#your humble servant at your service

[theglamour-theterror]

(oc) Working District Four escort since the 70th

[wileycap]

The Palace Servants in the first year of Zuko's reign:

"Your Majesty, a motion has respectfully been put forth for you to employ the services of a royal food taster. We humbly ask that you consider it."

... the fifth year of his reign:

"Lord Zuko, the Imperial Firebenders can handle the assassins. Please stay out of this."

... and the 30th year of his reign:

"GET OFF THE ROOF, YOU FUCKING GREMLIN! YOU'RE ALMOST FIFTY!"

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

꒰ What makes you heavenly ? ꒱

You’re the closest thing to heaven that one has ever seen because of your youthfulness and humility. You’re a possessive person but you seem to have learned many lessons in regard to that possession. In the past, you’ve given away a lot to others in hopes of having them in some way. Back then, you weren’t as possessive or at least you hadn’t stepped into your possessive nature, or even tapped into it properly yet so it was not about having them, it was more about giving for you. You’ve always been a giver and due to this desire to give, you ended up giving to the wrong situations. Back then, you seem to have been kind of detached in this way, as in, you were okay with giving even if you weren’t necessarily receiving anything. You wanted to receive as well but despite this desire to receive, you continued giving away without much if any returns because for you, simply just having someone to give to and the hope of having them during your hard times, even if it’s just in spirit or presence without any support was enough for you because you’re a giver. Basically, back then you just wanted an excuse to give but it could have led to you having felt at a loss? This is when your possessive side came to life because you realised that even after having given so much, you weren’t respected let alone valued or well regarded. It’s like others just took whatever you could offer and left, and you felt used. There was this feeling of “am I that easy to let go of?” I’m so sorry that your generosity was abused and taken for granted. Also, despite being a giver, there’s another side of you that you may or may not be aware of. You have a deep desire to be desired. You really want to have someone’s passion, heart, love and body. Overtime, you’ve grown to learn that it is not about possession, it never has been, it’s about devotion. People don’t belong to you and that’s the beauty of it because it means that when someone does belong to you, it’s because they want to. You’re someone who wants to devote yourself to someone. I just heard “make me your servant, humble and meek.” You’ve developed a certain peace within yourself with the knowledge that it’s not wrong of you to want to have someone who devotes themself to you when you literally want to do the same thing. You think that in order to experience your devotion in its highest and fullest extent, you deserve and need an equal who does the same thing so that you have the space to express this side of you wholeheartedly. You’re someone who’s so generous but also very private. I don’t know if even you realise it but you’re someone who despite your giving nature and open, and wholehearted ways are very private. It’s not a bad thing because only those who truly see you will see these sides of you and get to experience you in your true sacredness. Think about how people pray and devote themselves to a certain god in order to attain heaven.

They’re not sure if it even exists, it’s just their belief, their faith that it does and they put their all into the attainment of it. You’re someone who gives so much to others that they may take it for granted but they don’t realise that they’d get to experience true pleasure, heaven itself in the form of you if they’d only be able to love you and open you up by devoting themselves to you but once you stop giving to these individuals. Even if not immediately, overtime, they feel the loss. Overtime, they start searching for the love and generosity that they left at your doorstep. They might try to find it elsewhere but the thing is it’s difficult to find someone who’s willing to do and give so much. Even if they do find someone like it, it’s not you so something feels missing. What I find to be particularly amusing is that others seem to take from you and act as though they don’t owe anything to you, as if you’ve never given them anything, as if you’re of no value. This seems to be more of past energy though. You’ve always held certain parts of yourself for people who would matter the most to you in this lifetime. In fact, even as you were giving to others in the past, you were very private. I feel like many people might not know how deep, private and stingy you are with certain things, yourself and a place in your life due to how generous, open and wholehearted you seem on the surface but those who try to get close to you while you don’t feel a connection to them seem to know of this side of you. Many others can pick up on how selective you are as well. It honestly just depends on who you’re around and how their mind works. You’ve let go of a lot - people, issues, insecurities, wondering if your generosity makes you easy or is the reason you’re not valued, or if you’re not enough no matter how much you give. You’ve realised that you can’t control other people’s feelings and actions no matter how much you give. You’ve also learned that many people won’t even have the decency to be grateful and express appreciation for all that you’ve been for them, done for them and given them, and that that’s okay. You’ve gained courage and have learned how to be extremely giving while still not being at a loss, possibly by expecting less to nothing from others or by learning when to stop giving, or by giving to those who actually need and therefore, appreciate it but you still seem to be a giver. Many of you have also realised that you are a private and personal person who holds many sides of you to be sacred, and doesn’t let just anyone into your life in that way despite being giving, generous, and wholehearted. That you’re not easy, that you’re not someone to take for granted and that people who like you just because you withhold your energy, just because you restrict your true giving nature are just as ‘not your people’ as those who do nothing but leech off you and take what you give with no returns, and no appreciation or gratitude. With those who are fortunate enough to step into your inner circle, feel you and experience your life, you’re very open and vulnerable.

You’re also someone who can overspend at times because you pay for others especially those close to you. I honestly think that some of you even pay for those who aren’t close to you if you sense that they don’t have money. You’ve let go of wounds when it comes to giving and have accepted, and are living by your authenticity i.e. your giving, and generous nature in which you are open and wholehearted while still being private, and having a side of you that you only show and give to those who are extremely close, and dear to you. Your existence is only proof that nothing is more heavenly than authenticity. You make people stop and think, you cause them to feel as though they’re taking a pause with you, and there’s a feeling of them not being completely in the air about/with you but not completely on the ground either. You have sacrificed and done a lot for even those who weren’t sure about you. These people didn’t add meaningful into your life, they were just passively there but when it came to taking from you, they took as if they were an active part of your life. You changed their perspective in many ways, providing them with many valuable insights but it’s like they completely missed it. They were just viewing the world very differently than you were. However, these people are not exempt from your effect on them. You made them feel suspended in time, you still have this effect on people and you’re someone who has undergone self improvement so this energy has only grown stronger. You make people see things from a different perspective and because you seem to be so at peace with yourself, people feel as though letting go of certain things, not giving into instant gratification and simply just tweaking their perception of things a little or even deciding to drastically change it could help them. “A sacrifice for the higher good” is the energy that I’m getting here. Those from the past are learning from all that you were and all that you did instead of passively enjoying the benefits of your sacrifices, and willingness to give them so best believe, it was not for nothing. They seem to know that why you had to let go and that they’d never have been able to attain the knowledge, wisdom and insights that they’ve gotten if you were still around. You guys were in a stalemate of some sort, these people were passive and had a distorted view of you, and approach to you while you were still there. Many of these people seem to have treated you as if you’d always be there and were functioning egotistically, not leaving this state of a limbo, simply just enjoying the benefits that you were offering them while not being present in your life and offering you any benefits. These people seem to be the kind of people to take your help but when you need help, they’re nowhere to be found or they’re just observing you struggling instead of helping you, or they outright act helpless, not even trying to help, possibly by making an excuse.

I’m getting a certain sense of ignorance, neglect and passivity from them. They haven’t gotten away with it, they’ve been punished, your absence was a great loss for them, they do not have much of a perception of time, you still affect them. They still learn lessons from you and because they couldn’t attain necessary wisdom from your presence, and instead grew complacent, they’re having to do so in your absence. I’m not sure how it’s relevant but I just heard “someone who moves on first, moves on worst” and also ‘you’re losing me’ by Taylor Swift is coming through. You were a big sacrifice, a great loss but it was still for the highest good because they were not able to learn in your presence. These people could never understand you when you were still there because they were viewing you through a very distorted lens. However, enough about them, focusing on the present, you make people feel as though they’re floating in some way. Time is relative and with you, time passes by differently, so fast yet so slow like they’re just suspended in the air with the rest of the world continuing to function as it is except the two of you. You make them feel as though they’ve received insights that will help them grow even if all they’ve done is spent time with you and true growth will only be tested when the time to apply what they’ve gotten from you will come. These people still are in half air, half ground when it comes to you because you just have that effect on people, you’re so real and authentic yet so dreamy, and your insights are so original, so different. Most people don’t use independent thinking and don’t even bother reasoning but your ideologies and insights are so unique, it just makes people wonder where you got that from, how you can be so intelligent, how you can look at life this way, etc. They’re in awe of how you’re not only dreamy and flighty yet grounded, and real but also intellectually deep, and have such original thoughts, philosophies, beliefs and insights. You’re someone who follows the ‘let them’ theory, when someone is mean, you let them be, you continue being passive, humble and don’t let it affect you negatively instead you attain wisdom from it, and learn practical as well as philosophical lessons from it to apply to your life. Therefore, growing and progressing in the process. When people think back about you, the memories that greet them are the beginning of knowing you, how curious you were, how willing you were to learn about them and life itself, and how much you desired to improve. They otherwise think about how humble and curious you were throughout the time that they knew you, how you truly tried in practical ways to make the connection grow and save situations. They remember how much hard work and effort you were willing to put in. The people who know you more recently remember you as someone humble, who’s always learning, has a youthful side to them but is consistently learning, growing and improving, and is constantly trying to do so. There are also people who remember you as someone who can’t be pushed out of this energy because you seem to be firm and grounded within your own humility, character, curiosity and youthfulness, and have found strength within it. These are the qualities that make you heavenly. Thank you for reading, much love and take care 💕🫶🏻.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

꒰ What makes you heavenly ? ꒱

You’re the nearest thing to heaven that one has ever seen because you’re compassionate and pure. As a kid you were someone who used to like when dogs licked the palm of your hand. You seem to have been sensitive back then due to your kindness and compassion. Possibly the type to cry easily when someone you loved and felt for was being treated or talked to poorly. Gosh, this is so sweet. You had a lot of love for dogs and cats growing up, maybe now not as much for some of you but most of you love these animals. Even those of you who have grown out of this pure and excited kind of love in which you play, coddle and cuddle with animals, you care about them in a very mature, and grounded manner. For example, wanting to provide food for them. You tend to feel very guilty if you’re eating something like meat and a dog or cat is just staring up at you, you try to give them at least a small portion of whatever you’re having. Even this guilt and practical nurturing come from a very pure hearted place. It’s not just felines and canines that you love, and take care of in such practical ways, you’re like this with humans too. Every connection for you is an investment and I do not mean it in a “you’re opportunistic” way. What I mean is that you’re someone who naturally has a long term vision, I’m not sure if you’re aware of it or not but anything casual is NOT going to work out for you. When one is investing, they put in as much as they can with the hopes of returns, if the investments are long term they continue doing so for a long time but if they don’t see returns or experience loss of some sort, after a certain point they stop investing onto that particular thing, that’s the way you go about people. I think it’s unconscious for most of you, something that just comes so naturally to you that you’re not even aware of it but the beauty of it is that you’re someone who reaps great fruits for anyone who invests in you and values you. Some of you may literally look like a puppy in some way, if not, you give off such vibes. This does not have to be the case for all of you but even if it’s just a single feature, some of you may have it - downturned lips, puppy eyes, a certain kinda head tilt, etc. You’re someone who’s really pure and treats connections as sort of an investment which is why if someone puts in effort and invests, even if it’s not a lot, you tend to return it tenfold or at least double it, and give it back to them. This quality may have bit you in the ass in the past because despite your pure, well meaning and mature nature, and way of giving to others, and giving back to them, they ended up taking a lot in a more opportunistic manner and then started acting like they don’t need you anymore. “Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded? Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?” ‘Enough for you’ by Olivia Rodrigo could either already be or end up being a very personal song for you if you listen to it.

However, you end up experiencing rebirth through such moments but no matter how much you change and grow, even if you feel like and turn into a whole different person, you only become more pure and more yourself, if you know what I mean. Every time that you’re used or feel used after giving out a lot, every time you hurt this way, every time you’re left behind after people get what they wanted from you, you grow and somehow things start materialising for you. You’re someone who has a lot of potential and is always attracting, and when you work through these tough situations, you end up attracting more and making the most out of whatever you attract because your potential becomes activated. You’re someone who consciously, unconsciously and subconsciously has a very long term mindset. You’re a dedicated individual and you are always looking for a place to pour your dedication into. Due to how pure you are, this dedication is more like devotion. You’re not someone who gets scared and runs away at the first trial or tribulation. In fact, you have an ability to value things, people and connections so deeply, and devote yourself to them with utmost dedication that you stick around and continue staying dedicated even through really hard times but the thing is that once you’re discarded or have to walk away for whatever reason, have to stop dedicating your all and devoting yourself wholly, you become very grey about it. In the past, you used to hurt when things went this way, you still might but the more times that you have dealt with this, the better that you got at dealing with things in a stoic manner. You understand that you put your all into it so it feels like a waste when you don’t get anything out of it so you make sure you attain wisdom through it. However, you look at things very neutrally when you’re done, your ethics and wisdom matter more to you, and you do not let emotions have you connected to the past. “Nostalgia is far more deadly than any virus.” - Stephen Holstrom from the Netflix series called the ‘Pantheon’. Many of you seem to have dealt with nostalgia that almost killed you, that had you not functioning properly as a human being. So you’ve experienced indulgence in nostalgia, its effects and its consequences, and you’ve thought a lot about it too which is why you’re never going to do that to yourself again and that has turned you more heavenly. You value and treasure the present, and grab opportunities that make your future look good and not just that, you have also learned how to enjoy the process of things instead of just the end result. You make people feel competitive and envious. You trigger them in such a way that they want to undermine you. There are also people who see you as someone who lacks commitment to growth and might see you as unmotivated, and lacking in skill but the more that they observe you, the more that they spend time with you, the more that they talk to you and the more that they get to know you, the more that they feel like they’re the one who’s lacking.

You’re someone who is unknowingly very secretive and individualistic. People may not see what you’re working on or get to be a part of your life very easily. In the past maybe but now, you seem to have lost respect for multiple people and are unwilling to share your life with just anyone leading to them not having proper understanding of you so they may just assume that you’ve got nothing going for you but you do and if they manage to get close enough to you or close to someone who’s close to you, they find out about it and it just causes them to think. There are people who don’t hold any respect for you and assume that you’re inexperienced but in reality, you’re so experienced, wise and respectable that you know how to be by yourself, build things in solitude without anyone knowing about it and be yourself at all costs even if it means not having people in your life. In the past, you were overextending to someone or some people who were not prioritising you because they perceived you as someone who they could not work with, almost as if they were looking down on you. They were still using you to their own advantage but they didn’t respect or value you. Even so, you were doing so much for them because you were really prioritising them. It was not satisfying for you and you felt discouraged at times but you continued pushing yourself out of responsibility, and you had many mood swings but you still tried your best and they remember that. People tend to remember their loss of you. I feel like people remember you as someone you aren’t anymore. You used to be a disorganised mess back then and had messed up priorities (which is why you prioritised them in the first place) but they think that you’re busy now and don’t have time or energy for them anymore. The way you were so pure, dedicated and the way they didn’t even meet you halfway, the way there was no teamwork but you were still doing everything by yourself for them, they remember it. It was something that they took for granted in the past. However, it has stuck with them because such an unconditional way of giving is beyond divine. Even God wants you to worship him for a place in heaven but you gave them access to heaven, to your world, to your life just because you have a strong and pure desire to give, and remain dedicated to something, to someone. They’ll never find this again, not even in you because you couldn’t care less about them anymore. You’ve changed enough to know that you do not need to be alone in connections i.e. putting in all the work, that you do not need to overextend yourself and balance everything, that you do not need to prioritise those who aren’t doing the same for you and instead have started gatekeeping yourself, working by yourself, staying alone, carrying out responsibilities and managing time.

You prioritise working, resources and time a lot, and it is especially very important for you to have time for yourself, to have free time for yourself so you spend most of your time working and focusing on your current priorities including resources, and other than that, you spend most of your time by yourself or on yourself in some way. You do not free yourself up for others as much as you used to in the past. This leads to others feeling left out or like an outsider, some may still see you as inexperienced and not respect you because you do not show them all that you’ve built by yourself, within yourself, for yourself and for others because you express more of a youthful, compassionate, and pure side of yourself but that’s what makes you the nearest thing to heaven. You don’t show all of yourself to just everyone but you’re someone of a lot of substance. By this point, you do not have any desire to prove anything to anyone either, you’ve stayed alone for very long, you’re very comfortable by yourself, you work by yourself and have grown by yourself, and know your worth. You may seem disorganised and all over the place, also very youthful and inexperienced which is why people may underestimate you, try to undermine you, and disrespect you but you’re so firm on your character, instead of standing up to them or even letting them get to you, you continue doing your thing and your chaotic persona makes you very difficult to figure out. Like, when you’re around people, you sometimes end up acting as though you really prioritise them and you kinda do. Like, when you’re around them, it’s only them that you’re around, especially if you’re meeting them for the first few times because you see them as someone with whom a lovely connection could flourish but once you don’t find what you’re looking for, you aren’t as flexible anymore i.e. if you’re not around them, you stop engaging with them and become very busy. When you meet them again, you may act like normal but they don’t feel like a part of your life anymore. You’re someone who’s naturally giving and growth oriented but has learned how to be self focused and growth oriented overtime. However, you’re still giving where your generosity is needed. You’re the nearest thing to heaven that one has ever seen because you’re of so much value that you do not try to prove it to anyone because you think that anyone who does not see it is fooling themself and also, you work by yourself and grow without showing off, you’ve achieved so much alone, and others do not even know about it. You do not try to exert yourself and instead let them disrespect, and underestimate you because that does not take away anything from who you truly are. You also continue being a pure, compassionate, mature, grounded yet youthful person. You do not let anyone turn you into something that you’re not, you do not let them make you as miserable as them, you do not let anyone take you away from your own essence, truth and character. I’m not sure if I did you justice with my description but thank you for reading, much love and take care 💖🫶🏻.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

꒰ What makes you heavenly ? ꒱

You’re the nearest thing to heaven that one has ever seen because you are a very deep person. You’re someone who has taken a deep dive into your subconscious already. It’s not even just subconscious, you’ve also stepped into your unconscious. In fact, you have the kind of personality in which you’re naturally drawn to your own depth i.e. seeing it and understanding it, even if it means seeing the uglier sides of yourself. Some of you may be interested in psychology or anything that has to do with human behaviour. It includes various topics ranging from attraction to sex to habits to the darker sides. You’re especially interested in all of this because you’re interested in gaining deep self understanding and you want your relationships to be eerily deep as well, it’s a need for you to experience relationships with an overwhelming amount of depth. You could never do anything casual, if anyone of you has ever tried, you’ve felt suffocated and like something was going terribly wrong, and pulled yourself out of it before you lost yourself or you had to learn the hard way by losing yourself. Either way, there has been a moment in your life, likely in the past that triggered something very deep in you causing you to be exposed to your subconscious and unconscious aspects, even the ugly and scary sides, and it made you very uncomfortable. You felt scared, there were illusions, you didn’t know what to believe, you felt overwhelmed and extremely emotional. Imagine, you’re just chilling and then someone puts a bag over your head, puts you inside a sack, ties the mouth of it and throws you into the deep, dark ocean but you still somehow manage to get out of the sack, but you’re drowning and not sure what’s going on, who threw you there, what’s coming next, how to get to the land, etc. It’s difficult to even breathe, see and understand what’s going on. That’s the kind of feeling that you seem to have experienced and navigated at some point in the past. In fact, you’re still someone very deep and take this dive into your subconscious, and unconscious very often because it’s something that is a deep part of you at this point. You’ve gotten used to it and not thinking enough, not getting to the depth of things is unfamiliar to you, it does not feel right, it feels like ignorance. You have tamed aspects of yourself and you have wild aspects of yourself, and you’re deeply familiar with both because you have been driven to insanity quite frankly but when you were diving so deep into yourself and your psyche, you didn’t just find that which you found to be dark and ugly about yourself, you didn’t just find that which you didn’t like, you also found that which happened to be beautiful, that which happened to be precious, that which you happened to love about yourself, that which made you understand and love yourself deeply. It also greatly increased your capacity for love and connections.

You’re able to meet people very deeply but it’s a secret that only those who deeply connect with you know about or will know about. Most people even though they can make out that you possess of depth, you don’t give them much to work with. You’re mysterious, private and secretive. You may not realise it but you have a way of keeping things very vague despite saying and doing things that suggest that you possess a lot of depth. People seem to have many different versions of you in their mind and I think that most of them don’t have an accurate image of you. Even if they do, they don’t have enough depth in their perception of you even though, even on the surface, you’re very deep. At the depth at which you understand and accept yourself, most people aren’t able to meet you even quarter way through it. In the past, you may have thought someone understood you but then when the connection ended, you realised that they didn’t? Doesn’t have to be the case for every one of you but it definitely is, for many of you. I’m picking up on a very hyper feminine vibe here and not in the way you dress or look but instead in the way that you are, in the way that you feel and deal with emotions, and life at large. You’re very dreamy and are always doing some sort of shadow work. Like, for example, if there is a group of people who are friends with an individual who lives life in a way that you don’t agree with. Like, their values, priorities, actions, treatment of others but you still decided to engage with the rest of them despite being cautious but they left you out, mocked you, disrespected you and made you feel bad, you’re not going to show them how affected you are, you are likely not going to show it to anyone but you’re going to analyse the situation by yourself and understand your role, your mistake, you’re going to be able to recognise a pattern and break it in the future. It’s just your natural trait to find deep psychological patterns and reasoning behind your actions, and emotions, and even attach philosophy to it. Your emotions are high but so is your understanding of them. You’re very emotional because you can pick up on energy very easily. You can pick up on other people’s emotions as well. Due to how much you understand your own psyche, you understand theirs as well. You can pick up on the slightest emotional, mental and social shifts due to how intuitive you are but you still do not trust it enough yet. Compared to the past, you trust it much more but there’s a desire that you have to not act on confusion and illusion. You like to see situations through, give them the chance to prove themselves but I think this has changed greatly, you’ve started following your intuition better, if not, you’re learning the lesson of how to do so. You make others feel all sorts of ways. There’s something so beautiful, almost orgasmic (that’s just the word I heard in my mind, I’m sorry) about connecting to you but it’s so scary, confusing and overwhelming at the same time.

With you, their buried and subconscious as well as unconscious trauma, and painful memories come to their awareness and they feel emotions at a heightened state. It’s very confusing because they don’t even understand what is happening or why it is happening but it’s like, you tap into the deepest parts of them and understand them, and connect with them in an almost psychic manner. You’re a living fantasy and you cause people to feel, think, and act irrationally. You even appear in their dreams 💀. You make people feel very unstable yet understood, you bring up and touch their softest, most vulnerable sides as well as their deepest, ugliest and darkest sides. This is the most beautiful and touched they’ll ever feel but this is also the most tainted, ugly, and dirty they’ll feel but one thing is for sure, they feel seen and touched. Again, this is not the effect that you have on everyone because even though the effects are present, you’re more secretive, vague and private but those who have the privilege of experiencing you, and your energy in such a way are never the same again. They continue being confused about you, themself, love and life for years, for decades even. Due to how much you bring up and all at once, they feel burdened. It’s not like they don’t try to work through it but it’s overwhelming. I feel like you have already accepted it or at least know it by now but if you ever feel like you’re hard to love, easy to forget or have felt like such, just know that that’s not the case. In fact, it’s quite the opposite, you touch people so deeply, just anyone could not handle being with you. They need to be willing to responsibly shoulder whatever fears, traumas and awareness that you bring up, even of their uglier sides, and work and grow through them. The pressure that they feel is so intense that they just feel extremely stressed and they do try to push forward as much as possible but they just can’t. Also, I think you don’t notice it but you unknowingly put a lot of pressure on people to be and do better, to be as deep as you, to be better in their daily life, to be better in the way they think, to be better in the way they talk and act. I don’t think that it’s deliberate. In fact, you’re quite accepting of them, the good and the bad but it’s just that in order to match you, they do need to be a certain way. They need to be deep, they need to know how to deal with their most intense emotions in a deep manner in order to develop a deeper and more sound understanding of themself, and life, they need to be resilient even under all this pressure, they need to be responsible and willing to go, and grow through everything with you. Anyone who is unable to take on the pressure of everything that you bring out from within them, your standards and your depth is an unfit match for you. You make them feel exhausted, not because you are exhausting but because you bring out sides of them that need to be seen, felt, understood, worked through and healed but most people aren’t able to take on such pressure.

