#he’s so fucking tired and angry and bitter and REALLY wants to murder someone
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I like the idea of Corvo executing not physical but psychological torture on his targets
Like for example in Flooded District when Corvo escapes he doesn’t make himself known right away, it’s as if he really vanished. No one suspects anything (mostly expecting him still being around Flooded District ready to reach Daud as expected).
It’s tense, yes, but no one is murdered, choked out or disappeared.
Corvo is a master of observation and blending in. Corvo observes, listens, and changes his mask and behavior. Corvo played a perfect whaler. Corvo blended in with them perfectly, he wormed his way into their circle.
In span of a day Corvo played a perfect whaler, uncovering himself when they all least expected it, and while he’s not aggressive or violent, just standing here peacefully, almost relaxed, with absolutely tired face, they feel he’s dangerous. One wrong word or move and he’ll murder without second thoughts.
So all Corvo does is nicely asks for a key to get out of Flooded District, and pretty much for them to disappear from face of Dunwall, because next time to catches at least one of them at periphery of his eyes he’s personally hunting every single of them.
Corvo doesn’t want more bloodshed for this city his Empress loved, he doesn’t want it to be consumed by plague any more as it is, but he’s just a human, he’s tired, he’s so, so tired and angry and it takes all his willpower to stare in eyes of a murderer and not to become one himself.
Corvo takes the key from Daud’s hand, sends him one last tired warning stare and leaves to save his daughter and a crumbling empire. Corvo’s hands are completely clean unlike Daud’s, and it takes everything not to paint his into same red.
But that doesn’t mean he can’t torture people with their own minds.
#dishonored#corvo attano#daud#whalers#my headcanon for low chaos Corvo is that#he’s so fucking tired and angry and bitter and REALLY wants to murder someone#but he’s still tired and sees the city dying and knows that drowning it in blood isn’t smth Jessamine would’ve wanted#man literally struggles keeping his murdering thoughts in check#it’s like high chaos Corvo mindset in low chaos play style one#let’s be real Corvo ain’t completely sane after what happened that day#losing his love forever his daughter was kidnapped and god knows where and he spend unforgettable 6 months in prison being tortured#corvo doesn’t want or believes in Daud’s excuses and yada yada he wants a fucking key and not to see them ever#/then Daud somehow becomes spymaster and it takes all corvo’s willpower not to strangle him on sight#don’t worry just unhinged Corvo probably having an episode where he attacks Daud because he’s tired of keeping himself in check#and Daud duels him until Corvo just drops tired and barely conscious from adrenaline and mana drain
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If nobody asked for him yet, Izuna for the ask prompt because I can’t get enough of him. And I’m going to throw a new one at you (only if you want to!) : Naori
Thx for the ask <3 and sorry for taking so long to answer😅 life kept happening or I kept forgetting.
I'll answer both. It's gonna be long so I'll put it under a cut and apologies in advance lol
Izuna
First impression
Didn't really have much of an impression of him watching the series I won't lie. I guess I thought he looked like Sasuke but NO WHY ARE YOU STANDING IN THE WAY OF PEACE?! Did think he would have had a lot of potential if they actually bothered to give him a shred of personality tho. And aside from wanting so so so much more about him and Madara, I also low key really wanted to see more of him and Tobirama because come on! The chemistry was there and they were obviously presented as parallels and foils of each other. I wanted more violence and I wanted it to be personal. Also them interacting as kids was kind of really cute (the way they knew each other's name) but also really heartbreaking seeing how fckn big those swords looked
Impression now
He was right about everything. But if ppl think Tobirama was bad Izuna would have been worse. On purpose.
He is just SKSJJSJSZB!! Best, most interesting, fun and heartbreaking and compelling and perfect character!! The layers, the grief, his importance!!
I won't lie his character is almost entirely made by the fandom and I don't even agree with or like the vast majority of the interpretations, but God I would kill everyone in this room then myself if I don't see him happy or in pain or perfectly collected and impartial but murderous and covered in blood and so fucked up beyond belief but still holding everything and everyone together despite the way every loss and failure kills him over and over again until he's lost all sense of himself outside of his duty and the people he failed. JDJDHXHXXXHXH HIMMMM!! Just imagine the moment any shred of child like hope he used to have was completely shattered and he became entirely nihilistic, angry and bitter, but also leaving him craving the peace he knows is impossible.
