#flour sack towel

[grannyandgrandpascreations]

Have A Hamm's Day Kitchen Dish Towel

Have a Hamm’s Day Flour Sack white Kitchen tea towel is a perfect unique gift for the Hamm’s Beer Bear Collector or perfect bar towel! This towel is a unique gift for any Hamm’s Beer Lover!

Flour sack dish towels are called “flour sack” because they are modeled after the thin cotton bags that flour and grain used to be packed in, which were re-used as towels. The thin cotton yarn and the looser weave make for a towel that’s extra absorbent. You can even air dry your salad greens; the super absorbent nature of flour sack towels makes them great for drying delicate greens. Also, flour sack towels are lint free! Which means no more fuzzies on your wine glasses when you wipe them dry!

Flour sack towels are also softer and significantly larger than a standard kitchen towel….and more towel is always a good thing! You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations.

Each flour sack kitchen towel measures 28 in. x 29 inches (Product dimensions L x W x H – 28 x 29 x 29 inches). They are 100% cotton, durable and absorbent. These are flat woven towels; they are perfect for cooking or baking and can safely be used around food such as covering dough for rising or as a food strainer. These towels also double as a kind of strainer or cheese cloth; the fine weave means you can strain sauces and broths through a flour sack towel to clarify them. Flour sack kitchen towels are sturdy, highly absorbent, dry quickly, and are designed to stand up to most any cleaning job. The towels easily withstand frequent washings and are made for repeated daily use.

The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

Thank you for visiting Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations, we truly appreciate your support of small businesses. We also personalize our products, please reach out to us with any personalizing any of our products, additional fee's may apply.

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com to view more products.

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#grannygrandpascustomcreations

Have A Hamm’s Day White Kitchen Towel. Great kitchen décor for the Hamm’s Beer or Hamm’s Bear Collector. This kitchen towel is available in one different writing colors. Granny & Grandpa’s Custom Creations also offers a Monthly Kitchen Towel Subscription Box…..check out our Kitchen Towel Subscription Box.

We are all a little bit of a mess in our own way, especially in the kitchen, which is why you can never have too many kitchen towels! Granny & Grandpa’s Custom Creation kitchen towels are attractive, affordable, update your kitchen décor with Granny & Grandpa’s kitchen towels and they make GREAT gifts! Our kitchen towels only come in white, but our designs are in many different colors.

Each flour sack kitchen towel measures 28 in. x 29 inches (Product dimensions L x W x H – 28 x 29 x 29 inches). They are 100% cotton, durable and absorbent. These are flat woven towels; they are perfect for cooking or baking and can safely be used around food such as covering dough for rising or as a food strainer. You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations. Flour sack kitchen towels are sturdy, highly absorbent, dry quickly, and are designed to stand up to most any cleaning job. The towels easily withstand frequent washings and are made for repeated daily use. The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

If your desired writing color is not shown, please reach out to us at grannyscustomcreations@gmail.com, as we would like to be able to accommodate your desired writing color to the design. Our Kitchen Towels are only available in white. Writing colors do vary.

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

[celesse]

New stuff coming soon! 😋💕

Been deep into prepping all kinds of new merch for Anthrocon! 💪💦 These towels and more will be launching online in July after debuting at the convention!

[polycraftory]

When you hyperfocus so intensely on your new craft that you forget that you still need to make your bed before you can crash 😭

[valiasims]

Baker's Kitchen Collection Part 2

Hey everyone!

Finally I'm uploading my new set which - as you can see from the earlier WIPs - is a clutter set which will go well with my previous collection. I tried to capture the chaos of baking when everything is out and there's a beatiful mess in the kitchen.

My aim was to theme the object around baking bread. There's still so much more I could have included but didn't have the time for it but I think these clutter items will fill up your kitchens and add a homey feeling to it.

I made a retro inspired stove and I'm really proud how it turned out. It can go well with a rustic kitchen but with a luxury kitchen as well. The bigger size is 1,5 tiles wide so for best placement you will need to turn on the half-tile placement with the F5 key.

I hope you like this collection and feel free to provide any feedback.

Have a nice day!

Stove (1 tile, 1,5 tile)

Folded tea towel

Tea towel (to put on the edge of the surfaces)

Scale

Measuring cups

Spilled flour

Flour sack

Dutch oven

Dough scraper

Tray of croissants

Tray of cinnamon rolls

Chopping board (two version)

Croissants

Bread

Baguettes

Bowls

Bowl with tea towel

Bowl

Big bowls

Basket with rolling pins

Banneton basket with bread

Banneton baskets

Egg holder

🔹 Compatibility All items are Base Game compatible. 🔹 TIP You can find the items easily in your Build Catalog if you type in "Baker's Kitchen" or "VALIA". 🔹 Info - Low poly, new, maxis match meshes- Since some items share the same texture you need to have them in your mods folder to properly work. 

DOWNLOAD FREE ON PATREON Public release on the 7th of June

[mildmayfoxe]

would it be super lame to get the red and black riso instead of letterpress. even though the letterpress would be soooo sexy. the people have spoken and they like the red and black the best

which of these pigs do you guys like. and or should i go in a different direction with the pigs

[hildergard]

Could you do something where Aemond is already married/betrothed to a highborn lady that’s been approved by Alicent and Otto but he has a relationship with a low born woman (a brothel worker or any lowborn really) and once he becomes Prince Regent he starts bringing her around the castle, giving her a room to herself, treating her better than how a lowborn should be treated in Alicent and Ottos eyes and they don’t like it but Aemond doesn’t care.

MINE TO PROTECT ★ AEMOND TARGARYEN

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Lowborn!Reader

TAGS | Suggestive content, swearing, possessive behaviour, classism

WORDCOUNT | 4k

NOTE | I have seen a lot of fanfictions where the Reader is a brothel worker so I made her a baker instead. I hope that's alright with you! Thank you so much for this great request! I had so much fun writing it <333

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

In the seedy streets of Flea Bottom, rumours travelled in a precise order, memorised by all.

A Lord, drunk with lust, would disclose the Crown’s secrets to a simpering whore, who would be quick⏤once the gold dragons were in her purse⏤to repeat what she had just heard, noble semen still running down her thighs. The other, much less wealthy, customers would then talk about it loudly in bars, attracting the attention of patrons who, once sober, had only to spread the news.

Today, the rumour burst into your little shop when Old Gerald came through the door, looking for his daily loaf of bread. 

 “Prince Aemond’s been made Regent," he said. 

For a second, you did not move. The dough fell on wood. Your floured hands remained stuck in the sticky, flabby mixture. It would have to be kneaded again. The sight of your dirty fingers woke you from your torpor. You gripped the towel from your apron and wiped your palms roughly before turning your back on your customer⏤less to get the fresh loaves of bread out of the oven than to regain your composure.

He had done it. 

Your shovel rasped against the burning slab of clay and peeled off the loaves. 

A few days earlier, when night had enveloped the citizens of King's Landing in its thick cloak, he had told you of his plans and dreams⏤the two were always intertwined, for Aemond Targaryen provoked fate rather than waited for it. His touch had done nothing to soften the brutality of his words. Sordid tales of fire and blood, the kind that filled the tomes of the Citadel. 

Even the Targaryens could not play with fire indefinitely. Aemond rose in the flames. For how much longer? You had protested, your voice hoarse from the moans he had managed to draw from your throat, but he would have none of it and simply told you to trust him, as if all this were far too complicated for you. 

And perhaps that was the case, for what did you know of war and power?

“What about his Majesty?" you asked.

Old Gerald tossed you three coppers, which you pocketed, before handing you a thick piece of cloth. 

“They say he perished in dragonfire. Seems Targaryens are closer to men, after all. With all this quarrel for t'throne, it were inevitable. And, let me tell you, it'll happen again. Today, a brother sits on t'throne. Tomorrow, it'll be an uncle or a sister. Things like that never end.”

You carefully wrapped the golden loaf in the cloth. 

“Wi' Rhaenyra in Dragonstone and his brother's heir dead, he’ll no doubt be crowned King. And the Lady Baratheon, Queen.”

You winced at the name but immediately hid your reaction with a tight smile. Gerald, bless him, took no notice of your torment. You handed the loaf of bread to the old cobbler, who nodded at you and returned to his shoes. 

The rumour ran on and kept you thinking all day. You burnt a dozen loaves of bread, spilt two sacks of flour and forgot to deliver her apple pies to Dorthy Porter, making you lose a silver stag and a customer.

When the key finally turned in the lock of the shop and cut you off from the rest of the world, your shoulders slumped. The sun and all its problems gave way to the moon. Under its silvery eyes, other rumours would no doubt spread but you did not wish to hear them. You longed for your straw mattress and the comfort of your dreams⏤perhaps your love would visit you there, also freed from the pressure the Gods were piling on his shoulders. 

