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zenkindoflove · 6 days

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Elucien Parallels: Eddard and Catelyn Stark's Arranged Marriage/Marriage of Convenience Trope

I'm back again with more ACOTAR and ASOIAF/GOT parallels. You can go read this post where I breakdown my thoughts on comparing Elain Archeron and Sansa Stark as representing similar character archetypes in fantasy.

Today I want to talk about one of my favorite ASOIAF/GOT ships - Ned and Cat. What I want to do with this post is sort of breakdown the dynamics of their relationship and story arc and apply it to some common criticisms of Elucien and why in order to get the kind of tension Elucien have in canon, you need to have an understanding of how this particular trope works and the way these types of characters inhabit it.

So, a quick rundown on Ned and Cat and their relationship, just to get anyone reading this up to speed. Catelyn Tully was betrothed to Brandon Stark, Ned's older brother. Their betrothal represented a political alliance between the Starks of Winterfell and the Tullys of Riverrun - the liege lords of their respective regions. Despite being betrothed for political reasons, Catelyn fell deeply in love with Brandon anyways. And when he was tragically murdered by the Mad King, alongside his father, she was heart broken. Enters Ned, now the Lord of Winterfell, who has to secure this political alliance because he is about to wage a rebellion alongside his friend Robert Baratheon against the Targaryens. It makes perfect sense for him to marry his brother's betrothed. Ned and Cat get married quickly and off to war he went. When he returned a year later, he brought home his bastard, Jon Snow. He and Cat now have to figure out their marriage on top of not only being effectively strangers, but also with this betrayal looming over their relationship. When we enter the story of Game of Thrones, they have 5 children, the oldest Robb who was conceived just before Ned left for war, is 16. Cat and Ned are very much in love, showing open affection and devotion to each other. Cat is quoted later in the series telling her son Robb (show canon):

"Love didn't just happen to us. We built it slowly over the years, stone by stone, for you, for your brothers and sisters, for all of us. It's not as exciting as secret passion in the woods, but it is stronger."

Okay, so where does Elucien come into all of this and why should you care if you ship them?

Well, I think Cat and Ned's story illustrates a lot of things and disproves many doubts that are thrown at Elucien being endgame.

Betrayal

First is this issue of betrayal - that Lucien's involvement with Tamlin and his inevitable association with the situation in Hybern (though he did not know the extent of the deal with Hybern nor at all that Feyre's sisters had been kidnapped) will be such a huge breach of trust that Elain will never be able to get over it. That the relationship is dead before it even started.

Ned and Cat are a perfect example of how many anti-Eluciens are wrong when they think that Elucien are essentially dead before they start. By bringing home Jon Snow and raising him in his home amongst his trueborn children, Ned inflicted a huge betrayal onto his wife before they ever truly started their relationship. Although, at least in show canon, we know this ends up being quite a noble lie by Ned, this is never something that he reveals to Cat. So, Cat must swallow her pride and her jealousy and continue to be Ned's wife. This does not mean she has to fall in love with him, as it is not expected of her to, but she does all the same. Why? Because of Ned's inherent goodness and devotion to her. Cat sees that Ned is a good, honorable man - which is why she ultimately believes the rumors that Jon must be Ashara Dayne's son and that he is a love-child that Ned cannot bear to abandon. Because as she comes to know Ned, she sees his heart and his moral standing.

Which is all to say, that regardless of whether Elain begins her journey angry and blaming Lucien for association with her being Made and the end of her engagement, by getting to know him and spending time with him, she too will be able to see Lucien's inherent goodness. It is unavoidable and undeniable. Lucien, much like Ned, is honorable, loyal, and stands up to the face of evil, even if it will stupidly get him killed. He takes ownership over the people in the lands he runs and cares for that responsibility and their well being deeply. He commits violence when he must but he does not enjoy it. These are all traits that suited Cat well and why she ended up having such a loving marriage to Ned through many, many years. And likewise, suit Elain well and why she and Lucien will have a healthy and loving mating bond.

Reluctant Tension

Many anti-Eluciens do not understand the romantic tension presented in their situation. They see their distance, polite exchanges, and reactions as a sign of indifference or discomfort. It is a far cry from the explosive anger and deliberate pushing away that Nesta displayed with Cassian. Sometimes it's easier to understand Nessian's romantic tension because passion can exist both in anger and desire. But what about the stilted interactions of Elucien?

This is also where I will draw parallels to Ned and Cat. Ned and Cat did not go to the alter kicking and screaming. They were not political rivals or enemies. Catelyn did her duty with her head held high, living her house words (Family, Duty, Honor). Catelyn is often described as the picture of a noble lady - well-mannered, kind, diligent, dutiful, and respected. She held a high place of honor at Riverrun, effectively serving as Lady of the house after her mother's passing at a young age, and then taking over the role of Lady of Winterfell. She earned loyalty and respect amongst her subjects. We don't know much about the dynamic of Ned and Cat at the early days of their relationship. But what we can infer based on how Cat describes this time period, is that Cat hid her reluctance and anger behind silent pride. It was over time, as she grew to know Ned that this distrust and distance was thawed and she fell in love with him.

Similarly, Ned is not a hot head. He is grounded and stone-faced, a trait that Cat actually did not like initially because it was so different from his brother who she was in passionate love with. Brandon was a hot-head, charming, and funny. He was a showboat and is basically how he came to duel Petyr Baelish in the first place. But Catelyn eventually realizes the wisdom in loving a man like Ned, rather than the girlish love she had for Brandon.

Now Elain and Lucien are not mirror images of this. Lucien is certainly much more savvy and charming than Ned. And Elain is not forced into a romantic relationship with Lucien at all even with the mating bond. She has been given total freedom to choose, unlike Cat. But, my point here is that the presentation of their romantic tension, which is more quiet and understated and can confuse some readers who have a preference for the more passionate displays of tension, is very similar to Ned and Cat in the beginning of their relationship.

Now, as we learn both in the books and the show, Cat and Ned at the start of the series are well into their 16+ year marriage and are quite passionate now. They have many loving physical displays with one another, often passionately kissing or referencing passionate lovemaking they just had. They speak to each other with such warm affection others have to look away. It is clear they have deep love for each other that goes beyond duty. The passion certainly developed between them along the way. With Elucien I'm sure this will play out much differently given the presentation of the mating bond and how we know it affects people. It's very likely both of them are deeply desiring each other already, and very likely that they will have some dramatic rows between them, as it is likely Ned and Cat had as well, once they start really talking about the hard topics. But the point is that passion and the potential for passion does not have to be readily observable right from the start. If anything, there is something very delicious in the steady build-up to it through many of the tropes we see in historical romances where there are rules and etiquette to courtship (which many suspect Elucien will play with some regency era tropes).

Conclusion:

I really love finding parallels between ships of my favorite series, and there is of course a lot to draw from when its two fantasy series. In the end, my bigger point is that great love can come from Arranged Marriage/Marriage of Convenience Tropes which Elucien inhabit with the nature of their bond snapping right when they met. It's not for everyone, but for those of us who get it... we really get it. Fortunately for us, Elucien exist in a romance with HEAs and not the world of ASOIAF/GOT so they won't meet the same tragic fates as Ned and Cat *sobs*.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #ned x cat #elucien supremacy #will i stop making these?#probably not #i was in got fandom for too long and these will keep popping in my brain

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whoops-thats-on-fire · 3 months

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get to know you better game! answer the questions and tag 9 people you want to know better.

tagged by: @abigail-pent

last song I listened to: I listen to music all the time, currently listening to Black Moon Rising by Falconer, really solid power metal group, one of the folks I'd suggest for people interested in checking out power metal. I'd also suggest Orden Organ and Sabaton, also solid groups with a sound I think is like peak power metal.

currently reading: I'm actually not often currently reading things, I'm a fairly quick reader, so I'm done with most things in a couple days. There's a couple of ways of splitting this, and since it is a get to know you thing, I'll just do them all. Book - The Rithmatist by Brandon Sanderson - I've been meaning to read this one for ages but it was never available at the library (and going to the bookstore is Dangerous) until I checked on a whim and the ebook was available so I said fuck it. Webcomic - I read all of the Sword Interval last night, it was very good, fucks big time. It's got that urban fantasy shit, which I go ham for. Fanfic - Synovus by Wingedcat13 is currently open in one of my many chrome tabs for a reread, although I haven't started that yet. I should start that reread soon. Strong recommend for fans of superheroes/superpowers and queer stuff and shit. I really love that series it clicks so much in my brain.

currently watching: I've been watching miraculous ladybug with my best friend and every once in a while sitting down for mha w/ my partner. I don't really watch much on my own aside from like, hockey. I really should watch and read more, being the main writer and host of a podcast about writing and fanfic, but uh, undergrad be like that.

currently obsessed with: unfortunately, miraculous ladybug (again). That and hockey. One of my friends wrote a hockey au a while back and there was so much passion for the sport in it, I decided to check it out last year. And uh, now I have way too many seattle kraken jerseys. Okay I feel a little cheap saying the same thing twice so uh I've also been playing far too much rainbow 6 siege for my own good (this is any amount of rainbow) and trying very hard to not think about the multiple papers I'm attempting to get published this semester.

tagging @abyss-gazing-for-fun @viridianriver @quthar @zabouncer @grimmpositivity @rileythefool @littleshitsofthefourthdimension @whatapictureisworth @ace-disgrace-on-the-case

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souredfigs · 5 months

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Every once in a while , I think of the Stark Children , I think of Sansa surrounded by enemies left right and centre , with no way to freedom except death , like steel she has been beaten down and molded by those around her , but she does not break , instead she hopes and struggles to survive, and she may have a new name now , and with that new name she's forged a new person , but deep down she knows some remnants of Sansa Stark , although blurry , are still visible to her . But she keeps Sansa Stark to herself and herself alone , to the rest of the world she is still Alyane Stone .

I think of Arya , Arya who tries so hard not to lose a part of herself in the dark echoey chambers of the house of black and white .Arya who has hidden needle under the stones of the beach for it is the only thing that is left of her family . Arya , who with every deep breath , tries to reach across the memories of Jon , Ned , Catelyn , Sansa , Rickon , Robb and Bran . Arya who despite all that she has seen in her short life , tries to do good in every capacity. Who burns and burns for the desire of Justice in a world where justice is as rare as the valyrian steel that noble families keep tucked away in their treasures.

I think of Rickon and how alone he must feel , how he feels lucky that he doged death after all this time. I think of the pain and dread he must feel to be on the other side of the world , having lost all and any connection to his home.

I think of Brandon , trying to echo through a wool of time , reaching out his hand in the foggy winter winds for ghosts and ancestors long gone .

I think of Jon lying on the snow, his warm blood turning colder and colder as it touches the ice , and how the last thing he whispers is the last of the family he has with him , as his soul leaves his body .

#ahahaah #im crying rn as i type this #please i love them so much #they mean a lot to me #stark children have a very soft spot in my heart #vampy screams about asoiaf and yearns for winds of winter #sansa stark #ned stark #arya stark #jon snow #robb stark #rickon stark #brandon stark #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #dance of the dragons #stark children

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s1ater · 2 years

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promise me nothing.

pairings. steve harrington x fem!reader

about. steve and you cross paths, only for him to find out some bad news about you.

warnings. foul language, s4 spoilers sorta

ricky rocks. anotha one 😼🙌 also part two or nah?

“long time, no see, harrington,” you nod as you pass him before looking up and unintentionally connecting eyes with five other people at once. “and children…”

you nod again in acknowledgement, getting a good look at them all before making a move to walk away from the car they were all huddled around, but steve grabs your arm, “hey, what’s going on?”

“i don’t know what you mean.”

he rolls his eyes, still holding your bicep firmly. he tips his head toward the swarm of law enforcement in the front of a house before raising a brow, “you’re telling me this is nothing?”

“just about.”

“y/n.”

“what?”

“i think we need to talk.”

you and steve go back; way back since pre-school days, and although neither of you were ever truly close, there was a mutual understanding that you both had each other’s backs.

you both came from similar backgrounds; life set up since day one, given nice cars, lived in nice houses, and grew up in the hawkins country club aspect for loser adults trying to relive high school popularity by flaunting money.

and you were only tied more together by the strange and abnormal encounters and fights for life against the sci-fi creatures that had no faces and were covered from head to toe in slime—that eventually turned into something way bigger than the mind could fathom.

ever since the mall fire during the summer after senior year, you hadn’t seen steve or any of his nerd posse—till now.

you almost thought you were seeing things, but then again, you should have guessed that when anything remotely strange or out of the normal happened in hawkins, they’d always turn up, immediately on the case.

just never this fast.

“i think i’m dying.”

“what?”

you stood in front of steve, nancy, robin, and three of his freshman friends. their presence made you suddenly anxious and you couldn’t help but begin to talk out of your ass as you slightly paced back and forth in your parents living room.

how steve coaxed you into talking to them—you weren’t sure—but it didn’t take long and it seemed you were almost more than willing to allow them into your home by the way you so easily opened your front door and offered snacks and refreshments.

yep, you were definitely dying.

they watched you with sudden concerned and confused looks, not knowing what to say and not expecting you to throw them this type of curve ball.

“brandon,” you mumbled, your hands shaking out in front of you. “jesus, i can’t even think straight…” you place your hand on your forehead, thinking over whether or not you should ever be speaking right then. “he’s dead.”

“who’s brandon?” dustin glances around to everyone but you, afraid to make eye contact almost.

“her boyfriend,” steve whispers, speaking as if you can’t hear them. and you almost couldn’t.

“i can’t even-i don’t even know-“

“hey, hey,” steve stops you in your tracks of speaking, sitting up from the chair he previously sat in. “you don’t have to say anything right now, just breathe. sit down.”

steve liked you, a lot. like, since day one, even as kids, he couldn’t get you out of his mind.

there was just something about you. you had a good head on your shoulders, you knew what you wanted, you didn’t let anything or anyone knock you off your feet, and you didn’t need anyone to save you. he hated that fact—the fact that you didn’t need him and he hated that sometimes it seemed you weren’t anything more than acquaintance.

“sit down,” he pulled you by the arm till you were close enough for him to place a hand on your waist, carefully guiding you to the chair he was previously in, giving you a soft look. “just breathe for a moment, alright?”

everyone glanced to each other at the gesture, almost not believing it. they looked to steve now where he stood in your place, his hand stroking his chin in thought, “i think it’s time we call in your pal eddie.”

it seemed you were in and out of sensibility as you thought over the past 24 hours, not believing it was real. you felt crazy, not being able to keep a stable thought in your head for more than a minute before turning into an emotional mess.

steve knew you weren’t in your right mind, especially after you let eddie into your home without a second thought. he didn’t think you even processed that moment or even realized what you were doing until—

“who are you?”

something you asked twenty minutes after he had been in your home.

“i’m eddie.”

“i think i know you.”

“well i hope so since we’ve been in school together since middle school before you graduated.”

