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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 3 years

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Nemesis: Retribution (2)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: MENTIONS OF SMUT FOR THIS CHAPTER. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, mentions of illnesses, momentary fluff, bit of angst care of Bucky, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, rejection, bullying, heartbreak, character death

A/N: I couldn’t resist not posting this early. Here you go. Next ones will probably take a while coz I have to be an actual adult for a bit.

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

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1:2 Dark Chocolate

A few days of rest was required to recover from a super soldier's punch. The doctors had said that you were lucky Steve hadn't punched you with full strength or else you would probably have a whole cracked rib cage. You were anxious to jump back in to training, not used to being idle for very long.

You were given some painkillers at the clinic and ordered to stay there for the rest of the afternoon for monitoring. When you woke up, it was early evening and a blonde super soldier was napping on a steel chair next to your bed. He jumped when you moved to sit up, his heightened senses alarmed and disoriented for a second before he quickly switched to repeatedly apologizing to you. You laughed out loud. It was just a little ridiculous to you to see such a commanding presence in the field so charmingly boyish and adorably embarrassed.

Steve was a comforting presence but to be honest you were hoping to see Bucky. You didn't get a chance to thank him since he left immediately after the doctors had ushered you into the examination room. Once you were cleared to return to training, you caught sight of his long brunette hair and the bright smile on your face couldn't be stopped. It was the glare he pinned you with that made you halt your approach.

He was back to his disapproval of your very existence.

You had to admit that it stung. You thought that you were getting somewhere with him after he helped you. At least somewhere outside of the realm of outward disdain. And maybe you were hoping just a little bit that it could lead down the road to him feeling the same about you.

The timing was perfect when you were assigned to your first official mission with the Avengers. It was a chance to prove your worth to the team and to Bucky in particular. A chance to maybe make him see you as more than just a troublesome recruit.

You came back from the mission with your head held high and absolutely glowing with confidence at the kudos from Sam and Natasha. The great Natasha Romanoff had complimented your sniping skills, picking off enemies in her area even before she could aim her own gun at them.

The first thing you wanted to do after getting back to the Compound was to tell Bucky. You wanted to brag a little bit and maybe even thank him for the mentoring. If he hadn’t been so hard on you then you wouldn’t have pushed yourself to be at this level. You were skipping down the halls of the Compound in search for him, clutching the bullet casing from your first official Avenger kill.

FRIDAY had informed you that he was in the training area and you were bouncing on your feet with excitement. As you entered though the place was empty, the rest of the agents having retired to the mess halls. You ventured further in, trusting FRIDAY’s intel until you heard some noises coming from the adjacent armory. You smiled, he must be cleaning his guns again.

As you got closer, the noise began to get louder until you could make out what was undeniably pleasured moaning, one low and gravelly while the other more high pitched. You should have turned away, if only for the privacy of the couple who was wrapped up in their passion, but your curiosity pushed you to come closer and peak through the small crack in the door.

The brief image that you saw made you instantly draw back, a shaking hand pressed to your mouth to silence the shocked gasp. You backed away slowly, your mind struggling to process what you had just seen, then your flight response kicked in and you ran like hell out of there. The scene was burning a hole in your brain and caused your skin to grow cold. Sergeant Barnes rutting hard against a woman wrapped around his waist, his glinting eyes locked with yours, and a cocky sneer on his face.

You didn’t go to dinner that night or to the team celebration for a successful first mission. You chose instead to lay in your bunk with tears burning in your eyes and trying to erase the memory of your discovery. Of course he was already dating someone. A man of his caliber was sure to have a line-up of gorgeous eager women at his disposal. He probably had no interest in boring recruits like yourself. The woman he was throwing into bliss must be some supermodel or high ranking spy. How did you even end up deluding yourself that you could possibly catch his eye?

The rest of your roommates filtered in after a few hours, chatting away noisily about the party. Anna had come to sit on the edge of your bed and ran a comforting hand along your arm, concern clearly etched on her face.

“I’m fine. Just tired. The mission really wore me out,” you muttered with a small smile. You weren't ready to talk about it yet.

“Personally I think I had better success today than all of you,” Kim’s shrill voice cut through the good natured conversations in the room.

She wasn’t part of the group taken on the mission, claiming beforehand that she was ill. A chorus of curious why’s rang out through the group and she preened at once again being the center of attention.

“Well I just had the fuck of a lifetime from none other than Sergeant James Barnes.”

The room of women burst into chaos; squeals of disbelief, rapid fire questions on how big he was and how good of a lay was he, were they dating now or was this a fuck buddy situation. Of course Kim was more than happy to entertain each question.

You tuned all of it out, the noise turning into an annoying ringing in your ear. You turned around to face the wall as the silent tears that refused to be contained any longer fell to wet your pillow. You barely registered Anna squeezing your shoulder or the words that Kim threw your way.

“Sorry, Y/N. I guess I was just more Bucky’s type.”

You curled yourself into a tighter ball as the pain in your chest radiated across your whole body. You had assumed wrong about Bucky. It seemed that he wasn’t opposed to dating new recruits.

He was just opposed to you.

The taunting from Kim continued on and you just couldn't take it any longer. You brushed the tears away, grabbed your sweater, and marched yourself to the door. You needed to get some air. You needed to get away. Anywhere but there. You wrenched open the door and almost came crashing straight toward a solid chest. Your eyes travelled up to lock with the kind blue gaze of Captain America. You wondered why Steve was standing at the doors of your bunkers holding a pack of beer in his hand.

"Good evening, ladies," he said to the room of now suddenly speechless females. "I'm just going to borrow Y/N for a bit."

The crowd remained in shocked silence while you stared at him in confusion as he smiled sweetly down at you. He had gone looking for you when he didn't see you at the celebration after Natasha and Sam had sang your praises to him at your performance. He wanted to congratulate you and bring you a drink for a job well done.

"Come on. I know a good spot," he said, placing a hand on your back and guiding you out.

Steve brought you to the top of an observatory in the Compound. It was quiet, peaceful, and offered a great view. He cracked open a bottle for you and the conversation just flowed naturally. He kept making you laugh until your sides hurt with stories about his time as a performer in the military and all the unfortunate videos that came with it. You were crying with pure joy when he relented and re-enacted his buy military bonds act, your earlier darkened mood forgotten for the moment.

Steve felt like he did something right when your glassy eyes and defeated expression was replaced with clear amusement. Even if it was at his expense. He wouldn't ask what the reason was, but he felt happy he made you feel better.

"Thank you, Steve," you muttered before you parted ways. Somehow both of you understood that it was more than just for the drink.

You promised yourself then that you would give yourself tonight to weep over your unfortunate romantic feelings. Only for tonight. Come morning you would focus all your energy on what you actually came here to do; become an Avenger. You slept fitfully that night, the shell casing from your first mission still gripped in your hand.

You made a conscious effort after that day to limit your interactions with Bucky and Kim to polite clipped conversations. At first Bucky had been surprised at your change in attitude, your blank expression and sparse words causing a momentary guilt to flash in his eyes. You had chosen instead to spend more time with Steve and the twins, your mood obviously brighter around them.

You were sitting now in a large conference room for a briefing on the next mission with a handful of other recruits when Sam Wilson sent you out to fetch the rest of the Avengers who were running late and not responding.

"Can you get them for me, sweetheart?" he chuckled, knowing that you blushed uncontrollably each time he used a nickname on you.

FRIDAY had directed you to the private common room exclusive for their use. You were about to knock on the door when you heard your name in the middle of what sounded like a heated argument. Against your better judgement, you leaned in closer.

"I don't think Y/N's cut out to be part of this team."

Your heart dropped. The conviction in Bucky's voice was clear. It was one thing for your infatuation with him to be forcefully thrown back at your face, but for him to explicitly state to a set of people that you held at such high esteem that you were not good enough was a whole other vicious heartbreak.

Lily was wrong. This time you should have known when to quit.

You forced yourself to crack the door wider and step inside, clearing your throat to announce your presence. You didn't see the startled look on their faces or the guilty one that followed when they realized that you had heard. One look at your sad glistening eyes that refused to look up confirmed it. Natasha and Steve both threw Bucky a deadly glare.

"Sam wants you all at a briefing. I was sent to come get you."

Your voice was so small and unsteady, none of the easy happiness and optimistic determination that it usually carried. Bucky felt the shame burn through him, the guilt drowning him in an instant. You weren't supposed to hear that. He took a step towards you, instinct driving him to do anything to wipe that defeated look off your face, but a threatening look from the twins pinned him in place.

"We'll walk back with you, little star," Pietro said softly, appearing beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Wanda came on the other side, looping your arm with hers.

For the rest of the briefing, you strained with the effort of focusing on Sam while blatantly ignoring Bucky. You knew he was staring a hole at the back of your head, but you couldn't allow yourself to give him any satisfaction by looking back. You were soon assigned your tasks, you being placed on sniper duty again having performed well the last time.

It was supposed to be a run of the mill mission for intel and taking out a criminal base, but with the expectation of more hostiles so a slightly bigger team was necessary. You practically flew out of the room when you were dismissed, not giving anyone a chance to talk to you. A decision was solid in your mind now for when you got back.

This would be your last mission.

The ride on the jet to the location was spent with you cleaning your gear and checking your weapons. You were sliding a few knives in place when Bucky came in front of you holding out another set of knives for you to take.

"You know if you tilt the hilt to the left you can fit more in one holster," he said.

It was odd hearing him with almost warmth in his tone toward you. If it had happened yesterday, you probably would be celebrating this fact. You nodded at him, but didn't say a word.

"Remember to keep your head low and stay on your post. Okay, doll?"

You nodded wordlessly again. Because you made a point not to look at his face, you missed the way he was struggling to say more to you and the disheartened look when you obviously weren't going to answer him. You ignored him for the rest of the ride, choosing to focus on reviewing the intel.

As far as bad intel could go, this had to be the worst. You were perched up on a densely covered hill a good distance away from the base that the rest of the team were storming. You were picking off as many hostiles coming out of the base as quick as your hands would allow. Your fingers were starting to ache from the constant reloading, your eyes stung from the gunpowder, and your lip was already bleeding from biting down on it.

The noise in the comms was pure mayhem. Each team member trying to ask for help, for backup, for a plan. You had all come expecting a fight but not an army prepared to defend. You were certainly not expecting HYDRA.

"They have Bucky."

Three words spoken that sent a cold dread to wash over all of you. HYDRA couldn't be allowed to take Bucky. You abandoned your post without a second thought and sprinted down toward the base, pistols at the ready for anyone coming your way.

"Last location," you asked urgently as you slipped into the building shooting down two agents immediately.

"West wing. Near the last corridor," Steve grunted, clearly having a hard time on his end. "Y/N, do not engage!"

"I'm the closest one, Cap."

"I'm close too. Just a little busy," Natasha huffed. "I'll follow, Y/N. Steve, we need to get the hell out of here."

Steve had reluctantly agreed, seeing that there was no other choice. He quickly barked orders and commanded you to keep safe. You nodded although he couldn't see it as you wove through the corridors at full speed in search of your teammate. The moment you barged into that last room, your eyes found an unconscious Bucky immediately.

Seeing him in that chair horrified you; shirt ripped, bleeding in several areas, skin pale and cold with sweat, chest rising and falling far too rapidly, and eyes that were unresponsive. You were so distracted by the jarring image that you failed to notice the operatives across the room until the bullets were burning through your soft flesh.

You screamed from the pain, but raised your gun and fired back until you heard their bodies thud heavily on the floor. You clutched at your side, the amount of wet blood pouring out was alarming. You pushed your own welfare aside and hurriedly undid Bucky's restraints. It was a struggle to sit up a semi-conscious super soldier and when you took his weight on your shoulders, you collapsed to the floor at the intense pain in your arm. You hadn't realized that you had multiple shots there too.

You gritted your teeth and groaned at the effort of lifting you both up, your blood soaking through your gear as well as Bucky's. You huffed painfully with each step but you just had to get him out of there. You could have kissed Natasha square in the mouth when you saw her come barreling towards you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!" she winced at your state before taking Bucky's other side. Apparently you looked as bad as you felt. "We gotta move fast. I hear more of them coming up this way. This path is clear."

Having Natasha's help in carrying Bucky alleviated some of the burden from you and made you all move faster, but the blood loss was already starting to make your vision blurry and the adrenaline was wearing off. Through the haze, you could also hear the rapidly approaching footsteps. Soon you would be basically useless and you knew there was no way Natasha could carry you both out while fighting off a hoard of enemies.

"Natasha," you said quietly, your steps faltering.

"No. Keep going goddamn it!" Natasha cried.

She knew what you were thinking. She had assessed the situation too and come to the same miserable conclusion. You smiled sadly at her angry eyes and shaking head as you let go of your hold on Bucky. Her eyes widened further as you limped toward the doors behind you and locked them tight before raising your guns to aim right at anyone who would come through them.

She didn't miss how your hands were shaking and your shot arm could barely hold up, the way you scowled deeper in pain with each movement, or how your uniform was soaked in your own blood and slowly forming a pool at your feet. Ghastly as you looked, you turned your head and tossed her another gentle smile. You were basically going to use yourself as a human shield for them and yet you were comforting her. You were reassuring her.

"Check on my sister for me, yeah?"

Natasha wanted to insist on another plan. Anything other than leave you behind to hold off the nearing enemy units. Shouting and gunfire from the other side of the door forced her to make a decision. She cursed sharply under her breath and dragged Bucky away with her, the regret heavy on her heart for having to leave you behind.

You stepped further back and supported your weak body against the wall after Natasha had thankfully left. The enemy was trying their hardest to barge through the door, ramming into it and shooting their guns at the locks. It wouldn't be long now before they manage to breach it.

You took a moment to spare a thought for your sister. A part of you was saddened to think of her grief after she finds out that you had done the most heroic thing anyone could ever do.

Sacrifice.

Another part of you was relieved knowing that she had Jill and she wouldn't be alone in that grief. When you decided this morning that this would be your last mission, you didn't necessarily expect it to be in this way.

"I'm sorry, Lily."

Natasha managed to get Bucky back to the jet where the rest of the team were all converging, still fighting off operatives chasing after them. There just didn't seem to be any end to them.

"I'm going back for Y/N!" she yelled to the team as she dropped Bucky on the floor of the jet. There was no time to be gentle, she had to hurry back to help you out.

"What do you mean? Where the hell is Y/N, Nat?" Steve shouted as he grabbed her arm.

"She stayed behind to hold off the ones chasing us so we could get out. I have to go back!"

"I will go. I can get her out," Pietro volunteered at once but he doubled over immediately from the extensive wounds on his torso.

Natasha was already sprinting back into the compound, not willing to waste another minute. She made it only a few feet before the entire facility exploded into a fiery inferno that quickly ravaged it and threw her farther back.

The entire team watched in horror as the explosions continued on several parts of the structure. The area was quickly getting engulfed by the flames and smoke. Steve had to force everyone onto the jet and bodily carry a shell shocked Natasha.

No one could have possibly survived that.

------------------------------

Natasha steadied her breath as she quietly landed on a perch high above in the rafters of a seedy warehouse. Wanda joined her seconds later, weaving her magic to better cloak them. The other twin was running a lap around the perimeter and would join them later.

She was assigned weird missions all the time. Missions that had very little to doubtful intel was common. This mission though was by far the strangest she's ever gotten. There was a very small list of vague things that were told to them; the time and location, not to intervene, to remain unseen until the target was ready, bring the target to the Compound.

She was slightly annoyed, but she complied anyway. She was curious too as the mission was given in secret to only the three of them. A million questions was speeding through her mind as she observed the activity below. It looked like a regular run of the mill drug den filled with busy workers and roving guards.

"How many, Wanda?" Natasha whispered.

"I sense more than 25 of them. All armed, but with much fear."

A gust of wind signaled the return of the other twin. He had a frown on his face and a concerned look in his eyes. "There is another one, but this one does not seem to be with them."

Natasha was starting to sincerely doubt this mission when a fast movement from the shadows caught her eye. By the way the twins perked up too, they surely had seen it. They followed the figure as it slipped through the darkness, almost losing track if they hadn't noticed that the guards were quickly dwindling in number. Natasha was growing worried, this was surely a highly skilled group of assassins. Pietro must have been mistaken. They were clean and efficient too.

All of a sudden a gunfight broke out below them. A figure completely clad in black, strolled casually out from the shadows with a pistol in each hand firing precisely at their targets. They confidently charged closer, unfazed as they greeted the gunfire. They continued to tear viciously through the crowd with a deadly mix of combat, bullets, and blades.

The workers had drawn their weapons by now as well, but they were quickly killed off with barbaric aggression. It did not take long for the floor below to become a sea of blood and lifeless bodies. One person remained barely alive, hanging on to his middle to keep his internal organs from spilling out from the wide gash. The attacker came to him, nonchalantly stepping over decimated bodies. They couldn't hear what was exchanged from this distance, only the choked scream that followed as he was stabbed straight through the throat. His blood spurting out like a broken faucet.

Natasha had been in this profession for a while, but she has never seen this level of unrestrained violence.

One person.

One single person had cleared out a base of approximately 30 people. Natasha was growing more and more worried. Clearly this person was at the very least an enhanced and even with the twins with her, they were not prepared to face someone powered.

What kind of bloodthirsty lunatic does this?

"You can come down now."

All three of them froze in place. Looking down, the attacker was staring right at them with cloaked eyes. Reluctantly and very slowly, Wanda used her powers to float them down carefully keeping a good distance from this murderer.

From this close they could now see that they were in full military tactical gear in what was originally all matte black, but now had an explosion of dripping red. Combat boots, fitted cargo pants, a long sleeved shirt underneath a tight bulletproof vest, gloves, a loose hood over their head, and a cloth mask around the lower half of their face.

"Should have known something was up when my team mentioned seeing a really fast man."

The shivers that travelled through every expanse of skin on Natasha, was a reaction to that voice. It sounded strangely familiar yet unknown, but something in her mind was denying her from piecing it together. The moment the hood was dropped to reveal their eyes was when she spiraled into a complete icy shock. They were eyes that had haunted her for the past ten years. Haunted all of them. The only difference was that the eyes in her memories were smiling warmly.

The bloodied face mask was lowered to reveal a face they mourned, unmistakable and yet completely different. White raised scars branched out like weaving vines from the right side of the neck to just above the jaw and the ears. They were obviously old and healed but still raised and prominent, adding an even more dangerous edge to the menacing look on their face.

Your face.

"Hello, Natasha. Pietro. Wanda."

10 years after they had watched you tragically perish in a burning HYDRA facility, you stood before three of a group of people you had unknowingly tormented all these years.

The earpiece you wore crackled to life. "Blackbird to Hedwig. I have a visual. Should I shoot them?"

You smirked. There was no need for that. At least not right now.

"Hey, Blackbird. Tell Raven I'll be late for dinner. I have a reunion to get to."

------------------------------

A/N: Tell me which pairing or combination in this harem you’re most looking forward to. Smut or otherwise. I’m still rearranging scenes and working out smut. There is a long list of kinks. I need help.

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cappymightwrite · 3 years

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So I’ve just read your meta on the TWOW Alayne I sample chapter (it’s amazing btw!) and I noticed something while reading it that I wanted to share and see if anybody else has noticed - nearly every man Alayne dances with during the feast could be taken as a reference to Jon or the Night’s Watch.

Ben Coldwater -> Snow is, obviously, cold water, and Ben is a sneaky Benjen reference

Andrew Tollett -> most likely related to Dolorous Edd Tollett, Jon’s old steward and good friend

Ser Byron the Beautiful -> GRRM has described Jon as a Byronic hero

Ser Morgarth and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse -> these men are more dubious, I’m not really sure of the link with Morgarth. Shadrich is a callback from Brienne’s AFFC plot though, and a sign that Sansa’s cover isn’t as secure as she and Littlefinger think it is

Ser Albar Royce - a reference to Waymar Royce, he of the many Jon parallels and Sansa’s old crush, though she finds his cousin(?) stout and dull

The Sunderlands - their family are the lords of the Three Sisters. In ADWD, Davos is told a story on Sweetsister about Ned having to sneak across the Bite during Robert’s Rebellion, to get North and call his banners. A fisherman helped him but drowned when a storm caught their boat - but his daughter got Ned safely to the Sisters. The prevailing story on the islands seems to be that he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly, whom she named after Jon Arryn

Uther Shett - I was half-convinced this guy also had a relative on the wall, because his name (insulting pun aside) seems to be a reference to Chett, the prologue POV of ASOS who had a grudge against Jon for losing him his position as one of Maester Aemon’s stewards in favour of Sam

Ser Targon the Halfwild - Jon will likely be half-wild when he comes back from the dead, but he’s already been described as ‘half a wildling’ multiple times. Also Targon = Targ-Jon?

Ser Roland and Ser Wallace Waynwood - both are described earlier in the chapter as long-faced with brown hair, which are also Stark features. Alayne thinks of them as “horsefaced”, probably an Arya reference that also calls back to her and Jon’s shared Stark look. Wallace is even the same age as Robb, and thus Jon, would be.