Tiredness weakened your knees⏤you dragged your body more than you climbed the stairs to your modest bedroom. In the middle of the room, the bed and its pillow stretched out its arms to you. You let yourself fall into the feathery embrace and closed your eyes for a moment, praying to the Gods that you would find sleep easily. 

They ignored you. 

The doorbell rang. 

Your eyelids struggled to open. Sleep paralysed them⏤it clutched at your eyelashes and tried to keep them closed but you fought the temptation and, at last, gazed into the dim light of the room. Another series of blows, more hurried, struck against the wood. The whole  shop seemed to shake. 

“I’m coming, I'm coming…” you mumbled. 

You gasped as two members of the Kingsguard appeared on your doorstep, their cloaks far too white to be dragged through the muddy streets of Flea Bottom. 

“The Prince Regent, His Highness Aemond Targaryen, summons you.”

They did not care for your reply and seized you. You protested, demanded to be told the reason for this summon, but nothing would do. The guards dragged you like a rag doll through the streets of King's Landing, indifferent to your screams and struggle. Above and around you, the candlelight in the windows intensified. Some people poked their heads out to watch the racket. You lowered your chin and remained silent, but the damage had been done. 

Already, rumours were spreading. The baker had been arrested. What had she done? Who would make their bread from now on?  

The dizzy shadow of the Red Keep loomed larger and larger. Just the outline of it made your skin crawl. For the first time, you would be treading on the floor of Kings and Queens. You were being plunged headfirst into this unknown, powerful and dangerous place, populated by men and women who despised people like you. One of the guards tightened his grip around your arm. You yelped. Why were they taking you there? Aemond always came to you, not the other way round. 

Did someone know? You blanched. Impossible, you thought immediately. You had been cautious. 

But what if... What if someone had seen you, despite all your precautions? 

 Were they taking you to the Keep to put you to the sword?  

 A flash of fear stabbed you in the guts.  

You finally passed through the large gates of the castle. They were still open, yet, no one was in the courtyard. The swords were resting on the workbenches and the horses were asleep. Only a few guards patrolled the ramparts, their heads turned skywards in search of a dragon. 

“Hurry up, girl. The Prince is waiting.”

A solitary, proud figure emerged at the top of the stairs, in front of the entrance. His long white hair fluttered in the wind and the bluish moonlight accentuated his strict features and pale complexion. The mere sight of his face reassured you. You defied the guards and walked towards him. 

His rough hand⏤hardened by duty and war⏤gripped yours before thin lips kissed it. The Prince pulled you towards him. Your heart slowed as his familiar scent enveloped you and your shoulders relaxed. For a second, you surrendered to the comfort of his warmth and love. The smell of musk and leather soothed your body, but your head kept its wits about it.

“What's happening, Aemond?”

He closed his eye as his name fell from your lips and smiled. His hand came down and grasped your waist in a possessive embrace. You leaned into the touch. 

“There are rumours that Aegon–”

You squeaked. His fingers had dug painfully into your flesh at his brother's name. 

The mere mention of him brought back painful and humiliating memories, which your lover had confided to you, his head on your pillow. Even today, the wounds had not healed. They continued to transpire in every aspect of his life. You are the only thing he has not stolen from me, he had told you one night. Saying that name was like throwing his past back in his face and breaking your promise. He'll never succeed, you had replied, but today, Aegon was on your mind. What did his wound mean for the Crown, for you?

“Is it true?" you managed to articulate. 

“The Council has made me Regent," he nodded. “We will not need to hide any longer, my love.”

“What do you mean?”

But Aemond did not answer you. He smiled, tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and let his fingers brush your neck. With a nod, the kingsguards left. The clink of their armour echoed for long seconds, but the din faded with the tenderness of his gestures. His finger traced the veins in your chest. They led him to your breasts, hidden by your dress. Aemond grunted⏤terribly offended by this affront⏤and pulled at the fabric but it held on. 

Claere Linstar's work was reknown throughout Flea Bottom. You could not find a better weaver⏤today, you were thankful for the two silver stags you had spent. The garment would become the guarantor of your dignity, the bulwark against your desire. 

When you realised that your Prince was not going to answer your question, you took a step back. His hand fell limply between the two of you as a brief look of pain clouded his face. 

“Aemond?”

He straightened up and held out his hand to you. 

“Follow me.”

The labyrinthine corridors made your head spin. You lost count of the turns you took, the staircases you climbed and the alcoves you passed. The beauty of the mouldings and frescoes drew admiring sighs from you several times, but Aemond did not care. He walked past them without giving them a second glance. He's used to all this, you reminded yourself. People of his rank bathed in this luxury and grandeur since birth.  

On the way, maids dressed in red and white stopped at your sight. Their gaze fell on your face, on your body, on your hand locked in the Prince's... Your cheeks heated and you tried to pull away, but Aemond tightened his grip. Out of habit, his thumb caressed your skin. This time, his touch only made you tense. You bowed your head, ashamed. 

They knew. 

The thought stayed with you. 

You only lifted your head when Aemond stopped in front of an ornate door. The mouldings curved into flowers and birds⏤an ode to spring and renewal. Your eyes swept the decor, stopped on a bush of camellias and, finally, met the Prince's satisfied gaze. 

“We've arrived," he announced. 

Aemond opened the door with a confident gesture. Inside, an immense room stretched out and seemed to never end. Wealth oozed out of every corner, from the four-poster bed to the dressing table adorned with sapphires. On the wall, frescoes of flowers had been painted to match the powder pink drapes⏤an explosion of colour that turned drab the corridors you had been raving about just a few minutes before. 

“Is it to your taste?”

You turned back to Aemond. Although his chin was up and his back was straight⏤proud as ever⏤red bloomed on his cheeks. Your lover seemed embarrassed, a far cry from his usual composure. Almost timidly, his hand sought yours. He couldn't help it, you realised. His fingers always found yours⏤skin against skin to find what he had been deprived of all his childhood. 

“I don't know anyone who wouldn't like it," you replied.

“Hmm. Good.”

He pulled you to him. His hands went down to your buttocks and pressed you against his chest. Your pelvises collided. Suddenly, the room made sense. You let yourself drown in these familiar gestures. Your hand caressed his muscular shoulders, moved up to his jaw and brushed against his lips. Aemond kissed the pad of your thumb before replacing it with your lips. Soon, the wet sound of saliva echoed through the room. The sweet melody ignited a fire in your lower abdomen and moved down between your thighs. 

Your hand resumed tracing arabesques on your lover's smooth skin. It stopped at the buttons on his doublet and hastily undid them before wandering lower and lower…

Aemond stopped you before you could take him in your hand. His hand grabbed yours. He kissed your palm and pressed it against his cheek. 

“These will be your quarters.”

The fire went out, leaving you frozen with shock. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“What do you mean?" you asked breathlessly.

“Now that I am Regent, we will not have to hide any more.” 

A new glare lit up his eye. Purple turned black and made you shiver. Flames seemed to dance in his pupil, crushing all remains of the second son he had once been. That Aemond was dead. In his place was a Regent who thought himself above laws and men.  

“It's not proper, Aemond," you tried to protest. “If it gets out that I'm here... If the Dowager Queen or the Hand–”

“They have no say in the matter. My word is law now.”

 “If you want me here… Perhaps I could serve the Crown, join the kitchens. Anything but that, Aemond," you said, gesturing to those quarters, far too luxurious for someone of your breeding. 

“You do not belong in the fucking kitchens," he scoffed. “No. You will be by my side, as my equal.”

“You're engaged," you retorted. “The Lady Baratheon won't take kindly to my presence here. You nobles can make Small Folk disappear in a blink of an eye and no one would notice or care.”

Alira Merchin's story was remembered as a cautionary tale for young girls naive enough to think love could conquer blood. The fable was classic⏤hundreds of similar romances filled libraries, and perhaps it was these very ones that had encouraged the girl to seduce the heir of House Harte. The man fell in love and made the pretty merchant his lover. 

This did not please his wife, the daughter of Lord Chelsted. 

She got rid of the merchant with disconcerting ease. The poor girl was found trampled by horses in white and green bards. That day, Lord Harte lost his true love and spent the rest of his life suffering the consequences of his betrayal. 

Your heart dropped. What would happen to you if you tickled the stag? Ours if the Fury. Their motto was an ode to their rage, to their thirst for violence. If Floris Baratheon found out that Prince Aemond was bedding you... and in the Keep nonetheless…

The storm would come for you and you would perish in its eye. 

“It's not a good idea, Aemond," you finally said. 

“Do not fret, my love. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here to protect you.”

The Prince pulled you into bed. 

Your protests died on your lips, muffled by moans and the exquisite feel of his skin against yours. 

Your fingers tightened around your thighs. The soap made your skin slippery but did nothing to wash away the shame that had been clinging to it for days. It colonised your flesh and left it tainted, eating away at your muscles and weighing down your heart. 