“right,” you narrowed your brows, but didn’t say anything else, not knowing what to even make of him.

you knew eddie, but he was never someone you had ever talked to or had any interactions with. you didn’t care for him; you found him obnoxious and practically repulsing when you were still in school together—but right now, by the way he was looking at you—you didn’t mind him at all.

his expression was soft and full of sympathy, like he understood what was going through your mind and why you seemed so…bipolar in emotions.

“y/n, eddie’s here to talk.”

“why?”

“because what happened to you, is exactly what happened to him.”

you still had narrowed brows as you stared at him, not knowing what to say. there was a small proportion of recognition that struck you when you stared at eddie, not nearly enough for you to trust him, nor enough for you to spill your guts out to him about how your boyfriend was practically castrated right in front of your eyes.

“you’re afraid?”

you slowly nodded your head, eyes wide, not understanding the willingness that has suddenly taken over you, “yes.”

he nods and you feel the need to continue to explain yourself.

“i can’t get that image out of my head. god, i don’t even know if it was…”

“real?”

“yeah.”

he nods again.

“you said you think you’re dying, why?” he sat right across from you on your carpeted floor, now eyeing you carefully with the same cautiousness you had in your own pupils.

“because… the things that were happening to brandon before he was fucking possessed… are happening to me.”

“what do you mean,” he starred at you strangely now, his head slightly tipping, watching you carefully just as the rest of them did.

“the bloodied noses, the nightmares, the headaches, that noise…” you cringed as you spoke, almost shying away from saying more.

“what noise?” robin was leaned forward on her knees, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“a clock.”

it seemed right as you said it, the sound echoed through the room and the lights begun to flicker till there was no light at all and the only breathing body was you.

“you’re fucking kidding me,” your head lifted toward the hallway that opened up to your living room; exactly where the noise was coming from.

this had only happened once before; the first day you had come back from college while you were throwing up in your childhood bathroom. you couldn’t figure it out, you had never been sick before—not like that, but then suddenly your world turned dark and the sound of that damned clock was one of the only things you could hear.

you got to your feet slowly, continuing to stare into the dark as the sound echoed throughout your now empty home. the sound was jarring and something about it made you want to follow it like the last time. you were losing your mind, you had to get out of there.

you turned, only for your body to match right up against an unintelligible one. one much larger than your own.

your eyes went wide immediately, feeling a scream rip through your throat as fear set in fast and your head tipped to see such a haunting face you had never seen before.

“hello, y/n,” it looked like it smiled, examining your frightened state, taking pleasure in it, as you stared back in a paralyzed state. “your time is running thin,” it took a step forward, closer and closer. “you will soon be mine.”

you back peddle, fast, not thinking, not processing, but soon landing on your ass and back into the light where you sat in the same place before but with a pair of hands on your face, with voices yelling and screaming you back to conscious.

you were in shock, your limbs were numb and you could barely keep yourself up in a sitting position. you were breathing hard like you had been holding your breath for the past minute, practically dry heaving, feeling your stomach fold up into itself in terror.

“what happened?” steve’s face was the only thing your could see as his hands clasped your face hard, his nose practically touching yours as he stared at you wide-eyed, dipped in fear.

you stared back, feeling every nerve slowly come back to life within your body—drawing out into a painful process. your body begun to shake, tears flooding into the corners of your eyes as you couldn’t even begin to process the switch between realities.

“steve, get out of her face, she’s going to throw up!” robin was yanking at his shoulder despite his constant persistence, clinging to your body.

“are you okay?”

everyone stood around you, wide eyes, wide with fear, wide with concern.

“are you okay?”

“what happened?”

“i was here, and then i wasn’t, but it’s like nothing changed other than you all being gone,” you stood now, guiding them all through the process of your episode, now that you could finally process what had just happened. “it was that sound, that fucking clock sound, and i turned and it was something, like something you’d see out of a fucking movie, like the weird alien-monster things we’ve seen before. i don’t know—”

“vecna.”

“what?”

“she saw vecna,” dustin looks between everyone who all have seemed to agree with this consolation.

“will someone please translate what he just said?”

“vecna,” steve repeated, glancing up to you from the sudden heavy gloom laid upon him. “he’s the reason everyone’s been dying lately, you see him, you’re in an automatic death sentence… but you already knew that…”

you starred at him in disbelief, your eyes switching between each teen that sat on your couch, as if asking whether that was true or not, but they all avoided eye contact--which spoke louder than words.

“you’re fucking with me,” you scoffed, turning on your heal and beginning to pace. “of fucking course.”

“you don’t seemed so… terrified about this anymore,” max is quick to elbow lucas in the ribs who winces.

you ignore it, suddenly annoyed at the swift depressive mood change, “how do we kill this motherfucker?”

“you’re not giving up on me, are you steve?”

“of course not.”

the two of you stood on your back porch after steve had lightly pulled you by the elbow, recommending catching some fresh air.

you don’t believe his words. he seemed tired with almost the look of sadness in his eyes. this observation causes you to frown as you tip your head, slightly coming closer to steve to look at him better, “then why does it look like you’re the one dying and not me?”

he scoffs, “y/n.” he gets taller, straightening his posture from where he was previously leaned on your railing. he turns even more serious and it makes you frown. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“what difference would it have made?”

“we could have caught it earlier.”

“and be in the same position as we are in now?”

he doesn’t say anything, but still stares at you with a look that makes your chest tighten and your skin begin to flare up in heat.

and then, “i’m sorry about brandon.”

he wasn’t. he never liked him.

“i’m sorry you had to go through that,” he takes a step closer to you, his hand now clasping your arm. “we’re going to figure this out, i promise.”

“don’t promise me anything, stevie,” your hand softly caressed his cheek, giving him a thinned lip smile before walking inside, leaving him to himself outside.

navigation.

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swordsandarms · 2 months

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how would you describe the dynamic between aerys and rhaegar?? no matter what rhaegar was aerys's first and only child for a long time, and tbh i kinda love to delude myself thinking aerys loved him almost as much as he hated? him.....

Wrote about this before, but of course I can't find it, but since it's rarely given enough complexity anyways, might as well do it again.

This is the endless problem of not allowing Targaryens the right to be more than one dimensional and have complicated human feelings and Aerys is probably the sorest spot for it. A lot of people are finally backing down on the weird dehumanisation of Rhaegar, thankfully, but Aerys less so, as he is a big problem even for "Targaryen fans" - he is the sole Targaryen called fully "mad" - that can be acknowledged as that absolute sort of mentally unstable, and in a violent way that can be fully antagonistic, too - bringing that whole can of worms used against a whole 300 years worth of generations of a family, so everyone stays away.

Here comes the tired disclaimer that of course I've got to put out over and over before writing of Aerys as a mere person instead of a fairytale boogieman: he wasn't a good guy with particular virtues; he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed; he wasn't a proactive, great King, and although he spoke of great plans that sounded sound didn't put in the effort to accomplish anything; he wasn't a good father and least of all husband for most of his life, even in his better days with less excuses (well, explanation) to it. Etc etc

But he had the complexity of feelings and behaviour of a whole person! I've said it before but Aerys is one of these background characters dead before the story starts that gets TONS of interiority that adds so much nuance to this otherwise muddled portion of history, but he's not a "nice dead victim" and hence gets little attention while less "lesser" background characters get essays of made up fanon.

Aerys' desire for both successful lineage and grandeur for his House clashing with his deep personal insecurities is more of a downward spiral than his actual mental illness. (Again, something I touched on in a different post that Tumblr won't let me find) Aerys wants and fails to be anything grand, and Rhaegar being seen as great while being nothing like him is a sour spot, because if greatness is his opposition what does that mean? Of course he latches onto Viserys when it's clear he's got his character.

But what about Rhaegar? Did Aerys love him? Did Rhaegar love his father once? He was his prized heir in a positive sense for the longest of their relationship. He kept him close in detriment of his mother's claim on him (took him to Casterly Rock for a year when Joanna died). But does that necessarily say anything about love?

This is the man who would end up hurting his sister, who would be open about the intention to wish bad things upon his child, but he's also grieved these children with his sister once, he's turned to the gods humbled despite his self righteous arrogance, asking if it's him, if he can do anything to make it better.

And, in his madness, Aerys kills Brandon and Rickard for "threatening Rhaegar". Which is fascinating. I've been trying to think of whether he is trying to put Rhaegar in a worse position by it, but it doesn't work. If it were the case, he'd be glad to latch onto the accusations and make the best of it, instead of becoming the bad guy further by "protecting Rhaegar". If he weren't able to think that straight, at least his advisors would (he's got plenty of "whisperers" in his ears, we are told, and they are against Rhaegar's faction). But if they tried, but if they tried it's clear the "he threatened Rhaegar" convoluted thought won.

And I joke about the Rhaenys moment supposedly being the breaking point in Aerys and Rhaegar's relationship from his point of view (of all things) but... With these powerful families, the personal and political are in a constant clash. Yet it is quite something that political tensions are all high ("like before the Dance"), Aerys' undermining and threatening Rhaegar's position is open knowledge, and yet, what gets to Rhaegar finally is his father rejects his child - rejects family.

Was there only honour and "doing things right" in lieu of kinslaying? Was there a reason why it was hard to give up on his father and admit to himself he wasn't salvageable in any lesser ways until it's too late?

And oh, he was ever so aggravated by Rhaegar being so good at things and admired for it, but when he dies in battle... There surely must be some conspiracy, some betrayal for his shining son to be gone. Rhaegar himself wouldn't just be bested without a better explanation! Someone ought to answer for it, damnit!

#asoiaf #rhaegar targaryen #aerys targaryen #house targaryen

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stratossphere · 11 months

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i am BEGGING for ville x tattoo artist reader . porn w plot or sm like he fucks reader after a few sessions and reader thinks he hates her but he’s frustrated or whatever IDKKKKKK

ink | v.v

the problem client has a thing for his artist.

warnings: smut, fem!reader, fingering, protected sex, reader has a hand over her mouth, just people being straight up horny

word count: 7.4k

a/n: this took me such a long time but i’m proud of it :) also once again i appreciate all of your genius ideas

tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @4377666 @althaiascure

— —

Fuck. He was coming again.

You were always happy to take on new clients. You really were. But ever since Ville Valo's usual artist had moved and holed himself away what seemed to be for good, you'd been stuck with his bitchiest client.

Ville was...interesting. Not horrible, per se, like some of your clients definitely were, but he was certainly one of the nitpickers. It had been a while since you'd last seen him, and the last time he'd been in was to get some chick's name tattooed on his chest (or at least you'd assumed, considering he'd refused to tell you what 'Mäy' was), but even then he'd complained and spent the whole time watching you work meticulously.

And yet, despite the nitpicking, here he was back for more.

You would've been lying if you said you might've been a little nervous not because he was picky, but because he was really fucking hot. Obviously, bitchy attitude or not, you couldn't deny that he was attractive, and the ones with an attitude were definitely your type. But you'd literally been tattooing a name on him, so you'd held back on any of those thoughts.

But holding back on those thoughts became a lot harder when you saw him walk into the shop from where you were cleaning up your studio from your last tattoo. His hair had grown considerably, he looked a lot healthier than the last time you'd seen him, and he still had that unimpressed frown on his face as he talked to your receptionist. You leaned back in your stool so that he could see you from where he was standing, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over and noticed you were there.

"Wow. I almost forgot you existed." You said truthfully, smiling as he came around to step into your studio. Considering his original tattoo artist had worked with you, you had seen him a lot back in the day when he had been filling up quickly on tattoos after he'd started with his wrist. Albeit, you'd never actually talked to him before his first tattoo with you, but you'd known him and he'd known you regardless.

"Yes. Hello to you too." He said dryly, waving a piece of paper in his hand as he shut the door of your studio behind him after stepping fully into the room. "I'm getting a coverup."

"Which one?" You were warily eyeing both the half-sleeve of portraits he had on one arm and the full sleeve he had on the other, because covering up either of those sounded extremely unappealing considering how dark the ink work was on both. He chuckled lowly as you pushed back in your stool to let him sit down in the chair.

"The last one you gave me." He admitted, handing over the piece of paper in his hand when you offered your hand out for it. It was a picture of a woman, and you were satisfied at getting the chance to do another portrait. He seemed to have an addiction to them, considering that every time you saw him, he always came back with more.

"Shit. Was my handwriting bad?" You joked, consciously aware of how long this tattoo was going to take, and additionally how long that meant you'd be around him shirtless. You were really trying to harness maturity here, but you couldn't be held responsible for what occurred inside your own brain. Although, with eyes as intense as his, you weren't sure he couldn't see right inside with you.

"No, it was acceptable. Things just change, and I'm a new man these days." Ville said calmly as he watched you get started on his stencil, his fingers drumming in a concise rhythm on the arm of the chair as he spoke. You shot him a knowing look.

"So I was right. It was a girlfriend's name." You'd been trying to guess the last time he'd been in the shop, but he hadn't even given you a hint. He'd originally said that it was not his girlfriend's name, but now it was pretty obvious that there was no way he had been telling the truth. He paused for a second, sighing softly.

"Not exactly." Once again, very vague. You rolled your eyes because you knew he couldn't see, laughing softly to yourself.

"One time, I tattooed a guy's name as a tramp stamp on a client, and then the next day her boyfriend came in screaming in my face because I tattooed his brother's name on his girlfriend." You revealed conversationally, knowing that if you didn't say something, Ville would be perfectly fine with letting the room fall into dead silence for the entire predicted four hours he'd be in your chair. He had been the client infamous for bringing handfuls of CDs to every single one of his appointments and blasting them loud enough to fill every single studio on the shop before he'd been dumped on you, but you had a feeling he refused to do so with you because he thought you wouldn't like the same music. Which meant you were stuck with his hatred for conversation.

"That feels pointed." Ville muttered, tilting his head to shoot you a look just as you glanced over at him. You snorted, busying yourself fully with the stencil so that you could avoid that intense gaze.

"It might've been. I don't know. I like to get at least a little bit of interesting information out of my clients once in a while." You said coyly, hearing the sound of his fingers picking up pace where they were still drumming on the arm of his chair. He paused for another moment, and when you glanced up to see if he was ignoring you, you were once again met with his startlingly-green eyes. He sucked his teeth.

"You're not going to like the story. No women do." He said very presumptuously, looking away from you with disinterest and instead leaning back in the chair slightly to look up at the ceiling. Once again, because he wasn't looking at you, you rolled your eyes.

"I've tattooed ballsacks, assholes, and dicks. I'm sure your story won't get me too bad." You said dryly, finishing up the stencil before you slid away from your desk and over to his chair to present it to him. "Look okay?"

"Yeah. Looks great." As he said it, Ville looked like he was trying to decide whether or not to actually tell you the story he was dancing around, and you were really trying to remain professional and not laugh as you watched him do so.

"Alright. Take off your shirt, and you can tell me the horrific story while I put this on." You instructed, remembering that the 'not' name was tattooed on the right side of his chest. He stood up to shrug off his jacket then, and you noticed he was looking at you curiously.