Also he so has eldest daughter, middle child energy
Favourite moment
It was pretty funny when he punched Tobirama in the face ngl
Also the way he reacted to another kid possibly being stronger than his big brother!😱 Djjdhd I can't breathe!! His little face!! He deserves everything good in the world
Idea for a story
Oh boi oh boi do you just want a never ending list of all my wips?
Literally endless endless possibilities so idk which to pick, where to start or how I'd ever stop talking lol
Literally anything and everything from back story and character analysis fics, to crack, to dark smut and graphic violence, to wholesome bittersweet found family. And that's not even touching the endless possibilities AUs would open up!!!
Unpopular opinion
As needed and honestly refreshing as the 'canon accurate' take on his personality is, I don't really think I like it all that better. It's honestly kind of boring and it reduces him to a narrative plot or some vague object in someone else's story that can be placed to the side and completely forgotten about or ignored. I find it takes everything that's significant and interesting about him then sucks everything else that would give him a fully fledged and compelling personality right out of it. I'm as tired as the next person by a lot of fandom interpretations but he doesn't need to be reduced to the human equivalent of a perfectly square, perfectly blank piece of paper. His role, importance, actions and convictions within the narrative aren't remotely changed if he's allowed to have layers of messy, gritty complexity. They'd become more fleshed out if anything. Let my man have a messy personality, please! I need something to sink my teeth into and tear apart like a chew toy!
Favourite relationship
It's literally impossible to pick just one so here are the ones I cycle through as the mood takes me.
MADARAAAA, I would actually kill for more gen uchiha siblings content! They're just- yh I don't even need to explain!
But also in that same vein HIKAKU!!!! Only child Hikaku adopting Izuna as his little brother after all his cousins are killed. Them working better together and having more in common with each other than with Madara a lot of the time (despite Madara initially being the glue that brought them together). Then the grief and blame after Izuna dies and jdndndndb!!!!
Similarly but on a different note NAORI!!!!!!! Platonic soulmates all the fckn way! Just them being best friends since childhood (probably the only stable and healthy relationship, that is only a touch codependent, that Izuna has ever had). Also I love the idea of the wlw mlm solidarity of having kids together because madara refused to procreate. And don't let me get into how Izuna's death affects her!
But also TOBIRAMA ALL DAY EVERY FCKN DAY!! They’re so perfect, the way they respect and hate one another for everything they represent and how much of themselves they see in the other, and the violent possessiveness born of it. But also the way they would fit and work together so well, how they see the possible friendship in the other and it only makes them more adamant about wanting the other dead. But also soft healthy friendship that's fun and bittersweet, especially as kids, and hdhdbxbx- No more needs to be said really
Favourite headcanon
God there r so many! But I love the thought of him having a younger sister who's somewhere between tobirama, itama and izuna in personality. And he got his sharingan after seeing her die at the hands of bloodline thieves, which he never stops blaming himself for. It massively shapes his unhealthy and somewhat obsessive need to keep everyone and everything together and safe. Not to mention the way he takes failure so personally.
(Thank you sm for asking for her btw!)
Naori
First impression
Her plotline was weird as hell tho, and it would have been cooler if she was around during the founders era
Really liked her right off the bat! Thought she had a cool design, amd loved her personality and the mediator role she played. Also loved the way she seems genuinely powerful and well respected, and how put together and kind but stern she was. True infj lol
Impression now
Same impression really, + my own ideas and backstory sprinkled in. For example, she's a lot more cynical than she present herself. I love the idea of her growing bitter after Izuna's death but coming out the other side better than say Hikaku because she still had people she needed to remain tender for.
Favourite moment
Idk the way she was introduced was pretty cool. Girl boss play ur mind games!
Idea for a story
I'd love to write anything after Izuna's death and the founding of Konoha.
Also I have zero fckn clue what her backstory was even about so I wanna rework that. I'm thinking a small group of Uchiha growing paranoid as Madara did and trying to assasinate Tobirama. Having accepted the reality they were now stuck in she makes it her mission to keep everything running smoothly and do damage control where necessary. (All for the benefit of the clan tho. She never actually accepts the will of fire and she would be the first to be able to say 'I told you so' when war breaks out again). So anyway, Tobirama agrees to let her peacefully deal with them as a 'show of trust' to any other Uchiha who might follow, but it still makes him weary of them as a whole regardless.
