#stoney brown

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Crazy For You - Stoney 'Stanley' Brown X GN Reader

Title: Crazy For You

Stoney 'Stanley' Brown X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother, Dave (Mentioned), Link (Mentioned), Mrs. Freadrick (OC) (Mentioned), Robyn (Mentioned)

Requested By: @zachizthegoat!

WC: 3,478

Warnings: Reader has a mother, flirting, banter, nicknames, prom, Reader's attire is not described (wear whatever you want), very small bit of suggestiveness, Reader is given flowers, brief mention of spiked punch, perfectly choreographed dance, based off the song; Crazy For You by Madonna, and fluff

Stoney let out a sigh, clearing his throat as he waited in the hall, standing by his locker. He had asked you in math class to meet him at his locker a few minutes before lunch let out. And now, Stoney normally wasn't normally a nervous person, he was usually a pretty confident, wacky guy. But, right now he was fidgeting with his fingers and turning his head at every little noise in hopes to see you walking down the hall with that perfect smile of yours. You had been friends with him and Dave since freshman year, and ever since meeting you, Stoney was hooked; line and sinker.

Stoney was pretty obvious that he was interested in you, and you seemed to have noticed. You and Stoney would end up flirting every time you guys hung out; which would also always annoy Dave. And yet, nothing really came out of it. But Stoney really liked you, more than anyone else, really. He was crazy for you, if you wanted, he’d walk all the way to the ‘Food 7 Mart’, just to buy you a burrito; and split it fifty-fifty with you.

But, seriously, you were perfect. He loved the way your hair framed your face, the way your eyes lit up when you told him about the newest movie you saw, and how you’d bite your lip when concentrating on something. And you understood him and his weird sayings, which was awesome. You were so understanding and sweet. You were always there for him if he needed someone to talk to or just hang out with, and you never judged him; as most people at the school and in the small town did the opposite of.

Stoney, though, was so stuck in his head, thinking about you, that he didn't even hear you come up and stand beside him. His eyes stared down at the floor tiles, thinking about the time you shared a roll of SweetTarts with him, when he finally recognized your beat-up black Converse next to his, only then did he snap his head up to meet your gaze with his; his curls bouncing as he did so.

You gave him your stunning smile, one hand holding the strap of your black, canvas backpack as you looked at him expectedly, "So..." You began, tilting your head slightly to the left, "You told me you needed to tell me something." Your voice sounded hopeful, yet curious as Stoney gave you a sheepish smile. “And you sounded pretty… I don’t know, anxious…” You added, tilting your head slightly. This whole scenario surprised you slightly, for all the years you've known Stoney, you'd never seen him so nervous. He was always the self-assured one of your tiny friend group; the voice of reason. Seeing him fumble a bit was something that took you aback.  

"Well, I actually have a question for you, babe." He corrected, clearing his throat; the little nickname he had for you, which he gave to you back in freshman year, always made you smile widen ever-so-slightly and your cheeks burn. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go to Prom with me? And maybe after we can swing by and wheeze the jui-ce." He asked nonchalantly, a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders as he said the last part; almost as if he was having any other conversation. He let a grin then spread across his face, which did help calm his nerves slightly.

You grinned back at Stoney and you couldn't help but let out a little giggle, "I'd love to go to Prom with you, Stoney." You replied, your stomach filling up with butterflies as you mentally cheered; you had been hoping Stoney would ask you. "And I'd love to wheeze the juice with you as well." You teased, giggling again when the tips of Stoney's ears turned a deep shade of pink. He tried once more to just brush it all off and act like he wasn't that affected by your angelic laughter, but he was; he always was.

"Well, I can pick you up at seven,” He finally spoke, his hand coming up to lightly scratch at his cheek, feeling the room heat up to an almost scorching degree; was the school hot, or was it just you? "We'd have to walk to the school, my scooter is broken," He then brought up, feeling bad but you only shook your head lightly, raising both your hands to grasp the lapels of his blue denim jacket, pressing the fabric down and smoothing it over.

"Don't worry your cute curly head about that," You spoke softly, the smile still on your face as you looked up into his honey-brown eyes from the colorful patterns that lay on the fabric; your hands resting on his shoulders, "Just relax, we’ll just have more time to hang out then." You reassured, squeezing his shoulders gently before letting go of him. “Plus, we can get some steps in.” You joked, as Stoney gave you his trademark smile.

Nodding, his curls bounced with him, "See you Saturday, babe."

You just let out a small huff, your eyes narrowed playfully as you tugged on the hanging purple fabric of the bandana wrapped around his temple, "See you Saturday, Stone." You answered back before passing him and walking away.

Watching as you walked down the hall, Stoney couldn't stop his grin from growing, and once you turned the corner and were out of sight, Stoney let out a small cheer. Doing a small victory dance before he went in search of Dave for the last five minutes of lunch to tell him the good news.

~~~

You brushed down your attire, you turned every which way as you looked into the mirror. It was nice, ignoring the anxiety, you felt very confident in it. Fixing your hair again and double-checking that you had everything you could possibly need, you heard a knock on your open bedroom door. You looked up at the mirror, your hands fidgeting with the soft fabric of your clothing as your eyes met your mother's. She stared at you, with a small smile on her face, making you feel a little bit better.

"You look wonderful, honey," She softly spoke as you turned round to face her, "You chose well." She complimented, reaching forward and taking hold of your hands gently, stroking them with the pads of her thumbs. The gentle gesture helped calm your nerves greatly.

You smiled and nodded your head, "Thank you, Mom." You answered, taking your hands out of her and clasping your hands together before you.

Your mother nodded before she raised an eyebrow, a small grin on her face, "You going with that Stanley kid?"

You felt your face heat up at her question as you nodded, "Yeah, Stoney asked me Friday," You answered once more, and your mother nodded. She knew the young man ever since you became friends with him and David, you wouldn't stop talking about him some days. She knew how much you cared about him. Her eyes softened, watching as you stood there with a proud smile on your face. Your excitement radiates through the air around you.

"Well," She let out a sigh, "I'm happy for you two. He knows to bring you back at ten, right?" She asked and you nodded, the anxiety you were once feeling dissipating to a point that you were able to speak without feeling your words trip on the tip of your tongue. "Alright, then," She paused, thinking over what she wanted to say next, "Be safe on the way home, yeah?" Her voice came out almost teasing and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, people also drive at night. I don’t want you to get run over - and no funny business.” She added, shaking a finger at you half-jokingly.

"I’ll be fine, Mom," You said bashfully, "And we’re just friends.”

Your mother just stared at you, giving you an all-knowing look, "Really? Friends don't ask each other to Prom." She spoke and you just let out a small chuckle.

"Actually, they do, Mom," You corrected, only to see that she was just playing with you, making you let out a sigh of your own, "He'll be here soon, I should-"

The sound of the doorbell interrupted you, and your mother couldn't help but smile before pulling you into a hug. "I'll see you soon. You two have fun."

You nodded before you headed down the stairs and to the door. Letting out a shaky breath, you felt your nerves bubble as you reached out for the doorknob. Taking another deep breath, you opened the door and saw Stoney waiting for you at the door. You were sure your heart skipped several beats seeing him. He looked like his perfect usual self, dressed in flared pants, a fancy button-up over a white shirt, and a purple scarf. You felt a bit overdressed, but that didn't seem to matter to Stoney cause once he saw you, his jaw dropped. You just smiled, feeling your cheeks warm up as Stoney ran his gaze up and down your form.

"Woah," He breathed out quietly and you chuckled, "You look gorgeous, babe." He spoke sincerely and you blushed at his compliment, you almost thought he'd wolf howl at you like he did most of the time at school but tonight seemed different.

"You look great too, Stone." You answered, noticing that Stoney had a hand behind his back. Raising an eyebrow, you spoke again, “You hidin’ something, Stone?” You asked, watching as his eyes lit up in realization and he brought his arm out to reveal the small bouquet of what looked like wildflowers.

“Oh! These are for you,” He answered, offering the small bouquet out to you as you couldn’t help but let your smile widen. 

You took the flowers in your hands, pretending not to have noticed when your fingers brushed against his, “These are beautiful, Stoney.” Your smile then turned into a small smirk as you gave Stoney a look, “Did you get these from Mrs. Freadrick's yard?” You asked, referring to the sweet old lady who lived just down the road from Stoney's house.

Stoney let go of the breath he'd been holding, smiling sheepishly as he nodded, "Uh, yeah."

You only shook your head, letting out a small laugh, “Well, thank you nonetheless, Stone.” Stoney gave you a toothy smile, which made your heart race as you let out a sigh. “I’ll quickly put these in some water.” You added, rushing inside to find a vase. Stoney looked around the entrance of the home, taking note of the pictures hung in nice frames around the room. He hummed some sort of tune as he looked around, his eyes then landing on you as you exited the kitchen. “Alright, let’s head out. Don’t want to miss any of the good songs.” You joked, grabbing your small bag from the table near the door.

“Alright! Party time!” Stoney cheered, making you laugh as you headed back to the door with him. Turning at the door, Stoney raised a hand to the side of his mouth, “Have a good night, Mrs. L/N!” He called out to your mom, making you grab him arm and pull him out of the house.

Closing the front door behind the two of you as you stepped out. “You’re killing me, Stoney.” You looked up at him with a smile, as Stoney offered you his arm and you took it, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Stoney only looked down at you, wiggling his eyebrows, “Softly, I hope.”

~~~

The beginning of the walk was nice, quiet, and peaceful; you really enjoyed it. "I hope you're not cold," Stoney then spoke up, gaining your attention. "I'd offer my shirt," He gestured to the button-up with his free hand, looking down at you to gauge your reaction only for you to shake your head.

"I'm good, but thank you, Stoney." You replied, glancing up at him with a smile.

Stoney couldn't help but smile back, "If you say so, babe. Just know the offer is always on the table, ahh-wooooooo!" Okay, there was the Stoney you knew and loved. You couldn't stop the laughter bubbling inside of you, as you tried to stifle it, which resulted in Stoney chuckling along as well, his smile widening before he spoke up once more, "Do you think they'll have the four basic food groups?" He asked, and you shrugged your shoulders.

"Maybe, I don't think they'll have burritos or Milk Duds there though," You commented and Stoney let out a hum, nodding his head slowly, "But they'll probably have punch," You suggested, looking up at Stoney who was staring at you, "What?" You questioned, tilting your head slightly to the side as you waited for his answer.