"You've really tattooed a dick?" He didn't sound like he believed you. You nodded, focusing your mind fully on the conversation at hand so that it didn't wander too far on the sight of him starting to pull his shirt over his head. When his head was blocked by the shirt and he couldn't see you, however, you let your eyes linger on the symbol tattooed on his lower stomach momentarily.

"Yep. And it was a cross, too." You muttered, shaking your head as you remembered how that appointment had gone. Every time you started to feel down about how difficult Ville sometimes made his appointments with you, you remembered those times and immediately started to feel a lot better. That pulled a slight chuckle out of him (only slight, mind you) as he tossed his shirt and jacket onto the chair meant for people tagging along against the wall.

"Well, I suppose you won't be too offended, then." He surmised, sitting back down in the chair in front of you with his top half now bare. You were always amazed with how well-sculpted his torso was considering you'd seen him drink enough to kill a medium-sized child in all the times he'd been inside the shop. "It is a name, but not of a person. It's uh...named after my ex-girlfriend's uh...you know. Private area, so to speak."

Okay. That did take you aback a little bit. You certainly didn't let it show, however, and only raised your eyebrows as you gingerly began to lay out the stencil over his chest and over the last tattoo you had done for him.

"Huh. Never would've guessed that one." You shot him an amused look, but he only looked surprised that you'd taken it so well. You silently wondered what kind of conservative nuns he'd been telling that story to. "Why 'Mäy', then?"

"Now I'm just going to sound stupid." He mused, lifting his arm above his head so that you could get a better angle on applying the stencil. God, he smelled good...

"Once again, a cross on a dick. You can't get much stupider." You repeated with reassurance, peeling the stencil and then inspecting the placement with satisfaction. You then pointed to the mirror across from the chair. "You can go check and make sure you like where it is."

"You know the American show SpongeBob, yes?" He asked absentmindedly as he got up to look at himself in the mirror, narrowing his eyes as he looked over his reflection. You were praying that he liked the placement, because you really felt as if it was in the best place for the shape of his chest.

"Yeah. My nephew watches that show all the time." You said, completely unsure of where he was going with this story as you waited for the verdict on whether or not he liked the stencil placement. "Look okay?"

"Do you think it does? I want the darkest part over the name." That surprised you. He was asking you instead of forcing you to bend to his bottomless pit of adjustments and requests. You motioned for him to come back, then narrowed your eyes at the stencil to make sure that the part where you would be putting the darkest parts of ink was covering the name. It was.

"Yeah. That'll cover it up completely." You nodded, moving out of the way to let him get back into the chair for the last time before you actually began to put the needle to his skin. "SpongeBob?"

"Oh, yeah. It's uh...well, you know, it's a kid's show, but it's damn funny. And there's a snail on that show that meows." Ville explained, motioning his hands animatedly as you set up your gun and the ink you would be using while you reclined the chair back so that he was laying down at the best angle for you to tattoo him.

"I vaguely remember that, yeah." Now you had even less of an idea where he was going with this story. His explanation still didn’t feel like a viable reason to allow him to call someone’s intimate areas the name of a snail.

"Well, when he meows, it sounds just like 'Mäy' in Finnish. Which doesn't really mean anything, so I kind of just made it into a nickname." He must've been able to see the bewildered look on your face, because he really sounded like he was trying to prove a solid reason for getting such a strange thing tattooed on himself. "That, or Gary, which is the snail's name."

"You called her pussy Gary?" You couldn't help yourself from blurting that out bluntly out of genuine shock, and you immediately winced. "Sorry. That was a bad way of saying that."

"No, no. That's about the best reaction I've gotten, actually." He muttered, shaking his head as he clearly thought about it. "It was a dumb thing to do, and I told every single person that asked me, so it's my own fault."

"Well, I'm glad I was apart of your terrible decision. And I'm glad you got Mäy tattooed instead of Gary." You snickered, letting your hand rest on his chest with your tattoo gun now buzzing in your hand. "You ready?"

"Stick it in."

For once, Ville actually seemed to be in the mood to talk, but for most of the appointment, it was vague answers and a mostly-uninterested tone. In all honesty, you were kind of bored with the man everyone claimed to be one of the most interesting on the planet.

So, when the tattoo was done, you were a little relieved. Sure, you were a fan of the fact that Ville was your best tipper out of all of your clients, and he at least had some interesting stories to tell, but something about him just made you a little uneasy. And it didn't help that you'd just sat through five hours of him being shirtless under your hand.

"Okay. Look in the mirror and give me your collective score." You said as you turned your gun off, letting him get up and out of the chair and then trying not to stare too hard at the muscles of his back as he stretched out.

"That felt really fucking quick." Ville commented as he stepped over to inspect himself in the mirror, tone sounding pleased with the fact. You stared at him for different reasons then, because that had felt like the longest tattoo session of your life, but didn't say anything on the matter. At least he was having fun. "Looks great. Maya Deren wouldn't be too appalled."

"Why thank you. Sure you don't want anything else added?" You asked as you peeled your gloves off, feeling more than relieved that he didn't seem to have any qualms with your work. You had no idea how he'd found problems with a three letter words, but not a portrait of someone's entire face.

"No, that'll be it."

—

And that was the last you saw of him. You expected he'd turn up in a couple years' time when he eventually found something else (or maybe got another name or face tattooed and needed that covered up as well) to get done, but you certainly didn't expect to see him when you walked into work hungover and tired only three days later.

"Jesus Christ." You nearly jumped out of your skin when you walked into your studio to see him already sitting there. He was handsome, you couldn't deny, but he was certainly scary when you weren't expecting him. "Didn't I just see you?"

"I came in for touch-ups." He explained, stretching out in the chair as if he couldn't have possibly belonged anywhere else. You narrowed your eyes.

"You need touch-ups? After three days?" This fucker. Seriously. He must've hated you. Or he just lived to torture every tattoo artist in your shop in general. Either one worked. "I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think you're my most difficult client."

"I'm not going to be back for a long time, and I figured I should make up for my last appointment." He scoffed, crossing his legs and looking over at you where you were still standing by the door of your own studio. You checked back in mentally, closing the door and setting your bag down on the floor before running your hands over your face.

"Alright, I guess. I appreciate the makeup." You mused as you walked over to where none of your stuff was set up, silently cursing him for arriving so early on the one day you'd come in late due to how shitty you'd felt when you had awoken that morning.

"What kind of hangover is it?" As you set up, his question surprised you, and you looked back to see him almost smiling. You didn't think you'd ever truly seen the sight in all of the appearances he had made in your shop over the years.

"What?" Was it really that easy to tell? Sure, you'd been forced to rush considering the fact that your still-kind-of-drunk brain had convinced you that the sound of your alarm was still apart of your dream, but you'd showered, at least.

As a matter of fact, he looked a bit cleaner than usual today, too.

"You're clearly hungover. What's it off of?" He repeated, and you could've sworn you saw him eyeing you over as he spoke. You deadpanned, because usually someone who looked hungover looked like shit, before sighing.

"Vodka shots." You admitted, pausing where you'd been in the middle of setting up to narrow your eyes at him. "Do I really look that bad?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." Those words took you by surprise, and you let your lips part slightly as he now visibly checked you out. What the fuck. You were really trying to ignore the way your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as he shrugged. "I won't make you tattoo on a vodka hangover. I don't actually need the touch-ups."

You just stared at him, trying to comprehend both of the things that he had just said to you and failing to do so for both. "So...why are you here then?"

"Who knows why anyone is anywhere. I suppose it might have something to do with the fact that you're one of the only people I know that's bearable to be around in this godforsaken country." He spoke so casually, as if every one of his words wasn't shocking you more and more as they came out of his mouth one by one. Once again, you stared at him for a second before responding.

"Huh. I really thought you didn't like me." Multiple sessions filled to the unbearable brim with dry responses, irritated adjustments, and an overall air of disinterest had convinced you on the fact, but here he was in your studio requesting touch-ups he didn't even need with money he didn't even have to spend.

"Everyone thinks that. I've been told I'm a bit of a raging cunt." He snorted, waving you off when you went to resume your setting up in an attempt to bring your brain back into function. "Don't bother. The tattoo is fucking perfect."

"Well, I feel bad now. You already paid a deposit on the session." You insisted, unable to bite back a grin at his compliment of your handiwork. You weren't sure you wanted him to leave quite yet, despite the fact that you'd been more than eager to get him out of the shop the last time you'd seen him. He just seemed...different today. More at ease.

"Oh well." He said simply, shifting so that he could slip his hand into his pocket before he came up with a pack of Marlboro Lights and a shitty-looking red lighter. "Will smoke detectors go off in here?"

"No, they're broken." You waved him on to give him the go ahead to smoke, coming back over to where your working stool was before sitting down so that you were near his chair. "You're really going to pay to be in here for no ink?"

"I don't mind. It'll give you time to get over your hangover before you stick a needle into the next poor bastard who comes in here." He said with finality, that half-grin now permanently on his face as he spoke. He then absentmindedly offered his cigarette out to you, and when you looked at him in surprise, he held it out further. "It helps. Even if you don't smoke."

"I think it's against the rules to share spit with my tattoo clients." You teased as you took a long drag off of his cigarette. You did in fact smoke (albeit not his brand), and the soft burn in your lungs made you feel a little less jittery. His look changed at that, and you immediately realized how that sounded, but he didn't actually seem to mind. In fact, by the way his eyes dropped to your lips for just a split second before he was looking back to you, he didn't mind at all.

"Yeah? So you're against sharing spit in all forms?" This whole interaction was leading into a place where you really should not have let it be going, as Ville was in fact your client and you were in fact at work, but you couldn't help yourself. You weren't dumb enough to ignore that you had one of the hottest men you had ever seen in your studio currently flirting his ass off with you.

And, on top of that, it was obvious that Ville had a goal in mind. You could tell by the way he was obviously freshly-showered and in a much lighter mood, and you could definitely tell by the way he was currently wasting time away without a tattoo needle in him despite paying the deposit for an entire session. You shrugged, grinning slyly.

"Mm. Maybe not. Depends on which client I'd be sharing spit with." You said, acting as if you couldn't have possibly caught on to what he was trying to say. He nodded, watching you more than closely as you leaned over to grab an empty ink cap to ash the cigarette still between your fingers into.

"You know, I know a great hangover cure that works better than anything else." Ville said casually before he was turning in his chair so that he was facing you to the point where you were almost knee-to-knee. He still smelled just as good as he had last time you'd seen him, and you wondered if your head was spinning more because of your hangover or the man in front of you. You passed his cigarette back.

"Yeah? What's that?" You had a pretty good idea, but you liked this little game that he was playing. He did have a very appealing voice, after all. He took a long drag off of the returned cigarette, holding your gaze intensely the entire time before he spoke again.

"Fucking." The way he drew out the word almost made you lose it. Almost. He never stopped staring at you, studying your features as he gave his certified suggestion, and you spluttered in turn as you swallowed that information.

"Really? In a tattoo studio?" You managed to mumble out, your eyes dropping to where his free hand moved to rest over your knee. Your body had never reacted so viscerally to such a small touch, but that's exactly what it was doing now, and you felt your heartbeat in your throat. Among other places.

"I've done worse." When you looked back up at him, he was already smirking at you, and he looked nothing but sure of himself. He reached out to crush his cigarette out in the ink cap that was sitting on your table next to his chair, but he never moved back where his face had come right up in front of yours, and then he was kissing you.

Smoke drew out of his nose in thin tendrils as he kissed you softly, one hand coming up to cup your cheek while the other hooked under your stool and pulled it closer to him. You knew that this was extremely unprofessional, and that your boss would've kicked your ass if she would've seen what you were currently doing on paid time, but all you did was deepen the kiss as your knees brushed heavily against his.

"Are you sure?" This still didn't feel completely real, and you found yourself pulling back from the kiss as you looked at him with slight concern in your eyes. You were trying to let his plaguing indifference get to you, but it wasn't exactly easy. He didn't respond, just held your gaze tensely with arousal burning deep in his irises before he was hooking his fingers in your front belt loops and pulling you further forwards.

As your lips connected once again, you were quickly crawling into his lap, hands cupping either side of his face while his arms wrapped strongly around your hips to keep you against him as the both of you kissed hungrily. This was definitely not at all what your studio was meant for, and you didn't even know if your chair could healthily take the weight of two full grown adults, but you were too intoxicated by the taste of his tongue to care.

"Does the door lock?" Ville asked against your lips breathlessly after a moment, one hand holding himself in the chair and the other pushing underneath your shirt as you rocked your hips just slightly in his lap. His voice stuttered at that point, and his hand dropped from under your shirt to hold you in place tightly by your hip. You shook your head.

"No. The walls are thin, too." Although you normally would've been put off by those factors (in fact, you never would've caught yourself dead having sex anywhere near where you worked on a normal day), you could barely get them off your chest quick enough before you were kissing Ville again, starting to roll your hips again despite his grip.

"Can you be quiet, or am I going to have to put a hand over your mouth?" After a second, Ville broke away to speak those bold words into the open air, stealing the breath right from your lungs as he did so. When you didn't respond, mostly because you didn't trust yourself to form coherent thoughts in that moment, he nipped at your lip. "Turn around."

"But—" You were already in his lap, and you hadn't even removed any items of clothing yet, so you had no idea what he was planning. You had already fallen too deep into a haze of arousal to really care about anything other than him fucking you, so you felt panic creeping up the back of your neck at the thought of having to pull away from him. He shushed you softly, interrupting your protest.

"It'll be okay, love. We have time." Ville cooed, his head tipping forward so that he could press soft, warm kisses to your neck as he coaxed you into complying with his request. However, lucky for him, you were quickly becoming entranced by a man who you had started off your day thinking you hated, and you were moving to turn in his arms with just the touch of his lips on your sensitive skin. If any of your coworkers (who knew Ville very well, and not in a good way, considering the reputation his loud music and excessive drinking had brought him with his last artist) could see you now, you never would've heard the end of it.

Ville's hands stayed on you to guide you along with your own movements until you were laying with your back flush against his chest and your legs between his, his chin tucked over your shoulder the entire time. You felt your heart rate picking up when his hands began to explore; his fingertips on one hand dipping under your shirt hem while the other hand moved to rub over your thigh.

"You are so beautiful." His voice was like a song in your ear as his hands crept higher and higher, and you could only try to gasp air into your lungs as his fingers moved to find the button of your pants. The sound of your zipper slowly pulling open after he'd undone your button was enough to make your head spin violently. "I have to admit something."

"Yeah?" You were able to breathe out as your hand ghosted over his where he was just beginning to push it past your currently-open zipper, your thighs beginning to press together as he got closer and closer to where you really needed him.

"Every time you tattoo me, all I can do is picture what you'll look like when I fuck you." His voice barely made it past your ear as he suddenly drew both hands away from you, making the impatience sear in your chest before it was quickly soothed when he began to push your pants down your hips on either side of you. "God, I've wanted you for so long."

Well shit. If you had known that, this would've happened a lot sooner than today after knowing each other for around a decade.

"Ville. Please." You couldn't take his filthy mouth paired with the lack of his touch, and your plead was bursting from your lips before you'd even fully kicked off your pants once he'd pushed them down far enough. You were now almost bare in his arms, and you felt like you were going insane.