On the first day, after a passionate night, maids had arrived to prepare you, but you refused their care. You were no Lady. You had bathed alone all your life and would continue to do so. More than anything, you wanted to escape their watchful eyes, which would no doubt have noticed the hickeys on your chest and thighs. 

You did not know how rumours got around in the Keep, but you were sure that they first burgeoned on the maids’ lips. They blossomed as quickly as in Flea Bottom⏤the inquisitive nature of man was innate⏤, but it would not be Old Gerald getting wind of it. No. The stakes were much higher in these parts, and the consequences even more dire. 

The door to your quarters stood in the way of the horror surely awaiting you, but for how much longer? 

Your hands massaged your calf, hoping to rediscover a cherished routine. You longed for the feel of dough beneath your fingers. What would become of your shop? Would you have to sell it? Maybe someone had already moved in⏤abandoned houses never stayed so for long in Flea Bottom, the cradle of the poor and the homeless. 

You could not cherish the roof above your head, yet, you supposed you had to learn to appreciate it. Aemond did not seem eager to let you go.  

Aemond. 

Every day, the sun tore him away from you. His hours were devoted to the Small Council and military strategies, only half of which you understood when he explained them to you. Your Prince needed to talk, to get rid of the weight that was arching his back. You became the shoulder on which he rested, the ear into which he poured his doubts, the flesh in which he forgot himself. 

“I wish to be with you every hour of the day, to attach myself to your side, but the Gods will only grant me this pleasure when I win this war. I am fighting for you⏤for us,” he had told you. 

The moon brought him back into your arms. Every night, without exception, he would cross the threshold of the door and wrap you in a reassuring embrace. His arms would block out your gloomy thoughts and chase away shame and regret⏤all seemed worth it if it kept him close to you. The stars looked down on your love. When the bells rang the hour of the owl, you indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, whispered sweet nothings or simply enjoyed the peaceful silence that the other's presence guaranteed. Sometimes, Aemond, lying on the bed with your head on his stomach, would read you stories with his hand buried in your hair. 

And then, the hour of the Nightingale would sound, its tranquillity burning away in the first rays of sunlight. The enchanted interlude would close and you would spend the day dreaming of a life where sun and duty did not separate you. 

Shame would reappear, its weight with it, and fear⏤tangible and vibrant⏤would turn your stomach. 

The spectre of Floris Baratheon never left you. It haunted you. In the frescoes of camellias on the wall. In the bouquets of flowers dotting your quarters. In the venison served for dinner. The tales of her beauty reached you and left you bitter, but what they said about her quiet authority made your blood run cold. 

She would come for you. 

The Lady Baratheon occupied all your thoughts, so much so that you forgot about another much more dangerous threat. 

One day, Alicent Hightower stalked into your room. 

You dropped your embroidery in your lap and hastily sat up. The needle fell to the floor with a disturbing chime. The bell was tolling⏤this farce had gone on far too long and it would now end. 

The Dowager Queen dropped a small leather bag on the table. Its contents clinked and masked your gasping breath for a second. Your heart was pounding against your temples. Soon, the air would run out. Already your throat was closing up and you were struggling to swallow. 

“What is it?" you asked weakly. 

“Five thousand gold dragons. Enough to buy you a new life, far from the Keep, far from Westeros.”

Away from my son, she meant. 

“I won't leave Aemond.”

He needs me, you thought. 

“The Prince Regent does not need you," the Queen scoffed as if she could heard your mind. “He is engaged. Or have you forgotten that? Whoring yourself in the way you do… It would appear so. Have you thought about the repercussions of your actions when people find out about you? The risks it means for Aemond? Your very presence here jeopardises this entire war.”

“I have tried to–”

“He does not love you, you fool. He just wants a cunt to fuck without having to spend a single penny.”

You recoiled, surprised to hear the famously pious queen speak so vulgarly. 

War transformed souls. It made them ugly. Alicent Hightower’s wide eyes and pursed lips twisted her face into a terrifying expression. 

She sighed and, for a moment, her features became those of a compassionate woman. 

“I don't know what… hold my son has over you," she continued in a calmer voice, “but you seem smart enough to understand this will end badly. You must leave. Take the gold and let us be done with this farce.”

The door slammed against the wall before you could even consider the proposal. 

Aemond reached your side with a confident stride. 

“What's going on here? Mother?”

When the latter did not answer, he looked to you for answers. You lowered your head, unable to bear the look of concern in his purple eye any longer. 

It fell lower, onto the table and the leather purse.  

“What is the meaning of this?” he raised his voice. 

Silence stretched before Alicent Hightower relented. 

“You cannot… support a lowborn in such manners, Aemond. The girl must go.”

The Prince ignored his mother and took you in his arms. His nose nestled under your ear as his hands buried themselves in your hair. He guided your head into his neck and whispered comforting words, which you could not hear. You did not care. His familiar scent embraced you and brought tears to the corners of your eyes. They wet your cheeks and his collar. 

You should never have come here. 

“Out.”

His mother protested. 

“Imagine the shame for your future wife, the Lady Baratheon! For her house! If we lose Storm's End because of... because of this w–” 

“Hold your tongue and leave.”

“Aemond, if you do this, we are lost!”

“Get out!”

Footsteps retreated. A door slammed. Aemond sighed. His hand drew abstract symbols on the back of your head for a moment before encouraging you to look at him. 

“Oh, my love," he said, seeing your misty eyes. “All is well now. She will not hurt you any more.”

The danger you had put yourself in was greater than you had thought. Fear dried your mouth and exhausted your words. You stammered a few excuses before taking a deep breath. Your Prince's fingers did not weaken. They continued to comfort you and, at last, gave you the courage you needed to finally speak. 

“Maybe I should return to Flea Bottom. I–” 

“No," Aemond’s voice cracked. 

His hands framed your face and pulled you closer until your noses were touching. 

“You are not leaving me.”

His lips were harsh, covering every inch of your skin. He kissed the bridge of your nose, your warm cheekbones, your wet eyelids. Tears ran aground in the cracks of his lips and dried up under his exquisite tenderness. No beauty spot, no eyelash, was spared. His lips erased his mother's words and the doubts in your heart. 

“You belong here, with me. I do not care for blood or war. I only wish for your love.”

Aemond filled the space between your mouths. His hands reached down and grasped your breast. He feasted on your lips and the taste of them like a hungry man. Tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower abdomen. You rolled your hips, searching for his, but your lover pulled away.

You didn't want him to stop. 

The Prince shushed your complaints and pushed you to the bed. Your back bounced on the goose feather mattress. Eager to feel his skin against yours, you sat up and tried to pull him to you, but Aemond took a step back. A petty smile stretched his lips as he heard you whimper. He ignored you and stood silent, admiring you. His eyes, now black, gazed down at your body, contemplating its shape and softness.

“Aemond, please…”

Your lover grabbed an ankle and kissed it. You moaned. He moved up your calf, caressing your knee and digging his fingers into your thighs before spreading them apart. His teeth nipped at the flesh, which his tongue immediately soothed. Your breathing quickened and breathy moans fell from your swollen lips, intoxicated by his touch. He skipped over your dripping cunt, his hands grazing your hips and sides.  

Suddenly, Aemond stopped touching you, placed a farewell kiss on your belly and sat up on his elbows. 

“I will take care of everything, my love. You will never have to fear for your life. It is mine to cherish, mine to love, mine to protect," he said before reaching up to capture your lips with his. “Mine.”

“I love you," you sighed. 

Aemond smiled, as he did every time the words fell from your lips. One could not get used to the sweetness of love. It forever stirred the heart and soothed the soul. Your Prince placed a chaste kiss on your lips before moving down and disappearing between your thighs. 

His words vanished in desire and pleasure. You forgot them the next day, when the hour of the Nightingale struck.  

You should have known that Aemond Targaryen would keep his promise.

Three days later, the Lady Baratheon was found dead in the Kingswood, impaled on a stag's antlers. 

[sugarbunnyshop]

Stop working those pecks so hard and make kitchen clean up a breeze with these handy 100% cotton flour sack tea towels 🐔💛

Available here! ✨

[cambion-companion]

“Just let me finish this and I swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” (144) lets get down to bussines

Part 2 of "Spray of Blood"

Word count: 2724

reader gets lost trying to run back to King's Landing and Aemond, still splattered in blood, has to find her and bring her back to safety.

haha this is a joint effort it seems! Also I have wanted to write reader sitting on Aemond's face so thank you for #86

28. i’m just getting comfy

74. “Do you want me to stay?”

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

98. “if we weren’t in public right now i’d have my head between your legs”

Aemond x wife!reader | smutty ending | 18+ only | fluff and a sprinkle of angst | Aemond isn't super happy lmao

You were lost.