Most people would rather remain ignorant than grow through what they feel, think, see, understand and experience. However, you do awaken a desire for people to try but even on trying to the best of their abilities, they usually fail. People remember how original you are and how you change their views. In this world, you may have beliefs that only a few people possess. Like, for example, these days hooking up is normalised, situationships and all are normalised but you may hold beliefs that seem a bit outdated, and old fashioned but you seem comfortable and confident in them. Also, you don’t exactly fit into any end of the spectrum, you’re too modern to be considered traditional but you’re too old school to be considered modern. You’re someone who’s open minded and willing to understand but you’re also someone who reasons well, and will not bend into just any belief that’s presented to them. Like, for example, you’re christian, you may read a bible verse and think “well… in this case, I’d rather follow what the Bhagwat Gita says.” You’re really different. Also, some of you may attract those with pisces and aquarius placements. This seems to be a pattern. Like, a pisces sun with aquarius placements or an aquarius sun with pisces placements. If not, some of you possess these energies in your own chart. There’s possibly neptune, uranus, 11th and 12th house energies that may be present as well. I don’t want to go too much into placements and stuff because it’s not going to resonate for everyone here. You’re a true individual, you rebel against traditional ideas and practices that don’t make sense but you also rebel against modern ideas that don’t make sense. You have a belief system of your own that is a mix of everything and especially because you know yourself so deeply, it is true to you. People remember you as being true to yourself but you’re so difficult to figure out. However, all of this makes you divine - your depth, your understanding of yourself and others, your intense emotions, your secretive and private ways, the way you trigger others and make them feel confused, overwhelmed, and burdened but also make them feel seen, understood, felt and change them forever regardless of whether they can take on the pressure or not. Also, the way you are so different and maintain a balance between tradition, and modernity. The way you’re so ethical and cultured but also open minded but not open minded to the extent of normalising vulgarity, objectification and ignorance. You’re someone who would look at someone with an amused, disappointed yet straight face if they told you something like “feminists fought for our right to sleep around.” All of this, the way you’re so refined, the way you know yourself so deeply, the way you feel and experience life so deeply makes you the nearest thing to heaven that one has ever seen. I hope that you liked the reading and that it resonated. Thank you for reading, much love and take care 🫶🏻💕.

[eddiesxangel]

Angel or Devil? | E.M x Reader

Anonymous asked: Could i request a fic where reader comes home pissed off and angry fucks eddie and hes hooked on it so he keeps trying to annoy her or asks her how work was ect to get her riled up so she they can fuck each others brains out, her dirty talk gets filthy when shes mad and eddie realizes he likes it mean

wc: 2.7k

cw: f!reader/mean!reader, Sub/switch Eddie, dirty talk, sex toys, slight choking, female masturbation, pussy eating, p in v, cream pie. Slightly proofread… so if you see a spelling error no you didn’t… (ง •̀_•́)ง

Eddie’s head snapped up when the sound of the front door slamming shook him out of focus. You must have had a bad day because you never slam things.

Timidly, Eddie put his guitar down and walked out of the bedroom into your living room to see you slam your purse on the floor; you don’t bother to unzip your boots; you rip them off your feet and whip off your drenched coat. That’s also when he sees the crazed look in your eyes behind your soaked hair sticking to your face. Today was not your day.

“Sunshine-“

“Don’t,” you point a finger up at him; you don’t want to hear a word from your boyfriend right now.

“But-“

“No. Shut up.” You make your way to the bedroom to wash your rain-soaked clothes.

Eddie followed you apprehensively. His gut told him to give you space, but his heart needed to ensure his sunshine was okay.

“Eddie.” You huffed. He had followed you.

He wasn’t listening to you. That’s all you wanted was something to listen to you. Nobody had taken the time to hear you out at work, and to make matters worse, the barista messed up your order, causing you to be late for your team meeting. Then, to top it off, you missed your bus. Thinking that a walk might help clear your head, you set off, only to be interrupted by the ominous crack of thunder in the sky. Instead of tears, you felt a surge of rage building inside you. All you desired was some sense of control in a day that seemed spiralling out of your grasp.

“Baby,” Eddie cooed again, stocking the back of your soaked hair.

You huffed in annoyance again. He wasn’t listening, so you decided to push him down in the bed.

“Woah, baby, I’m sorry-“

You cut him off as you climbed on top of him and shut him up with a kiss. Maybe now you could be in control.

With eyes wide, Eddie didn’t know what to do, but as you gripped at his clothes, signalling to get naked, he soon realized.

Eddie didn’t understand where this came from, but who was he to question? His lady needs to take out her frustration on him and who was he to deny her? He was just but a humble servant.

“You’re taking too long,” you groan, sitting up and taking off your soaked clothes.

“It’s okay, baby, I got you. Don’t worry, Teddy will make it better.”

“God, do you always talk this much? Shut up and eat my pussy”

Eddie was stunned. His eyes were wide, yet your words went straight to his cock. You never spoke to him this way before, but he liked it. He liked you a little mean.

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes, and you give him the biggest eye roll Eddie couldn’t miss; he moaned as he connected his lips with your pussy.

With a hand gripped tightly in his hair, he was determined to make you cum asap. He had to service his girl; you demanded it. It was the sexiest thing Eddie had ever been witness to… not that you weren’t sexy every other time, but something had been unlocked in Eddie’s brain, and he didn’t want to give it up.

A feral groan leaves your throat, and Eddie can’t help but moan once again into your pussy, knowing it drives you crazy.

Your hips are grinding into his face. Usually, he would have you pinned down, but having you use him solely for your pleasure was getting Eddie off just as much.

Within minutes, you were falling apart on Eddie’s tongue and fingers. Your body shook beneath him, and you finally felt some relief.

“There you go, baby. That's it, let it go.”

With a deep sigh, you get up and walk to the bathroom without a word.

Eddie was stunned. You used him …and he liked it.

When you got out of the shower, it was like you were a different person, like the rage demon was fucked right out of you, and you had forgotten how angry you were and also how you had just left Eddie to take care of himself.

You came out, giving Eddie a big hug and a kiss like nothing out of the ordinary just happened. You told him about your day while he cooked you dinner and spent the evening snuggling on the couch.

It’s been two weeks since you stormed home that evening, and Eddie was doing everything in his power to get you to retake control, but you were not biting.

He got excited when you would make a move first, but then you fell into old habits, and he would be the one to take charge. So Eddie was doing everything in his power to piss you off.

He didn’t want to, but he needed to trigger that inner dominatrix that was hidden deep inside.

Lately, you couldn't figure out what had come over Eddie, but his behavior was really starting to bother you. He seemed to be constantly leaving the cupboard doors wide open, choosing to immerse himself in video games instead of addressing household chores. Despite promising to tidy up, he never followed through. His socks and underwear were strewn across our shared bedroom floor, and on top of everything, he seemed to be avoiding any meaningful conversation during dinner.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” You glare at him, as he doesn’t even signal that he heard you.

You've had enough of this immature behavior. You don’t understand why you're being ignored, but you've reached your limit.

“Eddie!” You slam your fork down on the table, and finally, he looks at you.

You quickly stand up, and the chair screeches against the parquet flooring. Eddie’s big brown eyes grow wider and darker as you approach his side of the table.

This was it, he thought; he’d cracked the code.

“What is your problem?” Your hands were on your hips. He thought you looked so cute when you tried being all authoritative.

“Dont know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” Eddie shrugged nonchalantly.

“Excuse me?”

“You have something to say, baby? Come on, tell me.” His tone was condescending and taunting.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“So. Am. I.” He stands, getting closer with each word. He towers over you, but you don’t care; you’re too pissed off to be intimidated.

“What is your problem!” You scream.

“I don’t have a problem, sweet thing.” He shrugs, his voice cool as a cucumber.

This only pissed you off further. He was so good at pushing your buttons, and you were falling for it unknowingly.

Your face was scrunched up and he thought it was the cutest thing he couldn’t help but hide a smirk and you caught it.

“You want to try that again?” you ask. Your faces were centimetres apart, and he could smell the fire brooding within you.

Hook, line, and sinker.

God, you were infuriated with him, but you never wanted him more badly than right now. You act on instinct and flung yourself at him. Wrapping your arms around him and kissing him harshly, so much so your lips would be bruised by the time you’re done with him.

“There she is”

“Shut up.” Your hands are all over one another, and Eddie is reeling from your actions. Finally, his little minx had come out to play.

You forced your way over to the living room, not ever breaking the kiss until you pushed Eddie off of you and down onto sofa.

“Tell what you want; I’m yours to use.” he smiles, and you can see the mischief in his eyes.

“Is that what this was all about?” you scan his body, his hard cock prominent in his sweatpants. “You like it when I’m mean?” You’re annoyed still but also turned on. Your Eddie likes it when you’re in control.

A wave of excitement washes through you at the realization that all of this was actually to get your attention.

“You like when I dom you, Teddy? Is that it?” Your voice sickly sweet as you run your hands up his thighs until you reach the crease of his hips but don’t go any further, only teasing him more.

“Yes,” he nodded his head rapidly.

A rush of arousal floods your panties.

“Good boy.”

Eddie throws his head back and reaches to palm his cock, but you swat his hand away.

“No,” you stay stern. “This is my cock”

Eddie’s head snapped back up, and you could see in his eyes that he liked your words.

“Who’s cock does this belong to?” You ask as your hand slinks down into his pants, gripping at the base.

“Me.” He smirks. He wants you to be meaner.

“Okay,” you say, standing up and walking away.

“Okay?” Eddie is dumbfounded as you leave him alone on the couch. It takes a few seconds before he gets up to follow you into the bedroom, where he sees you’re pulling out your dildo.

“What are you doing?” He asks, disappointed that you left him.

“Since you don’t think I own your cock, I’m going to use the one I bought to get me off instead.” You shrug before stripping down fully and spreading your legs open to play with yourself in front of Eddie.

“Fuuuuuuuuck, baby.” Eddie came crawling, but you stopped him with an outreached foot to his forehead.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked with a raised brow.

“Oh-I uh-“

“oh, you uh,” mocked back, and Eddie didn’t think he could get any harder.

“You are going to sit back over there and watch only, like a good little boy. If you touch yourself, I stop.”

“Baby! What? No, that’s so mean,” He pouts.

“You wanted to mean, baby; you’re getting mean.”

Eddie bit his fist and sat back obediently; never in his wildest dreams did he think you would be so confident in this newfound role.

You spread open your legs and work your fingers through your slick folds, not breaking eye contact. You can’t help but smirk when you bring the dildo to your lips, putting on a show by sucking and drowning the head with your saliva, showing exactly what you would have done to Eddie if he had complied earlier.

You hear a throaty moan from Eddie as you watch his face scrunch and his fists tighten into balls as if he were in physical pain from watching you. The way you pop the toy off your lips and slowly drag it down to your weeping hole had Eddie’s cock twitched.

You finally break eye contact when you watch yourself insert the dilo into your wet pussy before you let your head fall back into the pillow.

“Oh yes!” your hips gyrate into your thursts as you put in a show for Eddie.

You exaggerate, for Eddie’s sake. Of course, it would never feel as good as him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You evil woman”

You snap your eyes back to Eddie and smirk.

“Fuck it feels so good!” “God it’s just so big” “yes yes yes!”

Moan after moan of pleasure leaves your lips as your free hand explores your breast, squeezing it and playing with your nipple before moving down to your clit.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to run through your body; having Eddie watch you, at your mercy, was enough to fuel the orgasm, let alone the thick, veiny pink dildo that was spreading you wide open, hitting you just right with each pump.

Your pussy clamps down onto the dildo that’s deep inside of you, cuming all over it as you shake with pleasure. You don’t even hear Eddie moan as he bites his fist, trying so hard to behave and listen to your orders.

Your cum floods out of you as you slowly pull it out with a pop.

“Come here and clean it up,” You demand, and Eddie dives head first to your pussy, but you quickly close your legs, and Eddie pouts those beautiful full pink lips at you.

“This first,” You smirk, handing him the dildo you just used that’s coated in your cum.

Eddie’s eyes go wide in shock, but he takes the toy and places it in his mouth. His eyes roll back at the taste of you, and he licks and deep-throats it.

The thrill of watching Eddie place the used dildo in his mouth as he sucks it off only makes your pussy flood once again. Your hands play with your nipples as you slowly open your legs for him.

The second Eddie sees your knees parting, he tosses the dildo to the floor, and before you can command anything, his lips attach to your pussy in an instant.

“That’s right, you’re just a little cum slut aren’t you?” you can’t believe the words are leaving your lips, and neither can Eddie, but he ruts his hips against the mattress as the filthy words fill the room.

“I see you, baby. Can’t even wait five minutes without needing to pay attention to your cock” You try not to stutter as Eddie works his tongue inside your tight hole, cleaning up the remnants of cum. You watch as Eddie pops his ass up and down as he tries to get himself off, but you can’t have that, not yet.

“Stop,” You command, and Eddie doesn’t know what action you’re referring to, so he stops everything completely.

He looks up at you with those big doe eyes, mouth agape and shiny with your cum, and you almost crack a smile, but you keep your composure.

You shuffle to your knees and instruct Eddie to lie down in place of where you just were and lean over him.

“Now, baby, I’m going to ask you again. Who’s cock is this?” You slowly drag a single digit, hardly touching the soft skin of his shaft, from the base to tip and back down again. His cock was more than ready, he was so thick and long. The tip was red, and was leaking out so much precum. If you didn’t know any better, you maybe would have thought he had come already.

“Yours” He doesn’t hesitate; he needs to cum; he needs to feel your pussy around him.

“Good boy,” you say, taking your finger away so you can hook a leg over his hip and straddle him.

“I think I’ve learned my lesson.” Eddie swallows.

“Oh, is that right?” your hand slowly makes its way up Eddie’s thick throat and lands at the base of his jaw. You squeeze it ever so gently at first but slowly tighten your grip as you sink down onto his cock.

Your small hand doesn’t do anything to hurt Eddie, but the feeling of it there had Eddie pushing his hips up into you roughly.

You let out a maon of pleaser as he hits your G-spot and doesn’t stop. Thrust after thrust, Eddie has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and he will not stop until he has his way with you.

“Think you’re in control now, baby? Got you so cock drunk you can’t even speak.”

No longer did you care about being in control. Eddie was making you see stars.

“Don’t think your little toy had you feeling this good, huh?” he gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you know there will be a bunch of tiny bruises in the morning.

“Ohhhhh, Teddy!,” You scream as your second orgasm rips through you without warming. Eddie’s hips jackhammer up into you as you ride out your orgasm, and Eddie chases his. He flips you over and pushes your legs up into your chest so he can watch himself disappear into your tight little cunt.

“Fucking made f’me.” his hips snap once, twice, three times more until he spills himself inside of you.

You feel Eddie’s weight collapse on you, his heavy body limp.

“Holy shit” You breathe in the revelation of what just happened. “Was that our best sex ever, or am I dreaming?” You whisper.

“I think you broke me, baby,” Eddie moans as he doesn’t want to leave your warm wet pussy.

“That confirms it, best sex ever.” You raise his hand so you can give him a high five before his limp arm falls back down on the bed.

You can’t help but giggle, and Eddie shoots out of you, complaining it’s too sensitive to squeeze his cock anymore.

“Teddy?”

“mhm?”

“Next time you want me to take charge, just ask. I’m not keeping a messy home because you wanna get freaky.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes before he rolls your body into his so you can fall asleep in his arms.

Tagging some moots who might be interested 🫣: @xxbimbobunnyxx @bimbotrashcan @usergeta @loserboysandlithium

[thekinslayed]

Humble Servant

summary | Working under the service of king Aemond Targaryen, you were eager to attend to his every need.

pairing | king!aemond targaryen x servant!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), heavy voyeurism, unprotected sex, aemond is in his medieval fuckboy era, squirting, book!aemond-leaning, oral (f), KING AEMOND 😮‍💨

wordcount | 4.2k

note | trying to fight thru the writer's block but this writer's block got hands 😵‍💫 but it won't stope me from being at the forefront of the Aemond's Got Bitches agenda!!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! (divider graphic is from this website)

As the smoke cleared at the end of the dragons’ dance, Aemond the Kinslayer emerged as the sole victor of the tumultuous war. A brother scarred and poisoned, a half-sister eaten alive, a mother driven to madness. It was clear that the Iron Throne was his to claim. None else was suited for it more than he. His prowess was proven, his wit unmatched, and his dragon indestructible. The one-eyed Targaryen managed to subdue the ravenous Wolf, had the Sea Snake sue for peace before driving his sword through his heart, and sent the pretender’s younglings to forge their chains at the Citadel. With no other forces questioning his claim, Aemond One-Eye made himself King. 

No other Targaryen had come into this much power since Maegor the Cruel, though history would find it befitting for such a cycle to propagate with him.

You were there for it all. From the taking of little Jaehaerys’ head, the return of a burnt king, to the fall of King’s Landing, you were there. The history books would not write your name down in its pages, no, you held no part in it. You were merely a shadow, a humble servant whose head hung low in the presence of nobility. It had always been this way, and it always will be. 

It was a curious thing, wasn’t it? The better part of your lowly life had been spent in the Keep’s walls, just like any other royal, yet you were as significant as a fly on the wall of their lavish tapestries. Where they feasted on the finest game and freshest berries, you ate what was left on their plates, bones and all. Though despite it all, you dared not question your station. 

Any semblance of importance to your name came when you had been tasked with attending to the king’s chambers. The first steps you had taken towards the royal apartments made your tummy feel fluttery, nerves jittery with a rambling agitation.

Despite his status and authority, there was little fuss under the new king’s service. He was clean, tidy, a man of good manners. Aemond let his servants do his work when needed, spending most of his time out of his chambers anyway. And on the off-chance you managed to be in the same vicinity, he would only spare you as little as a blink, or a low grumble of instruction. You were invisible, while he was the center around which your day revolved. Such was the order of things.

It had become customary to keep your head low and your hands busy despite the king’s presence. Be it while he supped, read, or entertained his lady guests. 

The one-eyed king, once a prince, used to be such a stickler for propriety. While Aegon II was known for his ways of women and wine, Aemond was of honor and pride. Such things were beneath him. Until he became king.

With the heavy steel crown seated upon his brow, he’d let himself indulge. Many a woman was invited to warm his bed, be it a servant, a noblewoman… or a bastard witch, according to some. With his power came his freedom from inhibition and the caging rigidity of his self-control. With his glory, Aemond Targaryen had become gluttonous for the ways of the flesh.

“Keep movin’, lass,” Magda grumbled, balancing a hot bucket of water on her hip. This was the last trip of waddling up the stairs to Maegor’s Holdfast for the night, heaving pails for the king’s bath. He liked them particularly hot, fresh off the boil with steam billowing off the copper tub. You, Magda, and two other girls made haste to finish your work, equally eager to be done for the day and to escape the loud thumping coming from the king’s private bedchamber.

“This one’s a loud one, ain’t she?” brown-eyed Ilya snickered, busy with pouring Dornish herbal scented oils into the steaming bath. High-pitched oh, oh, oh!’s sang in rhythm with the bedframe’s pounding, echoed by an occasional deep groan that penetrated through the wooden doors separating the solar and the bedchamber. The lady’s voice only grew higher in pitch, like a wolf howling into the night. This must be the red-haired Tully you passed in the halls, or the Lannister from the feast, you weren’t sure.  

“Must be getting fuckin’ ripped in half,” said a grumpy Magda, clutching her back as she bent to pick up her pail. Her words pulled a giggle from the girls, who continued their work as usual.  You weren’t particularly unbothered like the rest of them, with the hairs on your neck raised from such a scandalous predicament. You strained your ear to hear more of the deeper, manlier grunts mixed into the elevated moans, cheeks steadily warming when you did. It made your gut feel swarmed by something inexplicable, your fingers tingly. You wondered what could it be that made the lady scream so loud in the king’s bed. Jon the stable boy certainly hadn’t made you howl as such on that one regretful night, with both of you dazed from many cups of mead. It was no passionate affair, rather, a blind stumbling in the darkness that ended with both of you rolling in the hay. Sure, it was alright, but it didn’t make you cry out like a banshee. It made you curious. 

With the last pail of water tipped into the tub, you followed the other servants out of the king’s solar. As the door behind you closed, you heard another one open, and it had taken all of your might to keep your head from turning to catch a peek at the silver-haired man.

You really thought yourself better, immune to it all, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Being at an arm’s width of the king’s proclivities had started to bother you, made your blood run hot the moment you stepped foot into his door. It had you seeing him in a different light. His scar and threatening aura may have once frightened you, but it allured you now. With his silky, waist-length hair and that trim waist, he was beautiful in ways that made you question whether he was a real being, or rather one of the Valyrian gods come down on to soil. His prolific skill with a sword was now written into song, but his strength in other endeavors was starting to make itself known. He must be one hell of a man to have all these women singing their songs of pleasure every night in his bed, and your curiosity had grown into a towering beast impossible to endure.

Maegor’s tunnels were less of a secret than the Targaryens ought it to be. The silver-haired royals weren’t the only ones wary of the passage, some servants and staff alike were privy to the winding paths that led to the ins and outs of the Keep. Years of work had granted you such knowledge, and on one restless night, you found yourself taking the sharp corners that led to the royal chambers. You had been dismissed for the day only an hour past, but an itch in your heel had you turning around and slipping into the dark passageways before anyone could see. 

It seemed you were not the first to find yourself in such a place, evident by the holes poked into the thin plaster of the king’s bedroom walls, somewhere in between the ornate carvings of his bedframe’s headboard. Some other invisible soul had stood where you did now, curious for a single peek. 

These might have been from Aegon II’s time, or Jaehaerys’. Certainly not Viserys I’s.

You couldn’t tell if it was the red-haired Tully girl or the golden Lannister. Your position granted you only a view of her lower half, and in between her thighs, was a head of silver hair. The girl was squirming like a worm on his bed, legs messing the linens you had smoothed out just this morn while a hand gripped his silver tresses. 

“What did I say?” you heard the king speak. Just barely, with his face still buried in her cunt. The grip on his hair was released, dainty hand disappeared into the periphery to presumably grab onto the sheets instead.

He didn’t like his hair touched. What a shame. 

The sight was utterly debauched. Silver tresses swayed as he nodded his head to run his tongue down her slit, which pleased the woman, evident from the mewl that echoed through the night air. Her sounds could equal that of a mistress in the Streets of Silk, and you wondered how a proper lady could know how to moan like that. 

You could see his cheeks hollow and relax rhythmically as he sucked, and sucked. Something in your belly flipped in a fluster, and your core started to tingle, as though you could feel the phantom licks of the hot, wet muscle prodding into your center. Despite better judgment, you stayed stuck on your feet, thighs starting to rub together the longer you watched. 

Supple thighs turned dimpled in his large palms. For a second, you could almost feel its warmth, trailing from the back of your thighs to wrapping around the span of your neck. The ache in your cunt was slowly becoming too much to bear, tears of slick leaving your skin damp with need. You clenched your skirts in your fists, fighting back the urge to lead them to your heat. 

The lady was humping the king’s face now, and my, what a sight it was. His aquiline nose would surely make for a good seat to slide your nubbin on back and forth. Gods, what a lucky woman. You haven’t even caught a glimpse of his handsome face once, still ardent in his efforts to devour her whole. 

You caught the way his fingers replaced where his tongue had been, his focus shifting onto her pearl. This drove the lady to near madness, her voice rising just as the other one did. With his hand steadily scissoring in and out of her, thumb drawing circles on her pearl, the one-eyed king straightened to his full height. It was then a gasp that escaped your lips before you could stop it, but remained unheard against other sounds of the night. 

His cock stood erect in attention, flushed red in the amber glow of the candlelit room. It slapped against his taut, sculpted abdomen. He was chiseled in places you hadn’t seen any other man could be. Striated, sinewy muscles that flexed with every movement. 

By the Seven, this man was a god.

Your knees nearly buckled the moment he grabbed hold of his cock. His stroking was soft compared to the erratic thrusting of his other hand into the woman’s cunt. Her hips lifted off the mattress and her back arched like a cat. Mewls were turning into sobs as she teetered on something tremendous. Your palms were sweaty, as was the back of your neck, and your chest started to heave beside your comprehension. What was he doing to her? She sounded like a woman possessed. It was clear he had an intent for his sheer intensity. 