So though Jon wasn’t mentioned by name in the chapter, I think he was very present... not just lemoncake-wise ;)

Thank you! :D Haha for a moment there I was like...wait which meta? Had to take my mind back for a sec there because I've written quite a bit since then! But yeah, doing deep dives into certain chapters is really fun — my next one that's in the works is Jon XI in A Dance With Dragons. Great to hear you enjoyed my Winds one :)

Ooooh that is really interesting and a mighty fine catch! Definitely the vibe I got whilst reading that chapter, after having analysed Alayne II, AFFC (which chronologically precedes it), is that Jon's presence or references to him are made subtly throughout the chapter(s) — especially whenever Winterfell is alluded to because Jon is the "Snow of Wintefell", the "blood of Winterfell", etc. But also vice versa, Sansa is very much connected to Winterfell in Jon's chapters as well — "Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa."

But let's take a look at those names you listed below the cut! Big post ahead, so buckle up kids!

So, I hadn't noticed the significance of those names on my reading, but I can well believe what you're suggesting because it plays very much into how I interpreted the subconscious goings on of that chapter — that you have these rememberances/reminders of Winterfell and Sansa's Stark idenity at crucial moments within the chapter’s narrative pacing, especially prior to moments with Harry the Heir. Not to sound too crass, but it's sort like a marking of territory, and this is made even stronger by that goddamn phallic as hell Giant's Lance lemoncake (aka Jon's peen). It's all quite neatly buried, but when you start matching up the imagery...I mean, I guess wolves are territorial beasts, so...checks out? (George...why are you like this?)

It is interesting that we get that iconic entrance of the Giant's Lance lemoncake prior to these dance partners, i.e. a claim has been staked essentially, and it ain't from Littlefinger, which is what could be interpreted on first inspection. And let's not beat around the bush, as uncomfortable as it is (because Sansa is ONLY 13/14!!), this is a sexual claim being made owing to the phallic symbolism and the general tone of the chapter being about Alayne's betrothal/marriage:

And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar.

For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out.

I legit just snorted re-reading this: "splendid subtlety" MY ASS! What follows is a whole lot of gift-giving, which come to think of it, in combination with this bloody big cake...well, it reads quite a bit like a wedding breakfast to me, followed by dancing, in addition to a possible nod to a Stark bridal cloak, masked by the Arryn colours:

There were gifts as well, splendid gifts. Each of the competitors received a cloak of cloth-of-silver and a lapis brooch in the shape of a pair of falcon��s wings. Fine steel daggers were given to the brothers, fathers, and friends who had come to watch them tilt. For their mothers, sisters, and ladies fair there were bolts of silk and Myrish lace.

Because if we compare this "cloak of cloth-of-silver" with previous descriptions of Sansa's maiden cloak, we see this obvious recurring inclusion of either silver or grey as one of the Stark colours:

Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain.

A maiden's cloak. Sansa's hand went to her throat. She would have torn the thing away if she had dared. – ASOS, Sansa III

"[...] and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back...why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright [...]" – AFFC, Alayne II

This is all very in keeping with the theme of the chapter, which is meeting Alayne's betrothed, Harrold Hardyng, so obviously a future marriage/alliance is very much a prevalent theme here. Furthermore, the mention of "Myrish lace" for the "ladies fair" does somewhat remind me of Alys Karstark's wedding garb:

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled.

"Winter's lady." Jon squeezed her hand. – ADWD, Jon X

I think some other people have mentioned before how even though Jon makes a conscious comparison between Arya and Alys — "reminded Jon so much of his little sister" — the romanticised, flushed cheeked imagery very much points towards a subconsious allusion to Sansa (ETA: anyone spoken on this got a link?). With that in mind, we could see this as foreshadowing of not only Jonsa, but a Jonsa wedding, and Sansa as Queen in the North — "a frosty crown" "Winter's lady" — with Jon as her king/consort. In my current Jon chapter analysis I've been working with the idea that actually as soon as Jon starts romanticising a girl, which is notably different from just noticing someone's physical beauty (e.g. with Val), that is when the subconscious comparisons to Sansa really jump out.

But anyway! Onto those names...or rather, Jon Snow stand-ins.

Rising, [Ben Coldwater] offered Alayne his hand. “Would you honor me with this dance, my lady?”

“You’re very kind,” she said, as he led her to the floor.

He was her first partner of the evening, but far from the last. Just as Petyr had promised, the young knights flocked around her, vying for her favor. After Ben came Andrew Tollett, handsome Ser Byron, red-nosed Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse. Then Ser Albar Royce, Myranda’s stout dull brother and Lord Nestor’s heir. She danced with all three Sunderlands, none of whom had webs between their fingers, though she could not vouch for their toes. Uther Shett appeared to pay her slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet, but Ser Targon the Halfwild proved to be the soul of courtesy. After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment. When the dance was done she excused herself, and went back to her place to have a drink of wine.

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. “Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?”

She considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

If I've counted that right, that's 14 men? Alright, here we go.

First up...Ben Coldwater

I think you're right that Ben Coldwater feels very much like a nod to Ben-jen Stark, who is referred to as Ben a few times I think, and Jon Snow (cold water = snow), both men of the Night's Watch. House Coldwater also traces its lineage back to the First Men, and are sworn to House Royce, who are also notably descended from the First Men, have previously married into the Stark family and still maintain close connections to the current house through Ned's fosterage in the Vale. So, through the Royces, we see another possible connection to the Starks and Jon Snow...Jon Snow who was named after Jon Arryn.

I would also add that we have Ben make this inquiry prior to his dance with Alayne:

“Are there no singers?” asked Ben Coldwater.

I don't know, maybe I'm reaching but...singers feature quite a lot in connection to Jon, for instance:

Mance Rayder, who infiltrates Winterfell disguised as a singer called Abel, an anagram of Bael, aka Bael the Bard;

Bael the Bard and the Blue Rose of Winterfell — a story told to Jon by Ygritte, which very much evokes the tale of Rhaegar and Lyanna;

Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon's real father, was a notably skilled lyre player, whose singing supposedly made Lyanna cry — "The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle," (ASOS, Bran II). He is also theorised to have written the song Jenny of Oldstones, possibly for the Ghost of High Heart, Jenny's friend.

Ygritte — when Jon starts to find her more attractive, when he starts to romanticise her, he observes that "sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him," (ASOS, Jon II).

Val — again, we start to see Jon begin to warm to Val, to see her in more of a romantic + typically feminine light, because of her singing to the baby Monster: "I have heard you singing to him," (ADWD, Jon VIII).

Sansa — oh, my sweet Sansa...when remembering his family, not quite in his dying moments, but a little bit prior to that, Jon thinks "Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow," (ADWD, Jon XIII).

I think it's clear that Jon loves a good song and you know what? He'd probably be asking about the lack of singers too! One final detail perhaps worth noting is the seat of House Coldwater:

[...] the Coldwaters of Coldwater Burn [...] – TWOIAF, The Vale

Obviously, the "song of ice and fire" is not a person, but more the elemental and destructive forces of the Others and the dragons, yet nevertheless, through Jon's parentage, as well as his actions (burned hand, etc.), plus his personality to a certain extent (hot-headed then repressing emotions) you do have this duality of hot and cold, of fire and ice...Coldwater Burn? Could be something.

Ser Andrew Tollett

So, like you said, the name Tollett immediately puts us in mind of Eddison Tollett, also known as Dolorous Edd, who is like Jon, a black brother of the Night's Watch. And he is a good brother to Jon, voting for him in the election for the Lord Commander, as well as becoming his loyal steward for a time, before being sent on a mission to Long Barrow. Interestingly, Dolorous Edd, as well as the Tolletts in general, do have a bit of a Stark vibe to them...

Like a typical Stark, Dolorous Edd is described as having a "long face" (ACOK, Jon III), a face like a mule's to be exact, but also notably a horse's as well:

"[...] Me, I have the mules. Nettles claims we're kin. It's true we have the same long face, but I'm not near as stubborn [...]" – ADWD, Jon XII

He only wished he had time to kill Tollett as well. Gloomy horsefaced fool, that's what he is. – ASOS, Prologue

He is given the nickname Dolorous Edd (dolorous = mournful), and is referred to several times as being "dour" (ACOK, Jon II, Jon III, ASOS, Jon V, ADWD, Jon XII, XIII), an attribute not entirely out of place when we consider some notable Starks and their disposition, as well as their house words:

He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. – AGOT, Tyrion II

Winter is coming. The Stark words had never sounded so grim or ominous to Jon as they did now. – AGOT, Jon VIII

I gave my maidenhood to this solemn stranger and sent him off to his war and his king and the woman who bore him his bastard, because I always did my duty. – ACOK, Catelyn VI

Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages [...] And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face. – ASOS, Catelyn V

So, not unlike Jon, Arya and Ned, Dolorous Edd has a "long and solemn" face (AGOT, Arya I), as well as a "dour" personality. Furthermore, even House Tollet of Grey Glen's sigil and words have Stark vibes, since according to semi-canon sources, their shield is "pily grey and black" and their words are "When all is darkest," which arguably carries the same ominous, Long Night warning of "Winter is coming". In addition to this, like the Coldwaters, the Tollets are sworn to the First Men descended Royces.

But beyond this, if we take a look at some legendary and historical Tolletts...we actually have two notable names:

Torgold Tollett — also known as Torgold the Grim, though ironically, because he was famous for riding into battle laughing, and naked from the waist up:

The songs say that Torgold knew no fear and felt no pain. Though bleeding from a score of wounds, he cut a red swathe through Lord Redfort's staunchest warriors, then took his lordship's arm off at the shoulder with a single cut. Nor was he dismayed when the sorceress Ursula Upcliff appeared upon a bloodred horse to curse him. By then he was bare-handed, having left both of his axes buried in a foe's chest, but the singers say he leapt upon the witch's horse, grasped her face between two bloody hands, and tore her head from her shoulders as she screamed for succor. – TWOIAF, The Vale

Ser Jon Tollett — In Fire & Blood, Jon Tollett is recorded as a member of King Maegor the Cruel's Kingsguard. After the king's mysterious death, his successor, King Jaeherys I, offered Maegor's surviving Kingsguard a choice between execution or taking the black. Jon Tollett chose the latter. This somewhat parallels Ned's decision to take the black, to a certain extent.

You could argue that there are more than a few similarities, or future foreshadowings, between these Tolletts and Jon Snow...

Ser Byron the Beautiful

Like you mentioned, Jon Snow has been described by GRRM as a "Byronic, romantic hero". I'm so annoyed with myself, because I had written up some good stuff on how Jon really does possess certain Byronic traits but as I was inserting a gif it ended up deleting most of what I wrote...so I'm still a bit bitter over that, but will rewrite it at some point soon. Take my word for it though, Jon Snow is 100% more of a Byronic Hero (a la Byron's own Manfred), than Sandor Clegane, for example:

GRRM: “Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love.” [source]

Ser Byron, as well as being described as beautiful, is also notably very gallant, the perfect knight:

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders. – AFFC, Alayne II

We all know that Sansa appreciates a bit of genuine courtesy, and in fact, she's taught Jon well in that regard:

"Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower."

"That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her. – ACOK, Jon III

I think this Jon stand-in does rely mostly on Jon's connection to the Byronic Hero. So, if anyone is still a bit dubious on that (because Rochester and Heathcliff are trash), just hang in there for my eventual meta on the subject, which focuses on Lord Byron's OG Byronic Hero, rather than the later Brontë/Victorian iterations.

In fact, in terms of Jon's parentage and future romance with Sansa, there's one Byronic tale that may be a particular source of inspiration — The Bride of Abydos. This poem notably includes a romance in which half-siblings are revealed to be cousins...sound familiar?

Ser Morgarth the Merry

Another hedge knight, like Ser Byron, who is sworn into the service of Petyr Baelish. I've got to agree with you here, red-nosed Ser Morgarth's connection to Jon is quite a bit harder to decipher! I have done a little digging though, and it is possible that the Garth in Morgarth is a reference to several Garths that appear in Jon's chapters, as well as Garth Greenhand, the alleged ancestor of legendary House Stark founder...Brandon the Builder:

Garth of Oldtown

Garth of Greenaway

Garth Greyfeather

All of these Garths are rangers/members of the Night's Watch at the same time as Jon, though I think by Dance it is presumed that they are all dead, or at least missing — in fact, Garth of Greenaway kills Garth of Oldtown. Garth on Garth violence!!

Haha, oh god...I think I just got the pun...Morgarth = More Garth! More Garths the merrier! Get it?! More Garths everybody!

George, I hate you.

Ok, so that's what that is. It's literally just a dumb pun, yet it also connects Morgarth to the Night's Watch Garths, and therefore Jon.

Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse

I think you're right that Ser Shadrich's presence connects us to Brienne's quest, as well as foreshadowing potential shit hitting the fan at the tourney of the Winged Knights. But he also notably makes some interesting remarks, both to Brienne and Sansa, which we can connect to Jon Snow's secret Targaryen heritage:

"Where?" Brienne slapped another silver stag down.

He flicked the coin back at her with his forefinger. "Someplace no stag ever found...though a dragon might." – AFFC, Brienne III

On the surface, in response to Brienne's questioning about the whereabouts of the Stark sisters, Shadrich is talking about a monetary bribe. However, beneath that explicit meaning, is an implicit reference to a stag (Joffrey) failing, where a dragon (Jon) will succeed. Others have talked about this line in more detail elsewhere, but it seems like a pretty good allusion to the foils, Joffrey (a prince who is really a bastard) and Jon (a bastard who is really a prince).

In this exact Winds chapter, however, we also see a conversation between Alayne and Shadrich, which hints at his possible plans to uncover and abduct Sansa Stark in return for a lucrative reward:

“A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that’s not likely, is it?”

This "stumbl[ing] on a bag of dragons" could also be seen as an implicit nod towards stumbling upon Jon's Targaryen heritage later in the novel, something that is more "likely" than anyone would expect. That claim might be a reach, were it not for the implication that when Shadrich talks about money, i.e. dragons...he isn't actually talking about gold coins, he's talking about Targaryens, but more than that...he's talking specifically about Jon Snow.

Ser Albar Royce

"Myranda’s stout dull brother and Lord Nestor’s heir." I think like Ser Morgarth, the physical appearance of these stand-ins doesn't always play a factor, because it would be kind of unnerving if they all had solemn long faces... So, what is important here is, like you say, the name Royce and his relation to Ser Waymar Royce, Sansa's first crush, who just happens to resemble and parallels Jon quite a bit:

She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. – AFFC, Alayne I

Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife. Mounted on his huge black destrier, the knight towered above Will and Gared on their smaller garrons. He wore black leather boots, black woolen pants, black moleskin gloves, and a fine supple coat of gleaming black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather. Ser Waymar had been a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch for less than half a year, but no one could say he had not prepared for his vocation. At least insofar as his wardrobe was concerned. – AGOT, Prologue

Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast. – AGOT, Bran I

"They're not my brothers," Jon snapped. "They hate me because I'm better than they are." – AGOT, Jon III

Although, it is worth noting that the Royces, as a whole, do somewhat resemble the Starks in appearance, at least in terms of their eye colour:

Bronze Yohn Royce, the current head of House Royce of Runestone, has "slate-grey eyes" as well as a "solemn face", (AFFC, Alayne I).

Ser Robar, his second son was "comely in a rough-hewn way" (ACOK, Catelyn III), with "pale" eyes (ACOK, Catelyn IV), possibly grey like his father's.

Ser Waymar, Yohn's third son, as mentioned, was "grey-eyed" (AGOT, Prologue).

It isn't as clear whether or not their cadet branch, which Albar belongs to, tend towards grey eyes as well, though we know that Myranda has brown hair, specifically "thick chestnut curls" (AFFC, Alayne II) — typical looking Starks, like Ned, Arya, and Jon, all have brown/dark hair.

As previously mentioned, the Royces are also descended from the First Men, have kinship links to the Starks, knew Ned when he fostered in the Vale, and Bronze Yohn even "knows" Sansa Stark:

"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw...he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney." – AFFC, Alayne I

His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa's memories of his time at Winterfell. She remembered him at table, speaking quietly with her mother. She heard his voice booming off the walls when he rode back from a hunt with a buck behind his saddle. She could see him in the yard, a practice sword in hand, hammering her father to the ground and turning to defeat Ser Rodrik as well. He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me? The war is finished and Winterfell is fallen. "Lord Royce," she asked timidly, "will you have a cup of wine, to take the chill off?"

Bronze Yohn had slate-grey eyes, half-hidden beneath the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen. They crinkled when he looked down at her. "Do I know you, girl?" – AFFC, Alayne I

They also have the house words "We will remember", which somewhat evokes the recurring refrain "the north remembers" (ASOS, Catelyn, ADWD, Davos IV, ADWD, A Ghost in Winterfell, TWOW, Theon I), as well as a possible remembrance of the Long Night, similar to the Starks’ and Tolletts’ words. All in all, as well as evoking a certain Starkness (and Jon-ness), the Royces seem set up to be staunch allies of the Starks going forward.

All Three Sunderlands

Since these Sunderland brothers aren't given names, we can assume what is significant about them, in relation to Jon and Sansa, is their Sunderland name. As you noted, the Sunderlands are the reigning lords of the Three Sisters, and in Dance, through Davos' pov, we hear about Ned's time there during Robert's Rebellion:

"At the dawn of Robert's Rebellion. The Mad King had sent to the Eyrie for Stark's head, but Jon Arryn sent him back defiance. Gulltown stayed loyal to the throne, though. To get home and call his banners, Stark had to cross the mountains to the Fingers and find a fisherman to carry him across the Bite. A storm caught them on the way. The fisherman drowned, but his daughter got Stark to the Sisters before the boat went down. They say he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly. Jon Snow, she named him, after Arryn.

"Be that as it may. My father sat where I sit now when Lord Eddard came to Sisterton. Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward. The Mad King was open-handed with them as pleased him. By then we knew that Jon Arryn had taken Gulltown, though. Robert was the first man to gain the wall, and slew Marq Grafton with his own hand. 'This Baratheon is fearless,' I said. 'He fights the way a king should fight.' Our maester chuckled at me and told us that Prince Rhaegar was certain to defeat this rebel. That was when Stark said, 'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true…but what if we prevail?' My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,' he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.' " – ADWD, Davos I

This passage has one of my favourite asoiaf quotes of all time..."In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true...but what if we prevail?" Truly iconic. So defiantly hopeful.

But, yes, you're right that this story, and the Sunderlands, connects us to Ned, but more importantly...to Jon Snow. Really, Jon has quite a few Vale connections, all things considered, and he is named after Jon Arryn after all!

Uther Shett

Well, along with his buddy Ossifer Lipps (ass for lips), Uther Shett (utter shit) is an example of George having some pretty lowbrow fun with punny names. During their dance, Uther paid Alayne "slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet"...so not the best partner!

But from one shit to another...I think you're probably right that Uther Shett is meant to recall Chett, indeed, if we take a look at his description in Winds:

The one on her left was no more than eighteen, and skinny as a spear. His ginger-colored whiskers only partially served to disguise the angry red pimples that dotted his face.

His bad skin is somewhat comparable to Chett's boils:

Chett had a wen on his neck the size of a pigeon's egg, and a face red with boils and pimples. Perhaps that was why he always seemed so angry. – AGOT, Jon V

What is also noteworthy about Chett's prologue pov in ASOS, is that we get this linking of literal snow and Jon Snow:

Snow was falling.

He could feel tears freezing to his cheeks. It isn't fair, he wanted to scream. Snow would ruin everything he'd worked for, all his careful plans. It was a heavy fall, thick white flakes coming down all about him [...] The snow's taken it all from me...the bloody snow...

Snow had ruined him once before. Snow and his pet pig. – ASOS, Prologue

This makes any mention of snow beyond this point a bit more noteworthy, especially since Jon is referred to as "the Snow of Winterfell," (ASOS, Jon I), and we also have Sansa's famous "drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses" whilst building Winterfell out of snow scene, also in ASOS, (Sansa VII). So, Chett is very important when it comes to establishing this connection.

