#Plate type heat exchangers

[coltgroup]

Plate Type Heat Exchanger

A Plate Type Heat Exchanger plates are simple to maintain because they can be taken out and cleaned separately. But, since they may gather debris or smell, you should avoid them.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Staying

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠/ 𝙷𝚒𝚖

Your first year living with your favorite lads man and you get to spend the holidays together. How I imagine they act during this holiday season. [Requested by: 🌻 Anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

He’s the boyfriend who stands behind you and guides your hands in whatever food you’re prepping

Still a workaholic up until Thanksgiving day, but will find time to help you cook

Suggests to make more desserts because he can’t control his sweet tooth

makes your plate for you “Eat well my love”

tries to start his meal with a slice of pie ; you have to take it and make him eat some actual food first “Desserts are for after the meal” “Desserts can be a meal” “No”

tidying up behind you so much that you don’t even get the chance to help clean up

would definitely do a video call with you to his parents to wish them happy holidays

if you take him home to your family your parents would fall in love with him immediately

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

wants all the holiday sweets and treats

the type of boyfriend who wants to take you to every bakery so you can eat their limited time only holiday sweets

he brings you hot chocolate with marshmallows and a splash of peppermint while you decorate the house

stands by holding the decorations for you

he would definitely still be working during this time but, he would spend every moment he could with you when he’s home

watches Christmas movies with you until you fall asleep and he carries you to bed

hides your gifts in his office at the hospital if you start getting nosy

all over you when you’re baking Christmas cookies, showering you in kisses, arms constantly wrapped around you and sneaking a cookie here and there when you’re not looking

Cozy morning w/ Christmas breakfast before you exchange gifts

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

Wants to give you that New Years kiss you’ve been talking about

takes you to a secluded rooftop patio where you can see the fireworks and share a kiss “Now we’ll last forever” “There was never a doubt in my mind”

if he’s working he rushes home just to give you that kiss at midnight

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

100% a backseat chef while you’re cooking “You should probably turn the heat down” “Can you go paint or something?”

clingy af he would be all in your face while you’re trying to cook “Are you going to help or are you just gonna hang on me like a koala” “I am helping im here for moral support”

gets extremely competitive when your family pulls out any game “Im about to flip the table” “Please don’t”

Eats so elegantly your parents are wondering if you’re dating royalty (which you are)

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

Bought the biggest tree he can find “This is going to take weeks to decorate” “You should just stay here for the rest of the month then”

arts and crafts everything for decorations, he’s painting ornaments with you, anything you can find that you want as a decoration believe he will be making it for you/with you

complains about the cold like he hasn't experienced it before as you drag him to go ice skating or sledding “It’s too cold why is the sun out and i'm still freezing” “Maybe because thats how winter works Raf” “I hate it here”

wakes you up early as hell to open gifts, loves literally anything you buy him

Christmas movie nights w/ face masks, popcorn snacks, and matching pajamas

heavy on the matching pajamas, bought 12 pairs for 12 days of Christmas

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

watches the fireworks with you through the studio floor to ceiling windows wrapped in a blanket

doesn’t understand why you want a new years kiss so bad, but he’ll gladly do it of course

sips his champagne and pushes the cold liquid into your mouth as he kisses you now you shared a kiss and a drink right at midnight "I call that a two for one deal" "Stop talking"

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

Fighting tooth and nail to keep his ass out the kitchen “Xavier I got it don’t worry” “I can just stir the yams” “No really it’s fine just go relax you had a long day”

You end up letting him slice the turkey and he ends up slicing through the whole damn pan “Why don’t you just set the table….” “Yes ma’am”

not a single leftover because this man ate everything

if you took him home to your family for Thanksgiving your parents are questioning if you starve him “He has a bottomless pit in his stomach” “No I don’t” “Lie again”

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

Cold snowy days you two aren’t leaving the bed, he’s curling around you and snoring softly into your boobs

helps you decorate the tree, but asks endless questions “Where do you want this one?” “Just put it anywhere Xav” “Is right here fine?” “Yes right there is fine” “What about this one?” he’s not trying to annoy you he just wants Christmas with you to be perfect

Cookie decorating together, no cooking so it should be safe

late nights ordering in and watching Christmas movies or reading some books that fit the Christmas aesthetic

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

watches fireworks with you from the balcony with warm eggnog topped with cinnamon

be prepared to stay up late after that midnight kiss because he’s not stopping, both sets of lips will get kissed

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

Spending thanksgiving with him and the boy was like a mini family of it’s own

Luke and Kieran helped you prep and you made Sylus help as well “I need to slow cook these greens overnight so start removing the leaf from the stem please” “Are you telling me what to do?” “Yes …. I am …. is there a problem?”

Sylus constantly sends the twins and Mephisto back to the store so he has a reason to be alone with you while you’re cooking

constantly brings up how the chef should be doing this, but you insist that the whole point is to cook together "You know you can just send a menu to the chef" "No it's more home-y this way"

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

hands you his black card and takes you store to store telling you to have fun "I can buy anything I want?" "Anything"

takes you to a privately owned resort (He owns it) for a holiday Christmas trip, bringing Luke and Kieran along begrudgingly because you ‘didn’t want to leave your boys behind’

all those pictures and videos you sent him of fun stuff to do around the holidays he makes it happen

you wanna go snowboarding? he’s on it. Skiing? done. glass blowing Christmas ornaments? done.

Watches with the softest smile on his face as you and the twins decorate the big ass tree you picked out “Sylus I need you” “What is it Princess?” “Let me sit on your shoulders so I can get these ornaments on top of the tree” rolls his eyes, but puts you on his shoulders anyway

wraps you up in his arms and a blanket while you four have a Christmas movie night; carries you to bed when you fall asleep

watches Christmas musicals with you as well

living room is overflowing with gifts for you because this man bought you everything you’ve mentioned that you wanted for the past 3 months

his face may look annoyed when you drag him around from store to store and activity to activity, but he’s more than happy to do it as long as he’s with you

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

Argues with you until 11:59pm just to piss you off “How does good luck factor into this?” “Im not about to argue with you about this” “Too late sweetie you’ve been arguing with me for the last fifteen minutes” “Because you’re being so difficult do you not want-” he’d shut you up with a kiss right at midnight. “I guess this means we’ll last forever now huh?”

[jaysteels]

Titanium Heat Exchanger manufacturer, supplier, exporter - Jay Steel Corporation

Jay Steel Corporation is a popular name in manufacturing, supplying, and exporting high-class products like Titanium Heat Exchanger. A titanium heat exchanger is a device that transfers heat between two fluids while keeping them separated. The titanium heat exchanger is designed to withstand extreme temperatures and pressures, making it ideal for use in harsh environments. Its unique properties allow for efficient heat transfer and prevent the build-up of harmful deposits, which can reduce the performance and lifespan of traditional heat exchangers.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Rybas ⭑

Masterlist

A/N: I am so sorry anon for how long it took! (Like a month oops-) Still, I hope you like it ;)

Request: Yes

Pairing: Jealous!Aemond x Betrothed!Niece!Reader

Warnings: +18 MDNI, NSFW, very very possesive Aemy, toxic, reader riling Aemond up, argument mentioned, weak ass Baratheon, making out, tongue fucking ig? , oral (f receiving), p in v penetration, public sex (sort of iykyk) and orgasm denial oh and creampie duh

Summary: Due to an argument that ocurred between you and your betrothed before the feast, he chooses to ignore you. There is only one way to make his attention turn back to you.

Translation title: "Obey"

The air in the Red Keep was thick with the scent of roasted meats, honeyed wine, and the perfume of noble ladies, mingling together in a way that should have been enticing but only served to suffocate you. The hall was alive with music and laughter, the glow of thousands of candles reflecting off the golden plates and polished goblets. Your betrothal feast was in full swing, and yet, despite the grandeur of it all, you felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage.

Seated at the high table beside your intended, your uncle Aemond, you barely acknowledged the festivities. Your chin rested on your palm as your fingers drummed idly against the surface of the table. Across from you, King Viserys sat, looking pleased and weary in equal measure, while Queen Alicent kept a watchful eye on her son. Helaena, ever the dreamer, seemed lost in her own world, speaking softly to herself as she toyed with her goblet.

Aemond’s presence beside you was a cold, steely weight. Normally, his intensity made you shiver with something close to pleasure, but tonight, after your earlier argument, it only frustrated you. His silence was deliberate, his long fingers curled around his goblet, his sharp jaw tense. He was ignoring you, punishing you for your defiance.

You had always been headstrong, never one to be controlled easily. The idea that you were to belong to Aemond, that you were to be his wife- made your blood hum with a mixture of excitement and irritation. You could respect him, even admire him in some ways, but you would not be tamed like a dog. That was the source of your earlier disagreement, a whispered but heated exchange in the gardens before the feast.

“You will not behave like some common girl, smiling at any man who looks your way,” he had said through clenched teeth, his fingers firm around your wrist.

“And you will not dictate who I may speak to, Aemond,” you had countered, lifting your chin in defiance.

He had said nothing after that, only releasing your wrist and stepping back, his single eye burning with irritation. Now, he barely acknowledged you, sipping his wine as if you were not sitting right beside him.

Fine, if that was how he wished to play it.

With a deliberate movement, you rose from your seat, the scrape of your chair against the stone floor drawing glances from those seated nearby. You felt Aemond’s eye snap to you, but you refused to look at him. Instead, you lifted your skirts and descended from the royal table into the waves of nobles below.

The air was livelier away from the high table, filled with laughter and conversation. Lords and ladies alike bowed or curtsied as you passed, offering their well-wishes and compliments on your upcoming wedding. You accepted them with polite smiles, though your mind was already set on a particular course of action.

It did not take long to find a suitable distraction. Lord Borros Baratheon’s younger brother, Ser Lyonel, was standing near the wine casks, speaking with a few other knights. He was broad-shouldered and handsome, with an easy smile and a glint of mischief in his dark eyes. A known flirt, he was precisely the type of man who would set Aemond’s already short temper alight.

You approached with an air of confidence, letting your lips curve into a charming smile. “Ser Lyonel,” you greeted, tilting your head. “Are the Baratheons enjoying the feast?”

He turned to you with a grin, giving a bow that was just deep enough to be respectful. “My lady,” he said, voice smooth. “We are indeed. But I must admit, the feast has grown far more interesting now.”

You laughed softly, placing a hand lightly on his arm as if joking. “You flatter me, Ser. But tell me, is Storm’s End as grand as they say?”

He launched into an enthusiastic retelling of his estate’s grandeur, and though you were only half-listening, you nodded along, laughing at the right moments, leaning in just enough to give the impression of intimacy. Aemond’s eyes burned into you from the high table, but you did not look his way.

Minutes passed, and the tension in the air grew heavier. It was only when Ser Lyonel reached for your hand, brushing his fingers over yours in a teasing gesture, that you heard it.

A chair scraping back, too harshly, too abruptly. The sound of boots striking against stone with measured purpose.

Aemond was coming.

You felt it before you saw him, the sheer force of his presence cutting through the crowd like a blade. The nobles around you quieted as he approached, his movements slow, controlled- dangerous. His sapphire eye gleamed in the dim light, his face a mask of fury. 

Ser Lyonel, sensing the shift in atmosphere, straightened but did not step away from you. An idiotic move. Aemond stopped beside you, his hand clamping around your wrist in a grip that was firm, possessive. “I believe you have entertained my betrothed long enough,” he said, his voice deceptively calm.

Ser Lyonel had the good sense to hesitate, glancing between the two of you. “Of course, my prince,” he said smoothly, though there was a hint of nervousness beneath his facade. “I meant no offense.”

“You would do well to remember that,” Aemond replied, his fingers tightening ever so slightly before he pulled you away.

You barely had time to protest before he led you through the crowd, his grip never loosening, his pace determined. He did not stop until you were away from prying eyes, in a shadowed alcove beyond the grand hall.

“Aemond-” You tried to speak.

The words barely left your lips before he had you pressed against the cold stone wall, his body caging yours in. His breath was uneven, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you.

“You dare,” he seethed, his eye flashing with fury. “You dare to make a mockery of me in front of the entire court?”

You swallowed, but met his gaze with defiance. “Perhaps if you had not ignored me all evening, I would not have sought better company.” You snapped back.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he simply stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with slow deliberation, he lifted a hand, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before tilting your chin upward.

“You belong to me,” he murmured, the words both a promise and a threat. “And I do not share.”

Your heart pounded, but you refused to look away. “Then do not give me reason to stray.”

His lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl. “Oh, my sweet niece,” he whispered, pressing closer, his breath hot against your skin. “I will make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

And with that, he claimed your lips in a searing kiss, one that left no room for argument, no space for defiance- only possession. His tongue forced itself between your lips, his hands now moving to your waist. His fury and desire for you drove him to the brink of insanity. 

Aemond pulled you close against his body, his tongue dancing with yours in a heated exchange. You felt how hard you made him, his erection pressing against your stomach- and oh did it drive you further. Biting harder on his bottom lip, you drew slight blood from him, he groaned in response and the metallic taste swirled in both your mouths. 