The answer came in a shower of clear liquid coming from her core, splattering on his muscled abdomen. The king looked as triumphant as he did in battle, an egotistic smirk dimpling his elegant face. Your eyes widened in shock. Never have you experienced something like that, or have even heard of it. This man might be an actual sorcerer… or a god. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praised her. His low drawl buzzed straight into your gut, and the unanswered tingle in your own cunny had become impossible to ignore. With the image of what you had just witnessed fresh in your memory, you scurried down the steps back to the servant’s quarters.

The ache in your arm come the morrow would hinder your scrubbing of stone tile, but your desire would be temporarily satiated… multiple times.

Huffing, you dusted the last of the king’s books on his shelves. You moved to wipe down the various items around the chambers— dragon figures, the brass Seven-Pointed Star by the windowsill, keepsakes that held slivers of who he was.  You made quick work of starting the fire next, he would want the hearth going by the time he supped. As you kneeled before the fireplace, throwing in the fresh-cut wood the woodsman had brought in, the door to the royal solar slammed open.

An angry king storming into the room had you by surprise, jolting straight to your feet to give an ungraceful curtsy. Your heart hammered thunderously at such a sudden startlement, though it failed to cease at the realization of being held alone with the one-eyed king. He eyed your trembling form, a lone gaze so sharp that it rendered you unable to hold your chin up.

“Y-your grace,” you stuttered, tongue slippery with nerves. “I-I am starting on the fire, my king. It would only be just a moment.”

With a mere grunt and a wave of his hand, king Aemond left you to do your work. He was grumbling under his breath, small fragments like ‘lot of fools’ and ‘insipid questioning’ barely audible to your ear. You suspected the discussion with the Small Council hadn’t gone well. It only took little to subject the king to anger, this you learned in your time under his service. What may ticked him off could have been something of such little consequence, though, with His Grace, it never was. 

With a fire successfully ignited, a pleasant warmth began to spread into the space. Satisfied, you lifted yourself off your knees, brushing the flecks of ash from your skirts. You would have to clean that come morn.

Having completed all the work needed before supper, you quickly gathered your basket of items, willing yourself to ignore the man sat with his legs splayed open as he pored over the newest parchments. After heaving the bin onto your hip, you turned to leave with another respectful bow.

“Wait,” he suddenly spoke, stopping you in your tracks.

Wide-eyed, you swiftly turned to look at the silver-haired Targaryen, whose good eye was now lifted from the letter and, oddly enough, directed onto you. 

“My king?” you asked. “Was there anything else I may do for you?”

He was silent for a moment, calculating gaze merely stared back at you. The tips of your ears warmed in an instant under the foreign light of his attention. You swore you saw the corner of his lips lifting, but it returned to his feline pout in a blink.

“You forgot something.”

His words caught you in a stupor. You looked at him in confusion, unsure of what he meant. It didn’t help that he looked utterly ravishing with the embroidered leather doublet he wore. He looked the best in black.

His good eye glanced to the floor at the dirtied rag left at the foot of the table, the realization hitting you embarrassingly late. “Oh! Forgive me,” you expressed, quickly placing your basket back onto the floor to grab the forgotten cloth. Your skin prickled when his eye followed your every step, staring as you bent over to retrieve the rag. 

“How long have you been a servant of mine, girl?” he asked, taking you again by surprise. 

“Since the coronation, your grace,” you answered, gripping the fabric tight as you forced yourself to keep your composure in your king’s presence. Aemond merely hummed in response.

“You must know all of what I need then? What pleases me and what does not? It is the least I expect for someone serving me for this long,” he questioned, tilting his head with a raised brow. You nodded your head meekly, the entirety of your face warming, though clearly not caused by the fire.

“Magda has taught us well, your grace. Whatever else you require of me I shall be happy to fulfill,” you informed him, an eager glint in your eye that earned you another hum from your king.

“Good,” he said. “On your knees then.”

Your mouth gaped like a fish, caught in shock at the sudden command. Incoherent stammers were your only response, baffled mind unable to make sense of such progression. “Your grace? I—“

“You asked me what I require of you. Would you deny your king of his needs? I do not like repeating myself, girl.”

Dropping the cloth back to the floor, you made your way in between his thighs, descending onto your knees. You stared, wide-eyed like a doe, as he studied you under the tip of his nose. Long, wispy lashes moved with his every blink and it was then you realized the gods may have some pity on you after all. The cheap linen of your skirts was crumpled into your sweaty fists, breath shuddering when he started to pull on the laces of his breeches. Time moved all too slowly. The thumping in your chest started back up while you waited in anticipation. 

The breath hitched in your throat couldn’t be helped when his large, calloused hand pulled out his cock. It was pretty, even more appealing up close despite still being half-mast. With a hold on his base, Aemond nodded his head at you in urging. 

Gulping down your nerves, you took his slowly hardening tip into your mouth. He had a certain taste about him, a slight saltiness, perhaps bitterness, but hardly unpleasant. Slow, steady bobs of your head stiffened his length into full arousal. From his pubic bone, Aemond’s hand traveled to the coif on the top of your head, pulling the linen away. Freed locks cascaded over your back, a warmth settling on your occiput as your king gently guided you up and down his shaft. You hollowed your cheeks when you took all of him in, earning a good grunt from your king.

“Must not be the first cock you sucked, then?” he mentioned, smooth voice taking on a rasp. With your mouth full, you could only look at him under your lashes. Surely, the king had no intent to hear about young Henry and the afternoons you spent messing about in his father’s shed back home. You may be out of practice, but you were eager to please.

The reason for his sudden interest baffled you. Had you known, you would have taken the time to make yourself presentable. You were coated with a sheen of sweat after having worked all day, your clothes were a mess, and Hells, you hadn’t so much washed the parts that needed to be washed!

Your bobbing soon took up a faster pace. You kept your hands still glued to yourself despite wanting to grasp at his muscular thighs, barely remembering his preference from the other night past. He seemed to be pleased, much to your delight, with his head thrown back over the edge of his seat and his good eye closed shut. Filled with renewed courage, you directed your tongue back to his tip, while your hand stroked the rest of his shaft. The sounds you have yearned to hear soon floated into your ear, soft grunts leaving his grace’s lips. A particularly ardent lick over his cockhead had his length twitching in your hold. It filled you with pride, as well as a budding desire bubbling in your tummy. There was no doubt your cunny would be wet with slick if one took a peek. It had started shedding its tears of arousal the moment your knees hit the floor. 

All too sudden, the one-eyed king pulled you off his cock, ordering you to lose your smallclothes. You had done so in haste, nimble fingers tugging on the ribbons before he hoisted you onto his lap. From then on, you were at his mercy. He speared you onto his cock with no hesitation, bouncing you up and down swiftly. There was no moment spared for you to relish in the sensation of your king breaching your walls, though you found you had little complaints. 

You were starting to understand how he had all those women crying out for him in his bed. He was all-consuming, ravishing every bit of you until you were reduced to nothing but putty. He rendered you witless, out of body. You moved by his accord, rode him the way he liked. Before you knew it, lewd sounds soon began to spill from your lips, sounds you had never heard yourself let out.

“M-my king…” you mewled.

“Wet like the fucking whore you are,” Aemond groaned, delivering a smack to your rear that made you squeal. 

With his face closer to you than it ever will be for the rest of your life, the urge for a kiss couldn’t be helped. You dipped your head to chase his lips, but he turned his head to the side with a grunt. Firm hands soon pulled you off his lap, turning you around. 

The new position had his cock reaching even deeper into your walls. You held onto the armrests of the seat for dear life, struggling to keep up with the brutal pace your king demanded. The plump flesh of your arse met his hips in a wet smack, the sound filling the vast, quiet room. Years of working on your feet blessed you with strong thighs that held you up with every bounce.

Never in your wildest wishes did the fruit of your labors include getting fucked by your king. Was this what your life has amounted to? Would this be the only moment where you were granted a sliver of value in your measly unimportance? Shame should be what you felt, but you hardly had room for it, not when your king’s cock felt too good.

It was evident he was nearing his end, and you were barreling straight towards yours. His grip shifted to take hold of the crooks of your elbows, using you for leverage to lift his hips to meet yours. How deeply you wished to catch a glimpse of his blissed-out face, but that would mean displeasing him. You couldn’t afford to do so, not when you were teetering on the edge of your pleasure. 

Your release sneaked upon you with no other forewarning. You came with a loud cry, spilling all over his length. If Aemond held any regard for your high, he made no show of it, continuing to drill into you to chase his. The tight spasming of your walls pulled harsher grunts from his lips, and harsher thrusts. Soon enough, he was pulling out of you, painting your lower back with his spend. Thick, pearly royal speed dripped down onto your rear, warm against your flesh. Without any other moment to waste, the king pulled you off his lap, dismissing you with a breathless huff.

“That will be all. You may take your leave.”

“Where the hell have you been? This food’s about to get damn cold and I don’t need the king throwin’ it back in my face because of you!” Magda berated, rightfully angered with your tardy arrival to the kitchen. You were out of breath from rushing out of the king’s chambers, cheeks still flushed like a ripe berry. 

“Sorry, Magda. His grace’s requests held me back,” you apologized with a sheepish smile. The secret to your special service to the king would have to remain a secret, a blissful encounter you were sure to look back on with satisfaction. 

The older maid regarded you with a displeased look, before pointing to the dishes needed to be brought up to his grace’s chambers. “Just as long we keep the pretty boy pleased, aye?” 

The heat in your chest returned at her words, settling into a tingle in your fingertips. You smiled at her, eyes glinting with an eagerness that almost made the head servant raise suspicion. There was no doubt what you would do to keep your king happy. With his satisfaction, came yours.

“Aye,” you responded, nodding in agreement.

In the days that followed, you worked with an enthusiasm akin to the spark you had when you first arrived at the Keep. You spent time ensuring every nook and cranny was spotless, the king’s boots properly polished, and his bath rightfully steaming the moment he requested it. 

It would soon prove to be a foolish endeavor, but you held out hope for him to call on you once more. Perhaps he would take you on his bed, just like he did with other women. Such hopes were crushed when your king barely spared you a glance, just like he always did. In your boldness, you had even tried to meet his eye on the off-chance he came into his chambers while you were there, which earned nothing but a sharp scolding from Magda. His last exchange hadn’t even been filled with any words, but merely in the form of a steaming cup of moon tea and a few silver dragons awaiting you in your quarters.

Soon, you were reduced into a shadow once more, a figure unseen in the king’s eye. Your excitement wearied down into a dismayed chagrin, yet still, your part never changed. It was all a cycle, you realized. And with the arrival of a comely Baratheon girl into court, you were back to ignoring the pounding in the king’s walls. 

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

The Keys Of Heaven [Chapter 2: To Judge The Living And The Dead]

Series summary: Three years ago, Father Aemond Targaryen performed a miracle. Now he is a cardinal, a media sensation, and a frontrunner to be elected pope. You are a nun who has been brought to Vatican City to assist with the papal conclave. But when your paths cross by happenstance, you must both reckon with your decision to join the Catholic Church…and what you want from the future.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), references to abuse and violence, volcanoes, bodily injury, death, peril, scheming, pining, some drugs/alcohol/smoking, Catholic trivia you never asked to learn, kangaroos!

Word count: 5.7k

🦘 A very special thanks to my Aussie slang consultant @bearwithegg and also her mum (any mistakes are mine) 🦘

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @lauraneedstochill @ecstaticactus @neithriddle, more in comments! 🥰

🗝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🗝️

Here is the story of Saint Agatha of Sicily.

Born in the time of the Roman Empire, when Christians were still being burned alive and fed to lions in the Colosseum, Agatha rejected the suitors she attracted as a beautiful daughter of a wealthy family. Instead, she pledged herself to Christ: a life of simplicity and service, a vow of chastity. No man could sway Agatha from her chosen path, not even the Roman governor Quintianus, who aspired to take the fifteen-year-old maiden as his wife. So Quintianus endeavored to change her mind.

First, Quintianus threatened Agatha with torture and death. When that proved ineffective, he had her put to work in a brothel. Yet after a full month of violations, Agatha was no closer to surrendering; on the contrary, her faith only seemed to grow stronger. She prayed to the Lord for courage; she proclaimed that to be His servant was the greatest possible freedom.

Quintianus was running out of ideas. He imprisoned Agatha and ordered his torturers to devise new and terrifying forms of punishment. Bloody and mutilated, Agatha was thrown back into her cell without food or medical attention, but the Lord did not abandon her: Saint Peter, Christ’s apostle and the first pope of the Church, appeared to comfort Agatha and miraculously healed her wounds.

Four days later when the torture resumed, Agatha knew that her short time on earth was ending. She prayed aloud: Lord, my Creator, you have always protected me from the cradle. You have taken me from the love of the world and given me patience to suffer. Now receive my soul. She died in prison in the year 251.