Unpopular opinion
Not a fan of her being written in to be shipped with whatever male character just so they can have a straight love interest. I want her to have motivations, a story, and complex thoughts and feelings outside that. That's how she was introduced in the first place! But idk if that's actually unpopular lol
Favourite relationship
Of course Izuna! Aside from what I mentioned in his bit I also like to think that they shared the same views about how the clan should be run, and especially about peace (as a whole vs peace with the Senju). And alongside being a genjutsu master and being well respected on the battlefield, I like to think that she had an affinity for healing, and she woke her Mangekyou after Izuna died because she felt responsible for not being able to save him.
But also Hikaku!!! After Madara leaves she's the only person Hikaku still has around, and despite both being two of Izuna's closest people, they only really get close after that. After he officially takes over as clan head she essentially also steps into the role Izuna had as Madara's 'right hand'. Which basically means that for all intents and purposes they lead the clan together.
Favourite headcanon
Tobirama came to her about the police force and despite hating his guts for killing Izuna they worked together. She founded the police force with her wife and had a hand in the way the anbu was initially structured. Tobirama first went to her out of guilt (and because Hikaku was more outwardly hostile lol), but over the years she became someone he deeply respected and who's advice he sought out. And despite never fully forgiving him the respect was mutual.
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Whispers
Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 5k | Idol AU
Summary: Donghyuck has been busy promoting his new album and no matter how much he misses you, he can’t see you in person due to his schedules. Desperate for your touch, he begins to call you late at night.
Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation (male and female), dirty talk (but is it still called ‘dirty talk’ if Donghyuck is just being honest and saying whatever that comes to his mind?), no plot with a lot of dialogues
The vibration of your iPhone wakes you up from your dream. Being thrown back so suddenly to reality makes you feel slightly lightheaded but it’s all worth it the second you see his name written on your screen. Rubbing your eyes away from sleep, you answer his call, “Hyuck?”
“Hey, Noona.” The airiness of his honeyed voice sounds familiar and pleasant in your ears that it instantly paints a smile on your face. “Did I wake you?”
You refrain yourself from yawning. “Yeah, I fell asleep reading.” Narrowing your eyes irritatedly at the brightness of the fluorescent light hanging on your ceiling, you decide to switch it off and uses the dim glow of the bedside lamp instead.
“What time is it?” He gasps when he notices the time on his screen. “Three AM?! Shit, I didn’t realize it was this late. Sorry.”
“It’s fine, I shouldn’t be sleeping anyway. I still have to work on my papers, so it’s actually good that you woke me up.” You nuzzle close to the pillow, holding your phone to your ear with one hand, blinking sleepily. “Did you just get back from schedule?”
“Yeah.” He sighs wearily. “I’m dead tired right now. I wish I could just take a day off, you know? I mean, performing is fun, but promoting a new album can be so hectic. I’ve only been sleeping for, like, two hours per day since last week.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” You bring the teddy bear he’d given you on your birthday close to your chest, pretending like you were embracing him. “I wish you could take some days off, too.”
“Yeah?” Somehow, he sounds like he’s smiling. “Then do what?”
“I don’t know, play games, I guess? Or just lie around in bed, doing nothing.”
“I’d rather be doing something, actually.” He chuckles softly, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Or someone.”
“Gross,” you retort but you can feel your lips curving upwards. “It’s okay if you want to rest, Hyuck. You don’t have to force yourself to call me every day. Your health should be your number one priority.”
“What, you don’t want me to call you?”
You freeze. “Of course I want you to call me. I just—”
“I thought you’d be excited to hear my voice.”
The sudden bitterness in his tone makes you sit up from the bed, eyebrows adjoined in confusion. “What—Hyuck—”
“You know what?” He exhales loudly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have called. It’s late anyway.“
“Can you please just listen—”
“I’m tired. Let’s just talk tomorrow.”
“But—”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Hyuck—” But you’re only answered by silence when the line gets disconnected. You stare at your phone, eyes wide in disbelief.
What the hell just happened?
Upset and vexed, you dial his number. You wait with your jaw clenched until he picks up on the fourth ring. “Can’t you listen to me for one second?!” Not sure if it’s because of the drowsiness or exhaustion, but you find yourself shouting even before he says anything. “Of course, I want you to call me, you idiot! It’s the only thing I’ve been waiting all day. Every day, Hyuck, I wait for your call every day. I keep catching myself checking on my phone every ten minutes, waiting for your texts, wanting to call you. I miss you, of course, I miss you—you’re—” You turn stiff when you hear him cackling from the other side of the phone. “Are you laughing?”