"Shh." Just as he shushed your impatience, Ville's fingertips touched to your clit for the first time, and your back arched involuntarily as your breathing audibly picked up at the feeling. Even with the first slow circle that his fingertips rubbed on your clit you were moaning, and Ville's free hand clapped over your mouth just in time to hide the sound. "Does that feel good, darling?"

You couldn't respond, but you knew he could tell by the subtle way your back was arching towards his touch as his fingers began to circle faster on your clit. His fingers were skilled, and in that moment you understood exactly why someone had not only let him call their pussy the name of an animated snail, but had also condoned him getting the sound said animated snail makes tattooed on himself.

You moaned hard against his hand when he slowly dipped two fingers into you, the new sensation making your entire body shudder as he continued to shush you softly in your ear. You were slightly worried about the idea of someone coming into your studio to check on you, but he seemed as if he couldn't have had less of a care in the world. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was leaving his hand a little loose over your mouth on purpose just so that he would be able to hear your moans.

"Slow down. Let me have fun." He purred in your ear at your squirmy movements and badly-controlled voice, his legs trapping you between themselves slightly to prevent you from moving any further. You mentally blanched through the fog in your brain at the implication that he was going to enjoy you allowing him to take his time fucking his fingers into you more than you would in any way, unable to respond to his request but instead trying your best to settle your overreactive nerves.

However, every attempt at calming yourself was immediately washed away by the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body as Ville pumped his fingers deep and slow inside of you. You were completely at the mercy of his skilled touch; and he knew it too. You could tell he was enjoying his own little game with every shift of his fingers on your lips that allowed for the sharp sound of your voice to escape into the painfully-quiet room for a split second before he was quickly rendering you silent once again.

Ville may have been able to keep up this game for what you feared was an admirably long time, but you were starting to feel as if you were going insane, and you couldn't wait anymore. Your shaky fingers found Ville's hand against your mouth before you were peeling his own digits away from your lips, a whimper escaping once you were free to speak.

"I need you. In me. Please." You pleaded, your words stumbling out of your mouth unevenly as he continued to curl his fingers into you throughout your entire sentence. Never in your life could you have ever guessed that you'd ever find yourself begging a client to fuck you right there in your own tattoo chair, but Ville Valo wasn't just any client.

And not any client could use their fingers the way Ville Valo currently was.

"Can you handle it?" God, he was cocky. Sure, it had you a lot more weak in the knees than you were willing to admit, but that was nobody's business but your own. And you were sure it wasn't like he was going to decline your request even if it was revealed that you couldn't handle getting fucked in such a quiet environment. You, however, nodded quickly.

"Yeah. Promise." You didn't know if your answer was discernible between babbling and hurried, but at this point you really didn't care anymore. You had an end goal just as much as Ville did, and you really wanted it. "Please baby. I want you now."

"Yeah? How bad do you want it?" As he spoke, Ville gently pulled his fingers from inside you just as his hand dropped completely away from your mouth yet continued to let you hold onto it where you'd been holding it away. You gasped in a shaky breath at the feeling, shifting your hips in the confines of his legs on either side of you.

"I was so close, Ville. I'm begging you." You whined pathetically, pressed back far enough into his chest to where you could feel his warm breath against your cheek. He didn't respond, just shushed you softly once again, before suddenly his fingertips were brushing against your lips and he was pressing his long fingers into your mouth.

You savored the sound of his deep hum of arousal behind you as you sucked the taste of yourself off of his digits, swirling your tongue suggestively as you felt him begin to shift in a way that was not at all inconspicuous underneath you. You almost had him where you wanted him, and you could tell that his patience wasn't going to last much longer than yours had.

“Be patient, love. I’ll give you anything you want.” All too quickly, and despite his words, Ville was drawing his fingers out of your mouth. For a split second you felt frustration taking over at his refusal to give you even a hint of what you so desperately wanted, but your emotions were quickly settled when you felt him fumbling behind you.

He was undoing his belt.

You turned back to watch him, lip drawn between your teeth to (poorly) hide your eager grin as you listened to the sound of the metal buckle clinking. Ville clearly noticed you watching, and he was quick to catch you in a kiss as his hands hurriedly peeled his zipper open before he was slipping his jeans down his hips just enough to free his cock.

“Do you have a condom?” Through the haze in your own head, you pulled yourself together enough to mentally slap yourself in the face, because of course you didn’t have a condom. However, you never got the chance, because within seconds Ville had fumbled his wallet out of his jeans and had produced the requested condom.

Even with the tension and aroused urgency in the room, you couldn’t help but take a moment to snicker. “I didn’t realize you had already planned this shit out.”

“Maybe I might’ve been desperately hoping.” Ville hummed in joint amusement, his lips dipping to the crook of your neck as you turned away with the sound of him ripping the condom open. You didn’t miss the way one of his hands rubbed fleetingly across your ass as you repositioned yourself so that you were straddling him while still facing away as he visibly ate you alive with his eyes. “I have a thing for the ones that don’t like me.”

You laughed softly at that as he rolled the condom on. You definitely liked him now if nothing else, and you were about to reassure him that he really wasn’t as insufferable as he sometimes came off as, before you were abruptly thrown off by the feeling of the head of his cock sliding against your clit. He kept his free hand on your hip to assure that you couldn’t gain the upper hand against his merciless teasing, sliding his tip through your pussy a few more times before he was slowly pushing into you.

“Oh my god.” You whimpered out unconsciously, crumbling as if you were boneless against his chest almost immediately as he began to slowly fuck his cock up into you. His breathing had gone ragged the second that he’d pushed into you, and you could feel his chest heaving against your back as your ass pressed flush down into his lap and on his cock.

“Yeah. Fuck, just like that.” Ville encouraged as he ate up your pliance, one of his arms wrapping tight around your hips to hold you still as he fucked you smoothly. His thrusts were full and slow, and you silently wondered how someone could be so precise with such a pleasing torture as you moaned dizzily.

Despite how delicious the filthy mix of skin-on-skin and the shaky sounds falling from your lips in an increasingly-steady stream were, subtlety was close to flying out the window, and Ville was soon placing his free hand back over your mouth as he whispered for you to shut that pretty mouth. There was no space between your bodies now, and you felt as if you were molding backwards into him as his lips dragged hot against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I know you wanted me. You touch more than anyone that’s ever tattooed me.” He cooed knowingly in your ear, his words only slightly separated by soft groans at the feeling of his cock mind-numbingly deep inside of you. He only continued as your face burned hot at the feeling of being found out for actions you had assumed were unnoticeable. “You needed me to fuck you bad, didn’t you, love?”

You couldn’t respond verbally, but you nodded as best you could as one hand covered his where he was still holding your hips tight against him. You felt as if you couldn’t put your scrambled brain back together enough to do anything else, and the pleasure was becoming too overwhelming for you to be able to just sit there and take it.

As fingers gripped tightly at skin and you moved desperately along with each other, the build of primal urgency between the two of you was climbing fast as you both chased your highs with desperation that could no longer be pushed down. Your head was almost resting back against Ville’s shoulder now, and his face was pressed into your neck to muffle his own loud groans.

“I can’t last. Holy shit, you feel so good.” He breathed out in ecstasy against your skin, his words drawn out and strained as the pace of his hips rolling up into you gradually starting to increase as he reached that near-hysteric level of pleasure.

You wiggled your hips down on his cock as you shifted and fussed in his arms, the pleasure of him fucking right into your sweet spot making you begin to shake and jolt in his arms harder than what you could cope with. Every inch of your skin felt hot and tingly, and your heart was racing in your chest as he grabbed your hand where it was over his as he held you and laced your fingers together.

Yeah, Ville Valo definitely wasn’t just any client.

He still didn’t let up his tight seal on your mouth as he continued to muffle your pleasure-drunk moans into almost nothing, so you had no way to warn him when you finally reached your climax. The added impact of the continued thrusts of his cock heightened your orgasm considerably, and your hips jolted hard and involuntarily as you close-to-hyperventilated through the pleasure that was igniting your every nerve.

Ville let out a long, stuttered groan right against your ear before you could tell he was cumming too, his grip tightening considerably on your hip while his hand dropped clean away from your mouth as he chased his own high. His thrusts were sloppy and desperate, but you still found yourself pressing your knuckles to your lips to replace his hand as you shook and whimpered through the aftershocks of his cock still sliding into you after your orgasm had faded into sharp sensitivity.

When Ville finally slowed to a stop as his still-ragged breathing sounded right alongside yours, his hand rubbed absentmindedly against your hip where he had let your hand go due to the impact of his climax. The room felt a little warmer than it had ten minutes ago, but you didn’t dare pull away from him yet as you tried to bring yourself down out of space and back into your brain.

“Fuck. If only all those fangirls knew what you were really like.” You mused hoarsely, your voice feeling dry in your throat after having Ville’s hand over your mouth for so long. When you regrettably had to force yourself to slowly pull off of his cock and turn out of his lap and onto your feet, you were met with just the smallest curl of his lips at your words.

“I told you I have a thing for the ones that don’t like me.” He reminded you coyly, clearly eyeing you as you focused yourself on retrieving and redressing in the pants you had abandoned on the floor. He was then up soon after you, peeling off his condom and discarding it in a trashcan that was normally only used for tattoo supplies. You snorted, not bothering to draw your eyes away while he tucked himself back into and rezipped his jeans considering he really wasn’t ashamed of his own stare.

“I thought it was obvious, but I wouldn’t have done any of that if I didn’t like you.” Your smart tone wasn’t lost on him, and you had barely pulled your pants and underwear back up over your hips before he was right up in your personal space with his eyes on yours as if he had deemed your pupils his home.

“Yeah? What are you going to do when I come back?” He sounded as if he was mostly curious, but you didn’t miss the way his pitch dropped as he studied you. You quirked your eyebrows as you finished redressing, not pulling back away from him.

“Depends on whether or not you’re getting a tattoo dedicated to someone when I see you next.” You couldn’t help yourself, alright? If he hadn’t been prepared for jokes, he should have never told you in the first place.

Ville rolled his eyes then, pulling back to shake his head as you laughed to yourself. You were paying half a mind to the fact that you were definitely going to have to do a serious wipe-down of your tattoo chair once he left the shop.

“Just…don’t quit on me like the last one did.” Although that was worded as concern over potentially losing a second tattoo artist in a span of a few years, you could see the suggestive look on Ville’s face as he said it, and you couldn’t hide your smile despite trying to cope with the fact that your time with Ville would soon be up for the next foreseeable year (at the very least).

“I’ll be right here where I was next time you come back.” You promised, knowing that even if it wasn’t for a while, you would always look forward to the time you got to see Ville Valo again. Maybe for other reasons now than before, but the notion still applied. You were sad to see that he had his shirt back on and all of his stuff together, but you knew he’d end up back on the shop’s doorstop with a half-soggy pack of cigarettes in one hand sooner or later. He neared the door then, and you felt your heart jolt as he winked at you.

“Who knows. Maybe I’ll actually get the ink I paid for next time I see you.” To your surprise, instead of immediately leaving, Ville pulled you in then, not giving you much room to protest before he was kissing you slowly. The taste, though now familiar, made your composure swim dangerously, and you fisted one hand in the worn material of his shirt as you indulged the urge to deepen the kiss. It was hard to break away when the both of you finally forced yourselves to. “Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Valo. I’ll see you when the booze sales go up again.”

#ville valo #ville valo smut #ville valo x reader #ville valo fic #ville hermanni valo #HIM #his infernal majesty #jackass #jackass mtv #jackass imagine #jackass movie

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 11 months

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Following you to the ends of the earth Pt. 2

Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary- Part 2 to my first work under the same title. As the story progresses, Bran and readers relationship does too. Taking place in the cave still, they face the white walkers. Part one right here! A/N- OH Em GEE you guys, tysm for all the likes and reposts, it makes me feel really good that yall are liking this story as much as I am! Love yall so much! Word count- 3,285

You were always a light sleeper. Maybe it was because you were never truly safe, that you always needed to be on your toes. That's what happens when your betrothed is Brandon Stark. The soon-to-be Three-Eyed Raven. A lifestyle you knew many girls would reject or resent, but you wouldn't change it for the word. If always being hyper-aware kept you close to Bran, then so be it.

Although you never slept very long, holding Bran certainly helped. Which you did a lot more since becoming engaged. Not a night went by where he wasn't leaning into your side, chest, lap, or shoulder. The only times you weren't holding him, he was holding you.

This particular night, Brandon was the restless one. His head resting on your thighs, acting as a pillow. You were fast asleep, back pressed up agaist some of the roots and stone inside the cave.

Bran looked all over in the darkness, trying to distract himself from his growing boredom. He contemplated waking you, but he knew you needed sleep more than him at that moment.

Ultimately, he lifted his head fom you, hair disheveled. He immediately regretted it as he heard you groan at the lack of warmth and pressure. Luckily you stayed asleep.

First, he started to play with the dirt that padded the floor. Careful to not get any on you, he lifted it in his hands and spread it back out. This amused him for only a minute. He then thought to Summer. She was ears-up watching him, but he was only greeted by a tilt of her head.

With a sigh, he tried to lean himself up against the wall, just as you were. He stared at you for a moment. Just taking in your features. The small pout your lip that had gained seconds previously, the way your head slightly leaned to him. Even the small scar you had on your temple, result of a bad encounter in the woods.

He then worried that you might think lowly of him for looking at you, sleeping so softly. That being said, he changed his glance to the Old man. How could the Three-Eyed Raven sleep so much? It made Bran upset just thinking about the wasted time in the cave.

The Three-Eyed Raven was always insisting that 'Bran needed rest', sometimes only after one vision. If Bran was going to become the Three-Eyed Raven one day, they would need to pick up the pace.

It was this mentality that had Bran picking up the finger bone of a far passed figure. He tossed the bone up to the Old man in an attempt to wake him, but was unsuccessful. With a deeper sigh this time, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With a small grunt he moved to a crawling position to grab a branch in front of you and him.

"Bran?" You spoke out to him, noticing he was gone. "Are you ok?" You whispered.

He sqeezed his eyes closed for a second, scolding himself for waking you. "I am, go back to sleep." He said, turning to face you with a smile.

"What are you doing?" You persisted.

"Nothing, I'm just restless. I promise." He insisted.

As much as you wanted to call him over to smother him in affection and cuddle his worries away, you didn't know if he would be comfortable with that yet. The look on his face seemed like it had a goal, like he was trying to do something. But, you trusted him and did not want to bother him further.

Maybe if you knew what was going to happen you would have done things differently...

"If you need anything, let me know." You gave him a pleasant smile, which he studied with all his might, before turning on your side to try to gain sleep again.

His heart warmed, and he thought about returning to snuggle up and try to fall asleep. But, he couldn't deny that he felt a type of calling, and with frowned brows he faced the branch infront of him again.

Inhale. Exhale. Then he grabbed the branch, going deep into another vision.

Suddenly, he was outside. Powdered snow beneath him, with more falling from the sky. He walked on to the large tree in the middle of the snowy field.