Long venerated as a martyr and a saint in her native Sicily, Agatha was officially canonized by Pope Gregory I in the 590s. Her feast day is celebrated on February 5th. She is invoked against a myriad of horrors; among them are volcanic eruptions.

~~~~~~~~~~

“But you don’t really believe that, do you?” he says on the beach at dusk. Your parents keep telling you it’s time to go back to the hotel, and you ask for five more minutes which turn into ten which turn into twenty. You are showing Aemond your rosary, red glass beads, a sterling silver chain; he is sitting behind you, his arms reaching around so he can study the artefact with his own fingertips, his chin resting on your shoulder. When the wind blows, his blonde hair tickles your cheek and your throat; when you shiver because the sun is vanishing, he pulls you in closer. “That there was some magical guy who could heal people and walk on water and then came back from the dead? I mean, Mother’s a Catholic, and she’s always trying to get us to ride the ferry over to Rhodes for Sunday Mass. But even when I go, I can’t take it seriously.”

“I guess I don’t care if it’s true,” you decide. “I just like how it makes me feel. I like being protected, I like how simple everything is. Be kind, be humble, help others, that’s it. And I think all the different saints are neat. There’s always someone to pray to, no matter what problem I have.”

Aemond snorts. “They only added them to get the pagans to convert.”

“What are pagans?”

“People who worshipped trees and rocks and stuff. Like the Vikings.”

He thinks I’m stupid, you think, and you’re already sensitive about this; Aemond is older, taller, more clever, more sophisticated, more strong. You don’t want him to think you’re some naïve kid who does whatever your parents tell you to. You really don’t; they find your conviction just as baffling, far beyond their middle-class, tangentially-Catholic expectations: a weekly appearance at Mass with a frilly dress and tidy hair, Mum having a yarn with the neighborhood wives afterwards, sometimes Sunday roast, back to real life by bedtime.

“But, you know, maybe you’re onto something,” Aemond says, backtracking. “If it makes you happy, that’s what matters. Maybe I’ll give it another shot. Next time Mother drags me to Rhodes I’ll try to listen a little bit instead of reading a Stephen King novel the whole time.”

“Do you think I’m a drongo?” you ask timidly.

He laughs. “A what?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No, I don’t,” Aemond promises. “I think you care about something. And that takes courage.”

He’s still inspecting your rosary, running the smooth red beads through his fingers. “Do you want it? I’m getting a new one for Christmas. I already found it in my parents’ closet.”

“Sure,” he says, perhaps just to be polite. But when he takes the rosary in his own hands, he’s smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We should have a pond like this at home,” Rhaena says as she helps you cast palmfuls of pellets that smell like the ocean—fish and brine shrimp and spirulina—into clear rippling water. Because the temperature is around 12 degrees Celsius, the koi are only somewhat active, skimming around the algae-covered stones at the bottom and nibbling halfheartedly at the food pellets.

Home. Here is what she means: a convent on the quiet northside of Sydney, Mass each morning, prayers before bed each night, sprawling fruit and vegetable gardens, a colony of stray cats you’ve adopted, offices where you take prayer requests and calls from desperate people in need of help, a shelter the sisters operate for survivors of domestic violence and human trafficking, cooking meals together, singing songs, lighting candles, playing games, watching rugby and cricket on a massive tube tv from the 90s, book clubs, knitting circles, hosting visitors from other convents, always decorating for the next holiday. This is why you became a nun. As a child, you were never as close with your sisters as you wanted to be—your interests were too divergent, your temperaments mismatched—and then as they dissolved away into their boyfriends and their unis, you felt like the house was suddenly so empty. But to be a nun is to have a perpetual sisterhood, and they love the Faith as much as you do.

You tell Rhaena: “Let’s talk to Mother Maureen about a koi pond. Maybe we can get funds and pay our guests in the shelter to help us build it.”

“Just like we did with the gardens.”

“Righto.”

“I’m kind of obsessed with these habits, too,” Rhaena says, spinning around in her loose white wool. The Sisters of Charity of Australia have been wearing modest yet casual clothes since the 1980s. You each have a white habit or two stowed away for formal occasions...but here in the Vatican, expectations are very traditional.

You chuckle and shake your head. “Yeah nah, I’m not helping you with that. I miss my Levi’s.” You point at the koi pond. “Check the corners, make sure I haven’t killed another one.”

Rhaena darts around the perimeter, peeking through bushes of red chrysanthemums. “I’ve been praying all morning. I’m so worried about Sister Augustina.”

“Why? She’s the person who needs your prayers the least. She’s with our Lord and Savior. She is at peace, she is home.”

Rhaena looks at you grimly. “Is she?”

You burst out laughing. “It takes more than getting a bit aggro to be damned to Hell.” You don’t believe Hell exists at all, but you keep this to yourself. Rhaena is rather dogmatic. Nonetheless she smiles to herself, reassured.

You glance around the Vatican Gardens, knowing exactly who you’re looking for; but you don’t see Aemond. There are other cardinals walking the tuff pebble pathways, red planets revolving around the ancient gravity of this place—first Neolithic settlements ten thousand years ago, then kings and a republic and back to kings again, and finally the Church rose up from the ashes of the empire to grow like dauntless ivy into the hearts of over one billion souls—some contemplative and alone, others entangled in weighty discussions. Cardinal Seaborn is rushing around frenetically, his scarlet cassock blowing in the wind. Cardinal Bogdi Marcu, he of the prehistoric age himself, is clinging to Sister Nuru’s arm as she patiently accompanies him through the gardens.

You spot Lucky talking to Cardinal Gideon Saati of South Sudan, a large but soft-spoken man who is ideologically moderate and therefore a possible consensus candidate if neither the conservatives or liberals can win the vote; and this makes him dangerous to Aemond. Cardinal Saati is nodding and dabbing at his eyes with a white handkerchief, Lucky has a hand resting gently on his shoulder. They are rarities here, and they understand each other. They both know the pain of having a homeland that is no longer a country: no functioning government, no reliable infrastructure, inescapable violence, war zones where faith feels so powerless.

Rhaena says: “Do you think we’ll be back home by Christmas?”

“Oh, sure thing. No conclave in the past two hundred years has taken more than a few days.”

“Beautiful. We can’t miss the singing and presents. I know how much you love Christmas music.”

“One conclave in the 1830s took a month and a half.”

“Nah, yeah?!”

“Deadset, mate.”

“Wow.” Rhaena blinks. “I wouldn’t trust this lot to not resort to bloodshed by then.”

Now you see them strolling towards the koi pond, disrupting sand-colored tuff pebbles with each step: Aemond, Lando, and Kazi, who is puffing on a square-shaped vape, white and red, the colors of the Polish flag. You realize that you’re smiling as Aemond approaches, then force yourself not to. You’re supposed to be somber; you’re supposed to be sad. Still, you cannot look away from him. You gaze at the destruction on the left half of his face—ropes of scar tissue, the frayed ruins of his eyelids stitched together to close the emptied socket—and you wonder what that must have been like, waking up in his hospital bed half-blind and with clamoring journalists filling up the lobby downstairs, bouquets of flowers arriving from Alpha TV, Mega Channel, the Hellenic Broadcasting Corporation, CNN, BBC, Deutsche Welle.

“Dead nun, dead pope.” Kazi sucks on his vape bleakly. “Inauspicious.”

Lando is pained and crosses himself. “Kazi, please.” Then he turns to you and Rhaena. “Sisters, I am so very sorry for your loss. Sister Augustina is with God now, let that serve as some consolation. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

You bow your head. “Thank you, Your Eminence.”

“We didn’t really know her that well,” Rhaena says.

“Will they have a funeral here?” Aemond asks you, like he’s trying to find an excuse to make conversation. Rhaena is gawking at him, wonderstruck; Aemond gives her a polite smile.

You answer: “No, Sister Penny told us she’s being sent back to Germany. I guess there’s a cemetery near her hometown she wished to be buried in. A plot beside a child’s.”

Lando and Kazi nod and murmur sympathetically, an acknowledgement of the life Sister Augustina had before she took her vows, forever shrouded in mystery, only shadows glimpsed through the veil; Aemond peers into the koi pond, his expression distant and troubled.

Lucky arrives, trudging across the volcanic pebbles that clatter under his red leather shoes. “Saati says he doesn’t want it.”

Kazi rolls his eyes. “Every cardinal says they don’t want it. And yet when the time comes, he’s out on that balcony waving to the crowds.”

“I think he’s sincere,” Lucky says, lighting a cigar and drawing in a mouthful of smoke. “He’s telling his supporters to look elsewhere.”

“To Aemo?” Kazi asks hopefully.

Lucky hesitates. “Saati is impressed that Jake lost four fingers in the service of our Lord.”

Kazi waves at Aemond. “He lost an eye!”

Lucky chuckles in a deep, gruff rumble. “Becoming pope is not a contest of misfortune, my friend. Otherwise more of them would be Haitians.”

Cam comes jogging over; being in his mid-forties, his knees are still good. He announces excitedly: “We have Micallef and Barraza!” Here’s who he means: Cardinal Xandru Micallef of Malta and Cardinal Juan Barraza of El Salvador, both pilfered from the dwindling pool of moderates.

Lucky exhales smoke. “I thought we already had Barraza. He’s on the Dicastery for Promoting Integral Human Development with me and Aemo.”

“He told me he was considering Saati.”

“Saati doesn’t want it.”

Cam is confused. “Doesn’t everyone say that?”

“Okay, so who’s going to talk to Jake and figure out if he’s willing to steer his votes our way?” Kazi says between vape hits, and then, when Lucky raises his eyebrows at him: “It can’t be me. He hates me.”

The others groan. “What did you do?” Aemond asks, grinning.

Kazi is reluctant to share. “It was nothing.” He vapes as the others stare at him, waiting. “I asked if he was going to get a robot hand like Darth Vader.”

“Jake is very committed to his mission in Iran,” Lando muses softly. “I have a hard time believing he’d want to leave it.”

“Yeah, he does a lot of orphanage stuff, right?” Kazi says. “Lando, you should talk to him.”

“I’ll try,” Lando agrees, then looks to you and Rhaena. “Sisters, once again, I am so sorry for your loss and I will be praying for you and Sister Augustina.” He starts down the pathway and soon vanishes behind a row of tall laurel hedges.

Now Cam is relaying gossip he’s heard about the conservative faction: cardinals shifting from do Carmo to Jahoda, anxiety surrounding Aemond’s growing support. Your gaze catches on Aemond again, and you can’t look away. He keeps stealing glimpses of you too. Surely he could have had a plastic surgeon do a scar revision to make it less noticeable, and open the wound so he could insert a prosthetic eye; but of course Aemond would not want that. No one can see him without remembering what he did on Nea Kameni. He wears the proof of his miracle on his face.

You notice that Lucky is watching you as he smokes his cigar, his dark eyes kind yet intrigued, and then they rove to Aemond. You avert your attention elsewhere. On one of the narrow paved roads that wind through Vatican City, you see a white Fiat Panda zoom by on the other side of the foliage, employees running some errand.

“If I have a heart attack or choke on a fish bone or something, wait for the ambulance, don’t put me in one of those,” Kazi says. “They’re fire traps.”

“We’ll just throw you down the nearest manhole,” Cam assures him.

“Cardinal Targaryen!” a voice booms—ostensibly friendly, undeniably threatening—and it is Cardinal Jahoda, passing by with his ever-present companions Cardinal Auclair and Cardinal Ferrari. Across the gardens, red-swathed men stand up straighter and observe intently. “You enjoy the company of women so much, perhaps you have chosen the wrong vocation.”

Aemond smirks tauntingly. “Well, the celibacy requirement might soon be done away with, as you know. One of so few ways in which Cardinal Auclair has proven himself a progressive.”

Auclair scoffs. “Are there even any Catholics in Greece?”

“There are more than there were three years ago.”

“Cardinal Nowak,” Jahoda says to Kazi. “You are a Slav. Poland still lives under the gloom of Russia’s shadow. It disappoints me more than I could ever express, seeing you standing here with men who wish to usher in disorder, degeneracy, alliances with despots.”

Kazi sighs. “Brothers, not everything is communism.”

“Ah, you are too young. You do not remember what it was like.”

Auclair’s cold blue eyes skate over Cam and Lucky. “Mongolia. Haiti. Who would wish to follow the examples of your countries?”

Lucky explodes: “Why don’t you atone for what France did to my people?!”

“The prime minister acknowledged that the independence debt was an injustice—”

“And where is the apology? Where are the reparations?!”

“Still begging for money two hundred years later,” Auclair sneers. “Still sniffing for scraps like dogs. Perhaps it is time to look inwards and interrogate your own behavior. It is not a shortage of funds that ails Haiti, but a deficit of morals.”

Lucky drops his cigar and lunges for Auclair, but his friends stop him: Kazi and Cam fill the space between them, Aemond throws an arm across Lucky’s shoulders and whispers something to him as Cardinal Jahoda and his companions continue on through the gardens. Auclair looks back once and gives you a critical, probing glare. Kazi trots after Cardinal Ferrari making race car noises: vroom vroom vroom.

Cam mutters as he cleans his eyeglasses: “Mongolia is on the rise. It’s a capitalist democracy.”

“They’re not white, so it doesn’t count,” Lucky says, collecting himself. Then he checks his watch, a small face with a simple leather band. “The next general congregation is beginning soon.” He starts to leave with Kazi and Cam in tow, but not Aemond. Lucky turns around. “Aemo?”

“I’ll catch up to you,” Aemond replies. Lucky nods; but now when he looks at you, his interest has turned to trepidation.

Aemond shouldn’t be talking to me, you think, you know. But perhaps he is willing to risk it. Perhaps he believes he is invincible.

Now the two of you are alone except for Rhaena, who is gaping at Aemond as if still trying to convince herself he’s real and not a celebrity entrapped in a photograph, a screen, a myth.

“You must be very busy with your responsibilities here, Sister Rhaena,” Aemond says.

“Oh yeah, it’s hard yakka.” Then she realizes he’s waiting for her to leave. “Have a good one!” she calls over her shoulder as she hurries away, doubtlessly in great anticipation of all the stories you’ll tell her later. But you won’t share everything.

“Should we walk?” Aemond asks, his hands behind his back, his large gold cross gleaming on its chain, a whisper of a smile on his lips. Of course you should; you follow him, the tuff pebbles crunching under your shoes. And when he speaks to you now, he is not stony like he is sometimes around the other cardinals, or barbed or coiled or sharp. He is that boy from the beach again. He listens, he cares. “Are you really alright?”

“Yeah. I only knew Sister Augustina for a week. It was a shock to find her like that, and now Sister Penny is under the pump trying to take over for her, but we’ll manage.”

Aemond is studying the marble statues you pass as you wander together: Saint Rita, the patron saint of impossible causes and suffering women, Saint Catherine who freed herself from the breaking wheel, Saint Lawrence who was roasted alive. Fountains trickle and evergreen shrubs rock in the brisk December breeze: boxwood, rosemary, myrtle, oleander, holly with vivid blood drops of berries. Aemond stops when he finds a statue of Saint Agatha and gestures to a nearby stone bench. Once you sit down, he joins you.

“It’s your saint,” Aemond says. He reaches into one of the pockets of his cassock and produces a lighter and a pack of Karelia cigarettes. “Do you mind?”

“No wukkas. Half the nuns in my convent smoke.”

Aemond smiles to himself as he lights his cigarette. “No wukkas,” he echoes, amused.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Of course.”

“What led you to the Church?” you say. “Now that all the memories are coming back, I recall you being...skeptical.” That’s a gentle word for it. You imagine him: a boy, sullen and convinced he is too smart for religion, dragged to the cathedral by his Mother, flipping through a copy of Cujo or The Shining or Pet Sematary.

“Once I opened my mind to Catholicism, I found it sort of inspiring. The Church sponsored Michelangelo and da Vinci, founded the first universities in Europe, shaped the political landscape of the world. And for people without other routes to safety and status, it provided that. I never really felt seen by my parents. The Church gave me a new family.”

He didn’t say he loves the Faith. Saint Agatha gazes impassively down at you, her arms crossed protectively over her own chest, so young, so vulnerable. “Do you ever regret becoming a priest?”

Aemond shrugs, like he’s wrestled with the question so many times it no longer interests him. “The more conversations you have, the more confessions you hear...the more you realize that everyone regrets things. Mothers regret their children. Childless women regret adoptions and abortions. Married people regret the cage that vows begin to feel like after the novelty has worn off, single people regret their loneliness, the poor regret not selling their souls and the rich regret not defying greed to become artists or musicians or actors. There is no escape from regret. You must learn to feel at home in whatever cage you’ve built around yourself.”

You smooth the white wool of your habit so you have something to preoccupy your hands with. “I wasn’t entirely truthful about my reasons for being here.”

Aemond furrows his brow. “You’re assisting with the conclave.”

“Yes and no.”

He takes a drag and tilts his head to the side as he waits for you to continue. He does this a lot when you’re alone with him, always curious, always silently working things out, and you are struck by an abrupt and violent attachment to him—every gesture, every word, the blue of his eye, a lungful of smoke—and you think nonsensically: What if we had never left that beach?

You admit: “I’ve been having doubts.”

“About the Church?”

“About being a nun.”

Aemond is watching you, an intense sort of focus, like the Second Coming and the resurrection of the dead are over and you’re the last two people on earth. “You’re thinking of leaving?”

“I’ve heard this is the hardest time,” you say, smiling a little ruefully. “When you’re young like Rhaena, everything is new and exciting, and you’re so relieved to have all the answers to life’s questions that you don’t really feel the opportunity costs. And then when you’re in your fifties or sixties, you’re settled down and complacent, and you’re not interested in abandoning your work and the friendships you’ve made. But I’m thirty-eight...and that’s kind of my last chance to start over, isn’t it? At least when it comes to...certain things.”

Aemond is trying to understand, but he seems bewildered, maybe even alarmed. His cigarette has burned down to ashes, but he hasn’t noticed yet; when it singes his fingers, he flicks the end of it away. “Do you feel called to be a mother?”

“Not exactly, I just...I feel...” You pause to decide how to explain it. “I have this sense that there is something else out there for me. Someone else, I guess. And it wasn’t like this for a lot of years. I thought I was at peace with never being married. I used to see couples or families walking around and not feel anything but joy for them. But now there’s...there’s yearning, I think.” Then you chuckle nervously. “And I don’t just mean the physical aspect. That’s part of it, of course. But what I’m really missing is the...the emotional closeness, the bond that’s shared between romantic partners. All the sudden there’s an absence I wasn’t aware of before. And the only time I’ve ever experienced a pull like this was when I knew I wanted to be a nun, so I’m not sure what to do with it.”

Now Aemond’s hands are knitted together, tense and rigid, as if he is trying to resist wringing them. There is pink in his cheeks, a faint gory bloom, a rare disclosure of his mortality. He’s made of blood, not stone, not light, not predestination. “I suppose there is always some...temptation in the unknown.”

“Oh no, I���m not...” Again, you laugh. “I didn’t take my vows until my twenties. I had jobs, I took classes at the TAFE, I’ve dated, I’ve been to clubs, I’ve downed more pornstar martinis than I could possibly count. I’m not innocent.”

He seems relieved and relaxes a bit. “Then we had a similar path.”

“Because I wanted to...you know...I wanted to be sure I was alright with giving up that part of my life. I liked those blokes, and we had fun together, but I never felt it was something I couldn’t live without.” You stop for a moment; your next sentence comes out in a rush. “And then I had a bad experience with a boyfriend, and after that I was positive I could give it up, so.”

“A bad experience?” Aemond waits for you to elaborate. You don’t. His eye flicks from your face to your medallion, to the nearby statue of Saint Agatha, back to your face. He isn’t just searching. There’s a low, arcane wrath like chambers of magma scorching beneath the earth.

“Anyway, back in Sydney I confided in Mother Maureen about how I was feeling, and when the Holy Father passed she suggested I come to the Vatican. She said that if being here at the heart of the Church during such a joyous time—seeing the rituals, meeting the cardinals, witnessing the inauguration of the next pope—didn’t renew my commitment to my vows, then I would know it was the right decision to leave.”

Aemond is still distracted. “And has God spoken to you?”

“Oh, He’s saying something. But I’m not sure what yet.”

There is the sound of harried footsteps on the pebbles, and Sister Penny sprints into view. Strands of frizzy red hair have escaped from her veil; her pale freckled face is flushed. “Sister!” she cries, gasping for air. You leap up off the bench and rush to her.

“Sister Penny?”

“Where on earth did Sister Augustina keep the laundry detergent? I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find it, and I have a million other things to do, and I’m going absolutely mad—”

“I know where it is,” you say. “It’s in one of the cabinets in the kitchenette. I know, it’s odd, I’m not sure why she put it there. Here, I’ll help you.”

“And Cardinal Kelly lost his room key, so I gave him my copy but he forgot to return it and I don’t know where the spares are—”

“Shh. She’ll be right, mate.” You’re rubbing her shoulder. Sister Penny is in her fifties, very kind, very sensitive, not a particularly gifted administrator. But she has the most seniority after Sister Augustina, and so she has inherited her responsibilities whether she likes it or not.

You return with Sister Penny to the Domus Sanctae Marthae, but first you peer back at Aemond and give him a wave, subtle enough that Sister Penny will not notice. You aren’t supposed to be friends with a cardinal; that’s like a mouse befriending a lion. Aemond, now standing, waves back. But on his scarred face is something you rarely see from him, a doubt that is bone-deep and powerless.

Soon you’re sweeping through the cardinals’ rooms with Rhaena, tidying things up, making beds, wiping down bathrooms, beard hairs clogging the sinks and stray piss drops on the floor. But Aemond’s room is immaculate. You send Rhaena into the bathroom to see if he needs more shampoo or conditioner or toothpaste, and in the few seconds she’s gone you lean down over Aemond’s bed and breathe him in: smoke and cologne, vanilla and amber and cinnamon, and salt too, like something made him sweat through his clothes.

The stomach is an elastic organ—the more you eat, the more it wants—and lust is the same way, so you try not to feed it. On the rare occasions you find yourself too...distracted, that is easily remedied: a detachable showerhead, a hand slipped under the elastic waistband of your pajama pants. But now it all comes pouring back in, fifteen chaste years’ worth of longing, perhaps a lifetime’s worth, and you try not to imagine his hands covering you: a white veil gliding over your hair, sand on wet skin.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s night, and you are in Saint Peter’s Basilica, closed to the public until the conclave has concluded. You are here because the acoustics are good: you can hear the crowds out in the square singing The First Noel as they hold their candles and their handmade signs—God bless the Holy Father, Miracles are real, Pro-life and proud, Cardinal Targaryen for Pope—and you close your eyes as you listen. You love Christmas music, and without phones or radios, this is the only way you can get it.

The vaulted stucco ceiling is plated with gold. The floor is made of white marble and sand-colored travertine and crimson porphyry, red like lust or wrath or pride. Here is a fountain held up by cherubs, there is a basin taken from Emperor Hadrian’s tomb, there is monument to Pope Alexander VII adorned with the personified virtues of Truth and Love. And everywhere are depictions of keys; Saint Peter is the keeper of the keys of heaven, given to him by Christ. The leadership of the Church changes hands again and again, but the mission lives on, eternal, divine, pure despite the complexities and failures of mankind.

Occasionally, you hear the shuffling footsteps of cardinals as they pace the echoing corridors seeking God’s guidance. Cardinal Marcu, stooped and shaky, stopped to have a yarn with you perhaps half an hour ago; he seemed to be under the impression that Barack Obama is still the president of the United States. You are grateful that cardinals aged eighty and older are not permitted to vote in the conclave.

Your eyes are still closed when someone brushes up against you, a hand grazing across your hip, too light a touch to be intentional. You instinctively gasp and flinch away.

Aemond steps back, holding up his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says uncertainly.

You laugh when you see it’s him, pressing a palm to your pounding heart. “No, I’m sorry, I just startle really easily.”

He’s still bewildered. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I thought I barely—”

“No, really, it’s alright. I just...when people touch me and I can’t see it coming, it just freaks me out. But I’m fine now.”

His eye travels down to your medallion—Saint Agatha carved into plain, unprecious iron—and then he turns fierce. He moves towards you, drops his voice, demands as he stands so close his smoke and cologne seeps into your lungs: “Who was he?”

“It doesn’t matter, Aemond.”

“It does. What was his name?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Because I want to know.”

“So you can have him murdered?” you mock, and Aemond sighs and rubs his scarred forehead. “You aren’t asking for honorable reasons.”

He shakes his head and stares at the wall, centuries-old marble and gold, hot blood in his face, rage pulsing in his carotids and his jugulars.

Your voice is calm, because this is a truth you’ve lived with for fifteen years; it’s a part of your mental scenery, something you know happened but not something you feel anymore, aside from primeval muscle memories that never seem to die. “It wasn’t something I could have proved in court. He said if I told anyone, he would kill me. And then he got pulled over for drunk driving, and when they searched the car they found unregistered guns, and while he was in jail I packed my things and moved down to Sydney and showed up on the doorstep of the convent. And everything was okay after that.”

“He should have suffered,” Aemond seethes.

“I moved on. I had to. And that saved me, having a life that was mine. That I chose, that I had always wanted. The Lord tells us: Refrain from anger, abandon wrath. Do not be provoked, it brings only harm. And that’s true.”

“But what if you didn’t join the Church for the right reasons? What if it was just an escape for you, or some sort of trauma response—?”

“Why did you join the Church, Aemond?” you say. “So a billion people would love you?” He turns away, exasperated, but he doesn’t object. “You don’t get to question my motivations. Not when I have felt called to the Faith since I was a child.”

He breathes deeply, touches his palm to the gold cross that hangs from his neck, and looks at you again. “If I was the pope, I would help people. Lucky knows that. They all know that.”

“But that’s not why you want it.”

Several long hushed moments slip by like sand through your fingers. From outside, you can hear the crowds are now singing O Come, All Ye Faithful. Aemond says softly: “I shouldn’t have left you.”

He can’t mean that. It’s preposterous. “What, when you were twelve?”

He doesn’t respond.

Now your words are gentle. “I’m alright, Aemond. Really. You just caught me by surprise, I’m fine now. I’m not afraid of you or anything. Here, look.”

You reach out and take his hand, and instantly you know it was a mistake. There is a blazing light that fills your skull, a burning martyr, a revelation: you can feel him pulling you in and the heat of his face beneath your fingerprints, soft lips, rough scar, his palms circling your waist, your white veil falling away as he pulls the pins from your hair, the thirty-three buttons of his cassock unfastened and then—

But before any of this can happen, you jolt away from each other, Aemond clasping his hands behind his back and you clinging to your iron medallion. On it are engraved Saint Agatha’s words to God: I am your sheep, make me worthy to overcome the devil. And from across the space between you, a few footsteps that might as well be twenty-nine years, you and Aemond gaze at each other with terror, with wonder.

You don’t feel too old to start over.

You feel like your life is just beginning.

[oreolemur]

The Lady's Butler

"Is your tea hot enough, Mistress?", the handsome butler asked. Sebastian has been working for you for years, never taking his demon eyes off you. "Is there anything else you want, my lady?", he questioned. "Yes, Sebastian. You wouldn't mind making my nightly bath would you?", you asked, taking a sip of your tea. "It is my duty as your humble servant to make your bath as enjoyable as possible, Mistress", Sebastian bowed, showing his handsome and devilish smile in a seemingly innocent way. "How many rose petals would you like me to place? A light scented water or perhaps even oil?", he asked, leaning closer to you. Watching him get closer, you slightly blushed. "Y-yes...a touch of oil would be nice. And....", you paused. "A nice glass of wine would suit it perfectly". Sebastian's smile grew wider. "Of course, Mistress", he answered, bowing once again. "I shall prepare your bath with some oil and a glass of wine. Would you like anything else, my lady?", he asked. 

You shook your head, "No, Sebastian", you said. "You've done nothing but enough for me tonight", you stated. "You are very kind, Mistress", Sebastian smiled and then walked away with a swift motion. You soon heard running water coming from the bathroom, which was usually the indicator that Sebastian had begun preparing your bath. The butler soon returned with the wine and prepared the bath, adding the scented oil and the glass of wine to the tub, then he left the room, waiting for you to call him so that he could assist you with your bath. As you finished up dinner, you stood up, heading to the bathroom. "Sebastian?", you called him. "Yes, Mistress", Sebastian quickly answered, his demon eyes darting towards you with a lustful glint. He was leaning against the door frame, waiting for you to enter the bathroom. Sebastian's appearance was always perfect, from his hair to the uniform, which fitted his physique perfectly. He was ready to help you with whatever you desired, he was your humble servant, after all.