Ser Targon the Halfwild

Targon is only mentioned once and it is in that list of dance partners. He's not connected to any particular house, all we know of him is that he is a knight and that he "proved to be the soul of courtesy." This detail is interesting because it sort goes against his "Halfwild" moniker — he is courteous in spite of his half-wildness. Likewise, Jon is also courteous, chivalrous and knightly even, in spite of the stigma attached to being a bastard:

They still think me a turncloak. That was a bitter draft to drink, but Jon could not blame them. He was a bastard, after all. Everyone knew that bastards were wanton and treacherous by nature, having been born of lust and deceit. And he had made as many enemies as friends at Castle Black...Rast, for one. Jon had once threatened to have Ghost rip his throat out unless he stopped tormenting Samwell Tarly, and Rast did not forget things like that. – ASOS, Jon VII

As mentioned in comparison to Ser Byron, Jon behaves courteously towards Gilly, calling her name "pretty", just as Sansa taught him. He also often refers to Val as "my lady" despite her being a proud woman of the Free Folk. Jon also clearly looks up to and wishes to emulate legendary knights to a certain extent, and behaving with courtesy and honour is very much part of that:

They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne." – ASOS, Jon XII

Furthermore, Jon has this connection to the Free Folk, also known as the wildlings, having spent a fair amount of time with them:

"The wildling blood is the blood of the First Men, the same blood that flows in the veins of the Starks [...]" – ASOS, Jon I

"Some of your own Sworn Brothers would have me believe that you are half a wildling yourself. Is it true?" – ADWD, Jon IV

Mully cleared his throat. "M'lord? The wildling princess, letting her go, the men may say—"

"—that I am half a wildling myself, a turncloak who means to sell the realm to our raiders, cannibals, and giants." Jon did not need to stare into a fire to know what was being said of him. The worst part was, they were not wrong, not wholly. "Words are wind, and the wind is always blowing at the Wall. Come." – ADWD, Jon VIII

"A wildling. A filthy, murdering wildling." Cregan's hands closed into fists. The gloves that covered them were leather, lined with fur to match the cloak that hung matted and stiff from his broad shoulders. His black wool surcoat was emblazoned with the white sunburst of his house. "I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" He laughed. "If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood."

"My name is Snow." – ADWD, Jon X

I am not the trusting fool you take me for...nor am I half wildling, no matter what you believe. – ADWD, Jon XI

If Stark blood is also essentially wildling blood, and Jon is half Stark on his mother's side...that would make him "Halfwild" in blood as well as in spirit. And like you said, Targon feels very close to Targaryen/Targ-Jon. So this name is there solely as a hint towards Jon's true parentage — half Targaryen and half Stark. But I think you could argue that the "Halfwild" element could allude to Jon's post-resurrection state as well. I do personally like the idea of Feral Jon™.

Ser Roland & Ser Wallace Waynwood

Like the Royces, and Dolorous Edd, the Waynwoods also bear some notable Stark physical traits, as noted by Myranda in this chapter:

“The first Lady Waynwood must have been a mare, I think. How else to explain why all the Waynwood men are horse-faced? [...]"

As we know, looking horse-faced, or in Edd's case, mule-faced, indicates a rather long visage:

Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. – AGOT, Arya I

[Arya] even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. – AGOT, Sansa I

Interestingly though, Jon is never referred to as being called horse-faced, although we know he has a long Stark face. You'd think that Chett, in the ASOS Prologue would have made that kind of dig, since he says as much about Dolorous Edd? This is why I tentatively believe that, although long-faced, Jon isn't as apparently "homely" as these Stark looking Waynwood brothers:

Ser Roland was the oldest of the three, though no more than five-and-twenty. He was taller and more muscular than Ser Wallace, but both were long-faced and lantern-jawed, with stringy brown hair and pinched noses. Horsefaced and homely, Alayne thought.

That being said, I don't think he's as "handsome" as Ser Waymar Royce, or "beautiful" like Ser Byron. But obviously, he's got something going for him because as GRRM says "all the girls love" him, and you know, he's got a good bod probably and if the Giant's Lance cake is anything to go by, as well as all Tormund's small penis jokes...um, well, maybe he's packing, I don't know! (Don't look at me like that guys...it's GRRM not me!)

But anyway! Like you said, Ser Wallace Waynwood is even of an age with Robb, and therefore also Jon:

Robb would be his age, if he were still alive, she could not help but think, but Robb died a king, and this is just a boy.

There is also a teeny bit of Stark blood, though obviously potent stuff, in the mix with those Waynwoods:

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest...it might have been a Templeton, but..."

"Mother." There was a sharpness in Robb's tone. "You forget. My father had four sons." – ASOS, Catelyn V

Shit — "all of whom wed Vale lordlings" — that's probably where all these Stark looking mother fudgers are coming from. So, all in all, I think there's some strong parallels.

And finally...Ser Harrold Hardyng

But let's not forget this bitch.

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. “Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?”

She considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

Prior to Harry, who notably fits into the Ashford pattern of Sansa's suitors, we have all these Jon stand-ins, or references to Jon. We can actually separate them out into their different functions, though there is some overlap with Andrew Tollett:

Those who reference Jon's Starkness/the Stark Look™:

Andrew Tollett

Albar Royce

Roland Waynwood

Wallace Waynwood

Those who reference his position/location at the Night's Watch:

Because in the Alayne chapter prior to this one, Sansa learns that Jon has been made Lord Commander:

[..] Oh, and the Night’s Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark’s.” “Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised. “Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.” – AFFC, Alayne II

So, it is interesting that you then have a number of dance partners connected to members of the Watch:

Ben Coldwater

Andrew Tollett

Morgarth the Merry

Uther Shett

This could be read as foreshadowing for Sansa's future journey north, and specifically to the Wall, where she believes Jon to be.

Those who reference his true/uncertain parentage:

Byron the Beautiful

Shadrich the Mad Mouse

The Three Sunderlands

Targon the Halfwild

All these guys get a dance, but when Harry asks? He is denied. It is only after some A+ dragging by Alayne, and begging by Harry that the latter gets his dance. Yet don't be fooled into thinking this is a win for Harrold:

"Should we ever wed, you'll have to send Saffron back to her father. I’ll be all the spice you’ll want."

He grinned. "I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?"

"You may not. It is promised to… another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone.

First off, we have this reminder of the betrothal, but there is a lack of certainty there — "should we wed" — and I would argue that's because...they ain't gonna. Remember all that wedding breakfast imagery, including an umcomfortably phallic lemon (wedding) cake, gift-giving and nod to a bridal cloak? Remember how that was followed by several dances with Jon stand-ins?

"[...] It is promised to… another."

Oh, I wonder who that could be? Honestly...GRRM has very clearly, for those who care to really look, stated someone else's claim here, and it ain't Harry's. In fact, it is the very same person who also evokes Valarr Targaryen in the Ashford pattern.

...it's our boi, Jon Snow.

“Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised.

“Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.” – AFFC, Alayne II

You "suppose", Myranda? Honey, I'm certain.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #cappy's thoughts #Alayne I Winds #i'm actually so chuffed with myself on the morgarth = more garth #thanks for this ask!#jonsa supremacy honestly

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yutahoes · 3 years

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Otou-Chan

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader (Y/N) Smut

(Chapter Six)

Summary: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Warning: Matured Content, Smut, One Night Stand

Word Count: 3.6k

(I suck at writing smut. 😭 I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Kill me now.)

Masterlist

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

6. That Hot, Romantic Parisian Night

On the cab, Yuta had made a point that he wanted her as he didn't shy away at the bulging arousal getting evident on his pants. "Why are you so embarrassed?" he asked while looking at the driver who was obviously checking if the two are going to fuck in his car. "This is because of you so you have to be proud of it." Oh, she thought, come to think of it he has a point. They're both consenting adults and it's normal, they're in the city of love. "He might just be curious about why I'm not fucking you merciless in his car."

"You know, with all the cab fare you wasted, you can buy a car here in Paris or even rent one," she claimed when he fished out some cash to pay the driver, making Yuta laugh. "It's my last day in Paris, maybe next time I'm here," he said while guiding her inside the posh hotel.

Some people were greeting him and (Y/N) wondered how rich Yuta is in reality, maybe he really is a CEO. "Rich people," she mumbled while shaking her head as they enter the elevator.

When it stopped on the top floor, (Y/N) was again in awe. Damn, Yuta is really wealthy. His hotel room is really spacious, like a real house and even their house isn't as big as this. "Feel at home," he said as he opened the stereo for some slow songs and opened the lights for her to admire the room more.

"This is amazing and I thought my hotel room is really great, this is just superb," she claimed as she eyed the tall windows, overlooking the streets of Paris at night. She wanted to draw this scene before her, her hand itching to get a pencil and a piece of paper. "You are one wealthy man." she complimented that made him smile, moving closer to her. "You're lucky I'm not some hooker who's here to get your money."

She gave a little yelp when he pulled her closer and held her waist. "I'm glad you aren't." He kissed her, the same French kissing that they did earlier but now, she wanted to melt at the way he holds her. Yes, she isn't a hooker but she felt like one, his own personal hook up.

He pushed her on the couch, not breaking away his lips from her that made her grab the back of his hair. Fuck, Yuta and the things that his mouth can do. She is so wet that she wanted him to touch her immediately. Well, it's not like this was the first time to have sex with him but when he removed his dress shirt, she was suddenly self-conscious about how perfect he is. "Shouldn't I shower first?" she asked when Yuta went back to attacking her neck. He gave her a hum of disapproval, licking her sweaty skin as if proving a point. "Yuta." she moaned that made him look at her, eyes hooded with lust.

Once again, he sucked on her neck that earned a moan from her, arousing his sexual desires. "You sound so sexy calling my name," he mumbled as his hands caressed her back, feeling the hook of her bra. "I want to fuck you so bad that you'll only remember my name." He nipped on her ear, eliciting a throaty moan from her. Damn, his words were so powerful that she could feel the dripping wetness on her core. "I can do that, right?" he asked while staring at her, waiting for a confirmation that made her nod.

In no time, he carried her inside the bedroom and threw her to the bed, completely removing his dress shirt that she was ogling at his toned body. Damn, he has such an erotic body and even his abs were visible. God, he is so fucking hot that she'll definitely just cum by watching him strip. Yuta removed his pants then crawled on top of her, touching her leg going up to her thigh under the skirt. His mouth was on hers in a rough kiss and the girl moaned when he cupped her sex, letting his tongue slither inside her mouth. "Lace," he mumbled when they broke off the kiss and she smiled at the thought.

"Red to be precise," she claimed as she sat down to remove the upper part of the dress, revealing her red lace brassiere that made him smirk.

"God, you are so hot," he exclaimed then kissed the spot between her breasts that made her moan. She arched her back as he touched her stomach, south to where her dress ended. "I want to do a lot of things to you," he mumbled as he gave her stomach butterfly kisses.

"It's all yours, Yuta. You can do what you want with it." That was the only invitation he needed to remove the dress off from her and revealed the red lacy wet panty that he was yearning to see. He wanted her, so bad. And with how she smelled and looked, she might have wanted the same thing.

Although he loved the red lace on her, he slowly removed her underwear that made her groan. "Stop teasing and fuck me, please," she begged that made his sanity go down the drain. Quickly, he pulled down his boxers to spring his hard cock free. (Y/N) gulped at the anticipation, he looked bigger than when they had sex on the plane. But when he entered her, she realized the reality of it. Yuta Nakamoto is really big in size that he filled her up almost immediately. "Fuck, Yuta!" she screamed and he smirked, pushing his cock deeper into her.

All the teasings were so worth it at how amazing he felt inside her. He started jerking his cock at a steady pace, pushing her body down the mattress. His mouth attached themselves to her neck that made her moan, giving supple kisses on her sensitive skin. "Oh God!" she shouted when she felt his tongue trail to between her breasts.

Instead of removing her bra, he pulled them down and gave one nipple a suck. Her hands were pulling his head closer as she bucked her hip, sending him deeper into her. This was so hot and by far the best sex she had, topping the airplane one which was caused by him as well. Yuta was so good, never faltering his thrusts that sent her on edge. "Aaah." she moaned, feeling that coil in the stomach as her walls tightened around his cock.

"Fuck baby, you are so tight," he mumbled before moving to another nipple to play and suck with.

"Yuta, I'm..." she started, shaking at the sensation engulfing her.

"I know baby." he mumbled before thrusting into her one last time that she shouted "Daddy!" while getting an orgasm. "Fuck!" the guy shouted, groaning as he jerked into her. "Say that again," he begged as he felt himself edging towards his orgasm.

"Daddy." she moaned and with one last thrust, he came inside her. (Y/N) giggled at the newfound information, he has a daddy kink.

"Do you have some kind of a daddy kink?" he asked that made her laugh, she was thinking of asking him the same thing.

"Well, you called me baby so it just clicked. Do you?" she asked as he rolled beside her.

The guy started rubbing his cock with his hand and she was surprised at how fast his little buddy recovered. "You sounded so hot shouting that."

The girl smiled. If he's ready for another round, then she's dead set on making this night as memorable as possible. "Then I want you to be rough on me daddy," she said in a low voice, holding his cock too tight that he groaned.

Yuta smirked and sat up, "On fours, baby girl." And the way he said it, with the dominance, made her so wet that she obliged almost immediately. Taking her from the back, he almost moaned when his cock sank in inside her wet pussy hole. "Fuck, you are so wet. You wanted Daddy to take you like this?"

(Y/N) had always hated the idea of a doggie position since it wasn't satisfying enough but here is Yuta proving another thing. Fuck, the way he slammed his cock on her made her moan nonstop that she concluded that it takes skills to fuck in this position. And damn it but Yuta Nakamoto is obviously at the top of this sex food chain. "What's wrong baby girl? You lost your ability to speak at how amazing daddy is fucking you?" he asked that made her scream at the dirtiness of his words. Fuck, she does feel slutty now that Yuta is like this. "Am I wrecking you, baby?"

"Yes, daddy!" she shouted as a wave of orgasm enveloped her for the second time tonight. How long is he going to make her cum like this? But she isn't complaining, she loves it when someone takes her rough, and maybe she is really becoming a masochist just like what Jungwoo would often say.

Breathing hard, he pulled out of her after he came and let her lie on the bed on her back. He started kissing her, sweat forming between their bodies. "Are you alright?" he asked and she nodded, cupping his face for a kiss. "I'm sorry for being rough though. Fuck, I didn't know that it turns me on when someone calls me daddy," he confessed while kissing her chest. He started giving her body butterfly kisses while muttering words like 'You're so beautiful.', 'You are so pretty.' 'You are so hot.' and 'You are so sexy.'

The guy smirked when his finger felt her wetness. "You are so wet again. If we continue this, we'll be fucking the whole night," he claimed but he was already jerking his cock to make it hard again and she was in awe at how fast it grows for her.

"Maybe that's what I want," she mumbled. Yuta parted her legs, his cock sinking inside her and giving her the third round of their sex marathon.

On usual occasions, (Y/N) wouldn't even stay this long in fucking but Yuta is so good that she doesn't want to miss a moment with him. His mouth was on her breasts, sucking it like a baby that made her moan non-stop. Her sound turned him on so much that he thrusts into her harder and deeper, wanting her to feel the orgasm. "Oh, God. Yuta!" she screamed as he kept slamming into her, making her see stars.

This was the third tonight and Yuta isn't thinking about slowing down. "Fuck, you are so tight," he muttered, pushing her closer to him if possible, letting his whole large cock enter her sensitive pussy. (Y/N) could almost feel his cock in her stomach, hitting some new place that no one had ever discovered yet. She is so tired because of this guy but he seemed like someone who had a really high sex drive. "Oh God, baby." he groaned just as he came inside her, filling her up.

By now, she should have hurried to the comfort room and remove all the cum in her body but she knew that she's safe now and Yuta's looks would be a blessing if she gets a child because of this. Fuck, she thought, although she is safe, what if she does get pregnant?

The guy heaved a sigh as he lay down on the bed, pulling her body close that they were hugging. Well, that's just great. After tiring her out, he's now cuddling her. He doesn't really look like a cuddler at all, she's even ready to leave since this is a one-night stand but he doesn't even let her move even an inch away from him. "Do you want something?" he asked in that low voice that made her look at him.

"Can I at least pee?" she asked but he pulled her closer to him.

"No. I want you to keep my cum just for tonight," he said in an authoritative voice that made her look at him. What the hell is this?

"Yuta, I can get pregnant," she stated, as a matter of fact, surprised that he smiled and hugged her.

"Then I'll take responsibility for you. Be my..."

But she didn't let him finish and sat up that startled him. "I have to go," she said and was about to stand up when her legs gave in, trembling at how tired she is that made her fell back down the bed while muttering a curse.

"Is it that good?" he asked then stopped when she glared at him. Yes, it was but he didn't need that much ego boost anymore. "Can't you at least stay for the night? I'll bring you to your hotel tomorrow morning, I promise," he said in a soft voice that made her look at him, contemplating the offer.

There were lots of pros and cons to staying the night. Who knows, they might end up with another round of intense sex once his cock is recharged. And not to be so slutty, but when sex is that good she'll definitely not miss on the opportunity. Yuta smiled when she decided to went back to bed, "I'm tired, I'll just leave tomorrow."

He giggled as she turned to face him, pulling her close to feel her skin again. Yuta had serious issues with cuddling, she thought. "God, you smell so good," he mumbled as his nose was just by her breasts, his breathing tickling her skin and making her hot and bothered once again.

She laughed at what he claimed, she smelt like cum and sweat combined, then stopped when she felt something poking her leg. "Seriously, Yuta?"

The guy just chuckled then hovered above her that made her roll her eyes, the pros and cons of staying the night are actually happening right now. "You are so fucking hot." he complimented before rubbing his semi-hard cock on her wet clit, making her moan.

Damn it, her body is liking it. At this rate, he's going to fill her up with too much cum that it will definitely make her pregnant. Is this what this is? Maybe he has a breeding kink and really wanted her to get pregnant. His mouth started getting busy with her right breast as his hand was playing with the other one, rubbing the nipples that earned a sigh from her. His other hand was scattering the wetness of their mixed cum on her pussy, making it glisten with her wetness and his cum from earlier.

In a snap, his cock was inside her and thrusting at a speed that makes her moan. Her fingers found his naked back, scratching the skin. "God, you are so fucking good," he muttered, not faltering with his thrusts. This is too much, (Y/N) thought. How can one guy make her cum like this repeatedly? Yuta is indeed a sex monster.

She heaved a breathy sigh when she came, really sore and tired out of her own wits. "Yuta..." she called breathlessly and she glanced at the still hard cock that he was jerking, "I'm really tired." He laughed and kissed her lip that made her body warm once again. Oh, God.

"Then go to sleep already. I'll just soften my buddy over here," he claimed just as she tried to fight the sleepiness.

"Can I fuck you?" he asked and she smiled, obviously tired.

"Whatever. Be my guest." Yuta fucked her as her eyes drifted to sleep, not caring if he stops fucking her or make her reach orgasm again.

Yuta had discovered a lot about himself lately. First, he was easily turned on by a woman screaming his name, the same woman who made his insanity drop low when she called him daddy. Second, his cock has a really short refractory period and who would have thought that he could cum this much in one night, his stamina really is no joke. Third, how can he get turned on by a sleeping person naked in front of him? He kept on fucking her, cumming on her body then licked every drop that made him repeat his actions from earlier, fucking her. And although she's asleep, he loved how her body was reacting to him, loved how tight her pussy is and how wet she becomes at a simple touch.

He breathed heavily as if running a marathon when he came once again, his body shaking both at the height of the orgasm and the cold. Someone could die of too much sex and he felt like a murderer with the state she's in. Luckily, she's still breathing. "I'm cold..." he heard her moan in her sleep as she scooted near him. Yuta pulled the blankets up to her body and she snuggled on it while humming in delight.

God, she is beautiful and he wanted her so bad, wanted to see her face every day and every night. He smiled at the thought of falling in love with a complete stranger, a girl who he only had sex with and never really knew her name. Will they still be like this when they get back to Korea? Will he even defeat his record of sex marathon with her?

Instead of sleeping, he wanted to stare at her much longer, trying to etch her sleeping figure on his mind. What if she doesn't want the proposal he wanted to ask her? She was sure about declining him earlier and that made him nervous.

Damn it, he's Yuta Nakamoto. And not to be cocky or anything but girls want him, not him desperately wanting a girl who doesn't seem fazed by his appearance. But in the end, the tiredness loomed in stronger that he ended up sleeping, hugging her frail body and feeling her warmth in the cold night of Paris.

The sunlight was up when (Y/N) opened her eyes, feeling the soreness and stickiness on her body. Fuck, how long did this guy fuck her last night? How many times did he come inside her? Standing up, she can feel her legs wobble. Is that how good he is? Well, he is in fact, no question about that. But enough is enough, a one night stand is enough to discover how wild she is and Yuta in bed.

Instead of heading to the bathroom to take a bath, she decided to wear the clothes that he had given her last night which were scattered on the floor. She needs to move and leave fast before he could wake up.

Before she could even hold the doorknob, she turned to look at the guy with who she just spend the night. He looked really amazing, his white toned body lying on the bed and snoring soundly as if in a deep sleep. He must be tired as well. Well, who wouldn't? He really showed his wild side last night. She could smell sex and sweat, as well as her crinkly clothes that are evidence of being thrown on the floor that the people were looking at her when she left the hotel. She looked like a hooker who just came back from intense sexual activity.

When she reached her hotel, she started showering in warm water and that's when the marks on her skin started appearing. She looked like a bruised person who just came from a gang fight because of the redness of her skin. Trying to rub it off, she recalled the night with Yuta, making her unconsciously touch her wet core.

