase the pleasure of his fingers or flee the intensity of the electricity building between your legs. "Now now, you stay right there."

One hand tweaking your hard nipples and the other pressing your ass against the knight's cock as it circled your clit, you knew you wouldn't last long like this. Your thighs trembled and tried to tighten around his hand, which only made him tease you more.

"Look at this sister, only a few minutes and her body is begging for release. Is that what you want, sweetling? To cum in front of your mistress?"

"Gods, yes! Please, please, please." You begged, skin slick with sweat.

"What a sweet girl, begging so nicely for us." Jaime cooed, sucking on the crook of your neck with a humming laugh. "What do you think, sister?"

You looked up and saw your mistress's face alight with excitement, her own thighs squeezing together as she watched the show her brother put on for her.

"I think....not"

You whined when Jaime all at once withdrew his touch from your body.

"Take her to the bed. I want to watch her cum around you." Cersei requested and Jaime gladly obliged.

"Tell me, sweet sister," Jaime hummed, watching Cersei leave her chaise to meet him at the bed where he deposited your aching, desperate body. "How would you like your little slave fucked?"

"Bend her over" Cersei demanded without hesitation, cupping your face almost gently as Jaime flipped you on your stomach. "I want to watch your face when he fucks you."

Her words drove another spike of need between your legs as Jaime spread your thighs and thrust into your dripping cunt without preamble. The sudden intrusion made you instantly clench around him and claw at the bedding desperately as he drove into you over and over.

"Look at me." Cersei cooed, watching your eyes dart rapidly trying to find her, "Gods, you look so pretty like this. How does he feel inside of you? What I would give to fuck you like this." Her hands petted your hair, damp and clinging to your neck and forehead with sweat. When she spoke to you like this, it was like the whole world melted away and became an extension of her. Even Jaime, especially Jaime, was just an extension of her and her will. She was the one who was fucking you right now, and it was her who made the muscles in your core snap as waves of pleasure washed over you.

When your body began to spasm under him, Jaime could only hold back long enough to pull out as quickly as he possibly could, coating your ass and back with ropes of cum. His weight collapsed on top of you for a moment, both of you breathing heavy. Both of you feeling like you'd been fucked by someone who hadn't even touched you.

Cersei rose up off the bed and tossed a rag at Jaime before leaning over you again, peppering soft kisses over your still sensitive skin.

"Good girl, sweet girl, how wonderful you've been for me." she purred.

[happy74827]

Take Me Over

[Nick Blaine x Wife!Reader]

Synopsis: In the heart of Gilead’s oppressive regime, you find yourself thrust into a marriage with Nick Blaine, a man whose silent demeanor hides a truth you’ve realized to be shared.

WC: 2189

Category: Lime/Spice, Slight Fluff {TW — Forced Marriage}

I’m back at it again with another character that no one seems to write about 🥲 (I love him your honor)

『••✎••』

The dim light of the candles flickered in the oppressive silence of the room. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands tightly gripping the stack of letters tied together by a brown string while you contemplated what you were about to do.

It’s been a total of two days since you were placed to be a part of the household of Commander Fred and Mrs. Waterford. Two days since you were forced into a role that you were not comfortable with. Two days since a new life was placed before you.

Two days since your marriage, and now here you are, sitting on the edge of a bed, dreading the moment that the door would open and once again reveal the man who was forced to be your husband.

Nick Blaine, that was his name, and it was all that was given to you. You knew nothing about him. All you knew was that you were his wife, and he was your husband, and you both had a role to play. Though, if the letters that you currently held in your hands were anything to go by, Nick Blaine, your husband, played the role of a rebel.

Shock. It was the first thing that you felt when you discovered the stack of letters hidden behind one of the drawers in the room. Then, curiosity. What exactly were they? You were so intrigued that you couldn't help yourself. You had to find out.

You didn’t regret it.

You didn't even want to.

What you had found was something you could not believe. Something so secret and dangerous that you could not fathom. The contents of the letters, the words written upon the papers, were like a breath of fresh air.

Stories, that's what they were. Stories that you would tell in hushed whispers. Stories that were passed around. Stories of the world before Gilead.

They seemed to be all handmaids. Handmaids telling their side of the story. Brave women who would take such risks, who would defy the rules, just to let their voices be heard.

They were inspiring, and as you read through them, you realized the more dangerous these letters were, the more powerful. And the more powerful they were, the more they were needed.

It was a small act of defiance, but it was enough. It was something that could keep the flame of hope alive, and that is exactly what they needed in the current situation.

But the question still stands. What was Nick Blaine doing with them?

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel, especially now that you were aware that a man of his stature and position could risk everything for the sake of those who were fighting against Gilead.

So many things were racing in your mind, but then it hit you. The soft glow in his eyes whenever Waterford’s handmaiden was around. The way he looked at her. Sympathy and guilt. He cared for her.

The revelation was almost jarring, but you weren’t too surprised. Nick always seemed different from the others. Hell, it’s been two days, and he hasn’t touched you.

You could almost guarantee that all the other men who were promoted and newly married would have already taken their wives by now. They would’ve taken their wife that night after the ceremony. But not him. Not Nick.

You were grateful.

He had a heart, and that's all that mattered.

A knock on the door snapped you back into reality, and before you could even respond, the door was opening.

It was Nick.

For a split second, the two of you just stared at each other, his eyes moving in slow motion as they trailed from your face to the stack of letters you were holding.

Of course, as he did so, all you could do was look at him in admiration. He was always easy on the eyes before, with hair and eyes that were darker than the luxurious dark chocolate you once loved to eat before Gilead. But, knowing what you know now, everything about him was just much more attractive.

But then, a flicker of fear was shown in his eyes, and all at once, the atmosphere seemed to grow tense.

Without saying a word, Nick stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. You could visibly see a sweat drop trickling down his neck as he tried to compose himself, his eyes never leaving the letters that were clutched tightly in your hands.

"Nick." You whispered, and you could see him stiffen at the mention of his name. The poor man was terrified, and it was heartbreaking.

"How much did you read?" His voice was rough and gravelly, and the sound was music to your ears.

"Enough." You answered, and without missing a beat, you slowly stood up and began to make your way toward him. "Enough to know I can trust you."

Your response was met with a surprised look, and it was clear to you that he was not expecting that. Truthfully, you were surprised yourself.

This was all new to you. You've never spoken so freely before, and you never expected the day would come when you would have the courage to defy the rules. But today was a strange day.

"I’ve never believed in miracles," You whispered, taking a few steps forward. Your eyes were locked with his, and you could see the surprise and curiosity swirling around in his beautiful, dark brown eyes. "but you might be the closest thing to one I could get."

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you slowly walked towards him, and as the two of you were only mere inches away from each other, you raised the stack of letters and gently pushed it towards him.

"You need to do better than hiding them behind a drawer, though. I almost tripped on it when it fell out." You said, and for the first time since you had met him, you saw his lips curl up into a ghost of a smile.

"Noted."

And then the two of you lapsed into silence. A comfortable silence that was filled with the soft glow of the candle and the faint crackling sound of the fire.

That night was the night your trust was built and the beginning of a bond that would eventually bring the two of you together.

It was a couple of months later, when he returned from Canada with the Waterfords, that your relationship from close friends to lovers began.

He’d gotten the letters out. He’d finally gotten them out, and as the news of the failed union between Canada and Gilead left his lips, all you could think about was the relief and the excitement.

Your heart was overflowing with joy, and your body was filled with a sense of warmth that you had long forgotten. Nick had done it. Nick had finally done it.

As soon as he finished recounting, you rushed to embrace him. A strong grip wrapped itself around his waist, and your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Nick, on the other hand, was stiff as a board. Even though you two were married to each other, he still felt that it was inappropriate for him to touch you in such a manner.

The thought didn’t last long, however, as you pulled away and gave him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

Your smile was radiant. Your eyes were twinkling, and your face was glowing. For the first time in a long time, you were truly happy. And Nick didn't think that he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

"I'm proud of you."

Your words were soft, and as you placed your hand on his chest, you could feel his heartbeat quicken beneath your palm.

His eyes were locked on yours, and he could see the emotions swirling around in your eyes.

Relief. Excitement. Happiness. Admiration.

The list could go on, but in the end, all that mattered was that he could see the love that you held for him.

And that… that look was all it took for his hands to gently grasp your shoulders and guide you backward as you told him another set of words about how he was a hero and that he was amazing.

You didn’t even realize what he was doing until your back felt the concrete wall. Once you realized you weren’t moving anymore, you paused and looked at him, and the moment you did, your breath got caught in your throat.

Nick was looking at you with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. His hands had moved from your shoulders to the nape of your neck, and the warmth of his skin sent a shiver down your spine.

"Nick." You whispered, watching as his thumb grazed the outline of your bottom lip. It was a simple, tender gesture, but it was enough to send butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You couldn’t get a response out, not even a single word, as you watched his eyes glance down at your lips, his own tongue darting out to lick his.

Then, his head was moving forward, and his lips were brushing against yours. It was a ghost of a kiss, barely touching your lips, but the electricity was there. It was a spark that made your entire body tingle and your heart race.

When Nick pulled away, he was met with your intense gaze. You were almost upset at the weak display. Even though you understood his hesitation, a part of you was hoping he would be braver.

"That's it?" You murmured, a hint of teasing in your voice.

And the moment those words left your mouth, he was smirking. He was actually smirking, and his fingers were running through your hair.

"Are you asking me for more?" He asked, his voice low and deep, sending another shiver down your spine.

"I’m not asking," You breathed out, leaning in close and pressing your forehead against his. The moment you did, his grip tightened around your waist, and his free hand slid down to your hip, squeezing it slightly. "You were brave enough to get those letters out. Be brave enough to kiss me like you mean it."

Those were the magic words.

He didn't say anything in response.

He didn't need to.

Instead, his hands went back to the nape of your neck, and his lips were once again on yours. Only this time, it was not a ghostly touch. It was real, and the moment his lips were on yours, all your senses were flooded with him.

You could feel his warm, plush lips molding against yours and the gentle way his fingers were running through your hair.

But what made you absolutely weak was the taste of him. Your legs were almost wobbling the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth. It was like a dance, his tongue brushing against yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And as the two of you kissed, all the tension and the desire that had been building up in the past months slowly dissipated.

Your heart was racing, and your mind was in a daze. The only thing you were thinking about was Nick and his lips. And as his fingers gripped onto the strands of your hair and the way his hips began to press against yours, all you could think about was getting him closer.

So, your hands traveled down from his chest and to his back, gripping the material of his jacket as you pulled him towards you.

The action elicited a groan from the back of his throat, and his hips began to press firmly against yours. You could feel the way his hips were subtly grinding against yours, and as his hardness began to rub against the thin material of your dress, the moan that escaped your lips was swallowed by his mouth.

The kiss was turning heated and passionate, and your lips were swollen and bruised. Your fingers were tugging on his hair, and his were clutching at the strands of your own.

His teeth gently bit down on your bottom lip, and a moan escaped your lips; the sound was swallowed by his mouth, and you could feel him smiling.

You and Nick were so lost in each other that night, so focused on the taste of one another and the way his body was pressed against yours; it created a bubble where you both were safe, warm, and blissful.

It was the first time in a long time either of you had felt that way, and that feeling continued to grow, and eventually, it blossomed into a love that was deeper than the ocean and brighter than the sun.

And that was when you realized that no matter what happened, the two of you would always have each other, and no matter how cruel the world was, the two of you would always find a way to stay true to yourselves.

[madame-fear]

Could i request something with a possessive Rhaenyra protecting her blind!handmaiden!reader from some handsy lord?

(sure thing! loved thisss 💜💙 and i hope you do as well, and it was what you expected! i love writing for Rhaenyra aghhdhjdk)

As you are a blind handmaiden whom has been with her for many years, Rhaenyra would’ve always been extremely protective of you. And I mean protective, to a whole another extreme.

Obviously, for you it’s always been difficult to carry with a normal life, even been frustrated at your condition because you wish you could serve her as a proper handmaiden; but Nyra would always stay by your side, takes you with her everywhere, would have your hand always looped around her arm, and would even protect you at the slightest inconvenience that there could be.

With the passing of time, she just grew a little bit too overpritective of you. If you aren’t near her and she briefly loses you from her sight, Nyra will immediatly panic. But obviously, in any way you can, you try to stay as close as you can from her without going too far. Not that you would dare going far or you can, anyways.

So, she would just... Grow possesive of you. More than fond, and you clearly are far more than a simple handmaiden to her. Nyra would keep you safe with her life, you are just an important part of her. You are like ther little treasure, and you would be as privileged as to receive endearing Valyrian nicknames for her.

And when someone tries to abuse you? Oh, she would just lose it entirely. No one has the right ti disrespect, or try to abuse you in any possible way, no matter who has disrespected you; whether it’s a Lord, Lady, Prince, Princess... It doesn’t matter.

If a handsy Lord tries to abuse from you, knowing that you’re blind and you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself much against the touching, her blood would just boil. Immediatly she would pull you away from him, and would just comfort you with sweet words letting you know that she’s there to protect you from everything and everyone, no matter what.

Afterwards, let’s say Rhaenyra would take good care of that handsy Lord that tried to hurt her beloved treasure. Not with verbal confrontation, perhaps she would have his hands or tongue... Or, she would just throw him as a treat to Syrax.