Stoney shook his head slightly, tsking, "That's not part of the four basic food groups, babe," He answered before throwing a hand in the air abruptly, "But! We're going to wheeze the jiu-ce after this fiasco, so I can reteach you then." He trailed off, right as you got to the school.

~~~

Though the gym was dark, colorful lights made it possible to see as the music from the band played loud enough for it to fill your ears. You held onto Stoney, tightening your hold on his arm as you entered, feeling anxious once more. But, Stoney was quick to distract you, steering you right over to the hopefully not spiked punch bowl. As you took sips of your punch, your eyes landed on Dave, Link, and Robyn, already dancing on the dance floor. You watched Link boogie down and turned to Stoney, watching as he bobbed his head to the beat and shimmied a bit in his spot; his eyes narrowed in on the dancefloor. 

You knew he wanted to go over there, have a good time and you didn't want to stop him. Finishing your drink, you began to feel more and more comfortable before turning back to Stoney. "Hey, you can go and dance. I'll be alright here." You spoke, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. 

Stoney looked at you, eyebrows raised as he glanced over to the dance floor and back at you, uncertainly, "Are you sure, babe? Don't want to leave you hanging."

Your brows furrowed as you shook your head, "Don't worry about it. Go and have some fun, you deserve it. And besides," You added when you noticed Stoney's worried expression, raising your hand to let your fingers gently brush his cheek, brushing back some curls, "You can save the slow dance for me." You teased, causing Stoney to chuckle lightly, and you found yourself smiling, glad you had put a small bit of levity back into things.

"Thanks," Stoney muttered as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment, "See ya later, ba-be." He trailed off, almost song-like before he then slid into the dance circle, masterfully joining Link in his dance.

You watched with a fond smile, unable to take your eyes off him as he helped Dave and Link lead the dance mob. You felt your heartbeat increase, your breathing a little irregular, as you watched him sway with the crowd, dancing with ease as if he belonged there. You felt your stomach grow tight, and your mouth growing dry as your gaze lingered on his strong, lean build. Your eyes followed every move he made as he moved gracefully across the floor. Yeah, you were definitely in love with Stoney. It was impossible not to be.

Before you knew it, the band finished their song, and another fun song came on. Robyn noticed you on the sidelines and dragged you in, swinging hers and your arms together to the beat. You did your best to let go and have fun, letting the music flow through you. Another three songs followed before finally the slow song echoed throughout the speakers; one that you recognized. Other students and their dates found each other on the dance floor, arms around waists and necks as they swayed. You looked around the gym, unable to spot Stoney at all until you felt someone tap your shoulder. Turning, you almost sighed with relief as Stoney gave you his charming grin, offering out his hand to you.

"I believe I owe you a dance," He spoke and you took his hand without question as you both walked towards the dance floor. His hand fit perfectly in yours and you couldn't help but feel a tingle run down your spine at his warm touch. 

On the dance floor, Stoney slowly placed his hands respectably on your waist, your arms going and wrapping around his neck; following the other couples' movements. As the song continued, Stoney's moves became a lot smoother; it wasn't long before he was leading you in small circles. The song, a favorite of yours, 'Crazy For You' by Madonna played, making you smile lightly, your fingers moving with a mind of their own to twist into Stoney’s curls. You felt Stoney's thumbs gently brushing over your waist, soothing you yet also leaving goosebumps in their place, and allowing yourself to take a small step closer to the weasel.

Looking into his eyes, you realized he was looking straight at you, a light flush dusting his cheeks as his thumb still softly brushed over the fabric of your attire; the warmth of his hands seeping into you. Your mind went blank for a moment, as if you couldn't think properly, trying to focus on the beat of the song and the slight sway Stoney was doing. But all you could think about was him, and how he made you feel safe, cared for… Loved. How he could calm you down and even make you flush just by being near. As you kept on dancing, you couldn’t help but look at the beautiful man in front of you. Your eyes drifted over his face, from the dimples in his cheeks to the small smile that played on his lips.

Stoney felt like he was dreaming, watching you dance with him made his heart race. You were so beautiful that it hurt, you were the definition of perfection; everything else fell away and he couldn't help but admire your beauty. Your smile was infectious, your laugh was melodic, and your eyes held his future. Even your fingers in his hair were hypnotic. There wasn't anything he wanted more than to spend the rest of his life with you by his side.

At the height of the music, even though it was still a slow song, Stoney abruptly twirled you out; surprising you and earning a giggle from you as you spun around. Once you came back to his side, he continued to surprise you as he dipped you low before slowly bringing you back up. You let out a breath, your chest heaving slightly as you stared up at Stoney with a smile. He did the same, reaching out with his hand to brush away a couple of stray hairs before he cupped your cheek.

You leaned into his palm and he leaned toward you, your lips nearly touching before your noses bumped together instead. The contact sent shivers down your spine, making your body temperature rise slightly. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his lips ghost over yours; moving against yours with such care and delicacy that you forgot all of the noise around you, only focused on Stoney and you. When he pulled away, your eyes opened slowly; fluttering. The corner of your lips turned upwards at the emotion in Stoney’s eyes, holding so much admiration and warmth. A flush crept its way onto your face as you continued to gaze into his chocolate-colored eyes; they were shining bright as they bore into your own.

Suddenly, he tilted his head back, letting out another wolf howl, immediately making you laugh; covering your mouth with your hand. Stoney looked back down at you, admiring how happy you looked, eyes closed and a huge smile on your face. The colorful lights hit you gracefully, casting soft shadows and highlighting your features perfectly; painting you in pinks, blues, and yellow. As if in slow-motion, he watched as you opened your eyes, calming down from your laughter; Stoney wondered if this was what love felt like. 

He grinned back at you, giving you a playful wink before he rested his forehead against yours. "Let's get outta here, yeah?" Stoney mumbled, and you gave him a nod in response; not trusting your voice. Taking your hand, waved goodbye to Dave, Link, and Robyn before leaving the gym and the school entirely to get your slushie.

[altrodent]

stoney from encino man fanfic when? please? begging atp ‼️‼️ /nf /lh

Honey Bun

Pairing: Stoney x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Stoney just being (sweetly) honest, teasing

Summary: After finding Link, and making him well known with the ‘modern’ trends, Stoney throws a party. And you, being his guest of honor, get some alone time with him.

A hand slides a note on your desk, as your boring science teacher drones on about evolution. You look up and see Stoney smiling at you, signaling for you to open the note. It reads “Dearest friend-a-rino, I cordially invite you to the sweetest ass party with the one and only Frosty Link! Please say yes, it’s gunna be boring w/o you. Loviest of Loves, Stoney <3” you giggle as you read the note, a little too loudly “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Stoney wraps you in his arms dramatically, gasping “Don’t ask questions like that, you know I don’t share!” He smiles with that stupidly cute face of his, the teacher sighs “…Just- just pay attention please. I don’t need you bringing their grade down Stoney…” he slowly turns back to the board as Stoney sits down, looking at me for an answer on his invitation. He whispers “Sooo? You gonna go or are you gonna make me all sad?” He pouts, you smile back at him “Course I’ll go” He puts his hands on his face gasping in ‘surprise’. “Stoney!” The teacher yells “Sorry, mister…” he giggles. You don’t really notice it, but he still looks at you… in a very loving way.

Stoney’s yard is filled to the brim with streamers, bright lights and a very strong fragrance of booze. You make your way through the heated crowds before a pair of arms hug and lift you up in the air. You jump before they put you down, turning you around to reveal- “I’m so glad you made it! I was so worried you weren’t gonna show” -Stoney. “I wouldn’t miss one of your parties, Stoney!” He smiles giddily, “come with me!” He doesn’t ask, as he takes your hand and leads you to the emptier back yard. “Sorry, I didn’t like them looking at you in there.” You tilt your head in confusion “what?” He rubs his arm “Sorry I just- I just don’t like it when people look at you the way I do.” You smile, still slightly confused “Well, how are they looking at me?” He dances around you, “Wow, they look so attractive, mhm, mhm, I love them, they look so fineee.” He eventually makes his way back to face you again. “That’s how.” He laughs stomping in place “Oh? Really? And you say they look at me the way you do?” He thinks “well, not exactly, because I know they’re not worthy for you… I might be though” he bites his lip before grabbing your hands and making you dance with him. You laugh as he dances with you, he sighs “I just don’t get why you gotta look so attractive all the time, it’s annoying.” He pouts as he twirls you around, his comment brings a slight blush to your face “…you think I’m attractive?” He stops in his tracks “Uh, have you seen yourself? You are just absolutely stunning… god, and see that’s just it. I feel like the hottest people just don’t know they’re hot…” he brushes your hair out of your face, cupping your cheeks after. “…Stoney, you really mean it?”

He nods “Yeah, and while I’m being honest, I’ve super had a little thing for you, but I really couldn’t squeeze it into a conversation before… until now~!” He giggles, as he holds you close to him “Oh, Stoney, that’s super sweet.” He pulls back enough to look at you “Says you, Sugar! You’re sweeter than a honey bun… now I’m hungry.” You giggle as he looks into your eyes “you look tasty though!” He beings to pepper soft kisses onto your face, making you laugh even more, causing him to smile even more “mwah! Just look at you, you tasty thing!” He presses one more kiss on your forehead before leaning into you again “Stoney, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He chuckles softly “always, besides, if I didn’t I wouldn’t get to see that beautiful smile of yours now would I?” He leans back holding his face close to yours “I promise… just- please give me a chance… and I’ll make you this happy forever, until we’re both old and gross and yelling at people to get off our lawn” Stoney smiles, caressing your cheek “Please…” your eyes almost seemingly swell with the happiest of tears as his words flow. You nod, smiling “Stoney, how could I ever pass up the chance to be with the best guy I’ve ever met…?” He smiles brightly, his lips finally meeting yours. You can feel him smile just as brightly as his hands move from your face and down to your hips. The kiss is full of long awaited love, that he just professes to you through your connected lips. And as all other good things, the kiss ends, as he rests his forehead against yours. “You have officially made me the happiest man in the universe, Sugar… and I won’t let you down.” He smiles, and from then on all you can feel for him is a warm and loving passion for the man you’ve come to known as Stoney.

~

(A/N): I hope you enjoyed! I’m trying to ram through this writers block right now, thank you for the request! 🩷

[lifeissapphic]

🪴

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"THE PENITENTIARY AT PORTSMOUTH," Toronto Star. April 30, 1912. Page 1. ---- HOW FIVE DESPERATE CONVICTS ALMOST MADE THEIR ESCAPE FROM THE KINGSTON PEN --- Boldest Attempt in the History of Canadian Prisons - A Miracle That No One Was Killed, for Men Were Determined to Regain Freedom at Any Cost. ---- The prison at Portsmouth, known familiarly as Kingston Penitentiary, was the scene yesterday of the most daring bolt for liberty in the records of Canadian penal institutions. The fight started in the isolation ward about 10 am, when Guard Davis was felled by an iron bar by Vincent McNeil, a five-year term man. The latter then let Frank Kelly, Henry Jones. Arthur Brown, and Williame, four Western desperadoes, out of their cells. Encountering Dr. Phelan, they took his clothes and locked him in a cell. They also overpowered Keeper Madrien, took his clothes, and locked Davis up with Dr. Phelan, whose picture is inset above, so that he could attend the guard who was badly injured. Keeper Madden was forced into another cell, Proceeding to the main gate in uniform and civilian clothes, they deceived Guard Rutherford at the gate, and hit him a vicious blow on the head, One of the five started down the road, and the others up the steps of the warden's residence and away. After an exciting chase of two hours they were recaptured. Four of the gang on March 12 last. when being transferred from Stony Mountain Penitentiary to Kingston, made a desperate attempt to escape from constables on a moving train at the Union Station, Toronto.