Fuck, just thinking about how he thrusts into her had made her horny. All-day, she can't stop thinking about him and the things that he did and can do to her. What if she accepts to be his girlfriend? Maybe this will be an everyday scenario for her. Can she live like that? Maybe not. So it might really be a good decision to decline his offer.

She stayed in the hotel the whole day, sleeping then ordering food from the nearby restaurant. (Y/N) doesn't really want to go out now since her body is really sore and all. A day in Paris wasted just because of last night but she didn't regret it as she started updating her manga with Yuta in mind. Fuck that Japanese guy for invading her mind like this. She wanted to see him again, to thank him properly but it can lead to other things especially with the state she's in.

All in all, she didn't get to enjoy her free time in Paris. First, the weather is shitty that she can't have the freedom to walk the streets of Paris which was her goal. Secondly, a certain Japanese guy took all her time and energy. But she doesn't hate it, wanting to meet him again in fact and that's why she was silently praying as she waited for her seatmate in the airplane. When a girl, probably younger than her, sat beside her, she lost all hopes. Will she ever see him again? But knowing his line of work, it's not possible to have their roads cross again. Maybe, this really is a one-time Parisian romance. And she's happy that she felt it like this.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

Chapter 5 / Chapter 7

#yutasmut #yutanakamoto #yutanakamotosmut #yuta smut #yuta nakamoto smut #nct smut

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 3 years

Note

'Ello! Same user here! I was wondering if you could make a part 2 to the story of my last request, one where the reader is confronted by her ex-friends at an event and Albert goes off on them how far she's coming compared to them along the reader getting the last laugh before Albert gets rid of the ex for good, if you don't mind!

Ofc I don’t mind. Sweet revenge is coming up next 😈. Anyways, i hope you’ll enjoy!

You are not alone Part 2 (Wesker x F!Reader)

•Link to Part 1

Warnings: none.

Wesker received an invitation to an event. The host was a man who introduced him to Miss Gionne and if it wasn’t for this big favour, Wesker wouldn’t go. In fact, he thought about getting some time off from his work since he felt overwhelmed with the incredible amount of tasks he needed to complete in order to finish Uroborus project. If this succeeded, it would be his biggest achievement in life, not to mention a reminder that he broke free from his chains and escaped his abuser. However, every brilliant mind needs a break from the activities to avoid burnout.

He talked with his lover about the party and she was excited to go with him. It would be the first time when they exposed their relationship publicly so she was nervous because Wesker is not an ordinary man, in contrary, his name is well known and people tremble when they hear it. Her image also impacted his.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to go?” Wesker noticed she was lost in her own thought.

“Yeah, but, I don’t think I fit. I’m not from your world. I’m just a normal virologist who graduated a normal college.”

Wesker remained silent for a second then he bursted out in laugh.

“Dear, you’re perfect the way you are. I don’t care about these social constructs, and if someone has something to say about your appearance I’ll make sure it will be the last thing they say.” He put his big thumb to his neck and drew a line. “Come on get dressed.” Before leaving the room he stoped in the doorframe and smirked. “I won’t tolerate delays.”

That being said, she had little time to prepare. These aristocrats must a lot of money to throw parties like this out of the blue. Fortunately she found a black gown without sleeves with an open back and trail which fit her body well, but it missed something. She kept searching until she found a golden snake accessory that can be wear on her back. It was beautiful and it would cover her whole exposed back. She remembered her ex saying that she doesn’t have a proper sense of style to wear that accessory but she got it anyway. Tonight she’s going to wear it and she’s going to be confident in her own skin.

The penthouse looked really expensive even if it was very crowded and you could barely see any furniture. However, when they arrive, with all the music and noise that was, everyone noticed them and they didn’t put any effort to hide the fact that they were starring at you. Their eyes were piercing your soul, unveiling any secret and details about you, stomping in into your life and violating your space. They were eating you alive.

The party followed its natural course after that. She recognised a few big names there, but they couldn’t compare to Albert. The only man who wore sunglasses indoor was the main star of the night, not like he didn’t enjoy it. He didn’t let go of her hand the whole night, a sign of him being proud to have such a woman beside him and probably he fell her being nervous. He introduced her to everyone he met and only spoke good words about her, how she help him a lot in his research and how fast she proved her worth to the company. The conversations were short as many people wanted to talk with him. She wondered how could he possibly memorise so many faces and names.

There was a group of people however who refused to take their eyes from you, which seemed pretty familiar to you for a reason. Then it hit her, they were a part form her life she tried to forget, that’s why she didn’t recognise them. She turned her head to Albert and like he was reading minds he glanced at the group. He researched her past life and those people look like the ones from the files. Her ex group of friends were in the same field as her, of course they would be there. He leaned to her ear.

“You’ve come far since then.” And placed a kiss on her forehead. He then placed a hand on her back and lead her to the other group of people introducing her in the same manner.

Of course her ex friends were of problematic nature. They followed her, undecided whether to start a conversation or not. She changed so much it was unbelievable.

Wesker went to talk in private with a woman. She seemed in her late 50s and she wear a simple white cocktail dress. The older woman gave her a warm smile before grabbing Wesker’s arm and leaving to talk. As soon as she was alone the problematic group decided to act. Shyly, one of her ex friends tapped her shoulder.

“Y/N?”

She turned around to meet their gaze. They remained the same and now she was able to see how much she truly evolved.

They engaged in an awfully long and boring dialogue in which they discussed about their lives. After they move on to compliment her dress, all of them asking about the snake from her back. She was right, none of them stepped higher from where she left them, nor in their career or mentally.

“How’s the new job? It is more profitable than the previous one? Who’s that man you’re with, do you know him?” They were so comfortable asking those questions like they were still friends, but the only difference is that now she sees strangers, strangers who are trying to enter her private life. She responded monosyllabically

One of them introduced the topic they’ve all been wanting so much.

“Have you spoke with, you know?”

“No, he tried to contact me but I never answered back.” She stated coldly.

“We’re sorry we didn’t believe you.” Said another voice from the group. “We’re realised lately how bad he was. He seemed so sweet it was hard for us to see the truth. Hope we can keep in contact.”

She couldn’t believe it how easily they approached her after all that happened. How they blamed her for being too sensitive, calling her names and ignored her whenever she needed support. She was trying so hard to hold her tears, not because she was sad, but angry. When she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore she felt a hand caressing her back.

“Is there any problem?”

The group was greeted by a tall man who didn’t seem to be in a mood for talking.

“N-no we were just...”

“I suggest you should get used to the idea of being rejected or else things will get ugly” he lowered his glasses on the bridge of his nose, revealing his bright red eyes. The group ran away in fear and got lost in the crowd.

After a while the people started to leave and the place was more clear. What was probably once a decent place to live turned into a mess, with broken glasses laying on the floor, flipped alcohol bottles and confetti. Wesker grabbed her hand and guided her outside saying he needs some air.

“Thanks for helping me out there. It was satisfying seeing them running away in fear.”

“I told you I’ll be there for you. I won’t let anyone stain your pride.”

“Cheers” they both clinked their champagne glasses.

Wesker put the glass aside and searched something in his coat’s jacket.

“I know you for a while now” he said as he seemed to find what he was searching for. “And I reached the conclusion that you’re everything I was looking for in a partner. You’re reliable, understanding and you don’t want me for my status like these idiots, you want me for who I am. You’re able to see behind these materialistic gains.”

He removed his sunglasses and now he was watching her with his amber eyes. He dropped on his knees while pulling the case of an engagement ring. When he opened the case she saw a gold ring with three stones, one big in the middle with two small beside it. It was the most beautiful ring she ever seen. The stones seemed to be pink diamonds.

“Will you marry me?”

Without hesitation she said yes. Wesker raised on his feet and they both engaged into a kiss. Her new start looks promising.

#Albert Wesker #albert wesker x reader #resident evil

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worlds-smallestviolin · 3 years

Text

Petty Revenge pt1

Note: I started playing Mozart's route, and boy, does he know how to push my buttons (I know I'll probably fall for him eventually, though). MC being her sweet and innocent self, is all like "I'll get him to like me", while I just wish I could punch him. So it got me thinking: what if instead of forgiving ball of sunshine, our MC was someone who was not above messing with the boys to get some payback. Also, let me know in comments if you’d like a part 2.

Mozart:

Traveling through time to 19th century, only to find herself trapped in a mansion full of prominent historical figures, who also happen to be vampires, MC was not exactly having a good time.

Well, seeing as there was no going home for a whole month, she offered her help around the mansion, which is how she came to be responsible for delivering a breakfast next morning to one Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, AKA His Royal Rudeness.He used every opportunity to remind her how annoyed he was that she was even here, which is something she had no control over.

After exhausting all her energy on trying to talk to him only to get showered with insults, she finally gives up. If he wants to hate her, she will give him a good reason for that.

The hardest part was finding the right moment to carry out her plan. He rarely left the mansion and spent most of his time in the music room. Finally, after being asked by le Comte, he leaves one night to perform at the ball. She picks up tools that she managed to “borrow” without Sebastian noticing, and with a smile on her face heads to the music room.

Next morning, after setting down his cup of coffee and music sheets, Mozart sat down in front of his piano, only for the bench to let out a laud creak. He froze up, then moved slightly, as if to make sure that really happened. And sure enough, there was that sound again.

Not wanting to deal with it at the moment, he tried playing while sitting stiff as a board, making sure to only move his hands, but even that was followed by that annoying noise, so he marched out of room, frustration written all over his face.

He got Leonardo to fix it for him, only for the bench to start creaking again a few days later. He found himself in a never-ending cycle, fix the problem, only to have it reappear, sometimes even later the same day. One day, he stormed out of music room, red faced and eyebrows scrunched up with anger, and went to the town to buy a new one, hoping to finally put the matter to rest. It didn’t work.

Maybe it’s telling you that you’re fat attitude should go on a diet. MC stood at the door, gazing at Mozart leaning defeated over piano. He turns, seeing her smirk, realization finally dawns on him. But as she walks away, he simply stands there, mouth open, having to many things to say, but being too exhausted to voice them.

Theo:

She didn’t think that he ever used her name, sometimes she doubted that he even knew it. No, to him she was Hondje, a dog. And when he wasn’t busy calling her one, he was busy comparing her or treating her as one. That he claimed to like dogs did little to make her feel okay with it.

No amount of polite asking did anything to change this. Fine. There were other ways to get the message across. It was Sebastian who gave her a perfect idea, letting her know an interesting little detail about Theo. Honestly, the amount of information that guy had on the residents was frightening.

It was a long day for Theo. After spending it running across town, selling paintings, trying to butter up stuck up nobles, and then getting into a fight with those assholes from L’ Academie, he was really looking forward to seeing his bed.

After he checked up on Vincent, who was still painting despite the late hour, he headed to his room, only to run into MC in hallway. Hondje, you’re still up? He expected her to pout, as she always does when he calls her that, but instead she greets him with a smile. Just finished my chores. I was on my way to my room. And as she passed by him, her smile growing even bigger, she adds Good Night, Theo. Something in the tone of her voice told him she was up to something, but he was too tired to deal with it tonight.

Finally arriving at his door, he opens them, light from the hallway spilling into his room, and he freezes. It’s a miracle how he managed not to let out a scream, or how he was even able to lift his hand and pinch his cheek to insure that what he was seeing was real.

His room was filled with cats. Not a cat, which was terrifying enough. Cats. Ten, he thinks, though it’s difficult to count them due to them jumping all over the place.

Somehow managing to close the door, he practically runs back to Vincent’s room. He grabs him by the sleeve, like a little boy, and stuttering explains to his brother what’s wrong. Vincent enlisted Arthur to help, and between the two of them, they soon got all the cats out into the garden.

After he cautiously walked into his room, Theo found a note on his bed.

Just letting you know, I’m more of a cat person.

Arthur:

To put it simply, Arthur was a walking, talking, breathing sexual harassment. MC could deal with his flirting; him trying to bite her, however, was another matter entirely. He gave her some kind of apology, saying how he did it because he wanted to warn her about vampires, because words are apparently overrated.

He continued to flirt, seemingly unaware of what personal space means, and well, it was quite exhausting. She wanted to punch him so many times, but she knew that would do little to solve the problem, it might even encourage him.

Watching his interaction with Dazai, who seems to be the only person capable of getting under his skin, gave her an idea, something very simple.

Arthur was heading to the library, intent on doing some research for the book he was working on; only to find it occupied by one very pretty skirt. She had her head in the book and didn’t appear to have noticed him walk in.

Smirk on his face, he slowly approached her, already picturing her little gasp of surprise that was sure to be followed by a glare, as he set next to her and threw his arm around her shoulder. But her reaction wasn’t what he expected, in fact there was no reaction, she simply turned her head and looked at him.

He was taken aback for a second, but than flirt mode was back on. He went on and on, teasing her and complimenting her, yet she didn’t blush or said anything. She just kept looking at him, eyes narrowed in concentration, as if she forgot something, and was trying hard to remember it. Noticing this, he too fell silent, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Suddenly, her eyes went wide, she snapped her fingers, smile appearing on her face. It’s Sherlock, right? I’m sorry, I’m not very good with names.

From then on every time he talked to her, she referred to him as Sherlock or that guy who wrote Sherlock. To make matters worse, Dazai joined in on the game.

Sebastian:

He is a perfectionist and very strict, understandable considering his occupation. She didn’t mind that; after all she volunteered to help around the mansion, which quickly proved to be a not so easy task. She understood that she needed to learn the ropes as quickly as possible, otherwise she’d just make things more difficult for Sebastian, so his constructive criticism didn’t bother her too much.

What did bother her, however, was his passive-aggressiveness. He would always make some snide remark, delivering it in a way that left her unable to reply lest she end up being the rude one. Add to that his habit of flicking her forehead, as if she was a little child, and well... He had it coming.

So one night, after diner she was volunteered into cleaning up the kitchen by herself, after being flicked again, because a single spoon wasn’t polished to Sebastian’s standards.

The next morning, Sebastian walked into the kitchen, part of him expecting to find something out of the ordinary, after all we are talking about MC. The kitchen was spotless and nothing appeared to be unusual, at least not at first glance. Feeling relieved, he went on to start preparing breakfast and make coffee for the residents.

He opened the first cupboard to take out coffee cups, and stared at it in shock. Gone were the cups, as well as all glasses that were supposed to be there as well. Instead he was greeted by plates that should be in a different cabinet. And not only were they misplaced, they were stacked completely out of order, piled in one disorganized mess, rim soup bowl on top of a salad plate, on top of a dinner plate, on top of a bread and butter plate, and so on.

He proceeded to the other cupboards and drawers, his horror growing with each one opened. He found saucers in the drawer where utensils were supposed to be, cups and glasses where plates used to be kept, spoons, forks and knives all mixed together, frying pans, cooking pots, spices, all piled in one giant nightmare.

It is a miracle how he managed not to have a heart attack. He started pacing, hands running through his hair in frustration, desperate to figure out how to begin putting kitchen back in order. It was at this point that MC walked in with a cheery Good morning!, soon to be followed by the rest of the residents.

What happened here?, asked le Comte. Looks like Sebas loves cleaning so much, he does it in his sleep, only not as successfully as when awake, MC said, and before he could deny it, the boys were already cracking jokes about it, while he was left desperate to try and maintain his cool.

Later she was left alone to clean up her mess, which was fine, she wasn’t trying to make Sebastian’s job more difficult, she simply wanted to get a reaction out of him. She paused for a moment to rub a red mark on her forehead. He flicked her so hard, she was sure her brain did a flip. Worth it, she grinned, Wait until he finds out I changed the order of keys on his key chain.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp akihiko

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conaionaru · 3 years

Text

Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless/Hvitserk)

The other shoe drops

Synopsis: Ivar leaves and Skuld is in mortal danger

Warnings: violence, slow descent into insanity, angst

The next morning, Skuld woke up early to buy wood ash soap while Ivar got ready for his departure. "Skuld!"

Queen Aslaug stood behind her and stared her down like a predator stalking its prey. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Let's take a walk." She took the earl's daughter by the hand and led her away from the common folk to the Great Hall's steps. "Tell me what you think you are doing?"

"I am buying wood ash soap. I want to bleach my hair. I am sure it would drive Mother mad when she returns. And I think I would make a pretty blonde." Skuld teased charmingly, trying to ease the tension around them.

Aslaug scoffed and clenched Skuld's hand tighter. To the eyes of the other's, they might have seemed like two bonding women instead of rivals. "That is not what I mean, and you know it. I can see when a person is smarter than they pretend to be. You, for instance, are far more intelligent than you let on."

"Is this about Ivar, My Queen?" She fluttered her eyelashes innocently, a mischievous spark hidden in her eyes.

"Of course, it is." They continued their walk inside, Aslaug sitting down on her throne to seem more powerful. It was just like Ylva scolding her children while sharpening her weapons, a power move. "What are your intentions?"

"I assure you, I mean no harm to Ivar."

"Then why are the thralls walking around town talking of what you two do in bed? Margrethe is buying moon tea for you, and everyone signs your praise. They think him a monster."

"They gossip as women tend to do when bored. I ordered Margrethe to do a task for me; what she did after is not my fault. I am as angry as you are. No one should know what happens in anyone's bed. That is between the lovers themselves."

Aslaug scoffed and leaned closer to seize Skuld up. "So you and Ivar are really lovers... It is not just a rumor?"

Skuld strode up the steps, smiling at Aslaug reassuringly. "I swear I mean no harm to Ivar. He intrigued me with his sharp mind and tongue. I enjoy his company, any form he is willing to offer me. Everything I did was out of curiosity and affection. I can't claim to love him yet, but I care for him and his happiness - his wellbeing."

Kneeling at Aslaug's side, she took her hand in hers and looked up with vulnerable eyes. Whispering the secret, she wanted none to hear. "It is like he bewitched me. I can't sleep without him near, and every time I hear him laugh or see him smile... It's as if I finally found meaning for what I am meant to be."

Aslaug nodded and smiled at her. "That is good; Ivar deserves a nice woman. After what lies Margrethe spread before..."

"If I could do anything to make those rumors stop..."

"Leave that to me. Go along now. You have hair to bleach." She sent her off with a smile. Skuld walked away and sighed in satisfaction. The whole Aslaug is a threat thing was solved easily. Margrethe did as she was bid, thinking she was saving her own skin, only to help Skuld.

When Ivar arrived at the docks to depart, he looked at her strangely. "What happened to your hair?"

"Don't you like my hair, Ivar? Don't you think I am pretty anymore?" She teased; the blush on his cheeks was proof enough of the answer. He liked it but was too prideful to admit it, especially in front of his brothers and father. "I wish you good fortune on your journey. May you come back victorious and well."

"So you will not forget about me while I am away?" The truth was, she would probably sleep with somebody in secret, but he doesn't need to know that. She was a woman with needs, and gods know when he will return.

"Oh Ivar, how could I ever forget a man like you? You gave me many things to remember you by. And when they fade... I will pray for your return day and night." He smirked at the answer and turned to leave, the new crutches making him taller. It was strange to look into his eyes without having to crouch or kneel.

He fell soon after but crawled on, not showing a hint of pain or humiliation. Cripple or not, the man was truly remarkable. When he departed, Skuld pretended to watch him leave like a lovesick girl.

Flocking people at her side wasn't so hard. She complimented the merchants at the stand and bought gifts for people. Smiling at children and helping older people carry things was another approach she used. Within a week, she was loved by the people. Her room was always full of young girls that complimented her and played dress-up with her.

They plaided flowers in their hair and gossiped of the boys they liked. Whenever they asked her of Ivar, she pretended to tear up or just gave them minimal information. How good of a lover he is, how he may seem evil or rude but is very affectionate when alone with her. Some things were true; others were complete lies. After all, she couldn't say that he choked her in bed and she liked it.

They walked through the town, hands full of expensive fabrics to have dresses made from. Giggling with every step, Skuld looked back at the girls behind her and smiled. "Imagine all the fabrics and gold from the new land Bjorn wants to explore. All those pretty things and alcohol they might bring back."

"And all the pretty male thralls!" They laughed out in glee. Skuld looked back in front of her so she won't trip but was met with a shieldmaiden with a strange shield.

"Come with me." The tall brunette ordered, glaring at her with a harsh tone.

"And why would I do that? I don't even know you. Who asks for me?"

"The Queen does."

Skuld looked at the shield and shook her head. "That is not the seal of Ragnar Lothbrok."

"It's Lagertha's!" One of the girls that followed her called out in realization. Before Skuld could process the information, the shieldmaiden snatched her by the arm and dragged her away.

As Skuld was thrown over the woman's shoulder and carried off, she could see people fighting. Lagertha infiltrated the city to take over as Queen. Maybe Gunne was right, and she really needed the dagger after all.