A moan escaped your lips as Aemond grinded his clothed length against you, already he was desperate for friction. Clearly he had no patience left for your attitude- he need to fuck it out of you. It wasn’t the first time he had taken you, and certainly not the last.

Who could blame him for deflowering his niece before their wedding? Especially with your fluttering lashes and devious eyes, he couldn’t help it. You felt Aemond’s rough hands turn you around at your waist, the stone wall meeting your soft, heated cheek as he pressed you against it. 

The cold air hit your ever exposing skin as your soon to be husband hiked up the skirt of your dress. Helping him, you held up the bunched up fabric. You could hear him slicking up his fingers with his spit before he rubbed them through your already wet folds. 

He was furious and unforgiving- but not cruel. Even though he was more than ready to take you, he knew you always needed some preparation first. When he heard your mewls growing he dove in while spreading your thighs. His tongue entered your hole, drawing louder moans from you.

Your one hand held up your skirt while the other moved to Aemond’s head, begging him to come closer, to feed on your cunt. The sinful noise of Aemonds tongue lapping at your clit while sometimes tongue fucking your hole filled the empty dark space.  

If someone were to walk by, they would have a first row seat to the most vile show they had ever seen. But your betrothed felt how your walls tightend, your breaths coming out in short pants. Aemond knew you were close, he wasn’t going to let you off that easily.

He pulled back, lips and chin covered in your slick and he heard how you whined, he did not care. His hands moved to unbutton the lower buttons of his doublet before he undid the laces of his leather pants, his cock was straining against the fabric and he could no longer wait to ruin you. 

Yes- he would show you exactly how a Targaryen prince fucked, how the rider of the largest dragon in the world fucked. Removing his cock from his confines, he aligned it with your slick entrance, teasing you with his tip before harshly sliding in.

He made sure to fully bottom out, the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix so roughly made you cry out. It was a bit too loud, even for an empty hallway such as this. Aemond moved his hand over your mouth. “That’s what you get for your little act, you will take my cock and you will be grateful.” He sneered.

You nodded silently, giving in as Aemond started to pound into you. He was not lying, he would have no mercy tonight- and maybe, that’s how you liked it. He grunted and breathed heavily behind you as his cock felt the warm embrace of your walls.

Aemond knew he would never grow tired of the way your cunt enveloped him, the way the ridges of your walls stimulated his tip and shaft just right- He knew he had to be fast, they couldn’t stay away for long. 

He sped up his movements, fucking into you with such force that the noise of your connecting skin traveled through the Red Keep, over and over. The longer and harder he fucked you, the wetter you grew, making him able to thrust into you at a fast pace.

He was so so close, you could tell by the way his hips began to falter and Aemond grew louder himself. As his approach was nearing, he cared less and less for who heard, all he cared about was filling you up with his seed. 

He rolled his hips into you more deliberately, ensuring his tip got a delicious stimulation. That did it- his balls tightend as his release fills your tight cunt. Usually Aemond would stimulate your clit so you could cum together- but today he did not.  His back arched and he held you against him tightly, until he felt like he was fully empty. 

The way his sticky release ran down your thigh was an addicting feeling, but your clit still throbbed. He took note of your disappointing face looking back at him. “What? You thought you would get rewarded for your behaviour?” He tormented. “Show me you can be good the remainder of this insufferable night- and you might get what you want.” With that he made you return to the feast with his seed still dripping out of you.

[woantohae]

Touch me || Gong Yoo x reader.

WARNING: This one shot contains explicit language and sex scenes. I suggest discretion.

After dinner, (Y/N) and Gong Yoo were washing the dishes, while she washed, he dried. It was constant teamwork, a routine they did every time they finished eating.

It was a warm night, the temperature rising with each passing day. This summer promised to be hot, so there was no desire to do much during the day, other than taking a shower in the morning and before going to sleep. They were immersed in a comfortable silence, but it hid more desire than they imagined. Gong Yoo couldn't stop looking at his girlfriend. He thought she was worthy of admiration long before they started the relationship, when he met her for the first time he thought she was the most captivating and sweet woman who had ever crossed his path.

It wasn't until he exchanged words with her that he promised to win her over, despite the age difference. Gong Yoo was in love.

The same thing happened with (Y/N). She pretended not to look at him much the first time she saw him at work. His presence was magnetic, impossible to resist. He was the first man with whom she truly felt what love is.

She knew that her parents were not entirely in agreement with the relationship, although the time she introduced them to them the evening passed with laughter and promises to have dinner together again. However, nothing could interfere with what she felt.

"The pasta was delicious" She mentions, after soaking the last remaining dish, to pass it to her boyfriend.

The black-haired man raises an eyebrow and smiles sideways. "Yeah?" he receives the plate and dries it. He sets it aside along with the cloth, while he watches the girl dry her hands in the air and then wipe them on the cloth.

She nods and smiles softly.

"I'm grateful that in this relationship there is at least one of us who knows how to properly cook," she lets out a laugh. "I can make it up to you with a dessert I made. It's not much, but I must say it turned out good."

As she speaks, the man positions himself behind her. Heat radiates from their bodies at the closeness. Gong Yoo listens attentively to what his girlfriend says, while hugging her waist.

"It's a chocolate dessert. It's not much but i tried" she laughs shyly. Gong Yoo laughs into her neck. But that doesn't stop the kisses he plants on her skin. (Y/N) snuggles against his body and closes her eyes.

"Mhm... that sounds delicious. Especially if you made it, sweetie." He slides his hands down her waist to her thighs. (Y/N) feels shivers all over the caressed area, causing her heart to race.

"But I want another type of dessert...." he says.

Gong Yoo ventures his hands along the edges of (Y/N)'s dress and pulls it up while kissing her neck.

She sighs and feels his hands move up the fabric until he holds it against her stomach. "What would that kind of dessert be?" (Y/N) asks.

"You..." he says in a moan.

She moans and takes his hands to leave them on her breasts and begin to massage them. She stretches her neck to kiss him and feels how Gong Yoo reciprocates with strength and unleashed passion.

He kisses her while he puts his hand under the neckline of her dress, caressing her nipples. She brings her butt as close as she can to his hard area.

"Baby...." she says between her lips. She slides her free hand until it touches his pelvis over his pants.

He's hard as a rock.

Gong Yoo moans shamelessly. Then, he takes the initiative and lowers his rough hand to her intimate area, caressing it with a mixture of desperation and passion. He puts aside her panties and starts touching her.

"My princess is wet from just one touch of mine" he laughs lightly and puts his tongue in her mouth. She reciprocates, while continuing to hold Gong Yoo's hand against her tit and the other holding him in her area where she needs him most.

To her disappointment, Gong Yoo stops his movements and turns her around, grabbing her by her thighs and connecting their lips again. This time, he walks with her in his arms to the room.

Passion consumes them, in such a way that they never separate their lips, not even when Gong Yoo lays her down on the bed. He lies on top of her, intertwining his hand with hers and putting his hand next to her face. (Y/N)'s hair is a mess on the soft mattress. She feels the air brush against her breasts, because her boyfriend made sure that the top of her dress fell to the level of her ribs.

Gong Yoo runs his hands over her body, clutching her skin in remarkable desperation. The girl moans, with a sound that has become a habit for them in the minutes they have been discovering their bodies. An act that has become intimate and almost routine for both of them.

"You're amazing," Gong Yoo whispers against her lips. She barely smiles, she's so focused that the man's hands won't leave her body.

(Y/N) pushes him with her body as best she can and turns him, leaving him underneath her. Gong Yoo smiles amused and lets her take charge of the situation. As she settles into his lap, he sits up and removes his own shirt in seconds. The girl admires him and smiles. (Y/N) starts to take off her dress, but is stopped by his hands. She frowns slightly and he just proceeds to caress her cheek tenderly.

"I want you to keep the dress on," he explains. "It's my favorite of yours."

She leaves it on and feels him pull down his pants and boxers. His manhood becomes erect to the level of his stomach. Gong Yoo raises the edges of her dress again, sliding his rough and cold hands over the girl's butt, squeezing her cheeks, to which she flinches a little and lets out a small laugh. Gong Yoo raises an eyebrow, amused at the reaction. He squeezes it again and she clings to him, hugging him to her chest. Gong Yoo laughs and quickly pulls down her panties, not wanting to keep her waiting more.

They are both desperate for each other. Gong Yoo throws the girl's underwear aside and prepares her with his long fingers. She lets out a whimper. She needs him.

"Please" she begs "I need you so bad"

Gong Yoo nods as his lips consume hers again. While kissing her, Gong Yoo unexpectedly introduces his manhood into her body. She moans surprised, but delighted. (Y/N) moves guided by his strong hands on her waist. It is a circular and slow movement at first, so slow that it hurts. Gong Yoo grunts and takes care of brushing off the girl's hair that falls over her breasts and then sucks one urgently. She stretches her chest to give him more access, tugging at the man's black hair as she feels the attention he gives to her chest.

The sound of their bodies colliding with each other and the bed moving is the only thing that can be heard. Now the rhythm changes and that's when Gong Yoo turns her over, now he wants to take care of the situation.

"Oh god. Does it feel good, love?" he moves faster. She doesn't utter a word, so immersed in the ecstasy of the moment. She can only barely nod her head. However, she tries to murmur something to him.

"What's that?" He whispers in her ear "Come on, baby. Tell me and I'll give you everything."

"Please... touch my tits" she asks in a whimper. He looks at her and brushes away the hair that falls from her forehead as he continues to pound into her. Gong Yoo kisses her forehead. "My poor angel. She wants me to play with her tits. Let me take care of them" He lowers his head and envelops her tit with his mouth, sucking desperately. With one hand she presses his head against her chest, while with the other she hugs his butt so that he reaches the depths of her being with the thrusts he gives her.

(Y/N) feels close. The burning is pleasant but unbearable any longer. Gong Yoo feels her squeezing him with her folds. He is about to explode for her.

The climax is about to reach them both.

"Does my baby want to cum?" He lifts his head from her tits and slides his hand to her clit, encouraging the rhythm. She nods frantically. "Please... I want to cum".

Gong Yoo thrust her with his fingers and his penis, without stopping. He wants to collapse with her.

A warmth appears in her stomach, but quickly replaced by the sensation of having him so deep inside her. The man removes his fingers from inside her and intertwines his hands with hers, and she can feel how wet they are. He guides their joined hands until they are positioned on her stomach, feeling him inside of her. Gong Yoo smiles flirtatiously and looks into her brown eyes. "Oh, look at that. Do you feel me? Do you like feeling me inside you?" he asks.

"I love it baby" she nods "Cum inside me please" she pleads.

Gong Yoo moans at her whimpers and plead and that's what it takes to explode his cum inside her. He grunts and after a few seconds she comes, without any shame.

He lets his head fall onto her chest and she breathes as she strokes his black hair. Her dress is messy and she feels hot just having it on. "You're amazing, sweetie," he whispers into her skin. (Y/N) smiles with her eyes closed trying to catch her breath

"We should replace our morning runs with this cardio, don't you think?" Gong Yoo offers. She laughs and looks at him amused. "It doesn't sound like a bad idea." He laughs.

He moves away from her body and she already misses him. Gong Yoo takes care of tenderly removing her dress and giving her a smile before removing it completely from her body. She lets him do it. Gong Yoo gets up from the bed, looking at her shamelessly, scanning every corner of her skin with his gaze. (Y/N) watches him from the bed, feeling the sweat run down her body. Gong Yoo disappears through the bathroom of the room and she tries to tidy her hair in that time, leaning on the wall of the bed. Then he returns with a small wet towel in his hands, while she shamelessly observes his entire magnificent body.

Gong Yoo sits on the bed next to her and taps her thigh twice for her to open her legs. (Y/N) spreads her legs and he cleans up the remains of both of them, caressing her thighs in the process. She licks her lips, especially when Gong Yoo lowers his head and kisses her thighs lovingly, up her stomach to her tits and then to her mouth. She reciprocates, running her hands over his neck. They separate and rest their foreheads on each other's. "I love you" Gong Yoo says. She smiles tenderly, feeling her heart rejoice with joy upon hearing those words that she has heard so many times before come from his lips.

"I love you too" Gong Yoo smiles and hugs her to himself, allowing them both to lie down. She turning her back on him and he imprisoning her, wrapping his arm around her body and placing his hand on her tit in a soft gesture.

"Now rest" he says "Tomorrow we must implement this new exercise so we don't have to get up so early"

She laughs.

"Ok"

And with that, they both lie down until they close their eyes. Anxious for the morning to come.

[dameronology]

complex (logan)

summary: honestly i was just listening to complex by katie macleod and i started typing and this is what happened, it's only 800 words but hey-ho.

warnings: arguments, so much swearing, logan is kind of a dick

Your residual anger hung thick in the air like heat in the summer.