♡ taglist : ♡

@tickle-euphoria @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @zzz000eee @visenyacore @hannaroktj

[narumi-gens]

From the Ashes | Part Two

Mei Mei x f!Reader

summary: Mei Mei arrives at your uncle's estate as a con woman. She leaves it as your savior.

warnings: 18+ minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, smut, angst with a happy ending, historical (1920s) au, gothic romance, total rip-off of park chan-wook's masterpiece the handmaiden, con woman!mei mei, sexually and emotionally repressed reader, mentioned physical and emotional abuse, reader has some faint scars, reader continues to seem like she's losing it at times, mentioned incest, mentioned torture, mentioned suicide, mentioned murder, reader has some form of suicidal ideation, fingering, oral (f receiving and giving, obvs), rimming, masturbation, squirting, outdoor sex, mild exhibitionism, sexual awakening

words: 6.3k

notes: mind the tags! things are getting darker here, but also hornier so it all evens out.

series masterlist

Your uncle informs Mei Mei that he’s been called away on business and will be gone for a week. From the expectant look in his eyes, she knows that her time is running out. She has seven days to convince you to run off with her before she needs to decide whether to cut her losses. 

The morning he leaves, she plays the part of a besotted woman yearning for her partner’s return, wishing him well and for him to come home to her soon. But a few hours later, the pretense is done away with entirely as she corners you when you least expect it. 

Her hand darts out into the hallway as you're passing by to grab your wrist and pull you into the empty sitting room where she’s been lying in wait. She’s just able to catch the startled look on your face as she shuts the door and presses you against it before her lips are on yours, cutting off any protest you might attempt to make.

There’s an instinctual impulse for you to fight her off, trying to shove at her shoulders and wriggle away from her, but it quickly fades away as you melt into her embrace and begin to cautiously kiss her back. It doesn’t take long until you’re eagerly accepting her advances with pitiful whimpers and soft moans that she greedily devours. Your gloved hands have stopped pushing her away and have dropped to cling tightly to the fabric of your dress.

For as shrewd as you are, there’s a clumsiness to the way your lips meet hers that betrays your inexperience and naivete and it only spurs Mei Mei on.

With one hand cupping your jaw, she slides her other down your body, making sure to caress every curve she comes across and relishing the sharp inhale you let out as she squeezes one of your tits over your clothes. When she reaches your thigh, she tugs on the long skirt of your dress and you quickly release the expensive material so that she can pull the hem high enough to slip her hand underneath it and between your legs. 

Her skillful fingers are met with the finest silk money can buy only to find that it’s already soaked through from the little attention she’s shown you. You’re like a fully ripe peach that’s ready to be plucked from the branch and devoured.

As she plays with your pussy – stroking your slit over the drenched fabric of your underwear before pushing the material to the side to touch your heated folds directly, rolling your slippery clit, burying a single finger into your tight, tight cunt because that's all it can handle – she savors your moans, your blissed-out expression, and how your thighs are squeezing tight around her hand, not trying to stop her but trying to keep her there.

You’re seemingly unsure what to do with your hands otherwise and are too reserved to dare return her embrace, despite how she has a digit pumping in and out of your slick heat. Instead, your fingers scramble for purchase against the door at your sides through the haze of pleasure, the material of your gloves repeatedly slipping on the wood.

She’s unsurprised that it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming on her fingers with a sharp gasp and your head tossed back. With how inexperienced you are and how isolated you’ve been your whole life, she wonders if this is your first orgasm. 

Wearing a dangerous smirk, Mei Mei finds herself thinking that she could easily grow addicted to giving them to you. 

When she removes her hand from between your legs, you watch with lidded eyes and a heaving chest as she brings her dripping fingers to her plush lips and slowly licks each one clean. Just that small sample is delicious enough that she can’t wait to try you directly from the source.

She leans in to give you another slow, lingering kiss so that you can taste yourself on her tongue before she grabs onto your waist and gently slides you along the wall until you’re no longer blocking the door.

Her eyes twinkle when she releases you and sees how your legs tremble, knowing that it’s only the wall you’re leaning against that keeps you from collapsing in a heap at her feet. But she says nothing as she opens the door and leaves the room without sparing you another glance.  

Dinner that evening is silent. You sit across from one another, neither of you saying a word as you eat. When you finish your meal, you stand up and bid her a polite goodnight – the only words you’ve spoken to her all evening. 

Late that night, after she’s seen your handmaiden retire with the rest of the staff to the servant quarters near the Japanese wing of the estate where the guest quarters are located, she slinks under the cover of darkness through the Western side of the house and up its grand staircase to where she knows your bedroom sits. 

The door is unlocked when she opens it to find you standing at the window and gazing out into the gardens. Based on your mussed hair and the rumpled sheets in your bed, you’ve spent the last few hours tossing and turning until you seemingly decided to give up on sleep altogether.

You don’t appear surprised to see her. As you watch her enter and close the door behind her, locking it for good measure, Mei Mei can feel how your gaze roves up and down her form, which is clad in only a beautiful silk robe that clings to every voluptuous curve. The only light in your room comes from the full moon hanging in the cloudless night sky, but it’s more than enough for her to see the longing in your eyes as she crosses the adjoining sitting area in your room to meet you at the window.

You’ve been hoping for this and it makes her smirk.

She slowly tugs the sash around your waist loose before pushing the soft material of your own robe from your shoulders to meet the belt at your feet, baring you fully to her. Bathed in the moonlight, your nipples hard under her stare, your teeth sinking nervously into your bottom lip, and your chest rising and falling rapidly with want, Mei Mei finds you more beautiful than the fortune that you’re sitting on. 

She skims one lone fingertip across your collarbone and down to circle a pebbled nipple, avoiding touching the bud directly. There’s no need to rush after all. In the privacy of your bedroom, with the late hour and the household staff long asleep, there’s no need to rush. 

She can take her time with you. 

With a hand on your waist, your skin hot under her touch, she guides you to the bed, laying you out before her and then slipping her robe off to join yours on the floor, leaving her just as bare as you. She sees a flash of pink as your tongue darts out to briefly lick at your lips and from how entranced you seem by the generous curves of her tits, she doubts you’re even aware that you’ve done so.

She merely gives you an indulgent smile as she climbs onto the bed and kneels at your side. You instinctively raise a hand out to her before your senses seem to return to you and you quickly retract it, curling it into a fist and cradling it close to your chest. The motion is reminiscent of a child reaching out to grab what they want only to be harshly scolded.

But what catches her attention is how this is the first time she’s seen your hands completely bare. Without your gloves and with your hand in a fist, she’s able to see the faint lines scarred across the knuckles of your dominant hand. 

They’re clearly years old by this point and only noticeable because Mei Mei notices everything. It’s obvious what they’re from though. Your hand bears the scars of a child who was repeatedly struck across the knuckles and she can only imagine how harsh each blow was to have left such a permanent reminder etched into your skin. 

For as much as her curiosity has been piqued, she doesn’t linger on them. You hide them behind your gloves for a reason and she won’t make you doubt yourself when she already has you right where she wants you. But much like every other piece of information she learns about you, she tucks it away for later to be added to the puzzle.

Instead, she gently but firmly takes your curled first and brings it up to her chest, unfurling your fingers with her thumb and pressing your hand to her breast. You softly gasp as your palm makes contact with her smooth skin and she absently wonders when you last touched another person of your own free will, if ever. 

Her hand guides yours to cup and squeeze her tit, encouraging you to take whatever it is you desire — especially when that thing is Mei Mei. Once she feels that you no longer need her wordless instruction, she leans down and finally presses her smiling lips to yours in a gentle, teasing kiss that you quickly return, eager for more. 

Your tongue is warm and wet against hers as she guides you by example, enjoying the little whimpers that escape you. They only grow louder and more pitiful when she begins to move her mouth away from yours to capture a nipple between her lips, sucking and swirling her tongue around it before lavishing the other with the same treatment. 

While Mei Mei’s hand still keeps one of yours to her breast, your other one has found its way into her long, silver strands, pressing her closer to your tits as your thighs rub together with need. When she starts to turn her attention away from your chest, you protest with a softly moaned, “Mei?”

Hearing her name on your pretty lips without an honorific attached to it sends a rush of wetness to her own cunt. She gently shushes you as she starts to leave a trail of kisses and licks down your torso, moving to lay between your legs. In a practiced movement, she tosses a thigh over each delicate shoulder and you gasp at the mere sensation of her breath against your dripping pussy.

She uses her thumbs to gently part your glistening folds and grins when she sees how needy you clearly are, your clit swollen and slick leaking from your twitching hole to make a mess of the sheets below your ass. She thinks she could continue to drink in the sight for hours, if not days. But she’s never been one to deny herself what she wants, so she doesn’t hesitate any longer before burying her face in your weeping cunt. 

You writhe beneath her with every suck of your clit and flick of her tongue, moaning aloud into the darkness of your bedroom. She inserts one finger inside of you, meeting no resistance with how wet you are, and gives it a few pumps before coyly asking if you can take another. You nod without thinking. In this state, you would agree to anything — just as she planned. 

A soft hiss escapes you from the sting as a second finger slides inside of you to join the first, unaccustomed to being stretched in such a manner. But whatever pain you’re feeling quickly morphs into pleasure as she massages your walls. It doesn’t take long before you’re meeting each thrust of her fingers.

When the pads of her fingers find a spongy spot inside of you, a hand darts down to the back of her head to keep her mouth right where it is. It’s a far cry from how you were too timid to touch her earlier in the sitting room. But just like that afternoon, you cum for her quickly, your head tossed back into your pillows, your back arched up from the mattress, your thighs clenched as close as they can be with her head between them, and your walls spasming around her fingers.

Her name leaves your lips like a hymn that consists of only one word sung over and over again to the gods, “Mei, Mei, Mei.”

It’s one that you sing all night as she makes you cum again and again and again with her pretty lips and talented tongue and deft fingers. And you receive everything she gives you without complaint or protest, hungry for every scrap of the pleasure that’s been so foreign to you up until 12 hours ago.

When she finally has to leave you in the early hours of the morning, you’re an exhausted mess. Your folds are swollen from overstimulation and every so often there’s a slight twitch in your muscles. She helps you dress in your discarded robe once more, guiding your limbs through the sleeves and tying the sash in a perfect bow before tucking you back into bed. 

There’s an urge to crawl into the sheets beside you, but even an amateur con artist would know the danger of being caught in your bed by your handmaiden. So, she parts from you with a lingering kiss that wordlessly promises this is only the beginning. 

With every step she takes back to her room, the wetness between her legs grows more and more uncomfortable. When she slides between the sheets of her own bed, she quickly slips her hand between her thighs and begins to play with her pussy until she cums on the same fingers that have spent the past few hours buried inside of you and with your taste still on her tongue.

Come morning, breakfast proceeds much in the same way that dinner did the night before – in silence and with a tepid acknowledgment of one another. But that afternoon after lunch, Mei Mei stops you before you can leave the dining room.

“Would you like to take me on a tour of the gardens?” she asks innocently and from the way you suddenly stiffen, she’s sure that the request alone is enough to make you wet if you weren’t already. 

In the most secluded spot on the estate, hidden deep in the garden’s wooded area, there’s a small break in the trees that allows the sun to warm the patch of grass at the center. The house is a good twenty-minute walk from where you’ve secluded yourselves, which means there’s no need to worry that someone may stumble across you.

If they did, the scene would undoubtedly leave them shocked and scandalized. They would find an heiress on her knees, her cheek and chest pressed into the soft grass, bent over by the woman currently being wooed by her uncle. 

Your skirt is pulled up around your waist to allow her full access from behind as she buries two fingers knuckle-deep inside of you and circles your slippery clit with her thumb. Her free hand is placed above your clothing on your lower back, pressing your spine into an arch that only enhances how deep she can reach with every thrust. 

Your moans and cries of her name fill the clearing and if Mei Mei was feeling crueler, she would condescendingly tell you to hush. But for as cruel as she is, she doesn’t feel the need to be cruel with you. From the way your scarred knuckles shine under the bright sun as your bare fingers tug at the grass on either side of your head, your gloves discarded off to the side, she thinks you’ve already experienced more than your share. 

She chooses instead to enjoy your lack of inhibitions, your sense of propriety tossed out the window. Whether it’s with her fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, or with her lips wrapped tight around your clit, or with her tongue slowly licking at the ring of muscle a little higher up, she revels in pulling orgasm after orgasm from you in the small clearing.

By the time the sun has started to sink deeper in the sky, you’re nothing but a heap on the grass as Mei Mei’s fingers and the lower half of her face are absolutely drenched with your slick. When you manage to roll onto your back, you give her an easy smile that looks so foreign on your face, but at the same time seems like the only thing that belongs there.

You press the back of your trembling hand to your sweaty forehead and softly laugh with a disbelieving shake of your head before beckoning her closer. She quickly complies, letting you wrap her in your arms and hold her close as she gives you a slow and languid kiss, liking the way your smiling lips feel against hers.

On the slow journey back to the large, looming house, you walk close to her, your shoulders touching and the backs of your fingers intimately brushing against hers. And even once you’re back inside the house’s cold and dark walls, there’s a lightness inside of you that she hasn’t seen before.

It carries you through another quiet dinner. It carries you as you bid her a polite but cool goodnight.

It carries you to straddle her lap where you ride her fingers while she worships your tits with her lips and tongue when she comes to visit you just as she had the night before. 

And it carries you to you sit on her face, one knee on each side of her head as you let her hands on your ass guide you into grinding down on her mouth until you’re falling apart on her tongue for the umpteenth time in two days.

The next afternoon finds you both having tea in the same sitting room where she first cornered you, this time seated next to one another on the couch by the room’s large window that looks out into the gardens. And once again, her fingers are buried in your cunt as she watches on with hungry eyes. 

Your hand is slapped over your mouth to keep you from crying out and catching the attention of any one of the servants who may be passing by in the hallway. The only sounds in the room are your panting and the slick sound of her fingers as they slide in and out of your needy pussy. 

When she feels your walls beginning to spasm, she uses her free hand to guide your face into her neck so that you can softly moan her name against her skin as you fall apart. 