“I’m sorry.” His laughter is contagious but you put up your best effort not to get infected. “You’re so cute when you get all riled up. Isn’t it obvious that I was just joking?”
“Right. I’m hanging up.”
“Wait, Noona—” You listen to him with your eyes throwing ice daggers to the wall. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.” There’s a small pause where you’re too irritated to talk and he’s too unsure to start but he tries. “So, like… you miss me?”
“Not right now.”
“Aaw, come on, I was just messing around.” You can imagine him puckering his lips, batting his eyelashes for forgiveness. “Please, tell me. Tell me how much you miss me.”
You throw yourself back to the bed, huffing. “I don’t think I want to.”
“You get cuter when you’re angry, you know that?” He sighs to the air. “Aaah… I miss you. I miss you so much, Noona, you don’t even know. Probably more than you miss me.”
I don’t think that’s possible. “Of course,” you reply, holding back a smile from breaking on your face. “Since I only miss you a little bit.”
“A little bit?”
“A tiny, tiny bit. On second thought, maybe I don’t miss you at all.”
“Is that so?” You can tell he’s exhausted by the way he lets out his chuckle, but it doesn’t mean it’s less sincere. “It really has been a while since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?”
You nod to yourself. “Four months.”
“You keep count, huh?” His teasing tone makes you flushed. “Love me that much, do you?”
“Around four months,” you correct him, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible when the truth is, you can practically hear your heart hammering against your ribcages. “Or maybe three? Five? I don’t know.”
“Why are you so cute? Seriously, how can you be this cute?” Donghyuck sits on the edge of his bed, lips forming so widely that it nearly splits his face in half. When his chuckles have receded, his eyes begin to soften. “I love you, Noona. You know that, right?”
People might be thinking about how lucky you are to have a member of one of the most prestigious boybands in the world confessing his love for you at 3 AM, but honestly? You’re just so grateful for the fact that Lee Donghyuck, a boy who stole your heart nearly a decade ago when you were too young to even understand the word love, finally realized that your entire relationship with him was deeper than a mere friendship. It took years for both of you to finally gain enough bravery to act out your feelings, especially when he managed to shine brighter than you could ever imagine being. You were afraid of it—afraid that you would be burnt by his fame, afraid that he would discard you for he had everything and you only had him. But Donghyuck didn’t want anything. He only wanted you.
You love him. You’ve been loving him for as long as you can remember so hearing him say the words, no matter how often he has mentioned it already, still sparks fire through your veins. You’ll never admit that out loud, though.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot these days,” he sheepishly adds.
“More than you think about yourself?” You snort. “I’m shocked.”
“Eeyyy, I’m serious.” The sound of your giggle makes him sigh, longing to hear it in person. “I wish I could be with you right now. I thought about you a lot during today’s photoshoot too.” He lies down on the bed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought about our last date. About that red dress you wore. Man, you looked so cute in that dress.”
You half-buried your face in the pillow, heat blossoming on your cheeks. “Now this is the topic I like to talk about.”
Donghyuck scrunches up his nose. “Aren’t you gonna say I looked nice too that day?”
Even the slightest thought of him—any version of him, whether it was him dressing handsomely on a date or him waking up in the morning with a bird’s nest on his head—never fails to send butterflies swirling in your stomach, but again, you’ll never admit that out loud. “Meh,” you jeer, even adding a shrug when you know he won’t be able to see. “Could’ve dressed better. I mean, ripped jeans? Really?”
“Yah, yah, yah. You said I looked good wearing those jeans!”
“We were going to a fancy restaurant and I wore a semi-formal dress, Hyuck. They just didn’t match my outfit. They didn’t match anyone’s outfit there, really.”
“Really? You’re gonna say that? Even after you spent the whole night stealing glances at me with drool on your face?”
You wish you could say he was lying, but you indeed spent the entire night drooling at him over the sight of his black leather jacket and the way his jeans just wrapped his thighs so perfectly. “I have lost interest in this topic.” It’s for the best before you combust into flames. “Where are you right now?”
“Back at the dorm.” He softly yawns. “In my room.”
“Alone?”
“Yep, since Johnny-hyung is filming out of town.” When you stay quiet, unsure of what to say, Donghyuck grins mischievously. “Why, do you wanna sneak in? I think I can afford to lose some sleep tonight, if you know what I mean.”
Flustered, you retort, “After Johnny caught us cuddling last time? No way.”