"Would you mind...undressing me? I'm much too tired to get this hellish dress off myself", you asked. Sebastian's eyes stared at you intently. "Yes, Mistress", he replied, walking towards you and then gently taking your dress off. "May I ask one favor though?", he then asked while untying the dress from the back. "What favor shall you ask, Sebastian?", you replied. "I was wondering...may I stay and watch?", he asked, his devilish eyes twinkling with desire, although he still managed to maintain his stoic composure, he couldn't contain himself completely. Unfazed by his question, you simply accepted it. "Yes you may. I might need you to bathe me", you smiled sweetly. Sebastian's face lit up into a wide smile. You knew that he was eager to help you with anything, as his loyalty to you knew no limits. He didn't just obey, he enjoyed satisfying any of your desires. "At your service, Mistress", he then bowed and followed you to the bath and waited for you to enter. Sebastian took your hand into his, helping you into the tub.

Sebastian made sure to give you enough space to settle comfortably in the tub before he took the glass of wine and poured the liquid into the water, letting the scented oil and the scent of wine take over the tub. Sebastian's eyes stared at you with desire; he wanted to keep staring from afar, but he had to keep up his servant attitude after all. As you watched him pour you glass, you offered him some. "Would you like a sip, Sebastian?", you asked, handing the glass to him. "You've worked so hard for me, at least relax a little". Sebastian's gaze shifted to the glass of wine for a moment, before he looked back at you with his devilish gaze. "I cannot refuse a drink from my Mistress", he responded, taking the glass with grace and taking a few sips. He was eager to do anything for you, but drinking from the same glass as you was one of those rare moments that he wouldn't miss.

Sebastian's eyes followed your every movement, observing every gesture and every curve that your body made as you relaxed in the bath. His breath shortened and his stare became less steady, his desire becoming more and more evident as he continued to drink from the glass. It was already clear to you that he desired you, but this was rare behavior for a simple servant. You knew deep down Sebastian loved you, but you tried not to let him know that you knew. "Can you hand me a washcloth, Sebastian?", you asked. "Yes, Mistress", Sebastian replied, quickly picking up the cloth and handing it to you. Although his desire for you was becoming evident, he made sure to control himself at all times. A simple servant was not supposed to make a move on the Lady of the house, but he was tempted to cross that line. 

"Thank you", you said, taking the cloth from him. As you lathered it up with soap, you couldn't help but notice Sebastian staring at you. "Is something wrong?", you ask, looking at him with lustful eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost". Sebastian didn't expect you to be so direct, as he was trying to hide his lustful intentions towards you. His gaze followed every motion that you made, and he seemed to be captivated by what he saw in front of him. "I was simply amazed by your beauty and grace, Mistress", he then replied politely, albeit his tone and body language were giving away his true feelings. "Why thank you, Sebastian", you said, proceeding to wash yourself. You allowed the butler to watch you bathe. Sebastian's eyes never left your body. 

The butler's eyes could not help but follow your every movement, he had to control himself as a servant, but these feelings he had towards you were becoming harder to hide by the moment. "Could I ask you one thing, Mistress?", he then asked softly, still maintaining his composure, as your body enticed him even more when washing yourself. "Yes?", you said. "May I help you wash?", Sebastian asked, his gaze following your body from head to toe and back again, he couldn't help but imagine touching you. "I would make sure to be extremely gentle", he then added, his gaze still piercing through every inch of your body. Without giving him a direct answer, you handed the washcloth to him. Sebastian took the cloth from you and started to bathe you. 

Although he was just a servant, the fact that you allowed him to touch your body was a huge turn-on for him. His fingers were gentle and his motions were steady, making sure to caress every inch of your body, especially whenever he washed away a small drop of soap that he had let fall on your breasts. Sebastian was a gentleman after all, but the mere fact that he was allowed to touch you was already enough to drive him crazy. "You have such soft hands, Sebastian", you complimented him. "Thank you, Mistress", Sebastian answered in a low voice. His attention had shifted to your body once again, he couldn't help himself but appreciate your beauty. He then focused on your curves, letting his hands gently move through them as they cleaned away all the remaining soap that still covered your body. "I feel clean now, thank you", you said, removing his hand. 

Sebastian took his hand back and put it at his side, but his eyes were still on your body, trying to memorize every detail of your feminine curves. "May I ask you one thing, Mistress?" he then questioned. "Yes, Sebastian", you said. "May I...cuddle with you?", Sebastian confessed. It was not common for a butler to ask such a thing, but the fact that you allowed him to touch and bathe you had awakened his desires. He knew he would probably be punished if anyone found out, but he just couldn't stop picturing you and him in bed, embracing each other. "As lonely as I am, I wouldn't mind", you said. "After all, I am quite fond of you". Sebastian's devilish smile returned. The fact that you were not only allowing him to touch your body, but that you had also confessed to liking him was more than enough to drive him crazy. "Truly?", he asked, slowly approaching you. "Yes", you replied. 

Sebastian gently took your hand and helped you to get out of the tub. He then looked at you, your curves were still wet and shiny, the moonlight passing through the window illuminated your body. His desire for you was getting the better of him and his breath shortened...his demon eyes observed every inch of your body...he was dying for a kiss. As you dried yourself off, you ordered Sebastian to wait for you in your bedroom. Sebastian took a deep breath, but he didn't hesitate to obey for a second. Although his desire was still burning inside him he knew that he had to control himself. He patiently waited for you in your bedroom, eager to see how the night would unfold. 

You put on your red silky robe, making your way into your  bedroom. You stood by the door, admiring Sebastian's tall physique. "Undress for me, Sebastian", you ordered. Sebastian's eyes widened, his body trembled slightly from your order, he was not expecting you to be so direct. His devilish smile quickly returned and he then began to quickly remove his uniform, one piece at a time, until he was completely naked. His muscles were toned and his body was perfect, the demon butler had a body to envy. He then stood before you, the desire to touch your body almost uncontrollable. As Sebastian approached you, you grabbed hold of his hand, leading him to the bed. "Lay down", you said. 

Sebastian's heart was pounding as he was led to the bed. He had pictured himself laying next to you countless times, but now it was actually happening. "Yes, Mistress", he said, quickly laying down and waiting for your next order. You took off your robe, "You know, Sebastian...", you paused. "This would be my first time having sex", you said. Sebastian's eyes widened, the fact that you hadn't been with another man before was quite tempting and appealing to him. The very thought of being your first excited him in a way he couldn't describe. "Really?" he then asked, his eyes following your every move. "Yes, is that surprising?", you asked, getting on top of him. You hovered over Sebastian's face, your noses almost touching. "Not really, considering your beauty and poise", Sebastian then said, his breath shortening as he looked up at you. You were the definition of a desirable woman. His eyes then locked onto yours, his demon eyes penetrating through you as you got on top of him. His lips were parted, the desire to kiss your perfect lips almost consuming him. "Good", you said, leaning into him. You kissed Sebastian's soft lips.

Sebastian's breath hitched as your lips touched his, and the feeling seemed to last forever. The desire he had been hiding for so long finally found an outlet in your passionate kiss, and his desire finally boiled over as his hands gently caressed your back. "How I've awaited to taste those lips..." he then whispered, giving you another passionate kiss. Sebastian's smile returned as when he flipped you on your back. He saw the way that your face became red as he made eye contact with you, he was having the time of his life, it had been so long since he had felt this way. He then lowered his lips to your neck, his breath brushing against your neck as he kissed the skin, making your body shiver slightly. “S-Sebastian…” you moaned. The butler chuckled, “Are you enjoying yourself, Mistress?”, he asked. You nod your head, enjoying Sebastian’s touch.

The demon moved from your neck, down to your stomach, then to your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses as he went down further. He grabbed hold of your legs, gently caressing your thighs. “May I?”, he asked, looking up at you with a smile. You slowly opened your legs, allowing him to do as he pleased. The butler watched as your already soaked cunt leaked with lustful juices. “Thank you, Mistress”, he said, proceeding to touch you. You felt his cold fingers make contact with your sensitive clit, causing you to twitch. “Y-your hands are cold, Sebastian”, you said. He apologized for the temperature, warming his hands up with his breath. Once they were warm enough, he touched you again. His fingers gently pinched your bud, sticking out his tongue to start licking. He slowly licked your clit, drawing circles around it. The sensation he gave you felt like heaven. 

Sebastian sucked on your clit like a ring pop, making your lower half rise up. “Please, Mistress”, Sebastian said. “Please be still”. You ignored him as you continued to move. The butler had no other choice but to hold your waist down as he resumed back to pleasure you. “Sebastian…”, you whimpered. His strong hands held you still, making it hard for you to move even the slightest bit. He looked up at you, admiring how beautiful his Mistress looked. His licks turned to sucks and then back to licks again. The stimulation was too much for you to handle. “I’m close, Sebastian”, you moaned. “I’m so close”. Sebastian quickened his pace, but felt playful at the same time. He would start and then stop, creating  a pattern of pleasure. You groaned in annoyance as he edged you on. “Please let me cum”, you begged. “I order you to let me cum”. 

Little did you know that in bed, the role of servant and master didn’t matter to him. He wanted complete control of you, no matter how much you squealed and whined. Sebastian didn’t stop teasing you, instead he made it worse by sticking his fingers inside you. He wanted to feel just how tight his Mistress was. You moaned loudly as you felt him penetrate you with two of his digits. “Ah shit”, you whined. Without  a minute to go by, you immediately came all over Sebastian’s face. “Oh my”, you said. “I’m sorry”. The butler smiled at you, pleased that you enjoyed it. As he stood up, you noticed how hard he became. “Sebastian?”, you called out. “Yes, Mistress”, he replied. You sat up, scooting towards the end of the bed where your butler was standing. Your mouth watered at the sight of his huge cock. “M-may I?”, you asked out of embarrassment. You didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of sucking his dick turned you on even more. “If you’re ok with it, my lady”, he said, glaring down at you. 

You took his cock into your hands, stroking it slowly. “Is this ok?”, you asked. Knowing how inexperienced you were, Sebastian reassured you that it was ok. “Do what you like, Mistress”, he said. You took out your tongue, licking his shaft from the base all the way up to the tip. His cock oozed with precum as you gave the tip small licks. “You taste good”, you complimented him. “So did you, my lady”, he smiled back. After licking him some more, you finally decided to put him into your mouth. You tried to fit all of him in you, but you couldn’t. Once you got down halfway, you started to gag. “Are you ok, Mistress?”, the demon asked. You gave him a thumbs up. “This is my first time having dick in my mouth. I don’t want to mess this up”, you thought. You tightened your mouth around him, bobbing your head back and forth. You sucked him hard, making sure to put in as much effort as you can. 

Sebastian moaned, feeling your soft tongue slid against his cock. Your mouth was warm and wet, making the head feel amazing. Drool leaked out of your mouth as your sucking became sloppy. You made sure that your butler was well taken care of. After all, you do love and appreciate everything that he does for you. Looking up at him, his head was pointed towards the ceiling. It was clear that he was enjoying this a lot. The longer you sucked, the more tired your mouth grew. You took him out, proceeding to jerk him off. “My mouth got tired”, you said, looking up at him. Sebastian stopped you. “My lady…”, he paused. “You should never tire yourself trying to please me”. Sebastian cupped your face, leaning down into you. He kissed your wet lips, slipping his tongue inside. 

He gently guided you back onto the bed, making sure you were underneath him again. The butler kissed your lips, then your cheek, then he began to kiss and suck on your neck. He marked your flesh, making you his forever. He grabbed hold of his cock, positioning it on your wet folds. He rubbed it against your soaked cunt, trying to lube himself up. “Are you ready, Mistress?”, he asked, staring deeply into your eyes. You looked down at his cock, spreading your legs even further. “Yes, but please be gentle, Sebastian”, you said. He tilted his head to the side, giving you  a warm smile. “Anything for you, my lady”, he said. With that, he slowly thrusted into you. “Ow”, you winced. Sebastian stopped. “Shall I continue?”, he asked. “I can stop if it becomes too much”. You ordered him not to. Sebastian proceeded, putting all of his length in you. The two of you made sweet love to each other, embracing how close the both of you were. “I love you, Sebastian”, you said. “I love you too, Mistress”. He leaned into your ear, kissing it softly. You felt the sweat from his body drip onto you. Sebastian knew how to take care of you, making him the perfect butler. “You’re mine forever”, he whispered into your ear.

[jweekgoji]

Hi can I request for yandere Sentinel Prime x maid femme s/o please

Yandere!Sentinel/Femme!Maid!Reader [TFO/hcs]

tw: yandere themes, jealousy, possessive behavior, power imbalance, master/servant relationships, mentions of objectification of reader (from Sentinel's side), controlling behavior. word count: ~1300 additional tags: cogless!reader (but I didn't state reader's height just so it will fit for everyone ig), cybertronian!reader, femme!reader, maid!reader. a/n: It's funny, but in the ± official Transformers comics, at least Nightbird, Starscream and Windblade had some sort of maid job.

I can imagine Sentinel already having a bunch of maids, running up the tower while he's too 'busy' being a Prime.

Knowing Sentinel, and his obsession with appearing like a real Prime, it's not surprising that as soon as he gets his high title, he surrounds himself with a bunch of servants who humbly work for him.

If he wants to live like a real king, then he definitely needs assistants to provide him with constant comfort.

In fact, it amuses me to think that the original thirteen Primes didn't worry about such things. Sure, they were busy on Cybertron, constantly creating new things for a young, future race, but having maids? Yeah, well, no, thanks.

After Prime takes his position, like I said, he immediately surrounds himself with trusted confidants. Airachnid is also a very good help at this point. She may not be quite the 'social' bot that she seems at first glance, but her perceptiveness can easily crack any potential rascal.

Such a concept as 'maids' hardly existed on Cybertron, so the term came right after the Sentinel → Prime.

↑ Most likely, like miners, no one thought about their need until the newly elected Prime decided to introduce a new class.

↑ Given that, there's a good chance that bots that play the role of maids aren't as high just like miners, so it's a likely that maid bots won't have t-cogs either. Poor things.

I'm not sure if it got that much popularity among the rest of Cybertron's elite, but at first the rest of the Iaconians were surprised.

↑ Like, we definitely need a new class of bots that will be used every day as servants and will suffer from the elites? Really?? But yeah...! Knowing how much they idolize Sentinel, I wouldn't even question such a decision.

Sentinel is pretty careful about who he accepts into his inner circle, so naive, incompetent, but utterly respectful bots are exactly what he needs.

This bastard can watch for hours, sitting in a comfy chair in his office, Airachnid standing silently beside him as he flips through each profile.

'Too bright, too dull, I don't like this type of frame-' even without looking twice, it can go on like this for hours until he accidentally bumps into you. Everything about you seemed to fit his every whim. You were the perfect size, the perfect paint job, and without a single flaw, what else could a bot of his stature want?

↑ Yandere! Sentinel definitely got a sense of “love at first sight” in this scenario, but I'm not quite sure what he feels for you can be called love at all.

He's not going to immediately order your services the minute you do, but you can't say he doesn't want to either. Sentinel is very concerned about how he looks in front of others.

“Should I contact her?” Airachnid decides to speak, leaning a little closer to take in the sight of the bot on the panel.

Too focused on his thoughts, the Prime flinches, but quickly hides it as he tries to compose himself and sit up straight in his seat.

“No-no need to, for now,” he clears his throat. ”I need some time to think.”

And then he can't help but come back every time to look at you. It's no secret he's interested. Each new profile is now more boring to him than the last, and at some point he doesn't have the patience not to call out Airachnid.

↑ But...! It would be too suspicious if he only called you. No, he can't let the others think he has favorites, so grudgingly, he might as well call out a few other assistants, even though he hardly paid attention to who they might be. All his attention was only on you.

From the moment you arrive, it seems that everyone's favorite Prime just can't live a day without you. Every day, you'll be at his beck and call.

He needs to clean up his own office in a hurry? You go straight to him. In the middle of the night, you're called to bring a few cubes of energon directly to his chambers? You forget about your rest for the whole night. And sometimes it gets absurd.

At some point, he even forgets that he also has other maids that run errands for him; at some point, you're promoted to be his personal maid.

Since then, you can say bye-bye to your privacy since Sentinel gets even more greedy about it. Having you helping him and cleaning around is not enough at one point. Of course, like any other hardworking person, you need to rest; he doesn't want you to end up passing out because of low energon in the middle of nowhere. That is why you should always be kept next to him.

During the important meetings, when many members of Iaconian elite group came to the tower, discussing boring, important stuff, you're here to make sure that everyone is satisfied and happy. He wants to keep his high rate of approval after all!

Seeing how other bots look you up makes him practically grind his teeth. Part of him hates it deep to the core of his spark; the other is arrogant about it, knowing how none of them can actually have you. You're his personal favorite, so there is no way someone would dare to take Prime's maid.

↑ but if someone dares to make a gross, disgusting comment about you, he'd make sure that they learn the lesson. He wouldn't kill them, since he doesn't want to stain his servos in energon, or lose an important member, so he just scares them off in ‘seize them, cut their throat! oh, wait— I changed my mind!’ way.

The more you stay close with Sentinel, the more comfortable he gets. At first, it's all started with keeping your presence nearby. Nothing too suspicious or weird; you may think he's just testing your skills, and that alone makes you put more effort into your work,  even though the reason for his staring is a little different than you might think.

↑ He's not a hardcore yandere even though when he ‘‘falls in love’, it hits him hard. There will be this overly sweet period with him, where he shows that he does actually care about you. Like when you can't reach for something, he will help to get it for you, or if you're too tired, he lets you rest with him together in the privacy of his office. Overall, when he wants to show himself from the good side, Sentinel is such a perfect mech.

↑ He's always polite, and when he's with other bots who are lower in rank than him, he acts all humble; it's hard not to feel at ease around him.

But as much as a bastard Sentinel is in canon, yandere Sentinel still doesn't treat his darling as equal. Like I mentioned in previous headcanons for Sentinel, he sees only himself as ‘a king’, and sharing that title with someone else will only take the part of power he wants to have.

He's still selfish and arrogant, since he believes that his maid lover was created only for him, and him only. There is a part of him that actually sees you as an object that he wants to possess, and it's not really romantic.

↑ Sentinel loves to control everyone and everything, and his pretty darling is not an exception. If he sees you slacking off when you're supposed to work, he's not shy to scold or even punish you. It's nothing too drastic, at least for now, but that will make you remember that you work for a Prime, after all.

[kuronanox]

Serving royalty - Byakuya Kuchiki

(Your Name) had always been a servant, service girl and peasant all her life, her family was born from nothing and was doomed to serve the royals houses. That's all she knew, her dreams to become a shinigami were squashed, merely because she was weak and sheltered from the protection of the royals she served. She didn't hate her life, she just wish there was excitement in it.

"I wanna leave this place someday." (Your Name) tells another servant as they tended to the garden outside the Kuchiki manor. Fall had entered so the flowers were scattered all over the floor. With a broom she swept it into the grass.

"You don't like it here?"

"No, it's just... there's more to life than this. Who knows maybe if I make enough money I can leave and just go somewhere quiet and peaceful."

There was a silence between two of them as the other servant just simply said she loved being here because everything was provided for them.

(Your Name) kept her thoughts to herself, of course the other servants didn't think like her, she was a bit adventurous, the other girls didn't want to leave.

"Well it's just a dream. It's not like Kuchiki sama would let me." (Your Name) half hearty laughs walking away for her own space.

Kuchiki Byakuya, all the girls fawned over him. She thought he was good looking, apparently he was a widow. Although she never met the lady Hisana rumors said she was beautiful but always sick.

Byakuya always seemed cold to her, he would acknowledge their work with a few words but that was it.

"You have to serve dinner tonight!" One of the girls yelled to (Your Name) as they giggled and ran away.

She rolled her eyes, they hated this job mostly because it was rather awkward when dinner came.

Byakuya sister and him would sit and eat while being served. She liked Rukia, she was nice and humbled.

"Fine, but you guys have to prepare the food tonight!"

"Deal!" The other girls agreed.

Her mother always told her to wear appropriate clothes when serving the royal family, (Your Name) owned a few nice kimono but not nearly as fancy. Taking a deep breathe she took the trays of food from the other girls and softly called out from the other side of the door.

"Come." Byakuya says in a tired voice, the room was so silent (Your Name) seriously couldn't understand how Rukia could eat dinner like that most nights.

She gently opened the door and made sure to look anywhere but their eyes. With a tall posture and soft footsteps she placed Byakuya first and then went over to Rukias.

"No need to be so polite with me." Rukia smiles to (Your Name) as she silently blushes and shakes her head.

"I'm sorry Kuchiki San but that would be rude of me and against the rules." Rukia could only give her a friendly smile after and excused her.

"Kuchiki sama, I will be over to the next room if anything is needed." (Your Name) gesture to Byakuya as he nodded his head in approval.

Their dinner went smoothly and she only had to return twice to bring hot water for their tea, as far as she can tell the only conversation were held was that of the gotei 13 and about Rukia leaving to the human world for her friend Ichigo.

Byakuya was an observant man, he noticed that (Your Name) was the only servant to serve them of recent as the other girls would leave the job to her alone. She was quiet but he felt like there was a facade she let on, her hair flowing from her face as she bowed to them or when she slightly bent over to refill the tea pot.

He knew she had been living here for a few years and that her family had long passed away. Either way he acknowledged her hard work when all the other servants didn't want to do it or they were rather lazy. Byakuya saw the pattern of kimono that she wore, she had a selection of three and would alternate them when serving the family.

It made him realize the difference of their social status, when he could afford hundreds, she only owned three nice ones.

"You may be dismissed for the night." He tells (Your Name) as she came in for the last time to refill their tea.

(Your Name) seemed confused because they hadn't finished dinner and the room wasn't cleared. As she was about to open her mouth to protest that her job wasn't finished he silence her "You may retire for the rest of the night."

She took a look around not knowing how to go with the situation and she saw Rukia give her a smile "don't worry, we've notice your hard work, please take the rest of the night off."

A blush came to her face as she bowed deeply to Byakuya and to Rukia before leaving.

"Ehhh! You finished dinner already?" Some of the girls asked as she joined them in the common dining room.

"Yes Kuchiki sama insist I take the rest of the night off."

"What?! He's never told us that!" Some of them exclaimed a bit surprised as (Your Name) shrugged with a smug smile. "Haha, my hardwork has paid off!"

The rest of the night became peaceful as she sat outside to look at the sky, she could recall only being in Byakuya private corders a few times. He was sick, apparently really sick and had came down with a terrible fever. The medicine that was given to him was not working. Some of his advisors had spoke to Byakuya about a lady who use to work at the manor and how her medicine worked magic but she long passed leaving a daughter behind and that's how (Your Name) was brought to his corders

"You are requested to treat Kuchiki Sama fever." One of the advisor told her one night as she was already fast asleep but a concern grew on her as she quickly changed and followed to his room.

Byakuya was laying on the futon covered in sweat, his mouth slightly open and brows furrowed in pain.

"I need these herbs quickly." She told them as they went off to fetch the other servants to get them for her.

"Kuchiki sama is burning really bad, can we prepare him an ice bath?"

There was movement made from the captain as he covered his face from the light of the candle and he groaned "no ice bath." He weakly demanded as (Your Name) politely but sternly said that it would help a good amount until the herbs came in.

"Kuchiki sama, leaving lots of cold towels on your body would be ridiculous. Please listen to me."

Byakuya advisors made the choice for him as he grumbled out in pain not fully understanding the situation.

While that was happening she made the effort of crushing the herbs and brewing it into a tea.

"This will help Kuchiki sama."

After she placed him down gently and dried his body covered in water. And (Your Name) clearly tried not looking at the towel covering his special parts.

"drink this, it will make you feel better."

During that night she was told to stay there and tend to him all night. She wanted sleep, but was afraid of getting in trouble if she refused to stay.

Byakuya felt like he was floating but after falling asleep he awoke the next morning feeling tremendously better. The towel on his forehead fell onto his lap as he looked around the room.

(Your Name) was curled a few feet away from him in a ball next to the water bowel and herbal tea.

A sense of guilt came over him as he saw she was painting a picture of something but the lines gradually became messy as if she was trying to fight sleep.

That was when he first noticed her.

"I thought I ordered you to rest." His chilling voice says from behind her as she quickly sat up to face Byakuya who had no emotion on his face. At least she couldn't read his thoughts.

She couldn't read if he was angry at her but she bowed her head down and apologized.

"I'm sorry Kuchiki sama, the outside air isn't as suffocating. It's nice for some fresh air once in a while." (Your Name) explains giving them a bit of space between them as Byakuya says nothing and motions for her to sit back down next to him.

She hesitated before looking at him in the face and then away, he was waiting for her to make a move. Clearing her throat she sat down next to him and relaxed a bit.

Many questions were going through her head as Byakuya was silent watching the cherry blossoms fall.

"You've been working really hard, thank you." He tells her after a while as she looks down in embarrassment. (Your Name) didn't think he ever noticed her.

"Thank you, I try my best."

"Although, your painting needs some work." Byakuya slightly teased at her with a half smirk as she gasped and tried hard not to look at him in the face. She wanted to look so bad but didn't want to come off rude.

"It's okay to acknowledge me." Byakuya then tells her as she looked back to him as he stared down to (Your Name). He was right, the moonlight shining down made her look even more pretty.

"I feel like this is the most I've ever heard you speak before." She laughs a little hiding her mouth as his eyes widen from shock. "I'm no artist, I merely was trying to past time when you were ill."

He smirks again, Byakuya knew she wasn't at all reserved.

"Allow me to teach you." He then offered as a way to get to know her better without actually selling himself out. There was a silence for a while before she spoke.

"I would love to, but I don't think it would be appropriate." Her words struck with a bit of sadness as the Captain looks at her, she seemed deep in thought.

"As your provider you must." He orders her as she smiles a little and nods in agreement.

A few months had passed "Wow I'm getting so much better look Kuchiki sama!" (Your Name) excitingly says rushing to Byakuya with her painting. There was a big smile plastered on her face as he looks up from his spot.

It was a tiger stalking it's prey and he couldn't help but think about something different with that reference.