[joeygallagher]

Sentinel: The West Face (1967)

Dir. - Roger C. Brown

Starring - Royal Robbins and Yvon Chouinard

Writing / Narration - Barry Corbet

[colleenmurphy]

@aristobun Just had a thought about Crawl and Stoney's mother...I think I found her...

Tabitha 'Tabby' Grossinger-Brown

Points for Mr. Brown being seen after all this time...

[tahliafox]

Only you.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader.

Summary: “Oh, baby. It's only you. My special, little girl.” Natasha whispered into your ear, like a dirty secret. 

Warnings: Angst, Making out.

Word count: 1938 

This is an add on to Dirty Secret, my last published story.

Your finger flitted gently over the F# a couple times before a light pressure caused a horrendous off-key sound coming from the G in front of it. Your eyes tightly closed shut at the mistake.

“It’s an F#, darling.” The deep voice that appeared beside you made you flinch into a pair of thin, delicate hands that came to rest on your  tender shoulders. A green-flecked gaze ran over Natasha’s perfectly polished nails. From instant perception, the older woman's voice seemed to be aroused with disappointment.

The hand that once rested on your shoulder came and grasped at your shaky hands to place them onto the right keys. “A, then F#, then back to A. The notes are in triplets, play it rhythmically and evenly. That may prevent you from slipping again.” You took in a quiet breath, drying out your wanting lips. 

“I'm sorry, I have been trying to play it for ages now. I just can't get it right.” Your voice came out shaky, the breath taken in did little to calm your nerves- further prevented by the divine presence behind you. Natasha ran her hand back over to your shoulder and comfortingly caressed the tiffany blue, cotton shirt. Nimble fingers played with the satin collar that had been folded neatly, framing your porcelain neck. It was unfolded and folded again in exactly the same way, however it seemed to look neater after Natasha’s touch. 

“Why don’t you take a break, sweetheart. Maybe we could clear your head a little.” Natasha looked into your eyes through the gold-framed mirror in front of you both. You blushed under her gaze, as always, and nodded your head. “Fancy a walk?”`

You found yourself thoughtlessly agreeing.

Dancing ballet through thin plaits and red ribbons, the wind seemed to cool your forever flushed cheeks. Golden shards of light peaked through the patterned skyline created by browning leaves. The tree's trunks were home to a blanket of moss that creeped its way up through the branches. Ruby red heels clicked along the stoney, concrete road - that had been framed roughly by brittle leaves fallen from adjacently-lined rows of tall autumn-stained trees. 

Your hand fiddled with the fur lining at the end of your coat, nimble fingers occasionally brushing against the coffee-coloured, plaid skirt you had on. Your eyes were trained on the floor, watching your every step, dear God don’t fall over. You were oh-so careful, trying not to trip over any loose stones that may have been in your way- after all, embarrassing yourself in front of Natasha any more that you already had was the only thing racing through your mind. 

Covered in a ebony-black trench coat, Natasha looked glamorous and rich as always, with a cherry cigarette hanging from her lips. Her hair was tucked neatly into a french beret, secured by two pure gold clips. Everything she owned was so expensive, so expensive that you started to feel worth something every time Natasha layed her gentle fingers against your scarred skin.

“The sunsets are always beautiful this time of year.” Natasha put forth. Her hand was gently intertwined with your own, repeatedly rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand. The unconscious movement managed to both calm and panic you at the same time. The overwhelming being of Natasha never ceased to leave your frame of mind, she was always there. 

Natasha was not expecting the silence she was met with after her remark. You clearly had not cleared your mind yet. “Please try to stop thinking, darling. You have been ever-so stressed recently and it's starting to worry me- and believe me I need nothing less than more worry lines on my forehead.” she chuckled. Your gaze whipped from the gravel path into Natasha’s eyes. 

“You are beautiful.” You spluttered. Natasha blushed softly and raised her eyebrows- making you choke on a dry throat. The soft cigarette smoking coming from Natasha’s mouth weaved its way through the air. “I- I mean that you shouldn't worry about getting lines on your face. You’re already so beautiful and I- well there's nothing that could happen to your face to erase that.” You un-methodically rambled.  

Natasha listened with a sweet smile on her face. Her eyelashes fluttered as she took in the wonder in your eyes as you spoke about her. “Well, thank you very much, sweetheart.” Natasha squeezed your hand tightly in hers with the intention of comfort. 

You smiled and looked back at the floor, the disorder of thoughts slowly clearing. “Did you talk to Darren about my sleeping arrangements? He asked me to clear out the guest room downstairs for whilst he is away- to keep you company.” You changed the subject. Natasha’s smile sunk a little at the mention of her husband. 

“Why don’t we take a trip away as well. Nobody is needing us here, we could go to Rome. I know you speak italian.” Natasha mumbled. You nodded your head at the option. Rome was always lovely at this time of the year, and your apartment there looked over the skyline perfectly.

“I have a place there.” You mentioned. Natasha looked at her, surprised.

“You do?”

“Well, it used to be my Nonno’s, but after he passed away I inherited it. It's completely paid off and everything.”

Natasha smiled at you as you both got to the end of the gravelled road, reaching a perfectly preserved fence. A bay horse lifted its head from the grass, looking over to see you and Natasha standing over the fence. Natasha clicked her tongue at her horse.

The horse came trotting over with its head held high. 

“How come I don't look after the horses as well as the house?” You asked.

“I assumed you were not trained with equine animals. If you had mentioned it in your resume I would have discussed it with you.” Natasha ran her hand along the stripe on the geldings head.

“Oh- I am not trained with horses, I just assumed I would take care of everything.” You hesitated for a second. “You have other maids?”

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head a little at the tone of your question. “Well, yes. It's a rather large estate and it would be impossible for you to clean it yourself, especially because you're not a live-in maid.” 

The realisation that there were other people that could possibly be this close to Natasha shot its way through your stomach like a bullet. What if you weren’t special? What if Natasha was just overly kind, overly giving? What if she’d been with another woman? A concerned look settled onto your face and, unbeknownst to yourself, Natasha was watching every twitch, every little movement to try and read what you were thinking. So lost in thought, you didn't even realise that Natasha's hand had let go of your own hand, and was now reaching its way onto your cheek. 

The juxtaposing smells of Natasha’s cherry wrist and the horse's mane were able to pull you out of a trance. Natasha held your face ever-so delicately and lifted your chin so she could look directly into soft eyes. Like the scent of Natasha, a cherry shade flooded onto your cheeks- all the way to the tips of your ears. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Natasha kindly demanded.

“Do you talk to everyone like this? Do you… well, are you with anyone as well as this?” The innocence of the question, followed with the despair that painted its way onto your face made Natasha pull you into her firm hold. You wrapped your arms around Natashas waist as one of her hands made its way into your hair, scratching at your scalp softly. 

“Oh, baby, only you. My special, little girl.” Natasha whispered into your ear, like a dirty secret. You burrowed your head into Natasha’s neck, allowing the sweet smell to dissipate your thoughts. Natasha rested her chin on top of combed hair and swayed you in her arms, whilst continuously stroking a line from the base of your neck to scalp.

After a long moment, you pulled away from Natasha’s neck, keeping the woman close in your arms. Your head turned away from Natasha’s gaze, scouting the area to see if anyone was with the two of you. 

“Kiss me.” You stated.

Natasha seemed to know everything, but at this moment she went foolish, you hadn't asked her for anything since that night. Often pervaded with words, she found herself speechless. She’d kissed you before, she’d fucked you before yet this was different, thought through- intimate, less impulsive. Sharply inhaling through her nose, (the sweet smell of you not helping her state of overwhelm) went blank, and opened her mouth.

“What?” The older woman's voice, unlike her face, was filled with emotion and expression.  It held a tone of something that you’d never heard before- disbelief maybe, so abnormal that your stomach started to curl. Her voice went- she tried to respond but all that happened was an opening of pretty, pink lips and the release of a cut breath. Natasha stared with shock for a few seconds, her mouth had dropped open the same. Her eyes flicked around the property they were on, after realising they were truly alone she nodded.

“Ask- ask me again and I'll give you anything. I’ll give you everything, just ask me.” Natasha’s voice was desperate. The young girl stole her thoughts and replaced them with images of what could happen. Breathing out of her nose, she closed her eyes and dropped so her forehead was resting against yours. “Please, baby. Ask me again.” The desperate voice dropped to a pleading whisper. 

“Kiss me.”

Despite the sheer desperation swimming within Natasha, she was gentle and kind. Soft, moisturised lips kissed themselves on your shaky mouth, pecking twice- why was she being so damn gentle-  until it got too much. You whined, feeling the older woman inhale against your mouth as the noise registered in her ears. Her legs subtly got closer, almost crossing.

Your eyes were closed, so tightly- as if you were making it up in your head and the permission of sight would cause a decay of the dream. But it was real, as real as Natasha’s nose brushing against yours, her lips intertwined, sucking on your lower lip. As real as her bold, undiscouraged hands gripping at your waist, forcing an arch in your back as she leaned into you.

Your slender arms draped over her neck, the crinkles in your shirt, the dip in her knees. Raphael couldn't paint a prettier picture than what was standing in broad daylight. 

“Please.” You begged, not knowing what you were actually asking for.

More, anything. 

“What, baby?” her mouth drew a millimetre away from yours. “Tell me what you need.”

You stuttered. Her, just her. 

“You, please.” so frail, so inexperienced. What were you supposed to ask for other than her? You just wanted her again.

Yet the world seemed so unkind, as the faint tapping of boots against cobbled stone started to get louder. Natasha withdrew herself from you completely, and in the matter of seconds you seemed to go through withdrawals. Your eyes widened, then welled.

The older woman had you at almost arms length, she consistently observed the surroundings. You begged that no one had seen the both of you together. Once so tender, she went cold, then started walking away from you. 

“Go back inside, finish your duties.” she ordered, as if she was talking to staff. You then realised she was, and that's what you were to her, an employee.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Poll - 10/13/23

Descriptions Below (sorry for my terrible summaries):

-

Peter Parker (Noir) X Fem Reader - Title: It Had To Be You - Fluff/Angst;

Summary: After falling into your dimension, Peter tries to find a way back to his, but doesn't expect falling a third time... Falling for you. But as the years go by, Peter never expected to run into two familiar faces, realizing that he doesn't have a choice but to leave you. Post Into The Spiderverse.

-

Peter B. Parker X GN Reader - Title: Chrysanthemums, Dahlias, and Lavender - Fluff/Angst;

Summary: Peter B. sits with you and remembers the day he met you. From meeting on the playground, walking down high school halls, and sharing your first kiss... Post Into The Spiderverse.

-

Jaime Reyes X GN Reader - Title: Blue With Envy - Fluff/Slight Angst;