So she pulled in out from her cleavage and slit the shieldmaiden's throat. The dead woman fell to the ground, and Skuld climbed off her to run to safety. Someone grabbed her from behind and tried to wrench the weapon from her hands.

The girl slammed her head against the attacker's face a few times till the grip loosened. She slipped free and stabbed the warrior in the chest. With a grunt, she pulled the dagger out. Someone hit her over the head with a shield, and she hit the floor, groaning. It wasn't enough to knock her out, but enough to make her stop fighting.

They dragged her to an empty house and threw her in like a dirty rag. "Stay here and wait!" Skuld sprung from the ground and glared at them, seething. She ran for the door but was pushed back easily.

"You will pay in blood for this! You and your stupid Queen!" They slammed the door in her face and left her in the darkness.

Skuld marched up and down the hut, cursing under her breath. "They left me here, and now look what happened. I will gouge out her eyes and make her stupid lover watch."

She repeated the last sentence, like a mantra and prayed to the gods for guidance and strength. Walking holes into the floor proved futile, so she sat down with her back against the wall and glaring at the door. "They will probably try to punish me for killing those shieldmaidens. Let them try."

The hut was small, one-room max with no furniture or window, obviously meant as a prison cell. She could feel hay under her ass and the cold bite of winter on her cheeks. Her eyes never left the door, the deafening silence around her suffocating. Twisting the ring on her finger, Skuld stared the door down with determination.

"All this time buttering up Aslaug and Ivar, and in the end, it was Ragnar Lothbrok's ex-wife that got to me. Hjordis would laugh at my foolishness." She chuckled and leaned her head against the cold hardwood. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths to calm her anger. Lashing out now would do Skuld no good; she needs to save her energy so she can fight back when they open that door.

Her eyes snap open, and she smirks in glee. Pulling herself up on all four and search the ground for something. "Weapooon, where are youu?" Other than a pair of chains in the opposite corner, Skuld found nothing. Even those were useless; strangling someone with them would require her, pulling them closer to the bolts. Too much work and doing that would mean a struggle.

The blonde sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. She let her head fall into her hands and tapped her foot against the floor. The flow of time was hard to keep up with in here. She could be in here for an hour or maybe only half. There was no way to tell. So she tried counting instead.

"One, two, three, four, five..."

Drawing was fun when she was small and the coal from England new, when all she could do was doodle runes and flowers, now when she was thirteen, it wasn't so exciting. But the boys were training in the yard, and she didn't want to be a shieldmaiden.

She liked herself more like this; in her family, everyone was a fighter covered in dirt with bad manners. Despite being an Earl, even her mother didn't spend time on her looks until it was really necessary. So Skuld did her best to look as good as possible.

Mother had no problem buying her anything she wanted, what she wanted that she got. A smile here, a whine there, hug, fake tears, and she had the prettiest dresses within a week. Egil always complained that she was a spoiled little brat, but Skuld was more of a princess. Earl's daughter or not, she was made for royalty and ruling.

All the women told her that she was beautiful and graceful. She deserved to be pampered and complimented. Who else out there was as perfect as her? Beauty was her dagger to wield, less messy than the real thing. A courteous smile and sweet words, and everyone ate out of her hand.

The other girls in Yugar flocked around her like meek little sheep, trying to gain her attention and friendship. You say they look pretty or that you like them, and like naive children, they believe every word. Mother always said it was dangerous to live in a perfect world; it was a nasty place filled with greedy and stupid people. It's your decision on which side you want to be on.

Her brothers were the stupid ones, running after girls, fighting, burping, and farting to make themselves laugh. Their mother, on the other hand, was smart, which meant she was greedy. After all, she was an Earl and ruled the people easily. Skuld was greedy, too; she wanted to hold power as well. So ambition would be her other dagger, this one sharper and more fatal.

"Skuld! Come watch Egil make a fool of himself!" With glee, the girl shot from her spot on her mother's throne and run outside to watch Egil fail at flirting.

"Five hundred and thirty-eighth, five hundred and thirty-nine..."

She sighed and banged her head against the wall once. Daggers... That's what she needed, real daggers to carve out the shieldmaiden's hearts. Beauty and ambition would do her naught now. What would she do? Try to seduce the forty-year-old mother or her loyal lover? Maybe some of her shieldmaidens. Undressing always made people speechless, mostly because they didn't expect it. But women still fared better. It was the man that lost all common sense when their cocks got hard.

Women just crossed their legs, scowled, and talked. That's when sweet-talking came in handy, and by morning they were laying naked beside her. But that wouldn't work on the usurpers. Real weapons would serve better.

Again she hit her head against the wall and watched the ceiling. If there was some light in here, she could at least watch the shadows there. But the room was one huge shadow on itself. All she could see was darkness and her own bright dress and hair.

Her hand throbbed as she picked at the fresh scabs of her bloody knuckles. Skuld had hit the door in her rage as if she could beat it down. It didn't work; all it did was make her angrier and tired. Oh, so tired. She could sleep and hope to wake up in her own bed at home, instead of a small dark cell. The more time passed, the smaller the room seemed to her. With one last bang against the wall, she slumped down to sleep, bored of the world around her.

In her dreams, she was back at home, five or four, sitting in her father's lap as he sat on his high seat, ordering people around. Mother always said he was soft, which made him stupid and unjust. He got swayed easily, but on the battlefield, he was invincible. Well, he used to be. Until he got beheaded in Frankia, he got no burial, the boat they burned was empty, maybe he was in Valhalla, perhaps not.

She could care less, barely remembering his face or voice. Sometimes, in her dreams or memories, Skuld sad his fair hair and a small beard. Othertimes he had no face, just a blank head. She never looked above his neck. Why should she? The sigh of the kneeling people in front of him was prettier. She imagined herself in his place, what she would have done. But never came up with an answer. What was the point anyway?

The dead were dead, and she was alive for now. The past was an anchor tying you to the realm of reality so that you wouldn't get lost in the clouds. But right now, she wanted to fly the highest she had ever been. Far away from all this bullshit. The furthest distance away from this hut that probably had spiders and rats hidden inside. Away from the shrinking walls and haunting darkness. She was Skuld Ylvasdottir. The only daughter of Ylva the Brave, Earl of Yugar, the Lioness.

Skuld was a lion as well, a cub, but a lion nonetheless. She wouldn't beg them to let her out. Instead, she would scream her throat hoarse and spit blood on them if needed. Lions aren't afraid of anything, not the dark or death itself. "When I get out, they will no longer call me a naive child or lion cub. I am a woman, vengeful, and ambitious.

#history vikings #vikings #vikings imagine #original character #original female character #Hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk x oc #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar x oc

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whatsthenameofthisgame · 4 years

Text

Intergalactic Interrogations (II)

"Where am I?"

[What do you mean?]

"Instead of just sitting there moving blood all day, and failing roughly might I add,- Are you recording this conversation? That's disrespectful, I'll have you know we started learning binary and ridiculous little facts about your friend. I don't know who raised you wrong,"

[Hey.}

"I'd- {emmited} have you forget. Speak English numb for brawl! *maybe there is a slap here*"

["Go to the top 10 close or near you everywhere you go that you consider the smartest people in the world & become their best friends foreverest...," I drawl out every one of my answers like a disgusting fountain, yet they aren't happy with any of them. To think it all could have started with a scared girl asking me what I know and warp through timespace paranoia, or that quantum mechanics has caused this all to be real.]

"Here's (apparently) what living sages do they write all of the time. And they secretly don't give a fuck what anyone thinks about them."

[I'm listening to someone write the show for me, I don't always connect parts of my brain with other parts so well, but when I don't its's because I'm completely mental that I can make things out as other sounds.]

"He inserted apparently over us. What a dick head."

[I was writing before this as well. Get ready for another roundabout of Intergalactic Interrogations]

["How would you describe this, Fake Judas(2) what kind of situation do we have here? Remember, I'm made to forget and then reremember again."]

"It's very logical. It's simple. You have to have a Marine Corp mindset in infilitrating the cause."

[I am both afraid and completely unafraid of what I am doing. To be afraid of this silly game would be ridiculous and stupid. On the other hand he's been learning from me as I learn from him-]

"He's been completely thinking ridiculous things over what we're saying. He's a whoremonger." ""IT IT,"" maybe demons scream, but I am untethered from the boulder like a chain beneath the ocean, the weight simply presses into the sand. The fishes swim around as I wander in my drowning to the top where the ship is safe in the sunlight.

[On the other hand- quantum questions pose like prose, possessing possibly - I ignore FakeJudas(2). It is hard to keep up with everything. I need a writer still. I turn to Affiliate. Please have Alliteration do her thing without guiding us into rap for hours on end again, thank you very much. Affiliate looks confused and furious, for I often thought he was on the wrong end of the job spectrum ever since our staycation in the fire bird land of no sounds, place of the falsified Gods, faces in the spaces, The Devil's home of Peter's ignorances ... Anyway where was I? It is really hard to keep up with everybody and everything. There is a whole plot line, that I feel truly matters, and we are all missing it for the amount of activity going on in all of your heads while I've got mine. Is it mine? To start. Or are all of these conversations I'm tapping into the way of the real brain. Every particle of water an ocean? Every idea a world of thought? I already thought so. It isn't time for creative freedoms. I think we are supposed to focus on my suicide. For the sake of suicide. "Aha! Where we were last standing, one of the better reasons why I have roses elegantly and unevenly tattooed on my fingers. They're both cocked and one is in my mouth outright, while the other is at you. It was in your hands, and I gave you the tools necessary to save it. Save your belly aching. Every bit of paranoia, was it real, or were you trying to induce it? Save it for the masses. I know it's always a little bit of both. And that the most obvious answer is usually the truth. Variety is the best spice- and I'll have at my dad's pizza with way too much spice, for the loving good Grace from which Moses parted the water of life into place, (I am making a Tokyo MewMew joke that is a bit elongated) the V for which has He, Friends With Time, Drawer of Lord Excalibur when I actually love myself, rainbow gay pride I've forgotten uniciorn chapter books volume one and two powers activate!) *I start to turn, /now I am not paying attention to anything as I mash jokes into my own life story./

"This is what we paid for. This is disgusting filth. Think you can handle it?"

Think you can handle it? Would Filthy Frank even read this shit right here? We didn't even pay for all of these references. We're just hoping we get so many more people on team blue than team red so that we're able to just diss the suing right out of the waters like a lotus. Hah! Get that. I'm named after water so I'm doing water jokes. Listen, kid. I have heard a lot of jokes from the demons. You really don't want to start with me. I'm trained to accept them as a compliment, which I was saying back before we were all *I'm channeling Filthy Frank's voice in a ricefields sunhat visor right here* simple and shit. Now they are even trying to insult me with compliments and it's working. Listen, you never did knew that evil was good and proper and right. There was a new face of evil on the block, and it was the face of a genius sociopathic borderline child.

"Oh my God, You really do think like you're God."

[Guess what. Bitches, I have Autism so I cannot understand the emotional connotation in your words. Knowing that, I interpret it as fast as crazy, which is why no sweat because I also know that sometimes that's exactly what you're doing. Meaning I think of many ideas and crap. Your every thought could come to me like an intellectual process. I have no way of being.]

"Do you think you're special? Stay on topic please, I've seen we've gone a little socio today lady."

["I am silent. All is the same in my canoe which is made of wood and has travelled from hell through the underground rivers to the open and vast, great sea. Cold, or hot, shivering or sweating, thirst or hunger, war, famine, fire, flood, I know that I must and can navigate through it and 'round, 'round again, for this canoe and its lantern was tethered to my soul, it was tethered to my idea of neutral state meditation through chaotic forces. I was the canoe, one could say. I was the ship. Or the wood. The wood which came from the tree. Maybe The Tree. A Tree of Time, careful creature, making friends with it. And as the tree, and with brainwaves being like a tree, and all things one in the same, I made a hollow for those beyond to perch before they fade to worlds-"]

"This is artinery, itternerary(?) Get to the point."

[Often what I say, I sort of contribute to ghosts and other things.]

"This is what we get out of you? Jesus. (What are you, Santiago?) What happened to the sainthood?"

["Indeed I am Santiago, Another one of my many names, Dare ye say it, (Which they didn't.)]

"Look at what this kid is thinking of completely loaded. I think that maybe it is hilarious. Or perhaps all his excuses for crap."

[Indeed that all of this content was now filler. JENGA was on hiatus since the before times. We cannot remember those Interrogation Negotiations. But they were amazing. We have screenshots of half of them and had to delete the better half because they were too good and terrifying. We will try to interpret the rest of them someday (soon?).]

[The prophet wasn't just an excuse I made up. It was A Dream. A Dream that one day we will live not by the color of our skin, but by the confusing and complex mental makup which propels us towards the best future for us evolutionarily. Forget about that, everything. Like you have made me, by my words, let us start from the beginning.

Two systems learning from each other causes complex interactions to occur, especially when both have different and unfair advantages over each other. One could say each part of the brain that makes up the whole is its own complex system.]

"Stop talking about them to other people. I hope they rot for what they did to those people."

[Here is a classic bit where I have the chance to explain how either The Devil or The Enemy (FakeJudas2) Might try to make me look like the culprit. Reverse Psychology. It works on me. Which is why my card is chaotic. I don't want you to know what I'm doing, and if you do, then why should it matter what I do? It seems the whole world knows and yet no one knows. God knows what nobody feels like, because he is like us, we are made in his image. If I am nobody, he is nobody. So nobody knows just as well enough as anybody knows. But in both parts give or take, there are still bodies. Lot's of bloody and mutilated bodies which The Enemy has made of my Friends' & Loved One.]

/I take le break/

Depending on how serious JENGA gets, we have to use different members of the army through me. How did we get here, how is this all possible. It is a really meaningful story with lots of science, but we do not have infinite time. I will try to get to that at most.

"What about your boyfriend,"

["For the sake of Einstein, for the sake of proving you can go from Autism to full-blown socio, that realizing the brain works in the way that it does, and that it is all of your faults for being stupid assholes. It my fault for being a stupid asshole. And God is My Judge. Not You."]

"So, are you planning on telling him about any of this, or do you not know how important he is?"

["For the sake of insanity, genius is found."]

"Are you still completely avoiding the question? And how is it that he knows we're watching him for? Does he complete God in the blood?"

[Some things I do not understand. Or remember, or reitterate well. Catch me on drugs. Dattebayo! *flashback* Dattebayo was where it all started. The ten men, pandora's box, the stories, the puzzles, the lands across, the signs, a single time fine dining, and it is also there but not completely all-there.]

"So dattebayo was where it all started, huh? How embarrassing for one so wasted on the regular."

["Never giving up. Dattebayo. Believe it." "How about the story of the modulators some more? Before or after they were modulators? I have many stories to entertain you."]

"even when the conversation is all dead he has a way of going more crazy." a girl chimes in "He's probably been listening to what we are saying and considering it as JENGA."

he continues "Tell me a story to entertain me, that is what I am here for, give me a wild ride, show me some lude-icrous, something more, vivid, that shows me your kind of ideal lifestyle."

["You sounded like the villain in Tarzan for a second there. Well that's me, Tarzan. Me. Need. Jane. Didn't think I could play her. Rub the mud on my face, ask my monkey mother why I am not like them, she says to wipe the mud off.]

"I'm getting more curious, about what you're doing... you can write more than pages, you can write a book."

[I have, it's something I've always been working on. I've written loads of books, just lost, unpublished, deleted... How about I get really high and have someone speak through me now that we're getting down to the odds and ends. Let's get to the nitty-gritty of it. Once you find a way to constantly market off of things that might bother you, you have struck gold my son. The idea however, is to make them better, not worse, so they have a reason to last through the ages. Easier said than done...]

"He/She talks like an old wheezer. They can't- Can they hear me? Can they hear over our conversations? *plethoras of someones' breathy Oh my Gods" over everything. That means they know we're here, they can really hear us! Good job,"

[Did the dialogue switch into a ghosts' narration? It is hard to tell without any figures to watch with my eyes, and the words coming with systems built into a natural Ouija of my own. I won't literally raise hell again, yet... it is always tempted. And must be avoided. We're stepping too close to stories of old. The quantum questions must be pressed. Think harder. I don't know what it is you're thinking, I'm only typing. I am a genius if we aren't psychic, and a numbskull for God if we are All One.

The modulators can be set to different configurations, and put into different settings and events to see the initial outcomes in a module. At all of the Modulators worst configurations, M for their last name is capital. A good example of perfect awful configurations is religious reenactments by a family module within my own person. One's nature is that of a dads', Two is that of a moms', Three is that of a sons', four is that of a daughters', And the configurations always leans towards the predominantly biased neutral algorithyms.

Too much math, too may graphs to come, not sure how to organize it all, so we will have to say, partay.]

"So it feels like you're being taken advantage of by everything." my best friend asks me as my mom may also paranoidly be bothering my brother about me in the distance because I am typing so fast in the middle of the night.

[We've has this conversation before, so it's GroundHog day, only bigger, it's a show.]

"That's what we've been trying to tell you, You should write a show instead of bothering, us."

["Where is Jeremy Todd Ewbank?" I am the horseman, or headless, all the numbers, and the dungeon master because we currently already have a dab master, so you can Direct Message me the answer, Because I'm the Daniel Manual you've been looking for.]

"Jeremy Ewbank is not with us anymore. He's literally done. He can barely breath from your shit."

[The interrogations go haywire as soon as they begin again. Which one of us is being interrogated. "What happened to Jeremy Ewbank. Don't make me rhyme a hundred things with master in a bad rap. Aye, you know that gurl was my princess. You know, we know, we would never let go of or throw away one another, so where is he, *I put an invisible gun, but because I have written this, I will always be paranoid of them. We have to avoid them.

Evacuation Strategies: Red dots: Fun if you're a cat, dangerous if it is a gun. Shrodinger's Gun.

I take a break from interrogations because of laziness and lack of drugs. "JENGA," I claim, and the imaginary tower falls. How to explain a thing about creative manifestation to you, about all of the wild possibilities? So hard, I'd rather play Nintendogs for three hours.]

This is breaking bread with thine enemy

#writing #crack #Intergalactic Interrogations #Intergalactic crack #Intergalactic #Interrogations

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nneefa · 5 years

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fic: linda

fandom: xiaolin showdown

characters: raimundo/kimiko, clay, omi, the tohomikos

summary: if raimundo hadn't known kimiko better, he'd think she was fishing for a compliment, given that omi and clay had just sung her praises. as it was, he did know her better, especially if the glint in her blue eyes was anything to go by, and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

notes: ooh, boy. let's see where to start: 1) "linda" means "beautiful" in portuguese; 2) the park our teen kiddos are at is "Shinjuku Gyoen." i highly recommend y'all google it. it's very beautiful; 3) kimiko's yukata is based off this image; 4) this is like headcanons gone wild, but most importantly, credit goes to @sunbirddtellsstories for "Tomoko." i can only hope i portrayed her the way she was intended to be. 5) dedicated to the anon that asked me for raikim. i hope to the heavens that i portrayed the characters accurately.

[[MORE]]

❀

Raimundo barely had time to brace himself as the chilly spring air cut past the defenses of his layered clothing, right down to his bones.

He fought the urge to shiver as he sunk lower and lower into his coat, pulling his skull cap further over his ears before burrowing his hands into the safety of his coat pockets. He watched Clay shake like a pair of maracas on the ground, Omi pressed close to his side, like a squirrel clinging to a tree, in an effort to provide him warmth. He almost wanted to join them, anything to get rid of the goosebumps settling on his skin, but there was hardly any room on the blanket they sat on, with Clay's massive body taking up more than half the space, and somebody had to keep an eye out for Mr. Tohomiko for when he came back. The elderly man had insisted on getting them all hot drinks while they waited for the girls to show.

If only Kimiko were here; she could heat things up in an instant.

Speaking of Kimiko… leave it to her to take a long time, especially when this whole thing was her idea. Okay, maybe it wasn't her idea exactly - more like her sister's - but still. Japan was ridiculously cold. Where he's from, anything below sweltering was foreign, and even if he did spend the better part of three years training in the mountains of China, that didn't mean he was used to it.

Raimundo breathed a deep breath, watching it fade in the frigid air, and turned his gaze away from his friends to survey the park they were in.

Tokyo really was a beautiful city, especially in the spring. The only things he'd seen since their last visit were skyscrapers, shops, and shrines, and while those were nice and all, they paled in comparison to the city's blooming cherry blossom trees.

Sakura, Mr. Tohomiko had called them, stretched as far as the eye could see, the pink and white flowers breathtakingly beautiful against the bright blue sky, like something straight from a painting. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people, families and couples and loners alike, scattered across the large expanse of the park with blankets and baskets and cameras, some seated in the sun having picnics, some relaxed beneath the shade of the trees on the petal-laden ground.

There were women, children, and even some men dressed in elaborately designed kimono for the occasion, though the bulk of them wore regular, civilian clothes, and he wondered briefly if Kimiko would be wearing hers. (He quickly banished the thought). Raimundo was pretty sure he saw at least three ponds on their walk across the park, two different sections of landscape with their own sets of flora and fauna, a pavilion located across a bridge, and from their spot beneath a Sakura tree he could even see a tower in the distance.