Cursing, you stopped in the middle of the empty street, turning on the spot, surveying your unfamiliar surroundings.

"Fuck me sideways." You muttered, taking a moment to rub your aching temples.

You had indulged in too much spiced wine at the festival, muddling your already questionable orienteering skills.

"If the lady insists." A hissing voice accompanied a slender man emerging from the shadows of a stone building.

He held no weapon, seeming to think you easy prey as he strode forward, already unbuckling his trousers.

You still held the stone you had picked up when Aemond had confronted the men in the market, and so you collected your frayed nerves, taking careful aim as Aemond had taught you.

You threw the shard of brick, it struck true with a dull thud to the man's head. He went down like a sack of flour, hitting the damp cobblestones with a dull thud.

Shaking, you hurried on your way, in the direction you hoped the Red Keep was in. At least you were still walking uphill, that seemed to be a good sign.

After a few minutes of meandering, warm yellow light fell upon your face, a tavern in front of you that appeared cozy and welcoming. As you entered, you noticed a few other patrons, but the dining area and counter was mostly empty. A squat looking man was stacking dishware behind the bar counter as you took a seat.

He gave you a cursory glance with a raised eyebrow, you shifted to hide the fine fabric of your dress beneath the cloak you still wore. You pulled back your hood, wanting to be recognizable if Aemond passed the window searching for you.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked in a gruff baritone, seeming not to care what brought you to his establishment so long as you had gold.

"Do you have hot tea? Or something non-alcoholic?" You asked. "I just came from the fire festival and had a bit too much to drink there."

"Ah I see!" The man smiled, his ruddy cheeks reflecting the candlelight. "Yes, I can get you some green tea brewed up. Does wonders for a hangover."

"Thank you."

Minutes passed, turning to hours as you sat at the uncomfortable wooden table. You drank several mugs of steaming earthy tea, enjoying the way it warmed your body from the inside out.

"Are ye waiting for someone?" The bartender looked at you quizzically, clearly wondering why you were remaining for so long. All the other patrons had left for their homes by now.

"Yes, my husband."

"You're lost?"

You shifted uneasily in your seat, casting him a wary glance.

He raised his hands, a towel draped over his shoulder. "I mean you no harm miss, but if you'd like directions, I can give them." He glanced outside at the dark streets. "Though perhaps it best if you wait here, it's not safe for anyone to be wandering about right now."

"Where am I?"

He chuckled looked at you with a fatherly smile. "Outskirts of Flea Bottom."

You groaned.

"Not where you intended to be I expect. Not wearing a dress like that."

You shifted your cloak to cover yourself better.

"You have nothing to fear from me." The keeper reiterated. "I'll not cast you out till your husband comes to fetch you."

"Thank you." You lay your head upon your hands, staring glassy eyed out the window, praying to all the gods Aemond would find you.

You had fallen into a doze, jolted awake by the sound of the inn door slamming open and the exclamation of the barkeep still behind his counter.

Aemond, glorious with his shining hair and piercing violet eye, strode into the tavern, his gaze locked onto you.

"My-my prince! What an unexpected..." The tavern keeper trailed off as he watched Aemond walking purposefully toward you.

You rose from your seat, throwing your arms around Aemond's neck as he pulled you against him, his hands at your back, stroking soothingly as he kissed your ear.

You tried your best not to sob. "Aemond, I got lost."

"You're the wife of Aemond Targaryen?"

The two of you broke apart to turn to the front of the room, where the keeper was bowing low.

"He helped keep me safe." You interlocked your fingers with Aemond's.

Your husband stepped up to the rough wood counter, depositing a bag of clinking coins onto its surface. "You have my gratitude."

The man continued to bow, averting his gaze. Aemond made a soft "hmm" in the back of his throat, guiding you out of the warm room into the cool night air.

You didn't get far before he pulled you to a stop, his taut face illuminated silver in the moonlight. "I've been searching for you for hours, Y/N."

"I-"

He held up a hand to stop you from speaking. "You were not in our rooms. So, I returned to the square as quickly as I could, asking anyone still outside if they had seen you."

You looked down at your feet guiltily as Aemond continued.

"Imagine my surprise when I find a man collapsed upon the ground, a stone beside him and a lump on his forehead."

"He...had ill intentions." You whispered, still studying your shoes.

"Hmm. A shame I left him alive then." Aemond's fingers hooked under your chin, pulling your face to look up at him. "However, that is how I found you sitting in that tavern."

You slowly moved forward, tentatively wrapping your arms around Aemond's waist. You could tell how worn and anxious he was, specks of blood still upon his tunic from the men he'd dispatched earlier that evening.

"Aemond, I'm sorry for getting lost. I...was panicking and a little drunk." You smiled weakly as his face softened, his lilac eye roving your features as you rubbed small circles to the small of his back.

"I had intended this to be a relaxing evening of fun." Aemond said, giving a short laugh of derision. He cupped your face in his hands. You noticed they shook slightly. "I was beside myself with worry, Y/N." He brushed his soft lips to yours gently. "This is not a place for a woman to wander alone."

"You have me safe now, Aemond."

"And safe is where I will keep you."

He kissed you firmly, slanting his mouth over yours, his fingers tangling in your hair as you made a soft noise against him. In the tension of his body against your own you felt how worked up he was from the events of the night, the intensity with which he kissed you promised bruised lips in the morning.

“If we weren’t in public right now I'd have my head between your legs."

"Aemond." You whispered, shocked, as you checked over your shoulder for anyone listening. The streets were luckily empty, though several windows were wide open.

"Come." The prince grasped your hand firmly in his and began leading you in the correct direction of the Red Keep.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the welcome sight of your chambers, lit with the orange glow of a blazing fire in the hearth that you immediately crossed to stand before, warming your hands.

Your large, clawed bathtub sat full of steaming water in the middle of the room.

Aemond came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I had the servants draw a bath for your return, we are fortunate it seems to still be hot."

You felt him beginning to loosen the ties of your dress. "Do you want me to stay?" He asked, nuzzling into your neck. "I'd understand if you need to be alone. It has been a...difficult evening."

"Please stay, Aemond. I need you with me, especially right now."

He kissed your neck and resumed undoing your dress. You smiled to yourself at his evident eagerness to see you laid bare before him.

The fabric of your dress and undergarments pooled around your feet, you leaned into Aemond's warm touch as he fondled the curves of your ass and hips with one hand, his other reaching around to stroke at your breasts.

You turned to him, allowing his gaze to roam your firelit body. "You are still covered in blood, my lord husband." Your wandering fingers began undoing the clasps of his own clothing, shedding each garment with tender care until he was as naked as you, his thick member already standing at attention.

You smiled coyly at him, allowing him to support your balance as you stepped into the hot water of the bath. You sank down into the silken water, scooting forward enough for Aemond to take his place behind you.

You pressed your back against him, your hands running along his legs as they caged your body, his arms wrapping around your torso.

"I'm just getting comfy." You murmured, leaning back so that your head rested against Aemond's chest, looking up at his adoring gaze.

He had removed his eyepatch, the sapphire gemstone glittering dazzlingly by the reflection of firelight against the water that now lapped against the edges of the wooden tub.

The two of you rested like this together, rubbing each other down with soap and wash cloths. You took your time cleansing Aemond's skin, feeling the knots in his tense muscles and kneading them loose, his eye fluttered shut at your loving attentions.

Only when the water had cooled and the two of you began to shiver, did you exit the bath, helping each other towel down until you were relatively dry. Aemond grabbed your waist, pulling you in for another scorching kiss, one of many he'd bestowed upon you that night.

"Lay on the bed for me."

You obeyed, perhaps misinterpreting his meaning as you wrapped yourself in your nightrobe before getting comfortable in bed. You watched Aemond from your cocoon of blankets as he busied himself trying to get the stains out of his tunic and undershirt.

"Aemond..." You called quietly, trying to entice him over with the lilt of your voice.

"The blood has set into the fabric long enough, Y/N. Give me a moment to try and lift it."

"Aemond." You wiggled beneath the covers, seeking to draw his gaze.

“Just let me finish this and I swear I'll go down on you until you cum at least three times.”

"If you don't come over here now, I'm going to start touching myself."

You knew just what to threaten.

With a growl, Aemond threw down his ruined shirt upon the sofa, striding to the bed and throwing the blankets off your body. "Take that off." His dilated eye took in your tantalizing curves wrapped up in your fluffy nightrobe.

"I'm cold."

"Do not tease me anymore this eve." Aemond crawled over your prone form, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip. "You heard me. Take. It. Off."

You undid the tie around your waist, shifting the fabric off, exposing yourself once more to your husband's eager touch. His fingers rolled your pebbling nipples, tugging at your flesh, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as you arched into him.

"Already so wet for me." Aemond murmured against your lips, his hand cupping your sex, feeling between your slick folds.