Your apartment was full of signs—little reminders of your argument, tiny clues to point to the hurt in your chest. The blankets on the sofa were still tangled from where Logan had slept there last night. There were two empty bottles of whisky beside a smashed plate on the coffee table, matched with angry claw marks where he'd made the wooden structure his victim. Most obviously, you and the man you loved stood on each end of the room and the argument, chests heaving from shouting and fists balled up with rage. 

"I fucking hate you," you declared.

"No, you don't," Logan deadpanned, "you hate me right now, but really, you love me."

"Don't," you paused, taking a deep breath, "don't tell me how to feel."

"But you're allowed to tell me how to feel, huh?" he challenged.

There was another strangled sigh in your mouth. You couldn't keep sighing. You needed to come up with something new. Yelling had never been your thing. Maybe Logan's, but not yours. He hadn't even yelled for this entire fight. There had been heated exchanges, sure, but even in his most frustrated moments, he hadn't dared raise his voice. He had that much self-control.

"I can't look at you," your eyes fell to the floor.

Logan let out a snort. "Can't look at me, huh? Can't look me in the eye?"

This whole thing had started because the furry fucking moron had said something stupid. Then, he'd made it even worse when you'd pointed it out. It was like Logan had brought himself a proverbial shovel and was rewarding himself by digging a hole. He was ten feet down, and he couldn't see anything, save if he looked up and saw you glancing down at him with bleary eyes in his self-sustained grave. You could have reached down your hand to help him out but it was too far.

"Fuck. You."

Your chest heaved as you shoved past him, shoulders hitting his with a thud. Logan had barely even processed what had happened before the bedroom door slammed in his face. The force caused a picture on the shelf beside it to fall, the glass smashing into three separate pieces. He leant down to pick it up, turning the frame over. It was a picture of you at Coney Island two years ago; the wind was blowing your hair back, faced pressed to Logan's as he scowled. They were sweeter times.

Logan glanced up at the ceiling - or the sky, whatever the closest thing is.

"Whoever the fuck is up, that's not fucking funny."

He stopped at the door.

To say his heart broke when he heard you crying on the other side would be an understatement. There was a lot of sounds that Logan hated; his ring tone, his alarm sound in the morning, Wade Wilson's voice...but above all, the sound of you crying felt like a punch to the throat. It was even worse for him to know that he was the one who caused it.

Logan didn't stop before he opened the door. He booted it, body crossing the room in seconds to meet you at the bed. You were curled up, hugging his pillow to your chest and crying into yours.

He fell to his knees beside you, warm hands pulling your arms away from your face and towards him instead. A pair of strong arms came to wrap around you and in seconds, you were pressed to his chest.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, "don't cry. Please don't cry. Punch me, slap me, fuckin' kill me if you want but please don't cry."

A little sob escaped your throat. "You're so frustrating."

"I know," Logan gave you a small smile, "christ, I know. And I am so fucking sorry."

He re-centred you on the bed, organising the pillows so that they were behind you. The mattress dipped beside you as he climbed under the covers, pulling you back into his side. You were still glaring at him, still refusing to throw you a ladder down his special grave.

"I let my anger get the best of me sometimes," Logan said, "maybe I don't shout at you or get angry the way I do at other people, but it...it manifests in more fucked up ways, I think. I like arguing. I love riling people up. I don't like doing that to you, though."

"You did, though."

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmured. "I'm trying my best. I know my best is absolute bullshit but...I am trying."

You tangled your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. "I know. It's okay if you want to keep trying."

Logan softly smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[harrygoeswest]

Friday Night

A Friday night gig featuring London, a Lime bike, and Harry Styles as your doting date.

992 words of fluffy nothing for the lovely @harry-on-broadway’s little fic challenge. I haven’t written anything Harry-related for a while so apologies if this is trash <3

~~~

It’s officially scarf weather, you decide, as you stand outside the Roundhouse one early October evening, scarf-less.

The temperature has dropped, you’ve pulled your winter coats out of storage, and your ears get cold on your morning walk to work now. Part of you is relieved—the heat was starting to bother you, make you lethargic and tetchy. Another part hates that flu season is imminent. But…Halloween.

Pros and cons, pros and cons.

While you wait, you watch the pedestrians idle on by, and the traffic creep past in that typical Friday night crawl. Commuting anywhere is hard. Commuting in London is like suffering in the fiery pits of hell. But this is what you signed up for, and in all honesty, something about the hustle and bustle of city living settles something in you, as strange as that sounds. You’d never been stagnant, and it’s hard to reach a point like that in a place that never sits still.

With a boyfriend that never sits still.

Speaking of…

A man on a Lime bike rings his bell as he passes by, and you can’t help the roll of your eyes. You watch as he brakes to a stop in the nearest bike park, and bury your nose beneath the warmth of your coat. Your eyes track his movements as he swings his leg over, secures the bike and ends his trip on his phone, before stalking in your direction.

He’s wearing simple grey wool trousers, one of his many Mickey Mouse t-shirts, and a navy shirt over the top with his black Vans. His hair is styled in this strange faux hawk, mullet type way again, that on anyone else you would hate. But on him…?

Nope. Not at all.

You take in a deep breath, anticipating that expensive cologne he always wears, and your mouth waters when it hits your nostrils. You release your inhale on a sigh.

“I think,” you start as he halts right before you, green eyes smiling downward into yours, “at this point, it’d probably be cheaper to invest in your own bike. You know?”

He purses his lips. “I’m giving back to the community.”

You bark a laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

Harry grins, then leans down to press his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You match his smile and kiss him back. “No bumbag today?” You jest, peering around his waist and hips for any sign of his ‘banana’ bag.

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, but it’s all in good fun. “Not today.”

You kiss your teeth. “Shame.”

He takes stock of you then, eyes roaming your bundled up frame. “Are you cold?”

“Just a bit.”

“Should’ve put a scarf on, baby.”

“I know,” you whimper.

“Ready for some food?” He points to the door of the restaurant attached to the venue.

“Yep.”

He saunters past you, snatching your hand up as he goes.

“Harry?”

He halts, turns back to you with a comically expectant look, and lowers himself at the waist until you’re eye-to-eye. “Yes?”

“Got the tickets?”

His expression freezes, and he does this nerve-wracking, panicky pat down of his chest, hips and backside before he relaxes, clicks a finger at you, and says, “On my phone. You can do that these days, you know?” And then pecks the tip of your nose with his lips.

You playfully whack him in the chest. “Fuck off.”

Inside, music is playing at an almost obnoxious level, only made worse by the fact that it’s one of Harry’s old songs.

You say old, because it’s just turned seven. “Aw,” you coo.

Tables upon tables are full of pre-gig goers grabbing a bite, talking loudly and boisterously. Thankfully, one of you was smart enough to book ahead, so when you speak to a host, you’re taken to one of only two free tables and handed over menus.

Dinner is spent sharing stories of your day, exchanging easy banter and casual affectionate touches. You steal food off Harry’s plate when he’s not looking, and he steals food off yours when you are looking without an ounce of shame. Once the bill is paid, you head inside the venue hand-in-hand.

You find a corner out of the way but with a good view from the balcony, and Harry glues himself to your back, arms wrapped tightly around you—taking up position for the rest of the night.

When the band starts, he bobs and sways with you in his arms, singing along to the words while his chin rests on your head. He dances more during the upbeat songs and leaves little kisses to your cheek and neck during the slower, sadder songs, but whatever his mood, he’s infectious, and you can’t help but join in.

At the end of the night you filter out into the cold October night air.

“Your place or mine?” He asks as you wander away from the crowds, his hand still clutching yours tightly.

You pretend to think about it. “Your bed is bigger.”

“That’s always your answer.”

“Then you should know better than to ask.” You give him a saccharine smile.

He pinches your cheek. “Your place is closer.”

“My place is a dump at the moment.”

“When have I ever cared?”

“You should care.”

“I really don’t, though. Mine isn’t exactly tidy either.”

You peer up at him, and he turns an indulgent smile on you.

“Fine,” he concedes. “We can go to mine, but we’re going on a bike.”

“The fuck we are. I’ll go home by myself in that case.” You start walking the opposite way, but Harry drags you back towards him with ease.

“The fuck you will.”

Then, right there in the middle of a still busy London pavement, he cups your cheeks and kisses you. And like the helpless fool you are, you let him.

“I’ll get us an Uber,” he says against your lips.

Your grin is triumphant.

~~~

Peace and love, friends :)

[gojo-mochi]

Hiiii ❤️ May I (pretty) please get a short steamy "what are we?" reader with Nanami showing her exactly what they are? TvT

im so SORRY IT SO LONG JUST SKIP TO WHERE IT SAID "A short drive..."

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Female Reader

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Warnings: Bit of crying from reader, small emotional breakdown.

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Sexual Content: Creampie, Mating press, ,Praises, Nicknames: "Love, Princess,"

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Word Count: 3.6k (im sorry...)

The first time you and Nanami stumbled in bed together was on a night where you two were both working overtime. Both feeling frustrated at the shitty higher-ups who kept piling work on you with no expectation of a raise. You and Nanami weren’t that close before, just regular work colleagues for the most part, but with the power of hating on the same thing, that night you and Nanami grew closer than you could have ever imagined. 

 What started as a boring work night turned into a shit talking fest about your managers, which turned into you asking Nanami out for a drink and then ultimately into you drunkenly stumbling into Nanami’s apartment and on to his bed. His hands roaming on your body, your own hands grasping on to his hair as he tears your work clothes off of you. Your bodies entwining with each other in a heated, intoxicated mess, you two gave into your wild desires with no remorse that night.  

Well, at least the remorse didn’t really set in until the start of the early morning. Waking up alone in an unfamiliar room, with various love bites and marks scattered across your body. Your head throbbing trying to look for an answer to what happened, then the smell of coffee and cinnamon hits your nose.

Nanami walks in the room, looking just as disheveled as how you felt but still giving off a look of elegance as he walks forward towards you. Holding a mug of coffee and a plate of cinnamon pancakes in his hands. Greeting you with a warm smile and joining you on the edge of the bed, handing over the food that you gracefully devoured. 

As you were shoveling the fluffy morsel of food in your mouth, Nanami gently recapped what happened last night. Then, when he was done, he turned to you with a soft smile and brushed some hair stuck to your cheek. His fingertips were warm, and his smile was soothing to your soul. He leans in to kiss your forehead and murmurs softly that he wants to continue forward with this relationship with you. 

With pancakes still stuffed in your cheeks, you could only nod in agreement with him; you did want to continue whatever this was. Nanami smiles wide and cuddles close, resting his head on top of yours as his arms delicately wrap around you so as to not hinder your movement.  

“I’m glad you agree, Y/N…” 

You murmured back in agreement. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with Nanami? The only thing was that you didn’t really know what kind of relationship you were agreeing to. Did he mean a casual relationship, friends with benefits type? Or did he mean like a real exclusive relationship? Your head was too full of mush to ask at that moment. 

You didn’t get a chance to ask Nanami what he really meant by it, since work got more chaotic, your bosses got even shittier, and the overtime got longer. Which leaves no room for an exchanging of words when Nanami pulls you into his arms after every shift and you two both fall into bed together again and again. The sex was even more amazing when you can remember all of it, and Nanami was still sweet and caring afterwards as well. 

So you just kept falling deeper and deeper in the hole, falling more in love with Nanami every day, unsure of what to call your relationship.

It was another late night at the office; your eyes almost bloodshot from how long you've been staring at the computer screen. You don’t even check the time when you feel Nanami pull your chair back and gently hold a hand over your eyes. 

“It’s time to stop now, darling. I’ll take care of your workstation; just go and pack up; I’ll be with you soon.” You felt his lips kiss the top of your head as he pulled your chair out some more and shut down your computer. You gather up your items and your bag as you groan and stretch out your weary limbs. Trudging over to the elevator while you wait for Nanami to be done—this was almost like a routine you guys do every night now. Nanami always volunteers to clean up after you, like the gentleman he is, and then you guys go back to his apartment to relieve some stress. 

A short drive in Nanami’s car and up the elevator into his apartment, walking into the familiar area, you take off your shoes and coat as Nanami follows in behind you. Hands on your shoulder, his lips on the back of your head, ghosting down to the nape of your neck as his hands go to your chest. 

Unbuttoning your top as you stumble your way into the bedroom, turning around to meet Nanami’s lips with your own. Your shirt fully unbuttoned at this point as his skillful hands go to do the same to your bra. Slowly pushing you backwards until you reach the bed, he pushes you down gently so you sit down on the edge of the bed. His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, leaving kisses at every moment. 

Nanami then kneels down, his hand going up from your waist to your shoulders as he discards your top and bra, throwing them to the side. Kissing down the middle of your chest, making you giggle a little as he gets to your belly button. He stops the kisses there as he goes down further to take off your shoes one by one, then back up to undo your pants, giving your thighs a soft squeeze in the process. 

Down to just your panties now, you take a glance to look at Nanami, finding his eyes to be full of desire and hunger. He parts your thigh apart, continuing his mission to mark every inch of your body with kisses. Taking a cheeky bite on the inside of your thigh as his hand massages the other one. His kisses get wetter and sloppier as he gets closer to your panties, until his nose is pressed right up against your clothed clit.