If it weren't for the fact that he was waiting for the others, he definitely would've gone exploring by now. What did Kimiko call this festival again? Hanabi? Hanami? Hababi? Whatever! It was nothing like he'd ever seen, and he was thankful the Tohomikos were kind enough to let them join their family outing.

Though I'd truly be thankful if they hurried up, he thought to himself as another gust of wind blew through the park. Any longer out here and I'll be a human popsicle.

Just as he was about to ask Clay and Omi to make room for him, he saw Mr. Tohomiko slip through a gap in the crowd, carrying two cup holders full of piping hot drinks. Raimundo immediately moved after him, his hands already on the drinks before the man could react. "Here, let me help you with that."

Toshiro blinked at him, surprised, but then he smiled before relinquinshing his hold on the items. "You have my gratitude, Pedrosa-san. By the way, I hope I didn't take too long. Japan's spring can be a little unforgiving at times."

"Nah, it's okay," Raimundo replied with a smile of his own, following him to where Clay and Omi were seated. "Though I'm not sure if I can say the same for our pal Clay."

"Forgive me, Bailey-san," Toshiro apologized with a slight bow of his head and a sympathetic smile once they'd reached them. "I wasn't expecting to encounter so many Goo Zombie fans in one place."

"That's quite alright, sir," said Clay, nodding his head in thanks when he handed him a drink from the tray. "If anythin', I should be the one apologizin'. Had I known you'd be swarmed, I'd gone with you."

"With your station, you must get attacked a lot," Omi said, making a grab for one of the teas. "I can't imagine what it's like to be a famous person in such a big city."

"You certainly like to try," Raimundo teased, grinning when the young boy shot him a glare over the rim of his cup.

The Dragon of Water blew into his tea before taking a sip, sparing Toshiro an earnest look. Genuinely, he added, "If you'd like, Mr. Tohomiko, we can accompany you until we return to the temple. We'll make sure no harm befalls Kimiko's papa."

Toshiro let out a hearty laugh, his smile as kind and warm as ever. "What kind young men you are! But there's no need to worry over an old man like me. Kimiko and Tomoko help me plenty already."

"Now that you mention them," Clay trailed off, curling his knees to his chest with a swig of his coffee, "what d'ya reckon's keepin' 'em?"

Toshiro fished into his coat pocket for his cell phone in order to check the time, his brows knitted in confusion. "I'm not sure," he answered. "It has been quite some time since we were scheduled to meet. Perhaps, I should call them."

"Knowing Kimiko, she probably lost track of time doing her nails again, right, Omi?" Raimundo joked, elbowing him with a wink after placing the trays on the blanket. "It wouldn't be the first time, now would it?"

"Nor the last," the younger monk agreed, recalling the time where their friend forgot the Ancient Scroll of the Shen Gong Wu over her panda faces.

"What d'ya think it is this time?" Raimundo asked with a grin, pilfering a cup of hot cocoa from the tray before opting to lean against the tree. "Giraffes or smiley faces?"

Omi shook his head. "She did smiley faces last week." Then he smiled and said, "My butt's on teddy bears."

"Uh, that's 'bet's,' bro," Raimundo corrected him with a raised brow. "I think she'll settle for something simple this time, like french tip."

"My wager's on flowers," Clay added, gesturing to the pink petals on the ground with his cup. "It'd certainly fit the theme of this here's festival."

As the boys continued to ponder over Kimiko's possible nail designs, Toshiro watching the exchange with a hint of amusement, none of them noticed the girls making their way through the crowd, towards their group. Not until one of them called out to Mr. Tohomiko.

"Papa!" Tomoko exclaimed, earning everyone's attention.

She looked completely out of breath as she came to a stop in front of her father, though that did nothing to stop her from smiling, and she hugged him just before launching into an explanation in Japanese. Apparently, her fans had swarmed her on the way here too, and wouldn't let her leave until she'd signed every single autograph and taken every single group photo there was to offer. It was thanks to the efforts of Kimiko that they even made it at all.

Raimundo heard a series of footsteps from behind father and daughter, followed by a chain of frustrated grunts, and knew it was Kimiko and her friend Keiko. Clay and Omi stood up, eager to finally see their teammate after what felt like hours in the cold, dusting cherry blossoms off of their clothes in the process. The Shoku leader smirked into his cup before closing his eyes and taking a swig of his cocoa, relishing in the sweetness just as Kimiko came into view.

"Geez, Kim. It took you long enough," he teased after swallowing his drink. "D'you have any idea how long we've been waiting for y-" But the faux complaint died on his lips when he finally opened his eyes and saw her, and in that moment only one word came to mind.

"What," Kimiko shot back with a raised brow, a smirk dancing across on her face. "Cat got your tongue? Say something!"

If Raimundo had thought Tokyo was beautiful in the spring before, then that was nothing compared to how Kimiko looked now. While a tiny, fleeting part of him had hoped she was wearing a kimono, he hadn't really expected her to go the whole nine, considering how much she'd loathed them in the past, but then again, it wouldn't really be Kimiko if she wasn't constantly proving him wrong.

She stood out like a flower all on her own in her black kimono, a dark swirl in a sea of color. Small pink and white petals adorned the top half of it, much like the cherry blossoms surrounding them, including the sleeves, though the closer it got to the bottom, they varied in size and shape until it was bursting with color, and holding it all together was a bright, gold sash and red string. Of course, her outfit wouldn't be complete if she didn't have a purse to match. Her hair was fashioned with both the Tangled Web Comb and Changing Chopsticks in an elaborately braided bun, her face framed by the loose, black curls that managed to escape her updo.

Had it been him three years ago, he'd have acted like an idiot and teased her on the spot, anything to downplay his attraction. But now, at 16-years-old, Raimundo found himself, not for the first time, speechless. She was- Kimiko was-

"Beautiful!" Omi had blurted at the top of his lungs.

Raimundo hadn't realized he'd been gawking at her like some kinda dopey, cross-eyed schoolboy until the small monk was no longer at his side, but fluttering about Kimiko with all the tenacity of a 13-year-old boy in love. Quickly, he averted his gaze to Keiko, whom he acknowledged with a nod of his head, as heat settled in his ears and cheeks, and for once since he'd arrived in Japan, he found himself grateful for the cold. He didn't trust his voice and he was pretty sure he looked like a tomato right now.

"Look at you! Well, aren't you 'bout as pretty as a magnolia in May?" Clay remarked, tipping his hat up with a finger to get a better view of their friend.

Omi nodded his head with a flourish as he admired her apperance from head to toe. "You look very pretty, Kimiko. You've even managed to incorporate the Changing Chopsticks into your wardrobe this time!"

Kimiko's cheeks darkened, though she beamed at their compliments, and she touched the aforementioned Shen Gong Wu with her free hand. "You like? At first I wasn't going to add them, but it went too well with my outfit to pass up. Plus, you never know when it'll come in handy."

"And look!" Omi cooed excitedly, taking her hand and holding it up like he'd just uncovered a new Shen Gong Wu. "She even styled her nails after France, just like you said Raimundo."

Quietly, she looked to Rai, who hadn't said a single word since she'd first arrived and raised a brow at him, her cocky smirk ever-present. "Well, Rai? What do you think?"

If Raimundo hadn't known Kimiko better, he'd think she was fishing for a compliment, given that Omi and Clay had just sung her praises. As it was, he did know her better, especially if the glint in her blue eyes was anything to go by, and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She'd purposely put him on the spot. (Granted, Omi did it first; he'd have to have a little talk with him about this later). He was vaguely aware that the guys were staring at him, anticipating his next words, but thankfully Tomoko had latched onto her sister's arm before Raimundo could loosen the knot on his tongue and speak.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the older Tohomiko girl had pulled her, and by extension Keiko, towards Toshiro for a group photo, with Omi as their photographer. Clay put a hand on Raimundo's shoulder as the group huddled together, a soft, yet knowing smile overtaking the cowboy's lips.

"That pretty, huh?" Clay asked, dropping his hand when Rai looked at him.

Though his hot cocoa was long gone, Raimundo felt a warmth settle in his stomach as turned back to face the group, just in time to see a genuine smile break out over Kimiko's face. For the first time ever, he found himself admitting a very obvious truth: Kimiko was beautiful.

"Yeah."

Clay blinked, taken aback by his best friend's gentle admission, but it didn't last very long and soon he found himself smiling too.

#xiaolin showdown #raikim #raimundo pedrosa #kimiko tohomiko #clay bailey #omi #toshiro tohomiko #neefa writes

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Klaine one-shot - “Sparking Joy” (Rated G)

Summary:

Kurt wants to Marie Kondo their home, but Blaine is struggling with how to deal with things that 'spark joy'. In the end, Kurt discovers that Blaine's method might be the best. (1966 words)

Read on AO3.

Thunk!

Blaine startles in his seat when an object drops out of nowhere and lands heavily on the living room floor. He’d been spending a relaxing morning and most of the early afternoon catching up on the latest issues of Variety!, his daughter Tracy hanging out with him, watching re-runs of Total Drama Island on her phone. He’s embarrassed to admit that, till that moment, he didn’t know what his husband was up to. Kurt usually spends his weekends designing new outfits or hitting up second hand stores, searching for inspiration.

Seeing Kurt standing in front of him, hands on hips, staring as if expecting an answer to an unasked question, Blaine realizes - not this weekend.

At Kurt’s feet sits a large cardboard box, edges white, corners worn from age, lopsided due to a decade sinking into the carpet at the bottom of a closet.

Blaine looks at the box, then at his husband, eyes glued to Blaine’s face.

“Uh … what’s going on, honey?” Blaine asks.

“It’s April 6th, darling.”

“Yes, it is,” Blaine agrees, looking over at his pre-teen daughter, who shrugs and goes back to her iPhone screen. “And that means …?”

“Today is the day we said we’d Marie Kondo the heck out of this place!”

“Oh.” Blaine nods, recognizing the reference vaguely in his confusion. “Yeah. Right. We’re … Kondo-ing our condo.”

“I knew you’d forget!”

“I didn’t forget. I just … didn’t exactly remember until now.”

“You promised you’d help me with this! This place is turning into a hoarder’s paradise! Lifetime is going to break down our door any day now and put us on TV!”

Blaine scans their stylish but minimally decorated living room – an impressive space that contains two sofas, a coffee table, and a piano. But aside from a slew of family photos on the walls (organized by date in color coordinated frames), there’s little else, definitely nothing that would warrant the label ‘hoarder’. Other rooms are much the same: clothes and shoes in closets categorized by use, subcategorized by season and color; with bookcases and cubbies to handle everything else. “What? Where are you getting that from?”

“I get that from your stack of magazines by the toilet in the master bathroom and our combined army of boxes in the top and bottom of every closet.”

“That’s it? That’s your definition of hoarder?”

“This is box number one of fifteen that you are responsible for going through,” Kurt continues. “Just follow the KonMari method: go through the box and touch every object. If it sparks joy and you can visualize a place to put it, set it aside. If not, thank it and put it back in the box. Once you’re done, put the box in the hall with the rest of our donations and move on to another box.”

“Got it.” Blaine moves from his comfy spot on the sofa to the hard wood floor. “I’ll get on it.”

“See that you do.” Kurt pivots on the ball of his foot and shuffles back to the master bedroom, where he’s been going through his own fair share of boxes to see what sparks joy. Blaine honestly forgot, but he remembers now – he and Kurt watching Marie Kondo explain her method on Ellen, and them reminiscing how they had boxes in their closet they hadn’t opened since high school. In the moment, Blaine was as excited as Kurt to begin. But after giving it thought, he wasn’t sure he wanted to part with anything from his past.

Plus, the whole process seemed incredibly overwhelming.

“Welp, one box at a time,” he mutters, opening the soft flaps. “What do we have in here? Oh … my … God …”

“What is that?” Tracy takes a seat beside her father on the floor as he pulls a thick gold chain with a circular amulet hanging off it from the top of the box.

“It’s part of a costume I wore for an ABBA routine the Glee Club did back in high school.” Blaine shakes his head, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “It was kind of a bittersweet time because your dad and I weren’t together, but I always knew we’d end up this way in the end. I can’t believe he’d expect me to give this up.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Daddy. Can I have it?”

Blaine stares at his daughter, hand already extended to receive. “Just like your mother,” he says, handing the necklace over since he can’t imagine when he’d ever wear it again. “Subtle as a sledgehammer.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she says, slipping the chain over her head. “What else is in there?”

“I think these are … yeah …” Blaine laughs as he pulls out what looks like a fighter pilot’s helmet “… these are all parts of old costumes I wore back in high school.”

“How many musicals did you guys put on?” Tracy asks, rifling through the contents of the box.

“Two. But a lot of impromptu stuff went on in the choir room.”

“I guess.”

“Look at these! My yellow sunglasses! Oh, and my Dalton blazer!”

“Were you a cheerleader?” Tracy snickers, holding up a white and red shirt for her father to see.

“Yes,” he says, snatching it away. “Don’t judge. So was your father.”

“No!”

“Yes, ma’am. He was also on the football team.”

“My Papa? Sorry. Can’t see it.”

Blaine spots a copy of their school yearbook from his junior/Kurt’s senior year. Kurt’s father had purchased a two page spread with pictures of Kurt from kindergarten through graduation. He knows there’s a pic of Kurt in his football uniform in there somewhere. He flips to the back and finds it. “See for yourself …”

Tracy takes the book and squints at the page, looking for any resemblance between the boy in the photograph, so thin that his protective gear amounts for two-thirds of his body, and her Papa. “Awww! He’s so cute!”

“Yes,” Blaine says, pulling out another yearbook and flipping through the pages, searching for another picture of Kurt, this time as a member of the Warblers. He grins, and adds under his breath: “Dirty cute.”

***

Kurt slides another box down the hallway and tetrises it into place. He stands up straight, stretching his sore back as he surveys the boxes he has compiled by the front door. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing when he feels it weighed down by dust. He’s going to have to take a shower before he makes dinner. He’s too hungry to shower, and too exhausted to cook. He could order in, but by the looks of those boxes, he may have accidentally blocked the door. He could ask Blaine to cook, or to move the boxes for the delivery guy, but he’s too bitter to do either. Kurt has spent the whole day tackling the job they were supposed to do together. By Kurt’s calculations, he’s pared down a metric ton of junk.

Blaine has possibly rearranged the contents of one large box. Kurt won’t know until he checks in on him.

Kurt should give his husband a chance to prove him wrong. They haven’t spoken for hours, so he doesn’t know what Blaine has or hasn’t done. But considering he never voluntarily came to the bedroom in search of a second box, he has his doubts.

Kurt trudges down the hall towards the living room. He hears Blaine talking and Tracy giggling, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. When he turns the corner, he’s pleasantly surprised to find Blaine’s box closed up and waiting patiently to take its place by the front door. Kurt smiles, relieved. Blaine did take this seriously after all. Good! But Kurt feels a small pang of guilt. He should have given Blaine a bit more credit. He should apologize.

He hears Tracy giggle again and decides to take a break from working to see what’s so funny. Both his husband and his daughter are sitting on the floor, hidden from view by the sofa. Kurt tiptoes in, but a few steps closer, he stops, crosses his arms, and sighs a long, exasperated sigh. Without saying a word, Kurt goes back to Blaine’s box and picks it up. It’s light as a feather. He gives it a shake to confirm his suspicions, then tosses it aside.

It’s empty.

“Blaine!” he groans, storming back into the living room to confront the man sitting amid a pile of every single item that had been packed in that box, and wearing most of it. “We talked about this!”

“I know,” Blaine says, putting up his hands in surrender and huddling closer to his daughter, hoping for the protection that comes from hiding behind an innocent child, “but I can’t help it, Kurt! Everything in that box sparked joy! It was from one of the best times in my life!”

“Blaine! Those things were from high school!”

“A-ha …”

“No one in the world thinks that high school is one of the best times in their lives!”

“I do!”

“How!? You got jumped outside a school dance, remember?”

“Yeah, but it’s also when I met you!”

Kurt stops ranting. He can’t argue with that. He’s often said that only a handful of good came from having to suffer the hell that was high school, and one of those was meeting Blaine. He has to admit, giving away mementos from that time was excruciating for him. But it had to be done. They have way too much stuff sitting in boxes. Kurt isn’t throwing them in the trash or sending them off to Goodwill. They’re not even giving them away away. The majority of his old costumes and props are being re-homed to the theater arts program at Tracy’s school. The next time the Harvey Milk School puts on a performance of West Side Story or Grease, Kurt will be able to revisit his old costumes and remember the good times.

Obviously, Blaine doesn’t feel the same way.

Kurt can’t be mad. He knows how sentimental his husband is. That’s one of the reasons he loves him.

Kurt looks at his ridiculous husband and their daughter, both decked out in everything Kurt had seen in that box – feather boas, a furry red jacket, Blaine’s old cheerleading top, a black top hat. Spread out around them are the only things he thought Blaine might keep – yearbooks, scrapbooks, journals, all open to various pages, displaying pictures from “the good old” days … and days Kurt didn’t think were so good at the time.

The New Directions the year they won Nationals.

Kurt as Officer Krupke tucked beside a picture of Blaine as Tony.

A candid of Blaine dressed in his cheerleading uniform, hula hooping with Tina in the school gymnasium.

Kurt and Blaine at prom the year Kurt was crowned queen.

Seeing these years of their lives spread out in the open on the living room floor, Tracy’s giggling makes sense. Not only was Blaine rescuing the things he felt sparked joy, he was sharing that joy with their daughter … something Kurt, in his haste to clean before the end of the weekend, had neglected to do.

Kurt steps around the sofa, picks his way through the books and the costumes, and joins Blaine and Tracy on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I guess I’m not good at the KonMari method,” Blaine says, offering a hand to help his tired husband to the ground.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Didn’t you find anything that sparked joy?”

Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s knee and rests his head on his shoulder. He peeks up at Blaine’s face and smiles. “I sure did.”

#klaine #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #frankie writes

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ask-secretagentsquad · 5 years

Text

Sacrifice

Romeo got nowhere with the Leader, and eventually opened the door and left him alone. He left it open behind him and left the Leader visible, just so he could see his work. Jesse was the first to notice him.

"Damn, Romeo. Feel better?" Jesse snarked to Romeo who chuckled and wiped his hands on his pants.

"Quite. If anyone else would like to take a go, he's all yours," he offered.

"Maybe later. Any more and he might die on us." Jesse studied the beaten Leader from a distance, surprised that he still showed no emotion.

"So, anything?"

"Lukas is still on the phone with Reginald. They're... Trying. Not only is it hard talking to the secret service, but the connection is also really bad in here and it's land-line so, the keep breaking up and having to re-call.”

“Really? That’s harder than speaking with the secret service?”

“Ehh yeah. Yeah.”

Romeo snorted a laugh and sat down at the table where both the Witherstorm page and the translated copy were laying.

“Oh- it was translated?”

“Oh, yeah- Not by any of us though. Luckily we’ve got some great connections. That whole blog thing? Really helping us out,” Jesse replied, sitting across from him.

“Who did it?” Romeo paused for a moment, “Their handwriting is very neat. And they worked... Quite quickly.”

“One of our contacts named Zone. She's very quick at this stuff, apparently. She beat Yellow to it," Radar spoke up from where he was sitting, "She must do that stuff for like, a living? I think Gil's mentioned her sometime too."

"Hm. Respects to Zone. That's good work-" Romeo tapped the paper and moved it aside, "And quite efficient. Easy to read. Accurate. Next time you speak with her, send my compliments. This is... Quite helpful."

As Romeo was taking his hand back, Jesse quickly noticed the bloodied marks on Romeo's knuckles that hadn't seemed to go away.

"Is that the Leader's blood, or yours?" he asked, snatching one of Romeo's hands before he could pull it away.

"Agh- probably mine, Jesse. I'm not used to so much punching. Believe it or not, the Leader's face is solid, and it kinda hurts to hit. But it was worth it, I can say without question!" Romeo drew his hand back and rubbed over his still stained knuckles with the other hand. He wasn't used to anyone else worrying.

Jesse got up without saying anything else, and left to go over and talk to Axel. For a moment, Romeo thought he’d upset him somehow, but Jesse came back moments later and sat this time beside him. He took Romeo’s hand again and gripped it as a way to tell Romeo not to jerk away.

They stayed silent, Romeo letting Jesse do what he needed. After a few minutes, Jesse let go of him, and Romeo pulled his hands back to see that Jesse had wrapped around his knuckles tight in bandages. He quirked an eyebrow and glanced up to Jesse.

“What? It’ll help it heal faster,” Jesse paused for a moment before cracking a light grin, “Besides, you’re not the bloody knuckles type of guy. It doesn’t match your image.”

Romeo chuckled and rubbed over the bandages.