You gasped at the feeling of him exploring you. In a fluid motion, you rolled your entwined bodies over, shifting to sit on his torso, looking down at Aemond's face, his curved lips parted in surprise.

"I want to be on top." You could barely speak, so entranced you were at the sight of him laid beneath you, his silver hair spread out atop the pillows. "Let me do this, please."

You rocked your hips, feeling his hard arousal beneath you as you stroked your vulva along Aemond's shaft. His eyelid fluttered at the sensation, his hands rising to grip your hips as you lost yourself in the feeling of him.

"Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

Your mouth parted, Aemond tugged you a little forward by his grip on your hips. "Are-are you sure I won't suffocate you?"

Aemond laughed. "If you do, I couldn't think of a better way to go."

Heat pooled in your belly as you scooted forward, bracing your hands against the bedframe as you hovered on your knees over Aemond's face. "You're sure?"

"Y/N."

Aemond rose just enough to tease your entrance with his nose, nuzzling against your swollen clit. You gasped, lowered yourself rather gracelessly onto his angular face.

You quivered, feeling Aemond's tongue working against you as you rocked gently against him. His chin, his nose all pressed against your most sensitive parts. The wet sound of him lapping up your essence filled the darkened room.

"Oh Aemond." You gripped the bedframe tighter, making sure to not actually suffocate your husband with your cunt no matter how he tried to pull you more against his searching mouth, his fingers pressing deep against the flesh of your thighs.

He grunted, the vibration of his voice causing you to clench around the tip of his tongue as he fucked it into you. His nose continued pressing and rubbing against your clit, Aemond moving his whole face with your movements as you began to grind down on him, losing your self control.

His name spilled from your panting mouth, your climax rushing over you like waves upon the sea cliffs. Aemond drank you down eagerly, his tongue lapping you up as though you tasted of the finest wine. You rode out your orgasm on his face, your legs shaking as you lifted yourself off him, collapsing to the mattress as your husband rolled over you once more. His hair was a mess, his lips and chin soaked from your juices. You bit your bottom lip at the lewd sight, his eye tracking the movement.

Aemond kissed you, more gently than you had anticipated, his tongue searching your mouth, allowing you to taste your own release as he lined his cock to your entrance. You gripped the back of his head, gasping against him as he sunk slowly into you. Aemond's breath filled your lungs as his cock stretched you out deliciously, filling you until he was fully seated within your still quivering walls.

Aemond broke your kiss, pulling away enough to watch your face as he began rutting into you. His gentleness gave way to a rougher, more desperate pace, his cock brushing your cervix with every punishing stroke. You clung to him, your legs rising instinctively to allow him deeper access.

"Y/N." Aemond breathed your name like a prayer, his chest still flush against your own as he nibbled the shell of your ear. "I can feel you tightening around me." You cried out as he increased his pace still more, fucking you deep into the mattress. "I need you to come. Show me you're mine." His cock twitched inside you. "Mine alone to claim."

"I am yours, Aemond." You felt your second orgasm of the night begin to rush through your body, your spasming quim already beginning to milk his member. "Forever yours."

Your name, so sweet on Aemond's tongue, filled the night air, mingling with your wordless moans of ecstasy as your husband spilled his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He pushed himself as deep into you as he could, remaining rooted there until you had both come down from the high of your climax.

Your legs were shaking in earnest now, Aemond reluctantly pulled away, his cum spilling out of you onto the now ruined bedsheets. Exhausted, satiated, and heedless of the mess you'd made, Aemond pulled you against him, encasing you in his arms. He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you made a pillow of his chest, his legs still tangled with your own.

Sleep took you quickly, a lock of Aemond's silken hair wrapped around your forefinger as you had a habit of doing when seeking comfort.

Aemond lay awake for a long while after you had drifted off, his mind still alive with the fear and rage that had consumed him mere hours before. Bedding you had taken the edge off, however the many gruesome possibilities of what could have happened remained unbidden and unwelcome.

He held you tighter against his lithe body, feeling the reassuring rise and fall of your chest on his, the light snores emitting from your slack mouth. Eventually exhaustion overtook Aemond, his eye falling closed, his lips still pressed to your head even in sleep.

[peyton-warren]

Okay sorry last one!

Sy knows that you’ve been ignoring your health. (Brushing teeth, showering, eating properly, sleeping properly) but he’s been pleasing you every chance the two of you get.

Could be because you’re with him or you just have been busy, but you get a toothache and he takes you to the base dentist or a regular dentist. It’s something simple like just a stuck popcorn shell or something like that. Or maybe you pass out. Idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

He decides that if you want to cum again, you have to take better care of yourself. No grinding either. Every time you do, you suck him off while he teases you. Until you take better care of yourself. No orgasms

I might have taken this one a little off the track you set but we got back on it by the end. There is no smut there is a hell of suggestion at the end. I hope this is ok. And its a weeee bit longer than a drabble. Wrote this all by hand in the woods thanks for the prompt that resonated so much with me.

Characters: Gender Neutral reader, Captain Syverson Pairings: Sy x Reader Fandoms: Sandcastle, Henry Cavill characters Word count: 4111 Type: angst, suggestive Warning: 18+. Warnings: blood, Reader injured, discussion of domestic abuse, self depreciation, discussion of mental illness, daddy kink, potential eating disorder, tiny Daddy kink

Summary: Reader has to be taken to the hospital by their new-ish boyfriend Sy. Sy learns some things about his partner that has Reader worried about their future together.

Author's Note: I have no idea how a real ER works, nor proper medical procedures nor hospital policies.  I manipulated them for my own gain here.  Nor do I fully understand how blood sugars work or what the tests doctors use tell them about your eating habits.  Don't come after me if you know how they actually do work. Also thank you to @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta.

Ask Box: Open Masterlist

Banner by me with an assist by @ellethespaceunicorn Dividers by @cafekitsune

Dazed, you blinked your tired eyes open.  

“There they are,” Sy cooed softly, crouching next to you.  

You blinked again, trying

to focus.

He was next to you on his kitchen floor.  You stared up into the concerned blue eyes above you.

Oh right date night.  You two had been cooking dinner. 

“I didn't know you were afraid of blood,” he said with sincerity, no teasing or judgment in his tone.  

“I’m not,” you said defensively.  Then you realized the last thing you remembered was nicking your finger cutting up veggies and then nothing.  “What happened?” You asked.  

“You passed out,” he told you.  “I saw you waver out of the corner of my eye and caught you in time to keep you from hitting the deck,” he told you.  “How are you feeling?”

“Okay?”

“Just okay?  You think you can sit up?” He offered you a hand.  As you placed your palm in his, he carefully helped you into a sitting position, his other arm gently curving around your back, just in case.  “How’s that?” he asked, squeezing your hand.  

“Okay.  I think.”

“I don't like your uncertainty,” he admitted, softly, looking at you with a deeper concern.  “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No!” you shook your head vehemently, hating to cause him or anyone even a hit of inconvenience.  “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine, sweetheart,” he told you.  “You look like you have seen a ghost.  You're trembling and your palm hasn't stopped bleeding. We are going to the ER,” he insisted.  “Even if I have to hog tie you and throw you in the back of the truck.”

“Sy, I’m fine,” you tried again.  

Sy moved from you only briefly to grab a kitchen towel that read “Mama Tried,” and returned promptly to press it to your palm which you just now noticed is covered in blood.  “I didn’t think I cut it that bad,” you admitted.  You were unable to assess the damage before it was covered in flour sack material.  

“You jabbed it in there pretty good just before you went down.”  Sy pulled his phone from his pocket.  “Now are you willingly coming with me to the hospital? Or am I calling the squad?”

You knew your stubborn asshole of a boyfriend wasn't going to back down until you were properly checked out.  After a beat, a silence, just a split second before you were certain he was going to open his phone, you relented.   “Alright.”

He placed a hurried kiss to your forehead as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.  “Good.  Now put your other hand over the towel and I’ll get you to the truck.”

You scoffed at this.  “You are not carrying me to the truck,” you said.  “I’ll get myself out there.  Just get me off the damn floor.”

Sy chucked.  “There’s my sweetheart.  Hold the towel tight,” he insisted just before standing behind you and hooking his hands under your arm and effortlessly lifting you to your feet.  His hand held your upper arm tight as he rounded you and looked intently at your face.  “You al’ite?”

“I’m fine, Sy,” you ground out, done with being fussed over.  

With a single nod, he placed that hand to your lower back and gently guided you to the door. “Easy and gently,” he reminded you.  

“I’ll ‘easy and gently’ you.” You continued to be unhappy with his instance of treating you with such tender care.  You still were not used to dating a decent human being, unsure if you even deserved it.  If he knew how  you really were, maybe he’d throw you away, like all the other partners you had had over the years.

Sy, oblivious of your inner conflict, got you settled into the passenger seat and buckled you in.  “All set, baby?” 