Summary: When Jaime finds out who your favorite superhero is, he can't help but feel a little bit jealous. Post Blue Beetle.

-

Stoney Brown X GN Reader - Title: Crazy For You - Fluff/Mini Angst (Requested);

Summary: Stoney asks you to Prom.

-

Dean Winchester X Fem Reader - Title: Sleeping Beauty - Fluff/Slight Angst (Requested);

Summary: Dean meets the Reader at her place of work, a sweet little diner that sells the best homemade pie. After they start dating, Dean has no trouble helping take care of the Reader who has narcolepsy.

[ladystoneboobs]

possibly incomplete list of asoiaf characters described as having red or even "ginger" hair (or red-gold as opposed to red-brown or ghiscari red-black), never auburn:

mycah, the butcher's boy*

beric dondarrion (red-gold hair)*

lharys, member of the three stooges men-at-arms (wild rust-colored hair)**

unnamed and unfortunate mother of robert baratheon's doomed youngest child, barra (light red-haired mother of black-haired baby)*

tomard aka "fat tom", stark guardsman (with his ginger whiskers)*

horas "horror" redwyne (orange hair)*

hobber "slobber" redwyne (orange hair)*

unnamed red-haired whore leaning out a window the day of ned's execution (presumably not the same as above since she was joking about the king's death)*

melisandre of asshai (deep burnished copper. red and terrible and red.)*

a man called jaqen h'ghar (red on one side, white on the other)*

pug-nosed dancy from chataya's brothel (described as red-haired by tyrion in acok but honey-blonde in asos, so presumably hair dye must have been involved between those book mentions.)**

addam marbrand (hair the same copper color as his horse's mane)*

"ginger-headed" maester frenken*

unnamed beardless ginger youth among theon's crew at winterfell*

ygritte, a spearwife "kissed-by-fire" (bright red)*

arryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's red-mustached guardsman*

erryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's other, identical, red-mustached guardsman*

lord paxter redwyne (tufts of orange hair)**

anguy the archer of the bwb*

a red-bearded karstark rapist dead in a crow cage at stoney sept*

tansy, innkeeper of the peach in stoney sept*

meryn trant (rust-red hair)*

"red" ronnet connington

mero, "the titan's bastard", former commander of the second sons (bushy red-gold beard)

a red-headed soldier who came with stannis to the wall

shadrich "the mad mouse" (bristly orange hair)*

lord rykker's red-mustached maester

marwyn belmore, lysa's former guard captain (ginger-headed)*

lord benedar belmore with a beard that was "a ginger-grey horror"*

lord orton merryweather (reddish-orange hair)

"the red oarsman", one of euron greyoy's followers (fiery red hair)

unnamed red-haired sailor arriving at port in braavos*

lord clement piper

and his son lewys "little lew" piper, who served as squire to jaime lannister in the riverlands

unnamed red-haired youth who first escaped northward with varamyr from the battle at the wall

one of illyrio's washerwomen (dull red hair)**

jon connington (once red hair gone to grey, still red at the roots and eyebrows even when the rest was dyed blue. also had a bright red beard as a younger man.)**

rolly "duck" duckfield (a shock of orange hair)**

a young man among the wildling refugees at mole's town whose red hair reminded jon of ygritte*

the "sunset kingdoms" girl raped by tyrion in the brothel where he was captured by jorah**

hagen's daughter, only other woman among asha greyjoy's crew

roggon rustbeard, one of asha's men

mully of the nw (greasy orange hair)*

bloodbeard, commander of the company of the cat (fiery red whiskers)

"ginger" jack, a toungeless sellsword of the windblown sent to dany, face nearly covered by his bristly, orange beard

gerrick kingsblood*

and his son*

and gerrick's daughter #1*

and gerrick's daughter #2*

and gerrick's daughter #3*

ronald storm, son of ronnet connington

one of the 7 "choicest" enslaved girls from the yunkish ship who were sacrificed by victarion (red-gold hair)

an enslaved redhead boy in line for a well, asking tyrion about dany**

nail, apprentice to hammer, the armorer for the second sons**

maester tybald, redhaired maester from the dreadfort serving arnolf karstark

valena toland, heiress to ghost hill (bright red hair)

teora toland, valena's younger sister with the same hair

uther shett, knight arriving for sweetrobin's tourney (ginger-haired and whiskered)*

*characters whose hair is described in the povs of starks (or jon snow) who only use the terms auburn or red-brown for catelyn, robb, sansa etc. and do not compare said characters to said tully-haired relations

**characters whose hair is described by tyrion lannister, who spent significant time with sansa and exclusively referred to her hair as auburn (without anyone else telling him her hair color as catelyn told brienne)

the only asoiaf characters ever described as having auburn hair:

catelyn tully stark

robb stark (red-brown/auburn tully hair "so like" his mother's, with a beard redder than his hair)

sansa stark (auburn hair lighter than her mother's, most reddish glowing in candlelight)

brandon "bran" stark (hair not bright red enough for him to distinguish himself from young benjen at first glance in a weirwood flashback)

rickon stark

brynden "the blackfish" tully (once auburn hair gone to grey)

edmure tully (auburn hair with a fiery beard, likely brighter than his hair like robb's)

lysa tully arryn baelish

known tully descendants never described as having auburn hair

arya stark (darker brown stark-colored hair)

hoster tully (hair and beard gone from brown to brown streaked with grey to white as snow)

robert "sweetrobin" arryn (fine brown hair, thought by sansa to be his best feature)

fun fact: the only other character that i can find to ever even be descibed as having red-brown hair in the main series is rowan, one of the spearwives who accompanied mance on his mission to winterfell. (described by theon, who had psychological reasons not to think of any hair-resemblance to robb and co.)

tl;dr i suppose my point here is that auburn hair in the real world may be a term thrown around wildly as a fancier way of saying red hair, but grrm and his westerosi creations seem to keep to a much more specific (true) definition. not just specific, almost entirely unique to a certain family, a weird mutation passing down their line somewhat inexplicably, like the magic platinum hair of the targaryens. (ned stark's 4 tully-haired kids being sorta like alicent hightower's 4 targ-haired kids where nobody can really explain why it was so dominant.) except it's actually more unique to the tullys than either black hair to the baratheons or silver hair to the targaryens, with the velaryons also having valyrian hair as well as some people in the essosi free cities too. which i guess makes rowan the wildling the equalivent of an unknown dragonseed or a lysene woman who could pass as a targ, and regular brown-haired hoster and sweetrobin the equivalent of regular blonde-haired alysanne and alyssa targaryen. so the next time someone calls the tullys lame or whatever, just remember that in-universe they're actually more special than the dragonriders, at least hairwise.

[ramielll]

I was waiting for you -Part 2

Benjicot Blackwood x fem reader

Contains: some angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn

Word count: 1663

Tw: canon typical discrimination against women, drinking

Part 3

≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫

„You were conspiring behind my back about my betrothal?” Y/N’s voice rose dangerously before she remembered herself. She paced in her room as her brother sat in one of the chairs in front of the hearth. Looking tenser by the moment with watching his older sister growing more agitated. He did feel guilty about the ordeal, he knew he should have discussed this with her before coming to Riverrun, but it was as obvious to him as it was to their father, that if she knew, she would have never agreed to come here.

„I apologise for keeping this from you sister, but I would hardly call this conspiring. You are a woman grown, and you already have the luxury that you do not have to marry for us to further our advantage, thanks to my own betrothal.” He sighed and tried to give her a reassuring look as he continued. „Father gave me this task, but rest assured, your wishes will be considered.

She stopped her pacing to look into her brothers’ eyes. He did look sorry, and she knew this wasn’t really his fault, still she thought he would at least mention their plans. The situation was tense enough for her and quarrelling would not make it better. „It was shrewd of you to keep this from me but thank you for taking my feelings into regard. Not many noble ladies have that.” She added in a low voice. „There is no turning back now it seems.” Her voice shaking with realisation. „All I ask is that you do not make the decision without asking me in the end.“ She could feel the anxiety seeping into her bones just at the thought.

„I promise.” His eyes shown honesty. „But you also cannot simply refuse everyone.”

Y/N only nodded. She always knew this moment will eventually arrive. She thought that she should feel lucky for having even a small saying in the matter. But no matter how hard she tried, at the moment she couldn’t muster much gratitude.

The young man stood from his chair and offered his arm. „Let us get to supper. I’m sure the others are waiting already.”

„Of course.” Y/N took his arm without another word and took a deep breath as they entered the hallway and began walking towards the great hall. There was nothing left to argue about. All she could do, is to hope and try to get familiar with one of her suitors. She must make the best of this dreadful situation.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The stoney hall of Riverrun was already prepared for supper, with people being seated around a long table as they made their entrance. The man surrounding the table stood from their seats as she approached them on her brother’s arm. There were only two seats left. One between her cousins and one at the right of Edmure Frey at the end of the table. Y/N tried to take a step towards Oscar and Kermit, but her brother gently tugged her back, steering her towards the other seat. She sent a mean glare in his direction before she sat down with a tight-lipped smile.

Everyone began eating and loudly chattering as she poured herself some wine to down it quickly and just as she reached for the pitcher again a hand took it from her to pour into her cup.

„Lady Stark, allow me to say, how radiant you look tonight.” Edmure Frey, only a year or two younger than her, was a pleasant looking young man. With shoulder length, light brown hair and greyish green eyes. He was clearly trying to gain her favour with flattery, but he did not look like a cunning man. It could be worse, she thought. If he turned out to be kind or good humoured, they might find familiarity.

„Thank you, my Lord.” She gave him a small smile before taking another sip of her cup.

„I heard you take a great interest in histories my Lady. Not many ladies are so fond of reading books other than ones about romance. You have my admiration.” Edmure Frey leaned closer as he smiled and tried to flirt. She laughed and was about to say something, but another voice interrupted.

„You must not have met many ladies, Lord Frey, so you might find it hard to believe, but the majority of noble ladies have their own minds and interests.” She looked up at the men seated in front of her, only now really noticing him. His dark eyes immediately meeting hers with a subtle flush on his face and smile directed towards her.

„My Lady, I apologise for Edmure, one should not be so surprised about a lady being interesting.” Lord Edmure grew stiff beside Y/N as she looked down and tried to stifle a snort.

„Well said Lord Blackwood.” She said with a laugh, missing how the three men on the other side of the table shared glances of interest at their conversation. Benjcot’s smile broadened. „Call me Benji or Ben, my Lady. Like you used to.” His voice grew more sincere as did his smile while gazing at her.

„Very well… Benji.” Her face reddened and she lowered her eyes, getting shy suddenly at Benji’s intense look.

While the conversation did die down after that between them, everyone else around the table could see Y/N and Benjicot taking quick glances at one another when they thought the other wasn’t looking, through the rest of the evening.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Y/N was restless as she laid in her comfortable bed. She tossed and turned, trying to find a good position but it seemed sleep evaded her. She shoved aside her blankets with frustration and got up. This trip was not turning out as she envisioned it. Her emotions about this whole ordeal refused to give her any rest. So, she slipped her feet into her shoes and donned one her thicker robes over her flimsy nightgown as she made her way outside.