“Yeah, about that,” Donghyuck says a little awkwardly, “After you went home he said to me that he heard the whole thing—”
“What do you mean the whole thing?” The horror in your face and your voice is clear.
“I meant, the whole thing. Us having sex and stuff.”
You could practically feel the exact moment when your soul is leaving your body, but Donghyuck continues as if he’s simply talking about getting caught cheating during a test. “But it’s okay, he’s cool. He’s got my back.”
“Oh my God.” You nearly faint. “I will never show my face in front of your roommate, ever again.”
“Yeah, about that—“
“Are you fucking kidding me, Hyuck—”
“Jaehyun-hyung heard us too.”
“What?!”
“And he told Mark-hyung about it later on, and that’s the reason why I had this bump on my head for three days.” Donghyuck pouts, rubbing the back of his head, lean fingers carding through soft brown locks. “He hit me with a book, lecturing me about bringing you to the dorm as if he never did that himself.”
Not trying to overreact about it, but you’re suffocating by this point. “Why are you so chill about this?!”
“They heard us having sex, not murdering the innocents.” He rolls his eyes but seems amused at your reaction. “To be honest, I hear a lot of stuff happening in our dorm that I’m sure you don’t wanna know. Like, a lot a lot. Way worse than what I did with you.”
“And does Taeyong know about this?”
“Taeyong-hyung needs his beauty sleep so we agreed not to tell him stuff.”
“I feel sorry for him.”
“I just feel sorry he’s not part of our antics.” Donghyuck shrugs, kicking off his shoes and socks before he leans against the headboard. “How about you? Are you alone?”
“Yeah.” You heavily sigh, still feeling quite dizzy after hearing the truth he just blurted out. “My roommate’s gone for the weekend.”
“Oh…” He taps his fingers against his stomach, a weird feeling swirling inside his chest as a thought begins to form. “That’s… great…”
Donghyuck’s tongue lays heavy in his mouth, suddenly loses the ability to form a simple conversation as his mind begins to focus entirely on something else. It all started that one night when he pretended to be asleep, when in fact, he was listening to his roommate, Johnny, speaking to his girlfriend in hushed whispers. The way the older man was chuckling to his phone was suspicious, and the more he tried to listen intently, the more he realized that Johnny wasn’t conversing. He was giving orders with a voice thick with seduction. The sensual words Johnny used made Donghyuck’s ears turn scarlet, and he buried his face deeper behind his blanket. Since then, the curiosity within him has been rising more and more, nearly suffocating him sometimes when he desperately yearned for your touch but his schedule never let him take a goddamn break.
Not knowing the dirty thoughts that flit across his mind, you carry on your conversation like usual. “I guess, but it does get lonely sometimes when she’s not around. I actually like having a roommate.” The sandalwood aroma from your diffuser, combined with his velvety voice, comforts you and you’re finally able to relax. “Have you been eating well? I’ve been craving for strawberry—”
“What are you wearing?”
“—pancakes—what?”
“I…” Donghyuck heaves out a heavy breath, biting the corner of his lip, unsure yet not ready to give up on his desire. “I just… I was wondering—Are you wearing pajamas?”
“Umm…” The way he asks about it sends heat rising to your cheeks. He doesn’t sound as innocent as the words he uses. You look down, fingers curling at the hemline of your clothes. “I’m wearing one of your shirts, actually.”
Donghyuck throws his head back, eyes tightly shut as he curses silently into the air, his phone pressed against his chest. The sight of you wearing his oversized shirt has been one of his most recurring fantasies and not being able to see you, but knowing that you are wearing his shirt, kills him.
“Hyuck?”
Donghyuck brings his phone back to his ear. “Sorry, there was a… Mark.” He mentally slaps himself on the head.
“There was a Mark?”
“I mean, Mark-hyung was here—but he just left so—"
“Are you drunk again?”
“No!” Donghyuck rubs his temple. This is not going well, he shouts in his mind. “Why—” He winces when he hears his voice crack. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”
Because it smells like you and it helps me sleep better. “Just because,” you quietly mumble, eyes locked to the ceiling. “Why are you asking me this exactly?”
“Just because,” he mimics. His breathing sounds more prominent as if he’s in the same room, only a few inches away from your ear. It’s the reason why you enjoy talking to him this way instead of taking video calls. You can focus solely on his honeyed voice, almost like a lullaby to your ears. “Can you tell me…” he continues, laced with both hesitation and anticipation, “What else you're wearing?”