“Thank you, I suppose you’re right."

“Yeah, you’re more of a clean and crisp businessman, right? I always got that vibe from you.”

“I try to be, yes,” Romeo folded his hands in his lap and cleared his throat quietly, “However working with so much oil at times can be a bit ruining to that appearance.”

“I would think so. But you don’t really work with machines a lot, do you?”

“Well—not necessarily. Yet the entire vault is filled with them. You can’t really even walk through there without getting some dirt on you,” Romeo brushed his vest, making the wiping motion as an extra theatric.

“Now you’re just being dramatic, it can’t be that bad,” Jesse waved it off with a smirk.

“You’ve got a bit of grease on your face still, Jesse. I can assure you it’s because you walked through the vault one solid time.”

“No, that was because I rescued you from underneath an attack helicopter,” Jesse wagged a finger at Romeo, who laughed and leaned back in his seat.

“Oh, fair, but I’ll prove this to you. Once we get back to the vault, I’ll show you how, with me doing nothing, I can somehow get dirtied in the vault. I don’t know how, but I promise you it happens.”

“If you say so, Rom,” Jesse grinned and leaned against the table, resting his head on one hand. Romeo smiled at the nickname. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, of course, but it felt nice just genuinely chatting with someone else. Be it it was his said rival, that didn’t matter. It felt nice being a person again.

For a while they sat in silence, before Lukas finally put the phone down. The clack of the phone brought everyone out of their dazes.

“Well, we’ve got nothing so far. Reginald is doing his best but it takes a lot to persuade the president,” Lukas sighed and walked over to the table before sitting down and leaning his head on his hand.

“Well, at least they’ve been notified of the situation. They should get help soon,” Yellow piped up a reply.

“I hope so. I don’t trust that this leader guy will comply to being captured for very long and the longer he’s here the more anxious I get.”

“I’ll go check on him and make sure the chains are right,” Yellow said, getting up, “Better safe than sorry.”

“Be careful.. I don’t trust him,” Riot spoke up this time from where he was watching the cameras with Olivia.

“Don’t worry, Riot, I’ll be fine, he’s chained up and is probably still out of it from whatever Romeo did to him,” Yellow’s tone didn’t change, but he gave Riot an assuring look before he left the room. Riot leaned back against the wall and watched him go. All he could remember was the first attack on their apartment. He didn’t trust Yellow anywhere near the Leader.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Yellow, it was just that he didn’t trust Yellow’s mindset. After everything that’d happened, and with the Witherstorm’s clear knowledge of Yellow as a potential threat, Riot logically thought that the two needed to stay as far away from each other as possible.

However there Yellow went, going to face the Witherstorm Leader to the face. The room separated Yellow from the others, and Yellow stopped only a few feet from the chair where the Leader was propped up still sitting tall. His head was dipped only slightly, and tilted upwards to give Yellow a passive glance.

Yellow had to control his own impulses, and went around behind the chair to tighten the chains and make sure they were all locked tight.

~~~~

Orion knew who he was, just upon instinct. This was Yellow. He had to remind himself that he was buying time, and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He glanced over to the window, where light was pouring into the room, and leaned back against the metal chair. He felt the chains tighten against his chest and into his wrists, pressing him back even further.

Yellow came back around to the front and stopped just in front of Orion. He seemed to be containing something inside: heavy, heavy emotions, difficult to hold back. He lifted Orion's gaze to meet his, and Orion shot him a light look. Yellow didn't flinch, he didn't recoil, he barely showed a response. This caught Orion by surprise.

"You won't drop your appearance, will you?" Yellow said after a moment, nonchalantly and almost bored. His accent also caught Orion off guard. It was almost an obnoxious change from what he was used to.

Orion grumbled and turned his head aside, looking away from Yellow.

"I cannot wait to be rid of you. Maybe then can I start to heal. For now, I have to keep all this anger stored in me. But that's OK. Maybe one day I'll be able to take it all out on you. Luckily for you, they want you alive," Yellow stepped off to the side and scowled.

Orion chuckled to himself. This implied Yellow would be able to kill him, which was a foolish thought. He glanced back to the window, only to catch a quick glimpse of a figure, a shadow, poking through the rays of light. Yellow's back was turned, and Orion squinted for a better view.

Lukas waved from the window, his goggles and mask pulled over his face. Lukas signed to him from where he was, hoping Orion could see him.

"Can you escape? I'm going to create a diversion to get everyone off your back. Use the window on the high right to get out to the roof and split from there. We can meet back at the ED."

Orion understood, and nodded, before Lukas's figure disappeared from the window. He could finally free himself. In all honesty, he was expecting Ranger, as the usual rescue missions go, but wasn't disappointed to see Lukas. In fact, he was a bit excited. Lukas in action was something he'd been wanting to see since the first time they'd met.

In about a split second, Orion dug his heels into the ground and, with one brash jolt upwards, jerked and shattered the chains binding him. Metal chain links tinked against the ground everywhere, and Orion brushed the shattered chain from off of his lap. Yellow whipped around only for Orion to grab him by the neck and slam him up against the metal wall. He lifted him off his feet, ignoring the kicks and not losing eye contact.

~~~~

Yellow choked against the man's grip and tried desperately to kick away, but felt himself going out anyway. There was a loud cry from the doorway, and Riot ran in, not wasting any time before hitting the Leader as hard as he could over the head with a metal beam. The Leader dropped Yellow to the ground and turned to Riot instead.

Yellow dropped into a coughing heap on the metal ground, a hand to his throat as he tried to recover. All the Leader needed to do was get a good grip on Riot's head before delivering a harsh punch to the jaw to knock him clean out. He dropped Riot, watching with light content as he crippled to the ground, unconscious. Yellow pushed himself to his feet shakily, ready to make an attempt to attack, but he felt a hand shove his head into the wall and everything immediately went black.

Jesse was the next to notice the Leader as he came out of the room. He watched him grab the nearest pistol and raise it directly at him. For a second, he expected to feel the sharp pain of a bullet in his chest, but it never came. There was a different cry, and it took a moment for Jesse to realize his eyes were closed, and when he opened them, glancing down at his own chest and seeing there was no wound, no blood.

He looked up, only to see his own rival standing far in front of him, almost exactly between him and the Leader. Romeo stood still for a moment before dropping onto his knees, and Jesse suddenly knew what happened. He didn't even get a chance to cry his name before the Leader shot two more times, this time aimed directly at Romeo.

Romeo fell forwards, and the Leader held his ground, the pistol at the ready to fire at anyone else who dared move.

Jesse wanted to run, not to attack, just to get to Romeo, just to make sure he was alive, but even if he wanted to, he couldn't. He was frozen. He felt nothing but pure shock. For some reason, he felt as though he'd just watched a long-time friend die, right in front of him.

Then everything went from bad to worse as the sound of a window shattering was heard, and electric arrows almost rained down on the group. None hit, but they made their point, and the team scattered. Lukas caught sight of the Leader making a run for it, and ran after. He followed him up and out of a window near the roof, and they both left the warehouse. The arrows soon ceased right after.

Jesse ran right to Romeo, followed by Gil.

"Romeo!" he rolled Romeo onto his back, the three bullet wounds clear, however all missing Romeo's heart.

Romeo coughed and shifted uncomfortably, moving one hand over his chest. He had a stream of blood dripping down his chin, and there was already a puddle of blood where he'd been laying.

"Jesse, Jesse it's ok-- go catch them.. You're good at that... Rooves, it's your specialty, go catch them..." Romeo pushed weakly at Jesse, moving him away and motioning him to start the chase. Jesse knew he had to. He didn't want to, but he did, and turned to climb to the window the arrows came from.

Gil was left with Romeo as others slowly gathered, trying to get him as much help as possible. Olivia and Petra found the unconscious bodies of Yellow and Riot and helped get them out as well. Gil glanced back at the window that Jesse left from, hoping that he'd make it back soon. His hopes weren't very high.

#mcsm au #secret agent squad #story #witherstorm #sa jesse #sa lukas #sa romeo #sa olivia #sa james #sa kelly #sa orion #r!lukas #sa gil #sa petra

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blairtrabbit · 6 years

Text

Thoughts on Goddamn Voltron

1. The treatment of Shiro and Adam as a couple was the stupidest shot at “representation” i think I’ve ever seen and it honestly made me angry. We don’t know anything about Adam. We don’t know anything about him but his name and that he possibly has some sort of relationship with Shiro. We are never even allowed to see them physically touch (because this would be gross I suppose) and when Adam is killed off immediately in the initial invasion there is no emotion to it other than he was someone we were supposed to care about because Shiro cared about him. Or ...so its suggested. Not only is Shiro denied any sort of emotional catharsis after being forced to be stoic and endure unimaginable amounts of physical and mental trauma there is no one waiting for him to come home. They are killed for absolutely no reason aside from creating some bizarre boyfriend in the refrigerator for a character who certain has enough anger at the Galran empire that he doesn’t need anymore. If Adam was introduced to show Shiro was gay then that failed. If Adam was introduced to heighten the stakes that failed too. Adam was created to die for no damn reason and unless he somehow appears in season 8 this kind of shit queer-baiting is un-acceptable...hell even IF he comes back who cares? we aren’t even given the chance to know him as a person so whats to come back? Sidenote: Don’t make Shiro sick with some terrible wasting disease and then NEVER mention it again. What the SHIT. 2. The treatment of Lance is unimaginably cruel and I don’t understand it. In season three Lance proves himself to be a mature member of the team and not only does he help Allura who took his lion he becomes Keith’s right hand after a rocky start. He has shown multiple times that he is vulnerable, once to Keith’s face, and yet his leader and his team constantly question his choices and insult him. It went beyond ribbing this season. It felt like everytime there was a chance for the writers to do it they stuck in a Lance barb. I kept expecting a breakdown a moment where he finally defended himself, walked away or told them that he was tired of it. But that moment never happened. Instead the strong right hand of voltron just takes it and continues to do his job. No matter how many great shots or encouraging comments he makes he never gets fucking complimented. Also the writers seemed more determined then ever to give him absolutely no arc or focus. Which leads me too- 3. Why the hell did Hunk have Lance’s story arc. Theres this thing in writing called “setup and payoff” Its a super simple concept that all writers,especially in film and television, know how to use. You set up a concept early and later on it pays off with an emotional revelation or a character change. In seasons one two and three...even four? Lance was the only one on the crew besides Pidge who talked about his family. We saw them in his memories. he had a scene with Coran where he talked about missing earth. He talked about his mom and so on. That was his starting point and when he gets back to earth it should have been his family in the camps, his speech about being angry about coming back to a peaceful earth and a closed end to his talk with Keith about being a leader and how he respects him as one back in season 3. Having Keith compliment his bravery would cement him as his right hand the person hes SUPPOSED to be closest to on the team. Hunk had no set up for this. He never mentions his family or how much he misses them. He talks about food but for some reason he was given the ending arc that Lance EARNED but wasn’t given. In fact it feels like it was even written for Lance but was changed because they goddamn hate him and decided he doesn’t get an arc fuck you. 4. Hey. Hey Voltron. Its called fucking character development. If you wanted to make Allura and Lance have a relationship you can’t make them blush in ONE EPISODE and call it development. Why don’t you cut down on the 90 fucking minutes of brain melting action sequences and put in some more character development. You can’t just dedicate the first half of your season to some goofy (lance abusing) comedy then spend the last half in one constant exhausting battle and expect us to give a shit about the cadets or anyone you introduce on earth. To me the stand out episode this season was the one where everyone is floating in space. They had to...INTERACT with each other but even this episode felt empty because Keith was the only one allowed to act out...AGAIN. Where was Lances righteous anger? Or even Allura’s? Why is Hunk stepping into this role as mediator all the sudden? What even lead to that? Was he literally just written into the Lance roles? If you wanted to tear the group down to have them be built back up then you have to do so on equal footing and it felt....tame. Like you didn’t want the kids to worry too much. Stress makes people act in cruel ways sometimes and overcoming it is a part of good character development. Instead it was just some lame foreshadowing about the deux ex machina that was lion summoning. It had so much potential-SO MUCH.

5. Not everybody has to end up in a fucking relationship. Axca? Seriously? Man are you gonna crank out some romance bullshit in season 8 aren’t you voltron? Is that what your gonna do? Make sure everyone gets a set of corresponding genitalia to wrap everything up in a nice straight bow? I’m sure you’ll give Shiro some kind of significant other right? Or maybe just have him smile at a dude ala live action Beauty and the Beast because that's what representation looks like in 2018. 6. Coran not getting to build the spiritual successor of his grandfathers work is kinda bullshit.

He spent literally every season waxing lyrical about how great his pop pop was and how much he wanted to be the one to build something like he did and then the castle is destroyed and I’m like oh man so cool Coran is gonna get his wish.Thats so emotionally rewarding that after all the hero-worship Hes gonna have the opportunity to build a new castle even better than the one his grand-oh -no...ok Sam did it. Yeah ok.

7.YOU CAN’T SPEND ONE EPISODE ON EARTH BEING DESTROYED AND SHOW MAYBE THREE PEOPLE AND EXPECT ANYTHING TO HAVE EMOTIONAL WEIGHT. Hey, remember the movie Independence day? Not a great movie but it actually felt like the world was being invaded. It felt like peoples lives were being interrupted on a large scale and it accomplished this by showing the invasion from multiple pov’s worldwide. Would that have been so hard? Maybe show a little girl at school seeing a Galra ship. A man in Africa? A mother in Russia? Just quick shots. Thats all you need. A few establishing shots to show that people are experiencing something foreign and terrifying. I know its a kids show and you gotta what...keep it Y-7 but the Galra literally killed thousands and thousands of people-possibly millions you can’t just gloss over that. STAKES CAUSE TENSION. WITHOUT STAKES OR JUSTIFICATION A BATTLE IS EMPTY AND POINTLESS.OH ON THAT NOTE. 7. THE BATTLES IN THE LAST EPISODES BECOME RIDICULOUSLY BORING AND REPETITIVE. You can tell what the writers wanted to write. They wanted to write whole scenes where people star trek groaned in chairs and shouted about how much time they had.Because of the season lack of setup or stakes buildup in the previous episodes theres no tension whatsoever. Do I care about the people of earth? No I haven’t even seen them. I care about Shiro and the mains ...not even the cadets. I haven’t seen them interact enough with each other to even establish their personalities. So if the whole earth fries eh...I care more if Shiro is ok because i’ve gotten to know him over time. If the entire battle was to save Shiro from a falling ship (HOW THE FUCK DID HE SURVIVE THAT BTW I GUESS BEING A CLONE MADE HIM IMMORTAL) It would have more weight to it than the entire Hour long clusterfuck that was the battle for Hunk’s Parents, literally the only humans we care about. 8. WORLDBUILDING? HOW ABOUT FUCK YOU. Wow...so WW3 huh. That sounds interesting Voltron you wanna...no? Alright so...Russia is still a country this far in the future? Is China still communist or? Hey...why is this lady the queen of the Garrison? Why is her position so important? Who funds the Garrison? Is it the United States? The UN? Is it an international organization? Who pays the bills? The funding must come from some government who would be curious why you asked for millions of dollars towards all these bizarre supplies that could be used to build the biggest ship ever made.Why is Admiral Sanda god? She keeps threatening to go over their heads in the chain of command but that means that SHE has to report to someone? WHo?? THE PRESIDENT? SOME KIND OF WORLD LEADERSHIP COUNCIL? I know this shit is hard but come ON. Earth is NOT like these alien planets Voltron has been on that have a centralized monarchy or singular race with one central government. If Sanda is worried about causing wars and global panic thats fine but shes the one commiting treason by not reporting to her own superiors and letting the leaders of the free world make decisions on behalf of their own people. One person can’t make all the decisions we call that LAAAAAAAAZZZZYYYYYY. Oh and about Admiral Sanda? 9. Admiral Sanda is the worst villian Voltron ever faced Why did you try and give her a redemption arc? Every decision she made was stupid every choice was just...so dumb. She betrayed everyone and her level of power kept making me go...why...is she the queen of earth? When she died I was like good. What a dumbass. Don’t try and redeem someone who did nothing good in the first place especially if you never established enough world building to show she might have been correct. We can’t just trust TELL you have to SHOW us. 10. If you think the racism against immigrants is bad now I can’t even imagine the civil wars when actual aliens just invite themselves over. 11. Thanks for fucking up our tide systems by parking a fucking Balmera directly in our atmosphere assholes. In conclusion:THANKS I HATE IT.

#fuck this #fuck everything #voltron #vld #season 7 spoilers #season 7 #voltron legendary defender #lance deserved better #again

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skyecrandall · 6 years

Text

TannerXFlynn (part1/4)]

I know what you are thinking. I know you all want to kill me but i did it as a dare and somehow got enough invested in this ship that I’m making it a 4 part story. It is also my submission to @clonedhayden ‘s ChoicesCreates65 whose theme was non-canon couples.

Brb I hope you guys enjoy it. I do not know how to write romance at all especially if they are not my OCs so please deal with this newbie writer here . Comedy and adventure are more my writing style.

Also, could you guys help me get a name for this series? My brain kinda farted on this :/

Tagging : @alanakusumastan @mlmseangayle @clonedhayden @choiceslife and @boneandfur since they showed interest in it.

"Dammit !" Said Flynn as he slammed his fist against the wall of his room.

"Why did all this have to happen? Why did he die?" He muttered.

He was emotionally wreck currently. The chain of revelations was too much for him. First Tanner didn't uphold the deal and now he is dead? What is even happening here...

Flynn should probably be feeling relieved right now but he also felt sadness. Was it a sign that he truly was in love with Tanner?

To think it all started about a month ago, the day he was released.

It had been 6 years that he had been staying in prison. After all these years, he could finally spend time with her dear sister Kate. That brought a smile to his face which didn't last long as he saw Tanner Sterling coming towards him.

"What are you doing here Sterling? Came to add another 4 years to my sentence?" asked Flynn.

"I have to time to lose O'Malley, let's get quickly in the limousine. I have an appointment," said Tanner as he grabbed Flynn's wrist.

"Hold on, why would I come with you? If I remember well, wasn't it your family who sent me here and even extended my stay here?" Said Flynn as he backed off Tanner's grip.

"It is because Kate told me to. We are getting married Flynn and she sent me to come and fetch you. Since she is busy buying her gown with mother, shd was not able to come along. I have an important meeting later, so now let's go!" replied Tanner as he started walking back to the limousine, expecting Flynn to follow.

What Tanner just said shocked him. Kate is getting married ... to this family of assholes? Sure Tanner was handsome and a tiny bit less of an asshole than his family but they are still a snobby and pretentious family of assholes. Does she know what she is getting herself into?

Feeling like he needed some answers, he reluctantly followed Tanner and entered the extravagant limousine. These Sterlings are always happy to flaunt their money everywhere do they?

Once he stepped inside and sat on the leather seats Tanner immediately handed Flynn two envelopes.

"The first one contains an official invitation to the wedding. Keep it well or you will not be able to join us for any ceremonies. The second ones contains some money. Use it to buy a suit worthy of the ceremony. Mother will make a fuss if you are not suited to the standards," explained Tanner.

Flynn to the first letter but then slapped the other envelope to the ground.

"I don't need your money Sterling! So you can take that envelope and shove it up your ass," shouted Flynn angrily.

"Perhaps you are right Flynn. I must admit it though, you O'Malleys are really adorable. Kate is one of the most gorgeous women I ever met and now you... cute like a little chocolate muffin," said Tanner before Flynn jumped onto him, his right fist clenched into a fist and the other hand pinning Tanner by the collar in the leather seat.

"Why don't you go fuck yourself instead Tanner," hissed Flynn.

"I compliment you and you get angry? Quite an individual are you?" Teased Tanner.

"Shut the fuck up!" Yelled Flynn with anger as he pulled Tanner back by the collar and slammed him back on the seat.

"You better learn your place O'Malley!" Said Tanner as he furrowed his brows, clearly annoyed.

"You don't want me to cancel your invitation to the wedding do you? How do you think Kate would feel if one of the persons she treasures the most does not come for the most important day of her life," continued Tanner.

"I will tell her everything!" Said Flynn his anger at its peak. He was ready to blow up at any time.

"But do you think she will listen to you? Sure you might be her brother, but can she really trust you? I mean you threw away 6 years that you could have spent with her over a car. Where were you when she was down? Where were you when she was crying in her corner? WHERE the fuck were you when she was lonely? Do you really think she will trust someone she has not seen or talked to in 6 whole years!" Said Tanner aggressively.

Those words left Flynn completely shook. What If...he was right? What if... Kate doesn't trust him anymore? Why would she even?

From his experience in trades and dealings, Tanner taught himself how to read his clients, how to twist the deal and make it favorable. He could see how Flynn's eyes were shaking, how his grip around his collar softened and how his hand was shaking. It would seem like, all Flynn cared was Kate’s happiness. Mentioning anything that would make him doubt Kate’s trust in him would mess him.