"What's wrong? Does it look bad?" She asks with confusion not understanding how close she was next to him. There was a certain innocence in her that Byakuya found pure and wanted to protect.

"It's nice. Just let me help you define some of the lines." He offered as he took her hand in his and swiftly corrected the messy lines.

She was blushing finding it hard to breathe, if all the other servants saw they probably would have fainted. (Your Name) could feel the heat on her back and his warmth that made her feel comfortable.

There was silence as she observed the strokes he was making.

"Better?" Byakuya asks her as she nodded and hid her face from him.

"What did you draw Kuchiki sama?" She then asks trying to calm herself as he shows his painting of a traditional lady holding a flower on her finger tip.

"It's very beautiful." (Your Name) says staring at the painting immerse by the detail of it.

"Very." Byakuya agrees staring at her face before sitting back up.

Although most of the time it was silent when they painted, she eventually started to talk more and act more casual, even Byakuya was surprised how much she was willing to share with him. He was thankful, he didn't want her to be closed off such as he was.

A part of him wanted to move forward and settle down again but he didn't know what (Your Name) was feeling.

"It's getting late, I don't want the girls to talk." She then says cleaning up the ink and papers.

"I see, allow me to walk you back."

"It's okay Kuchiki sama, I'm sure you need your rest. I have to be up early to start deep cleaning the mansion. The family is coming for a special dinner so I have to prepare."

Byakuya knits his brows, he knew that making her stay longer would cause a rumor to go around but he didn't care, he wanted to spend more time with her. Although he didn't want to reveal how he felt about her just yet.

"Alright, I assume you will be serving dinner?"

"Yes!" She says with a tired smile as he followed to her direction.

"Very well, you've been working hard. Allow me to gift this to you." Byakuya walks into one of the closets where the box was wrapped very nicely as he picked it up gently and places it in her hands. "Take care of it, it's one of kind made for you."

She was flushed and bowed deeply but before she could Byakuya stopped her and touched her hair, acknowledging how soft it was.

"Good night (Your Name)." He says before taking his leave.

(Your Name) rushed back to her room to see what was in the box, her excitement got the best of her as she had to calm herself and stop smiling so much.

She softly unwrap the ribbon and opened the box to see the Kimono stitched and made perfectly. The fabric felt delicate and soft but heavy and enduring.

A bit embarrassed of her only three selection, this was crafted by an expert. Holding the kimono up she smelled it and wrapped it around her.

Byakuya could only hope she liked the gift, as he headed to bed before tomorrows family dinner.

The day started early before the sun rise, (Your Name) and the other servants were busy cleaning and preparing food for tonight. The atmosphere was chaotic at the most but it was rather fun for her. She couldn't wait to show Byakuya how it looked but that would have to wait.

"You've been smiling a lot (Your Name)." One of the servants says with a smirk as she was lost in thought and apologize before going back to wrapping the dumplings. "Still thinking about leaving?"

"Leaving. Right I wanted to but now..."

"The days have been treating me well." She says back not wanting to share that she was spending private time with their "master" most days.

"Oh I see. Be careful."

(Your Name) seemed confused by that statement but before she could say anything she was called to finish the rest of the room decoration.

The day pasted by fast as she got ready in her own room. She wanted to know what the other girl meant by being careful, (Your Name) couldn't tell if it was a warning or the girl was genuinely looking out for her.

It is a big mansion and there are eyes everywhere, she was sure some of the servants knew but didn't say anything.

Dinner was starting and it was rowdy in the room luckily for (Your Name) she had a few other girls help serve dinner.

When the door open, it was filled with the royal family and people of higher status she couldn't help but feel let down. They were usually polite but sometimes they had some rude ones.

Byakuya took a moment to acknowledge her presence in the room as she gave a small smile and looked back down. Of course it did not go unnoticed by Rukia and the servants.

(Your Name) knew the other girls wanted to be near Byakuya so she stayed back and went immediately to put down Rukias tray.

"You look beautiful." She tells Rukia as the shorter shinigami blushes and thanks her.

It did not go unnoticed by Byakuya of the space (Your Name) was making through the night but he knew the words that were going around. The servants gossip to much. He knew she didn't want to create anymore rumors.

"Kuchiki Taicho have you thought about remarrying? I have a daughter still in her prime that is a suited match and can bring great aspects if we join family's." One of the royals says as Byakuya sips on his tea.

(Your Name) heard the conversation a few feet away as she gather the rest of the tray to put down. She was waiting for Byakuyas answer, she didn't know why she was acting this way. She never liked him before but spending some time and seeing his subtle acts of kindness changed her mind about Byakuya completely.

"I have, but that is a conversation I will not get into. I wish to find my own wife." Byakuya states clearly as Rukia ears perked up also from her brother. She didn't know he was thinking about remarrying. She couldn't help but feel a bit sad but also happy, he was finally finding happiness. Of course Rukia knew she would always be his little sister no matter what.

(Your Name) sighed in relief, but at the same time sad. Once he married she won't be able to paint along side him no more, it would definitely be inappropriate.

Some of the servants gave her a look which confused (Your Name) as they left the room quietly.

"Why are you all staring at me?" (Your Name) asks a bit fed up with the looks she had been getting all day.

"We saw you leave Kuchiki Sama private corders last night. Tell us! Is he good in bed?!" They exclaimed as (Your Name) almost choked on her spit.

"What?! You guys have the wrong idea! Kuchiki sama just offered to help me with my painting skills, there's nothing going on. I'm just glad you guys aren't mad at me." She says in relief as they giggle at her.

"No, we all know but didn't know how to ask!"

(Your Name) groaned and walked away from the nagging girls about their time together.

"Nii sama, it was a good dinner." Rukia says to her brother as he nodded his head walking slightly ahead of her. "Will you retire tonight?" She continue to asks as he answers back. "In a few hours, I wish to have more tea." He tells her as Rukia smiles and takes her leave back to the 13th division.

(Your Name) was busy cleaning the rest of the room as she sighed, the day drained her. She was glad no one hated her though especially the other servants, they were all basically sisters. A sense of sadness came over her as it fell silent in the room leaving her deep in thoughts.

She accepted she would never be anything more than a servant for the rest of her life. It was the cruel reality having to be born from nothing. Although she loved her parents deeply she didn't regret anything from her childhood to womanhood.

There was a letter on her bed as she got ready for bed. Byakuya was waiting for her.

It was late when he felt her presence outside his room. She was nervous, they always met up outside or in his study room.

"Kuchiki sama." She softly calls out as he opens the door to let her in.

Her night outfit was rather thin as he gave her his cloak. "It's cold." He tells her as she thanked him and took a seat next to him.

"Shall I pour the tea?"

Byakuya nodded as she covered her chest with one hand to not expose the loose covering.

"I wanted to speak to you about something."

Her ears perked up as she let him continue.

"You want to leave the manor?" Byakuya asks as she swallowed the hot tea and stay silent for a while, she didn't know how to answer him.

"For a while I did, I wasn't very happy but things change. I don't really know, I know there is more to life than this. I also want to explore and start a family one day.....Are you upset about that?"

Byakuya turns to her and reaches out to her cheek to hold it. The candle light shown in her face and her tired lids made her look dreamy as she fell into his touch. Usually she would shy away but maybe it's the lack of sleep that was making her act so bold or because she knew deep down he was into her.

His thump touches her lip as she opened her eyes, he was staring at her for approval as she nodded her head and moved closer into him as he kissed her lips.

It was light as he paused to look at her once more and caved back to her lips for more. There was a buried passion that he thought was long lost coming back as his hand ran through her hair and her arms were around his neck.

She was intoxicating as his tongue met hers with the same power for dominance.

There was heavy panting when they pulled apart, she didn't expect him to kiss her.

"Would that be enough to convince you to stay, stay by my side." He confessed as (Your Name) touched her lips, he was addicting, his voice, his face, his touch.

"Maybe." She smirks as he slightly smiled back to her. "But I am not royal."

Byakuya had his share of thoughts and hardship already in his last marriage to not care anymore.

"Does not matter to me." He tells her gently taking her hand with his holding it up to kiss it.

She was worried but his words alone is enough for her.

"Kuchiki sama-"

"Byakuya sama is fine." He insisted as she held onto his hand tighter.

"Byakuya sama, not trying to ruin the mood but I am quite tired." She laughs as he kissed her hand once more and helped her up. He guided her down to his bed as she seemed completely shocked.

"Stay with me tonight." He asks as she accepted his invitation.

They shared the bed as she comfortably fell into the covers of smelling his scent. She could stay here forever now.

"Good night Byakuya sama." She says as he wrapped his strong arms around her drifting to sleep as well.

Within the following months (Your Name) and Byakuya relationship had bloomed. "Rukia sama, are you going to the festival?" (Your Name) asks as they were sitting outside enjoying the sun.

"Yes! I will see you there?"

"I was suppose to go with your brother but he said he might be busy..." she says a little sadly as Rukia looked concern for her.

"Want to come with me?"

Her eyes widen as she smiled and agreed.

The night came as she wore the kimono Byakuya had gifted her, to bad he wouldn't be able to see her in it. She frowned but stopped, going with Rukia would be enough.

"You look amazing! Did my brother get this for you?" Rukia asks as she met her outside the manor.

"Yes! To bad he can't see me wear it but there is always next time!" (Your Name) says with excitement as they walked side by side talking about all the good food they were going to eat there.

From the entrance of the festival Byakuya could see his dearly beloved with his sister as they chatted and giggled with each other. It soften his heart as a smile placed on him.

From a distance (Your Name) saw a familiar figure standing, as she looked up and her smile grew even more as she ran towards Byakuya.

"Byakuya sama, I'm glad you came." She hugged him as his eyes widen, she was beautiful in the kimono and everyday since the first day they met.

"Of course my love." He says as he pushed some hair away from her face.

"Let's go!" She happily says extending her hand out to Rukia and then Byakuya who followed.

She was glad, she was starting to create a family filled with love and joy.

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 27: I'm Sorry

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count:  9690 words.

A/N: This one is a long boi. It took its time. :3

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

The world knows of the kingdom of Sukuna, a place shrouded in shadows, where the ruthless tyrant and his curses reign with an iron fist. However, few know of the existence of a crucial region north of the main city: the human commune. A place set apart by a strong rock wall, surrounded by rolling hills, humble huts and vast fields of crops, worked with care by the humans who, in the eyes of the king, are nothing more than resources: his precious chickens.

With a population that once reached 6,000 inhabitants, which decreases every night, the humans have managed to build a home despite the adversities. Although they live under Sukuna's regime, they refuse to obey him blindly. To maintain order and ensure their own survival, they decided to create a figure that would represent their values: the Judge.

The Judge is a unique authority, founded on justice, fairness and good manners. This mediator not only resolves conflicts, but is an essential pillar of the commune. Someone who is at the service of the people, whether it be day, night, snowing or lightning. Unlike kings, whose power is inherited, the position of Judge is earned through elections. When the sitting Judge reaches 50 years of age, they must select six young candidates, who will dedicate five years to rigorous training. They shall study hard to meet any challenge, learn to serve impartially, and most importantly, accept the sacrifice of not marrying or starting a family. This ensures that their devotion is exclusive to the commune. At the end of their training, the community elects the next Judge by vote, allowing the current one to retire in peace.

Among the aspiring Judges was Hiromi Higuruma. At 15 years old, Hiromi already demonstrated a strong conviction of service and an innate empathy towards those most in need. As part of his training, he attended the daily hearings, taking a seat alongside the other candidates as he watched and took notes on the cases being solved. That morning, he was reviewing his notes when a sharp, unmistakable voice echoed through the room, eliciting sighs of exasperation from the other candidates. Hiromi, however, quickly turned his head. If Yorozu was in court, then so were you.

You walked down the hall towards the courtroom, trying to calm your sister down, as the angry neighbors and your younger sisters followed close behind. The tension was palpable. They had gotten into a heated dispute at the neighbors' house over their older brother, and now they were there to settle the matter. Nagi, the neighbors' older sister, who you had hit with a plank in a fit of anger for defending Yorozu, was giving you glares that could cut through steel.

When it was your turn, you introduced yourself by name and age to the Judge, feeling the weight of all the gazes on you. You looked back and cracked a smile at the sight of your friend, Hiromi. He responded with a slight, somewhat shy smile before looking back at his notes. From his bench, the Judge rubbed his forehead as he read the name of Yorozu, who had once again caused trouble.

“I open the file for case #7 of the 10th of the fifth month of the current year.” The Judge dictated for his students to take note of what was about to happen, clearly disappointed to see the girls who were involved in a domestic fight. “Now, who wants to explain to me what happened this time?” Yorozu and Nagi began to shout to speak first. Nanako and Mimiko came to the defense of their older sister, while you just sighed at the commotion. “Order! Order!” The Judge exclaimed, slamming his gavel against the table.

“Jealous brother loving bitch!” Yorozu managed to scream before you could cover her mouth for her own good.

“Order!” The Judge threatened Yorozu with his gavel. “Miss eldest Yoshino, I grant you the floor.”

“Why her?!” Nanako and Mimiko exclaimed, annoyed.

“Because the Yoshino family doesn’t have any crimes to their name, while Yorozu is here every week,” one of the candidates answered behind her. The Judge nodded, agreeing with him. Yorozu just crossed her arms in annoyance as you continued to cover her mouth.

“Thank you, your honor.” Nagi gave Yorozu a victorious smirk. She flipped her off, but you gave her a smack to put it down.

After the Judge heard both sides of the story and questioned everyone involved, he ruled that the Yorozu must now do all of Nagi’s chores so that she could fully recover from the blow you gave her and cut off contact with the oldest son of the Yoshino’s. In addition, they must pay the Yoshino’s a compensation of 10 gold coins. Normally, it would be 20 coins, but since the blow was in self-defense, the compensation was reduced. Yorozu grumbled, but you accepted the punishment for her. They all left the room, still upset with each other, but Higuruma couldn't stop looking back at you worried. The Judge quickly noticed it, as he knew of his good friendship with you.

“Young Higuruma, please take a 20-minute break,” he said as he finished filing the case.

“Thank you, your honor,” Higuruma left his things on his seat and ran off to find you.

He found you just outside the convention hall, where trials were held in the early hours of the morning. You were walking home with your sisters while scolding Yorozu for getting into so much trouble lately. Even though you were angry, you still looked very cute with your scowl and your accusatory finger. Hiromi took a second to admire how good your light blue dress and matching scarf looked before catching up to you.

“Y/n! Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Hiromi grabbed your arm to inspect you better, but Yorozu pushed him away.

“Yeah, thanks for worrying about me, Hiromi,” Yorozu replied sarcastically. “I almost got hit with a rock, and you were licking my sister’s boots!” She squealed angrily. Higuruma just rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Enough!” You scolded her before reluctantly pushing her away. Yorozu snorted and walked ahead to the house on his own.

“Y/n and Higuruma sitting on a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Nanako and Mimiko teased you before running off, so you wouldn’t give them a scolding.

“I’m sorry, Hiromi, you know how they are,” you sighed tiredly before heading towards him.

“Don’t apologize, I’m used to it.” He smiled softly. “Are you okay?”

“Aside from being exhausted from dealing with those little girls, I'm fine.” You barely responded to the gesture.

“I can imagine your mother is going to be furious when she gets the compensation letter.” Hiromi put his hands in his pants pockets as he inspected your face.

It was one of the things he liked most about you: your transparency. You were like a crystal under the light, honest and clear, without shadows to hide what you felt. You had always been easy to read, and he had the gift of deciphering you with a simple glance. It only took a moment to know what was going through your mind, as if your beautiful eyes were an open book that only he knew how to interpret.

“Mom gets angry about anything lately. Dance classes aren't going the way she expected.” You shook your head.

“Is she still thinking about going to Gojo Kingdom to get you married?” Hiromi ran a hand through his well-combed hair. You nodded with a grimace. “But that means traveling through the Impossible Belt. It's a suicide mission.”

“Mom said we'd be fine.”

“Your mother doesn't know what the curses are like over there.” Hiromi grabbed you by the shoulders to shake you, in an attempt to get your mind straight. “Hundreds have tried to cross it, but no one has succeeded, do you really think you can?”

“I know what they say about the Impossible Belt, but my mother says that the men on the other side are very rich,” you explained.

“Is that what you want? To marry someone for their money?” Hiromi questioned you. He never considered that you could be someone so materialistic.

“Of course not” You shook your head.

“Then marry me.” Hiromi proposed decisively, kneeling in front of you. To which you could only laugh.

“No.” You rejected it completely with a smile.

“Am I that ugly?” He asked worriedly, to which you burst out laughing.

“Of course not, but I’m not going to let you give up the Judge position for me.” You helped him get back on his feet.

“Just because I’m a candidate doesn’t mean I’ll be Judge.”

“Oh please, everyone talks about you being the next Judge, and I’m not going to let you throw away your future for me.” He was about to contradict you, but you attacked him by surprise.

At 15, it’s easy to believe that you know everything, when in reality you’re a whirlwind of confusion. It’s a chaotic age, full of uncertainty, where you’re just beginning to figure out who you are. Maybe Higuruma wasn’t clear on who he was himself at the time, but he was absolutely sure of one thing: you were his soulmate.

Your hands surrounded his face with a tenderness that seemed to stop time. Your thumbs traced small circles on his flushed cheeks, either from the warmth of the bright morning sun or from the deep feeling burning within him. His lips parted, intending to convince you that you should marry him, to say something to break the moment. But no words managed to escape.

“You are special, Hiromi. You will make a good Judge.”

The loud, urgent knocks on the door broke the silence of midnight, tearing Hiromi from the fragile sleep he had fallen into. The memory of his childhood, warm but distant, faded as the guard claimed him. The candle on the desk flickered dimly, barely illuminating the scattered papers and the open book next to which he had fallen asleep. Another knock resounded, more urgent than the last. Hiromi jumped on his feet, grabbed the cloak that rested on the back of the chair and headed for the door. Opening it, he found himself face to face with Kuzakabe, whose face was filled with palpable panic.

“A horde has arrived! There are more than 10 of them!” The leader of the night watch exclaimed before running off with his axe.

“Fuck,” Hiromi muttered before grabbing a bow and quiver before following him at full speed.

The night enveloped him once again in its dark cloak. It was the third time this week that a new wave of curses attacked them. For months, the attacks had increased exponentially, and no one knew exactly why. Hiromi ran towards the point of the attack with Kuzakabe, while the echo of the bells resonated from the control tower. Nagi rang them loudly, alerting the villagers to come to help or rush to safety to get the children to their huts.

The place of the attack was behind some houses that bordered the wall. The stone had been devoured by the curses as if they were termites, opening a hole through which they now entered en masse. Kuzakabe rushed forward with other men, axe in hand, trying to cut down the grotesque creatures that mocked them. Each blow seemed harmless, as if the edge of the blades barely tickled them. No matter how hard they struggled, they could never kill the curses; the most they managed to do was wound them enough to drive them away, even if only temporarily.

Hiromi drew back his bowstring and fired an arrow at the head of one of the curses. The arrow pierced the air accurately, but upon impacting the creature’s side, it was absorbed into its body. “They’re like damn jellies,” he thought in frustration as he pulled out another arrow. Before he could fire, however, the creature fixed its attention on him and charged straight in, its movements grotesque but swift.

Desperate, Hiromi released another arrow, this time aiming for its head. But, as before, the projectile was useless. The curse caught him with an outstretched arm that lengthened unnaturally, clinging to his shirt tightly. Fear paralyzed him as he realized there was no escape. Another arrow would make no difference, and if it hit him, it would probably swallow him just the same.

“I will die here,” he thought, resigned, as he felt the grip tighten around his neck. Although he had always been a man of principles, dedicated to his community and willing to protect everyone, even in his final moments he could not help but regret it. He had made mistakes, but there was one that constantly watched over his head that did not let him rest. He was about to close his eyes, waiting for his life to pass before him.

But then, a red sparkle illuminated his vision.

You fell from the sky with impossible grace, wielding Sukuna’s dagger. With a single, clean and precise movement, you cut the curse in two, making it disappear in a whirlwind of shadows. Hiromi fell back on the grass, panting, and opened his eyes wide when he saw you in front of him.

Your red dress, tight to your figure, shone under the moonlight. Calmly, you lifted your skirt to hide the dagger in the garter of your leg, revealing a fraction of your underwear. Hiromi gulped, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. It couldn't be you. It was impossible. A year ago, your mother had sold you to the tyrant Sukuna. There was no way you were here, alive and in front of him. “Am I in heaven?” he thought. He couldn't take his eyes off you, completely captivated.

“Give me that,” you said as you leaned down to take the bow and quiver from him, snapping the poor man out of his forbidden thoughts.

“Do you know how to use it?” Higuruma stuttered in shock.

“Watch and learn, my friend,” you replied proudly as you put the quiver on your back in a quick, precise movement.

The rainbow dragon that had traveled nonstop to the commune was taking care of a few curses as the men ran away in terror at the sight of a curse bigger than the last, but there were some lucky curses that were escaping through the gap they had created to enter.

“If you focus 100 percent on your target, the object you give your cursed energy to is destined to hit the target 100 percent of the time.” You quoted King Gojo in your mind.

You took a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs as you got into the T-position you had practiced so many times, it was already part of your muscle memory. Your gaze, sharp as a blade, focused on the three curses trying to escape. With a small dose of imagination, you visualized the path of your arrow before firing. “Focus,” you repeated in your mind like a mantra, banishing any distractions until the curses were the only thing in your field of vision. A satisfied smile curved your lips as you took them into your sights. The creatures had lined up clumsily to cross the hole in the wall, one by one. You let go of the string and the arrow shot out like a fireball. The whistling sound cut through the air before piercing through all three heads in a single shot. The final impact against the stone wall shattered the arrow into a thousand splinters, but it didn’t matter. The curses were gone, dissolved into the void. 

“Wow…” Higuruma whispered behind you as he witnessed what you had done. You quickly hung onto the arch over the body to help your friend up.

“Hiromi! Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” You asked worriedly as you inspected his body.

You brushed his hair back like you know he likes. His black eyes looked at you, still surprised that you were in front of him. His nose was just as big as ever, but the maroon bags under his eyes were new. It hadn’t changed since you last saw him walking through the commune, heading to the court to start another busy day as a Judge.

“Y/n…” He whispered your name as if it was forbidden. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me.” You gave him a smile as you put your arms around his neck to hug him.

Before you could pull him towards you, Hiromi beat you to it. He held you firmly by the waist and pulled you towards his body with a desperate, urgent movement. The impact left you breathless for a moment, but your defenses crumbled when you realized that you were finally home. He wrapped you in his arms with a strength that was not only physical, but emotional, as if by doing so he promised himself that he would never let you go again. An intense warmth ran through you when you felt his hand pressing firmly against your back, anchoring you to him.

“I can't believe it. Everyone already thought you were dead.” Hiromi gently pushed you away to see your face, verifying that it was indeed you. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” He asked, worried as always. You were going to answer, but your hungry stomach answered for you.

“By any chance, do you have anything to eat?” You asked, embarrassed.

After the rainbow dragon returned to its sphere, and you reluctantly swallowed it, Hiromi placed his cloak over your shoulders and led you to his hut. He lit the candles again, leaving a plate of bread and cheese in front of you before making you a pot of tea as you told him everything you had learned since you were Sukuna’s servant. You still couldn’t believe that phase 1 of your plan had been completed. You were in the commune and Sukuna was thousands of miles away. It was unreal, but you had to believe it soon because this was only the beginning. Phase 2 was simpler: warn the entire commune about the upcoming war.

“Let me see if I understand correctly.” Higuruma sat in front of you with a small teapot made especially for him by the craftsmen. “Sorcerers do exist. They use something called “techniques” to exorcise curses. The neighboring kingdoms are full of them. There is also a kingdom full of curses that is now ruled by Sukuna, and he plans to use them to declare war on everyone, starting with the Zen'in. The Zen'in are very strong, especially an idiot commander named Naoya Zen'in who has entered several times, proving that Sukuna's kingdom is not as difficult to perpetuate as he thinks.”

"What a good memory you have, Hiromi." You smiled at him with your lips full of bread crumbs.

"A war..." Your friend held his forehead worriedly.

"I came as soon as possible to plan a strategy to defend the commune." You explained.

"Defend the commune? But I doubt we will participate in the war if Sukuna has a kingdom full of curses on his side." Hiromi frowned in confusion. You took a paper and a pencil from the pile of paper that was stacked on the coffee table that acted as his dining room. You drew a makeshift map of the world map that Sukuna had once shown you.

“We won’t participate in the war, but if the kingdoms decide to attack from the Impossible Belt, we’ll be right in the crossfire.” You explained, scribbling on the paper to prove your point. “Also, the curse attacks are only going to keep increasing because of Sukuna’s decision. He’s the one who imposed the curfew. That’s why the curses only attack the commune at night.”

“We are the bargaining chip for the curses to cooperate in the war,” Hiromi concluded.

“Bingo.” You dropped your pencil on the table before taking your cup of tea. It couldn’t compare to the tea Uraume made.

This wasn’t just bad, it was a disaster, a potential catastrophe. If what you said was true, the commune, their only home, could be wiped out before the rooster announced a new dawn. That little corner of the world was all they knew, all they loved. They weren’t going to let it crumble under the weight of an arrogant tyrant’s desires for grandeur. The mere thought of losing it ignited an unbreakable rage in them. The commune wasn’t just a place, it was their refuge, their history, and they would fight to their last breath to protect it.

“How much time do we have to prepare?” He asked, intrigued. This was the part you were afraid to discuss with him.

“That’s the good news. We have at least 8 years,” you replied.

“Really? I thought we’d have months at most.”

“It’s because the king wants an heir,” you explained.

“Who would be crazy enough to give that thing a child?” Hiromi asked sarcastically before sipping from his warm cup.

“Me.” Your friend’s eyes widened, and he dropped the cup, crashing to the floor.

“What?! No, no, and no! You’re crazy!” Hiromi shot up from his seat as he rubbed his forehead. A headache took over his head from lack of sleep and stress.

“It’s too late, I’m engaged to him,” you added shyly, knowing the reaction he’d have.

“Engaged?! Have you lost your mind?!” If you told him that you almost lost it (literally) for kissing King Gojo, the vein on his forehead would pop.