You only nodded, still applying pressure to your cut palm.  He gave you a soft smile and carefully closed your door.  Took him all of two seconds before he was in the driver's seat and starting the engine.  “Let’s get you patched up.”

The drive to the local hospital was over within 20 minutes and was accomplished in silence.  You tried to ignore the new throb in your palm that appeared.  Sy had stopped you once from peeling back the towel by laying his hand over yours.  “You don't wanna do that.”

“I wanna see.”

“No you don’t.  Firstly it'll start bleeding again once you release the pressure,” he used his Captain voice, you knew his military training had kicked in.  “Secondly, I don't need you passing out again when you see it.”

You all but huffed at him.  “I am NOT afraid of blood.”

“You may not be, but you aren't gonna like the looks of that.”

You relented and gave a dramatic sigh.  “Aye, aye, Captain,” you said dryly.

Once you arrived at the hospital, and got through the headache of checking in, the two of you settled in the waiting room. Sy took your injured hand and put it on his thigh, taking over putting pressure on the injury.  You sat in further silence until a nurse called your name, less than 30 minutes later.  Sy kissed your temple and let you take your own hand back.  You both stand and head for the nurse who eyes you 6’4” shadow with suspicion.   “Just them,” the nurse states in a no nonsense voice.

“It's ok,” you reassure her.  “He’s with me.”

“Is he your emergency contact and/or spouse?” she asks you, and your stomach dropped at the thought of going in without Sy.  

“No,” you say in a small voice. 

“But ma’am-”

“Do not,” she cut Sy off.  “Policy is policy.  I don't make it,” she sternly stated.

“You are just the enforcer,” Sy finished for her in a very knowing voice.  

“You got it,” she beamed at him. “Have a seat.  They'll be out as soon as they’re done.”

You gave him a soft smile over your shoulder and mouthed ‘Sorry.’  He kissed your forehead.  “You’re in good hands,” he tried to sound calm for you.  You nodded and followed the scrubbed nurse into the ER.  The door closed behind you with a soft click, signaling it locked.  The nurse led you to a room, flipping the plastic flags over the door to whatever she needs to as you step in.  

“Have a seat on the bed,” she said in a softer tone than she had with Sy.  As she halfway pulled the curtain closed, you settled with your back on the upright position of the gurney.  She clicked at the computer near the bed.  “Laceration on your non-dominant palm.  How did it happen?” she asked, nodding to your hand as she reached for gloves from the rack on the wall. 

“Slipped while cooking dinner,” you offered, leaving out the part where you passed out.  

She eyed you before placing a hand on your wrist.  “Let me take a look.”  

You relinquished the towel which you now realize had a significant amount of blood on it. “Oh geez, I hope he can get that out.”

The nurse’s eyes flit back to your face.  “Who is he?” she conversationally asked.  

“My boyfriend,” you said almost shyly.  This thing between you was still new and fresh, only a few months old.  You were still getting used to using the title for Sy.  

“You live together?” she asked as she put the makeshift bandage back down.  “Hold that again please.”   

You do as you are told.  “No, only been together a few months.” you affirmed.  

She nodded and stripped the gloves from her hands, dropping them into the biohazard trash before turning back to the computer “You are gonna need stitches,” she told you, “but first the doc has to come see you to confirm.”

“Yeah kinda figured that was why my army boyfriend brought me in.  If he coulda handled it himself we wouldn't be here,”  you guessed.  

The nurse pulled a wheelie stool over and sat down near your bedside and looked at you compassionately but no nonsense.  “He the reason you are here?” she asked.  

“Well yeah, he insisted-” 

She shook her head, interrupting you.  “No sweety,” she tried again.  Her name tag/badge read Joy you noticed.  “Are you safe with him?”

Your eyes widened at her meaning. “Yes!” you stumbled over the word, surprised someone would think you are not safe with Sy.  “Absolutely,” you insisted.  “He’d never hurt anyone he cared about much less me,” you defended him further.  

“You have to know how this looks,” the nurse stated.  And you finally put all the pieces together.  “Especially with him being active duty,” she pointed out.  You had heard the rumors that military men were statistically more likely to be the aggressor in domestic violence situations. 

“Not him,” you asserted, trying to think of another way to convince her she had it all wrong.  

Instead she reached out and squeezed your knee.  “It's ok.  I have to ask.  Just a couple more questions and then I'll go get the doctor.”  

You relaxed into the mattress.  “Okay.”

“Do you want your boyfriend back here with you?  I can continue to tell him its policy to keep him out in the waiting room.”

You almost started panicking again at the thoughts that anyone would think anything but the best of Sy.  “No, I want him here please, if I can.”

“Of course you can, especially if he will help you stay calm.” She took a deep breath, holding it for a beat and then releasing it, which you mirrored.  “Will his presence keep you at ease?” Her eyes stared at yours, watching your reaction closely.  

You took another deep breath and nodded.  “Yes please.”  

“Ok sweetie.  If you change your mind, tell me or the doctor you’d like to see ‘Dr. Strong’ and we will get security to remove him from here, okay?”

“I won’t need that,” you assured her.,  “But I’m glad you have that in place for other people to use.  “

She gave you a sad smile. “Unfortunately it's all too common of a situation for us.”  She put her hand on the door handle.  “What’s the boyfriend’s last name?”   

You gave it to her and she nodded.  “I'll go get him now and the Doctor will be with you as soon as he can.”

“Thank you.”

And she was gone.

And you were left alone with your thoughts for a few minutes.  You had never thought so much of as an ill thought about Sy outside of  how obnoxious his snoring was when he’s been drinking and now you felt like you hit the jackpot with Sy.  But also, it felt a bit early to be proclaiming declarations of love.  Sy didn’t seem like the type of man who would ever harm his partner but you had been fooled into thinking the best of others in your past and were proven ---

The door opened and saved you from continuing that thought.  Sy’s face appeared around the curtain with a concerned look as Nurse Joy peeked around him.  “Will be a bit til the doctor will be with you.  Keep holding that towel.”

Sy rounded the bed and sat on the stool the nurse abandoned.  “Thanks,” you said.  “For everything.”

“You are welcome.  Just doing my job.”

And she was gone again, the door closing behind her. “New friend?” Sy asked after that exchange.  

“Something like that,” you affirmed.  

“What’s the verdict?” he nodded towards your hand.  

“Needs stitches,” you stated nonchalantly.  

“And the passing out?” he prompted. 

 You hesitated.  “Oh, ummmm,”   

“You didn't mention that?” he surmised.

“No.”

“Of course not,” he sighed.

You stopped looking at your hands in your lap and flashed your eyes to him.  “What’s that mean?”

Sy just shook his head and laid his hand on your knees closest to him.  “I’ve just noticed you aren't very good at taking care of yourself is all.”  

You get defensive immediately, though this isn't the first time you have heard that from someone else who cared about you.  “I do just fine with that,” you asserted.   

“Then why didn't you mention that to the nurse?”

“Because that's not a big deal,” you attested. “Not as much as bleeding to death.”  You raised your injured hand to illustrate.  “I’m sorry about your towel.”

“I don't give one goddamn about a kitchen towel,” he stated but is interrupted by a knock on the door, drawing both of your attention.  Nurse Joy walked around the curtain with a man in a white coat.  

“Hello here’s Dr. Brock.” 

Sy’s hand squeezed your knee. 

“How are you today?” Dr. Brock asked.  

“Fine outside of trying to filet my palm.  Wait,” you suddenly say.  “I only remember nicking my finger.  When did I slice my palm?” you looked at Sy, and felt the attention of the medical personnel in the room shift to look at him as well.  

“You grabbed for the counter as you passed out,” he simply stated.  

“There was no mention of passing out,” Joy stated, and you realize you had just ratted yourself out.  

“Did you hit your head?” the doctor asked, springing into action to examine your eyes.  

“I don't think so,” you sounded unsure. 

“No they didn’t,” Sy joined the conversation. “I caught them on the way down.”  

Doctor turned half his attention to the attentive boyfriend beside you as he applied gentle pressure around your head.  “Were they out cold?”

“Yes”

“For how long?”  

“At least 3 minutes but it felt like a lifetime,” Sy disclosed.  

Doctor Brock nodded as Joy typed on the computer.  “Let’s get them a CT scan, a CBC panel to start,” he spoke to the nurse who clicked the mouse.  “And a stitch kit for their hand.”  He gave that the briefest of looks and a nod.  “Looks like the bleeding has stopped.  We can take care of that while we wait for radiation to come get them.”

He turned back to you.  “Afraid we are going to keep you from dinner for a bit longer,” he told you.

“It's ok,” you whispered. 