There’s a vulnerability to the way you stay there after you cum, cuddled close even once she’s removed her fingers from you and your breathing has returned to normal. And something about it has her starting to consider you as part of the fortune she intends to steal. 

That night when she visits you, it’s your turn to take her by surprise. Because when she crawls into your bed, you guide her with nervous hands into a position she never would have expected from you. Her face is buried in your cunt just like it has been for the last two nights, but your face is now also buried in hers as you both lay on your sides, giving and receiving at the same time. 

Your inexperience shines through once again, but Mei Mei savors it, knowing that she’s your first in so many different ways. Even as she focuses on bringing you to your own peak, prioritizing your pleasure first, she lets you take your time exploring her pussy, suckling at her clit timidly in between lapping at her folds, even daring to go so far as to dip your tongue inside of her.

In the early hours of the morning, after she’s made you cum again and again, and after she’s given you your first in what she hopes will be many lessons in how to pleasure another woman, you both lay exhausted and sated as you face one another. You tiredly play with the ends of her long hair, a soft smile on your lips the entire time.

She can see a new sense of contentment in your eyes and she’s sure that she’s won you over.

“Run away with me and every night can be like this,” she murmurs, taking the hand toying with her strands and pressing a gentle, wet kiss to the tip of each finger. “I’ll look after you.”

The words are unexpectedly sincere, but as soon as they leave her lips, the wall that you’ve lowered over the past few days is suddenly back up at full height. Your gaze and expression are cold once more and you yank your hand from hers.

Without sparing her a second glance, you sit up and turn your back to her as you get out of bed, picking up your robe from the floor and sliding it back on, tying its belt with practiced movements. You then take the pair of gloves on your bedside table and walk to the window.

“You should leave. It’s inappropriate for you to be here,” you say and at that, Mei Mei can’t help but toss her head back and laugh wickedly.

“I think we crossed the line of what’s appropriate and what isn’t when you first came all over my fingers,” she counters with a smirk that goes unseen with your back to her. 

As you continue to silently stare out into the gardens, it’s clear to Mei Mei that teasing won’t get her anywhere. She gets out of bed and puts her own robe back on.

“Your uncle returns in four days and I’ll need to disappear not long after,” she tells you as she ties her robe closed and moves toward you. Her tone is matter-of-fact as she tries to make you see reason. “What will you do then? You have no means to access your fortune without a marriage, which you say you’ll never have, meaning your greedy uncle will continue to siphon off as much as he can as your guardian.”

She comes to a stop next to you by the window, joining you in looking out through the glass and it isn’t the first time she’s taken note of how your room directly overlooks the sakura tree where your aunt’s body was found hanging — where you found your aunt’s body hanging. She can only imagine what growing up with a constant reminder of such a morbid discovery outside of your window every day of your life has done to you.

“Will you spend the rest of your days as a caged bird in this estate with only an old man and the rats in his pocket for company?” she asks and you finally meet her gaze through the reflection in the window. 

“I have a plan,” you answer in an emotionless tone that she had almost forgotten over the last few days. 

When she gives you an expectant look, wanting more information on this supposed plan, you offer nothing else. You simply turn away from her and walk back to your bed, where you grab the long, tasseled cord hanging from the ceiling that will summon your handmaiden from the servant’s quarters and begin to tug on it impatiently.  

Mei Mei knows that it’s also her cue to disappear. The threat of being caught by a third party is the only thing that could get her out of your room at this point. 

“This is the only plan that can set you free,” she reminds you just before she takes her leave.  “Unless you plan to die here, having no one else on this earth. But what a shame that would be when you have someone offering you their hand.”

Later that morning as she makes her way to breakfast, she sees your handmaiden scurrying through the corridor and trying to stay out of her way. She doesn’t miss the red, finger-shaped marks on the woman’s wrist, which will bloom into deep bruises over the next days, or the fresh cut on her cheek. 

Mei Mei would pity her for finding herself the outlet of your ire if she didn’t already know that the handmaiden reports back on your every move to your uncle, even going so far as to search through your belongings when she thinks that she’s alone and blind to the con woman’s ever watchful eye. 

When Mei Mei suggests a walk through the gardens after lunch, you brush her off without a word. When she tries to visit your room that night, she finds the door locked.

The following day, the fifth day, she contemplates her next step as she drinks her tea alone. As she looks out the window at the pouring rain, she readies to resign herself to the fact that she may just have to consider this job a loss. A con artist needs to know when not to press their luck and she knows that without you on her side there’s not much that can be done. 

You just don’t seem to trust her or her intentions, seeing her seduction of you as nothing more than an attempt to manipulate you to get at your money. And while she concedes that manipulation is her forté, her aims have grown beyond making off with your fortune, to also needing to make off with you. However, she’s at a loss for how to make you believe that she doesn’t plan to betray you.  

She’s pulled from her thoughts when the door to the sitting room opens and she looks up to see you standing there silently in the doorway. You both look at one another and when Mei Mei sees the conflict raging in your eyes, she forgets all about calling off the job. 

“Would you like to go for a walk?” you softly ask and Mei Mei raises a delicate eyebrow before glancing out the window at the sheets of rain that are coming down, leaving huge puddles on the grounds. But when she looks back at you and sees the unfamiliar tinge of desperation that’s crept into your expression, she easily agrees. 

Despite being waterproofed, the bamboo and paper umbrella you sneak out does little to protect either of you from the strong winds that have the heavy rain falling at a slant and you’re soon both drenched from head to toe. 

But you keep going, your arm tightly wrapped around hers to tug her alongside you deeper into the gardens. She knows the path that you’re walking, it’s the one that leads to the small clearing in the trees. As you trudge through the muddy path, leading her further and further, she finds herself surprised by your determination in the face of the elements. 

Finally, once you’ve reached the clearing and seem to feel that you’ve put enough distance between yourselves and the house, you come to a stop and face her. Your shoulders are rising and falling rapidly from a mixture of exertion and what seems to be fear if the look in your eyes is anything to go by.

She doesn’t know what it is that could have you so terrified and it puts her on guard

The torrential rain is deafening and Mei Mei knows that you brought her here now because even if anyone was willing to brave the storm to follow you, they would never be able to hear you.

“Can I trust you?” you ask. It’s the first thing you’ve said since you both left the house and you have to raise your voice to be heard. The question is so blunt that it gives Mei Mei pause. “You make your living lying and cheating. You came here with a plot that ended in my disappearance and you in sole possession of my inheritance. Can I trust you?”

If anyone else were asking her that question, the answer would be a resounding no. If you were asking that question on the first day of her stay, it also would have been a no. 

But as she’s used her fingers and her mouth to soften your hardened exterior and bring out an entirely different woman than the one she first met, her idea of what a successful job looks like has changed. It’s no longer about stealing only your money – she also needs to steal you. 

Her answer comes in the form of a kiss so heated that it causes you to drop your useless umbrella into the puddle at your feet. She cradles your face in her hands as her lips move against yours hungrily, the rain pouring down on you both and washing away whatever remaining doubts you had.

When you break apart for air, she rests her forehead against yours and is taken aback when she sees how your eyes are brimming with tears, a few escaping to mix with the rain that’s drenching you.

“I have no one on this earth,” you plead helplessly, echoing her words from the other night, and she gives you a fierce look in return.

“You have me,” she swears, meaning every word with her black and crooked heart. 

And then, with her hands still cupping your cheeks, her touch giving you the courage you need, the truth begins to spill from your lips.

You tell her about your sadistic uncle, about the terror he unleashed as you were growing up, about his house of horrors. You tug the glove from your dominant hand and present it to her to show how his cruelty has been scarred across your knuckles in neat lines.

Mei Mei takes your hand in hers and presses a gentle kiss to each knuckle. Unbeknownst to her, each touch of her lips feels like the tender care such wounds should have received all those years ago but that your uncle refused to allow. 

As your fingers curl tightly in her hold, you tell her about how his cruelty has also left scars of a different kind on you all your life, about your aunt who tried to run away when you were young and she could no longer endure his torment, only to be caught, tortured, and killed. You tell her about the house’s dark basement where you were forced to watch as it all happened. 

You tell her about how her body was hung from the sakura tree under the guise of a suicide and that you’ve been promised the same fate should you follow in her footsteps.  

You confess how scared of him you are. You confess how disgusted by him you are. You confess that you think he’ll haunt you wherever you go, that even if you escaped with Mei Mei to the other side of the world, you would have to live your life looking over your shoulder for him, lest you find yourself in his basement once more.

Through your sobs, you reveal that he hopes to marry you so that he can keep you and your fortune under his thumb forever. Mei Mei’s sudden arrival is just another opportunity for him to grow his wealth before she becomes another loose end that needs to be cut.  

With every truth revealed, the white-hot rage in Mei Mei grows until she’s ready to return to the house and destroy every brick and wooden board with her bare hands until not even the foundations are left. She wants to raze the house and the entire estate to the ground.

She wants to inflict the same suffering on your uncle that he’s inflicted on you. She wants to inflict more suffering on him than he’s inflicted on you.  

But more than that, she wants to steal you away from the prison where you’ve spent your entire life. She wants to melt the ice trapping you and bring you out into the sunlight where you belong, far away from this house and the man inside of it that have both loomed so largely over you for your entire life like a dark cloud. 

She wraps her arms around you and pulls you close. You eagerly return her embrace, burying your face into her neck and holding onto her tightly like she’s the lifeline that fate tossed you to pull you free from the inky depths of your misery and your uncle’s depravity.

“Do you trust me?” she asks, her voice barely loud enough in your ear to be heard over the clap of thunder that rings out from the sky. 

There’s a long moment where you don’t do anything but hold her tighter. And then, very slowly, you nod. 

“Please save me, Mei,” you softly beg through your tears, and as the rain falls in curtains on the two of you, Mei Mei swears to you that she will. 

That night, Mei Mei worships you. She’s never been rough with you, even in the most heated of moments, but now she’s as soft as a woman like her knows how to be. She takes her time with every kiss, every stroke, every lick and suck. She makes sure to lavish every inch of your skin with attention, as if she’s trying to make up for the affection that’s been absent all through your life. 

You beg her for more, for her to move faster, but she won’t have it. When she looks up at you from between your legs with adoring eyes, she maintains the same, languid pace, her free hand holding your scarred one in hers against your hip, your fingers intertwined tightly together. 

And as you finally cum, the sound of her name leaving your lips in ecstasy and the feeling of your thighs clenched on either side of her head, the sudden gush of wetness that drips down her chin and soaks through the sheets to the mattress below is just an added bonus. 

Your form trembles beneath her as she leaves a trail of wet kisses up your body until she can meet your lips. You wipe your thumb over her chin, which is shiny and drenched with your arousal, but she simply catches it between her lips and sucks the taste of you clean, not wanting a drop to go to waste.

A soft giggle escapes you at the way she teases you and you press your smiling lips to hers, the fingers not tangled with hers running through her long, silky locks. 

Once you’ve both had your fill — not that Mei Mei truly thinks such a notion is possible where you’re concerned — you lay wrapped in each other’s arms, your sweaty curves pressed right up against hers, neither of you willing allow any space between. 

Mei Mei dreads looking at the clock, wanting nothing more than to let you fall asleep in her arms where she can keep watch over you and protect you from whatever monsters lie in wait, but knowing that doing so will have to wait until she’s freed you from your cage.

“I want to show you something,” you murmur with a timid look in your eyes. You then sit up on your knees and reach over to your bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling a black-bound book from within.  

She joins you in sitting up, her posture much more relaxed as she leans back against the headboard. You take a moment to look at the book’s blank cover before offering it up to her with two hands and your head bowed, and she raises a curious eyebrow when she recognizes it as your sketchbook. 

When she takes it from you, she beckons you to join her at her side, but you shake your head and remain kneeling before her. Even fully nude and on a bed of rumpled and dirtied sheets, you manage to look like the lady you were raised to be as you sit in a perfect seiza, your palms on your thighs and your head tilted down. 

She frowns at the apprehenshion she can see in your pin-straight posture. Whatever it is you’ve spent your days sketching is a secret that you’re afraid to reveal. When she opens the cover, she realizes why.

On the first page is a detailed sketch of a body hanging from a tree, the same sakura tree outside your window. She turns the page to find a similar drawing, only this one is much more focused on the expression of the woman hanging from the tree. 

She flips to the next page and it’s the same again with only a few minor differences. As she continues to make her way through the sketchbook, the body in the drawings begins to change, morphing from a woman she doesn’t recognize — your aunt — to one that she does, intimately. 

You. 

“Was this your plan?” she asks quietly, her voice thin as she flips to another page where more of the same waits for her. The idea of you seeing no other way out from under your uncle’s thumb and succumbing to your despair stokes the raging fire she feels for the man. 

When you don’t answer, she lifts her gaze to look at you. Your hands have clenched into anxious fists on your thighs and your shoulders are hunched up to your ears self-consciously. You take a shaky breath and nod before daring to look up at her.

The rawness in your expression reaches down to her core. Your eyes are wet and shining under the warm lamplight, but in them, she can also see a hint of hopefulness, a feeling she’s sure that you’ve never experienced before.

“Until a better one came along,” you whisper with a soft smile as a tear escapes your lashline and rolls down your cheek.

When Mei Mei looks back at the sketchbook, she finds that the rest of its pages are filled with portrait after portrait of herself. 

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Breaking Tradition {Qui-Gon Jinn x Reader}

approx. 1,000 words

Summary: Qui-Gon confesses his feelings for you and is reprimanded by the Jedi Council.

Warning: F! reader, brief mention of injury

While Princess Amidala of Naboo was in discussion with the Senate under the watchful eye of Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi, there was another woman on Qui-Gon’s mind. He had agreed to have you, a young new padawan, disguised as one of the princess’s hand maidens, and come along for the journey to learn from experience. 