Unusual stones flowed around the tree, but seemingly abandoned. With confusion rich on his face, he turned completely around to take in his surroundings.

After looking away then back to behind him, an army appeared. Thousands of bodies, but none human.

All were still and looked of decaying flesh, nothing humane about them except for the ripped clothing they wore.

This did nothing to help his confusion, but he marched on. Forcing his way through the frozen hoard of beings. Until he reached the end.

Four iced figures on decaying horses were sat at the back of the mob. Bran approached them, yearning for a better look. Until one of their heads snapped. Now looking directly at Bran.

He couldn't have possibly been seen? Right?

All of a sudden, the whole of the army was surrounding him. All looking right at Bran.

He turned fearfully, panting. Now met face-to-face with the leader of the hoard, The Night King.

Bran tried to back away, but was not quick enough. The Night King was too fast, and was right in Brans way.

A loud scream left his lips, he didn’t know if it was in pain or fear.

Your eyes snapped open at the sound and anxiety hit your veins like ice. You were fully awake now, adrenaline pumping.

"Brandon, Wha-" You were interrupted by a frantic Bran.

"He saw me, he saw me, The Night King saw me!" He exclaimed to you and The Three-Eyed Raven.

Surprisingly calm, the Old Man asked, "Did he touch you?"

'I-I don't know, he was close but.." At his words you were already on your feet, knelt down by Brans side. You examined him for and visible wounds.

"He touched you." The Three-Eyed Raven commented, and you raised both of Brans sleeves up. His left arm unscathed, thankfully. But he was not so lucky, for when you pulled up his right sleeve, you were met with an Icy hand print, that might have left an Ice burn scar.

Now everyone was awake, and questioning what happened. You let out a mix between a gasp and short cry at his forearm. "Oh gosh..." At your words, Bran looked up at you. Horror filled his eyes and you tried your best to console him with one hand to his back, and other fingers combing his messy hair.

"He knows you're here, he will come for you." The Old Man stated. Now you were terrified as well.

"But, he can't get in." Bran said, now doubting himself.

"Now he can." The Old Man claimed. "His mark is now on you. You must leave, all of you, now!"

You quickly kissed Brans cheek before getting up to help Meera and Hodor pack your things. You had to beckon the two others to get up, them still confused and dazed.

Meera gained some sense of urgency and went over to the sled, "Come on Hodor, help me with the sleigh." Hodor hesitantly walked over, assisting Meera. All while you crammed items into you bags, uncaring of wrinkles.

"Im sorry, I didn't mean to." Bran wasn't just speaking to The Three-Eyed Raven, but the three of you as well.

"The time has come." The Old Man began.

"Time for what?" With a quiver Bran answered.

"It is time for you to become me." The Three-Eyed Raven finalized.

Bran looked over at you, searching for some sort of familiarity and comfort. All you could offer was a look of reassurance and a smile while grabbing another bag. "But... Am I ready?" Bran asked, unsure.

He was met with a "No." Then both the Old Man and Bran snapped into a vision. Brans head falling back with a gasp and eyes white.

You let out a shaky breath, standing up to try to collect your thoughts.

"We can go home now Hodor." Meera exclaimed, trying to ease Hodors stress.

He responded with a chuckle and a "Hodor."

"Well, maybe not home-home, but at least not a cave." She said, smiling herself.

You tried to distract the ugly feeling in you stomach by joining the conversation, "I just want a nice fluffy bed and a hot bath." You added.

Meera smiled at you, "Oh, yes. And eat something that's not moss." Hodor laughed at the two of you.

"I want an egg." She stated, "How do you two like them, buttered? With a side of bacon. Maybe sausage?" Hodor ws very amused by this, his giddy 'Hodors" followed after him.

"Sunny side up for me." You said while gathering the blanket you and Bran were previously using.

At this Meera fell quiet. "What, what is it?" you questioned. Her face dropping, then eyes widening. You rose to your feet to follow her when she ran to the entrance of the cave.

"Meera, wait, we're not done packi-." Your words left your mouth as you were met with the sight of thousands of the dead. No, hundreds of thousands. All standing outside of the cave, with their leader The Night King, in front.

You had never been so scared. Not even when Jojen was attacked and killed by wights. Fear struck you onto your core. The hair on the back of your neck rose, your brow lined in sweat despite the cold. You were frozen still.

With wide eyes, you watched the Night King and his White Walkers advance.

Leaf and the other Children of the forest started throwing special balls of explosives out. Then lighting a ring of fire around the entrance of the cave. This would help keep them at bay. But you did not have a lot of time.

"Meera, we have to go now." She was just as shocked as you. With a grab of her arm, you pulled her back into the cave. She quickly came to and started running along side you.

At the commotion of running back in, Hodor became distraught. "Hodor...Hodor."

"Bran, wake up. Please Bran!" You called out to him, just as you fell to your knees beside him.

With your body pressing against his, you grabbed his shoulders and shook him. All while Meera tried to console Hodor into picking up the sled.

Bran laid there, eyes white as ever. It took all you had not to start throwing objects with foul language at the Three-Eyed Raven. If he was all-knowing, why couldn't he have prevented this?

Your cries became sobs as you felt tears bubbling up while shouting at Bran. "Bran, they are here now, we need you! Brandon wake up!" His name left your lips in a pitiful weep. If Bran couldn't hear your blatant plead for help, you would have to come up with another option.

"Meera, help me lift him." You called her over, whiping your tears away and giving one last sniffle. The two of you struggled to hoist Bran up to the sled. In your still blurried eyed state, you just about dropped him off of the sleigh, if it weren't for Meeras help.

The both of you panted at the activity, now out of breath. But you still needed to calm Hodor down. You went over to him stumbling as you did. A gentle hand was rested to his shoulder, calling his name.

"Hodor, listen, we need your help, you need to breathe. Inhale then exhale, buddy." You talked to him like a mother would, if Bran was conscious you knew he would make a comment about how nurturing you were.

White Walkers started pouring into the cave, and you had to quickly grab your weapon, an axe. As a walker came up to attack Hodor, he let out a cry. You jumepd to, slicing the walker across the chest. It fell to the ground, but more were approaching.

"Hodor, we need your help!" Meera shouted out, while swinging her sword at walkers who were trying to attack Bran.

You grabbed Hodor the best you could, pulling him to his feet. You urged him to walk to Meera and Bran. A walker some how pranced down from the ceiling, Meera letting out a scream. Summer hoped into action, tearing the walker apart.

It was looking hopeless as more White Walkers poured in. That was until Leaf and some other Children of the forest came in as well. All defending the four of you.

"Bran, wake up, we are all gong to die! We need Hodor, Bran!" Meera tried again. His white eyes stared back at the two of you.

Hodor was becoming more frantic, yelling out "Hodor, Hodor!" He shook his hands all around.

You knelt down at the side of the sled, while Meera stood up to fight more walkers off.

Taking his pale face in you hands, you brought his face close to yous. Foreheads touching, and one hand moving to be in his hair, you spoke to him.

"Baby please, we need you to warg into Hodor. My love, if this must be the last thing I ask of you so be it, but we will die if you do not wake up. Please, we need Hodor." You whispered directly into his ear. Then pressing you cheek to his own. Not before planting a quick kiss on his lips.

Unknown to you, while Bran was in his vision, watching the courtyard where a young Hodor and his father played and worked, he felt your touch. First, he leaned into the familiar feeling of you hand to his face. He didn't think about the fact that he had never felt you in a vision before.

He just thought about how your hand moved to his hair, smiling at the action. That was until he felt your cheek against his, then a whisper of your words in his ear, ringing out. You sounded weak, like you were crying. With a warm pressure against his lips, he felt your kiss. Bran said your name unconsciously. Just before snapping back to and warging into Hodor.

It was just a whisper, but you heard him murmur your name. You jumped up, looking to his eyes. They were still white, but now Hodor was standing tall, silent.

Hodor, under Brans guidance, marched over and picked up the handles of the sled. He started pulling Bran to the back exit of the cave. You risked the extra second to grab a bag. You weren't sure if it was the food or extra furs. Either way, you couldn't live without one or the other.

Just as you were pulling away, a walker ran at you. With a scream, you fell onto your back. Helpless, you prayed what you thought would be you last prayer.

With a snarl, Summer leaped up and attacked the walker. Giving you time to compose yourself and run with the others. You turned your head to see that Summer wasn't following you, but standing her ground.

"Summer! Summer, come here girl." You called after, but she stayed. Continuing to snarl at the walkers that advanced. You had no time, you had to run. With another sob, you tried a last time "No, summer, you have to come!" She didnt, and you ran.

You could worry about how to tell Bran later, right now you needed to make sure he stayed alive. You sprinted as fast as your legs would let you, bag now secured on your back.

You caught up to them by sheer luck. The two panting as they ran as well.

You made a glance behind you, seeing the corridor flooding with walkers. "We have to hurry!" You proclaimed.

Just a mere few seconds later, you all reached a door at the end of the passage way. Hodor dropped the sled down and went up to throw his body against it. Trying to urge it open. Meera and you helped the best you could, her soon bending with her hands on her kneees. She felt that she might pass out.

Looking at the long hall again, Leaf stood alone. Looking to the hundreds of walkers. She muttered a "Good luck." Out to you.

She then ran to the walkers, sacrificing herself with an explosive ball in her hands. The tunnel went up in flames.

You urged Hodor back, swinging your axe at the door handle. As a result, you were hrown back at the rebound. You weren't strong enough, but Hodor took the axe from your hands and swung it himself. This time it actually did damage, the handle popping open.

You all rushed out, Hodor turning around to close the door. But, the door wouldn't close all the way. Hodor used his body to keep it shut.

"Hodor, Hold the door!" Meera told. While you picked up one handle of the sled, Meera the other, you two pulled Bran away closer to the forest.

"Hold the door!" Meera called out again to the man.

"Good job Hodor, you've always protected us so well!" You yelled to him. Knowing it might be the last thing he hears.

You couldn't bare to look back at the walkers digging into Hodor. You kept a blank stare straight, and the two of you struggled to pull Bran.

The only reason you and Meera were able to get him to far so quickly was pure adrenaline.

You let out whispered cries. The storm had passed, now only a light flurry. The sky was still dark, or maybe it was the many leaves blocking the moonlight. But it only seemed to get darker in the forest. Every so often you called out to Bran, but he was still in a Warged-out state, or simply a vision.

Not knowing how far you were into the woods, or how much time had passed, you and Meera collapsed.

Meera tried to stand again, to pull Bran by the rope reigns, but was unable. You were both out of strength. She let out a wail, and you froze for just a moment before calling out to her.

Now in a full cry, she fell back to her knees, rope still in hand.

"Meera, Meera its ok. Shhh, its ok. You tried your best." You said as your pulled her into a hug. Her tears wet the shoulder of you furs, you didn't mind though.

With a sniffle she pulled back. You both turned to Bran and went by his side.

She sobbed again seeing him unconscious, and you wrapped an arm around her while you both leaned into the sled. You had one arm now cradling Brandons head, the other on Meeras back.

The three of you in a circle formation, in a way that had Bran against a tree, you and Meera with your backs to any attacker.

Brans eyes returned to their brown state, with your hand rubbing gentle circles on his cold cheek.

He looks to you then Meera, "They've found us." was all he said.

"I am so sorry." Meera cried out. She was holding everything that happened on herself. While all you could do in the moment was prioritize everyone's safety, though you knew your feelings would hit you hard later. If there even was going to be a later.

You pulled Meera down with you, both close to Bran all huddled together.

You saw the walkers approach, but the two of you had no strength left. You just held eachother. Accepting your fate, at least you would die with Bran....

A/N- I couldn't help myself yall, I love Bran too much. Lmk if yall want a pt. 3! Thanks for reading, and thanks again for the support guys! Lmk if there's any way I can improve the story! Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

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onceuponastory · 2 years

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part of a family - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: After Y/N is abandoned by her boyfriend, the father of her 8 month old son, her best friend Bucky comes to the rescue. The same Bucky who’s been in love with Y/N ever since he met her. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Being abandoned by a parent/a parental figure leaving, breakups, a few mentions of Bucky’s past as the winter soldier (but nothing too graphic), a tiny mention of blood, and a tiny mention of how babies are poop and vomit machines if that gives you the ick. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: Look, as soon as I had this idea, I knew I had to finish it even though it’s been sitting on my WIP list for months. It’s Bucky and a baby, hOW COULD I NOT? Thank you to my bestie @staticscreenwriting for my dividers and header, and for listening to me ramble about how cute Bucky + a baby would be.

The sound of a phone ringing soon disturbs the mid morning silence in Bucky Barnes’ apartment, waking up the super soldier almost immediately as it begins. Not that he was getting much sleep, anyway. Especially not with a past like his. Groaning, Bucky grabs his phone, accepting the call without even looking at the caller ID. As an Avenger, he knows that the call could be important. Or it could just be Steve or Sam needing something. Still, despite his heroic obligations, Bucky still wishes that whoever or whatever it is would just go away and let him sleep. Although he doesn’t get much sleep nowadays, he’d at least like to try to get some.

“Yeah? What is it?” He answers, his words mostly mumbled.

“Bucky?” He hears a voice sniffling on the other end. Almost immediately, Bucky comes awake, and he sits up, recognising the voice on the other end right away. Y/N. His best friend for almost a decade. From the pain in her voice and the sniffling, he can tell something is wrong immediately.

“Y/N, what happened? Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.” Y/N mumbles, and Bucky feels a pang in his heart.

“Y/N, I told you, you can call me anytime you need help. I’ll always answer.” He tells her. “Now, what happened?” A sob sounds from the other end of the phone, and Bucky swears that sound almost breaks his heart. He just wants to keep Y/N safe and happy, so when she isn’t, he feels like he’s failed in his position as a best friend.

“...He’s gone, Bucky. Brandon. He just left us.” Another sniffle. “...He said he wasn’t happy being with Oscar and I, and that he didn’t want to stay anymore. He told me he didn’t want to be a dad in the first place, and that I trapped him in a relationship by getting pregnant. And he tells me this now? When Oscar is eight months old?!” Bucky is already out of bed and getting dressed before Y/N continues to explain the situation. Bucky hears another sob from the other end of the line, and he clenches his fist angrily. Brandon is...or well, was Y/N’s boyfriend, and the father of their son Oscar. And he’s fucking abandoned them both, left them like they’re worth nothing to him. “....Oh god Bucky, what am I supposed to do now? I don’t know if I can do this on my own and my mom is so far away, a-and-” Y/N sobs, each tear feeling like a gut punch. “Buck? Are you still there?” Y/N asks, sniffling again.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Bucky makes the trip to Y/N’s house in exactly eight minutes. He storms up to the door. If Brandon is back, he better have a good excuse for leaving. Not that there is one, mind you, but still. Or at least, have a good apology. Because who does that? Who leaves their girlfriend and child alone with no help? Yet, before he can even knock on the front door, it swings open to reveal Y/N standing there, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bucky’s heart breaks, and all his thoughts of anger towards Brandon leaving are forgotten. For now, anyway. “Oh Y/N.” He soothes, pulling her close for a hug, which she gratefully accepts, squeezing him as tightly as she can. Like he’s a rock stopping her from being swept out to sea. Y/N sniffles into his shirt, and Bucky strokes her back, knowing it helps calm her down. Y/N savours the moment for a while, enjoying Bucky’s comfort and support. And for the first time that day, Y/N feels better. Not fully better, but it’s a start, anyway. She even feels a small smile grow on her lips. As far as she’s concerned, Y/N could stay here forever, wrapped in Bucky’s embrace.