You shudder as you feel Nanami taking a deep inhale in through his nose, basking in your scent. His eyes half-lidded as he pulled himself impossibly closer to your core. There was a stark difference between the Nanami you’re seeing now and the one at work. The one at work being more stoic and calm, having an unshakable sort of demeanor about him. 

While Nanami right now… is acting like a dog in heat, shaking his face back and forth on your damp panties. Getting your scent all over his face without an ounce of shame in him, just pure carnal desire radiating from him. You make a move to grab a lockful of his hair, making him groan loudly. Eyes blinking up at you, just full of intensity. 

“Na-nanami…A-ah!” 

Nanami pulled your panties to the side with his teeth, exposing your wet cunt to the open air. Poking his nose right on your slit, wetting the bottom half of his face in your juices, Nanami pulls back with a soft grin on his face, hearing your cute little whimpers from his action. 

He gives a small kiss on your throbbing clit and goes back to rubbing his cheek between your legs. His deep voice murmurs out as he continues to get your scent all over him. 

“I keep telling you to call me Kento, darling, I really want to hear it coming from your lips....” He fiddles with the hem of your panties as he looks up at you, awaiting your answer. 

Your hand goes back to pet his head, feeling his fluffy hair gliding in between your fingers, stalling for time as your mind mull over how to answer that. Calling him Kento feels like it would be a huge step in your relationship. Even though you guys had sex multiple times before, calling him by his first name just felt so personal… 

Does him telling you to call him Kento mean that he wants this relationship to go to the next step? Is it already on that step? Or is this just a kink of his, and you mean nothing to him?

All these questions swirl in your mind, the silence in the room growing too long for Nanami’s liking, so he gets off the floor and envelops your hand with his. Catching your attention as he leans in closer to you, kissing your knuckles softly. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind, my dear? It pains me to see you so worried.” 

Your heart twists at the sight of Nanami looking at you so worryingly; your voice catches in your throat, and you start to feel tears well up in the corner of your eyes. All the emotions you were pushing down came rushing back up all at once in this moment. Nanami instantly got up on the bed and went to hold you as soon as he saw the first tear fall down your cheek. 

Holding you against his chest as you try to voice out apologies in between your cries. He shushes you gently, having no need for your apologies; he only responds in a worried tone. 

“What made you cry, my darling? Was it something I did?” 

Hearing how sincere he was made you even more ashamed of your hot tears. You buried your head on his shoulder and mumbled out a quiet reply back.

“N-no, it wasn’t you. I just.. I don’t know.. I just don’t know what I am to you.” 

You felt Nanami's whole body freeze right under you, your heart dropped at the feeling and you were quick to spew out apologizes again for making the mood awkward. Nanami leans away and tenderly places his hands on your cheeks, his thumb wiping away a stray tear coming down. 

His face and voice were full of confusion as he asked you what you meant by that. You swallowed dryly, scared to say anything more that might ruin what you have with Nanami right now. But, you can’t just pretend like everything was fine after you cried in front of him, so you took a deep breath and asked the question.

“What are we?”

Time seemed to stop as soon as the question left your mouth; Nanami didn’t even blink, just staring at you motionless. Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach; you fucked up; you felt like you fucked up so bad. You need to do something to fix this; try to talk your way out of it or say you were joking or-

“Darling.” 

Nanami's voice broke the silence first. His hands were still holding your face so delicately like the slightest pressure might break you. He leaned forward until the gap between you two was only an inch. 

"Oh, darling, this was all my fault. I should have made it clearer what you truly mean to me.” 

He tilts his head and leans forward fully this time, until his lips press against your. Tongue slowly coming out to trace your bottom lips, wetting it nicely and gently prodding until he could slip it inside. His hands move to the back of your head and to the small of your back as he closes the distance between you and him even more. 

Taking your breath away with each swipe of his tongue on yours, pushing you down onto the bed, his body still attached to yours. Breaking away just for a moment so he could take his own clothes off, annoyed at the lack of skin to skin contact with you. Tearing at his own shirt and pants at a rapid pace, just because he couldn’t bear not touching you for even a second. 

Nanami cups your chin in his hand as he starts to pepper your face with kisses, murmuring sweet praises that leave you both embarrassed and joyful upon hearing them. 

“My dear, have you not noticed what you have been doing to me all this time?” 

Smooch Smooch Smooch

He places kisses on your brow, your nose, and your cheek. 

“You’re the reason I actually look forward to coming to work every day.”

Smooch Smooch Smooch

More kisses on your lips, down your neck, and then back up to the lobe of your ear.

“I am never letting you go, darling. My entire body and soul were captured by you, long before we shared our first night together.” He chuckles, his nose bumping along your hairline as he takes in a deep breath of your scent. 

“I am all yours; your mere presence is enough to shake me to the core. So, you ask what you mean to me?”

“Darling… You mean the entire world and mean to me. Sorry if that sounds cheesy or overexaggerated, but I truly mean that with all my heart. Life before meeting you and getting to know you was like a motionless and colorless film. Just living day to day, from one point to another, without any real goals.”

He sighs and leans back to look at you face to face, his eyes full of love and truth. 

“You brought color back to my life, it was like I was coming back to life for the first time.”

He sighs and leans back to look at you face to face, his eyes full of love and truth. 

“But if you can’t believe my words, then my actions will just have to make up for it…”

Suddenly, you sense one of his hands grazing your thigh, traveling all the way up until his thumb hooks in the middle of your underwear.

Sliding it to the side and lining up his cock with your dripping entrance. His bulbous tip is just barely pushing inside your walls. Nanami gives you a direct look nose to nose with each other in this intimate pose, while your mind is still processing all Nanami said.

"Do you trust me?" Nanami spoke softly to you, expressing all of his feelings directly in front of you. There was also a tinge of shakiness in his voice, a slight anxiety that you would tread on his heart after all of this. Even with your mind muddled, you knew a single fact for sure: you cherished and trusted Nanami with your entire being.

“I do… Kento” 

You put your arms around Nanami and draw him in for a kiss, while sinking his cock inside you. It wasn't your first time having sex with Nanami, but this time was different as his cock began to stretch out your walls. It appeared more full and filling, as if he was hitting deeper than in the past.

You moan into each other's mouths, the kissing becomes sloppier with each passing second, with each thrust that Nanami delivers. The tip of his cock hits the same spot every time with accuracy. Nanami knew the precise area to drive you mad, and his cock carved a niche there, marking his territory and claiming you as his own.

You gasp out of the kiss as Nanami angles his hips to go even deeper inside you, tilting your head back as your eyes start to roll back a bit too. Your face flush slightly from embarrassment from getting riled up so easily. Nanami didn’t relent even a bit after this though, mouthing and biting on the sensitive parts on your neck. 

His hot tongue ran up and down your skin, tasting your sweet sweat dripping down on it. 

"Oh my god, sweetheart." After a moment of stuttering hips, Nanami growls and bites down on your shoulder, using his tongue on the wound to soothe it. Now, as he slows down the speed, he makes sure that each thrust still reaches as deep as possible while giving you tender love bites on your neck and shoulders.

Feeling himself losing control, Nanami grips onto your thighs, his hands squeezing the sensitive flesh. 

“Darling… Darling, I can’t ho-hold back anymore.” Nanami pants out.. His voice sounded strained as he started to plead to you, “I need more of you, fuck… no, I need all of you.” 

Even in this situation, with his cock fully buried inside of you and Nanami on the verge of losing control, he pulled back just enough to gauge your reaction, to see whether you were still willing.

Your voice was nearly completely gone, lost in a haze of ecstasy. Yet, you were aware that you desired a lot more—, for Nanami should offer you everything he has. A gentle "Please." emerges on your lips.

That answer was enough for Nanami to push on, sliding his cock out of your cunt evoking a pitiful whine to emit from your throat. He coos at you sweetly, moving your hair away from your forehead to get a better look at your eyes. He leans over and adjusts the pillows beneath your head, fluffing them up before giving you a light kiss on the forehead. 

Your face shows a confused expression which made Nanami chuckle lowly, “Don’t worry, love. Just making sure you’re comfortable before I fuck you senseless.” Your mouth drops at his casual remark as he winks at you. Your dripping cunt now visible to him as he holds the back of your knees and pushes them up to your chest. He slaps his hard cock twice on your pussy, making you shudder with each slap. 

“Safe word is peach, alright? Can you say that back to me, so I know you're ready?” 

Your eyebrow furrows in confusion but you oblige, “Peach…” 

Nanami pushes his length back inside you as soon as you have finished speaking. Stretching you out again, inch by inch. As your warmth surrounds him, he lets out soft grunts and leans in till your foreheads meet, his cock completely buried in you. Hands on either side of your head as he slowly begins to sway his hips, his hair sliding down and tickling your cheeks faintly. 

Nanami quickly got into rhythm,  repeatedly slamming his hips until he quickly found the ideal angle. Nanami's cock pulses and throbs inside of you as you dig your claws into his shoulder, his length filling you up delectably each time. A hand briefly brushes across your cheek before letting go and slinking down. 

Down to your neck, his large hand stopping there for a moment. He wrapped his fingers around your neck, as if to measure it. The sensation causes your breath to hitch slightly, but Nanami's hand quickly leaves your neck and descends farther. Fingertips glide across your chest, brushing across your nipple and pinching it. The sudden sharp sensation made your back arch off the bed with a high pitch moan. Nanami’s cock gets even harder at this, twitching inside of you. Pinching and twisting your stiffened buds to get more cute reactions out of you. 

The majority of his body weight is now on top of you, so you feel every inch and strength as he continues to fuck you into the bed. Unable to move and powerless to Nanami's whims, your body completely submits to his force. 

“Ken-Kento, Kento, Kentoooo!” You could only babble out his names in the small times where you got your voice back, your vocabulary now just consists of his name and various moans and whimpers. 

His fingers finally begin to toy with your neglected clit, sliding across the sensitive bud. Pushing you closer to the edge, pure white hot bliss forms in your stomach, and your mind becomes blank. 

Your mouth hangs wide as you attempt to spit out a sentence or make noises that indicate you are getting close. But Nanami did not need any words to know; he could feel you tightening up, and he was also close to his limit.

“Come with me..please.. My princess.” His voice strained and heavy, as he quickened his finger on your clit and his hips gave out a few more thrust. You feel a flash of hotness pooling inside your stomach, as he releases all his load inside of you. Your body too worn out to do anything at this point but accept it all. 

Nanami takes a few breaths before finally pulling out, his cock leaking out a few more droplets. Nanami pulls your panties back to normal, wiping any leftover cum on his tip on the outside of your panties. Giving it a few taps to make sure that all his cum stays in there. 

You roll over to your side, eyes drooping down, body sore and ready to pass out. You let your eyes close as your ears perk up to listen to Nanami’s voice. 

“Get some rest, my love. My sweet princess..” He purrs out slowly, as you hear the creaking of the bed and walking. 

“I’ll come back with something to wipe you off, but I want you to keep those panties on, at least for the night. I’ll be sure to refill them tomorrow morning.” He chuckles to himself, you feel a hand caress your cheek and fluff up your hair. Nanami’s voice grows closer as you feel his lips on your forehead. 

“I love you, my princess. You are my whole world, something to be cherished and loved. Never deny my feelings for you, but if those thoughts ever darkened your mind again.” 

His voice goes down to a whisper as you drift off to sleep. 

“I will always be here to show just how much I love you, my dear.”

[coltgroup]

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[dominterlude]

how about then

pairing: arthur hill x fem!reader

summary: an insecure admirer with not-so-discreet habits and a pretty barista who he doesn’t realise notices most of his visits.

cw: stalker-ish tendencies, fear of rejection, self-conscious thoughts, second-hand embarrassment. no use of y/n, lowercase intended.

word count: 1.7k

he watches, unashamed, yet teetering on the edge of not wanting to be seen.

welcoming eyes as you greet each customer, a peek at the pink of your tongue as you cautiously try to pronounce names you’re unfamiliar with, soft smiles on the curve on your lips when you ask them to take a seat until their order is ready. almost everyday, it’s the same.

arthur sits alone, illuminated by the bright light of his open laptop screen, surrounded by remnants of food belonging to whoever sat down before him. today it’s a half-drank camomile tea, crumbs of a pastry flaked on the coffee table instead of the dark green plate it was served on, and the smallest jar of honey. he hasn’t ordered yet.

he rarely ever orders.

opting to exist amongst the casual murmur of blurred conversation flickering in the background of the obvious humming from the espresso machine and occasional clinks of silverware. the sound of ceramic smashing is out of place in the familiarity of the café.

he jumps slightly on the worn, cherry red sofa, his stare moves from the softness of your lips, to the sudden shock in your wide eyes, and then to the homemade mug lying on the tiled floor in a disarray of pieces. it’s silent for a moment, everyone glancing to the source of the noise, before immersing themselves back into whatever they were doing.

you look around, embarrassed that you’d been spotted knelt down in the midst of the shards, but grateful that no one’s wandering eyes have stuck on you. then they meet his and your face warms, turning the same colour as the sofa he hasn’t moved from.

he looks away like he hasn’t already been caught.

his gaze shifts to his screen for the first time since he’s sat down, feigning oblivion, but his own face is burning. reminded of the day his earphones disconnected and everyone heard. regardless, you don’t know what he’s thinking and the snippet of the song you picked up hasn’t left your memory.

you gather the pieces, careful not to pierce your skin with the jagged edges of the shattered ceramic. you’re used to the occasional accident, and maybe the feeling of his eyes on you, but not when you know he’s trying not to look.

you stand up, brushing off the dust of sugar from your apron and make your way to the counter, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. your mind races with the possibilities of what he might think. you’ve never exchanged more than a few words, but you’re left reeling from the clumsiness.

the café’s buzz is usually a form of comfort, but today it feels like it’s wrapping too tightly around you, suffocating any attempts at ease. you take a deep breath and force another smile, hoping to convince yourself more than anyone else that you’re fine.

you’re not all that surprised that lina, your co-worker and friend, can see right through it.