Y/N walked through the long halls and then the empty courtyard before slipping out in the back and arriving on the familiar little pathway between the forest and the river. She made this journey many times before. Although back then it was mostly during the day and with company, but she needed this alone time now. Y/N knew not stray too far from the castle, it was unlikely to meet anyone with bad intentions this close to the walls but it was still better to be cautious.

She stepped over rocks and cold patches of grass, breathing in the chill of the foggy air, feeling calmness finally washing over her. She did not know how many minutes have passed when she heard rustling behind her. Y/N stilled, momentarily fear washing over her.

„Lady Stark!” She knew that voice. „You should not be out here alone.” Her heart filled with relief as she turned towards none other than Benjicot Blackwood.

„Lord Bla- Benji.” Her voice came out too timid for her liking as she tightened her robe. „I was only-„

„Escaping?” Benjicot finished her sentence with a smile. She laughed as she smiled back at him. „If I were to make my escape, I would not do it in nothing but a but a nightgown.”

„Of course.” He was grinning now. “Do not be afraid to ask me for any assistance when it comes to your actual escape my Lady” Benjicot stepped closer with his hands behind his back.

„I don’t think that would be wise of me, how would I know that you will not tell my brother?” He stopped in front of her, closer than deemed proper, so that he can see her face in the moonlight. It was a good thing he held his hands clasped behind him, his fingers suddenly itched to touch her pretty face. He always knew she was beautiful growing up. During the times they have spent together, were many occasions where he made a fool of himself. Only to get her attention or to make her laugh.

„You don’t trust your childhood companion? You wound me my Lady.” She looked down before raising her gaze shyly again. „You should also call me by my given name. You are right. We’re old friends after all.”

„As you wish Y/N.” He made the mistake of stealing a glance at her lips. He needed to get a grip on himself. The situation was improper already. Being alone in the dark, with an unwed noble lady, for whom he also possessed great affections too. He reluctantly took a step back from her. At this, Y/N could almost feel a bit of disappointment.

„Allow me to walk you back to your chambers Y/N” He offered his hand, which she took without hesitation.

They made their way back to Riverrun mostly in silence. Both of them feeling both nervousness and comfort at the closeness they shared after all this time spent apart.

She felt a twinge in her heart as they arrived at her door. She did not yet want to end their private time together. Y/N turned towards Benjicot before stepping into her rooms.

„Would you accompany me to a walk tomorrow Y/N?” He asked before she could say goodnight.

„Yes, of course!“ Her voice was but a whisper as she smiled. „It would be my pleasure. And it would also get me away from my brothers’ expectant eyes, as well as from Edmure Frey’s blatant flirting.” She laughed awkwardly. „I will gladly play the part of your saviour.” He lifted her hand to his lips and gently brushed a kiss over her knuckles. He tried really hard to be dashing, but his cheeks flushed and his stomach flipped as he saw her equally rosy face and soft parted lips.

„Goodnight, Y/N.”

„Goodnight Benji” She whispered before closing the door behind her. She had trouble falling asleep again, although for an entirely different reason this time.

[asumofwords]

Aemond POV: Your return to the Red Keep

A/N: I saw that a few of you wanted an Aemond POV, and as I am a benevolent ruler, I thought I would give the people what they wanted. I wanted to do the the first couple of times he saw you after the years you were separated. This is all from Aemond’s point of view and from the time where you and your family all returned to the Red Keep.

This is a Dark!Aemond POV from the fic Smoke, Fire and Ash.

Enjoy !

TW: Aemond POV. Dark!Aemond. Murder, Incest, thoughts of violence, thoughts of sexual activities. 18+

Words: 4k

Character pairing: Dark!Aemond X Reader, HOTD characters. Dark!Aemond POV.

He swung his sword roughly at Ser Criston, who leant back to dodge the edge of the sharp blade, as he and Aemond moved in tandem in the training yard. Aemond was fast on his feet but knew Ser Cole to be just as quick. 

Each swing was met by a duck, or deflection by the chain of the flail Ser Cole swung at him, the loud clanging of the chain and whistle in the air as it moved towards him, guided him back. And soon Aemond found himself dancing in a circle as he waited to make the next move, to swing the blade back down onto the knight and make him yield. 

Ser Cole swung the striking head once more towards Aemond, and he dodged, before spinning to hold the tip of his blade against Ser Cole's neck, hitting the flail away. They both breathed deeply as they watched each other, and Ser Cole finally conceded. 

Applause rang out from those who had gathered to watch the two men train, and Aemond felt the prickling sensation of three sets of eyes upon his form.

Ser Cole dropped the flail to the ground heavily, “Well done, My Prince,” Ser Cole breathed, “You’ll win tourneys in no time.”

Aemond did not lower the blade, “I don’t give a shit about tourneys.” He spoke, before allowing his gaze to roam the space to where he felt eyes watching him. Lowering his sword, Aemond let his eye land on a pair of brown headed boys, and the silver hair of a girl.

Who is she?

“Nephews,” He called out, enjoying watching the two Strong boys stiffen as they were addressed, faces suddenly uncomfortable, “Have you come to train?” 

Jacaerys mouth opened and closed like a fish, as Lucerys looked up to the girl, no, woman, beside him. How she had grown. No longer the gangly limbed child, who’s hair could rarely be tamed, but now stood a woman of the court. 

Her hair was braided neatly behind her head, as she wore a tight all black gown that hugged her curves. Grown, indeed. Her cheeks were dusted a light pink. He felt his lip twitch as he watched her, small excitement bubbling inside as he remembered fond memories of their youth together.

Was she nervous?

As he caught her gaze, she blinked, looking down and then back up at him, stoney faced and chin held higher. She looked down to Lucerys, whispering to him before moving the two Strong boys away with her, back into the Keep. 

All those fond memories came crashing down, and the bitter rage in which Aemond had tried in vain to keep in order, bubbled up inside of him. There she was, the Princess who he had been so close to, his niece who he had shared so many memories with, so many secrets, once again choosing her brothers over him. 

He could remember vividly, sitting in that room, as the Maester stitched his eye shut, feeling the sharp pain of the needle as it threaded through. No milk of the poppy was given to him. He was too young, it was too dangerous. And so instead he tried to seek comfort in someone he always had.

You.

And what had you done? 

Stuck by Lucerys, checking his face for injury, and standing firmly alongside your mother, watching him as he was berated in front of all, by his father. That was when the love shared between the both of you died.

He would do well to remind himself of that.

Aemond could not believe how much she had changed. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he watched them walk away, the Princess throwing a curious look over her shoulder to glance at him one more time. 

He supposed that he had grown too. His cheeks no longer held the plumpness of young adolescence, and his face had grown sharp and angled. Even the way he held himself was different.

He had changed, and so had she.

You were all in the Iron Throne room, listening to Vaemond Velaryon put forward a motion to be heir of Driftmark, questioning the four of you and your legitimacy, voice loudly ringing into the court.

Aemond would remember it for the rest of his days. 

You stood, back straight, head tall, hair braided tightly up, with none flowing down. A black and red gown hugging your figure with an off the shoulder look, similar to your mother as you stood beside her, mouth turned down in the corners. 

Such rage, Aemond noted.

He watched with glee as Vaemond argued with your mother, watching Jacaerys shake his head and mutter under his breath whilst his assaulter, Lucerys looked nervous. You had pushed Lucerys beside you, using your body as a shield to keep him out of Vaemond’s line of sight.

Still protecting him.

Aemond felt that bitterness curl through him as he watched. 

“Her children... are bastards!”  Vaemond yelled into the court, and yet despite it all, Aemond could not keep his eye off of you. As soon as the words left the Velaryon’s lips, he watched as your face calmed. 

It was eerie, Aemond thought. 

Your hand had moved the slightest of bits towards your side, and Aemond watched as you swayed forward, as though ready to pounce. There was no blush on your cheeks, no sneer on your lips, just a fire burning in your eyes as you watched your Velaryon uncle. 

“And she…is…a whore.” The man sneered.

“I, shall have your tongue for that.” Aemond’s father called out to the court, standing roughly as he unsheathed the blade from his side. 

Aemond would not give the old man a second glance, he knew that his father would do nothing, as he had done nothing for years. And would do nothing as he was too weak from sickness, and too faint of heart.

Movement caught Aemond’s eye, as he watched Vaemond Velaryon’s corpse fall loudly to the ground, the sound of a blade and the loud thud echoing through the chambers. 

If Aemond could laugh, he would. But it would not be proper of him. 

“He can keep his tongue.” Daemon purred, looking down at his handiwork.

Aemond flicked his sight away from the corpse and up at you. You had not jumped, nor looked away from the body on the floor. No. Instead you glared at it with rage, before suddenly your lips pulled into a small smile. 

No-one else in the court would have witnessed it, too busy looking at the body of the man slain in front of them. Your lips looked as though they were fighting to hide the sheer joy and pleasure you got from watching him be killed. A small line of blood was flecked across your cheek, but you did not notice, or if you had, you did not wipe it away.

Such a beautiful smile. 

And then suddenly your eyes were on him. And Aemond felt the air be sucked out of the room. You watched him in delight, no longer hiding your smile as you watched him. Such a smug and proud look upon your face. A threat some would say. 

The sight made his cock twitch. 

There she is.

Aemond felt awe as he watched Daemon move back, wiping his sword on his robes before he came to stand beside you. You took your gaze from your uncle, and looked up at your mothers husband, smiling proudly. 

He watched as Daemon ran a finger along your cheek to wipe the Velaryon blood away lovingly, and Aemond felt a pang of jealousy. 

Aemond noted that Vaemond was wrong when he said that they wouldn’t know what Velaryon blood looked like, because now the whole court did.

Aemond had been running late for his family feast, something that he had never done before. He prided himself in upholding his duty and being the son that Aegon should have been.

In truth, Aemond had gone straight to his chambers after the events at court, and had pulled roughly at his cock at the thought of you. He wished to touch you, to hold you, to claim you. He wanted to mark you so that everyone knew that you were his. He wanted to watch you swell with his babe.

He had never thought of you this way before and it maddened him. He found his release in his hand three times that day, picturing you on your knees before him, pleasuring him with your soft lips, or him thrusting deep into your cunt. 

You had bewitched him.

He had brushed his hair more roughly than he should have, the frustration rolling through him as he prepared to walk down to the feast. And although he had brought himself to climax three times already, he still was not satisfied. He told himself as he walked to the Dining Hall to ignore you, to breathe, to not get caught in the trap of a bastard. 

But he was already trapped.

When he entered the room, he noticed all were praying before the meal, his mother Alicent giving him a stern yet disappointing look. It made his heart sting to disappoint her. And this sting, he blamed immediately upon you.

As he walked to the table he let himself gaze at you. 

You wore quite the scandalous dress, as though you were purposefully teasing him. No. He was sure you were doing it on purpose. To get a rise out of him. To tempt him into your space.

The neckline was plunging and he could not help but let his eyes linger upon the breasts you had developed. They looked so soft, and Aemond wanted nothing more than to run his tongue over them softly, or bite them roughly.

He could not decide which one he liked the thought of better.

Aemond asked his mother for forgiveness as he sat at his seat, at the opposite end of the table facing you. He held your gaze firm, and when he saw the light blush crawl over your cheeks, he let himself smirk in victory. 

Perhaps he affected you the same way you did him.

He watched you carefully that evening, eye roaming your figure wondering if you had been spoiled yet by some man, or woman. He wondered why you had not been betrothed yet, surely a woman of your age should have been promised to some Lord by now.