“You, um, you should come inside.” She mumbles once they pull apart, stepping aside. “Oscar’s in his playpen in the living room. I’ve been trying to stay strong for him, but clearly it’s not working.” She sighs, gesturing to her face. “I know. I look like a mess. Thankfully, Oscar’s still barely talking, so he can’t ask me what’s wrong.” Bucky shakes his head. He thinks she looks gorgeous. She always has. After all, he’s been in love with her ever since he met her. He’d know that. But she was with Brandon back then, and then she had Oscar, and Bucky knew he couldn’t ruin their relationship. He’s already ruined so many lives and families, he can’t ruin hers. She’s too special to him for that. And besides, finding out your best friend is in love with you is probably not what you want to hear after your boyfriend just walked out on you and your child.

The pair enter the living room, and Oscar notices Bucky almost immediately, kicking his legs and babbling away excitedly. Y/N starts smiling as soon as she sees her son, and Bucky grins. People say there’s nothing like the love of a mother, and Y/N is clearly full of it. And the way she lights up when she sees her son shows she’s one of the best out there. Besides, she definitely has more love in her little finger than Brandon ever did, for a start.

“Oscar, this is Bucky. Remember him? Can you say hello? Can you say Bucky?” Y/N asks, holding him up to see Bucky. Oscar’s wide eyes look up at Bucky. Bucky chuckles. Oscar is definitely the spitting image of his mother. He has the same eyes as her, for a start. The same pair of eyes that Bucky fell in love with the first time he met Y/N.

“Blubbla!” Oscar babbles, showing him a toothy grin and reaching out for Bucky with his little hands. Bucky laughs.

“Hey buddy. Good job at saying my name!” Bucky gives a small wave. Oscar tries his best to give him one back, making Bucky’s heart swell. He never knew such a tiny human could generate so much love and happiness.

“I’m gonna go put him down for a nap, then we can talk. Is that okay?” Y/N asks, her happiness suddenly fading again. Bucky’s face falls. He wishes he could just take all that pain and sadness away from her. He swears that when he sees Brandon again, he’s going to punch him in the face. Well...Sam would tell him to just give him a stern talking to. And Bucky will do that. After he punches Brandon in the face.

“Of course it is, Y/N.” He gives her arm a reassuring rub as she leaves the room.

“I just, I can’t believe he didn’t say anything up till now!” Y/N sighs, clutching one of Oscar’s teddies close to her chest. Even though she’s never told him this, Bucky knows that holding his toys close is a comfort for her. It means she can be extra close to him, even when he’s just upstairs napping. Despite how cute that is, it only makes Bucky even angrier about the situation. Y/N cares so much about her son’s well being, and yet life and her ex have treated her so poorly. “Like, he said-” She takes a deep breath to steady herself, and Bucky gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. Once again, it helps her feel better. “-he said he’d been thinking about this for a while, probably even a few months. And he tells me this today? God, Bucky, what am I going to do if he doesn’t come back? What if I have to raise Oscar on my own?” She asks as tears roll down her cheeks again.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Bucky replies, pulling her closer for a hug and letting her cry into his chest. “You do not have to do this on your own, and you will never be alone.” Y/N smiles.

“Would it…would it be okay if you stayed over for a while? Feel free to say no, it’s just that I trust you, and Oscar adores you. I mean, I do too, it’s just- ah, fuck. Sorry.” Y/N mumbles into his shirt. “And it would be nice to have some help around here while I try to sort this whole mess out.” Bucky sighs softly. If he could, he’d take all this pain away from her and deal with it himself. After all, he’s been through so much of it already. In fact, most would argue that Bucky Barnes has been through far more pain and trauma than one person deserves. But despite that, he’d go through it all again if it meant Y/N never had to go through any pain of her own. “Just for a little bit. If you need to leave because of your whole Avengers thing, that’s totally okay. I don’t want to stop you from saving the world.” She pulls away, looking at him nervously, and Bucky can tell that she’s worried he’ll leave her too. Bucky leans in even closer, so close that she can feel his breath on her face.

“Y/N. I could never, and would never, leave you or Oscar. I’ll always come back for you both. Promise.” He whispers. With a small smile, Y/N nods.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“There’s that smile.” He grins. Bucky hasn’t had much happiness in his life ever since he became the Winter Soldier, but he swears that Y/N’s smile is the most beautiful thing in the world. More often than not, it’s the only thing that makes him happy, and makes him feel all warm and gooey inside. And because she’s so heartbroken right now, Bucky’s going to make sure that both she and Oscar have reason to smile for as long as he can.

“I really appreciate you doing this when you’re so busy, Bucky. I appreciate you a lot, you know?” That makes Bucky feel even better. Sometimes, he swears that Y/N’s the only one who appreciates him.

“Don’t be silly. It’s no problem at all.” He smiles. The pair stay close for a little while longer, so close that they could reach out and touch one another. They’re both silent, yet it’s a comfortable silence. Because Y/N and Bucky don’t need to talk. They can just be happy in each other’s company. For a moment, Y/N’s gaze lowers, almost as if she’s looking at his lips. Bucky’s cheeks go a little pink, and his heart rate rises as he pictures kissing Y/N.

“Bucky, I-” Y/N whispers, and Bucky raises his brows, waiting for what she’s about to say. Yet, Y/N stops herself before she can finish her sentence. Bucky’s mind wanders, and he thinks about kissing her even more. Despite how much he wants to kiss her, though, he knows he can’t. Y/N’s just had her heart broken and been left to raise her son alone. Him admitting his feelings for her will probably mess things up even more, which is the last thing she needs. And with a past like his, the last thing Bucky wants to do is put either her or Oscar in danger. Before either of them can say or do anything more, Oscar’s crying sounds from upstairs. “He’ll probably need his nappy changed. I’ll go do it.” She murmurs, leaving before Bucky can offer to do it.

Once he’s alone, he starts to think. Even though he’s been in love with Y/N ever since they first met, he can’t act on his feelings, or tell her the truth. He loves her so much, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt her. And besides, she definitely doesn’t need him acting like his life is hard because he can’t be with her. Soon, Y/N comes back, cradling Oscar to her chest. “You alright?” she asks, seeing Bucky deep in thought. And even though he knows he’s still upset about not being able to admit his true feelings for Y/N, the sight still makes Bucky smile. She really is beautiful.

“Yeah.” Bucky nods. “I’m great.”

A few nights later, as Y/N sleeps (or at least tries to, despite everything that’s happened), the sound of Oscar’s crying sounds from the baby monitor. Immediately, she’s awake. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m coming.” She murmurs, feeling around for her slippers and robe in the darkness. Of course, she’s accustomed to Oscar’s late night routine…mostly since she’s the only one who actually woke up to feed him and check on him.

Yet, as she opens her bedroom door and heads towards the nursery, the sound of crying seemingly stops. Y/N’s brow furrows, and she slowly tiptoes towards the door. Oscar rarely, if ever, stops crying out of the blue, and especially not when she isn’t there. So what’s changed? When she peeks through the gap in the door, Y/N gets her answer.

“Hey buddy.” Bucky whispers, clutching Oscar to his chest. “I know you’re hungry, but you’ve gotta try to get some sleep, alright? You’ll wake your momma.” Oscar babbles something, and Bucky laughs. “I know, I know, I gave you some food...but your momma’s going through a rough time right now, so you have to be nice and let her get some sleep, alright?” Y/N watches the scene unfold, smiling to herself as she wonders what on earth she did to deserve someone as supportive and caring as Bucky Barnes in her life.

As she watches Bucky cuddling her son close, his metal arm protectively cradling and rocking Oscar as he grabs fistfuls of Bucky's shirt in his tiny hands, Y/N's heart swells, and she sighs happily. “It’s not nice to not have a lot of sleep, is it? I should know.” Bucky says, laughing awkwardly. Y/N sighs. Even though Bucky doesn’t admit his feelings very often, she knows that he’s still having trouble coming to terms with his past and the things he did as the Winter Soldier. Of course, Y/N knows she has no idea of the true scale of pain that Bucky's actually going through. She can see it on his face, though, when he thinks she isn't looking. Sometimes, Bucky just stops, staring into space in silence for a while as the horrors and nightmares of his past flood back to him, and he remembers what he used to be. Y/N just wishes Bucky could see himself how others see him. Not as the Winter Soldier, but as Bucky Barnes. And she especially wants him to see how loving he is. After all, despite the anxieties and blood stained history connected to his arm, Bucky’s still using it to protect and support her son.

Because Bucky Barnes is not a monster. He never was. In fact, he's the complete opposite. He’s warm, and he’s loving, despite everything the world did to him. Or well, at least he is to her and Oscar.

And maybe that’s all that matters.

Since Bucky started living with Y/N and Oscar, he’s helped her so much more than he could ever know. He’s done everything: night feeds, changes (although it took him a little while to get used to how much poop and vomit babies generate), building cribs and other furniture, and more. He also reached out to his superpowered friends and coworkers for help, and true to form, all of Earth’s mightiest heroes rallied around them both. Sam and Sarah gave her spare, old clothes from Cass and AJ, Tony and Pepper offered all of Morgan’s old toys and playdates, Natasha and Wanda promised to take her out on girls' nights for a night out, and all the others offered babysitting and other ways to help. Y/N is incredibly grateful to them for all their help, but she’s especially grateful to Bucky, more so than he’ll ever know. She tells him that every day, but doesn’t know if he truly believes it. Without him, she knows she would have fallen apart. Bucky might not see himself as a hero, but to Y/N, he truly is her saviour. Their arrangement was only meant to last a few weeks, but now it’s been months, and Oscar’s first birthday is fast approaching.

“So, how’s your son Barnes?” Natasha grins one day after a debrief meeting.

“He’s not my son.”

“Buck probably wishes he was, though.” Steve murmurs, and a few laughs sound from the group. Bucky rolls his eyes, but still can’t stop a smile from growing on his lips. It’s small, yet the others still notice, and an ‘Ooooh!’ ripples throughout the room.

“Shut up.” He hisses, his cheeks flushing pink. Of course, he’s still head over heels in love with Y/N, and would love nothing more than to be with her, and to be a father figure to Oscar (officially this time). But he’s still too scared to admit his feelings for her. And besides, they’ve both been through so much pain already. Even though he’s a reformed assassin, Bucky knows his past could still catch up to them both, and he’s terrified of putting either of them in danger. “Anyway, speaking of, Y/N says you’re all invited to Oscar’s first birthday party as a thank you for all your support. It’s in two weeks.” The room fills with the sound of agreement, and once again, Bucky is smiling.

Later that evening, Bucky comes home from an endless day of meetings, exhausted and ready to see his two favourite people. However, as soon as he steps into the house, Y/N’s voice shouts:

“Bucky? Is that you? Come upstairs, quickly!” Bucky runs upstairs the quickest he’s ever moved in his life, terrified that his past as the Winter Soldier has caught up to him, and that Y/N and Oscar are in danger, or hurt. But when he gets there, the scene that greets him is thankfully not what he was expecting. Y/N kneels on the floor, with Oscar sitting a few feet away. “Come on, sweetheart. Show Bucky what you can do!” Y/N urges gently. Without another word, Oscar pushes himself up on his little legs, and toddles over towards Bucky. Once he reaches Bucky, he stumbles forward slightly, wrapping his little arms around Bucky’s leg and holding on tightly.

“Good job Oscar! Who’s my special little guy?” Y/N praises. “He’s been close to walking all day, and just as you got home he looked like he was about to do it, so I had to call you up.” Bucky looks down, and Oscar stares back up at him with a toothy grin. Immediately, Bucky feels tears stinging at his eyes as Oscar holds onto him even tighter. After being responsible for so much death and destruction in his lifetime, Bucky’s never felt so loved before. He’s also never been involved in such an important part of life before.

Because being a part of something like this, something so tender, so loving…is showing Bucky that maybe he’s capable of good things after all he’s done. “Bucky? Are you- Oh my god, are you crying?” Y/N gasps.

“No!” Bucky lies, trying furiously to wipe his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Buck….” Y/N soothes, picking up her son and pulling both him and Bucky into a hug. “Thank you. For everything.” She smiles. “I’m so grateful to you. More than you’ll ever know.”

“You’re welcome.” For a moment, as they both look into each other’s eyes, Bucky swears that this is it. This is when he could kiss her, with no care or any fear. But before he can, Y/N leans in first. As her lips get even closer to his face, Bucky’s heart rate picks up, rising so quickly he fears his heart is about to break free from his chest. Part of him, the scared part, wants to run, but he finds himself rooted to his position. Y/N presses her lips against his cheek. As her lips brush against his skin, heat immediately rises into Bucky’s cheeks, and he blushes deeply. He turns his head quickly, almost catching her lips with his. A gasp leaves Y/N’s lips, and her eyes widen ever so slightly. The familiar worries enter Bucky’s mind then, that despite how right this feels, and how much he wants to kiss her, it’s wrong. That a monster like him doesn’t deserve love after what he’s done, and especially not from someone like Y/N. Maybe she doesn’t even like him back.

But then, Y/N turns her head towards him, leaning in close. This time, it really does feel like his heart is going to break out of his chest. As their lips almost meet, for a moment, it feels like everything is right in the world. But before their lips touch, the phone starts to ring, stopping them both.

“I um…I better go get that.” Y/N mumbles. Bucky reaches out, about to stop her. And it almost seems as if Y/N waits for him to do it. When he doesn’t, her face falls slightly. “I’ll be a sec.” As she walks away, Bucky sighs. Now he’s really messed up. Fuck.

Two weeks later, Oscar’s birthday party arrives, and Y/N’s house is full of Avengers. Away from the madness, Bucky helps Y/N as she brings more bowls of snacks through to the kitchen. Despite their continued ease and comfortableness around each other, there’s still a sense of awkwardness around them. Since they almost kissed, neither of them has spoken about it. Even though it’s been replaying in Bucky’s mind constantly, and all he wants is to admit his feelings and kiss her properly this time. If he could, he’d kiss her forever.

“Where’s Oscar?” She asks, and Bucky chuckles.

“He’s in there, being fawned over by all his honorary aunts and uncles.” Y/N follows him into the dining room, where the Avengers are all playing with Oscar.

“He’s so cute! Like a little angel.” Wanda coos, cuddling him close.

“Yeah, just wait till he’s older, though.”

“Don’t worry about that, Natasha. We’ll teach him what’s right and wrong, Y/N.” Steve promises.