“another day, some more shy guy?” she says with a knowing smirk and a sideways glance, typing in the customer’s total on the coffee shop’s card machine.

you roll your eyes at her playfully, trying to shrug it off as you toss the broken mug into the bin. “ what are you talking about?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

lina’s smirk widens. “oh come off it, i’ve seen the way you blush every time he walks in. you think i’m blind?”

you laugh. a bit too loudly, and unfortunately unconvincingly, busying yourself with wiping down the counter. “i don’t know what you’re talking about, i’m just doing my job.”

she arches an eyebrow, but lets it go, turning back to the customer with a professional smile. as they leave, she leans closer to you. “i’m just saying, maybe you should talk to him, or at least serve him something other than the usual eye candy and awkward glances. he’s obviously into you, and you can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way. that blush gives you away every time.”

you feel the heat she’s referring to rise again, and you can’t argue with her. she’s known you since school, and she’s always had a knack for reading you like an open book. but talking to him? that’s easier said than done. you’ve built this invisible barricade around the both of you, a silent dance of glances and unspoken curiosity, one you’re afraid of bulldozing through with the wrong thing.

you start to shake your head again, parting your lips, but before you can get a word out lina’s already began. “if you don’t want to listen to what i’m trying to tell you, i can’t make you. but make me a promise, alright?”

her eyes are so intense, so serious, that you nod without really understanding what you’re agreeing to. “what?” you ask, curiosity piqued despite your skepticism.

lina’s grin is swift and mischievous. “promise me you’ll finally talk to him before he leaves today. ask him his name, or what he’s working on, or why he’s always here when you are. anything, just break the weird-awkward tension you guys have going on, okay?”

you sigh, feeling the weight of her stare. she’s relentless when she’s made up her mind about something. “fine, i’ll try,” you concede, hoping she’ll drop it.

lina’s eyes light up with excitement. “yes, you will!” she says, clapping her hands together. “and i’m going to hold you to that promise because i’ve got to head out, so it’s just you and him for closing tonight. no excuses!” she winks before undoing her apron and disappearing through the back door, leaving you alone with your nerves and your jaw slack.

she was right. it was just you and him for closing. the last of the customers leaving close to an hour ago once you’d flipped the sign hanging on the door.

just you and him. him hitting keys on his laptop and oblivious to set of eyes on him that would stray if he looked up. the light of his screen reflecting off his skin, highlighting the length of his fringe and strands of hair that poked at his eyebrows. you wondered what he saw when he looked at you, something pretty enough to make him stay?

his posture was rigid, slumped over the keyboard like he was about to fall asleep. lina’s words kept replaying in your head at the sight, stuck in your own mind like the residue of a spilled sugary drink on the countertop.

you took a deep breath, trying to swallow any reservation you held that what you were thinking about may go south and replace it with something positive — you might finally learn the hazel-eyed stranger’s name.

“hi, sorry, but we’re closing soon,” you started, an apologetic smile curving your lips. a slightly damp cloth in your hand and your other adjusting the notepad in your waist band, “is there anything else i can get you before..” you trailed off, entirely too distracted by how intensely he was staring at you. unexpected and unwavering.

he shook his head, waves of hair shaking like his nerves, clammy palms wiped on the thigh of his trousers. “uh- no. i think i’m set.”

if you thought you were disappointed with his answer, you deflated at how quickly he shut his laptop. you nodded, dejectedly, offering one last smile that didn’t reach your eyes and turned. silently criticising the tone of your voice, speed of your speech and about everything else you could nit pick.

your steps were light, but they felt as if you were being weighed down by every single thread of rejection that had stitched you into a version of yourself that shook at the first shake of someone’s head. you sighed, removing the last of the food from the glass display case and decided to try again.

“are you sure? if not, these will just go to waste and not to brag or anything, but these are our best.”

“how is that bragging?”

“i made them!” you informed defensively.

he laughed, eyes bright. “well, in that case-“

you cheer excitedly, clapping your hands underneath your chin. placing the dessert you’d perfected into a small to-go box, “so, what are you always working on?”

he looked taken aback at your question, stuttering out a ramble of words into a sentence that you didn’t think made any sense. you’d noticed his presence before today and now it was his turn to turn cherry red. “i make music.”

“oh?“ it’s all you pick up as you abandon the tongs on your worktop. “are you a dj?”

“god, no!” he laughs again, disbelief bleeding through his bashful attempt at telling you about his work. “i guess it’s more like pop, but not really.”

your eyes widen, “no way! is it serious? your livelihood depending on it type of stuff?”

“sort of.” he shrugs half-heartedly, diverting his attention to the curled corners of peeling stickers on his closed laptop, and you decide not to ask anymore questions. confusing his inability to answer honestly with discomfort. you’re mentally scolding yourself for being the cause while arthur’s wondering if being a content creator is as off-putting as it sounds in his head. “can i get a drink too?”

“i thought you didn’t want anything.” it’s light-hearted, teasing. something so fittingly sweet it’s almost sickly when he blushes again.

“might as well,” he reasons when he gives his order, not that you minded. it’s more money for the cafe — not that you’ll end up charging him — and selfishly, an excuse for him to stay maybe two or three minutes more.

you agree and as your about to reach for a disposable cup, you pause. “iced?”

he hasn’t made the connection that you have, absentmindedly bobbing his head in tune of the tick of the clock on the far wall. admiring you as you work.

you’re reluctant to maintain the speed you’re used to. dragging out the seconds left until his drink is finished and he can finally leave. hoping he doesn’t notice your hesitance at every step, dreading that you’re at the last one when you uncap the marker.

then he’s at the counter and out the door with the exchange of a smile, the graze and burn of your skin against his now ink stained fingertips. smudged numbers and a name branding the transparent plastic and his mind.

you suppose you did learn his name.

[bunnysnuff]

This type of library.

Pairing: Boq Woodsman x reader, Galinda Upland (briefly)

Trigger warnings: Galinda walks in.

Request.

Note: why is there no Boq gifs christ.

The library was quiet, almost too quiet. Only the sound of whispered pages turning could be heard as you and Boq sat together, working on your assignments. Or, well, pretending to work. In reality, neither of you were getting much done. Your eyes kept drifting toward each other, and every time they met, there was an unspoken tension building, thick as the air around you.

Boq shifted in his seat, his knee brushing against yours. The contact sent a spark of electricity up your leg, and you couldn’t help but look at him. He caught your gaze and didn’t look away. There was something about the way he was looking at you—soft, a little shy, but also full of unspoken desire—that made your pulse race.

“Boq…” you said, your voice coming out quieter than you meant, your heart hammering in your chest. “You know… I’ve noticed something.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “Oh? What’s that?”

You could feel the heat between you both, an undeniable connection, something more than just friendship, something that had been slowly building for weeks now. You let out a breath, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “I think you’ve been looking at me a little differently lately.”

Boq’s lips curled into a teasing smile, but there was something deeper behind it, something that made you feel like you were the only two people in the room. “Maybe,” he said, his voice low. “But I don’t think you’ve been looking at me the same way either.”

That was all it took.

The moment you leaned in, you could see his eyes flicker with the same heat, and before either of you could second-guess it, your lips met. The kiss started slow, tentative, as if you both were testing the waters. But it didn’t stay slow for long. The moment you felt his hand slide into your hair, deepening the kiss, all of the tension between you two snapped, and it felt like the whole world had disappeared.

Boq’s lips moved against yours with increasing urgency, his body pressing closer to yours as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him toward you. His hands were warm, and as he pulled you closer, you could feel the heat of him seeping into you, making your skin tingle.

But just as the kiss grew more intense, the sound of a door creaking open shattered the moment.

“Oh my gosh,” a voice squealed from the doorway.

Both of you broke apart so fast it was like someone had thrown cold water on you. You scrambled to sit up straight, your face flushed and heart pounding in embarrassment. Standing in the doorway, looking absolutely stunned, was Glinda. Her hand was still over her mouth, her wide blue eyes the size of dinner plates.

“I—” Glinda began, glancing between you and Boq. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Your heart was still racing, and you could feel the heat rising in your face. “Galinda, what the heck?” you stammered, trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

“I’m so sorry! I was just—” She held up her hands, her mouth still agape, “I didn’t know the library was… this kind of library!”

Boq was trying his best to stifle a laugh, but it was clear that he was just as embarrassed as you. “We were just… studying,” he said, his voice thick with humor, though his face was still red.

Glinda’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she took a step into the room. “Studying, huh?” she said, dragging out the word in a teasing tone. “Because it looked like something much more interesting was going on.”

You buried your face in your hands, half out of embarrassment, half out of sheer frustration. “Galinda, you can’t just walk in here like that.”

“I can, and I just did,” she said with a dramatic sigh, as if she were the most unfortunate soul in the world for having witnessed such a thing. “You two are lucky I’m not more of a gossip, or else this would be all over the school by tomorrow.”

You and Boq exchanged a glance, both of you caught between wanting to die of embarrassment and wanting to laugh at Glinda’s over-the-top dramatics. Finally, Boq spoke, his voice light and teasing. “If you’re going to spread it around, at least tell everyone it was a really good kiss.”

Glinda’s eyes widened even further. “Oh, I’m sure it was,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she turned to leave. “Just… don’t do it in the library next time, okay? I have standards, you know.”

With that, she flounced out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind her. You and Boq stared at each other in silence for a moment before both of you burst into laughter.

“That was… something,” you said, still trying to catch your breath from the shock.

Boq smiled, a soft, genuine smile, and it made your heart flutter all over again. “Yeah, it was.”

You stood there for a few seconds, still laughing and trying to compose yourselves, but all the while, you couldn’t deny the chemistry that was still there, lingering between you both.

“Well,” you said with a grin, “if she’s going to gossip, at least she’ll have something interesting to talk about.”

Boq chuckled, stepping a little closer. “You’re right. Maybe we’ll just have to find a better place next time.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile up at him. “Maybe we will.”

[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn Ends the Night | Chapter 6

Aemond Targaryen x FemReader (Dayne)

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 7.4K (longest chapter? My form of apology for the delay in getting this chapter out)

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: You have been in the Red Keep for less than a moon's turn, and you are getting to know some members of your future family. Some are more agreeable than others.

Notes: If anyone is still out there and reading this, I want to deeply apologised for the delay in finishing this chapter. I honestly did not think that it would take around 6 months to finish this, but many things robbed me of my ability to write or to have any type of creative purpose. Chief amongst is that a fell down my stairs ending up in a severe concussion and just the thought of well, thinking and looking at my computer was horrendous.

After many check-ups at the hospital and having let some months pass, I feel like I am mostly headaches free + drowsiness free and I feel ready and super pumped about coming back on this platform and continuing this story.

I hope you all like this chapter, and thank you to all of you who are still here and to all of you who wrote me sweet messages, I opened the app for the first time in a while some weeks ago and they were a true warm hug for my heart 💚💜💚

Unto the story now, with loads of love xxx

Taglist: @duds31 , @snh96, @lol-im-done, @heavenly1927, @whimsywilde , @queen-123s-posts , @httyd-marauders , @singhfae , @nothing-just-hanging-around

Family

Before your arrival in King’s Landing, breaking your fast had meant time spent amongst family, a time when you would gather in the quiet of the morning, exchanging words with your parents and brothers before the day’s duties scattered all of you like leaves in the wind. But now, amidst the towering spires and shadowed corridors of the Red Keep, since meeting Aemond, you have come to realize that the morning meal is all too brief. The moments slip through your fingers like sand, and you find yourself yearning for more—more time, more closeness, more of Aemond. More. You had become greedy since coming to the capital.  

You came to notice as each morning gave way to the next that as the crack of dawn slowly started to give way to the warmth of the morning sun, you would find yourself idly pushing strawberries or blackberries around your plate, and more slowly savouring sweet, honeyed cakes, all in a bid to delay the inevitable parting. You’ve also noticed Aemond doing much the same, pouring his steaming tea with deliberate slowness, chewing each slice of cured meat with thoughtful care. It brought a smile to your face each time, to think that he too wanted to delay the inevitable.  