You had secretly thought of Qui-Gon as more than just a mentor. Despite the little formal training you had, he saw a raw potential in you and was adamant you join the mission. This kind of attention made you feel confident in your abilities and bashful around your Jedi Master. 

Unbeknownst to you, Qui-Gon also harbored feelings for his new padawan, something he knew was frowned upon by the Jedi Council and could prove awkward if you found out and did not reciprocate those feelings. 

It was while training one day that you both expressed their feelings to each other. 

You were in a standard one-on-one battle sequence, opposite Obi-Wan, to practice using the force to lift your lightsaber that had fallen off in the distance back into your hand. All was going smoothly when Obi-Wan miscalculated the path of the lightsaber as it traveled to his hand and it collided straight into the front of your face. 

Instantly, shame washed over you, since you didn’t see the lightsaber coming. Secondly, you had fallen onto your derriere in the process, demonstrating to your Master your inability to remain balanced in a scenario of battle. And lastly, there was a sharp pain pulsing on the top of the bridge of your nose.

Needless to say, all you wanted to do was curl up in your room alone and forget any of this happened.   

While you were still in a haze and disoriented you could see a fuzzy outline of Qui-Gon coming your way and his echoed voice trying to coo you back into coherence while simultaneously yelling at Obi-Wan for his careless mistake. 

You could feel Qui-Gon gently patting the ends of his robe to your head and insisting you stay still while he cares for you. Even in the moment, while your head throbbed and you still felt the tinge of embarrassment on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but feel safe in Qui-Gon’s arms and accepted your state of being.

Later you awoke in the recovery bay of the training compound. A nurse was tending to you and you asked about the extent of your injuries. The nurse was surprised that you couldn’t remember the incident, since the trauma sustained caused a concussion that also broke the skin of your brow which needed stitches. 

You were shocked. No wonder Qui-Gon was so quick to help. 

As your thoughts wandered to Qui-Gon, you sensed his presence through the force and he appeared in the doorway.

You could tell he had just been crying by the redness of his eyes. He came right up to the side of your bed as the nurse left and held your hands in his. He knelt down and before you could even greet him with hello, he began to ramble on.  

“While you were unconscious I couldn’t bear the thought of going on without you. I found a new part of myself that I thought could have never existed as a Jedi. I have a love for you that cannot be hidden any longer. I have meditated on this and decided that telling you and not having the feelings reciprocated is better than living with this longing to love you in secret,” he said, as his soul bore into yours. 

In that moment you admired the independence and tenacity of your Jedi Master. His love for you grew to a size so great, he was willing to defy the Jedi Order and Council traditional views of love, seeing it as a weakness, a distraction to temp one to the dark side, instead of as the harmonious balance it strikes within Qui-Gon’s heart. 

You responded to his expression of love with one of your own. You brought his hands up to rest on your chest and closed your eyes. With the strength you still possessed after the injury, you channeled your energy into the force. He found peace in your heart beat’s rhythm and closed his eyes too. 

From that moment on you both became totally devoted to your love of the ways of the force, as well as for each other. You began meeting in secret, after training sessions to steal kisses in the botanical gardens or exchange lovey-dovey poetry. 

It was months later when you were discovered. Darth Maul had been lurking around with the intent to find Princess Amidala, but instead stumbled upon the sight of two Jedi’s deep in an intimate kiss and a compromising embrace.

Darth Maul relayed this newfound information to his Sith Master, Senator Palpatine, who immediately told Yoda and the remaining members of the Jedi Council, in hopes of penalizing Qui-Gon and diverting attention away from the Princess. 

When Qui-Gon was questioned about his relations with you he did not deny it. He stood defiant and unwavering on his ground. He urged the Council to see that his bond with you had only improved his skills and connection to the force, as well as your own. Their insinuation that you were a hindrance to his work or an obstacle made him question their faith in the ways of the force. 

“It was the force that brought us together, Master Yoda,” Qui-Gon said. “If it had not wanted us to meet, we would not have both been gifted with the great sacrifice that it is to be a Jedi Knight.”

“A good point, you make,” said Yoda. “But, face punishments you will. Hmmm. There is need for structure, yes. Have patience and all will be revealed.”

So the decision was made. Qui-Gon would stay on Naboo to finish his journey with Princess Amidala, and you would be sent to Tatooine for a Jedi rehabilitation program, to restore your adherences to the Jedi Codes of conduct, regardless of personal feelings. 

Before you and Qui-Gon were escorted your separate ways, you whispered words of reassurance and encouragement to him, promising your love would endure this trial of separation. 

“We will communicate through force and meditation. We will prove to the council we are not defective Jedi warriors. Like Yoda said, in time, all will be revealed. We have to stay strong together,” you said as you placed your forehead against Qui-Gon’s. 

[spirit-lanterns]

If ruan mei was in ur celebrity au what would she work as?

Also side note i love your work!

Awww, thank you! I’ve answered this kind of ask before, but Ruan Mei is essentially an idol who acts on the side. She’s a popular singer, yet I headcanon her to be an actress known for her roles in historical dramas or romance series. Very unlike Ruan Mei I know, but because she’s so beautiful, fans go crazy whenever she plays a female lead in any kind of drama 💕

[sttoru]

Might I choose violence and suggest sukuna killing off one of readers favorite handmaidens by accident and it just completely destroys her and she’s just icked by him

WOWEWWWWWWWW 😟😟😟 this is so evil….. but yes omg this is such a good idea nglll —

[aurora-starwars]

I would just like to share with you all today that it is canon the Padmé Amidala has bad period pains

[weixuldo]

Will You Stay// ch 2

Bi!Padme x F!Reader

(a/n: finally updating this one haha, im still deeply in love w padme, but most of the demand is for the ani stories 👀)

your arrival on Coruscant brings new faces, old memories, and familiar danger

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, cursing

______________________

Years later, you and Padme became inseparable, you loved her and she loved you.

She grew to be a beautiful woman, her brown hair growing longer and her features sharpening; though, her beauty marks remained.

You were to accompany Padme to a meeting with the Jedi Council on Coruscant. You saw that she was rather excited to be in the governmental capital once more. You loved how passionate she was for democracy and freedom.

On the way, she told you the Jedi who helped her when she was stranded on Tatooine all those years ago would be there. You could tell she was looking forward to meeting him again.

Her memories of the jedi, Qui-Gon and his apprentice Obi-Wan were much more exhilarating than your memories of that time.

During that period, you had been sent to the planet Aalderan as a decoy for the Queen, that was one of the few times you had ever been separated from her. 

The elevator ride up was silent but she made sure to squeeze one of your hands for comfort.

________________________________

Two men dressed in classic jedi robes came sauntering towards where you and Padme were waiting. One had longer orange-ish hair, a beard, and kind eyes, that must be Obi-wan. The other stood a bit taller and sported a shorter cut with a padawan braid tailing from the back. He looked a little younger than the latter and his eyes were filled with ambition. 

You noticed something you didn’t particularly appreciate about the younger jedi… his wandering gaze as he looked upon Padme.

He appeared enchanted, ravenous, and held a sense of longing, almost as if he was in love. 

As you examined the man further you had to admit, he was handsome.

His shoulders were broad and his jawline sharp. His deep blue eyes, a sea of emotion. You hated to admit it, but he had a beautiful face; the prettiest you had seen on a man.

As much as you hated how he looked at your lover, you hated the look on her face even more. You had seen that face before… the face of a woman who was intrigued.

Fuck. 

After introductions you followed behind her into the lounge room, “I have a bad feeling about that one” you whispered into her ear.

You hoped it was just jealousy, but there was something a little off with that jedi.

Soon after the initial formalities, Padme and you finally retired to her suite. You proceeded with the normal duties of a handmaiden; undoing her dress, helping her take off her headdress, wiping the makeup off her face, all the while staying noticeably silent.

Her soft brown locks fell around her beautiful face as you undid her hair.

“Something’s troubling you, what is it my darling?” her sweet voice called as she rested a polished hand against your blushing cheek. 

Her warm brown eyes calms your nerves and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. 

“I’m sorry m’lady, I’m just a little wary of the jedi men… there was something…off about the younger one.” you said, taking her hands in yours.

“Little ani?” she asked before letting out a small giggle. “He is harmless, I assure you he only means the best”. 

Not quite comforting for you…

She sighed as she noticed your rigid form, she placed a gentle hand on the side of your face and pulled you in for a kiss. 

“Y/N… It will be ok” she whispered against your lips. 

Though you may not have been completely at ease, her comforting aura calms your nerves. 

“Ok, Padme” 

___________________________________

Night fell upon the city of Coruscant and the bright neon lights of the bustling city lit up the streets. Outside the windows of the high rise speeders of all colors and sizes zoomed around the designated lanes below. Padme had returned to her room for the night, she had a busy schedule this week after all. 

You were alerted of the guards posted all around the building to hopefully capture the assassin that was rumored to be after Padme. You didn’t have total faith in the guards, but you let them carry on with their jobs. 

You wandered the halls of the penthouse for a final check of your own, before you would retire back to your lady.

You walked past the large room everyone had gathered in earlier that day, the young jedi and his master stood in the middle of the dark room. 

“I don’t like just waiting for something to happen” you heard “ani” say. 

Muffled voices spoke more until you heard the young one’s voice again.

“I don’t think she likes me watching her,” he said, referring to the surveillance cameras in her room.

“Nor do I” you interjected, emerging through the shadows. 

The two men shifted their gaze to you, you were no longer in your usual handmaiden garb, instead you sported a nightgown similar to Padme’s, just less decorative.

You felt the energy in the room shift.

“Excuse the intrusion, but I don’t think we ever officially introduced ourselves, I am Y/N, Senator Amidala’s personal handmaiden” you bowed to the men in front of you.

The younger one stared intently at you, you wondered if he could sense your distaste for him. You met his icy stare before turning to the bearded man. 

“My apologies, madame. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is my padawan, Anakin Skywalker. We are honored to serve your lady and provide as much security as necessary”

“It is nice to make your acquaintance, I appreciate your dedication to M’lady, but I do agree, I do not think she appreciated fairing under your watchful gaze” you narrowed your eyes at the younger man who was still staring at you.

He blinked a few times before straightening his posture, “Well, It’s not like I really needed to see anything, I can sense everything going on in that room” he said arrogantly with an annoying smile. 

“Are you so sure?” 

“Oh, I am very sure.” Anakin smirked. 

“What is M’lady feeling right now then?” you inquired deviously.

“That is classified information” he responded, looking too proud of himself.

“I can sense something too” you perked up

“And what would that be?”

“Well…I don't exactly have to be a Jedi to sense your strong feelings for her”. 

He jerked his head back and his master looked over at him with wide eyes. You knew Obi-Wan already had an idea, because you overheard their conversation to Jar Jar after the initial meeting today. But neither of them expected to hear you say that out loud.

“I thought part of your code was not to form attachments, seems to me you should work on that instead of trying to sense Padme’s every feeling” you said making your exit to check up on the guards downstairs. 

You knew it was a little too informal to refer to her as “Padme”, that was not a handmaid's place; actually, no one was supposed to know that you and her had such a relationship, it was forbidden.

But your protectiveness over her flared when the padawan began speaking of her as if he knew her like you did.

He really had the audacity to insinuate he could feel her through his “force”, for makers sake, he was a fucking padawan!

You walked off the thoughts as you went downstairs to check on the post in the lobby. Though soon, you heard the sound of a saber igniting. You ran back up to Padme’s room and prayed that the saber was not giving a blow to her. 

You turned the corner to see Anakin on top of her with his saber and Obi-Wan crashing through the window to chase a droid. 

“Padme!” you exclaimed as you hurried to her side. 

Before you reached her you exchanged a dirty look with Anakin, “So much for sensing everything” you spat. And he narrowed his eyes before running out to chase his master and the assassin.

If his “sense” was as strong as he boasted, he would have known there was a droid ready to deliver danger to Padme, before it even touched the window. 

Padme had barely woken and was utterly confused. Her eyes were wide and her heart was racing; everything in your body told you to hold her, but there were too many people around. Instead, you took one of her polished hands and looked into her eyes, “M’Lady”.

“Senator, Are you alright?” someone spoke.

“Yes, I’ll be just fine. I just need to collect my thoughts. May I have a moment alone” she said, trying to get everyone to leave the room.

“I’m afraid we cannot allow you to be alone without protection” 

“Y/N will stay with me, she is my handmaiden after all and each of my maidens are trained in defensive combat” she argued.

The officials in the room decided it best to keep the senator happy, and they all heard the stories of Senator Amidala's faithful handmaidens. Once they showed her to a fresh room and left, you pressed the sliding door closed and met her on the bed. 

“Padme, my love, are you alright?” you held her head to your chest and kissed the top of her head. 

Her heart was beating relatively quickly but it was starting to slow, “Yes, my dear, I am alright. Not like we haven't all had a failed assassination or two” she quipped. 

Even in these times she reminded you how brave she was, she was barely phased at the fact that she could have died. You let out a small laugh before hugging her to your chest.

“I was just so worried… when I saw him on top of you with his lightsaber… I just didn’t know..” 

Her face softened, she knew how protective you were of her, “oh, y/n, It’s alright, I’m alright” she smiled pulling you into a loving kiss. Her beautiful brown locks tickled your cheeks as you smiled into her. 

“Shall we go to sleep? Or would you like to stay up” you asked.

“Let’s rest, we have a big day tomorrow and maker knows they are going to make a big deal of tonight” she sighed, pulling the covers of the new bed back. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Let me enjoy sleeping with you in this beautiful city for one night”  she said, beckoning for you to join her.

And of course, you couldn’t resist your Lady. 