It took another hour, but you found yourself stitched , bandaged, scanned and short a few vials of blood.  You and Sy sat in the room, talking about which fast food to grab on your way back to his place when Dr. Brock and your new favorite nurse returned.  “We have the results from your scan and your blood work,” he told you as he sat down in front of the computer.  Sy’s hand gently squeezed your uninjured hand while the doctor logged in and pulled up your chart.  “Ok,” he paused as he read.  “Your CT scan came back normal.  Nothing unusual in your brain.”

“That's good.”

He nodded as he continued to look at his results.  “There’s a few things in your blood work I’d like to talk to you about.  Your glucose was concerningly down.” 

 “We were in the process of making dinner,” Sy tried.  

“No it was more than just one missed meal,” the doctor told him.

You avoid looking at Sy out of guilt.  ”I may have missed a few meals today.”

“There's only three to miss,” Sy sounded upset, and your stomach flipped.  “How many did you miss?”

“All of them...?” you stated uncertain, again. 

“And the past few days?” the doctor asked.  

You shrugged and looked sheepishly at him.  “A few...”

“Your blood work says more than ‘a few’,” he said sternly but gently.  “And your urinalysis says you are severely dehydrated.” He looked at you.  “How much water do you have every day?”

“Water?” you lamely asked 

“Yes, plain water.  Maybe with some lemon or bubbles in it, but just water?”

“Not much.  I’m more of a coffee kind of girl,” you tried to tell him, aiming for a joke but it falling flat on your audience.

“I’m going to need you to up your intake of water by a lot.”

“For how long?”

“For always,” he looked at you.  “Human bodies need water to survive.” he glanced quickly at the screen before turning back to you.  “How has your depression and anxiety been lately?”  

Well shit.  You looked guiltily at Sy again before answering.  “It's been better.”

“On a scale of 1-5,  l one being the lowest you’ve been and 5 being the best feeling ever, where have you been lately?

Another sideways glance at Sy before answering.  “A 0.5?”

“I see,” the doctor said and typed a few things.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sy asked, sounding more than a little hurt.

The shrug you give him does nothing to remove the look from his face.  

“What can I do for them, Doc?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your face.

You opened your mouth to protest but Dr. Brock beat you to it. “That’s up to them as to what they need. But open communication is a good start.”  That was directed at you.  “And reassuring them they are worth taking care of themselves.”  That was directed at Sy.

“I can handle that,” your boyfriend stated.  

“Glad to hear it.  Nurse Joy will get you your instructions and get you checked out.  You can have your GP pull the stitches in 14 days.  And go over your mental health needs with them too, please.”

You just nodded.  

“Take care of each other.”  And he was gone out the door.  

The ride home was as silent as the ride to the ER but for different reasons.  You felt the anger rolling off Sy.  You were ashamed at having your mental health issues revealed to him in such a manner.  This relationship was still too new and now you were afraid he was going to ditch you and run for the hills.

“You can just drop me at my car in your driveway and I’ll head home,” you surmised you had fully ruined your date night if not your whole relationship.

“What?” Sy sounded confused.  “No.” He pulled his eyes from the road for a second to look at you.  If you weren't wrong, he looked hurt again.  “We are grabbing dinner and then we are gonna talk about what is going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

“Look if you wanna break up with me-”

“What kind of assholes have you dated, sweetheart?” he asked angrily and your mouth audibly snapped shut followed by a soft sniffle.  He DID think you were an idiot and he was going to ditch you tonight.  You knew it.  Trouble was he held you hostage until he returned you to your car.  And the sound of your next sniffle, Sy hit his blinker and pulled the truck into the first parking lot on his right,parking his truck across 4 spots before turning in his seat to look at you, his hand landing on your forearm. “Please talk to me,” he softly said.  “Whatever it is, I'm here.”

“You hate me,” you asserted.   “I’m a horrible person.  And now you know the truth about me.”

Sy’s hand flew up to the ceiling of the truck and flipped the light on and watched you wiped at your tears.  “Did I say any of that?” he asked. “Ever.”  

You shook your head.  “No but you probably are thinking about it now that you know.”

“Know what? That you have a mental illness that makes your life hard to navigate?”

“Yeah.” you sniffled. 

“For fuck’s sake, darlin’, do you know how many of my men have mental illnesses, both diagnosed and not?  And I trust them literally with my life,” Sy tried again, agitation just on the edge of his voice.  He took a breath and tried another time.  “Sweetness, whatever you have going on , I ain't lying when I tell you I’m here for you, for all of it.:”

“But-”

“No buts, gorgeous, you aren't getting rid of me that easily,” he insisted, giving you a small smile, which you did not return.  “Unless you want me to go.  I hope you don't.  You seemed like you were enjoying our evening tonight before your swan dive.” You smiled at that.  “But if you want out, let's talk about that and I’ll try to convince you to stay so I can fix whatever it is you don't like but I do not want out.  I make that call, not you,” he asserted gently.  

You sat in stunned silence for a moment.  All your standard cookie cutter responses to try to convince someone you were a horrible person died on your tongue, leaving you with nothing to say.  