Taking this opportunity, Tanner slid his right arm under Flynn's left one before grabbing his hair from behind.

Then with a small push, Tanner pulled Flynn's face closer.

"Your eyes are just so beautiful, so fascinating," said the blonde man, transfixed by Flynn blue eyes.

"Just...leave me alone Sterling," complained Flynn as he tried to back off from Tanner but was flipped on the seat on the side.

Tanned then mounted into Flynn this time, also pinning his arms usimy his knees.

"Tanner, please...Just leave me alone...I- I'm not in the mood," said Flynn quietly.

From the fidgeting eyes and his defeated time, Tanner knew that he probably went too far earlier.

He might seem cold, but Tanner was also a human. He had some empathy for the others.

"O'Malley? What's wrong? Talk to me," said Tanner in a softer tone.

"Nothing...Just...Just let go of me," said Flynn as he tried to struggle but in vain.

"Is it because of what I said? About Kate?" Asked Tanner but Flynn only ignored him and turned his face to the side.

"Look at me!" Said Tanner as he gently grabbed Flynn's head to the side with his hand and forced him to look at him straight in the eyes.

"You should not worry about anything. Kate still loves you and trusts you. Ever since I've known her she always talked a lot about you to the point that even started getting jealous. I knew you were her brother, but still I wanted her to also talk more about me. She kept holding onto the wish of being able to have fun with you when you are back," said Tanner.

"You are just inventing stuff to make me feel better," said Flynn dejectedly.

"If I am doing so then how do you think I can say with absolute certainty that she still waits for you to comeback and take her through the marina's haunted house," said Tanner.

"Ho-How did you know about this?" Said Flynn, shocked and he had a good reason to.

What Tanner had just said, was a promise that the siblings made to themselves just a few days before Flynn got arrested.

Kate had always been of most supernatural creatures like ghosts or zombies, yes even 6 years ago and Tanner used to tease her about it,. Then one day, to prove to him that she was no longer afraid she got inside but was so afraid of everything she his in such a place inside that not even the staff could find her. Later it was then Flynn who found her crying and he then took her out of it where Flynn promised her that one day Flynn will take her inside with him and they will defeat this haunted house.

"She told me everything about it. You are her hero, she'll always trust you," said Tanner softly.

"Do you...really think so?" Said Flynn as tint bead of water started forming in the corner of his eyes.

"Definitely," said Tanner as he gently kissed Flynn on his forehead.

"Now get yourself back up O'Malley... It's a pity to see you in such a state," said Tanner as he moved over, letting Flynn move himself if he wanted to.

Just then the engine of the car came to a halt a voice could be heard over the speaker.

"Sir, we have reached the residence of Mr. O'Malley," said the chauffeur.

"Looks like it is now time to part our ways," said Tanner.

"But I would like to let you know something. You don't have to bear this burden alone. I'm also here. I'll also take care of Kate, so don't worry. Let's just focus on making Kate happy," continued Tanner.

Following Tanner's words, Flynn felt like his heart was lighter. The fact that he isn't when caring for Kate reassured him. Tanner is also here and together, just like he said, they will ensure Kate is always happy. From this liberation, Flynn couldn't help but let out a smile.

He then just slowly moved in front of Tanner and then hugged him. It is not something he usually does but he couldn't help him.

Tanner brought him back up when he was down. He took care of Kate when he wasn't here. He gave him new strength and even took a load of his self imposed work. All of this culminated into this hug.

"Tanner, thank you. Thank you for everything," said Flynn softly.

"You're welcome," replied the blonde man as he brought Flynn back up.

Flynn then took the invitation envelope but as he got down he was stopped by Tanner.

"Flynn, please. Take the money. If we want this to be the best day possible for Kate, we do not need any necessary drama so please, take it," said Tanner as he handed the other envelope to Flynn again.

"Free money eh? How can someone say no? I'll see you afterwards, Tanner," said Flynn as he accepted the cash envelope, stepped out and closed the door with a smirk.

"Me too," mumbled Tanner with a smile.

#choicescreates65 #choicescreates #flynn o'malley #veil of secrets #vos #tanner sterling #flynnxtanner #flynn/tanner #long reads #long #my fics #long post

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kafkasgods · 3 years

Text

halloween event: faaya & ellis

ellis merchant

Aside from a few “supportive” comments from family members about the couples’ costume he’d chosen with Sam, Ellis had gotten used to his pretty quickly. It helped that he wore more substantial armour than this during his nightly patrols—or maybe his discomfort was melted by how pleased Sam’d looked with it.

Either way, he was having a decent time, and didn’t even feel the usual skin-crawling nervousness he usually did when he spotted Faaya, so he walked over with a wide grin.

“Hey. Look who’s not working.” Leaning against the wall, his beer swinging from his fingers by the bottle's neck, he asked, “Wanna get wasted and loot Jamie’s apartment?” It was a joke, obviously, just to break the ice. Experience told him there was nothing in there that he would ever be tempted to steal.

faaya shah

Between being able to control her powers and the alcohol, the combination had proved itself to Faaya as an elixir of freedom. She hadn’t quite hit drunk yet, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be bothered by anything at all at the moment. And when Ellis appeared, her friend Ellis, Faaya mirrored his smile, beaming brightly at him. “Nope, you’re right. For once, all the consequences are Jamie’s and not mine, so yes, I’d love to raid his shit. It’s only fair. Do you think we might be able to find blackmail?” Faaya snorted, laughing at the idea. As she sipped her drink, she gave Ellis a once-over. “Can I just say you make a good knight? You could put a lot of Medieval Times employees out of a job, Ellis.”

ellis merchant

This seemed to be a very different Faaya from the one who’d protested she couldn’t possibly lose face in front of her employees. He appreciated her enthusiasm, even if it was in the wrong direction. “I assumed you’d say absolutely not. Hate to disappoint you, but I’m pretty sure the only thing worth taking from his apartment is his weed, and that’s probably all on him, or hidden.” Plus, he didn't want to think too hard on the idea of what sort of blackmail material they'd find, if they looked. The less he knew the better, was his new attitude with everything Jamie-related.

He snorted a quiet laugh. “Thanks, but I'll stick with my boring books.” And he wasn’t sure he knew exactly what Medieval Times was. Ready to return the compliment, he opened his mouth, then found he was at a loss. “No idea what you’re dressed as. But you look great, too.” He casually cheers’d her beverage with his own. “Is it a movie reference?”

faaya shah

“We’ll jump him,” Faaya supplied, thinking of the quickest solution to the problem. The product in question wasn’t even something she took into account, but Faaya was all about problem-solution. Naturally, however, the conversation was forgotten as Ellis laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with an educated knight. Maybe a knight’s your origin story and you eventually learn yourself into a wizard or something. I’ll be the mercenary you have to slay.”

The fact that no one got her costume made Faaya give an audible sigh, but it couldn’t be help. She did know that know one would really get it and it was mostly meant as some sort of statement to Phobos (she didn’t know what), but Faaya didn’t think she’d get so bothered having to answer the question over and over. “I’m Phobos,” she answered exasperatedly. “Earlier on I kept up his aura so it might’ve been easier to tell, but people only want scary in a Haunted House, not a house party.” She clicked her tongue. “Damn shame.”

ellis merchant

“Actually, historically speaking, knights were educated fairly well, and expected to learn subjects like poetry and music along with swordplay and any other physical training,” he supplied, despite the information not being specifically requested. “But tonight I’m actually Romeo, dressed as a knight. My girlfriend Sam is Juliet, though Juliet herself had an angel costume in the movie, so I suppose independently both our costumes work differently.” He’d been so caught up in giving the explanation, he hadn’t even had time to feel self-conscious about describing Sam as his girlfriend.

He was mid-sip and narrowly avoided a spit-take when Faaya explained her own costume, though. “You came as your father?” He gazed at her for a moment, then found himself laughing. “I’d never have the guts to dress up as Nyx.” He tilted his head, considering. “Apollo maybe.” Squinting at her, he added with no small amount of admiration in his voice, “You’re not afraid of any repercussions?”

faaya shah

At the new information, Faaya frowned thoughtfully as that was simply how she always took in learning. She didn’t know much about knights since general learning wasn’t the best at camp and she’d frankly never had much of in interest in the topic. Still, she gave Ellis a firm nod. “Tell me again when I’m sober. I don’t think I’ll remember that.” Ellis mentioned his girlfriend and Faaya was oddly impressed. For some reason, she hadn’t imagined the sad sap alone at her bar had one, but here he was dressed as one half of the most romantic pair in history. “That’s cute, Ellis. How long have you two been dating?”

The reaction he gave prompted by her costume made Faaya smile. It was the best reaction by far and made her a little proud of her choice. “Honestly, I think if he knew, he’d laugh about it or bring Deimos to check it out. He likes this kinda shit.” Faaya flattened the skirt of her black dress a little and adjusted the chains that hung on it. “Now, if I did it poorly, then he might try and traumatize me a little.”

ellis merchant

Too late Ellis realized he’d accidentally slipped into library voice—at least she didn’t bluntly tell him off for being boring, like she could have done. He only had to think a moment when she asked about Sam. “Since August…” He screwed up his face trying to think where he was counting from. It all got a little blurry, and so he amended, “Well, sort of. Took us, or… me… a while to make it, uh... official?”

The idea of godly parents just popping by to check out a Halloween costume and have a laugh seemed utterly bizarre to him—but then, he supposed, he was more distant from his grandparents than most. He chuckled, and gave a little shake of his head. “I really don’t want to imagine what a god of fear thinks a reasonable punishment is—” he glanced at her, and realized it was maybe not something to laugh about. “Uh, sorry, if that’s judgy, or something. I dunno anything about him personally, maybe he's a great father.”

faaya shah

Faaya was happy that Ellis was. Relationships were difficult things, but it was clear he was in the honeymoon stage and she hoped he could stay there a long time. “It definitely takes courage to work it out, so that’s impressive none the less. You’re gonna have to point her out to me sometime.” Faaya wouldn’t have assumed to try and meet Sam as she and Ellis were only recent friends.

Ellis laughed at her joke and she was always glad when she could do that for someone. Maybe that was how Bentley felt when he made people desserts. It was a nice feeling and one Faaya could only admit to under the influence of her drink. Her smile faltered slightly when Ellis seemed to take it back, and the apology he offered her made Faaya abruptly laugh out loud. It took a few seconds before she calmed down and wipe her eyes. “Oh fuck no, he’s the worst. But at the same time, I’ve known him nearly my whole life. I wouldn’t be the same person if I didn’t. So yeah, he’s terrible, but I’m, you know, used to him. I like it. What’s Nyx like? Or Apollo?” She asked conversationally.

ellis merchant

ellis cleared his throat purposelessly. he'd never been complimented on his ability to maintain a relationship, because... he'd simply never managed it before. “she works at queen hera’s, so if you’ve stopped in for coffee, you might’ve met her already,” he offered awkwardly.

the topic turned back to the gods, and he adjusted the edge of his costume where the armour was digging into his shoulder. “uh, they’ve always been sorta… distant. i’ve only met apollo a couple times. he mostly drops in to see how my dad’s doing, and they seem close.” he left off mentioning the messages that got passed on to him on his birthday, because it felt childish and made him squirm.

his grandmother, though... ellis sipped his beer, recalling. “i’ve only met nyx once, a few months ago. took a lot of work to get her attention, which… i would’ve been surprised if she’d responded at all, but she brought me to meet her in person.” a shiver ran down his spine. “she’s very, uh. otherworldly? she doesn’t try to hide what she is. possibly the most terrifying moment of my life.” he remembered waking up afterwards next to the altar where he’d performed the ritual, and then shortly after, eddie stumbling over him as he was still recovering.

#faaya:ellis #faaya shah #ellis merchant

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sserpente · 7 years

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A/N: Request from anon. Two in one. Have fun! ;-)

Words: 1998 Warnings: violence and smut

“C’mon, pumpkin, don’t fall back!“ Harley purred with a cheeky smile as she looked back over her shoulder. You rolled your eyes defiantly. There was a reason you were falling back, for ever since you had involuntarily joined the infamous Suicide Squad, the whole team was treating you like a child. Maybe you were the youngest of them all but that didn’t mean you were less experienced. You’d survived bombs, a war and the worst prison in America and you hadn’t lost your mind yet. Well… yet. It would happen soon if they kept treating you like a spoiled teenager.

“Don’t call me pumpkin…” You growled to yourself quietly, your steel grip around your weapon of choice tightening as you did and the corners of your mouth twitching and forming a reluctant smile. The only thing keeping you from lashing out was Harley Quinn herself. Ironic, wasn’t it? A mad woman killing like a bounty hunter who regularly managed to get under your skin with her ridiculous nicknames for you… was the one person that stopped you from fleeing and stepping away from this bunch of madmen.

You had laid your eyes on her ever since you had first joined the Squad. She was beautiful—her blue eyes, her crazy make-up, her blonde hair and that gorgeous body of hers… only once, you had caught a glimpse of her underwear: red and seductive, complimenting her curves and her full breasts…

Shaking your head, you bit your lower lip. No. You mustn’t feel this way about her, you couldn’t! She was the Joker’s girlfriend, for Fuck’s sake! If he found out you were fancying his girl, he would kill you with a snap of his fingers! Still, however, you couldn’t help your feelings. Harley was wonderful. A bit crazy, maybe but then again… weren’t you all? Jesus, you didn’t even know if she was into girls as well, apart from that she acted as if you were her child!

So were you? A child? No, certainly not. It was time to finally do something and prove them all you were more than just a silly teenager. It was time you showed recklessness. You just hoped you wouldn’t get yourself killed in the process.

She was looking at you. She was actually looking at you, watching you with admiration sparkling in her pretty blue eyes! Harley pouted in an acknowledging manner when you flung your daggers through the air, attacking creature after creature instead of staying in the background like you usually would.

Before, you had had no reason to risk your life for the good of the country. Who were you to do that, after all? If you died, nobody would cry for you, no one would mourn and certainly nobody would thank you for what you had done to save the world. Amanda Waller had proven that when Chato sacrificed himself to save you all.

The reason you were putting your heart and soul into this fight was, solely, Harley. To impress her, to make sure she finally noticed you. And today, so it seemed, she finally did. You resisted the urge to wink as you killed off another enemy and then jumped on top of a battered car to pull out your gun. Similar to Harleys, it was individually decorated and handy. You pulled the trigger just in time, aiming for a creature’s head attempting to attack your crush from behind. When you jumped down again, doing a flip just for the fun of it, you landed right on another one, twisting off its head with a cruel expression on your face. Oh yes. You’d been kept in prison for a reason. You were dangerous and today, your colleagues should finally see that too. Today, Harley should see that too.

It took thirty more minutes to eliminate all attackers. Panting and out of breath, the whole Squad, including you, sank to the ground and leaned against debris or destroyed cars to calm their nerves.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, did yah take some anabolic drugs before this fight, (Y/N)?” Boomerang sneered, grinning wildly as he collected one of his precious metal weapons and tugged them back safely on the inside of his leather coat.

Shrugging, you lifted your chain, your gaze inconspicuously wandering over to Harley, who was sitting right opposite you. She was staring at you in awe, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. Her eyes were glistening with… what was it? A promise? Desire? You couldn’t quite tell but if it was what you hoped it was, then risking your life today had actually been worth it. Now waiting patiently was the only thing you could do.

“We should go and find a safe place to crash. I don’t know about you guys but I need a break.” Deadshot declared, getting up again to look around. Gotham was a mess right now, there was no way in hell he would find a “safe place”. Still, none of you argued with him. Keeping close to Harley, you followed him to an old and abandoned building—several floors of offices, empty and cold. Well, it was as good as it would get. You would all need the sleeping bags you had packed in case of a scenario like this one. So much for being a stupid teenager. They would all be lying on the cold ground tonight if you hadn’t used your brain.

“You brought sleeping bags?” Flag asked hopefully. You nodded.

The only problem was that you had only four of them. For Killer Croc it was no big deal. He would sleep in a puddle if need be, that was the advantage that came with being a crocodile-like… whatever he was.

Then, surely, Deadshot and Flag would take one for themselves. Boomerang was a filthy thief, he wouldn’t relinquish either and—

“We’re both small enough, we’ll fit in one, pumpkin,” Harley suddenly chirped, shrugging her shoulders as if arguing about who would get a sleeping bag was utterly redundant. Well, maybe it was, for your heart skipped a beat upon hearing her words.

Being this close to Harley for the whole night… it was going to be a much bigger challenge than sharing a sleeping bag. How would you possibly keep your hands to yourself? Not that you wanted to. But if you scared her away or made her angry, things wouldn’t exactly end well for you either. Luckily, she’d been the one to suggest sharing.

“Alright then, spread. And good night,” Much to everyone’s surprise, this time the Squad obliged to Flag’s order. Armed with their sleeping bags, they made themselves comfortable all over the office, hidden under desks and behind broken photocopiers. There was so much space, with the lights out, no one was able to see one another and within mere moments, you could hear the first people snoring. Boomerang, probably. He was most likely using his unicorn plush toy as a pillow.

“C’mon, pumpkin, let’s get comfortable,” Harleys voice was so close to your ear that you could feel her hot breath in your neck. A shiver ran up and down your spine as you nodded into the dark and let her take your hand to guide you over to the place she had chosen to sleep in. It was perfect. Close to a window to enable a quick escape and shielded from everyone else’s unwanted gaze. Damn it. Again, you bit your lower lip. You were not going to chicken out now, were you?

Harley grinned as you crawled into the sleeping bag.

“Let’s stay warm, shall we, pumpkin?” She joined you only seconds later, her petite arms snaking around your waist to pull you closer when she did. Instantly, you turned around, hoping to face her but it was too dark for that. The only thing confirming you your face was right before hers, was her cool breath blowing on your moist lips. By now, your heart was pounding like a steam hammer.

“You were quite brave today,” she murmured quietly. Her hand trailed down to your hips, one of her legs wrapping around yours. “I always knew you had it in you.”

“Brave? Harley… I just… I didn’t want to be so reckless, I do value my life.” You whispered equally quiet. “You guys treated me like a child and I was sick of it. Maybe I just wanted you to notice me…” You admitted timidly, your eyes darting around in the dark. There. You’d said it. This was the only way to do it, after all, right? If she wasn’t into you as much as you were into her, this was the most secure way to not get killed by her crazy boyfriend.

“Shhhh, I know…” She soothed, stroking your hips as she did until you gasped. Wait, what? She knew? Harley giggled. “I used to be a psychiatrist, you know. I recognised the looks you kept giving me when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

You were about to protest when suddenly, her soft lips were on yours. She was kissing you gently, her hands sliding under your shirt to caress your skin. Harley’s tongue pushed into your mouth dominantly, not leaving you the chance to pull back and stop this. Oh, but she knew you wouldn’t want to. Instead, you were eager to kiss her back and arched your back to grant her more access when her hand started trailing downwards to disappear in your pants. Quickly, she fought the panties blocking her way, the fraction of a second later already, she was teasing your folds.

A soft moan escaped your lips when you felt her cool fingers touching you there.

“Quiet, pumpkin, we don’t want the others knowing what we’re doing here, now do we?” She said as she pulled away from your lips. You could tell she was grinning into the dark when you bit your lower lip to prevent another moan echoing through the office. Harley was giving you a hard time. Gently, she parted your folds to gain access to your slit, ascertaining with pride that you were wet already. She chuckled quietly before collecting some of your slick arousal on her fingers to spread it all over your clit and then proceeded to stroke your nub in a circular motion, massaging you until you were sure to see stars.

Was this real? Were you dreaming? Harley and you, cuddling in a sleeping bag on the fucking ground, with her secretly pleasuring you?

Your orgasm was building quickly. Knowing that it was Harley that brought you to the edge of this bliss was so overwhelming, you almost lost your mind in that tight sleeping bag. Growing even wetter, you tensed, your fingers searching for something to dig into in vain. Harley chuckled again when she noticed your fight against your loss of composure, stroking your sensitive bundle of nerves even faster until you were but a writhing mess beside her. She made sure to push two fingers inside you then, pumping them in and out over and over again and teasing your g spot relentlessly. It was like she knew exactly what would bring you the most pleasure.

“Harley…” Her name spilled from your lips like a prayer, like she was the only one that could save you. She was, in a way. If she pulled away now, you would scream.

“Are you going to cum?” She asked, smirking for sure. You only managed to nod, almost choking on your breathless yes as you climaxed, shaking violently next to her body. You bit your lower lip so hard you could taste blood as your orgasm washed over you, wave after wave of pleasure robbing all of your senses.

Harley made sure to help you ride out your high before she pulled away, giggling sneakily in the process.

“You make such cute noises when you cum,” she taunted. “I can’t wait to hear them again. This is going to be a long night, pumpkin.”

#harley quinn #harley quinn imagine #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x you #suicide squad #suicide squad imagine #suicide squad smut #harley quinn smut #margot robbie #dc #dc imagine

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