Hiromi was a protective man, sometimes too much when it came to you. He would scold you severely when you made a bad decision since you were children, he taught you to read so that you would develop your mind for your own good, and he helped you in whatever way he could when he wasn't studying all day for the Judge's exams. He also used to bring you groceries from time to time and a few gold coins when your father died. He was an excellent friend and that could play against your plan.

"No! I will not allow you to marry him! You are too good for that damn genocidal!" He exclaimed before you forced him to sit down in an attempt to calm him down. He dropped his head into his hands. "I'm sorry, Y/n..."

"You have nothing to apologize for." You stroked the black hair that stuck out from the back of his neck.

“I should have asked for your hand. I should have married you to protect you. I never thought your mother would be so cruel as to sell you to King Sukuna.” A tear fell on your bare foot, creating a lump in your throat. “I was so busy that I didn't even notice. Your sisters told me a week later. You wouldn't be in this huge trouble if I had been a better friend. Forgive me.” He implored while hugging your legs and his head resting on your stomach. Hiromi spoke as if he could finally free himself from a weight that has been eating away at him for a long time.

“It's not your fault…”

“It is! Instead of helping others, I should have always been helping you!” Hiromi exclaimed to drown any attempt to make him believe otherwise.

“And you helped me! You always did!” You imitated his volume, causing him to get up annoyed to look you straight in the eyes.

“I should have helped you when it mattered the most!” Hiromi grabbed you by the arms so you wouldn't run away from the argument like you used to do, so as not to worry him anymore.

“And I would have rejected your help!” You shouted, causing your friend to jump, but he still didn't let go. “You're the best Judge this commune has ever had, and I'm so proud of you. I wasn't going to let you put that aside for me. I could never do that to you,” you told him, calmer now.

“Look at you, always thinking of others before yourself.” Hiromi sighed in disappointment. “I'm not going to let you marry a fucking tyrant.”

“I want to!” You replied.

“You can’t be serious.” Hiromi shook his head, almost laughing at how stupid that sounded.

“I love him.”

That was the hardest part, the one you were most afraid of revealing. You mentally prepared yourself, anticipating the monumental scolding you felt you deserved. But, to your surprise, all you received was a dense, impenetrable silence. It was worse than you had imagined. The absence of words did not calm you, it only intensified your anxiety. Something in his gaze, in his stillness, worried you even more than any reproach.

“You don't love him…” Hiromi took you by the chin so you could look into his eyes. “You only got used to his presence to survive.”

“No, no… I really do love him, and he loves me too. I'm sure,” you said, pulling yourself from him. “I know it's a terrible curse that has killed thousands of people and sees humans as rats, but he's different with me. He cares about me, gives me beautiful things, touches me like he's afraid of breaking me. He does love me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Sukuna Ryomen is the most horrible curse there is, you can't be serious." Hiromi sighed before sitting down to process what you had said.

"I know this is all crazy, but it's the truth, Hiromi. It's why I'm still alive after making so many mistakes. Besides, if I was madly in love with him for survival, I'd still be at that ball and not here to warn everyone about the war."

"You say you love him, and you think about betraying him. That doesn't make any fucking sense," he hissed angrily.

"It's not betrayal if I'm doing it for his kingdom." You shrugged. "I just want to protect the commune, and I know you do too." Hiromi raised his head to finally look at you. “So, please help me one last time.”

Hiromi sighed and then gave you a weak smile. “As many times as you like.”

Mrs. Inoue was enjoying a lemonade while waiting patiently for the chocolate cookies to come out of her oven. It had been two days since the ball and there had been no news of any disturbance in the Zen'in kingdom, so surely you and the king should be back at the castle soon. Mrs. Inoue enjoyed baking, but being someone who worked her ass off for her entire life, she never had time to do it until now. It was the first time in her life that she had a couple of days off, so she spent it baking and sharing them with the curses. And now that you would be arriving soon, she was baking some cookies especially for you. Everything was peaceful and quiet, until a curse slammed the kitchen door.

“The king is coming!” Announced. Mrs. Inoue smiled excitedly at the thought of your arrival. “And he comes alone!” She had never lost her smile so quickly. 

Sukuna slammed the castle door and entered without saying a word to anyone. Everyone was watching their gaze. With that attitude, he could kill someone just by hearing a breath he didn't like. Kenjaku offered him ideas on how he could relax after the two-day trip, but ended up being completely ignored. The master could only sigh as he watched the upset king walk away through the halls towards his room.

"What happened? Where is the lady?" Mrs. Inoue approached Kenjaku, distressed to see the state of the king.

"The lady must be fine. She must be in the castle of Sukuna’s kingdom right now," Kenjaku explained.

"Why is she there? What happened?" She inquired.

"I'm not sure. The only thing I was able to understand was that our king had a severe argument with the lady. My theory is that Y/n perhaps did something that was not to the liking of our king." Kenjaku explained.

Something in the poor lady's mind finally gave up, as if a thread had finally snapped from the tension. It couldn't be true. After hearing you anguish over why the king wouldn't ask you to marry him, you were going to do that to him? The situation had crossed the threshold of absurdity, bordering on unbearable. Her thoughts were in turmoil. This couldn't continue like this. If no one else was going to put things in order, then it would be up to her to do something about it.

"Mr. Kenjaku, if King Sukuna were to kill me today, tell the lady it's her fault." She asked him for a favor before walking back to the kitchen at a determined pace.

"What did you say?" Kenjaku asked her, stunned.

"You heard me!" She replied like a battle cry. "Every day I understand humans less," Kenjaku thought with a giggle.

Mrs. Inoue took a deep breath to steel herself before knocking on the large door to his majesty’s room. Unlike the sorcerers with impressive techniques, she only had a tray of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of cold milk to defend herself against the great tyrant. She knocked on the door with loud knocks to break through the thick wood.

“Get lost,” the king ordered.

“It’s me, Mrs. Inoue.”

“Go away,” the king growled again.

“I brought freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.”

There was a moment of consideration.

“Come in.” “It always works,” she thought with a smile.

Mrs. Inoue entered the room, her steps falling short against the imposing elegance of the place. A cut crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling like a luminous jewel, while a splendid balcony gave a glimpse of the vast landscape beyond. Every detail in the decorations spoke of a luxury that seemed unattainable, pieces that surely cost more than she could ever imagine in her entire life. But none of that was as striking as the figure of the king, lying in bed.

Sukuna was completely wrapped in the blankets, with his eyes closed, and his face marked by a fatigue that was not only physical, but emotional. His powerful silhouette now looked like that of a man who carried a weight too great even for him. Since he made that decision, the king had felt trapped in an abyss. His appetite had abandoned him, his words had been reduced to nonexistent murmurs, and all he wanted was to sleep, to sink into an endless dream that would take him away from his thoughts. But not even the refuge of the bed offered him comfort.

This was what he feared most when he realized that he had fallen in love with you. That love had turned him into someone he despised: weak, vulnerable, and tormented by emotions that he believed he had buried centuries ago. Sukuna couldn't stand being that man again, the one who once let the world watch him fall.

"They're chocolate cookies, my specialty." Mrs. Inoue set the tray on the nightstand.

"Just leave it there and get out." Sukuna ordered, turning on the bed until his back was facing her.

"Actually, I have something to tell you." "I know you wanted me to keep it a secret, Y/n, but I'm doing you a favor," she thought. "I wrote the letter." She confessed.

Sukuna frowned and turned back on the bed to face Mrs. Inoue. "But Y/n already confessed that she wrote it." "Explain yourself."

"The lady asked me for my opinion on a love letter she had written for you. It was horrible. The harvest contract was more romantic than what she wrote." This made the king's lip curl slightly. “So I asked her to tell me everything she felt for you so I could rewrite the letter.”

She still remembered that day in the library with astonishing clarity. Every detail was etched in her mind as if it had happened yesterday: the way your cheeks instantly flushed, tinted with a blush that seemed even more vibrant under the light filtering through the large window. Your hands trembled slightly as you crumpled the napkin where you had written your horrible draft, as if you wanted to erase not only the words, but also the audacity of having written them. Then, a nervous giggle escaped your lips, soft and brittle, filling the space.

“He makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the world. I can’t stop thinking about him even when he’s not around. I want him to kiss me, touch me… I mean, I’m happy, even if he looks in my direction…” Mrs. Inoue watched you curiously as you wandered around the library.

There it was again, that look. That unmistakable sparkle that lit up in your eyes every time you spoke of him. It was a spark of pure emotion, a loving glow that she had recognized since they were both simple servants. She didn't hesitate for a moment, taking the sheet of paper and pen that you handed her. While you spoke with a mixture of enthusiasm and nervousness, she concentrated on translating your words and feelings into the most romantic letter she could imagine, a masterpiece that captured the essence of what your heart wanted to tell him.

“Oh no, did you write on the paper?” That romantic look turned into a worried one.

“Yes, it’s real and lively.” Mrs. Inoue asked you as you took the letter and read it. “Was it wrong?”

“I just wanted to write it myself, and this is the only paper our king gave me,” you explained.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Inoue apologized.

After a second of consideration, a mischievous giggle escaped your lips. “No, don’t apologize. This is perfect, actually.”

“It is?”

“Yes, it’s just what I need.” You walked over to the table to fold the letter in four and trim the edges to make it look like a heart. “Just don’t tell anyone that you wrote it, is that clear?” You swore her to secrecy with a wicked smile she had never seen before.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Sukuna asked, sitting on the bed while eating a cookie and listening intently to Mrs. Inoue.

“Because you two are acting like silly children,” Mrs. Inoue scolded him. “It’s obvious that you love each other, but you keep sabotaging each other as if it were a game of who falls first when you’re both already at the bottom.”

From his dull eyes, which seemed to carry an old pain, to the way he held the cookie with both hands, Sukuna was nothing more than a lost child trapped in the body of a monster. Mrs. Inoue, accustomed to fearing him, realized that something had changed. This Sukuna, so vulnerable, was not the ruthless creature she had come to know. It was a version she never thought possible, but there he was, in front of her, stripped of all power, displaying a fragility that almost broke her heart. “This poor boy just needs his granny,” she thought, her resolve strengthening as she looked at him tenderly.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened? Surely it can be fixed.” Mrs. Inoue reached over to feel his knee in an attempt to comfort him.

“I almost cut her head off.” “For a second, I forgot who I was talking to,” she gulped. “We argued, and she said she wasn’t sure she loved me anymore,” Sukuna whined before devouring the cookie in anger.

“Oh…” “Why did you do that, girl?!” she scolded you telepathically.

“I only got distracted for a second, and she was already with a… normal man. They looked so good together.” Sukuna pulled his legs to his chest to curl into a ball.

For as long as he can remember, Sukuna has hated his appearance. It was the root of all his problems: the reason his mother looked down on him, why his hometown rejected him and stoned him, why on more than one occasion he saw death as his only way out. Over the centuries, he learned to see his body in a new light. He understood the advantages it offered him, the power it conferred on him, and slowly began to love it, not for what it was, but for what it allowed him to be: the feared king of curses, a symbol of strength and dominance. But that fragile balance he had built was shattered in an instant when he saw the only thing he couldn't do: look good next to you.

You were a beautiful, kind-hearted maiden, and he was an abomination that nature couldn't undo in time. All those barriers that took centuries to build collapsed when he saw you next to him. A beautiful man, of almost heavenly grace, someone who conquered hearts without even trying. Even yours. Suddenly, the old insecurities came back like a cruel echo, a reminder of the part of himself he had buried but never overcome. And at that moment, for the first time in centuries, Sukuna didn't feel like a king. He felt like an insufficient man.

"Who wants a normal man? That's boring. You have character, strength and that champion smile." Mrs. Inoue encouraged him. "Let me see that smile."

Mrs. Inoue moved closer to tickle his ribs, on the sides of his mouth. Sukuna tried to push her away, but she was faster. That itchy sensation he hadn't felt in years made him laugh out loud.

"There it is. You look very handsome, my king. I'm sure Y/n thinks the same. Don't you remember how she saw you at the coronation? She almost wanted to take your clothes off with her eyes."

“Did she really look at me like that?” Sukuna blushed as he thought of how good you looked too. You always look good, though. You were like his little doll that he could dress up in pretty clothes to his liking.

“I don’t know anything about love, so what I know is that it’s very hard to find.” The lady gave a kind smile. “What you two have is beautiful and unique. She really loves you, so I doubt she’ll stop anytime soon. If you apologize from the bottom of your heart, I really think she’ll forgive you.” That was all Sukuna needed to be able to get out of bed.

“Just apologize?” Sukuna made a face of displeasure.

“What’s wrong with it?” Mrs. Inoue asked, confused.

That wasn’t enough for him. Vulnerability might have gotten to him, but he was still a king, and a king didn’t have the luxury of losing himself in regrets. This wasn’t the time for weakness or regrets; What was done was done, but there was always room to try again. I had to prove it to you. I had to make it clear that you had chosen the right king, not just the man who ruled with power, but the one who would treat you like no one else could. Not just like a queen, but like a goddess descended from heaven, someone worthy of being worshiped in every breath and gesture.

He was no ordinary man, and he couldn't offer you ordinary love. Sukuna knew he had to show you that, in his hands, you would never be just someone else; you would be his everything, the center of his universe. And if he had to try a thousand times to prove it to you, he would do it.

"She deserves much more than my apologies. I am the king of curses and I always win. I may have lost the battle, but I am going to win the damn war the only way I know how: I am going to conquer her heart back." He got out of bed and took another cookie from the tray. "And you are going to help me." He ordered the lady, frightened by his evil speech, before leaving her room.

“Yes, my king!” Mrs. Inoue exclaimed like a soldier before following him.

After Hiromi helped you plan a strategy for the commune to defend itself from the impending war, you spent the next three days writing down everything you remembered about the sorcerers so that Hiromi could later make them known to everyone at a mass meeting. You had spent it locked in your personal library and eating bread, rice, and boiled vegetables to continue writing down all the information that the Judge would need in order to explain everything that they once thought was a myth. But that wouldn’t be enough.

You had to make the most of the king’s absence. Since finding the sorcerers hidden in the commune would take quite a while, they had to move quickly to get the next best thing: cursed weapons. You knew that the warehouse was full of them, and they could use them while they found a way to make their own. The plan was relatively simple. You would enter the castle and at night you would steal the weapons and bring them to the commune.

“Are you sure about this?” Hiromi asked you as you walked towards the wall with the intention of returning to the castle, holding your heels by the laces.

“I know it’s a very risky plan, but it’s the best we have,” you explained.

“It’s not going to work,” said a third voice behind you.

She was an imposing woman, tall, with a silver mane dyed a soft blue hue that fell in messy cascades, partially covering her face and torso like an ethereal veil. One of her eyes, a deep and magnetic purple, peeked out between the strands, sparkling with an almost feline cunning. She wore a black dress that seemed to absorb the light. On her shoulder, a raven descended from the sky with calculated precision, spreading its wings before landing, as if that were its natural throne.

“Who are you?” You asked, confused.

“My name is Mei Mei, it's nice to finally meet you in person.” She introduced herself with a smile.

“She's the commune's tarot reader,” Hiromi added to put you in context.

“Meet me in person? Did you already know me?” You asked confused.

“I've been watching you for a while with the help of my crows. I can't help it. Your romance with the king is so interesting,” Mei Mei let out a smile.

“Can you see with your crows?” You asked, shocked.

“I knew you were full of shit! You spy on people!” Hiromi accused her, to which Mei Mei just laughed.

“You're a sorceress…” You concluded.

“That doesn't exist,” Mei Mei scoffed.

“Cause tarot is super real.” You rolled your eyes at the hypocrisy.

“Why are you revealing your secret to us?” Hiromi asked suspiciously.

“I spy on everyone here. I couldn't help but listen to your entire conversation about your discoveries, and I was intrigued by the thing about weapons that can kill curses. I want one for self-defense, so let’s make a deal. I help you get them, and you give me one. What do you think?” Mei Mei explained.

“Give us a second,” you asked the woman before team meeting with Hiromi. “What do you think?” You whispered.

“I don't know… People here don't trust her,” he explained.

“But she's a sorceress. I think she could really help us, and she doesn't ask for much in return. Since she wants something, she'll do whatever we ask of her." You shrugged. Hiromi looked at Mei Mei over his shoulder and she just waved at him.

"Fine... Just because the current plan is shit." You both returned to the position you were in to bring Mei Mei back into the conversation.

"Welcome to the team." You gave her a thumbs up.

"Perfect. Now let's plan something that's actually going to work." Mei Mei smiled at them.

First Step: The Crying Lady

Uraume was walking through the halls with their usual cold and calculating gaze when the creaking of the drawbridge descending caught their attention. Their eyes, always calm, opened wide, unable to hide the surprise at seeing you appear. You walked barefoot, with the elegant red dress torn and covered in dirt. Hiromi cut parts of your dress with the dagger and Mei Mei dirtied your dress with mud to make your tragedy more believable. You sobbed with a desperation that tore at the air. With trembling hands, you wiped your tears with a torn piece of the same dress. The contrast between the vibrant red of the fabric and the pale tiredness of your face made even Uraume, for a moment, feel the weight of your suffering.

“Y/N?! What happened?! Where is the king?!” They asked you, bewildered, as they ran towards you.

“The king saw me kissing King Gojo and punished me by making me walk here from the Zen'in kingdom!” You sobbed, tears running down your cheeks to swing on your chin. “I was cold and scared! I'm so hungry! I never thought I would make it, Uraume!”

Uraume didn't know how to react or what to do in the face of your shock. If the king had already punished you, then the only thing they could think of was to give you a warm welcome after fulfilling such a martyrdom.

“Welcome home, Miss. Why don’t we go to your room for a hot bath?” Uraume helped you into the castle.

“I can go to my room by myself. I’m starving, could you make me something to eat?” You wiped away your tears.

“Yes, of course, Miss.” Uraume nodded and ran to the kitchen while shouting incoherent orders to the servants.

You smiled to yourself as you wiped away the tears you were crying because of the onion Hiromi had slashed in your eyes before leaving the commune. The first step of reintegrating you into the castle had worked. As soon as Uraume left, the other servants came out of their hiding places to greet you with words of encouragement. Among them was Wasuke. Just the man you wanted to see.

Step Two: The Helper

“Wasuke!” You jumped into his arms as if he were your grandfather. “I missed you so much!”

“Miss! Are you okay?!” He asked you, worried.

“I’m better already,” You smiled at him. “My legs are exhausted from walking so much. Help me, please.” Wasuke took you by the arm to lead you to your room.

Once in your comfortable room, you stepped inside and made sure no one had followed you. You pulled Wasuke into the room and locked the latch behind you.

“I need your help,” you whispered to him.

“What? Are you okay?” Wasuke whispered back to you with a question mark on his face at your change of mood.

“I’m fine, I just need a simple favor.”

Step Three: Curfew

The bells rang punctually at 10 pm. You had already taken a bath and rested all day for this moment. You put on the dress you used to train archery in and a black cape, perfect for camouflaging yourself with the surroundings. You had already done the easy part of the plan, all that was left was the almost impossible. Getting to the weapons room without anyone seeing you. It was a warehouse that could only be entered from the courtyard. You could see it from the small window that opened from your window. There were already several crows hanging around the area as usual. “Who would say that someone was always watching me and I didn't know” you thought. You took out the dagger that Sukuna had given you, you caressed the rose with your thumb.

“If you won't do anything for them, I will, my king,” you said to the dagger before leaving your room.

You walked barefoot through the halls to avoid making as little noise as possible. You looked around as you watched a crow follow your discreet movements from the window. When you were about to run into a curse, you just dodged it or hid until it passed. Just like you had done that night when the king kissed you for the first time. You blushed as you remembered that. “Focus!” You scolded yourself for thinking about that at a time like this.

You reached the main entrance, and now you just had to wait for the signal. You opened it a centimeter to see the perimeter. Three curses patrolled from the bridges that connected the towers. Mei Mei, seeing your head sticking out of the gate, sent the crow flying near the curses.

“Hello! Hello!” The crow spoke, perfectly imitating its owner's accent, to get her attention.

“Do crows talk?” A curse in armor asked the other.

“How are they going to talk?” The other curse answered sarcastically.

“Well, that crow spoke.” The first curse spoke.

“Actually, crows don't speak, they just imitate the sounds of their environment.” The third curse entered the conversation.

“Ah….” The first curses nodded.

Another crow landed at the front door, your signal to leave, but you froze as you felt a curse appear behind you with a candle.

“Miss, it’s curfew,” he reminded you in a whisper.

You held the dagger under your cloak with a trembling hand, the cold metal feeling heavier than you remembered. “Sorcerers kill curses, we don’t save people,” King Gojo’s words echoed in your mind, sharp as the weapon you held. Guilt began to envelop your chest like a cloak of thorns. Killing an innocent being, even if it was a curse, was an act that ate away at you from within. It didn’t attack you, it didn’t show any signs of hostility, but the dilemma had no place in your mission. You couldn’t afford to take the risk. Any mistake, no matter how small, could crumble the plan on which everything depended.

“It’s not personal.” You whispered before throwing the dagger straight at his forehead.

The body disappeared before your eyes. You swallowed the lump in your throat. This was not the time to give him a minute of silence, you would do that when you returned to the castle. You pulled the dagger out of the wall and quickly left for the warehouse while the guards were distracted. The small wooden block Wasuke had put there to keep it from looking unlocked from afar allowed you to enter the warehouse without the key. You locked yourself in place. You took the dagger and pushed it to stab yourself in the throat. The rainbow dragon, feeling the adrenaline rush through your body, shot out of your mouth before you could hurt yourself. You ordered it to open its mouth to shove all kinds of weapons into its snout. You could finally breathe a sigh of relief that the plan was going according to plan. Swords, daggers, bows, axes, you crammed everything you could into 10 minutes. Pushing in as far as you could, you stuck your hand out the door and waved it like a flag. One of the crows called out in understanding for you to take shelter.

Step Four: The Distraction

Uraume patrolled the halls like every night, deep in thought. They wondered if they should check one last time to see if you needed anything else, but the late hour of the night deterred them. They decided they could wait until dawn. However, something in the air caught their attention: a pair of crows flying by, but it wasn't their presence that made them uneasy, but the place and time. Crows were common, but they rarely ventured out late at night. A pair of curses watching the area crossed their path, distracting them. Believing there was nothing out of the ordinary, they decided to ignore the black birds. Big mistake.

Without warning, a huge flock of crows crashed through the castle's glass with deafening violence, flooding every corner with their dark threat. "A surprise attack!" They thought, adrenaline beginning to course through their body. Quickly, they covered themselves with a layer of ice, seeking protection, but what he hadn't anticipated was that one of the crows hit the frozen barrier. The blow was so strong that it exploded like a bomb, throwing Uraume against the wall with such force that they fell unconscious.

The screams of the curses, overflowing from the ferocity of the attack, were the clear signal that it was time to escape with the cargo. Quickly, you took the rainbow dragon out of the warehouse and, without hesitation, you mounted it. As you soared through the skies, the curses continued to fight to save themselves, too busy with the rain of bomb crows that mercilessly lashed at them to see the giant dragon. You looked back, contemplating the chaos you left behind, and a proud smile appeared on your face. You had managed to successfully complete the plan, leaving a wake of destruction.

Final Step: Deliver the Cargo

You arrived at the commune with the rainbow dragon. Hiromi was already waiting for you with a group of people, to whom you would distribute the cursed weapons.

“You did it. You really did it.” Hiromi whispered to you in relief as he gave you a big hug.

“This is just the beginning, my friend.” You reciprocated.

You and Hiromi began to distribute the weapons among the guards who watched the borders. Mei Mei, as promised, received a giant axe for her magnificent work. Kuzakabe received a sword, like the vast majority of his compatriots. Nagi was next in line. She had her arms crossed and a face that smelled like farts. She really didn't like seeing you alive.

“How is your crazy sister?” Nagi asked you reluctantly.

“Dead.” You answered without blinking. “How is your brother who was crazy for her?” You gave her back to him.

“Dead like the rest of my family.” She answered, trying to imitate your tone, but her shaky voice gave her away.

Now they were in the same conditions. Older sisters completely alone because of a curse. You decided to be the oldest person in the conversation, it was the best to avoid resentment.

"Truce?" You understood her hand.

"Just because you're the Judge's friend." She answered reluctantly before shaking your hand. You smiled at her before handing her a sword.

After handing out the weapons to their new owners, it was time to return to the castle. You fine-tuned the last details of the plan with Hiromi while you stroked the soft fur of the rainbow dragon that rested majestically next to you.

"I'll try to look for information on how to identify sorcerers, but in the meantime, don't tell anyone that sorcerers exist. We need to hide Mei Mei in case Sukuna comes looking for the person responsible for the surprise attack and the disappearance of the cursed weapons." You explained.

“Of course. We’ll find a safe place to hide the weapons in case of an intrusive inspection, and I’ll see what I can do to get Mei Mei to cooperate with us in the future. She seems to be very interested in material goods,” Hiromi replied.

You gave him a knowing smile before climbing onto the dragon's back, but before you could try, Hiromi grabbed your arm to get your attention.

"Take care of yourself, please."

"I'll be fine." You told him.

"I'm serious. Promise me we'll see each other again."

"Hiromi…."

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself before anyone else."

"I promise." You squeezed the hand holding yours.

Hiromi scanned you with his gaze before letting you go. You jumped onto the dragon.

"See you later." You promised him.

"See you later." Hiromi whispered, clenching his fist behind his back, not wanting to let you go.

Uraume woke up sometime after the chaos had cleared. Their mind was clouded and their body ached with every movement. It had all happened too fast, a whirlwind of violence and destruction that left them stunned. Never, in all their years of service, had they witnessed anything like it. As they stood up with difficulty, they noticed the state of the castle. Black feathers covered the floor like a funeral carpet, mixing with the broken glass that reflected the faint moonlight. Every step crunched beneath their feet. The curses, those creatures that used to fill the halls with their menacing presence, had almost completely disappeared. Uraume pressed a hand to their still spinning head. It all felt like a fever dream, but the pain in their body reminded them that it was very real. Uraume looked around, searching for answers, but found only desolation. It was then, as they walked down the main corridor, that something caught their attention. A strange feeling ran down their spine as they realized what was missing.

“The lady!” They exclaimed before running to your room.

Uraume arrived at your room with hurried steps, their expression marked by urgency. Without a second thought, they pushed the door with such force that it crashed against the wall.