***

A/N: i wanna thank you guys again for being so patient w me!! life has been craaazy

Taglist: @xxx-pearl @calamitousvader @wtf-andys @raccoonsaregay @jar-of-moondust

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare part.2

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Description: Having realised that he's fallen in love with his handmaiden, Aemond tries to sway her heart to him despite her shy and introverted disposition. But he quickly finds that her heart is not easily won. Can the Prince succeed in winning his Lady with an unlikely combination of books, Vhagar, and advice from his sister Helaena.

Part 1 Part 3

Writer's note: thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed part 1. Hoping this doesn't stray too far from the direction you want it to go in. I have another part planned but would also welcome suggestions :)

Warnings: female reader, dual-pov narrative, slow-burn, mention of Granny Vhagar (she deserves her own trigger warning), lots of angst and lots of fluff too, pining, potentially ooc Aemond (although our Lord and saviour Ewan Mitchell agrees he's really just a Teddy Bear). Lengthy as always because if there's one thing I can't do it's get to the point.

Y/N huffed in frustration as she tried to replicate the braided hairstyle Helaena's handmaiden had shown her to little success. She tended to wear her hair in the same practical style each day, not having much skill in this regard. But her newfound intimacy with the Princess had led her to a friendship with her maid, who had a particular skill for elaborate hairstyles. Realising she would be late to her morning duties should she restart, she tied off the braid and set off for Prince Aemond's chambers. In truth, she now preferred to arrive at the Prince's chambers early so she could greet him for the day before he headed off to the training yard and she wouldn't see him again until that evening.

They had come to form what Y/N supposed could be considered a friendship, if any such relationship could exist between a servant and a Prince. Though she could not help her natural timidity, which prevented her from ever feeling truly comfortable in his presence and often prone to stuttering over her words. Prince Aemond seemed more than willing to accommodate this facet of her personality. He always listened to her so attentively, never interrupting her when she stumbled over her words as others often did in frustration.

With the gentle encouragement of Prince Aemond and his sister the Princess Helaena, Y/N had slowly begun to come more and more out of her shell. She recalled only a few nights ago how the Prince had made her laugh so carelessly, completely forgetting her introverted tendencies. He had been kind enough to lend her books from his private collection as she became more comfortable with reading under Helaena's guidance, and he had explicitly told her to select any that should interest her. As she was dusting the upper shelves in his chambers one evening she'd reached for an ornate tome of red leather that she could now tell concerned dragons. Y/N had always been fascinated with the creatures, thinking them godlike and otherworldly and was eager to learn more about them now that this was possible. It took a few attempts of her reaching as far as she could on tiptoe for her fingertips to even graze the spine of the book, it being on the top shelf and Y/N eventually resorted to jumping for it to no avail. Giving up with a huff to blow the hair that had escaped from her braid out of her face, she startled to see a hand reach for the book she'd wanted.

It had amused Aemond no small amount to see his handmaiden's ill fated attempts to reach the book she wanted from his shelves but he'd quickly stepped towards her as she'd made a jump for it, not wishing her to do anything which might cause her injury. He felt a satisfying sense of pride at being able to be of assistance to her, extending his own arm for the red book which he easily reached with his tall stature. It gratified him to feel she might have need of him and that he could be someone she looked to. Handing it out to her, he smiled encouragingly as he saw what volume had taken her interest this time. "So it is dragons you wish to read of? Have they long held your interest Y/N?" Taking the book from him, Y/N's eyes lit with a spark of uncontained excitement Aemond had rarely seen in his handmaiden. "I have since I was a young girl, they are such magnificent creatures. So beautiful and yet so powerful."

Humming in agreement at her assessment, Aemond's smile only grew as he leaned his head closer to her. "Would you like to meet one? I should be glad to introduce you to mine own, Vhagar." Y/N's face paled slightly at his suggestion. "I think I would be terrified if I were to actually meet a dragon in the flesh, My Prince. But I thank you for your most generous offer." Aemond feigned a pensive look for a moment. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Y/N the fierce dragon rider has a certain ring to it? Does it not?" Aemond's heart swelled at the sweet sound of her laughter, the laughter he had provoked from his shy girl. And yet, he wished her to know that she would never have been in any danger had she taken him up on his offer, Vhagar would heed his commands and surely sense the importance this girl held for her rider. Looking at her earnestly as her laughter quietened, he spoke in a tone he hoped would convey the truth of his words. "You would always be safe with me, Y/N."

Y/N felt her heart flutter at the memory of Prince Aemond's words and as she passed along the halls of the Red Keep she briefly wondered what the Prince might think of her new hairstyle. She almost scoffed at herself for the ridiculousness of the thought, unsure of where it had even come from. As if the Prince should ever think of her hair, or indeed think of her at all when she was gone from his sight. Y/N looked down to ensure she did not trip in her haste as she neared the Prince's chambers. Just as she rounded the corner to his chambers she collided with a hard figure, letting out a yelp and closing her eyes tightly as she braced for a fall. Arms quickly wrapped around her to stop her momentum, one encircling her waist, the other wrapping around her shoulders. Y/N opened her eyes to find it was the Prince Aemond himself holding her and she smiled sheepishly up at him in embarrassment at the situation they found themselves in.

"I apologise My Prince, I was not looking where I was going." Quirking his lip up at her, Aemond pulled Y/N back up but maintained a gentle hold on her elbows to steady her. "I am only glad I was here to catch you little one." Y/N blushed at that and turned away from him slightly to hide it. A second later the Prince had let go of her entirely, taking a step back.

"I will see you later, Y/N."

Y/N tried to look anywhere but at Prince Aemond's eyes as she nodded.

"Yes, My Prince. I wish you a good day."

The Prince wasted no time in turning on his heels to stalk away from her and she could not help but feel that perhaps she had made him angry.

Aemond had waited in his chambers longer than was usual that morning, hoping to catch even a brief glimpse of his pretty handmaiden before he left to spend the day training with Ser Criston. He'd noticed she had begun to arrive earlier at his chambers and he felt hope surge in him that perhaps she sought him out, that she might enjoy their conversations as he did. When she did not show and he could tarry no longer he let out a growl of frustration and practically stormed from his room. Coming round a corner at such a great speed Aemond's eyes widened in alarm as he smacked straight into the very girl who consumed his thoughts. Quickly wrapping his arms around her so she would not fall, he frantically ran his eyes down her form to reassure himself he had not hurt her.

Aemond was momentarily stunned as Y/N opened her eyes and graced him with a sweet smile that had him tightening his hold on her, relishing the feeling of holding her in his arms. He scoffed inwardly at her apology, he had been only too happy to catch her, and had hoped to amuse her with his playful response. But as her cheeks reddened to a deep scarlet and she turned her face away from him, he relented. He pulled her to stand upright, though he could not help maintaining a light hold on her elbows in case she should stumble. Aemond did so love to see her blush, having convinced himself it must mean he had some power to affect her as she did him. But he did not wish to embarass her and cause her to put any more distance between them. He felt keenly that there was a wide enough chasm already.

The Prince tried to keep his tone even and remove any hint of the frustration he felt. He had begun to fear the worst, that Y/N would never feel truly comfortable with him, and if that were the case how could she ever learn to love him? Was he truly so displeasing to her, so terrifying? Anger coursed through his veins at the blow he had been dealt by the Seven in losing his eye, a disfigurement which he feared would also cost him the love of the woman before him, which he had come to covet above all else. Not wishing to show his already timid handmaiden his anger, he took his leave quickly.

Y/N gnawed on her bottom lip in her anxiety. She'd been stewing the entire day over her brief meeting with Prince Aemond that morning and inwardly cursing herself for her reaction to his simply helping her. It had clearly angered him, though she knew not why. She found herself wishing she were not so timid, that she could meet his gaze more easily, not stutter so much when she spoke to him. But the Seven had made her so and she could not see her natural disposition disappearing anytime soon. Nevertheless, she endeavoured to present a more welcoming figure when he returned to his chambers that evening and mend any infraction she had inadvertently caused.

As Prince Aemond reentered his chambers for the evening, Y/N turned to greet him with a warm smile lighting her face. "Good evening, My Prince. I trust you had a pleasant day." Y/N often greeted him as such, and the Prince would always readily respond with details of his training with the knight Ser Criston. She had hoped that falling into their normal routine would smooth over any irritation he might still feel towards her, but the smile fell from her face as he only continued to stand in the doorway staring at her. They passed a few moments in silence before Aemond spoke, so softly she had to strain to hear him. "You've changed your hair." That had been the last thing she'd expected him to say to her and she felt her heartbeat increase at the fact that he had noticed.

"The Princess Helaena had her maid show me some braiding techniques when I expressed an interest. She is kind to me."

"It is lovely." At Prince Aemond's words Y/N felt her cheeks burn and butterflies erupt in her stomach. But she forced herself not to shy away from his complement, lest she offend him as she had that morning.

"Thank you, My Prince. I am glad you should think so." Aemond's already handsome features lit up in a genuine smile, seemingly content at her accepting his compliment.

"You are always lovely."

Y/N's mouth parted slightly in surprise. Complimenting a change in hairstyle was one thing, calling her lovely another entirely. She could not understand his motivation for such a compliment, and felt immediately suspicious of it, despite the wild beating of her treacherous heart. She was just a servant girl, and could not possibly hope to have any claim to the heart of a Prince, so what did he mean by calling her lovely? Not knowing how to respond for the best,  Y/N bystepped his words altogether and cleared her throat awkwardly. "I had the wine you requested brought up, it is on the console, and the books you requested brought from the library are on your desk. Will there be anything else this evening, My Prince?"

Y/N watched with regret as the Prince visibly stiffened at her cold tone, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. "That will be all, Y/N."

"My Prince", with a deferential curtsy she strode past Prince Aemond. Y/N quickly grew ashamed of her suspicion in him and her subsequent rudeness as she saw him cast his head down and shift to let her pass.

"I cannot sway her heart to me, Sister. Everytime I believe I have made progress, it is quickly followed by another mistake on my part which only seems to push her farther away from me." Aemond had sought his sister's advice, following his disastrous attempt at complimenting Y/N. He feared he had only made her uncomfortable given her cold reaction. He felt pained at the possibility it was him she found so objectionable, as opposed to an ill advised compliment.

Helaena looked thoughtful as she considered her brother's words. "What have you attempted so far to win her affections, brother?"

Aemond reccounted everything he had tried to do to make Y/N more comfortable around him. He'd hoped to build a friendship with her at first as a conduit for expressing his true romantic affections for her at a time when she would be more amenable to this.

He watched as Helaena pondered for an agonisingly long time on the correct response. But as a woman he expected she would be able to find a solution more ably than he could. "I think you should find a way to spend more time with her. You say it is normally only in the mornings and the evenings that you are together for a very brief time. Perhaps with more time spent in your company she will grow accustomed to your attentions and develop her own affections for you in turn." Aemond thought Helaena's suggestion wise and one he should have considered earlier. All this time he had been so concerned with ensuring he did not overstep any lines with Y/N, so very aware of her shy disposition, that he had not tried to orchestrate any more interactions than those she was already used to. But perhaps he needed to try a more direct approach to win his handmaiden over to him. He quickly developed a plan Helaena would have rejected out of hand had he voiced it.

For the second time that day, Y/N was frantically preparing tea in the kitchens, nestled in the lower levels of the Red Keep. Careless in her haste, she accidentally tipped some of the hot water she'd been pouring onto her hand. Letting out a string of curses, she quickly applied some cold water until she could no longer feel the sting so keenly, then hurried to set the already cooling tea on a tray, aware of the distance between the kitchens and the royal chambers where she needed to be. Prince Aemond had started to ask for tea to be brought to him twice a day about a week ago, having never expressed any inclination for it before. It did create some challenges for Y/N in trying to ensure the Prince's tea was delivered to him hot, all the while having to cross such a great distance in the Keep to do so.

And yet he always asked her to sit with him as he drank his tea, asking her various questions about herself, her childhood, her likes and dislikes. His line of questioning was often quite strange to Y/N, asking her what colours she liked best, whether she preferred the colder or warmer months, what flowers were her favourite. She had not thought any of these things about her should interest a Targaryen Prince. But she could not find it in herself to be irritated with his regular requests for tea, as she had come to look forward to these moments with Aemond. She did not know when she'd begun to think of him so informally, as Aemond rather than the Prince. It seemed to occur naturally over time as their tentative friendship grew and she spent more time in his presence. If Y/N was being completely honest with herself she'd even begun to harbour somewhat romantic feelings for the Prince. Blushing every time he met her gaze or their fingers grazed as she handed him his tea, she was sure he'd find her ridiculous if he should ever find out.

Rushing into his chambers, aware she'd taken much longer to deal with her burn, she began setting the tea before Aemond, stiffening as she heard him speak behind her.

"What is this?" His eyes had fallen on her injured hand and he spoke tensly...dangerously. "Did someone hurt you?"

Y/N quickly moved to dispell this theory as she noted how his hand clenched and jaw tightened. "No, My Prince. It is only a small burn. I was not careful enough when handling the tea this afternoon in my haste to make sure it arrived still warm." At her answer a look of pain seemed to cross the Prince's face as he stood, gently taking her hand in his to assess her injury. She realised she did not like to see him so distressed over her. "It is only a little thing. It will heal."

Gazing down at her, his own good eye boring into her own, a penitent look fell over his features. "I do not much like tea. You do not need to bring it to me any longer. I would not have you hurt yourself again on my account."

Y/N was confused for a mere moment before anger took its place. She had thought it strange when he'd begun to ask for tea so regularly, having never expressed an inclination for it before. And here she'd been running about the Keep several times a day, trying and even burning herself in the attempt to fulfill his request when the kitchens were so far from his chambers on the upper levels of the Keep. Only to find he did not even enjoy the tea. Why would he do such a thing? She roughly ripped her hand from his hold, stepping back from him even as he began to follow her. "Were you laughing at me? Was it a mere jest to watch me run about the Keep all day for no reason?" She did not know where she'd found her courage, or perhaps the audacity to address the Prince in such a manner.