“Oooh, yeah, videos in gym class. How exciting.” Sam teases, taking Oscar from Wanda. “What I wanna know is when he can go for a flying lesson with me.”

“That’s not happening.” Bucky shakes his head.

“Not for a while yet, Sam.” Y/N laughs.

“Ah, they grow up so fast! Soon he might even be able to lift Mjölnir!” Thor chuckles. As Y/N watches Earth’s Mightiest Heroes cuddling and playing with her son, Bucky notices tears shimmering in her eyes. He takes her hand, interlinking his fingers with hers.

“You’re not alone.” He whispers, giving her hand a squeeze. He knows his friends are probably teasing him about this, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is making sure that his two favourite people in the world are happy. So when the doorbell rings and Y/N goes to answer it, he’s confused. As far as he knows, everyone else is already here. So who the hell could this be? His concern grows, and he readies his metal arm just in case. When Y/N comes back with a familiar face, Bucky is just as confused and concerned.

“Everyone…this is Brandon. Oscar’s father.” Y/N announces, her gaze falling to the floor. Immediately, the mood of the room changes. The others don’t know the full extent of the story, but they do know Brandon left them both.

“Hey everyone.” Brandon mutters, warily looking around the room full of superheroes. Then, he makes eye contact with Bucky’s glaring face and flexing metal arm, both warning him that there’ll be serious consequences if he ever hurts Y/N and Oscar again. “Hey Bucky.”

“Hi.” Bucky hisses. Brandon visibly gulps, before noticing his son in Sam’s arms. Right away, his face lights up.

“Oscar! Hey buddy! Come to daddy!” He grins. As Sam reluctantly hands Oscar over, Bucky leans in closer to Y/N.

“Are you okay? Did he show up out of nowhere? If you need me and the others to get rid of him, let me know.” Bucky whispers. To his surprise, Y/N shakes her head.

“No. I invited him.” And then Bucky’s heart sinks. She invited him? Sure, he’s Oscar’s father, but he gave up that role a long time ago. After everything that happened, she still invited him back? Bucky looks over at Y/N, who’s now chatting with Oscar and Brandon, like they’re a happy family. One that Bucky clearly doesn’t fit in. Maybe that’s why she invited him back. Maybe after her and Bucky’s failed kiss attempt, she wants to try again. Because maybe she didn’t feel anything for him at all. And that thought tears Bucky apart.

“You alright?” Steve murmurs, and Bucky nods. Even though it’s obvious he’s not okay. He casts one last look over at Y/N, smiling as she holds her son. But if he doesn’t fit into her life anymore, he just has to accept it.

Despite the awkwardness of Brandon being there, and Bucky worrying that he no longer fits into Y/N’s life, the party is fun. At least, it is when Bucky isn’t throwing glares at Brandon and sad glances at Y/N. Once it’s over and everyone has left, Bucky joins Y/N in the kitchen, helping her clean up. And hopefully he can find a way to talk about his feelings about this whole situation. He just can’t find the words right now. As they clean in silence, the air around them both is awkward.

“Hey, um.” Bucky finally begins. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll move my stuff out whenever you want.” Y/N frowns.

“Why would I want you to do that? You’ve been such a great help, I don’t want you to move out.” Suddenly, her face falls. “Oh god. I’m sorry if I’ve been taking advantage of your help, Bucky. I promise, I didn’t mean to-”

“God, no!” Bucky exclaims. “You haven’t at all. I was happy to help. I just don’t want to get in the way of you and Brandon.” Y/N continues to frown until the realisation dawns.

“Oh. Bucky, you don’t have to worry about him. There’s nothing more between us.”

“Then why did you invite him?” Bucky asks, and Y/N sighs. “He abandoned you both and told you he didn’t want to be a father!”

“I know! I don’t need the reminder.” Y/N huffs. “I honestly didn’t think he’d reply to me, because he barely replied to any of the messages I sent him before now. But when I asked what he was giving Oscar for his birthday, he replied and asked what I was doing for it, so I mentioned the party. Don’t look at me like that!” She orders, pointing out Bucky’s expression. “Yes, he left, but he’s Oscar’s dad, Buck. I know he’s an asshole, but I’d feel like an asshole if I didn’t invite his dad to his first birthday party. Like what if he grew up and found out I kept his dad away from him? I just want Oscar to be happy.” She sighs with a sniffle. Bucky’s face softens, and he steps forward, pulling her into a hug.

“And he is happy, Y/N. He’s the best kid I’ve seen, and it’s a testament to you. Nobody else.” He rubs her back as she sniffles softly into his shirt. “I’m sorry if I was being a dick about everything.”

“No, you weren’t. You were just looking out for us both, like you always do. I’m so grateful to you.” Y/N tells him. “The way Oscar turned out may be a testament to me, but I think it’s a testament to you too, Bucky. You’ve done so much for him, for us both. You know, Brandon had no idea what to get Oscar for a present, or what his favourite things to do are. You do, and I think the toys you bought him might be his favourite presents. To be honest, I don’t even know if he knew when Oscar’s birthday was until I told him. And you helped me teach Oscar how to walk and talk, not him. You were the one helping me with baths, night feeds and changes, not him. I told you Bucky, you’ve helped us both more than you can ever imagine, and I am so grateful to you. Brandon might be Oscar’s dad by blood, but to me, you are his father figure.” Bucky stands in shock. As Y/N’s words sink in, he feels tears building in his eyes. Nobody has ever said anything like that about him before. A huge smile grows on his face. Both Y/N and Bucky stay there for a while, wrapped in each other’s embrace. “Bucky?”

“Mhm?”

“I want to tell you something. Something that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but have never had the confidence to.” She takes a breath. “The reason it won’t work out with me and Brandon anymore is because I’m in love with someone else. I’m in love with you, Bucky.” Bucky’s eyes widen, and he gasps. “If you don’t feel the same about me, then I understand. I just felt like I’d be going crazy if I didn’t tell you the truth.” Lifting his hand, Bucky cups her cheeks.

“Y/N, I love you too. I have done for years, but I never said anything because you had Brandon and Oscar, and I didn’t want to ruin your happiness.”

“Bucky. You could never do that. After what happened, I never thought I’d have happiness again, but being with you and Oscar in our little family has brought me so much joy.” Bucky leans in close, running his thumb along her lips. Without another word, he leans in close, pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss. As they pull each other closer, Bucky’s arms hold her tightly, so tightly that he’ll never let go ever again. That he’ll keep her safe forever.

“Thank you.” He whispers when they pull apart. “Thank you for making me part of a family.”

I don’t do taglists anymore, so please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn notifications on to be notified when I next post!

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x Female Reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel oneshot

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shakesthewizard · 9 days

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The Bad Kids as Knights Radiant

A while ago, I wrote this post assigning the main characters from Deltarune orders of Knights Radiant from Brandon Sanderson's Stormlight Archive books. Now I'm gonna do the same with Fantasy High's Bad Kids!

Adaine O'Shaughnessey - "I will Seek Truth." The Order of Truthwatchers.

Do I need to elaborate on this one? The strongly opinionated youngest child of a rich and powerful family who has oracular visions thrust upon them without their asking and has to use their newfound power to save the world despite their pronounced lack of physical ability and the presence of neurological, emotional, and physical disabilities? Is anybody gonna fight me on this?

In all seriousness though - Adaine is defined by her desire to uncover lies and use the truth to set things right, no matter the cost. She so strongly values telling people what they need to hear, instead of what will make them feel better, and alongside Riz she's half of the team's mystery-solving power.

As a Truthwatcher, Adaine commands the surges of Progression and Illumination, and while powers-wise those feel a bit more geared towards Fig's spell list, Adaine is a master of handling the battlefield without drawing attention to herself, and as a Diviner she fills a much stronger support role than other Wizard subclasses.

Boggy the Froggy is Adaine's Lightspren.

Fabian Seacaster - "I will Reach my Potential." The Order of Elsecallers.

The Elsecallers are the consumate badasses of the Knights Radiant, and probably the most concerned with appearances, aside from the Lightweavers (who we'll get to, don't you worry). Fabian himself has huge potential for strength, grace, social aptitude, and academic success, that we see him fulfill over the course of the show. He's an excellent fighter who isn't afraid to utilize a nontraditional ability or tool in unique ways to give himself an upper hand. It reminds me a lot of Jasnah soulcasting on the battelfield.

As an Elsecaller, Fabian commands the surges of Transformation and Transportation. I think Transformation is the most apt thematically, as we see during his season 2 arc, learning to live as himself without abandoning his father's legacy. Although Transportation is also appropriate, given both that he's a very mobile combatant, and that he was the first among his party to gain access to a vehicle - one which he uses on the battlefield constantly.

I would say that the Hangman is his Inkspren, but I really think if he's anything he's a Dustspren.

Gorgug Thistlespring - "I will Seek Self-Mastery." The Order of Dustbringers.

While his personality doesn't match what we know of the Dustbringers in the series so far, Gorgug is otherwise an extremely good fit for this order. In season one, his arc centers on accepting his anger as a natural part of himself, and learning how to point it in useful and helpful directions, as well as reconnecting with his orcish heritage.

In seasons two and three, Gorgug dives into artificing; learning how to take things apart and put them back together, and pioneering ways to combine his skill with technology and his prodigious destructive power.

As a Dustbringer, Gorgug commands the surges of Division and Abrasion. These feel very appropriate for our curious barbarian, and I honestly don't feel like there's a lot I could say that wouldn't be plainly obvious. The kid rips stuff apart, what can I say?

Fig Faeth - "I will Speak My Truth." The Order of Lightweavers.

Performance. Art. Identity. Lies. Fig feels almost like an embodiment of this order. If you know anything about Lightweavers, I don't even know what to say that isn't already apparent. Fig disguises herself, invents new identities, lies constantly, and is the party's designated spy. She expresses these illusory powers by way of her artistic expression, and has a bad habit of running from her problems using those same powers. But of course, when the time comes, she shows an unmatched prowess for using those powers to completely dismantle the lies and schemes of ne'er do wells.

As a Lightweaver, Fig commands the surges of Illumination and Transportation. She uh. Makes illusions and turns into other people. Look, I don't know what else to say. She's a perfect fit.

Kristen Applebees - "I will Unite Instead of Divide." The Order of Bondsmiths.

Holy shit. This is why I wanted to make this post. Kristen, who with force of will and clarity of purpose brings a god back from the dead and forges a bond with her. Kristen, the most powerful Cleric of any god for the last century, who even at her most ignorant is the one to start treating the bad kids as a team before anyone else. Kristen, whose source of power is immense and strange, and who she conflicts with regularly, even as they share a purpose.

As a Bondsmith, Kristen commands the surges of Tension and Adhesion. Again, these are perfect for her. Kristen as a character feels at times to be made of tension; pulling at a deep and very serious love of ritual and spirituality that is at odds with her seeming inability to take things seriously the more dire they get. The girl who can create a new god, who can bring one back from nothingness, and who flunks out of her Cleric class the moment her teacher isn't 100% in her corner. Kristen's arcs also tend to be pretty central to the larger plots, what with the Harvestmen, The Nightmare King, and now Cassandra's spouse seeming to have a pretty pivotal role in whatever the Rat Grinders are up to. In short; Kristen Adheres the bad kids together.

Kristen's Bondsmith-spren is, obviously, Cassandra.

Riz Gukgak - "I will Protect." The Order of Windrunners.

I'm gonna be real with you, folks, I have never encountered a more Windrunner-ass motherfucker in my life. "I gotta do the right thing no matter what and be emo about it the whole time. What do you mean I have friends who love and support me?" Look me in the eyes and tell me if Riz got assigned to Bridge Four he wouldn't immediately dedicate himself to saving his whole crew and freeing them from slavery. You know I'm right.

As a Windrunner, Riz commands the surges of Adhesion and Gravitation. These aren't great fits for his real, very stealthy skillset - but if we're being honest Gravitation is the least thematically interesting surges anyway, and Adhesion is just the "cool nice guy" surge, which Riz already is.

lmk if this is the kind of content you're frothing at the mouth for and I can do more characters (I'm on my hands and knees give me characters to do this with it's so fun for me)

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #stormlight archive #adaine o'shaughnessey #fabian seacaster #fig faeth #kristen applebees #gorgug thistlespring #riz gukgak #knights radiant #truthwatcher #elsecaller #lightweaver #bondsmith #dustbringer #windrunner

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lovebaela · 19 days

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THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH

Chapter 2: Winter is Coming

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Pairing: °❆⋆Bran Stark x Targaryen OC .ೃ࿔*:･

CW: fem!oc, mostly fluff, and mentions of murder.꙳·❅°*˖

Rating: Mature audiences - The mature moments will happen later on. In the beginning, it will mostly just be cute fluff.⋆⁺₊❅.

(a/n) hey guys, I finally finished the masterlist so please check it out! I also recently made a ao3 account and I’ll start posting this series on there as well so stay tuned 🤍

Dividers by @sylasthegrim

Once the Stark boys came back, Bran said he wanted to show Rhaella something. He took her to the kitchens to show her. To her surprise, there were puppies! “Oh my gosh!” She gushed. “Bran, they are adorable!” He picked one up saying, “This one is mine! I haven’t decided on a name yet. They’re direwolf pups! There’s enough for all of the Stark children, even Jon!”

He handed the little pup to Rhaella. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you one. Maybe, we can share mine!”

The pup licked her cheek. “I’d like that!” She giggled. She turned to Arya. “Did you name yours?”

“Sure did!” She said. “Her name is Nymeria!”

Sansa scoffed. “The name of mine will be Lady. She’s going to be well behaved and good like me.”

Arya rolled her eyes.

Robb lifted up his pup, examining it. “I think I’ll name mine Greywind.”

“That’s so cool,” Bran said, jealous.

Rickon played with his pup. “I’m going to name mine…Shaggydog!” Everyone thought that was an odd name, but didn’t say anything, fearing that they would hurt the boy’s feelings.

The preparations continued for the King’s arrival. During Rhaella’s free time, she liked exploring Winterfell and interacting with the people. Although it took a while for the people to warm up to her, she was eventually called Winterfell’s delight. She was quite similar to Bran. A loving and outgoing child.

In the courtyard, Bran was receiving history lessons from Maester Luwin. Rhaella and Arya were waiting on him to finish, doing each other’s hair. Rhaella liked teaching Arya how to braid. She looked over at Bran, who was already glancing over at her. They both waved at each other until Maester Luwin wacked Bran on the head. “You need to focus,” the Maester said. The girls laughed.

“I think he’s really starting to like you.” Arya said.

“Really?” Rhaella asked.

“Are you kidding? He’s always staring at you. And don’t tell him I told you this, but after the first dinner you had with us, he told me you were very pretty.”

That made Rhaella blush. Does he really like me? Arya could just be teasing. We both agreed to just be friends. I wonder if Robb thinks I’m cute? If only I were older I would’ve been married to him instead.

After Bran was done, he decided to go climbing the castle walls. Rhaella didn’t feel like going with him, so she stayed by Lady Catelyn’s side. Bran’s direwolf pup also followed her around. He was growing at a rapid speed. Lady Stark was quite stressed making sure everything was perfect. Especially since the Lannisters were coming.