A heart-wrenching scream escaped your lips as you threw yourself behind the bed, holding the dagger in shaking hands. Seeing you jump like that and with a weapon in your hand, they let out a scream so sharp it seemed torn from the depths of their soul. Both of you stared at each other for a moment, panting, completely bewildered by the sudden chaos.

“Fuck Uraume!” You exclaimed, catching your breath. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Are you okay, miss?” Uraume asked you with their hand on their chest.

“I'm fine. Luckily those birds didn't attack here,” you said, relieved.

“Thank goodness,” Uraume sighed, returning to their monotonous voice. “It was a surprise attack, but it seems that everything has calmed down now. I will go to clean up before sending a report to the king about what happened.”

“I will go with you,” you offered.

“Why?” Uraume asked, confused.

“You scared me to death, so I won’t be able to go back to sleep,” you complained.

“I'm sorry, miss.”

THE UPDATE DATE WILL BE SUNDAYS FROM NOW DUE TO PROOFREADING! THX :3

Next →

Masterlist.

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[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

The Exsultet

Exult, let them exult, the hosts of heaven, exult, let Angel ministers of God exult, let the trumpet of salvation sound aloud our mighty King's triumph!

Be glad, let earth be glad, as glory floods her, ablaze with light from her eternal King, let all corners of the earth be glad, knowing an end to gloom and darkness.

Rejoice, let Mother Church also rejoice, arrayed with the lightning of his glory, let this holy building shake with joy, filled with the mighty voices of the peoples.

(Therefore, dearest friends, standing in the awesome glory of this holy light, invoke with me, I ask you, the mercy of God almighty, that he, who has been pleased to number me, though unworthy, among the Levites, may pour into me his light unshadowed, that I may sing this candle's perfect praises.)

(V. The Lord be with you. R. And with your spirit.) V. Lift up your hearts. R. We lift them up to the Lord. V. Let us give thanks to the Lord our God. R. It is right and just.

It is truly right and just, with ardent love of mind and heart and with devoted service of our voice, to acclaim our God invisible, the almighty Father, and Jesus Christ, our Lord, his Son, his Only Begotten.

Who for our sake paid Adam's debt to the eternal Father, and, pouring out his own dear Blood, wiped clean the record of our ancient sinfulness.

These, then, are the feasts of Passover, in which is slain the Lamb, the one true Lamb, whose Blood anoints the doorposts of believers.

This is the night, when once you led our forebears, Israel's children, from slavery in Egypt and made them pass dry-shod through the Red Sea.

This is the night that with a pillar of fire banished the darkness of sin.

This is the night that even now, throughout the world, sets Christian believers apart from worldly vices and from the gloom of sin, leading them to grace and joining them to his holy ones.

This is the night, when Christ broke the prison-bars of death and rose victorious from the underworld.

Our birth would have been no gain, had we not been redeemed.

O wonder of your humble care for us! O love, O charity beyond all telling, to ransom a slave you gave away your Son! O truly necessary sin of Adam, destroyed completely by the Death of Christ! O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!

O truly blessed night, worthy alone to know the time and hour when Christ rose from the underworld!

This is the night of which it is written: The night shall be as bright as day, dazzling is the night for me, and full of gladness.

The sanctifying power of this night dispels wickedness, washes faults away, restores innocence to the fallen, and joy to mourners, drives out hatred, fosters concord, and brings down the mighty.   On this, your night of grace, O holy Father, accept this candle, a solemn offering, the work of bees and of your servants’ hands, an evening sacrifice of praise, this gift from your most holy Church.

But now we know the praises of this pillar, which glowing fire ignites for God's honor, a fire into many flames divided, yet never dimmed by sharing of its light, for it is fed by melting wax, drawn out by mother bees to build a torch so precious.

O truly blessed night, when things of heaven are wed to those of earth, and divine to the human.

Therefore, O Lord, we pray you that this candle, hallowed to the honor of your name, may persevere undimmed, to overcome the darkness of this night.

Receive it as a pleasing fragrance, and let it mingle with the lights of heaven.

May this flame be found still burning by the Morning Star: the one Morning Star who never sets, Christ your Son, who, coming back from death's domain, has shed his peaceful light on humanity, and lives and reigns for ever and ever.

R. Amen.

[earenwen-leafwhisper]

The handmaid and the dragons

Pairing: Child Daemon Targaryen x servant mother nature fem reader, Baelon Targaryen x servant reader, Child Viserys x servant reader, Alyssa Targaryen x servant reader (All platonic)

Summary: Life at the castle can be most enjoyable as a servant when you can take care of two young dragon princes.

Author’s note: Viserys and Daemon are 4 years apart. Daemon was born in 81 and Viserys in 77

Reader are not describe, in my mind she is chubby/plus size, but she can be of all shapes.

English is not my native language, i'm sorry if mistakes were made. I will correct as soon as possible.

After a few months without writing fully, here is the first written of a multitude of ideas that I have in mind for some time. This One-shot could be continued in the form of headcannon or other One-chot, or multiple chapters.

---

The life of a servant was not easy, apart from early morning wakes and short nights due to requests from some residents and guests, not always very understandable and sometimes almost impossible to accomplish (as this noble woman, who wanted to enter one of the princes' chambers in order to try to seduce and marry the man she desired; it was as if that had ended with the dismissal of the said noble woman) did not allow you to have a good quality sleep.

But this life of servant, you would not have exchanged it for any other, because beyond the rebukes of some older servants and lords and lady, who could be haughty. You were in the service of the Targaryens, and although some nobles and peasants did not carry the members of this house in their hearts. You were not treated badly, on the contrary, you were considered better than servants of other smaller houses.

Since your early childhood you remembered having met people with Valeryan blood. Your parents had served under the late reign of Maegor and survived him because of their good labours. They then served Jaehaerys. You had followed their ways, as was customary for the people. You had become multi-tasker, allowing you to be better paid, and help your parents who were beginning to get old to serve the Targaryen house as well. You could go from kitchen to floor scrubbing, from washing clothes to helping princesses dress or hairdressing.

But more than that. More than this work. There were in that castle two small heads with silver hair, for which you had taken affection.

A few years ago, you had become a servant of Princess Alyssa when she was pregnant for the second time. You were one of many servants, but you always did your best to allow the princess to have everything she needed, in order to make it easier for her to wait for the birth of her second child. Being a hectic life, the rest offered and almost ordered by the masters, bored her to the utmost point, towards the end of her pregnancy, she could no longer ride on Meleys and was irritated for nothing, whether it be on the servants, her ladys in waittig. But when she calmed down, unlike other nobles, Alyssa apologized, knowing that she would not have reacted in this way if she was not pregnant.

But even in those moments, you loved the princess, not that you envied her, no, you loved her because she always behaved with respect.

---

When you seen the baby Daemon, you had taken a liking to him, how many times did you manage to give him gifts, however humble? You hadn’t counted, all you liked was to see Daemon play, or eat the cakes that you had prepared in the kitchens during your working hours. Just seeing him smile and recognize you made your heart warm. You didn’t forget the princess or Viserys when you made the cakes, but your favorite was always Daemon.

You always had a maternal nature, to care about others, but that nature is just manifesting more greatly towards Daemon. You never disrespected Alyssa, on the contrary, you worried about her, even though she was your age, you sometimes nursed her slightly, just out of concern for her health, like the day when she took baby Daemon to fly on Meleys’s back, you were worried.

“Princess Alyssa... are you sure you want to do this?...” The masters have advised against your health...”

Would you be afraid that Meleys would face evil against Daemon? Or would you not trust me?

“I have faith in you, princess... I know that you did the same thing with Prince Viserys.... It’s just that...”

“Fear not, Meleys will do nothing against Daemon, it’s only a little theft after all. It won’t hurt me.”

It is the close heart that you watched the princess go towards the dragonpit.

During the whole morning of labor, your mind was not focused on your spots. Every moment you could forget about Alyssa’s flight, something made you think of her or the children. Some servants with whom you shared your time of work, found your behavior strange, not understanding why you showed so much kindness and devotion to the royal family, that family which did not spank attention to the servants and people of the people, At least according to them.

All your stress went away when you saw Alyssa and baby Daemon return, it is with a sincere smile that you welcomed the princess, taking care of her and Daemon with the other servants.

Although you were a simple and humble servant, you had become close to Alyssa over the days, months and years, even when travelling for tournaments or festivities in other parts of Westeros. Alyssa ordered you to accompany her, the other servants did not see this in a good way, nor even the nobles who found it unnoble approach on the part of the princess. For they thought the nobles should stay among them, the others were nothing but nothing.

---

You saw the children grow, the first steps of Daemon towards Alyssa even gave you a small tear in your eye, so proud of Daemon’s progress. Not forgetting the progress of Viserys, He was 4 years old when you met him and now from his future 7 years, he loved playing with you, loving his wooden dragons by lending one only when it was sure to get it back later. He was a rather easy child, even more so because of his attraction for food, asking for cupcakes, the masters had more than once ordered you not to give any more to the young prince, but behind their backs, you gave one or two to please him.

You were not in direct contact with other members of the royal family, except Baelon, whom you saw radiating to the coast of Alyssa, as well as to her sons.

When the news of the new pregnancy of the princess. Everyone was happy, it took three years, but all hoped that the future event would be happy.

Oh... Alyssa...

---

You were awakened in the middle of the night, guards had come to fetch the princess’s servants. The corridors of the castle were dark to the limit of gloom, although they are illuminated by torches. To the right and left you could see servants, midwifes, guards and masters running through all the censes.

You felt a cold sweat through your back, a wind of panic engulfed you. Midwifes, was a sign that the princess was in full labor and about to give birth. But the presence of the masters, was bad omens, they came only when the birth was complicated to see serious. Alyssa was the only known person in the castle who was pregnant and about to give birth.

You passed in the corridor of the princess' apartments, horrible screams pierced ears, spanking you stop at the door, heart pounding, fear to sell, guards took you by the arms to force you to continue walking. You were assigned to the supervision of children while other servants were assigned to take over the orders of masters.

When you arrived, Daemon and Viserys were sleeping, unaware of who was going on in the castle. You sit on one of the chairs, watching the children, while trying to calm your breath, reassuring you as much as you could, praying to the gods, for the survival of Alyssa and the baby (whether you are a believer or not).

It was only in the morning, when you helped the children to prepare (make sure that Viserys does not wear his tunic upside down, tie their shoes), that Baelon entered. His hair was glued to his forehead by the sweat, his breath saccader. You turned your head to look at him before getting up from the ground on which you were kneeling, in order to bow down as required by protocol. But before you got up, Baelon raised his hand to stop you and walked towards the boys.

"My prince..." Your heart was beating, the anticipation of the news was great.

"The work was hard..." Baelon knelt before Viserys and Daemon, before taking them in his arms.

"Work?" Viserys looked at his father with questions.

"Your mother giving birth to a little brother..."

"Little brother?" Viserys’s eyes lit up, while Daemon seemed to be a bit soft.

"Yes, you will soon."

Baelon was happy and reassuring, he gave them each a kiss in the hair before raising his head towards you.

"Alyssa will need you, for now she needs to rest."

"Of course, my prince..."

"I know you’ll look after her."

You shook your head gently, your head was full of questions, all revolved around the princess and the newborn baby, the cries remained in your memory.

You only saw the princess when she was awakened after several hours of being unconscious. She was so full of life, she looked like a living dead, almost diaphanous. Her simple vision gave you a terrible desire to cry. Alyssa, seeing you, smiles softly, feverishly. You walked towards her before sitting down to lean out of her bed and gently take her hand, holding her company, explaining that Viserys and Daemon were happy to see her soon and have a little brother.

Alas, Alyssa’s health did not improve much, after almost a year the princess was very weak.

---

One morning, the nannies who took care of Daemon and Viserys had not been available, between one who was falling ill and the second who had to return to King’s Landing for family business, Baelon, whom you saw rarely, He ordered one of his servants to find you, so that you could look after the children. It was now days that the masters watched Alyssa, who slept more and more, ate less and less. Worrying everyone in the castle.

You decided to please the children, to make them stretch their legs in the company of guards, in the gardens of the castle.

The sun was shining, the light breeze of wind was refreshing, and you had placed yourself at the side of one of the fountains, watching the boys running in the garden gates gave you a smile, temporarily preventing you from thinking of Alyssa, and allowing you to live a little in carelessness. When Daemon fell to the ground after having tripped, he started to cry slightly before watching Viserys continue to run, he watched you with his eyes. You smile gently, before he gets up and walks towards you with tears in his eyes, he showed you his hands, covered with dirt and gravel.

“Y/nickname! Its hurt!”

“It’s all right, my little dragon, I’ll look.”

You gently took his hands, leaning gently to observe his hands, before taking a cloth, for the soaked in water to gently clean Daemon’s hands, he sniffed softly after moaning on contact with the cloth.

"That’s right, my little dragon, you are brave, like a proud warrior.” The tone of your voice was sweet and comforting to the young Daemon.

Daemon looked at you, then looked at his hands red with rubbing against his palms. When you laid a kiss on each of his palms, his eyes lit up, all forms of pain and sadness had withdrawn from his face. After all, soft drops on the little bobos are always miraculous remedies for children.

“Do you want to continue playing?”

Daemon shook his head, a big smile on his face, he went back to join Viserys, laughing as he pursued him.

You only came back at the time of dinner which could not be taken outside, the children in the company of members of the house Targaryen present at the castle, except Alyssa and Baelon, who was at his bedside. As for you, you were eating in haste in the room dedicated to the servants, talking with your friends, discussing the latest news while walking through the dark corridors.

The servants' dinners were often more courtly and of lesser quality than those of the nobles, but it was enough to give energy for all the day’s work.

“Apparently, Prince Baelon refuses to leave his wife’s bedside...” One of the king’s servants had just spoken.

Yes, her health is in perpetual decline, the masters fear that she will not pass on the next moons. One of the servants who had been looking after Alyssa had just answered her.

You listened to the exchange with attraction, trying to get information that had not yet been disclosed. But their discussions stopped when they noticed you. All knew of your closeness with the princess and children, taking care not to tell you about the royal family, lest you speak about it with the princess. You shrugged before looking at your friends and talking to them. It would have pleased the servants who did not like you, to show them that their behavior touched him. It was only when you were called to serve the young princes that you went out into the corridors, arriving near the dining room, Daemon ran in your direction, followed by Viserys. You took them in your arms before walking, a hand in the small hand of Viserys, while Daemon clung to your neck, while you carried it. The guards would follow you, ensuring the safety of the children.

Once in the children’s shared room, Viserys settled into a pillow that covered part of the floor in one of the corners of the room near one of the windows.

You settled down beside him, Daemon sitting on your legs in the direction of Viserys. It was a sweet evening, punctuated by the preparation of their bath, and some childish quarrels.

It was only when the guards opened the doors, and you looked in their direction. that you had a cold sweat.

The queen herself entered, she seemed paler then before, she almost wore a sick complexion. Your heart began to beat, your intuition told you that something serious had happened and how much you would have wished to have been wrong.

---

Tag list : @avalyaaa

[deesea-ao3]

Fun Lore Ideas for Fawcett City

I've been sitting on these concepts for ages and need to get them out of my system. For my current WIP, it was important that I have a strong concept for what kind of city Fawcett was going to be. While the plot isn't technically taking place in Fawcett, a huge amount of my lore interpretations/characterisations rely on there being a solid original setting to draw from. Also, it's super fun to extrapolate history and economy for a fictional magic city to try and make it feel as plausible as possible.

Now, to start with, I had to establish where the city would actually be located. Fawcett is typically represented and/or thought of as being in the Midwest, so I was able to whittle down my options even more. I couldn't have it too close to Central City, Keystone City, or Smallville since I wanted Fawcett to retain its isolated feel. It'd be harder for it to get away with being magic if it was a stones throw from speedster stomping grounds, for instance. In the end, I looked up old maps of America DC Comics had officially released for inspiration. What I got were these:

The first didn't have Fawcett at all, and the second had it placed near the border of Wisconsin. The latter was serviceable for my purposes. However, I wanted something more to draw from. I wanted to make Fawcett feel like an actual city with history before I slapped on the magic superhero. It technically was just an ordinary city until Shazam placed a portal there after all.

My second go of looking for inspiration was much more fruitful. I looked at a few fan-made maps and eventually stumbled upon this one in a reddit forum:

Upon closer inspection, I realised something.

That's fucking Chicago.

The idea that then formed was brilliant, my best one maybe ever. If I don't want to write a 2K+ document detailing an organic history of fictional Fawcett City, coupled with local industry and culture to boot, I can just STEAL a real one!

The existence of IRL Chicago is not necessary for my story, and its absence would be barely noteworthy in the grand scheme of things. Functionally, it wouldn't even be gone. Its location and major historical events would still have occurred, just under a different name. It not only saves me tons of labour as a writer, it's also fucking hilarious.

The heart of ALL of magic lies in an abdoned subway station in downtown Chicago Fawcett, the Windy city that houses pagan subcultures, talking animals, cursed objects and people who still think it's 1945.

Southern Lake Michigan has freshwater mermaids. The flat lands of the city proper are surrounded by bluffs as old as the ice age, which thrum with prehistoric magic. The sunset is always pink, and moonbeams are brighter somehow here. In the river that flows through art-nouveau styled skyscrapers swim fish with rainbow scales. The people are happy and chatty and full of little secrets, kept close and safe for rainy days. The woman who dresses in leaves and sleeps on park benches is liable to be simply human, but the jolly old milkman who visits you every morning is fae through and through. Weird is normal and normal is weird.

All while in Chicago, Illinois, one of the most populous, wealthy cities in America since the 1870s. The mechanic who enchanted your car to not break down anymore was raised by regular steel mill workers. The politician who dreams of addressing the city's entrenched class divides is stuck doing paperwork to establish legal protections for the local gnome population's tree houses. When it snows in winter, Yetis clear driveways and salt the sidewalks. No one talks about it much because what is noteworthy about public servants doing their jobs? So what if they're Yetis? You got a problem with that?

Fawcett blows Gotham out the goddamn water for weirdness, but because they're so nonchalant and humble about it, Gothamites walk around smugly assured of their tolerance for insanity, unaware of the bigger fish, which is the average Fawcett citizen. When tourists come to visit, the very genre of reality changes the second they step foot within city lines.

Fawcett solos, tbh. DC writers are weaksauce for not seeing the vision that is mystic Chicago city, home to all of magic.

[jenni2bameerah]

Some people confuse my extreme submission and want for downward mobility as a sign of self-loathing. It is anything but.

I can go to such places as I have a submissive soul that wants to show extreme devotion by incredible transformation and deep service to others.

To be reduced to a domestic servant and bringing my loved ones higher status, power, entitlement, joy, and freedom to explore their deepest desires is a humble and profound place to be. It IS my happy place.

I consent to it and want my betters to have a life of luxury. And to give them that I will be willing to do almost anything. But to be a maid is perhaps my most favorite role ever. There is beauty in such hard work and devotion.

I hope my journey sparkles yours whether you are the submissive or the dominant. Where does this doodle take you? Let me know what you think and what places in you it touches.

[lavrneryo]

Got Me Looking so Crazy Right Now

Politician!Suguru who is loved by his people, doing his job as a public servant without any records of corruption. He frequently visits places in the country himself to evaluate his term's performance. He connects with the people, often asking them for feedback towards his administration's leadership so he could work on more improvements while elected.

Politician!Suguru who usually stays in his office way beyond office hours, assessing and signing towers of paperwork. He prefers seeing the project proposals and other reports first hand rather than assigning them to his secretary and other executives. Talk about workaholic.

Politician!Suguru who is usually calm and stoic, only smiling politely when necessary, does his best to always look put together and respectable. His long hair neatly arranged into a bun, glasses perched on top of his nose, suit and tie tailored to fit him so well. He also always has his name pin and brooch pinned into his suit.

Politician!Suguru who's extremely over-educated. He isn't afraid to call out injustices and discrepancies within the industry of politics, even on national media. That is why he's feared and idolized at the same time.

Politician!Suguru who frequently entertains interviews, especially if they are about his plans for the upcoming years. Though it cannot be helped that people become a little too curious, sometimes prying into his personal life and asking him when he'll have a first lady, since he has never publicly talked or even entertained the idea of a relationship. He'll immediately dismiss the idea, claiming his first priority is public service.

Politician!Suguru who almost always declines when he is invited to a formal party, saying seeing other politicians who pretend to be so high and mighty while profiting off of the people disgust him more than words can express, claiming attending such events are a waste of his time and he'd much rather attend to his work matters instead. Except this time, he was forced to go by his assistant. He internally groans, but figures it wouldn't be so bad for a change.

Politician!Suguru who sees you there, young and relatively new to the industry. He wasn't completely clueless, of course, he's watched interviews of you before. He can say that you spoke very eloquently and you seemed like you knew what you were doing. Though he wasn't one to judge based off of a couple of interviews, he knows politicians are also great actors. Safe to say you sparked his interest.

Politician!Suguru then asks his assistant about you, to which his assistant immediately decides that it would be a great idea to approach you and introduce him, adding too much unnecessary information and pizzazz to his name which causes him to grimace slightly as he notices your amused smile.

He then shakes your hand, giving you a smile and a polite nod as his assistant scurries away to mingle with more people of authority, probably off to humble-brag about working for him. You return the gesture, introducing yourself formally. He stands next to you, leaning on the glass railing of the luxurious venue, drink in hand.

As the night deepens, you feel yourself loosening up a bit more around him. You've found out he's almost the same age as you, albeit a bit older, and that he views others the same as you do, mumbling something about "lying, stuck-up, pretentious pigs", in which you giggle at. Politician!Suguru smiles, hearing your giggle for the first time that night.

Politician!Suguru also finds out a lot about you. He figured you were an honest public servant who wanted nothing but equal rights, transparency with the use of public funds, proper taxation and just living wages. He was impressed with how passionate you sounded talking about your occupation, to say the least.

You both exchange numbers that night, personal ones, which he never does, he only has his family saved on his personal phone. (but ofc he won't tell you that). His chauffeur and assistant exchange questionable glances on the way home. Often times, he'd ask to be taken home early. Claiming he still has work to do. Except this time he smiles at his phone, looking at a picture you both took, in which you were both smiling and clinking your glasses together. He might've just found his first lady.

_____________________________________________________________

first time writing smth, I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD PLS,,,,,some power play maybe???? idk part 2 will probably be smut hehe plz don't b mean i'm sawft hashashsas geto except he's a politician and not a cult leader PLUS he's actually good ykykyk yes

[theworldbrewery]

1d8 Places to Rest in the City

The upstairs of the Coronet, a seedy and rundown public house in the industrial district. The pub is under new management, and has been undergoing extensive renovations in the hope of cleaning up its image. Despite the owner’s best efforts, pickpockets and thugs loiter outside. And most nights, a smuggler by the name of Smiley Sam can be found in the barroom, ready to trade in secrets, coin, or illicit goods.

The roof of the Third Regional Bank, an imposing edifice with an atrial dome and a cluster of gold statues above its grand doors. From this height, you can see the sprawl of the whole city, its flickering lights and flares of magic. The night watchman might need paying off, and it’s none too comfortable in rain or snow. But the gargoyles have formed a sketch comedy group, so there’s built-in entertainment.

The Magnolia Pink, a fabulous hotel with genuine silver floors. The suites are worth the expense, from the liveried servants who attend the guests’ every need to the plush, indulgent beds and decadent room service options. But rumor has it that for every night you pass in the Magnolia Pink’s embrace, the less likely you are to come out again — at least until you can no longer scrounge up the cash to afford just one more night.

Under the Bodhi Bridge. This brickwork overpass provides excellent shelter from the elements, particularly because some enterprising vagabond has knocked in part of the supporting wall and created an accessible niche roughly 15x15 ft. in size. In time, other vagrants have left their marks: symbols in thieves’ cant, broken bottles, worn-out boots, and a pile of logs inoculated with a variety of mushrooms.

Inchibald Quingle’s Lodging House, a crooked three-story structure with drafty rooms, narrow hallways, and two hearty meals a day. The elderly Mr. Quingle has handed the reins to his son, Inchie Jr., whose passion for cookery has earned the Quingle Lodging House its place on the map. Inchie’s other passion—taxidermy—does put some guests off their supper, however.

The Asylum of the Ragged Saints, a humble almshouse dedicated to housing the poor, the pensioners, and the downtrodden. Available only to those in need, the Asylum’s rooms are clean and orderly, but offer little privacy and even less comfort. Its patron, Lady Parsimony Cross, is a crotchety and bookish young woman who inherited responsibility for the Asylum from a more kindly and warm relative. She is greatly concerned with the idea that the Asylum is being used by those who do not truly need its services, and has begun imposing increasingly high standards of poverty and desperation to its residents.

An abandoned underground transport station, dating from a time immemorial. A rusting metal wagon rests on a sunken track, its doors jammed into the open position. Moth-eaten seats line an aisle within. The track extends into the darkness of an enclosed tunnel, which emits an eerie buzzing noise. If the wagon doesn’t hold any appeal, you can always remain on the buckling stone platform and examine its illegible signage and explore the chambers lined in cracked, mossy tile which branch from the main cavernous space.

The basement of the Ershae family home. The Ershaes are friendly people, part of a social network which offers safe housing to travelers. As members of this group, they host strangers willingly and are welcomed by other strangers in the network when they travel themselves. The sole condition of your stay is this: you must join the network and list your address among the available places to stay. If you agree, you may sleep in this place as long as you need without charge, though you are responsible for your own meals. The Ershaes’ basement is wood-paneled, with a shaggy orange carpet and a vividly green sofa bed.