But all good things must come to an end, and as you swallowed the last piece of fruit, inevitability settled over the both of you. The fleeting sweet tartness was gone, and you knew it was time, regrettably, to rise and face the demands of the day. You would bid the prince farewell, guiding him to your door, Perros’ gaze silently observing the scene. Today, instead of his usual parting words of soft promises, Aemond gently took hold of your hand, his touch tender as he examined the delicate shape of your fingers. Without warning, he pressed his lips softly against your knuckles, his whispered goodbyes a warm breath against your skin. Then, with a swift turn, he departed, leaving you with a lingering sense of yearning and the ghost of his touch upon your hand. 

 Even now, hours upon his departure from your solar and despite the cool morning breeze, you still felt overheated and no amount of pinching yourself was helping. The heat that had risen to your cheeks from his remarks lingered, persisting well into the morning. Every now and then, as you went about your morning duties, you would catch yourself thinking back to your conversation with him, the memory of his voice still echoing in your ears and the ghost of his hands still warm against your waist. And when you closed your eyes, you swore you could still feel the hard planes of Aemond’s chest against your soft breast. The unladylike part of you wished that Perros had not been with you in the room, and you wonder if Aemond was as dutiful as others made him to be – perhaps he could be pushed in the direction of your desires, with the right pair of soft hands of course, you giggle to yourself. 

For now, you enjoy the breezy air of the capital, lying on your back as you bask in the greenery of the royal garden alongside your little group. Gerris and Little Davos, who had not left your brother’s side since you brought him with you from Flea Bottom, played nearby with him and Heleana’s young twins. Your little retinue was scattered, with the younger ones running around with boundless energy while Heleana and you lounged lazily, letting the balmy afternoon sun warm your skin. You sighed contentedly, your fingers softly dancing through the lush, soft grass beneath you, the cool earth was a welcome contrast to the sun's warmth on your skin. 

You watch Gerris being tackled by Davos, their playful tussle drawing the attention of the fair-haired twins, who look on curiously, holding tightly onto each other. Perros let out an exasperated sigh, one that you can clearly hear from where you're lying on the ground. From the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of movement as the old knight begins to walk towards the boys, intent on breaking up their fight. His footsteps crunch on the soft grass as he approaches 

“Let them be, Perros.” You interrupt him, “It is good for Gerris to have a friend who does not care about his name. He needs someone who can truly play with him and who will care for him, the true bond of brotherhood, is it not?”  

Perros inclined his head, although he did look like he swallowed a particularly sour lemon, “Wise words, my Lady.”  

You watched as Gerris grabbed a handful of the rose bush, the flowers perfectly trimmed, and broke the thorny stem from the beautifully plump flower, discarding the petals and holding the long-crooked stem before him like a sword. He aimed his makeshift weapon at Davos, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he loudly proclaimed that he would defeat the evil sorcerer and protect the prince and princess, making the fair-haired twins giggle. 

You raised an eyebrow, “I do however draw a line at destroying royal shrubbery and I fear the gardener will take offence to us.” 

Perros charged towards the boys, who screamed at the sight of the towering knight and darted around, trying to dodge his grasp. Watching the chaos unfold, you couldn't help but smile faintly, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. Gerris let out a shriek that could very well shatter glass as Perros scooped him up by the armpits. The look of sheer betrayal that Gerris shot at Perros made both you and Heleana burst into loud guffas, startling the nearby servants. 

But then, heroic little Davos sprang into action to save his newfound friend. He charged at Perros, crashing into the knight's legs with all his might. The sudden impact made the older man stumble and loose his grip, giving Gerris the chance to wriggle free from his arms and dart to safety. 

It warmed your heart to see your brother so happy and to see Davos, who still looked gaunt in comparison to the rest of your group, gain color and a new twinkle in his eyes. You hoped, from the bottom of your heart, that both boys would build a strong bond of brotherhood and that both would grow to protect each other. This world is too cruel to go about it alone, you mused, thinking of Aemond and his missing eye.  

Circumstances had forced you to face the world alone until the birth of your baby brother. Yet, even after his arrival, his tender age prevented him from being a true companion, and your change in station only served to widen the gap between you, extending far beyond the simple span of years. The memory of Gerris's birth is still vivid in your mind—your mother laboring for hours before finally delivering a rightful heir. While the family rejoiced, you were enveloped in a profound sadness, grappling with feelings of inadequacy that wrapped around your heart like thorny vines, their grip unyielding and relentless. 

For months after Gerris was born, your mother, radiant with the joy of a smooth pregnancy and glowing with happiness at having fulfilled her long-anticipated duty, tried to coax you into bonding with your new brother, her eyes bright with hope. Yet each time, you deftly evaded her attempts, crafting excuse after excuse—he was too small, you were too clumsy, you could not stand his smell. Within you, a hidden bitterness took root, a silent resentment toward the tiny being whose very existence had overshadowed your own, solely because he had been born with a cock between his legs. You were left with nothing but a hollow cavern inside your chest. How unfair it was, you remember thinking, to have been born into one of the few Dornish great houses that still valued male heirs above all else. 

All that remained for you were your cherished books and studies. You clung to the hope that if they could not solve your predicament, they might at least offer some solace. One late evening, on a moonless night, as you delved into a dusty tome, a tale from the far North seized your attention. It told of a young boy who, consumed by jealousy of his elder brother's fortune, suffocated him to seize his crown and title. Horrified by this grotesque betrayal, a direct affront to the sacred teachings of the gods, you slammed the book shut, vowing never to revisit its vile contents. Yet, despite your resolve, the haunting words lingered in your thoughts, whispering of dark shadows and unfathomable acts deep within your soul. 

Some weeks after your brother’s birth, you were walking down the hall after your morning lesson with the maester. As you rounded a corner, the voices of two guards reached your ears. Their words still echoed painfully in your mind: 

“Have you laid eyes on the young master yet?” one guard asked, a note of excitement in his voice. 

The other guard grunted dismissively. “Not yet. I’m still on duty for the young lady. Strange one, she is. It's a blessing from the gods our lady finally bore a proper heir.” 

Chills ran down your spine, and your breath caught in your throat. Was that how everyone saw you? A strange girl unworthy of your family’s ancestral seat? As tears gathered in your eyes, you felt a sticky wetness on your fingers and realized you had crushed the inkpot in your grasp. You wanted to scream, to tear down the walls, to destroy something... or someone. How dare they dismiss you so easily? How dare they deem you unworthy? The urge to lash out, to make them feel your wrath, was almost unbearable. As you silently left the hall, the ink leaving a trail behind you, your mind wandered back to that Northern tale, and  

That very night, the castle lay shrouded in silence, broken only by the occasional groan of ancient wood, as if Starfall was holding its breath. Sneaking out of your room had become a nightly ritual, but tonight, filled with anger and bitterness, your steps carried you to the nursery door. An inexplicable force compelled you to push it open. Hands trembling uncontrollably, you eased the door ajar and peered inside. 

Inside, the gentle rhythm of the nurse's breathing was the only sound, the room bathed in the soft silver light filtering through gauzy curtains. You tiptoed closer to Gerris, the moon casting a serene glow over his cherubic face. Under the night’s tender touch, he appeared so different—not the usurper you had imagined, but simply a baby, innocent and unknowing. His tiny chest rose and fell with each breath, a fragile testament to life’s delicate beauty. 

Your heart tightened as the dark, unwelcome thought crept into your mind once more. "I could just... but no, that's monstrous," you silently reprimanded yourself, the words a desperate plea for sanity. The sheer horror of the act you had momentarily considered struck you like a blade, cutting deep into your conscience. The gods-forsaken book had planted seeds of madness within you, but as you stood there, looking at your brother’s peaceful slumber, you realized the true depth of your error. 

To harm this innocent, to extinguish a life that had only just begun—it would be a sin beyond redemption, a betrayal of everything you held sacred. The realization washed over you, leaving you trembling. Gerris was no enemy; he was family, bound by blood and destiny. The thought of causing him harm was an abomination, a dark whisper from the abyss that you vowed never to heed. 

As tears stung your eyes, a soft coo interrupted your turmoil. Gerris, now awake, was looking directly at you, his eyes wide and curious. There was no accusation there, no awareness of the storm of emotions he had unwittingly caused. Just a baby, reaching out. His smile, wide and guileless, seemed to pierce through the shadows that had gathered around your heart. And when he wrapped his tiny fingers around yours, something shifted within you. 

 "I'm sorry," you whispered, not sure to whom you were apologizing—Gerris, for the dark thoughts, or yourself, for having them. He gurgled happily in response, as if to say he understood and forgave you. 

It was then, in the quiet of the night with only the moon as your witness, that you made a silent vow. "If I cannot be the Lady of Starfall, then I'll ensure you become the greatest lord this castle has ever known. I'll protect you, teach you, be your guide." The words felt like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your soul. 

Gerris's grip on your finger was his silent pact, a bond sealed under the watchful eyes of the stars. From that moment, your path was clear. You would stand by him, defend him, and love him unconditionally. 

You were brought back to the present by youthful giggles infusing the air with joy. Gerris and Davos darted around the garden, leading young Jaehaera and Jaehaerys on a merry chase, their innocent games painting smiles on the faces of the two kingsguards who were tasked with watching your small group. 

Beside you, Heleana sat with the grace of a princess, in her delicate hands, she cradled a praying mantis she had found earlier in her explorations. With curious eyes, she was inspecting its slender legs and vibrant green body. The tiny creature, for its part, seemed unperturbed by the princess's scrutiny, perhaps recognizing the gentleness in her touch and that she would not hurt him. 

Aemond's book lay abandoned by your other side, its pages awaiting your return. You had started the day with the intention of devouring its contents, to lose yourself in the tales of dragons and the heroes who rode them. Yet, the sun's gentle lullaby had other plans, drawing you into a state of blissful lethargy. Like a cup overbrimming with sweet honey, you felt yourself grow slow before succumbing to the warmth of the sun, your eyelids growing heavy with the promise of sleep. 

Sprawled upon the ground, you felt like the old cat who had been stalking the walls of Starfall when you were a girl, always indulging in too much cream, basking in the afterglow of satisfaction. "I could get used to this," you mused silently 

Heleana was thinking aloud, curiousness painting her sweet smile, "This mantis is significantly larger than the ones I usually encounter. They're typically small enough to fit comfortably in my palm, but the legs of this one are sprawling out." 

You cracked open an eye, shifting your gaze towards the green critter still nestled in her grasp. Indeed, it was an impressive size, you thought.  

"Do you think the weather could be influencing its size?" you ventured closing your eyes again. 

Heleana blinked, seemingly taken aback by your sudden interjection, as if she had momentarily forgotten your presence or hadn't anticipated a response. 

"In what manner?" she queried curiously; you could feel her eyes settling on you, making you squirm like you were one of those bugs under her inspection. 

"Well, back in Starfall, there was one year that was particularly mild. The days weren't scorchingly hot, and the nights were warm with a gentle breeze. It was one of the most pleasant periods I can recall," you began, just the memory of those sweet breezy nights, holding Gerris by the hand as you made him look at the stars was enough to make your heart grow within your chest. "During that time, the old cat that roamed the grounds would bring in notably plumper mice. I remember asking our maester about it, and he suggested that the favorable weather allowed the mice to forage more freely and evade predators with greater ease." 

Heleana hummed at your explanation but did not contribute.  "Or perhaps," you added, a playful grin curving your lips, "this mantis simply enjoyed too many honeyed cakes at breakfast." 

With no response from the princess, you wondered if Heleana had even heard your musings or if you had been talking to yourself. However, before you could dwell on the silence any further, a gentle pressure on your right hand, resting on your belly, pulled you back to the present. Alongside, a slight weight settled next to you. Curious, you opened your eyes to find Heleana had cozied up beside you, her presence a comforting weight next to you.  

You softly squinted at her, "What happened to your mantis, Heleana?" You said while gently squeezing her hand in yours. 

"I've decided to test your theory," Heleana announced with a determined grin that brought a smile to your face. "I want to see if Tarrax will grow even larger if she spends more time in the garden." 

"Tarrax?" you echoed with a chuckle, amused by the very mighty sounding name she had chosen for such a critter. 

Nodding, Heleana explained, "Yes, I named her after a Valyrian god. She's mighty, larger than any other mantis in all of King's Landing." 

"A fitting name, indeed," you replied, smiling down at Heleana as she shyly returned your gaze. "You know, Aemond is quite knowledgeable about our history, perhaps more than anyone else in the family, save for our father and uncle. You should ask him to share more with you." 

"Later," you said, waving off the idea with a hand, content to enjoy the present moment. "Right now, I'm spending time with my new sister." 

"Sister?" Heleana's eyes lit up at the word. 

"Of course," you affirmed warmly. "As Aemond's future wife, that makes you, my sister." You then added, with a conspiratorial smile, "And I must say, your company is far more pleasant." 

Heleana's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. "I've always wanted a sister," she admitted softly. 