At another beat of silence, Sy grabbed his phone from the center console.  “Do you want pizza or tacos for dinner?”

~~~~~~~~~

Once you were safely at his house with your dinner, Sy left you at the kitchen table as he took an exuberant Aika outside to potty and chase a ball around for a few minutes.  By the time he returned, you had set the table and were in the process of cleaning up the mess you had left on his floor, on his counter, your blood mixed with food that had been left out too long.  

Sy dramatically sighed when he found you trying to one handedly clean everything up.  “Will you stop before you hurt yourself further?”  You looked at him sheepishly.  “But thank you,” he tried instead.  “Thank you for setting the table.”  He took your good hand and escorted you to the table set with two plates, two glasses of water and the only candle you could find in his house and you were fairly certain it was a gift from his mom or sister.  He pulled your chair out for you and you rolled your eyes as you sat down, but you sat down.  “Good baby,” he mumbled into the crown of your head.  “One slice or two?” he asked, chivalrously opening the box for you to see the options available as if you weren’t in the truck when he ordered your usual pizza.  

“You are a dork,” you informed him. 

“Yes, but I am your dork,” he told you, pulling two pieces to put on your plate.  “Since you didn’t eat at all today, you get two.  And you have to eat them all, even the crusts.  And drink all your water too,” he informed you. 

You made a face at him but nodded, agreeing to those terms.  “Okay, Daddy,” you teasingly mutter as you pull a stringy bit of cheese and pop it in your mouth.  

Sy growled low in his throat, a noise you only heard when you did something he liked in the bedroom and you felt your belly heat at finding a new kind of his and one you didn't object to.  You smirked at him as he sat down, your focus now on his darkening eyes. “You wanna play with Daddy, little one?” he menacingly asked you.  You nodded enthusiastically, your ravenous hunger shifting from the pizza to the man in front of you.  

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, Daddy.” you started to rise from the table to move towards him.  

“Sit your pretty ass down,” he commanded without raising his voice.  You felt yourself grow hotter at his tone, immediately and unthinkingly settling back into your spot.  “You will eat everything on your plate, or you will not leave this table, am I clear?”   Normally you would balk at such a statement but now you just nodded.   “I need words, little one.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good baby,” he commended.  “You will also drink everything in your glass, do you understand?”  You lost focus, you wondered if this is the tone he took with his men and if so did any of them get turned on as you were right now.  “Hello, pretty baby?” Sy’s voice broke through your wandering thoughts.  

“Yes Daddy, I mean Sir.  I mean Daddy,” you stuttered, unsure what title to use, both seeming fitting at this moment. 

“I see that attention is a problem for you.  So let me try a different approach,” he asserted.  “If you have everything on your plate, drink all the water I give you and take your daily meds if you haven't yet,” he raised a questioning eyebrow at you, knowing you usually packed your medications with you when you came over for date night.  “You can cum tonight.  If you don’t do those things, all you’ll get to do is help me cum, am I clear?”

You swallowed loudly, knowing he was not at all joking in her terms.  “Yes, Daddy.”  And you took a big bite of cooling pizza.

“Good baby.”

General Tag List: @ellethespaceunicorn @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212,

@avengersfan25, @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 , @cynic-spirit , @rosecentury

HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69,

@sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay

Syverson tag list: @mrsevans90 @wunder-blunder

Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) any of them. AND Just cuz I think you'll be interested in seeing it I am gonna tag @deandoesthingstome

[grannyandgrandpascreations]

You Bet Your Sweet Dupa I'm Polish Flou Sack Kitchen Dish Towel

Add a touch of Polish heritage to your kitchen with this traditional You Bet Your Sweet Dupa I’m Polish Flour Sack Kitchen Dish Towel. This traditional white cotton Polish flour sack tea towel belongs in every Polish kitchen! Perfect Polish gift!

Flour sack dish towels are called “flour sack” because they are modeled after the thin cotton bags that flour and grain used to be packed in, which were re-used as towels. The thin cotton yarn and the looser weave make for a towel that’s extra absorbent. You can even air dry your salad greens; the super absorbent nature of flour sack towels makes them great for drying delicate greens. Also, flour sack towels are lint free! Which means no more fuzzies on your wine glasses when you wipe them dry!

Flour sack towels are also softer and significantly larger than a standard kitchen towel….and more towel is always a good thing! You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations.

Each flour sack kitchen towel measures 28 in. x 29 inches (Product dimensions L x W x H – 28 x 29 x 29 inches). They are 100% cotton, durable and absorbent. These are flat woven towels; they are perfect for cooking or baking and can safely be used around food such as covering dough for rising or as a food strainer. These towels also double as a kind of strainer or cheese cloth; the fine weave means you can strain sauces and broths through a flour sack towel to clarify them. Flour sack kitchen towels are sturdy, highly absorbent, dry quickly, and are designed to stand up to most any cleaning job. The towels easily withstand frequent washings and are made for repeated daily use.

The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low. Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures. Thank you for visiting Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations, we truly appreciate your support of small businesses. We also personalize our products, please reach out to us with any personalizing any of our products, additional fee's may apply.

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com to view more products.

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#grannygrandpascustomcreations

You Bet Your Sweet Dupa I’m Polish Kitchen Towel. A perfect unique gift for someone who is Polish.

Flour sack dish towels are called “flour sack” because they are modeled after the thin cotton bags that flour and grain used to be packed in, which were re-used as towels. The thin cotton yarn and the looser weave make for a towel that’s extra absorbent. You can even air dry your salad greens; the super absorbent nature of flour sack towels makes them great for drying delicate greens. Also, flour sack towels are lint free! Which means no more fuzzies on your wine glasses when you wipe them dry!

Flour sack towels are also softer and significantly larger than a standard kitchen towel….and more towel is always a good thing! You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations.

Each flour sack kitchen towel measures 28 in. x 29 inches (Product dimensions L x W x H – 28 x 29 x 29 inches). They are 100% cotton, durable and absorbent. These are flat woven towels; they are perfect for cooking or baking and can safely be used around food such as covering dough for rising or as a food strainer. These towels also double as a kind of strainer or cheese cloth; the fine weave means you can strain sauces and broths through a flour sack towel to clarify them. Flour sack kitchen towels are sturdy, highly absorbent, dry quickly, and are designed to stand up to most any cleaning job. The towels easily withstand frequent washings and are made for repeated daily use.

The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low. Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

[celesse]

Two new flour sack tea towels are now available in my shop! 🌻🦊💖🐴🍎

Available here!

[thatdruidgal]

11.01 low budget options

Practicing Witchcraft on a Budget

Here are my favorite ways to practice on a budget!

Quartz is your best friend

Quartz can be programmed with just about any intention and is so versatile. It can be used for protection, absorption, and can boost really any spell because its energy mimics what is around it. Seriously so underrated, and thankfully is usually pretty cheap.

Need balance? Get amethyst

Amethyst is a basic stone that is a necessity. It can be used for sleep, divination, wisdom, protection, love. It, like quartz, is very versatile.

If you only ever get two stones in your practice, get quartz and amethyst.

When in doubt, use salt

Need to cleanse something and want something stronger than quartz? Don’t spend your money on a selenite wand. Salt is perfect (and it’s what selenite is made out of)!

Use the sun and moon energies

Sun energy is for, well, energy, revitalization, cleansing, and protection. Moon energy can be used for a lot, mostly divination, balance, and healing.

Capture their energy in some water in a recycled jar (rain water is great, but any water can do!) and use it in your spells!

Get candles from the dollar store or clearance section

Candles are great, but you don’t need to go expensive. Just pick a color of candle that aligns with your intentions from the dollar store or clearance section and use that!

Make tools out of simple things

Do you really need a fancy altar cloth? No. Do you need an expensive wand and athame? Nope. Do you need those cool-looking bottles for all of your dried herbs? Definitely not!

Reuse as much as you can — use old spaghetti jars for storing water and herbs, use a flour sack towel or washcloth for your altar, and find things around the house to get the job done.

Remember, less is more

Big companies try to sell this maximalist lifestyle with the practice of witchcraft for their benefit only. Try to only focus on buying what you really really want/need, and try to repurpose, thrift, or support small businesses to get it.

Farewell and good tides!

Branwen

Like what you see? Consider supporting me! ko-fi.com/thatdruidgal

[jamietxrtt]

augusnippets day 8-- found family

Roy eyed the counter in the decadent lobby of the posh, members-only swimming pool he was standing in.

He'd signed up for this place years ago, as a way to still get exercise in after retirement, even with his fucked knee. Sooner or later, he was cajoled into bringing Phoebe along, and now it was a semi-regular occurrence for the whole little Kent clan to have their monthly pool days.

"Kent," he grunted to the receptionist. Always made him feel like a twat, standing in the gilded lobby and throwing his name around to get special treatment-- even if that's how membership clubs always worked, it still felt unnatural to him to do it.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Kent.” The secretary lady’s eyes skimmed the membership list. “And is it just you today, or…?”

“No, no." Roy scratched at his eyebrow. "My brother and sister are coming. They're getting shit from the car. Ah, and my niece. Four total.”

"Alright, I can just--" The receptionist smiled. "Oh, that must be them, then?"

Right on cue, a whirlwind of movement and noise burst through the lobby doors. Phoebe's bright little voice reached Roy first, chattering away as always, and then his sister Sarah's voice responding. When he turned, he saw Jamie stuck with the towel bag, spinning a pair of goggles in his off hand.

It wasn't long until they were settled-- Sarah and Roy taking up their usual residency sunbathing (a rare day of English sun, how about that) at the poolside while Jamie entertained Phoebe in the water. Right now, Jamie had Phoebe in a bridal carry, dunking her head underwater while she giggled incessantly.

Sometimes Roy envied it, the way Jamie was still young and strong enough to toss Phoebe around like a sack of flour, sending her cannonballing into the water with shrieks of delight.

Sarah caught the look on his face. "At least they're having fun," she said, eyeing Roy over her sunglasses. "You could join them, you know."

Roy grunted a response.

"Shit-- sunscreen," Sarah said suddenly, sitting up and grabbing for her bag. "Phoebe! Over here for one moment!"

Both Jamie and Phoebe's heads snapped over simultaneously at the call, like a dog hearing a food bell. Jamie ceased his game of dunk-or-dunk, instead carrying Phoebe over to the pool ledge, easily depositing her little body on land. "On you get, then!"

“Thank you, Uncle Jamie!” She peeped, scrambling off to go see her mum.

Roy pulled himself up off the pool chair, shaking his head as he approached Jamie's bobbing head. “I can’t believe you stole my title of favorite uncle. Do you always have to take everything of mine, Tartt?”

Jamie gave him a crooked grin, easily stepping back a bit to let Roy sit on the pool ledge. “Not my fault I’m the younger, better you,” he teased, sticking his tongue out.

“Oh, fuck off.” Roy kicked his shoulder, sending him splashing underwater.

"You fuck off!" Jamie splashed him back.

Before Roy knew it, Jamie had managed to pull him into the pool, and then Phoebe was back, insisting on riding piggyback on Roy's back, and then Sarah was filming on her phone as Jamie and Phoebe tried their best underwater handstands, and Roy even got a chance to toss Phoebe around a bit-- even if she did squirm and say, "Jamie is better at this," after he couldn't achieve her desired maximum height.

Later, while Roy and Jamie were drying off as Sarah took her turn keeping Phoebe busy, Jamie nudged Roy's knee with his own. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I heard what you said earlier." Jamie wrapped the towel a little tighter around his shoulders. "To the lady at the desk."

Roy gave him a look. "What did I say?"

"You said, 'My brother and sister are coming.'" He stared at Roy expectantly, like that was supposed to mean something.

Roy just blinked at him.

"You called me your brother." There was something unreadable in Jamie's expression, something vulnerable that just bordered on trembling his lower lip.

"Oh." Roy straightened. "I-- Well, sorry, I thought--"

"No! No." And then his wavering vulnerability split wide open, into a broad smile that only seemed a little bit forced. "It was good. I just-- I wanted to say-- you know. If you wanted to-- you know. Say I'm your brother... like. Other times, too. That'd be. Cool. You know."

Roy found a smile of his own tugging on his lips back. "Okay," he said. And then, just to make fun of Jamie: "You know."

"Shut up!" Now it was Jamie's turn to take a shove at Roy's shoulder. "I know I'm talking in circles-- t's a weird thing to talk about, okay?"

"I know," Roy said. He turned to the towel back, digging for a pair of goggles, if only to give him an excuse to not have to look Jamie in the eye while he cleared his throat and spoke again.

"You are. Just in case you're wondering. You are."

There as a moment before Jamie responded. "I am what?"

"My brother."