He looked positively alarmed now at the fierceness of her glare, having never inspired it before.

"No, of course not."

"Then why?"

"I only wished to spend more time with you"

The unexpectedness of his answer halted Y/N where she stood, allowing Aemond to close the distance between them until they stood nearly chest to chest.

"With me. But why?"

Aemond moved slowly as if she could bolt at any second, perhaps giving her the chance to pull away from him again if she wished. Recapturing her hand in his, he raised it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on the palm of her hand where the burn was. Pulling away, he held her hand against his heart and Y/N couldn't fail to take his meaning even though he didn't say the words directly. He must have an affection for her, perhaps not so strong as that which she held for him, but still there. In this knowledge, she supposed his actions though misguided could be considered sweet. She found herself at a loss for words, her mind swimming with the possibilities of what this could mean, and the inherent dangers of having feelings for a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms as a lowly servant girl.

In the moment she felt unable to decide whether she wanted Aemond to reciprocate her feelings or not, and whether she was comfortable with his advances. He'd seemed to sense her indecision as he gazed down at her face. Releasing her hand and lowering it back to her side, he stepped back from her until he was leaning against a side table. He was always so respectful of her, attentively watching for any signs of her discomfort and responding in kind. She was torn, wanting to reach for him again but knowing within her heart that nothing good could come of their feelings for one another. Better to repress them now rather than let them continue to grow and inevitably lead to dissapointment when he married a courtly Lady or Dornish Princess.

"Good night Y/N."

Y/N's eyes snapped up to meet Aemond's, expecting to find irritation or perhaps disspointment with her confused state. She was startled to find only steely determination in his eyes. "Good Night, My Prince." Willing herself not to turn around and look at him, in case she did something truly reckless, she headed straight for the servant's quarters.

Aemond felt more sure of himself than he ever had that he could win Y/N's love. He felt certain she already harboured an affection for him, she was only indecisive on whether to act on it, perhaps unsure of his intentions. This was understandable and he would seek to remedy it, for he had seen how her eyes had softened as he'd kissed her hand, how she had subconsciously curled her hand around his tunic once he'd placed it against his heart, as if to pull him closer to her. But watching her inner turmoil play out in her expressions and in her silence, he resolved to be patient, stepping back from her to allow her space to think. He loved her and was now convinced she at least held some feelings for him, in the end it did not matter how long it took to convince her of the fact.

@sapphiresandferrari

@pinkykats-place

@superintenseart

@callsigncrushx

@idonotknowenglish

@lportes-22

@misspinkonmars

[ghostsgrl666]

pt.3 ghost x handmaiden!reader during the manor's summer solstice festival, both two drinks past tipsy and unafraid to sit next to each other at one of the tables, surrounded by the music and the dancing of the villagers. At first just pinkies touching as your palms lay flat on the wood, but by the end of the night you're fully in ghost's lap, whispering in his ear until he's had enough of your squirming and warm breath in the evening's breeze. He's about to carry you off to his quarters when

some other servant girls pull you away, quickly adorning you in a golden poppy crown and a garland of braided wildflowers before pulling you to the center of the field to dance. He watches you perform the well worn steps with the other women, summoning a good omen for the upcoming harvest and thanking god for the longest day of the year, your eyes sparkling as they crinkle with joy. Soon the music slows to something low that vibrates through ghost as you approach him, dragging him up to dance with all of the other couples, this time pulled close together and moving in one current around the field as the air thickens with the implications of the dance's origins. An ancient fertility ritual, the perfect excuse as he practically kneads into your hips, working his grip down to your ass. You keep one hand firm on his chest in a pathetic attempt to reach his shoulder while the other is on his jaw, tracing the strong lines that surround such a soft mouth. Eventually the heat of your heavy breaths against each other melts into kissing as your bodies inch impossibly closer together between leather and linen. You can feel him hard against your stomach, and he actually almost cries when you finally reach down to faint traace the outline of it. You run together in the encroaching darkness, recklessly flying downhill to the castle, laughing with your hands entwined until you crash throuhg the door of his quarters. Half of you lands on the bed so he manhandles you all the way up to the pillows, big hands desperately searching under your skirts. When he finds your dripping heat you gasp, blood pounding as he finally reveals that devilish smirk. He quickly licks his fingers clean before succumbing to your pleas, thrusting into with one harsh motion that splits you open. He has to wrap his lips around your tongue to quiet the sounds you make, but eventually he gives in as his heavy grunts turn into panting moans. Before you can even register, one sharp push into the deepest part of you sends you burning over the edge. He fucks you through the eternity of it and then some, shushing you teasingly when it becomes too much. After countless waves of ecstasy you can feel his bulky arms start to shake, so you tell him you love him and he immediately comes, spurting hot into you as he grits curses in your ear. "Fuck, love," is the only thing you can make out as he rolls off of you and mumbles into your shoulder. Breathing hard, he finds your hand beside his and squeezes it without looking up at you, but you know what it means.

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden

Imagine being Queen Cersei's favorite handmaiden Pt.2

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

(Cersei x fem reader, slight Sandor x fem reader if you like it like that. I've decided this is going to be a series that will go into smutty territory eventually, but it'll definitely be a slow burn)

The ride north was an unforgiving one. Being lowborn, you had only admired horses from afar before being expected to ride in the Queen's entourage. Side saddle riding protected your modesty and spared your thighs the chafing that the Male riders suffered, but your lower back and shoulders ached all the same.

The queen rode in a lavish carriage with her three children, guarded closely on either side by Ser Jaime and Sandor Clegane.

Due to your inexperience riding and your new found favor with her grace, you were instructed to ride along side The Hound, who was under orders to keep any eye on you and intervene if the mare beneath you proved too rowdy.

It was clear that The Hound resented this duty, already having to keep an eye on the young Prince Joffery, who alternated between riding in the carriage and mounting his own steed. A bright white and rowdy gelding that was the torment of the other horses in the party. It nipped and whinied, trotting circles around the group in a foppish, showy manner.

The Hound, on the other hand, mounted a broad bodied horse that was black as midnight with a coal grey mane named Stranger.

As the prince took another lap, the white gelding nipped at the hindquarters of your mare for what must have been the fifth or sixth time that day. The mare, tired and frustrated with this harassment, finally decided to voice her displeasure by baying loudly and bouncing her back legs enough to bounce you around.

"No, no Girl. Whoa, stop stop stop" you squealed, pulling at the reins with as much force as you dared but the horse was too fed up to mind.

"Stop! Stop the carriage" a firm and regal voice put a halt to the party as Clegane snatched the reigns from your grasp and managed to settle the mare back into submission.

"Mother's Mercy!" A gruff voice growled, accompanied by the heavy trot of hooves. King Robert's face was red as a cherry from drink and frustration as he glared at the queen. "If you keep holding us up, Winterfell will be snowed in before we even get there!"

"I apologize, Your Grace" You bowed your head, face flushed with embarrassment. "It was my fault, I failed to control my mount. My deepest apologies."

Robert's eyes rolled nearly back to his skull with a begrudging sigh before flinging a finger at Clegane.

"You, Hound, let the girl ride with you and have that beast tethered to a wagon"

He tossed a glare back at the queen, a look which said 'you just had to bring her, didn't you?' Before returning to his place in the party.

"I'm sorry" you nearly whispered, tailing the gargantuan man as he tether the horse in brooding silence.

Heading back to Stranger, you nearly cried out as Clegane snatched the softness of your arm and all but dragged you up onto the horse in front of him. His grip was bruising and you had to force yourself not to rub the part where he snatched you like a hawk snatches a rabbit.

"Not one word" he growled "or I'll toss you from this horse and let you walk to Winterfell."

You rode until dusk, and your body didn't relax until you were safely once again on solid ground.

Once again, The Hound dismounted first before he gripped you by the waist, hard fingers pressing into the soft flesh under your riding clothes, and all but dragged you off the horse where you landed with a wobble of your knees.

"Y/N, To me" your mistress called and you rushed to her side immediately.

"Yes, Your Grace" your curtsey suffered from the weakness in your legs, but the Queen hardly seemed to notice.

"You had us worried there" She looked down at you with unreadable eyes, "You'll have to improve your riding if you wish to keep up"

"I will, Your Grace. Thank you"

"Take my things inside" she motioned vaguely to the inn at which you had stopped for the night. "Just follow King Robert's squire, he'll show you. Then come back for the children's things"

"Immediately, Your Grace"

The work was arduous, and by the time you finished it was past dark. The inn provided food and housing for the higher members of the entourage, but at The Queen's insistence you were to sleep at the foot of her bed as you did in The Red Keep.

Robert was apathetic to this. Ser Jaime, to your surprise, seemed genuinely disappointed by this and approached the queen when they thought they had a moment in private, not knowing you were settling the queen in as they spoke

"Don't worry" Cersei assured him "I'll just send her out"

-----------

After dinner, you tended to your queen with great care. Standing behind her as she sat on the edge of the plush feather bed, you gently pulled a comb through her golden locks, picking out any snags with extreme tenderness.

"Y/N, tonight my brother will be coming by to discuss some family matters and I want you out of the way."

"Of course, your grace." You complied, satisfied with this explanation. Of course she wouldn't want you around when they discussed Lannister matters.

"And..." She turned slightly, looking up at you through her lashes in a way that made your breath catch in your chest. "Be a good girl, and don't mention this to anyone. It's my business, and I expect you to keep it that way"

"Not a word, Your Grace" Your face began to flush as her long, slender hand grasped your small, common one.

"Not even to The King"

"The King?" You paused, confused why the king would inquire about such a thing in the first place. "Yes, your grace. Not even to the King. I swear it"

Cersei's face softened at this and, to your great shock, raised your hand to her face and allowed it to stroke her cheek gently.

"What would I do without you?" She breathed before letting your hand drop back to your side and turning back around so you could finish combing out her hair.

You carried the high of her touch through the evening and even when she sent you away. You curtisied to Jaime primly before slipping outside back to the wagons.

Aimless, you went to the stables where the horses had been bedded down for the night, glancing into each stall curiously until you found the mare you had ridden earlier.

Her tawny coat had been brushed and her white snout was buried in a pail of oats.

"Hello" you greeted her in a small voice. "I'm sorry about before, it wasn't your fault"

The horse snorted at you in an apathetic manner, flicking the flies off with her tail.

"Don't talk to horses" a gruff voice scolded you from down the stable hall.

You jumped, having believed you were alone, before craning you head to see who spoke.

"Why not?" You eyed The Hound with flushed cheeks, embarrassed to have been caught.

"Because it makes you look mad" he grumbled. "No one wants a mad handmaid"

"Well" you sputtered as he approached you from Stranger's stall, "It wasnt her fault. It was that gelding that kept biting her"

"It wasn't her fault, you're right" he stopped, towering over you like a shadow. "It was your fault"

"What?"

"That mare is the most patient thing in this barn, trained to handle children and unskilled little fools like you." He leaned against the wood of the stall with his arms crossed firmly. "If you'd just kept your calm like any person with half a brain would, she would have listened to you"

"I do so have a brain" You raged. Where did he get off being so disrespectful when all you'd been was polite?

"Doubt it" The hound scoffed "The queen does all your thinking for you, she's got your brain tucked away in all those trunks somewhere."

"Why I-" you gasped "All I have ever done is my very best for Her Grace's comfort and happiness. If My Lady has any issue with the way I serve her, she will not hesitate to let me know"

"I'll bet" a cruel smirk spread across Sandor's face. "And they call me the hound. What a well trained little bitch she has in you."

The slap came on reflex, fueled by indignant rage that fled your body as quickly as it came. The blood drained from your face as the Hound's gaze trained on you with a low growl.

"You get one of those. Only one. Next time you even think about raising hand to me, I'll tear it off and beat you with it"

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes as if bracing for a strike until Clegane let out a slow exhale.

"Run back to your mistress, little girl. And don't let me see your face until morning."

You did exactly that, hovering in the hallway of your lady's room until Ser Jaime slipped out quietly and tried to sneakily return to his own before stopping in his tracks at the sight of you.

You curtisied and kept your head down until your chin was jerked up suddenly, making you flinch. Jaime's eyes studied your face, smoothing his thumb over your cheek to wipe away a stream of tears. You'd been crying and didn't even realize it.

"Do I need to do something about this?" The head of the kingsgaurd asked, knowing you fully got his meaning.

"No" you shook you head and wiped away what was left of your tears with your palm. "No Ser, I am fine. Thank you'

Jaime nodded. "My sister is waiting for you"

"Yes, Ser" you breathed, trying to right yourself before letting your lady see you. "Thank you, Ser"

You watched him go, steadying your breath and wiping your eyes one last time before returning to your post

[deejadabbles]

The Handmaiden's Fox (Fox x Fem!Reader) Chapter One

Summary: You have been by Amidala’s side since she was the queen of Naboo and no one will shake you from your duty. Not even a handsome, red-clad commander who seems quite taken with the friendship you’ve forged. Commander Fox x fem handmaiden reader. Slow burn, friends to lovers. Rating: Mature A.N: So for those of you who don't know: all of Padmé's handmaidens take new names ending with " é " as a sign of loyalty to her. I never mentioned the reader's é name as I want that to be personal, but I wanted to mention it since it comes into play in the story <3

I've also made a playlist for this series, in case you want to set the mood with tunes. Word Count: 6,284 Warnings: just some blaster fire and canon typical danger Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up  /// AO3

Prologue /// Part One /// Part Two /// [part three coming soon]

Chapter one

The roaring of the senate chamber was deafening. You had thought that years of exposure to it would harden your hearing, but no petty debate between dozens of senators could have prepared you for the screaming of the last two weeks. Two weeks. Not even fourteen rotations had passed since the battle of Geonosis. Since the start of the Clone War. Every day more and more planets were leaving to join the Separatists, and the destruction of chaos was spreading fast. So, you supposed it was little surprise that every single debate in the Senate was automatically a vibrant verbal brawl now.