And then he could not help but think perhaps the Gods were on his side for once, and the reason that you were not engaged yet, meant that you would be his. 

Aemond found that he had no hunger that evening, except for a hunger for you. He could not bring himself to eat, nor could he bring himself to take his eye away from you. He still could not believe how much you had grown. 

Your lips were fuller now, and had the softest curve to them, than you did when you were young, and the longer he looked, the more he found it difficult to look away. He wondered if you hated him. The way you caught his gaze and sneered, made him assume so. 

How could she hate me? He thought. 

What had he done to deserve this? She was the one who abandoned him. She was the one who chose her bastard brother over him. She was the one who let him take his eye, and did not care for his pain after. 

He felt that anger prickle in the back of his head as he watched her. 

He watched his niece dance, and laugh with his sister. He watched them break each other's cold masks and for one second, he thought he was looking back in time, from when they had all been children. Back to when Helaena and Y/n had been inseparable. 

Or so he had thought.

He found that as he watched them dance and enjoy each other's company, he could no longer sneer. He could no longer hold such disdain and anger. It gave him a lick of hope. A disgusting, fickle piece of hope that perhaps one day, he could have her, and she would want it.

But then Jacaerys took Helaena to dance, and suddenly he felt that anger redirected.

How dare the dirty bastard touch her like that. How dare he make her smile. How dare his disgusting Strong hands touch Helaena so gently, hold her as though he knew her intimately.

He didn’t.

His nephew could never know just how beautiful Helaena was, just how beautiful she could be. 

No one deserved her. 

Not even Aemond himself.

And as he found himself scowling at his nephew he heard the soft, yet sharp call of your voice, turning his attention back to you, hackles on his back up and ready to fight from your tone. 

You were mocking him.

“Prince Aemond, were you riding Vhagar this evening? I thought I saw her soaring up into the sky. When you didn’t arrive on time, I worried that a storm had come and taken you.” She inquired, fake concern lacing her venomous tongue.

You little bitch.

Aemond had to school himself, and so he reached out to hold his goblet, taking a sip of the spiced wine to give him time to think before reacting. He had been reacting to her all day, and found that if he did it again, he would have to take her, right there and then, before their family to show them who she truly belonged to.

“I was merely enjoying the night sky, dear niece.” 

Lie. He was thinking of your soft thighs, and sweet lips and warm-

“It's not everyday you have the world's largest dragon, and I make a habit of reminding myself of that.”

And Gods, he could not lie that when your next words spilled from your lips, and the cruel smile you gave him, he had not really listened to your words. He had not even given thought to your attempt to goad him into a fight. Because he was ready, and he had been all too ready since the day you came back. 

Since the day he saw you in the training yard. 

Aemond had been ready to lash out at you for what you had done to him. For abandoning him. For choosing your bastard brothers and whore mother over him. For ruining what could have been. For what you had made him feel. For how weak he had become.

He was almost as bad as Aegon, and that was what made it so much worse. 

He had planned to leave it, he had planned to not give in. To show who was superior, to show the grace of a true Targaryen, not a bastard of a disgraced whore Princess, who would never sit upon the throne. He clenched his teeth so hard in his mouth, that all he could do was hum in response.

But then the Gods were cruel, and fate was even crueler, and he watched in horror as a roasted pig was placed before him. He knew it was coming, he knew the cards that were about to be dealt, and he felt the slightest itch of his scar as his lone eye looked upon a stark reminder of his youth.

He listened as Lucerys snorted, just like the pig at his expense, and it all came flooding back.

The taunting, the mocking, the cruelty, his eye.

All of it. 

But losing his eye did not hurt nearly as much as watching you abandon him for them.

“Is that not your first dragon, uncle Aemond? What had you named it again? The Pink Dread?” You teased, smirking at him and Aemond heard as the others giggled from the table, even Aegon. 

Aegon was the worst of them all. 

And despite everything he had done for his brother, the years of protecting him, the years of coddling him and allowing him to be the disgusting man that he was, it still wasn’t good enough. Aegon still called Aemond a twat, and mocked him. Made a mockery of their position as Targaryen Princes. Forcing him to a Pleasure house at ten-and-three, telling him it was ‘time to get it wet’.

But he hadn’t wanted to.

And there it was. 

That anger that he tried so desperately to push deep within him. That anger his mother had tried to school out of him, the anger that only Helaena seemed to soothe with her kind words and comfort. She was the only one in the Keep who did not treat him like a monster. She was the only one he had left.

Fuck it.

Aemond slammed his hand on the table, feeling the wood sting his palm as he stood to his full height, holding out his goblet to her, watching her shit eating grin slowly fall from her face.

“Final tribute.” He began, directing that anger carefully into his next words. 

He watched as she stiffened, eyes flicking about the table, gauging the other's reactions.

“To the health of my nephew's, Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise,” He paused, watching her as she began to anticipate the next words, “Hm… Strong."

Watching her face turn to frown at him, to scowl at him, to burst with such hatred, made his blood rush through his body and into his cock.

And so he continued. 

What a rush.

How good it felt to hurt her the way she had hurt him. To make her feel just as lowly as she had made him feel. How her brothers had made him feel for years. 

He heard his mother say his name but he ignored it. He would deal with the repercussions later, though he doubted he would. She had never stopped him before, and in fact was brazen with discussing the illegitimacy of the Strong boys, so why start now. 

“And to my darling niece, some cast doubts about her strength, but I can see that she is just as Strong as her brothers.”

She was simmering with rage by then and all he could think of was how glorious it would be to put her in her place. To bend her to his will, to snuff out that fire inside of her.

"Let us raise our cups, to these three Strong boys, and their Strong sister." Aemond purred, watching her clench her entire body, hands in fists so tight, her knuckles turned white.

Aemond heard the irritating growl of his nephew Jace, “I dare you to say that again.”

Aemond could not help but smile. This would be little challenge. Though Jace had grown, Aemond was still older and bigger, and doubted the younger boy trained as hard as he did with the sword.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?”

Aemond felt the dull ache on his cheek, his head whipping to the side as Jacaerys laid his fist into his face. His hand still held his goblet, and he noted to himself with great pride, that he had not spilt a drop of wine on the floor.

Turning back, Aemond used little effort to shove his nephew to the floor, watching in his periphery as Lucerys tried in vain to help, as Aegon slammed him into the table by the scruff of his neck.

Down boy.

And then you did something that had not shocked him in the slightest. You grasped the fork from the table, calling out to him with a voice that was laced with venom.

“Say that again. Say that again I dare you!” 

Seeing that tiny fork in your hand made him smile even more. He doubted you even trained yourself, and his size and strength could certainly overpower you.

And how he could not wait to bend you over the table and f-

“No. I want to hear what my uncle has to say.” She heaved a breath, “Speak Aemond, so that we may hear your treasonous lies again.”

My little dragon. Such fire.

He felt an overwhelming sense of pride as he watched you heave angry breaths, eyes wide as you clutched the pathetic fork. So proud in fact, that he found himself grinning. 

He had only seen this side of you a handful of times as a child.

Defending Helaena when Aegon would question her intelligence or sanity.

Defending Lucerys and Jacaerys when he and Aegon would call them bastards together, or taunt them once their mother Alicent had told them of the threat of Rhaenyra ascending the throne and her bastard children.

Even defending him.

It made his lips pull wider.

It was not often that Aemond grinned. Sure he smirked, and occasionally smiled, but rarely did he show his teeth. Those sharp incisors that he would have no issue using to bite down on the soft flesh of your thighs, or the stiffened bud of your nipple.

As soon as he bared his teeth to the room, you were moving and he watched in awe as you charged straight for him, much like his mother had done to Rhaenyra all those years ago. 

It was uncanny, the wildness in your eyes. Such devotion.

Such love.

And then you were before him, breasts pushing against the confines of your dress as you heaved angrily, eyes dancing across his face, demanding he answer you.

Commanding him to answer.

He felt the prongs of the fork underneath his neck and could not help but feel himself begin to harden under the tight confines of his pants.

You were so close to him, the closest you had been since you were children. He could see the purple of your eyes, and the blush on your cheeks from the wine and your anger. He could see the small freckles you had on your face, and smell the oils on your skin.

You smelt sweet, earthy, musky. It was addictive, it was arousing. It was everything he had hoped and dreamed of that day, cock in hand. It took all of his strength to not dip his head down and capture your lips with his. To taste the spiced wine that would surely be on your tongue. To drink down your essence and be full of it.

He wanted to be full of you, to taste you. To lick at your weeping cunt as you cried beneath him, begging him. More, more, please Aemond, please uncle, more. He wanted to drink your release as it leaked from you, as he brought you to climax, time and time again.

“Say. That. Again.” The little dragon spat.

If he did not preoccupy his lips with something, he would kiss you. He could not help it. You were magnetic. And enigma. A force to be reckoned with. The Gods had taken their time with you.

And so he lifted the goblet to his lips to sip, but your small hand swiped it away, causing the wine and goblet to spill onto the ground. 

As soon as your hand brushed against his, he felt an electric jolt. It had been so long since you had touched him.

Touch me again.

And then Daemon was behind you, whispering in your ear and Aemond watched as your strength wavered, as contemplation flickered across your face. As all the emotions flashed quickly and disappeared as he continued to urge you to stand down. 

How had his uncle tamed you so well?

How had this man made you so pliable? Aemond found himself more and more jealous of the relationship the two of you had. And the more he looked at you both, so close together, as you had grown into your face, the more he recognised certain features. 

Certain mannerisms. 

And then his uncle was staring him down, as he crowded his niece in front of him, whispering so lowly, that no-one else but the three of you would hear.

“Issa ñuha tala.” (She is my daughter.)

And then it all made sense.

That fire, that rogue air about you.

The way you held no fear around the Prince, the way you did not flinch, and leant into his touch. The way Daemon doted on you more than any of his other children.

You were his. 

You were not a Strong bastard.

You were fire. 

And that made Aemond more determined than ever to have you.

And he would have you.

No matter the cost.

Argh so here it is, a lil blurb of Aemond's POV from 'Smoke, Fire and Ash'. I thought it would be best to show you the beginning of his descent into pure obsession with the reader. Sure there had been a possessiveness from the start as children, but it had been innocent, until the reader came back to the Keep fully grown. The pair truly force each others hand, neither one knowing when to stop and only making things worse. It's beautiful :')

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @marihoneywk @snh96 @sanzu-s

[quitealotofsodapop]

Oddly enough, after learning the reasoning behind Wukong's actions, the Jade Emperor and Queen Mother were both oddly supportive. To a ridiculous degree. It doesn't obsolvef the crimes Wukong did, but it bring a sense of perspective and understanding they hadn't had before. They will never admit it if asked, especially not in public, but a pile of gifts both for Wukong and his baby randomly showed up on FFM one day.