“Umm…” You take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself composed. “I don’t think I want to say.”
“Please, Noona.” The sudden desperation in his plead startles you as if he’s losing control of himself, little by little. He seems to notice that too because when he speaks again, it’s steadier, almost formal. “I just… I want to know. If that’s okay.”
“Well…” You curl your toes. “Aside from your shirt, I’m…” Just say it, for God’s sake. He’s your boyfriend. He’s seen you naked. “I’m only wearing my panties.”
There’s a pause that makes your heart thump. “Not, uhh…” Donghyuck wets his lip. “Not even a bra?”
You fiddle with your fingers. “N-no.”
“Fuck.”
You nearly drop your phone. The guttural groan he just emitted from the back of his throat catches you off guard. “Hyuck..?”
“Noona, there’s—” Donghyuck sits up straight, nails nearly sinking to his jean-clad thigh. “There’s something I want to try.” There’s a sense of urgency mixed with minimum self-control. “I-if you don’t mind…”
You know where this is going. “What is it?”
“Just—Just follow my lead, okay?”
You shakily nod your head. When he calls out your name again, you remember that you have to say it in words. “Okay.”
“Can you…” Donghyuck’s heart is beating out of control. His mind desperately tries to answer how the fuck do I start this?! “Can you, umm, lie down on the bed for me?”
You can tell he’s nervous and it’s both reassuring and endearing to know that he’s never done this with anyone else before and probably not mentally ready to do it with you, but tries to go all the way because he knows both of you need to find a way to release all of these pent-up emotions.
You follow his order. “I’m…” You take a deep breath so your voice won’t tremble too much. “I’m lying on my bed.”
Donghyuck always takes a few seconds before answering, as if he’s battling inside his head as he tries to sort out his thoughts. “Is your light turned on?”
“Yes.”
“Turn it off.”
You switch off the button on your bedside lamp. “Okay, it’s off.”
“Okay, mine too.” Then all you can hear is his slightly ragged breathing. “It’s… a bit awkward, isn’t it?” He chuckles nervously, followed by an inaudible, “Fuck, why am I so nervous,” as he’s straying away from the phone.
A smile paints your lips. “You’re adorable.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
When silence strikes, Donghyuck scratches his cheek. “Do you… want to know what I’m wearing?”
You gulp. “S-sure.”
“Well…” Donghyuck takes a look at himself. “I’m wearing a denim jacket, a white shirt, a pair of jeans—I just got back from a photoshoot so—”
So he must look good. “Take them off.”
He’s probably as startled as you are when you hear the words tumbling down your mouth. But even if he is as embarrassed as you are, he doesn’t make it as obvious. “Sure.” A rustling sound can be heard, and you let your imagination wander. You can tell he’s taking off his jacket and soon, his shirt will follow. Donghyuck would always take his shirt off by grabbing the fabric from the back and yank it over his head, instead of crossing his arms at his waist. There’s something masculine about it, but you tend to get more distracted at the way his muscles would contract in his lean stomach. His silver necklace would dangle around his neck, and he’d smirk whenever he caught you staring at him for a second too long.
“My shirt’s off,” he quietly states, snapping you out of your reverie. “Now take yours off—wait! Wait. Leave it on. I want to imagine you wearing my shirt. Just take off your panties.”
“I’m—” It’s so damn hard to focus when you feel so ashamed just by hearing his instructions. “Okay…” Your fingers are quivering when they slide down your stomach, thumb hooking around the hem before you pull your lingerie down to the middle of your thighs.
“Lie down,” he whispers, “Prop a pillow behind your back. Are you comfortable?”
“Y-yeah, just…” You sigh, head going dizzy. “Embarrassed.”
The airy laughter that flows from his mouth is too innocent to be heard in this kind of situation. “So cute. Me too, actually. I’ve never done this before.” When his chuckles have receded, the nervousness grows vivid in his voice once again. “Do you, umm... Do you want to stop?”
You’re supposed to say yes, or at least a bit conflicted about it, so it shocks you when you immediately answer, “No,” without hesitation.
“Thank God.” Donghyuck sighs, smiling softly against the phone. “‘Cause I wouldn’t know what to do if you said yes.” He unbuckles his belt with one hand, taking it off as his heartbeat soars through the roof. “Then, umm… can you spread your legs? As wide as you can.”