And here you had hoped that fewer senators in the hall would lessen the noise.

As always, you stood sentry behind your lady, your Amidala, who had fought in the first battle of the war. Who had been thrown into a pit for execution, and blasted her way out like a warrior. Now, she was in a whole new type of pit, instead of fighting starved beasts, she was now fighting numerous senators who seemed content to throw out any shred of decency in favor of war.

You watched as the senator from Corellia made their argument, that they needed to cut off relief aid funding in favor of the cloning facilities. Just two weeks in, and the need for more clones was already apparent. In the seat in front of you, you watched Padmé stiffen at the way the other senator implied that ‘lesser’ worlds needed to help themselves before asking the Republic for aid. She was raring for a fight, and fight she did.

You never got tired of watching Padmé put someone in place with a few carefully chosen words. Never tired of the way she fought for others…even if it didn’t always work in the end.

“Motion passed,” came Chancellor Palpatine’s voice. 

You closed your eyes with the smallest sigh, knowing that even more suffering would come to pass now. At least this was only a motion to start talking about cutting funding. Padmé would do everything she could to make sure the next bill was as fair as she could manage.

When the sound that indicated the end of the day’s session rang through the chamber, you almost slumped with relief. You didn’t of course, no handmaiden ever lost her composure under the watchful eye of the senate. But you were glad that it was finally time to return to your lady’s office. A headache was coming on strong.

Padmé had more grace than to storm out of the chamber like a woman on a war path, but your trained eye could see she was exactly that as she walked calmly out into the hall. She didn’t try to hide her expressions nearly as much now, her queen persona having faded quite a lot in the passing years, but she still knew the value of looking calm to her colleagues.

The hallways were a buzz with activity, aids and senators alike calling for associates and running here and there for their next task. That, and it was filled with the sounds of armored boots. 

As you and the Naboo guards followed Padmé, several groups of the new clone trooper units passed by. All of it was still a little disconcerting, having such heavily armed men tramping around. It brought back memories, wounds a decade old still felt fresh as the sound of marching feet reminded you of droids taking over Theed. 

You were proud that you had fought for your home world all those years ago, fought the Trade Federation (who now were now ironically a head of the Separatists) and took back your planet and your people. But that didn’t mean the battle was easy. 

And these men, these soldiers bred for war, would see far worse in the coming days. 

It might be easy, to look at their identical armor and expressionless helmets, and see them as something akin to droids, but they weren’t. They were flesh and blood under all that plastoid and, while their new and overbearing presence may be unsettling for now, you refused to dehumanize them in your mind like that.

A call of your name drew your attention back to the present, just as Padmé reached the door to her office.

“I have that meeting with Bail and Mon in about an hour, but there’s still so much work to do,” she sighed as the door closed behind her, “I hate to ask, but-”

“I will stay here and file anything you need, my lady.” You had anticipated this, things were still adjusting to the new war-time normal, and Padmé’s workload was more overwhelming than ever, and that was saying something. To ensure she got any rest at all right now, you had to do much of the paperwork she would see to personally while the committees and meeting ate up her time.

She sighed with relief and gave you that small smile that always held her deepest affection. “Thank you, I’ll get a head start on it for you at least, since I still need you to research the Chabrill and Cordia incidences.”

And so the two of you got to work. Your first tasks were easy enough, you’d lost count of the number of info packs you’d written for her on import events over the years, and they were done by the time she and the guards left for that meeting. You stayed behind in the office, her atmosphere controlls set to play your favorite soothing sounds for white noise as you worked.

Padmé trusted you to answer most of her mail and requests the way she would and save the dire ones for her personal attention. You polished up and filed her pending motions, and a dozen other mundane things that made you want to pull your hair out despite your never waving composure. God, you hated politics sometimes. More or less than paperwork, you couldn’t say, but it was always a close running between the two.

You were just answering a far too flirtatious message from Senator Dobo and almost, almost, missed the way the sound of armored feet got louder just outside the door.

Eyes flashed up to the entrance, just as it was slid open without so much as a knock.

Three clone troopers came charging in as you jumped to your feet behind the desk.

“What is the meaning of this?” you demanded in a cool tone, hands slipping into the sleeves of your tunic in a neutral dignified posture. “Troopers are not permitted in here without permission.”

“Are you Senator Amidala?” The one in front asked, tone clipped, not the monotone you had heard a few clones use over the past weeks.

“I am her aid, and I demand you answer my question, trooper.” 

You saw it, the barely-there way his shoulders stiffen, before he clasped his hands behind his back, and feel the eyes behind the visor bore into you.

“We need to see the senator immediately, we’ve received intelligence that there’s been a threat made on her life.”

…Oh, was that all? You almost laughed. Though you did appreciate the man’s obvious dedication to his job.

Your eyes took in the freshly painted red on the white armor, having heard that the higher ranks of clones had adopted the marking to indicate their legions and ranks. This one had the vaguely sword-like symbol of Coruscant emblazoned boldly on his chest, while the two at attention behind him had simpler red markings.

“You must be the new Commander of the Coruscant Guard,” you said.

“I am.”

“Then, Commander, you will soon learn that there is always a threat made on Senator Amidala’s life. It comes hand in hand with her tendency to put dangerous people in their place.”

Again your keen eyes picked up on the tightening of his arms, so subtle under the armor even you almost missed it. One talent you’d learned in the Naboo royal court, was reading body language, especially the body language of those who always hid theirs. It was an even more useful skill in your new position, though you’d never thought to use it on these men. The clone was either shocked at the candor in which you spoke about the danger, or annoyed with how you were talking to him. Maybe both.

“All the same,” his tone was measured now, but you heard the hint of gritted teeth behind the polite words, “I must speak with Amidala about the threat. Personally.”

Had you not been schooling your expression like you always did here, you would have raised your eyebrows at him. You weren’t annoyed, not really, in fact, you found the way he stood his ground almost admirable. He cared about his job but…maybe it was more than that. Maybe he cared about the safety of others on a more personal level. You weren’t sure yet, but, the commander had made his way onto your list of potential allies, one you may pursue in the future.

If he was annoyed with you, there was no need to vex him further. You gave a small, respectful incline of your head. “Very well, Commander. I will escort you to her.” 

He did not thank you as you made your way around the desk and walked past them through the door, but he fell in step behind you without protest. You sent a quick message from your small wrist unit, using a code phrase that would warn Padmé to be alert.

You could practically feel the tension in the troopers behind you and normally, you would ignore it, but, if you were being honest, you liked the opportunity this gave you. To learn more about the men who were now protecting the senate.

“I did not catch your name, Commander,” you said, keeping your eyes forward.

“CC-1010.”

You actually faltered a little at that, “Excuse me?” This time you actually looked over your shoulder at him, and let your brow lift up in question. You didn’t miss the way his body shifted under your gaze.

“It’s the only name they gave me, ma’am.” His tone was just a notch lower now, another thing of note.

A number. A number, like a droid. 

That didn’t sit well with you, not one bit, but, you supposed it was none of your business, for now. “I see,” you said after a moment, then turned your eyes back in front of you. “Well, Commander, if you ever decide to take another name, please do let me know.”

“I didn’t get your name either.”

You almost smiled at that, and gave him the name you had taken when you took on the role of handmaiden all those years ago. Very few people here on Coruscant knew your birth name, and none used it. The commander would have to become an extremely close friend to ever earn that honor.

A few minutes of silent walking passed before you finally reached Bail Organa’s office. To his credit, CC-10- ugh, no, you were not calling him that, even in your head, unless he asked you to. To his credit, the Commander listened to your advice when you asked him to ring the doorbell before barging in on a private meeting.

You graciously gave an apology for the interruption when the four of you entered, then swept out of the way as the clones gave their report to Amidala. Admittedly, the threat was not quite as laughable as you had first thought it was, but it was hardly the worst one Padmé had faced, even just in the last year. Apparently a small-time thug in the mid-rim thought he might ingratiate himself to the Trade Federation by ‘taking out’ their most hated senator. He couldn’t afford the prices of the Bounty Hunter Guild and  so, had posted smaller sums of money for anyone to take should they manage the job.

Considering Padmé had survived actual guild level assassin’s for a few years now, you weren’t that concerned.

Still, you admired the troops doing their jobs to the letter, and your lady accepted the Commander’s advice of a personal Corrie Guard escort as a precaution for the coming days. It was hardly needed. You, Dormé, and Captain Typho had always been more than enough security, but, it made the clone Commander feel better, than it couldn’t hurt.

All in all the conversation was somewhat short, and soon enough the man took his leave, ordering the other two clones to stay behind with Amidala. After that, Bail, who was amused at Padmé collecting yet another enemy, said that the rest of their meeting could wait until next time. The senators bade each other a good night and you followed your lady out of the office along with the new red painted guards.

Neither of them had said a word this whole time, but you supposed that was their right. That didn’t stop Typho from giving the clones a run down of how his guard details worked, and how he wanted the clones to integrate into that routine. 

As they talked, Padmé fell back to meet your steps. “So, you’ve met the Commander of the new Coruscant Guard,” she started, tone quiet so no one would overhear you. “Did you talk to him at all while escorting him?”

“A little, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“And? What’s your opinion of him so far? Besides his lack of extroverted tendencies, that is.”

You felt the urge to bite your lip. Overall, you hadn’t spent enough time to get a decent read on him yet, but it was still odd how much of a blank slate you were drawing when thinking up your opinion. Maybe it was his armor and helmet, how not seeing his face made it harder to gauge his reactions and thoughts. Or maybe, he was almost as good as the handmaidens when it came to hiding himself through stoicism. 

The fact that you couldn’t decide which was more likely annoyed you a little.

“Honestly? I’m…not sure what I think of him yet.”

That sentiment continued over the following week. You hadn’t expected to see the man in red quite so soon, after scheduling shifts for his men to rotate in and out of Padmé’s service, you had assumed he would move on to other tasks and concerns. 

So, imagine your surprise when you found yourself once again in the Commander’s company without Padmé. 

Once again you were in her office, working on her latest project while she and Dormé attended a charity dinner, when there was a chime indicating someone at the door. Your eyes needed a break in any case, so you pulled yourself out of your favorite armchair and rubbed your eyes as you walked to the door. Then, you felt your interest piqued when you checked the security cam and saw that red and white helmet staring expectantly at the lens. Well, at least he knocked this time. He should be glad of that for his own sake, as you were in no mood for rudeness tonight.

After straightening your back and putting on that stoic mask, you opened the door. “Good evening, Commander, what may I help you with?”

“May I speak with the Senator?”

“I’m afraid she’s out for the evening, but I should be able to help with whatever you need.”

“Very well,” He reached behind him and slid a datapad from a pouch on his belt. “I’ve reviewed the Senator’s security details based on reports my men have given me. I have some changes I’d like to make.”

A sarcastic, ‘oh you do, do you?’ almost left your mouth, but you held it in, you really must be well past tired now. He held the data pad out to you and you began reading it before you even took it in hand.

“Please, come in,” you offered with a wave, “take a seat if you’d like.” You had a feeling this was going to be a long back and forth.

He said a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” as he stepped in, but did not even glance at the various chairs in the room, opting instead to stand at attention in the center of it all.

“She won’t agree to this,” you concluded after a moment, not having even scrolled halfway through the document. “She would be appalled by the mere idea of you searching her staff’s rooms without probable cause.” Another tap on the screen. “She’d also deny the proposal to lengthen guard shifts, she tries to keep them down to 7 hours to avoid stress and,” you almost laughed at this one, “and she has never allowed guards to stay in her room at night.”

“My men would never do anything inappropriate-”

“I did not say they would,” you assured with a raise of your hand, “Amidala doesn’t even let handmaidens such as myself stay in her room anymore, it’s nothing personal.” The last thing anyone needed was a corrie guard to shoot Skywalker the next time he thought he was sneaking into her room unnoticed.

The clone was silent for just a moment, his unreadable visor trained on you as you stared back. “Are there any of my suggestions that meet your approval?”

You didn’t know if he meant to say ‘her’ and mentioned you by mistake, or if he thought that you were making it your personal mission to thwart him at every turn. He meant well, you knew that, but you could picture exactly how the conversation would go if you gave this over for her to review, and you respected his time too much to waste it.

“How about this, Commander, would you allow me to tweak these suggestions into ones my lady will consider? I will try my best to keep the heart of them intact for you.”

He shifted on his feet a little, before clasping his hands behind his back. A faint crackle of his vocator said that he might have been holding in a sigh. “I suppose that’s an agreeable compromise.”

A part of you had hoped for a thank you, after all, you were taking time out of your already heavy workload to help, but you supposed the polite nod of his helmet would do. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get comfortable in your oversized chair with him standing there like a tall armored gargoyle, so instead you sat at Padmé’s desk and began typing.

Looking back, you probably should have read the whole proposal through the first time, if you had, the last bit of it wouldn't have come as such a shock.

“I’m a subject of one of your new plans?” you asked, looking up at him and allowing just a sprinkle of incredulity onto your expression.

“Yes.”

“Care to explain why I need a clone guard of my own?”

A slight roll of his shoulders, arms still behind his back. “I researched you. You’ve been in the Senator’s employ since before she came here.”

“I have.”

“And you don’t live in the senatorial apartments like the other staff. You live alone.”

“I do.”

He was silent, which only made your annoyance flare.