The sudden shift in demeanor def freaks Wukong out. The Jade Emperor... being nice to him? Xiwangmu being darn near doting!? Has the realm gone mad?

The gifts of heavenly peaches (non-immortality-causing, those ones aren't in season yet) and super soft silks are appriciated though.

Wukong gets sort of an answer when "Egg" aka Xiaotian is finally born and different deities come to pay their respects/give their blessings.

The Jade Emperor looms over the Monkey King asks... almost shyly(!?) to hold the baby.

Wukong doesn't want to cus he's super protective of the baby rn, but this seems kinda important to the Emperor so...

The tiny brown fuzzball can rest comfortabley in just one of the Divine Emperor's hands, even when he's in his roughly human-sized form. The size difference is so immense that the Emperor has to lift his hands up to see the baby clearly.

A tiny, toothless yawn comes from the little infant as they stretch themselves awake in the new hold.

Wukong swears on Buddha when he sees the Jade Emperor and Queen Mother start crying.

Then it hits him.

The royal couple have never held any of their grandchildren.

Zhinu's sons were forced into the stars before they could even meet them, the three Li brothers were already grown, and Wukong's unsure that the two know if Redson even exists.

The two gods look upon the chaotic fuzzy monkey cub almost like a surrogate grandbaby.

Macaque and the noodle shop gang are just completely stunned throughout this interaction. Not everyday you see the rulers of the Three Realms cry over a baby monkey.

Xiaotian's eyes finally blink open, revealing rings of newborn blue that fade into star-like yellow-orange.

The Jade Emperor's stoney expression cracks the tiniest smile.

Xiaotian pees on the Emperor's hand.

The room is silent. Even as the Emperor calmly hands Xiaotian backs to their parents for cleaning and hides his befouled limb. The royal couple leave soon after with more wishes of good luck.

With all coasts clear; Wukong just starts cackling with laughter!! Macaque can barely stop himself from laughing as he cleans up the baby and puts them in an actual diaper. Iron Fan makes a bubbling snort in her attempts to hold her laughter in.

Even the mortal friends of the monkeys are snickering. Tang in particular is howling at the similarities to Wukong marking the Buddha's own fingers.

That's the Monkey King's baby all right! Already marking their territory!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"JONES AND KELLY WILL SERVE 36 YEARS IN PRISON," Winnipeg Tribune. June 14, 1912. Page 8. ---- Nineteen Years Extra for Four Men Who Broke Out of Ports- mouth Penitentiary ---- Kingston, Ont., June 14. - Nineteen years were added by Judge Madden to each of the sentences of Frank Jones, Harry Kelly and George Brown, the western desperadoes, who on April 20 escaped from the provincial penitentiary at Portsmouth after assaulting and wounding guards and keepers. The convicts came upyesterday at the court of general session along with Arthur Bonner, the Australian, who came under their influence at Stoney Mountain penitentiary and, became further associated with them at the time of their escape. Bonnar conducted his case with the skill of a lawyer. Jones. when he saw how the Jury acted in the charges against his comrades, put in a plea of guilty and saved the court an hour trying him.

The additional nineteen years means that Jones and Kelly have thirty-six years of prison lite before them, while Brown, the abductor of Gladys Price, will serve twenty-seven years before he will be a free man.

Bonnar made a splendid plea to the judge when he stood up for sentence. He asked for chance to become a useful member of society. Judge Madden was so impressed that, while he gave him the same sentence as the other three men, he informed Bonnar that if he behaved himself well in the prison during the remaining years of his western sentence he would be given an opportunity at the expiration of the seven years to apply for a pardon.

Past Records Frank Jones and Arthur Kelly are the names under which the Macum brothers are known in Winnipeg and they are looked upon by the local police as two of the most daring criminals with which they have had to deal. After committing a series of robberies here they were rounded up in Elmwood by Constable Mackenzio and chased across the river. Cornered in the red light area, they shot W. P Traynor, and later were arrested by several constables headed by Hugh Brown. Traynor laid at the point of death for some days, but ultimately recovered and is now desk sergeant at police headquarters. During the chase after Jones and Kelly between thirty and forty shots were fired at the constables who were unarmed. Shortly after this the police commission decided that all constables must be armed to prevent a similar trouble in the future.

Brown is the man who abducted. Miss Price from the school house near Snowflake. For eight days the Pembine valley was scoured by the settlers who left their work and armed themselves with any weapon on which they could lay their hands. However, despite the vilizance Brown succeeded in stealing food from the Western hotel at Snowflake and disturbed in one of his raids he shot William Adams, the proprietor. Eight days after abducting Miss Price Brown was captured two miles south of the boundary in a house where he had gone for food and shelter.

Bonnar is a horse thief sentenced here on several charges. He made a sensational leap from a train while being brought in for trial and also made several attempts to escape. With such men as Brown, Jones and Kelly he was considered too dangerous to keep in the penitentiary at Stony Mountain so the quartette, heavily shackled, were sent to Kingston, it was while nearing the eastern penitentiary that they made the break for liberty for which they were sentenced today.

[narrators-journal]

Art is all around

So. This is probably my weakest writing. I couldn’t really think of much for a whole scenario? So I just let myself write what came to mind the same way I do Ryomina content. So, this is just a blurb of a scenario. I hope you can find something to enjoy in it regardless tho! I had zero other ideas.

To an extent, Science is an art form in and of itself, y’know? You use the tools you see around you to create and discover new things about the world. Though, of course, science has far more rules, limits, and ethics that surround that discovery and creation, but, Senku still saw the art in his beloved medium of expression.

That being said, he could admit that when it came to entertainment, science wasn’t for everyone. So, he could admit that he needed someone who knew more about the ins and outs of a more acceptable method of creativity. That, was why he stood in front of you now.

The vines and flora tangled around your petrified body to give a sense of colorful, vibrant modesty. A rather fitting way to find you. The leek-haired man thought as he stepped back from your statue, Taiju soon at his side, “Hey, don’t we know this person?” The tall brunette asked, the dvd screen saver almost visible in his brown eyes as it tried to hit the corner of the screen. Yet, Senku waved that thought off pretty easily, “Does that matter? They’re an artist, we need an artist.” “Yeah, but we’ve already got a mangaka to give us art, is this another one?” Taiju asked, quick to follow his smaller friend’s lead as the scientist began to untangle the vines and brambles from your legs. “They’re not a mangaka, but they’re an artist. We need someform of variety, taiju. If there’s only one story-teller, the stories are gonna be a bit repetitive. Like when Disney took over too much stuff and all the movies became basically the same.” He explained as he worked, but the brunette thought for a moment before he responded, “That’s a pretty bleak way to remember movies from our time…” “Taiju.” Senku huffed, his crimson eyes bored as they looked at the well-intentioned work horse. “Right. Not the point.” And, with that, the two finished digging up your statue with a deft dodge of Taiju’s attempt to blind the scientist to preserve your modesty and a splash of the revival fluid.

And, in a heartbeat, the cracks across your stoney skin began to appear. Spread across your body swiftly until, at last, the chunks of rock fell off of your newly made skin. Left behind, was the same ol’ you that Senku had known in school. “Welcome to the new stone age! Hope your art skills stuck around.” The leek chirped at you, Taiju quick to nod along with his own friendly smile. A friendly smile that, didn’t seem to do much to soothe the confusion and fear in your eyes.

Jesus, I know artists are best when they suffer, but please don’t have a breakdown.

[scr-ppup]

[ID/A dark red line with gold lining and a repeating star and half moon pattern./end ID]

Lurensurvilism

[PT/Lurensurvilism/end PT]

Day 7 prompt: The flesh / cannibalism

A Lurkerian sublabel term related to survival and abandon of morale and ethics and cannibalism in the name of survival.

[ID/A rectangular flag of 12 even horizontal stripes. The colors go from top to bottom as dark red, stoney marine blue, dark blue, red, light red, cool brown, light red, red, dark blue, stoney marine blue, and dark red. The center of the flag has symbols that consist of a vector of a eclipse ring and in the center of it is a vector of a steak, the eclipse ring is burnt orange and it's background is dark cool brown with black line art and the stake is colored reddish and pink colors./end ID]

[ID/A dark red line with gold lining and a repeating star and half moon pattern./end ID]

Etymology: luren- + survival + cannibalism

Luren- used as a prefix of Lurkerian.

Requested by none, a coin for @radiomogai 's 1K coining event, albeit a bit late

Taglist: @obscurian @goregeous-archive

[🪦]Please do not tag my neogenders as xenogenders they aren't xenogenders! Kiitos (thank you).

[hottpinkpenguin]

The Way of Winter - Chapter 3

Joel Miller series Female reader insert A/n: takes place at the end of episode 6 (spoilers if you haven't seen!). I took a few liberties with the location. Taglist: @missdragon-1 @this--is--music @caravelofthesun @ishouldclean @mezmerwrites @babypeapoddd @ay0nha @tpwkstiles @one-sweet-gubler @coolninjavoid @ameliabs-world @superflymaterial Word count: 1,715 | Tags: slow burn | Warnings: none

*y/e/c = your eye color*

Joel woke up like he was coming off a nasty bender. He felt dizzy and disoriented, his limbs heavy like lead. He opened his eyes and squinted against a wan, early morning light. He tried to sit up, but the stab of nausea in his gut and an accompanying burn of pain on his right side made him think better of it. He settled for gently turning his head around to take in his unfamiliar surroundings. 

He was in a small, one-room log cabin. An old cast-iron stove sat in the dead center of the cabin on four clawed feet, a long slender chimney climbing up to where it disappeared through the ceiling. Its top was flat - a cooking surface, judging by the soup pot sitting on top of it and steaming merrily. Near the foot of the bed he was in, he saw Ellie, curled up under a thick wool blanket, her brows knitted together even in sleep. Joel felt his chest loosen slightly at the sight of her, apparently unharmed. 

“How do you feel?” The voice startled Joel. He tried to twist towards the speaker, but that same white-hot agony ripped up his entire right side, stealing the breath from his lungs.

Joel laid back against the pillow, trying to regain control of his breathing as he heard footsteps make their way around his right side. He looked over to see a woman crouching down next to him, her y/e/c eyes gliding over him and inventorying his condition with a stoney expression. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but where he knew her hung just out of reach of his mind like the contents of a dream.

“Like shit.” 

The woman’s lip twitched in a half-smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She offered Joel a mug, the comforting smell of bitter coffee tickling his nostrils. 

“Probably should drink water, but you seem like a coffee kind of guy.” Joel took the mug gratefully as he slowly, gingerly, sat up. He moved cautiously, testing each movement as he made it. The pain in his right side ebbed and flowed, but with slow motions he was finally able to prop himself up on an elbow and take a sip of the coffee. It burned his tongue, but the bracing heat felt good. 

After a few sips, Joel began gently prodding the painful point on his right side with his fingers. It hurt too much to turn his head, but he could feel a ragged seam of his skin stitched together with something thick and smooth. His brows knitted in confusion as he tried to remember the last few hours, few days maybe. The woman watched him curiously for a few moments before she stood, moving around him to stir whatever was in the soup pot on the stove.

“You got stabbed, apparently,” she offered. Joel’s memory swam with a few scattered recollections at the woman’s explanation, but he couldn’t force the memories to organize into a story. 