You feel so exposed even when no one is looking. Following his guidance, you question, “What about you? What are you doing?”
“I’m…” Donghyuck swallows hard, looking down at the way his hand is pressing against his semi-hardness. “I’m rubbing myself over my pants.”
Fuck, you mentally groan. “Why aren’t you touching yourself directly?”
“Cause I want to wait for you.” He has his eyes closed, hand slipping under the hemline of his jeans, stroking himself over his boxer. “I want to picture you rubbing your fingers on your clit. I want to hear you moan my name when you do.”
Oh my God. “Then guide me,” you plead. There’s something so irresistibly sexy about him touching himself while picturing you pleasuring yourself with your fingers. “Tell me what to do, Hyuck.”
He runs his tongue over his lower lip. The excitement of being able to act as a puppeteer, tugging on your strings, sends all blood rushing south. “Can you push your shirt up? Don’t take it off, just—” He exhales, taking a moment to collect himself after a certain obscene thought of you touching yourself entered his mind. “Just make sure it’s not in the way.”
“Okay.” You grip the hemline of your shirt, pulling it up until it pools above your chest. “Now, what?”
“I want you to touch your breasts.” You’re more aroused by his breathy voice and lustful tone than embarrassed at this point. “Imagine me, Noona,” Donghyuck whispers, and he sounds so close, as if he’s lying down next to you. “Imagine me with my hands on you, caressing your breasts. Can you do that?”
You squeeze your breast, mumbling out a weak, “Yes…” The memory of Donghyuck, embracing you from behind, his naked chest pressed against your spine, hot mouth lazily pressing wet kisses against your nape suddenly comes alive in your mind. You still remember how sexy he sounded moaning out your name as he rocked his hips forward, his fingers exploring around your chest, rubbing and pinching at a certain spot to make you press closer to him in desperation for more of his touch.
“Suck on your fingers, make them wet, then bring them back down.” Donghyuck’s hips are bucking against his hand, his fingers tugging his zipper down. “Imagine my mouth latching on your nipple, sucking it the way I always do. The way you like me to do.”
You bring your fingers to your mouth, coating two of them with saliva before you bring them back down to pinch your sensitive bud. With your eyes closed and his heavy breathing in your ear, the wet sensation of your fingers gives you a clear image of his tongue flicking against your nub.
“Tell me how you feel.”
“It’s not enough,” you croak out, “I want to feel you directly on my skin.”
Donghyuck takes a sharp breath. “You don’t even know how much I want to be there and touch you.” The way his voice suddenly becomes deep sends shivers down your spine. “I want to suck bruises on your skin. I want to mark you everywhere, again and again, so the bruises will last for days. I want you to remember me every time you see yourself in the mirror.”
You sheepishly smile, though your heart is still racing. “I always remember you even without that, Haechannie.”
The sudden change of his name warms his heart. “I wish you’re the only one who calls me that. You make my stage name sounds better, special. I could have thousands of people screaming my name but none of them makes me feel the way you do.” As he slides his hand under his boxer, finally making direct contact with his skin, Donghyuck becomes desperate once again. “Bring your other hand down. I want you to touch yourself, Noona, please.”
You slide your hand between your legs, tentatively rubbing yourself between your folds. “Hyuck…”
“Does it feel good?”
You nod, eyes shut, and your mind wanders. “Yes…”
“Rub your clit for me. And imagine I’m doing that with my tongue.”
You can picture him with his head between your legs so perfectly behind your closed eyelids. He has done it several times and you remember how he would always start slow, placing open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh before dipping his head down and swipe his tongue along your folds—all the while never breaking eye-contact. He would press a kiss against your clit, and lick you slowly because he’d want you to beg for it. He never directly told you but you could tell he liked being in control because the second you whispered “Please, Hyuck,” he would immediately indulge you with everything you wanted and more.
Donghyuck would suck hard on your clit, doing it so suddenly that you’d nearly crush him by wrapping your legs too tightly around his head. Amazed and delighted by your reaction, he would break into a smile with his tongue still darting out to taste you, mouth pressing harder against your skin until he plunged his tongue inside your heat.
You moan out his name at the memory, directly to the phone.
“Fuck, baby, you sound so perfect…” Donghyuck nearly whimpers and the word baby stirs something within you as he never called you that before.