You hesitated before broaching a delicate subject. "What about Princess Rhaenyra?" you asked gently. 

Heleana grew quiet, her voice a soft murmur. "I guess she is my sister by blood, but she never really showed she cared about me, or anyone else in my family. I remember, as a child, she would sometimes brush my hair, but then, suddenly, I was no longer welcome in her chamber. Mother mentioned something had happened, but nobody ever explained it to me."  

She sighed, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "They all think I'm too naive to understand. You know, they say when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin..." Her voice trailed off, laden with unspoken sadness. "Everyone seems to have made up their minds about how my coin landed." 

Your eyebrows drew together, a frown forming as her words sank in. Gently, you rolled onto your side, maintaining your hold on Heleana's hand. The sudden closeness seemed to startle her; your noses were almost touching, allowing you to catch the faint, sweet scent of apples that seemed to emanate from her skin. Offering her a soft smile, you brushed a stray silver hair behind her ear. Heleana possessed a beauty distinct from her brother's. While Aemond resembled a statue crafted by divine hands – all sharp lines and smooth angles, with an angular jaw and eyes sharp as a predator's – Heleana radiated a softer, more sweet charm. Her face was round and gentle, her lips glossy and inviting, her eyes wide and innocent.  

"You shouldn't heed others' words, sweet Heleana," you whispered, making sure your voice carried a soothing warmth. It was the same tone you used back home to soothe the skittish kittens that hid in the corners of the castle.  "Though our acquaintance has been brief, it's clear to me that you possess exceptional brilliance and kindness, virtues all too rare in this world in my opinion." 

 Heleana's expression turned forlorn. "I'm not as smart as Aemond," she lamented. "My High Valyrian is mediocre at best, and I don't share his affinity for books." 

"We each have our unique strengths," you reassured her, glancing towards a rose bush where a delicate butterfly had alighted. "Tell me, which would you say is superior: Tarrax or this beautiful butterfly?" You nodded toward a beautiful green and pink butterfly softly chittering near the roses. Heleana looked before turning back to you, her faces inches away from yours.  

Her brows knitted in confusion at the comparison. "It's difficult to say... They're both quite remarkable in their own ways." 

"Exactly," you affirmed, a smile spreading across your face as you squeezed her hand gently. "We all differ, yet each of us holds intrinsic value. And you, Heleana, are a splendid butterfly."  

Heleana's smile lingered, but soon her eyes glazed over, taking on a distant, unfocused look as if she were peering into a world unseen. Your concern deepened at this sudden shift. "Heleana, are you alright?" You tried to look around for help, but you could not move, entranced by her glazed look.  

Yet, she offered no reply. Abruptly, she rose, her grip on your hands tightening. Her voice, when she spoke, carried an eerie cadence, "The dragons dance above the lake. The lake welcomes them both to rest. The faces watch on in wait, happy their land is thus at rest." 

Her words, cryptic and haunting, hung in the air between you like an unspoken curse. The sudden intensity of her gaze, now clear and piercing, seemed to penetrate your very soul, stripping away the pretense and exposing your deepest fears. It was as though she could see through you, beyond the garden's tranquil facade, to a vision that only she could discern. The leaves rustled softly in the breeze, yet their gentle sound felt distant, overshadowed by the chilling weight of her words. 

"Heleana, what happ..." Your question hung unfinished in the air, cut short by a stern voice that seemed out of place amidst the garden's tranquility. "My princess, my lady," called Ser Criston Cole, the annoyed title of his voice suggesting he'd rather be anywhere but here. Perros, looming just behind him, had his arms crossed, his brows furrowed in a manner that clearly communicated his readiness to intervene should the queen’s favored Kingsguard step out of line. 

"Ser Criston," you greeted with a polite smile, attempting to dispel the unsettling echo of Heleana's words from your thoughts. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?" 

You could swear you saw a sneer on the knight’s face "The queen requests your presence, my lady, Her Majesty wishes to discuss the wedding arrangements with you." You couldn't help but swallow nervously at the mention of the queen. 

"May I accompany you?" Heleana inquired, shifting her penetrating gaze from you to Ser Criston. His annoyed stance softening upon Heleana’s words, ser Criston offered her a gentle, albeit somewhat strained, smile. "I'm afraid the queen wishes for some privacy with her future daughter-in-law, my princess." 

Heleana nodded in understanding, then looked back at you 

 "I'll remain here with the children until you return." 

You couldn't suppress the smile that her words brought to your lips. "Thank you, Heleana, and Perros," you added, turning to address your guard who looked like he wanted to pummel Cole into the ground, "please stay here and look after them with Heleana. I'd feel much more at ease knowing you're here to ensure their safety." 

Perros looked like he wanted to argue, but seeing your hard gaze, he simply nodded his head before shooting Cole a cold look.

Rising to your feet, you brushed down your skirts, the soft, gauzy purple fabric slipping through your fingers. Almost immediately, Gerris bounded over to you, "Where are you going?" he demanded, a hint of a whine coloring his words. "You've barely played with us!" 

You chuckled, reaching out to tweak his nose affectionately. "You've been darting about all afternoon, young man. You can't expect me to keep up with that pace! Stay here with Princess Heleana." His face fell slightly at your words. 

"Do you really have to leave now?" he pressed disappointingly.  

"Here's a deal for you," you offered, a conspiratorial glint in your eye. "Promise me you'll help Davos look after the twins, be good for Heleana, and I'll read you both an extra story tonight." 

Gerris's mood brightened instantly at the prospect, though he couldn't resist swatting away your hand from his nose with a playful huff. Then, with a bounce in his step, he returned to the small assembly of children. 

"You'll need to guide me, Ser Criston. I must admit, the vastness of this castle still confounds me," you said, offering a light-hearted smile that went unreturned. With a small bow to Heleana, Ser Criston turned sharply on his heel and began to lead the way toward the castle's heart. 

You hastened your steps to keep up with the Kingsguard, mindful not to let the hem of your dress catch beneath your feet. Matching the pace set by the imposing figure clad in white armor proved challenging; his stride was long and unforgiving, his focus squarely ahead, seemingly indifferent to whether you managed to keep up. 

Seeking to puncture the dense silence that enveloped you both, you ventured, "I've heard you hail from Dorne, Ser..." 

His response was brisk, clipped. "No. Only my mother was Dornish." 

"I see," you murmured, the silence resettling heavily between you. After a moment, you tried again, "Have you ever visited Dorne yourself?" 

"Yes, during the War of the Dornish Marshes." 

The words landed heavily, making you inwardly cringe. It seemed everyone in King's Landing bore some grievance against your homeland or its people. Lost in these thoughts, a question slipped from you, unbidden, "You bear no fondness for me, do you, Ser? May I ask why?" 

His stride faltered, a clear sign your words had hit a mark. Turning sharply, Ser Criston's gaze bore into you, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized you. "You'd like everyone to believe you're the epitome of innocence, wouldn't you? The sweet, unsuspecting girl caught in the machinations of her family and her kingdom. But we both know that's far from the truth." 

You felt your jaw tighten, anger simmering beneath your calm exterior. "There is no scheme," you retorted, your voice edged with frustration. 

Ser Criston's scoff was a harsh, grating sound, echoing mockingly around you, taunting you with its disdain. In two swift strides, the knight advanced, his towering presence suddenly overwhelming, making you acutely aware of your smaller stature. As you peered up at the Kingsguard, you swallowed nervously. Should Ser Criston wish to bash your head against the nearby wall, he very well could. And no one would come to your rescue. You were completely alone in this dark hall, and even if you were not, who in their right mind would dare oppose a knight of the Kingsguard? The protector of the queen, no less. The cold stone walls seemed to close in around you, the flickering torchlight casting ominous shadows that mirrored the fear gnawing at your insides 

Leaning closer, his voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "I've encountered a girl like you before – she believed her status absolved her of decency, she would be content to watch the world burn for her own gain. I won't allow you to follow in her footsteps and hurt this family.” 

You managed a tight swallow, nerves tingling at Ser Criston’s words. "Whoever she was, I am not her," you asserted, trying to sound more confident than you felt.  

Ser Criston paused, his eyes drilling into yours as he weighed your words. "We shall see," he finally said. With that, he turned on his heel, the air hitting your face, before he started resuming his march toward the queen's chambers, leaving you to scramble in his wake.  

As you trailed behind Ser Criston, your pace quickened to match his stride, and your gaze found itself locked on the stark whiteness of his helm. A thought fluttered through your mind, delicate yet persistent, "What womanly shadow has fallen across this knight's path to make him distrust women so?"  

Men always had a way of making their problems every woman’s burden, and in a place like King's Landing, a city where trust is as scarce as shade in the Dornish desert, such mistrust could become lethal. You were no naive ingenue, however; Dorne, for all its beauty and warmth, was no stranger to the same games of power and deception that seemed to animate the heart of the Seven Kingdoms. The corridors of Sunspear had echoed with whispers and schemes, and you had learned early that the veneer of civility often masked a ruthless struggle for dominance. Here in King’s Landing, the stakes were higher, the players more cunning, but the game remained the same. 

Nevertheless, this information about the knight lodged itself in a part of your brain. Information was power and understanding the pains and loyalties of those around you could be as valuable as any sword or magical dragon. To know the mind is to know how people can be used, and Ser Criston might one day become a very valuable piece on your cyvasse board if it ever comes to it.  

As you arrived before the imposing door, the glowing tower etched into the dark, polished wood stood as a solemn sentinel, marking the entrance to the queen’s apartments. Ser Criston knocked twice, each rap sharp and curt, echoing through the stone corridor like a distant war drum. A moment later, the soft, velvety voice of the queen bid you both to enter. Her words, though gentle, carried the weight of authority, wrapping around you like a silken noose, drawing you inexorably into the bedchambers. 

Queen Alicent sat upon a plush green chair, her velvet gown clinging to her figure with elegant modesty. The seven-pointed star necklace embraced her throat, a symbol of her devout faith. She looked rather put out, her fingers absently scratching at one another—a nervous tic, no doubt. 

The three of you regarded one another in heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken words. It was Queen Alicent who finally broke the stillness. 

“We won’t be needing you, Ser Criston,” she said, her voice floating through the room, rich and velvety. Ser Criston bowed, his deference directed more toward the queen than to you, and then retreated, leaving you standing awkwardly before your future mother-in-law. The very thought sent a shiver down your spine, an unsettling notion you constantly tried to push aside. 

“Your Grace,” you began, dipping into a low curtsy, your back as straight as a sword. “You wished to see me?” 

Alicent’s smile was a marvel of diplomacy—warm yet calculated, inviting yet commanding distance, like a sword draped in a beautiful green silk. You could not help but admire such a smile that must have taken years to develop “Indeed, lady Dayne. Sit, please." She gestured to a round table nestled next to the balcony. As you take a seat, Alicent snaps her fingers and servants starts to pour ruby liquid into your glass  

“I hope you like Arbor Red; there is no finer wine in all of King’s Landing, we import it directly from the Reach” Queen Alicent remarked, her voice carrying a subtle note of pride as she gestured toward the goblet on the table before you. 

You smiled hesitantly, the corners of your mouth twitching with uncertainty. “Arbor Red is hard to come by in Dorne. I shall savor this, thank you.” 

The wine’s deep crimson hue caught the light, promising warmth and richness. As you lifted the goblet to your lips, the queen's eyes never left you, her expression unreadable, a mask of courtly grace that concealed the thoughts swirling beneath. 

“I pray you are settling well into your new home, Lady Dayne?” the queen inquired, her tone polite but her gaze sharp and assessing. 

“Everyone has been very welcoming, Your Grace,” you answered diplomatically. “It might not feel like home yet, but I believe it could one day become so.” If these walls could never replace the sand of your homes, at the very least could become the only home you needed.  

“Hmmm,” said the queen thoughtfully. “I was quite young when I left Oldtown with my father to come to court. Although, at the time, I could never have imagined I was to be married to the king.” Her words held no trace of love, only a bitterness that cut through the air like a knife. “It was a great yet unexpected honor, of course.” 

 Your heart tightened at her words. You would have thrown yourself off the high walls had you been in Alicent Hightower’s place. At the very least, Aemond was your age, not a decrepit, sick old man. 

“Of course,” you said, gulping a bit more of your wine. You should slow down. You would need all your wits about you to survive this conversation with the queen. 

“You must be wondering why I asked you here today.” 

“It has crossed my mind,” you admitted. 

“I want to talk to you about your future with my son.” 

The words ‘your future with my son’ echoed in your mind, the taste of Aemond’s mouth on yours etched upon your very soul. “I’ve heard of your morning meetings,” Alicent mentioned casually, though a note of reproach lingered in her tone. 

Your heart raced as you forced a calm smile. “Aemond and I have grown quite fond of each other, Your Grace. Our meetings are a way to strengthen our bond as future man and wife.” 

“Indeed,” the queen replied, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Fondness is all well and good, but the court watches everything. Your actions reflect not just on yourself, but on our house.” 

The noose was slowly tightening around your throat, “I can promise you that Aemond never did anything untoward that could bring shame to himself or to your family.” 