“And?” it came out far more snapping than you’d meant it to, and immediately you reeled the annoyance back in. Then, much more kindly, you added, “Please, Commander, speak your mind with me.”

At that, you noticed his shoulders actually lower just a bit, a controlled version of relaxing. “Isn’t it obvious? Your close relationship with the Senator makes you a target. If any of these thugs realized how close you are to her, they’d use you to get to her. I’ll have one of my troops escort you home every night and stand guard at your apartment to ensure your safety.”

Well, wasn’t that sweet. 

In truth, his suggestion actually took you by surprise. You hadn’t thought much about what living alone for the first time in a decade might mean. The condo was a new gift from Padmé, a token of her ‘thanks’ for all your years of service, a chance to have something of your own since you had lived with her since the day you stepped foot in her palace. In truth, you knew it was a peace offering, she had to change so much of her life to accommodate that tempestuous young Jedi of hers now. 

It didn’t matter that you knew the basics of their relationship, Padmé still couldn’t hold her handmaidens as close as she once did, or the secret of her marriage might be jeopardized. So she offered you your own space, your own home while she had to push you away. It had hurt, it still hurt a little, but you understood, and loved her too much to complain. She loved that Jedi and, if putting space between you and her was what she needed, then you would give it to her without question.

You hadn’t even had time to think about what living away from her might mean regarding safety.

“I’m very impressed with your work, Commander,” you admitted eventually. “You obviously take your role to heart and Amidala herself would appreciate your thoroughness. But, I promise you, there isn’t any need to waste one of your men on me. I can take care of myself.”

“I disagree.”

The annoyance came back with a vengeance- how dare he assume that-!

“Disagree about there not being a need, ma’am,” he quickly amended, and you realized your anger must have flashed across your face. “I don’t know what your personal training has been like, but all the same, my men are trained to protect and serve. Let them do their jobs.”

You allowed yourself a calming sigh. For all his stiffness, he really was trying to be polite and you supposed you could tap into your inner politician for him. 

“Please take a seat, Commander, I see no reason for you not to be comfortable while we hash this out.”

It had been nearly a month since he, the head of the Coruscant Guard, warned that senator about the threat on her life, and the way she made no changes to her daily routine was, frankly, starting to piss him off.

“What do you mean she’s still going to attend that rally!?” He hadn’t meant to yell, especially at the brother who had just gotten off a twelve hour watch shift outside Amidala’s residence. But damn it, was he annoyed.

At least the trooper didn’t seem shaken, “Sir, I expressed my concern, but she just reiterated that-”

“That ‘no one is going to scare me into hiding’ right right, so she’s said,” the Commander finished, having heard that same line several times from the woman- and her bossy little handmaiden, over the last month. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, mind wandering over the dozens of security weaknesses this rally was sure to have. Why was it so damn important that she make some speech at a gathering for- kriff, he didn’t even remember what the topic was. Not that it mattered in the end. He was quickly realizing that this willful senator was going to give him endless migraines.

“Perhaps, assigning more troops to her will help, sir?” the shinny offered, obviously trying his best to help.

“No, we’re already stretched thin, even if I hadn’t made up the schedules for the week.” At least he managed to sound less grumpy that time, it wasn’t the kid’s fault that his new job wasn’t what he’d expected. He thought he’d be out putting blaster holes in droids right now, freeing innocent civies from seppie control in a blaze of glory. Instead, he was bowing to the simpering pleas of the chancellor and corralling feral senators like cadets in their first shooting lesson.

Alright, maybe ‘feral’ was a little harsh for Amidala, and her bossy aid. Truthfully, despite their tendencies to brush off his concerns, they at least showed some respect to him and his men, more than a lot of the politicians in the building. Not that it was his place to care about said things in the first place, he had to follow orders no matter who treated him in whatever way.

He let out a sigh. “I’ll escort her personally,” he eventually concluded. 

It was the best answer, he could put off reports or the couple of hours the rally took, and his skills were more finely honed than a majority of his men, meaning he’d more than enough. 

“Dismissed, trooper, you’re off duty.”

An attentive ‘yes, sir!’ followed that, with the familiar sound of armored feet marching out his office door. The Commander rolled his shoulders and picked up his personal data pad to double check Amidala’s schedule. He’d have to let Thorn know he wasn’t going to be in during that time slot, and ask him to take on any in-house emergencies, but, other than that, it shouldn’t be an issue.

This was going to be an interesting day.

About two hours later, his shuttle was landing on the platform outside Amidala’s residence. Always vigilant, he was greeted by her personal guard dressed in traditional Naboo attire- how nat-borns felt safe wearing nothing but cloth, he’d never know.

“Commander,” Typho, the captain of her guard, greeted, “what brings you here this time?”

“I was informed of the Senator’s plans to attend that rally,” despite my warnings and advice, “I’m here as extra security,” since, apparently, I care more about her safety than she does!

Typho smirked, the skin near his roguish eye patch crinkling, “If you insist, though, if you have more important duties to tend to, I assure you, we have everything under control.”

“If my other duties were an issue, I wouldn't be here.” The words came out more flatly than he’d intended, but Typho didn’t seem bothered as he led him through the transparisteel doors into the apartment proper.

As always there were aids and household staff running about, along with that gold protocol droid who seemed to find something to fret and cry about at all hours, according to his men. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in the residence himself in the last month and, just when a particular handmaiden came striding out of the bedroom chamber with that cool collected expression, the memory of the previous time came flooding back. 

Not many people stood their ground against a man like him, but you seemed to do it as if it were nothing. He had been demanding to see Amidala, to update her on his latest information regarding the mercenaries, but you had planted yourself between him and her door like a statue. He still remembered that blank stare you gave him, that told him everything and nothing at the same time- that somehow said a rude ‘take a hike, boy’ and a polite ‘the senator will answer your concerns at a later date’ simultaneously. It was only when he had made to shove past you a third time that you told him why he couldn’t go inside yet. Honestly, if you had just said that Amidala was undressed in the first place, he would have understood! He wasn’t that unfamiliar with nat-borns and their boundaries.

Standing in the same room again now, he felt his face get a little warm at the memory, especially when you approached him.

“Good evening, Commander,” you greeted in that smooth, even tone of yours. “Senator Amidala is getting ready for the evening’s events, and wants me to thank you for your offer of extra security.”

How did she- how would you- how could either of you possibly know why he was here already? He recovered quickly enough, clasping his hands behind his back. “Just, doing my job, ma’am.”

“Would you like anything while you wait? Something to drink perhaps? Or…a lengthy report on the event hall and its security weaknesses?”

He blinked behind his helmet, unable to tell if you were joking. Ever since that late night of debating security in Amidala’s office, you seemed a little less careful with your words when talking to him. Even if he still couldn’t always discern their actual meaning.

That was another thing about you that he noticed, his own inability to puzzle you out sometimes. One moment you were all bossy, demanding answers and actions out of him in a cooler tone than most of his COs, the next you were rather pleasant, all respectful nods and considerate questions. Like asking about his name. His name, you were the first nat-born to ever ask him if he even had one.

Even after these little encounters, he still couldn’t quite figure you out, and it was honestly starting to annoy him a little.

“I already did thorough research on the venue, so there’s no need for that,” was the answer he finally settled on.

There was that polite bow of your head again, “Of course, Commander.”

“Fox.”

He almost saw your face twitch in confusion as you looked back up at him. “Pardon?”

“You said that if I ever chose another name, to tell you. I’m Commander Fox now.”

There was the smallest little lift at the corner of your mouth. “Then, I am pleased to reacquaint myself with your name, Commander Fox.”

Fox wasn’t sure if that was some particular Naboo saying or not, but he didn’t have time to wonder as Amidala came striding out of the bedchamber. Fox snapped back to attention fast, and put everything except for protocol out of his thoughts as the evening went on.

All in all, the rally had gone… well. 

Fox stood on the sidelines, scanning the perimeter, repeatedly checking the entry points, and when Amidala gave her speech he made sure no one got even an arm’s length from the podium. You and the other handmaidens were at the woman’s side the whole time, never wavering, always at attention, always watching. Seeing all four women together for the first time, and noting how they positioned themselves around the Senator, made him realize something. 

When the handmaidens moved together, they used a formation that he and his men often did. A military formation. He’d recognize it anywhere, even if the bodies were swathed in velvety cloth instead of hard armor and the hands were tucked into sleeves instead of gripping blasters. Maybe he had more to learn about the training nat-borns went through on various planets.

Oh and…had he said the rally went well? There was an amendment to that: it went well until it all went to shit.

The meeting was over and Fox waved for the senator’s group to follow him through the back room of the venue, to where the transport was waiting outside. His eyes were keen, as always, watching, searching, but even when he didn’t spot anything, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

His fingers were just about to open the door to the outside landing pad, when your voice called out behind him. He turned and saw your brows pinched together as you pressed your finger to your ear.

“I’m not getting a response from our driver,” you said, “I think somethi-” 

He saw your eyes go wide in shock before he registered the door sliding open behind him. Fox’s body was turning on instinct, but he thought he saw a flash of silver being pulled from the velvet of your sleeve before he came face to face with a thug lifting a rifle.

Hands went to his pistols a second before the goon fired, but it was still too slow- until the thug got hit square in the chest from shot fired somewhere behind Fox. That left the Commander free to fire at the two others who where closing in on the door. The second they fell he slammed his elbow on the control panel, eyes darting across the platform to assess, even as the door slid shut.

Another punch with his hand and the door resealed itself, but it wouldn’t hold them for long. 

“I counted five,” there was your voice again, as you crouched opposite him of the entrance, holding a elegant silver blaster at the ready, “five, besides the ones we already stunned.”

“Obviously they thought they could overwhelm us with numbers instead of skill,” he heard Amidala say, completely surrounded by her guards and other handmaidens, all with blasters in hand. 

“This door won’t hold them for long,” Fox could already hear shouts and feet closing in.

That’s when he saw a mischievous kind of determination glimmer in your eyes. “Commander, if they want to trap themselves on that small platform while we hold a choke point, I say: let them.”

Despite himself, Fox smirked behind his helmet. He liked the way you thought.

“We’ll watch your back,” Typho offered, signaling his own guards to cover the only other door in the room.

“I take the left, you right?” you asked, face set, ready.

Fox gave you a second’s long look, and nodded, before he opened the door. 

The moment it hissed open there was chaos. Thankfully, the idiots on the other side couldn’t aim worth a shit. Fox had to trust that you could cover the left, which was, admittedly, not easy for him, but you had been quick enough to shoot the first gunman over his shoulder, and that gave him a little confidence.

Instead, Fox made himself focus on the two who had been trying to get the door open, their closeness making them easy pickings. Later, he might actually laugh at the sheer lack of skill and coordination the group had. He couldn't laugh, though, idiots with guns were their own kind of dangerous and he shouldn't underestimate that.

“Fox, straight ahead!” he heard you shout over the blasterfire, just as his second target fell. 

He looked up and saw a mountain sized lassat, charging at the door with a riot shield in hand, taking all their blaster shot. With barely enough time to dive out of the way, Fox didn’t even see that you had jumped up to grab a shelving unit beside the door.

Your timing was perfect.

The lassat had just barely cleared the door as you pulled on the shelf and sent it slamming into his side, the shield falling useless from his grasp. It wasn’t quite enough to fell the large man, though, and Fox- as well as the other handmaidens in the room, opened fire as the enemy rounded on you with a shout. You ducked under his large fist as the first volley of stun bolts hit him.

By Fox’s count, it took 17 shots to bring him down, and when he fell it was with a resounding thud.

Everyone held their breath for a moment, heart beat thudding in his ears. Not another shot sounded, even as you moved to sweep the doorway one last time. When you confirmed that all was clear, the room breathed again.

Fox was just about to clamber to his feet, when you walked up and extended your hand. “Are you alright, Commander?”

He grunted in reply, taking your offered hand, and felt a jolt of surprise when you hauled him up with almost no effort. A quick scan of your body assured him that you hadn’t been hit, so he turned to the room at large.

“Is everyone else alright?” Fox asked, just as he heard sirens closing in.

“We’re fine,” Amidala announced with pride, “it takes far more than a few would-be bandits to shake us, Fox.” 

“Our driver was finally able to reach us,” Typho interjected, “she managed to escape their ambush and call for back up.”

That explained the sirens. Fox pulled out the wrist binders from his belt pouch and knelt to cuff the lassat. He would have to give his report to the others when they landed, but, before they did, he had one other duty to tend to.

He straightened up, standing practically chest to chest with you as you finally relaxed and lowered your blaster. Fox liked your fire, and hadn’t misplaced his trust when he let you help him. Honestly, if today was any indicator, he’d be proud to fight beside you any day. But, rules were rules.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” his hand shot out to snatch your blaster before you could react, “but you’re in violation of code 187-24.”

“E-excuse me?!”

Fox had never seen a strong emotion on your face to date, so the look of completely anger and incredulity that crossed your face almost made him laugh.

He pushed the thought away as he waved his hands at the other handmaidens, “Neither you, or any of them are registered as personal guards in our records. Under the new Coruscant Guard Regulations, aids are not permitted to carry firearms. Now, given the newness of the codes, I can let all of you off with a warning, but this is a serious violation and further investigation may be needed.”

“Now wait just a moment, Commander!” Amidala said through her teeth as she rushed forward.

Quite a bit of squabbling now mixed with the sounds of sirens, all of it giving Fox a headache. He sighed through he helmet, honestly, he was just doing his job.

And, it was only because he was nice that he wasn’t forcing you into cuffs right there. But no one thought of that while he cleaned up this mess- the mess that also could have been avoid, had everyone just listened to him in the first place!

No one ever listened to Fox.

You should definitely be thanking him for not arresting you.

.

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