“You stitched me up?” he asked. The woman nodded, her attention on the soup pot. Joel thought he smelled brown sugar. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me til you’re better,” the woman countered as she ladeled what Joel now recognized as oatmeal into three bowls on a counter at the back wall of the cabin. “You lost a lot of blood. You need to rest and let that wound heal up before you and the girl head off.” 

Joel shot a worried look at the chair, where Ellie was still ensconced in sleep. 

“We won’t overstay our welcome, ma’am,” he replied softly. The woman walked over to Joel with two bowls in her hands and offered one to Joel. He set his coffee mug down hastily on the floor next to his cot, breathing in the sweet aroma of the brown sugar mixed into the oats. 

His host walked over to Ellie, shaking her gently in the chair. Ellie woke with a start, her eyes instantly settling on Joel as her face split into a grin.

“Joel, you’re awake!” She nearly leapt off the chair in his direction before the woman’s hand gripped her shoulder. 

“Easy, tiger,” she chided. “If he rips those stitches, you’ll be doing the next round of sewing.” 

Ellie shook off their host’s hand in irritation, her attention fixed on Joel. He returned her bright grin with a close-lipped smile of his own, careful not to show her the half-chewed oatmeal in his mouth.

“You alright?” he asked her after he’d swallowed. 

“I’m fine.” For the second time that day, Joel felt himself relax a little at the confirmation of Ellie’s safety. He nodded, shoveling another spoonful of hot oatmeal into his mouth. The soggy oats didn’t have much taste, but the warmth felt good on his raw throat. The three of them ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. 

“What happened?” Joel asked Ellie after he’d cleaned his bowl. He noticed that the woman was watching him intently from where she leaned against the deep basin sink, her expression inscrutable. The intensity of her gaze made him prickle slightly with a feeling he didn’t quite recognize. 

“You got stabbed,” Ellie mumbled through a mouthful of oatmeal. 

He rolled his eyes at her smart remark. “I meant after that,” he shot back. Ellie shrugged, helping herself to another heaping spoonful. 

“Rode for a while,” she replied vaguely. “You fell off after a while.” 

Joel thought he remembered snippets of being on horseback. Images of the snow-dusted ground drifting by from a few feet above danced in his mind, the gentle bounce of a horse’s gait. He also remembered the feeling of warmth on his back, and two strong arms holding him upright in the saddle. 

“Found you two on the railbed,” the woman chimed in, interrupting his reverie. “Good thing, too. Doubt you would have lasted long in last night’s snow.” 

Joel’s ears pricked at the word snow, his mind suddenly lurching into muted panic.

“It snowed last night?” 

The woman and Ellie nodded in unison. 

“Our tracks… did anyone follow us?” Joel’s mind spun with the possibilities. He couldn’t name exactly who had stabbed him, but there was a nagging sense of danger at the base of his skull that he couldn’t ignore. He saw Ellie’s eyes widen slightly at the thought, her head swiveling to look at the woman who’d rescued them both and brought them - apparently - to her home. She took an easy sip of her coffee, nonchalant. 

“No one’s tracking you,” she replied confidently. 

“How do you know?”

“My dogs would have smelt them.” Joel couldn’t remember any dogs from the day before, but under the aura of terror that had seized him his memories felt even more nonsensical than before. Even so, the knot of dread in his chest loosened slightly at her reply. 

“Thank you for that,” he breathed out, wincing as the motion caused a jab of pain on his right side. 

“Don’t thank me,” the woman replied. “The dogs don’t protect you, they protect me.”

Joel recognized the hardened defenses of a person who’d been fending for themselves - and only themselves - for a long time in the woman’s tone. He nodded in acquiescence.

“Well, I thank you all the same. You’ve been mighty generous with your time and supplies.” 

His words hung in the air like smoke for a few breaths before the woman set her coffee down on the counter suddenly. 

“I got to check on the animals,” she offered. “Bathrooms outside. But don’t go too far. Snow’s deep.” She moved towards the small door nestled in the back corner of the cabin from where Joel’s cot was, throwing on a thick jacket hanging from pegs next to the door. Joel watched as she shimmied into fur-lined boots, zipping the jacket all the way up and throwing up the hood before she opened the door to the cabin. A blast of cold air swept through the cabin and a puff of dust-like snow danced into the warm air of the interior. The woman paused halfway out the door before turning back to look at Joel. The bright morning sunlight dancing off the fresh snow made her eyes look like glowing embers. 

“You should get some rest, Joel. You’re not out of the woods.” Without a backwards glance, she closed the door behind her, the inside of the cabin returning to a hush as her footsteps faded to silence outside.

Joel turned to Ellie. “Where are we?” 

She shrugged, setting her empty bowl down on a cluttered side table atop a stack of books with spines so cracked from use that Joel couldn’t make out the titles. “I don’t know. We rode for about an hour, mostly north on the railbed.”

Joel tried to summon a mental map of the area where they’d last been, but he felt himself sliding down towards sleep. Using his remaining clearheaded consciousness, he turned towards Ellie.

“You need to find a map, figure out where we are. We can’t stay here too long.” The need to get Ellie linked up with the Fireflies burned like a signal fire in Joel’s mind. 

“We aren’t going anywhere until you’re better,” Ellie replied stubbornly. Joel resented the paternal tone in her words. 

“We’ll leave as soon as I can ride,” he growled through gritted teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, Ellie shook her head. 

“I need you to get better, Joel.” Ellie’s voice turned serious and worried. The sound tugged on Joel in a way that frightened him. He turned his head towards her, struggling to keep his eyelids open. 

“We’ll be fine here for a few days,” Ellie replied calmly. She took a sip of coffee, grimacing at the bitterness. “Y/n’s alright. She sewed you up pretty good, after all.” Joel wanted to argue, to press Ellie on what else she knew about their host, but he was hurtling towards sleep. 

“Keep your gun close,” he urged her. Ellie nodded seriously, pulling back the blankets sprawled over her lap to show Joel the pistol he’d gifted her tucked between her knees. He nodded, wishing desperately to do more but eventually giving in to the tug of sleep as he slipped under the edge of exhaustion.

**********

You stepped off the small porch of your cabin into two feet of fresh snow, your legs sinking in up to your knees. The biting cold from the night before had eased somewhat under the light of the morning sun. You plodded your way to the barn, the legs of your jeans soaking through quickly and sending a cold chill up your back. Your entire body felt knotted up and stiff as a board, making your movements lumbering and uncoordinated. 

You swung open the heavy barn door, the damp smell of animal waste assaulting your nostrils. You left the door open for light and fresh air as you stepped inside, slamming the excess snow off your boots by stomping on the hard packed dirt floor. The dogs leapt up from their straw pile bed at the back of the barn, swarming around your ankles and licking your hands in greeting. You greeted each one with a gentle rub on the top of their head, making a mental note to take them out and check the rabbit snares later that day. 

Rambo and the chestnut mare that Joel and the girl had ridden lifted their heads up and over their stall door. You’d penned them in together last night, knowing they’d like the shared body heat in the night’s cold. Both of them were still fully tacked from the night before, and they were both chewing on their bits in frustration. You set to work on removing their bridles first, then their saddles one by one. Your back screamed in protest at the effort of lifting the heavy, double-seated saddle off Joel’s mare’s back and onto the saddle rack in the center of the barn. You noted the fine handiwork of the saddle and the sheen on the newly oiled leather, along with the fully stuffed saddlebags.  

“Seems our new friends are rather well supplied,” you mused quietly to yourself. Rambo’s ears pricked at the sound of your voice and he nuzzled your shoulder affectionately. You smiled, scratching the sides of his head and up behind his ears as his eyes softened. Joel’s mare regarded you warily from the opposite corner of the stall, grateful to be relieved of her tack but unwilling to approach you. 

You set to work on the rest of the barn’s residents: a half dozen chickens, two goats, and five rather scrawny pigs. The chickens hadn’t laid in almost two weeks, and you were disappointed to find their nests empty again this morning. The goats, for their part, gave you almost a full pail of fresh milk. The pigs rutted happily when you emptied the meager helping of your food scraps from the prior week into their trough, although your mind turned sour as you pondered on how you were going to feed an extra two mouths. You made a silent inventory of all the traps you needed to check later that day, cringing when you realized that meant you’d have to get back in the saddle, your seat and thighs already bruised and tender like a brown apple. 

You’d just finished slinging a fresh bale of hay into the horse’s stall when the sharp, staccato pop of gunfire split the quiet, winter morning outside. You startled, almost knocking over the pail of frozen water next to you in the process. Your body hummed with adrenaline as you moved quietly, half crouched, toward the barn door. You grabbed the spare rifle you kept propped against the wall next to the door as you leaned against the doorframe, leaning carefully out into the light and surveying the vast, white expanse in front of you. A few hundred feet away was the cabin where you’d left Joel and the girl, a faint wisp of smoke curling out of the chimney in the center: a dead giveaway that there was someone inside. 

Another chorus of pop’s drew your attention up the slope on the other side of the cabin to the treeline at the top of the ridge where a handful of dark shapes swam into view. You squinted against the bright light as you pulled the cocking lever on the rifle gently, a soft click of the cold metal indicating the weapon’s readiness. You lifted the rifle up to your shooting eye, closing the other and aiming the gun’s muzzle up towards the dark shapes. Through the gun’s scope, you counted seven mounted riders bobbing through the sparse woods that ran along the ridge’s spine. For a half second, you wondered if Joel’s fears had come true and someone had managed to track you, although in the next instant you realized these riders were coming from the opposite direction. A coincidence, you realized. They’d probably ended up here by accident, gotten disoriented in the snow storm maybe. You couldn’t imagine where they were from, although that hardly mattered now. All that mattered was that they would pass you by without incident. 

You followed their progress in your scope, a few more pop’s announcing their presence. The lead riders seemed to be shooting at something on the ground, jerking their horses in haphazard zigzagging patterns, pursuing a prey you couldn’t see. None of them so much as lifted their heads in the direction of your cabin, and for a few tense moments it seemed that luck would be in your favor. 

All but one of the riders had disappeared over the opposite edge of the ridgeline when the last one suddenly turned their head in the direction of your cabin. Shit. Your heart dropped in your chest.

“Keep on riding, pal,” you urged the distant figure. “Not today. Not this. Not now.” 

As if in spite of your wishes, you watched as the rider reigned their horse up sharply, their eyes fixed on your cabin in the middle of the freshly snow-coated field, its chimney merrily smoking like a calling card. The rider whistled to his comrades: sharp and high and shrill, but faint at this distance. A few moments later, the others came back into view. You watched as the riders exchanged a few words, gesturing wildly back and forth amongst themselves. For another fraught moment, you dared to hope that they might decide to pass your place by, even after spotting it. 

Your heart fell out of the bottom of your feet when the group all reigned their horses around in unison and kicked off into a trot down the slope in the direction of your cabin. You wondered if Joel and the girl had seen them yet. Although he had the steely composure of a man who’d seen his fair share of tight spots, you doubted Joel would be much use in a gunfight in his condition. 

Knowing what you had to do, you took a deep breath in as you steadied your shooting arm, lining up the frontmost rider in your sights. You let out an even, slow breath as you squeezed the trigger, the deafening shot shattering the peacefulness of a bright morning light on new snow…

**read chapter 4 here let me know if you'd like to be tagged if you like this series, check out my Joel Miller masterlist for other works