“Brandon!” Lady Stark yelled, as they walked outside to the courtyard.

“I see the king!” He shouted. “He’s got thousands of people!”

“Get down here right now!”

Once he gracefully made his way down his mother said, “how many times must I tell you, no more climbing! Promise me!”

Bran looked down at his feet and then answered, “I promise mother.”

“I noticed something, you always look at your feet before you lie…”

Bran chuckled, not denying it.

“Go let Ned know the king is close.”

Bran took Rhaella’s hand and they took off with their direwolf chasing behind them.

The stark family stood in a line as everyone else stood behind them. Jon was to the left of me while Theon Greyjoy was to my right. The gates opened for the King to trot in with his horse. Following him was his king’s guard and a boy on horseback. That must be his son, the prince. The blonde haired boy smiled at Sansa, and she smiled back at him. One knight hopped off of his horse, and took off his helmet. He had to have been the most beautiful man Rhaella’s ever seen. He had long golden blonde hair with emerald green eyes. “Jaime Lannister, the Queen’s twin brother,” Arya said, before Sansa hushed her.

“I heard the prince was a royal prick,” Theon whispered. He, at a young age, was sent to Winterfell by his own father, Balon Greyjoy. He made the terrible mistake of crowning himself king of the iron islands and starting a war. After their loss, Theon was sent away to Winterfell to be Lord Stark’s ward. Theon always viewed himself as a prisoner.

Then, came in the carriage with the Queen inside. She exited out of the carriage, looking slightly annoyed.

“Where’s the imp?” Arya asked Sansa.

“Please, just shut up!” Sansa asked.

We all bowed before the king and Queen as they made their way to Lord Stark. The King said hello to every member of the family. He made eye contact with Rhaella. She stiffened, not knowing what to do. “My king,” she said, curtsying. He gave a simple nod, and went about his way into the crypts with Lord Stark.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jon said, messing with her hair. She let out a relieved sigh, “no, thank goodness.”

Lady Stark had Rhaella, Arya, and Sansa get ready for the feast together.

“The prince is so handsome…” Sansa said, blushing. “I can’t believe the king wants me to marry him! Can we marry now or do we have to wait?”

Her mother stopped brushing her hair, “gods Sansa, your father hasn’t even made a decision yet!”

She turned to her, “please tell him to say yes! It’s all I could ever want!”

Lady Stark nodded, “we’ll see.”

Arya rolled her eyes, “not everything is about boys.”

Rhaella finally finished making her dress. The dress was a delicate light blue with a beautiful dragon embroidered on the neckline.

“That looks amazing!” Arya said.

“Thanks, learned from the best,” Rhaella replied smiling at Sansa.

“I suck at making my dresses…” Arya said.

“You still look very beautiful,” Lady Stark said. “You all do.”

Rhaella made her way to the Great Hall for the feast. She had to sit with Jon and the stable boys. “I like the dress,” Jon said. “Made it yourself?”

Rhaella nodded with a smile. Jon’s wolf, Ghost, laid his head on Rhaella’s lap.

“I guess Ghost likes it too,” Jon laughed.

“Do you boy?” She asked the white direwolf as it wagged its tail. Ghost was the runt of the litter and albino with red eyes. Jon named him ghost because he barely makes a sound.

Everyone watched as the Stark family entered the great hall one by one after the King and Queen. A few of them walked in with the King’s children. Robb with Princess Marcella, Sansa with Prince Joffrey, and Arya with Prince Tommen. The feast finally began.

Rhaella noticed Queen Cersei looking at her. Lady Catelyn gave a little nod, hinting her to come over. Rhaella took a deep breath and made her way over. Once she was before them, she curtsied. “My Queen, my Lady,” Rhaella said.

“Why aren’t you a precious thing?” The Queen asked. “Rhaella, isn’t it? Surely, a beautiful thing like you shouldn’t be hiding in the North, where it’s cold.”

“T-Thank you, my Queen! You look very beautiful yourself.” Rhaella smiled. The Queen had long gorgeous golden blonde hair and emerald green eyes. She truly was a sight to see.

“And your smile, like the sun entered the room and exploded,” the Queen added. “You’re free to go, and would you be a dear and tell Sansa to come over?”

Rhaella didn’t know how to feel about the last compliment, but curtsied again before walking away. Sansa was sitting with her friend Jeyne Poole, giggling and whispering. “Sansa,” Rhaella said. “The Queen wants to speak with you!” Sansa’s eyes lit up with joy, “Really, she wants me?” She quickly got up from her seat and walked over to them. Rhaella sat back down with Jon. “What did she want?” He asked, lifting his eyebrow. “Nothing really,” Rhaella replied. “Nothing bad, thank goodness.”

As everyone ate their food, Rhaella looked up at Arya. She had a mischievous look on her face. What will she do? She scooped a piece of pigeon pie, and aimed it at Sansa. She flicked the pie at her, hitting her cheek.

“Arya!” She shrieked. “She always does this!”

Robb picked Arya up and took her to her bed camber as the whole room laughed.

The musicians started to play their music, inviting everyone to the dance floor. I’d like to dance a little, but who would ask me?

୭ ₊ Bran ˚.

Bran watched as men brought their lady partners to the floor to dance. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “You should ask Rhaella to dance,” Robb said. “I think it would make her very happy.”

“She is your betrothed after all,” Theon added, teasing Bran.

Bran’s cheeks went red, “s-stop teasing me! What if she says no?”

“Believe me, she wouldn’t,” Robb said. “Besides, you should never be afraid of rejection.”

Easy for you to say, all the girls love you, even her…

Bran nodded and got up from his seat. He walked over to Rhaella, offering his hand, “Gaomagon jaelā naejot lilagon lēda nyke?”

She smiled and nodded, “Kessa!”

They both made their way to the dance floor, and began to mimic the moves of the pairs. “The dancing lessons really paid off,” she said. Bran agreed, “yeah! We’re doing good!”

The two of them continued to dance. “Bran, I think everyone is watching us!” She whispered. He glanced around the room. She was right, everybody was watching, even the king. “Don’t worry about them, just focus on me,” he told her. Everybody began to cheer for them, including the other Starks.

“That’s my brother!” Robb yelled.

That’s so embarrassing…

Rhaella laughed, making Bran blush.

୭ ₊ Rhaella ˚.

Once the song was over, Rhaella and Bran went back to their seats. Where’s Jon? She hopped off her seat and searched for him. She walked outside to find him training with his sword. “There you are,” Rhaella said. “You missed me and Bran dancing!”

“Don’t worry, I saw you two before I left outside. You both did great.” He said.

“I wish you could have danced with us.” She admitted.

They both heard another song playing from inside. Jon placed down his sword, and offered his hand, “well then, my lady, may I have this dance,” he asked, in a silly voice. Rhaella laughed and accepted. They both danced until the song was over. Rhaella and Bran went to Arya’s bed chamber to read another Targaryen story before going to bed. Arya set up a tent with her blanket so they could lay on their bellies on the floor. “We didn’t finish the dance of the dragons!” Arya said. “We left off on the part where Prince Jacerys went to Winterfell.”

Rhaella began to read from the book, “well it says here that he met Lord Cregan Stark, who also lost his younger brother. Jacerys reminded him so much of his sibling that they formed a brotherhood and they made the—”

“The pact of Ice and Fire.” They heard a voice say. All of a sudden, the blanket was yanked from above making the children scream. “It’s just me,” Lord Stark said. “All of you should be sleeping you know.”

“After this part of the story.” Bran said. “Please?”

Their father chuckled, “alright then, the pact was made between them to show the North’s support for the blacks during the dance. The Prince said once he’d have a daughter, she would marry Cregan’s son.”

“Did it happen?” Rhaella asked.

“No, the Prince died shortly after during a battle.” He answered.

Arya frowned, “so the pact was never fulfilled?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said messing with her hair. “That’s what war does, nothing but destruction and death. I despise it.”

“Imagine what it was like to have a war with that many dragons,” Bran said. “Maybe I don’t want to imagine it.”

Lord Stark agreed, “the poor dragons were the key ‘weapons’ in that war, nearly wiping all of them out.”

“And now they’re all gone.” Rhaella said.

“Perhaps they are,” he said. “Now, time for bed all of you.” Bran and Rhaella left the room and went to their own.

The next day, the girls had embroidery lessons with Princess Marcella. Nearly the whole time Sansa was giggling and whispering to her friends Jayne and Beth.

“What’s so funny?” Arya asked. “Tell me what y’all are giggling about!”

“The prince,” Sansa blushed. “He was very handsome at the feast. He even stared me.”

“I’m sure he also saw you get pigeon pied to the face,” Arya snickered. “Besides, Jon said he’s a spoiled brat.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, “Jon is just jealous that he is a bastard and not a prince!”

Arya and Rhaella gasped.

“Sansa, that’s so mean!” Rhaella said.

“It’s the truth,” Sansa said. “And I will be queen someday.”

Arya grabbed Rhaella’s hand, “let’s go see what Bran is up to!”

They made their way into the courtyard. They found the Stark and Baratheon boys together. Bran and Tommen were heavily padded with wooden swords.

They called for him and waved. “Good luck brother!” Arya yelled.

As the two boys were fighting, everyone could sense the tension between Robb and Prince Joffrey. They were smack talking each other the whole time. Their fight would certainly be interesting.

“I wish we could do that,” Arya sighed. “It would be fun!”

Rhaella agreed, “yeah, but alas, we are girls. Some books I’ve read said that outside of Westeros there are places where women are allowed to do anything men can.”

“I’d like to go there sometime.” She said.

“Same here.”

Tommen fell to the ground as Bran held his wooden sword at him. Wow, Bran would have made a great knight of the kingsguard, Rhaella said to herself. Then I showed up and ruined everything…

When it became dawn, the King and Lord Stark were leaving for a hunt with Robb and Theon following them. Bran and Rhaella watched as they trotted away on horseback. Lord Stark looked at them to wave goodbye. They smiled back and watched as the party left.

“My father will be hand of the king,” Bran said. “He’s leaving to King’s Landing tomorrow. He’s going to take us with him. Mother didn’t want me to go, but father thought that I could calm down the feud between Joffrey and Robb.”

“Did he mention me?” Rhaella asked. As scared as she was of the king, the Starks truly had become a family to her. She didn’t want to lose them.

“I asked father, they are still making a decision.” He said. “I’m sure the king will say yes. You are my betrothed after all.”

Bored, Bran and Rhaella explored Winterfell’s castle. They visited the stables where Hodor, a large and tall man, attended to Bran’s pony. Hodor was truly a mystery. All he ever said was ‘Hodor.’ No one knows why.

“I’ll have to leave him behind,” Bran said as he looked at the pony. Rhaella turned to Bran and noticed water in his eyes. She held his hand, whispering, “hey, it’s going to be okay.”

Bran sniffed, “sorry, I shouldn’t be crying. Boys don’t cry.”

“Everyone cries, Bran,” she reminded him. “There’s no shame in that.” She knew he wouldn’t believe her, but it wouldn’t hurt to try comforting a friend.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to leave,” he admitted. “This is my home. My real home.”

There was that word again, ‘home.’

Where’s my home?

The stable boys noticed the Stark boy crying and began to snicker. “What a baby!” One of them laughed. “Shut up!” Rhaella shouted. “That ‘baby’ is more important than any of you will ever be!” She grabbed Bran’s hand and they both took off.

The two children grew bored again, thinking of what to do next.

Bran gave her a mischievous smirk, “you wanna go climbing?”

“Bran, your mother said no!” She reminded him. “And I don’t feel like climbing right now…I’ll just watch.”

His direwolf pup began to chew on his shoe. “Come on you!” He told the pup. They found an abandoned tower in the distance. Bran pointed at it, “I’m going to climb that one!” Once they got there, Bran started climbing. Never once had he ever fell from climbing. Never.

Once Bran made it to the window, he looked confused. Before Rhaella could ask if something was wrong, she saw Bran get dragged in by a hand. Without thinking, she began to climb herself up the tower. She was halfway there until Bran was pushed from the window. She swiftly grabbed his hand, “hang on.” She held on as much as she could. “We’re going to fall!” He shouted. Her fingers began to slip from the wall. “We’re going to be okay—” she started to say until her fingers completely slipped off the wall. They both held onto each other as their bodies hit the ground. Everything went black.

“Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!”

Confused, Rhaella woke up in a crowd of people. They were all shouting at someone. She turned to where they were all facing and gasped. It was Sansa, the Queen, and Joffrey with his kingsguard. Except, Joffrey wore the crown of the king. Is this Kingslanding? “No!” Sansa yelled. “Please don’t do this!” Lord Stark was being executed! Rhaella wanted to shout, but she couldn’t. No! The knight drew out his sword, and lifted it up. Rhaella turned away, covering her eyes, before seeing his head get sliced off. What is going on?

“Dany, please!” A voice begged in fear.

Viserys?

She removed her hands to investigate, only to be in a completely different spot. She was inside a tent with many men and women. She knew it wasn’t Westeros due to the majority of people having darker skin with unfamiliar accents. There Viserys was, on his knees as two other men restrained him from moving. “A crown of a king,” The tall man said. He held a pot of melted gold over Viserys’ head and poured it over him. He screamed in agony until he could no longer say anything. His head slammed to the ground. He was dead!

“He was no dragon.”

Rhaella turned back to see Dany. She showed no emotion whatsoever after what just happened.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” she said, staring at his lifeless body.

There was a loud screech from the sky, startling Rhaella. Once she looked up, she couldn’t believe what was there before her. It was a dragon! The scales of the creature was a beautiful deep shade of blue, with a lighter shade going down its neck and under its wings. The dragon opened its mouth, letting out blue flames at her.

Rhaella let out a small groan. Her vision, at first, was blurry. All she could hear was a gasp.

“Gods be good!” A familiar voice exclaimed.

“My…lady?” Rhaella asked.

“Yes, sweet girl. It’s me.” She said.

Rhaella tried to stand, but she was weak.

“No, you need your rest.” She said. Rhaella could tell Lady Stark was relieved, but not completely. Bran was still sleeping in a bed next to hers.

“How long has it been?” Rhaella asked.

“A couple of days.” She answered. “You were in a coma.”

Rhaella’s stomach let out a vicious growl. She didn’t realize how hungry she was.

“You poor thing, all we could give the both you was honey and water while you were sleeping,” Lady Stark explained. “I’ll have someone bring food from the kitchen.”

“I tried to not let go,” Rhaella explained. “I was holding onto his hand while gripping the wall with my other hand.”

“Do you remember anything else before that?” She asked.

“Well, all I remember was him falling from the tower. He could have been pushed, but I didn’t see…”

That made Lady Stark want to ask more questions, but Rhaella didn’t have a lot of answers. They all left. Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya, and Jon. Rhaella didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. That made her sad. She wanted to cry, but refused to let any tears fall.

“Whoever did this to you will pay,” Lady Stark said coldly. “I promise you that.”

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