“I should hope so, Aemond is not one to share his thoughts freely however. The queen lamented. It seems that you have made quite the impression.” 

You couldn’t help the soft smile that danced on your lips. “He is a man of deep thought and great feeling, Your Grace. Our conversations have become a cherished part of my day.” 

Queen Alicent's eyes, once stern, now softened just a touch. “It is good to hear that Aemond has found someone who appreciates him for who he is. But remember, fondness must walk hand in hand with duty. Our lives are not our own; they belong to the realm.” 

“I understand, Your Grace,” you said, inclining your head respectfully. “I will uphold the honor and dignity of our house.” 

“See that you do,” the queen replied, her voice carrying the weight of both warning and hope. “In King’s Landing, alliances are as fragile as spun glass, and one misstep can shatter everything.” 

You sighed softly, relieved that the queen’s words had been relatively mild. If that was all she wanted to convey, it was quite manageable. Nothing too bad. 

“However,” the queen continued, her voice taking on a harder edge. You lifted your eyes to meet her piercing gaze. 

“See that you remember this: Aemond’s loyalty will always be, first and foremost, to me and to his family. No matter how many threads you spin, how many lingering glances you throw his way, Aemond is my son before he becomes your anything. Do not think you will sway him to the winds of your mind. Aemond will do what we tell him to, always. Remember these words should you ever need to remind yourself of your place in this castle.” 

Now this you could not let pass. “With all due respect, Your Grace, I would hope that Aemond, as my husband, and I share the same wishes and aspirations. Is this alliance not to unite Dorne and the royal family as one?” 

The queen looked crossly into her glass, and you noticed it was quite empty. Interesting. You would have thought that a woman as pious as the queen would not indulge in drink, especially given how she reprimanded Prince Aegon at every opportunity. 

“Then make sure that your mind is always aligned with his interests and the best interests of this family. You will not like the alternative, I am afraid.” 

“Is that a threat, Your Majesty?” 

“Not a threat. I am simply explaining a fact. You were not there when the other boys teased him in his youth. I was the one whose shoulder he cried upon. I was the only one who cared for him when he was robbed of his eye. Me, not my father, not Viserys. Me. Do not think that your presence nullifies all that I have done for him.” 

You clenched your golden goblet, the ruby red wine as vivid as the fury in your eyes. Just as you were about to retort with your own biting words—though not the wisest course of action—a sharp series of knocks erupted at the large door. 

The queen raised her hand, and one of the guards waiting at the entrance opened the door, revealing none other than the man in question. Aemond entered, his expression stoic, though the wild look in his eyes told a different story. He seemed to sense the tension in the room immediately, his gaze flicking between you and his mother. 

“Mother. My lady,” he greeted, his voice a careful mask of calm. 

“Aemond,” Queen Alicent replied suprised at seeing her son at her door, but her tone softening slightly. “I was discussing the upcoming wedding with your future wife. We were thinking of green with little accents of lavender for the colors.” 

“Hmmmm,” was Aemond’s answer. “Purple is also an honored Targaryen color. Ensure it is visible to honor both my bride and my blood.” 

“We must show unity in this wedding, Aemond. You cannot think to—” 

“I would like to borrow Lady Dayne, Mother, if that is all,” Aemond interrupted smoothly. “I should like to think that color schemes are not the most crucial element in demonstrating the unity of our family, hmmmmm. My lady?” He extended his arm to you. 

You scrambled to reach it, curtseying and softly uttering a thanks to your future mother-in-law before hurrying to Aemond’s side. Together, you left the queen’s solar, Aemond leading you with a grace that accompany his stoic and princely air. 

As you both walked through the halls, you glanced at the strong profile of your betrothed. By the gods, he was handsome, as if carved from marble itself. 

“I hope my mother was not too harsh in her words to you. For if she was, I will have words with her,” Aemond spoke without looking at you, his shoulders tense, his back rod-straight. He flexed his sword hand, as if yearning to grasp the familiar dragon pommel for comfort. 

Without a word, you gently placed your palm in his clenching hand. At the sudden contact, the prince stopped in his tracks and finally turned to look at you, his whole being softening. 

You raised his hand to your mouth, placing a soft kiss on his palm. The warmth of his skin against your lips sent a shiver down your spine. Aemond moved his hand to cup your cheek, the touch gentle yet firm, and you smiled contentedly, nuzzling into his palm as if it were the safest place in the world. 

"It does not matter what your mother said. All that matters is that you know I will always be on your side, regardless of what happens. The rest is superficial. As long as you believe in me and I believe in you, all will be well." 

Aemond's thumb softly stroked the apple of your cheek, sending waves of warmth through you. His touch was both tender and reassuring, a silent promise of his support. "I feel like we do not know each other enough to speak of each other so," he murmured, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. 

“Not close enough? Do you caress the face of every lady in this castle? If so, I will be rather cross,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. 

“Do not say such things, you know there is but you,” he replied, his tone earnest. “Although your manners have a way of confounding me, I feel like I was waiting for you. I think you were owed to me,” Aemond softly admitted, doing his upmost to not avert your gaze.  

You tensed at his words. “Owed?” 

“For my eye,” Aemond said simply. “After all that the gods took, I was owed something wonderful, my lady.” 

“I am not sure it works like that,” you replied, your fingers grasping the shirt of his dark green, almost black, leather riding coat. The rich fabric was cool under your touch, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment. 

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, carrying the faint scent of the Arbor Red wine. “Perhaps not. But it feels right, as if fate or the gods have finally given me something to cherish.” 

“Is this fate you speak of the same that led you to rescue me from your mother’s inquisition?” you asked, trying to divert the subject. The softeness and eagerness of his words were bringing out some feelings in too quick a fashion. 

 Aemond looked momentarily sheepish. “I suppose it was not fate, for I went looking for you in the garden. Helaena told me where to find you, and I grew worried. I will not let anything happen to you, my lady, whether it be from my family or anyone else.” 

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your heart ache. You studied his face, his sharp features softened by the candlelight of the narrow corridor, you tugged him to a nearby alcove, hidden from prying eyes.  

Aemond looked startled, but did not take his eyes away from you, while you bit your lips, looking into his lone eye pensively.  

“I would never ask you to choose.” 

“I know. But I would choose you regardless.” 

“Aemond...” 

“Come now.” Aemond's hand slowly slipped from your face, his touch a whisper against your skin as he traced the line of your soft neck, down your sharp shoulder, and along the curve of your arm. His fingers entwined with yours, warm and reassuring, tugging you gently forward. “I want to show you the books I mentioned this morning.” 

“But Aemond, it will be the evening meal soon. I will not have time to go back and change if we go to the library now.” 

“Then we will have our meal in the library.” 

You arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I am not sure that is proper.” 

“Hmmmm, good thing I am the fearsome one-eyed prince, and no one would dare go against my words.” You liked it when Aemond was playful, you decided. It was a nice contrast to see the teasing quality alight his one eye against the smooth stoicism of his otherwise marbled face. 

“Except your mother. And your grandfather. And Ser Criston...” 

Aemond tugged you harder, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Quite the jester you are. If you would rather eat dinner with my family...” 

“No, that is quite alright,” you said quickly, a singsong quality to your voice. You matched his stride, but your smile drops slightly when you noticed something on his surcoat. 

“Aemond... is that blood?” 

Aemond looked down at his leathers, then brushed his hand over it as if the specks of blood might disappear with a simple gesture. 

“Do not worry, my lady,” he said, his voice calm but evasive. 

“Aemond, what happened?” 

“ ‘tis nothing,” he replied, his tone reassuring but his eyes betraying a hint of something darker. “Just a minor incident. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” 

“Aemond...” you began, your concern evident in your voice. 

“Come, please. I would cherish the chance to show you my childhood books,” he interrupted gently, his eyes pleading for you to let the matter rest. 

You sighed, feeling the weight of the unspoken words between you. “Alright... keep your secrets then.” 

“I promise it is not as bad as it may look. Do you trust me?” he asked, his gaze unwavering and earnest. 

You so wanted to. Despite the unease gnawing at you, you smiled softly. “Lead the way, my prince.” 

Aemond's face lit up with a rare smile devoid of the dragon sharpness you had come to associate with him, as he tugged you in the direction of the library. The tension of the moment began to fade, replaced by the warmth of his presence. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the quiet rustle of your combined footsteps echoed through the hallways.  

Looking at Aemond’s strong back you thought that you would find out eventually where the blood came from. Ghosts are patient creatures, after all. 

Next chapter

[thedomesticanthropologist]

What would the bg3 companions do if Tav fixed a home-made meal and cleaned up their stuff for them, studio ghibli style?

I had to take quite a bit of time to think on this one because it would vary wildly depending on /when/ this happened. So, I am re-using my favorite scenario that was widely popularized over 20 years ago by the Gundam Wing fandom for fanfiction purposes, and we are going to say:

"The companions find a safe house where they must hole-up for several weeks before a major confrontation/continuing their journey. It provides a needed opportunity for respite and recovery, a moment to breathe in the eye of the storm." timeline: late Act 3

Tav prepares a home-made meal that takes them the entire day to make. Grilled fish fresh from the river, bread from scratch with herbs from the garden folded into it and butter spread across the top. Potatoes from the garden sliced, seasoned, roasted. Chicken caught and killed that very morning and boiled into a stew with pounds of fresh vegetables - and more. Yams, parsnips, salad greens, All they could find in the cellar, in the surrounding abandoned garden and small farmstead they had settled in. The type of meal that filled a table so thoroughly there was almost no place left to sit if one tried to have their meal at the table.

It had been so long since they had a home to care for, and this journey had given precious little time for such things as careful cleaning and cooking. The little cottage was full of delicious smells, a warm fire burned in the hearth and heated the entire space. The companions, who had all been out for the day on various missions, arrived back to find not only this, but more.

All of the clothes laundered, scented with lavender from the garden. All of their armor polished and scrubbed, weapons cleaned, packs tidied. Rooms swept of cobwebs, bedding replaced. Perhaps a little bit of magic had been used, for everything was dry as well as clean. How would they respond?

Gale: Warmth and joy. He breaks out into a huge smile and fills the room with compliments on everything youve done. A stickler for detail and known for his verbosity, he leaves out no single comment nor does he miss the chance to reflect on what each detail reminds him of - his mothers cooking, his home, the soul-brightening joy of fresh bedding pulled tightly over a clean mattress. He would do all of the clean up after dinner, showing his appreciation not only in words but affirming them with his actions as well.

Karlach: She gets choked up. Honestly. "you didnt have to" isnt on her mind at all, shes just incredibly grateful. You get the biggest bear hug and a shuddering voice of gratitude in your ear. It hasnt been just 'so long' since shes had this level of care- she never has. Nothing like this. She will remember this for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that life may be. You gave her something that healed a part of her permanently.

Wyll: Flushed and flustered. HE would be heavy on the "you shouldnt have- I would have helped! had you only asked-" Embarassed almost, in the way that he responds, as if he feels bad that he hadnt been able to pre-empt this scenario and find a way of doing it for you first. He feels... guilty. Tries to hide it with gratitude. Is a little quieter than usual.

Lae'zel: Asks what you expect in exchange for services rendered. Makes a quip about you being suited for running an inn as much as you are for battle. Clears her plate, then another. Goes a little quiet for a moment. Then: "You didnt need to. A waste of your time to cater to us thusly. (long pause) .... thank you."

Shadowheart: Questions why, wonders if youve done it to soften the blow of some oncoming bad news. Spends most of her time teasing the other companions for their reactions but in a way where its clear that shes guiding them towards more grateful responses. She smiles at you warmly and softly across the table, eyes twinkling. Her gentle teasing of you is filled with subtle offers of repaying the kindness in ways that you will not be able to expect or predict later on so that she may surprise you in kind. Also, to ensure you cannot reject her because you dont know whats coming or when.

Halsin: Very clearly thanks you with direct eye contact. If your relationship is good, he holds both your hands in his and gives them a firm but caring squeeze. All of his feelings are in his eyes and his words are exceptionally heartfelt and to the point. He has no issues with being appreciative or straightforward, and this meant a lot to him. Offers to run your bath for you later, since Gale is doing the dishes. Probably offers to wash your hair. Comes on to you a bit, he cant help it. Heart eyes 1000%

Astarion: Awkward. Uncomfortable. Initially tries to play it off with pomp and flourish, goes to hint that you just wanted to rifle through everyones things while no one was home. Does, actually, double check all of his belongings. You cant fault him for being who he is. Questions you with a deep frown, but waits to do so until he has you cornered in the back of the hallway where he waited for you to come out of the privy. You reassure him, and hes huffy about it. It takes a lot for him to go from accusational to deflated. Laments he cant enjoy the meal you prepared, only to be presented with a live hog in the store room and a bottle of red wine. You didnt forget. He stares, stutters out his gratitude. Does not apologize for grilling you. Body language towards you for the next few days has a distinct affectionate companionability to it. Small genuine smiles half hidden behind wine glasses.