“Call me like that again…” You rub yourself harder on the spot you like the most. “Please, Hyuck…”
“Baby…” Donghyuck’s fingers are curling harder around his length, pumping himself in accordance to every gasp and moan you’re emitting. “I wish I could see you—I wish I could lock my eyes with yours as I eat you up. I want to see your face, every single expression you make—I bet you look so cute, so goddamn... erotic.”
Your hold around your phone loosens but fortunately for you, the pillow pressing against it keeps it close to your ear. “Touch yourself,” you breathily murmurs, “I want you to touch yourself too.”
“I am, baby,” Donghyuck softly moans, his fingers tightening around his length. “What else do you want me to do?”
“I want you to stroke yourself harder and run your thumb over your slit.” Donghyuck zealously follows, cursing under his breath at the pleasure. “And I want you to keep doing it until my name escapes your lips.”
“God, I want you.” He repeats your name over and over again, as ordered, with him stroking himself faster each time. “Noona, I want your mouth on me. I want to see you hollow your cheeks around me—like how you did to me when we were backstage, that time after the concert. You looked so pretty that night, so eager—so desperate for me—”
“Me too. I want to make you feel good too. I—” You nip at your bottom lip, feeling goosebumps creeping up your skin when he moans out your name. You’ve always loved his voice, loved it more than anything else in the world, and the sounds he makes when he’s in bed with you is the sexiest thing that even your poor mind can’t even begin to imagine. And now, focusing solely on his voice, listening to his filthy, sinful words, he’s driving you to the edge of your sanity.
“I’ve touched myself before at the thought of you,” he confesses breathlessly, “Several times, even way before we started dating.”
You’re trembling at the thought. “Haechannie—”
“You don’t know just how much—” The sound of him trying to stifle down a moan only makes you crave for him more. “—how much I wanted you back then. How much I want you now. Even during high school, I just—I wanted you—wanted to touch you—wanted—ah fuck,” a whine slipped out his lips, “Wanted to hold you so bad, to make love to you until—”
At the rustling sounds, him whimpering at his touches, and you rubbing yourself on the perfect spot, you know you won’t last long. “H-Hyuck, are you close?”
“Just a little bit more, Noona, ah—” He thrashes his head against the pillow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard. “Fuck, I need to be inside you. I need to feel you clenching your walls around me.” At the memory of you gazing at him with anticipation building inside your seductive, half-lidded eyes, as you parted your legs to give him permission to ravish you the way he wanted, Donghyuck quickens the pace, thrusting vigorously into his hand. “Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby, please.”
You’re more than keen to follow, inserting one digit inside your heat with another one following soon after. You can visualize him bringing your legs in the air until they dangle over his shoulders, his hips slamming hard against yours with each thrust. “Hyuck—”
“If you were here right now,” he nearly growls, “I would fuck you so hard until you’re mewling my name against the sheets. And I won’t stop, I won’t stop even if you beg me to. I won’t stop until I’m done with you.”
Donghyuck doesn’t sound like he’s trying to dirty talk which only makes it even more arousing to your ear. It’s as if he’s losing control of his mouth, just saying anything that comes to mind. The honesty, the urgency, his breathy, desperate calls of your name between lewd words—
You choke out a sob. “Hyuck—I’m close—”
“Me too—N-noona—Kiss me—”
It’s one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever felt and it’s funny because you never really enjoyed touching yourself before. Donghyuck follows a few seconds after, moaning your name so erotically that will probably give you a hard time falling asleep for days at the thought of it. You’re left dazed, staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Your phone lays forgotten on the pillow next to you. Mustering all the strength you have left, you reach out for it. “Hyuck…?”
You can hear him breathing heavily. “I’m here,” he says. “Are you okay? Did you get to come?”
“Y-yes.” Now that it’s over, you begin to feel self-conscious again and the heat that blooms on your cheeks nearly wash every bit of your orgasm away in an instant. “Did you?”
“I made a huge mess.” He chuckles, sounding just as embarrassed as you are. “Fuck, didn’t realize it was going to be this good when we started. What would’ve happened if we had Face-Timed each other instead?”
Your head nearly explodes at the thought. “One step at a time, Hyuck. I’m practically dying from shame right now.”
He laughs a little at that. “So, you don’t really oppose the idea? Man, I have something to look forward to then.”
“Shut up, you’re gross. Is this the reason you called me?”
“No,” he hastily says, “I swear, I called because I missed hearing your voice.” Then he thinks about it again. “Well, I mean, I have been thinking about doing, uhh, these kinds of things with you but trust me, it wasn’t the reason why I called.”
“Sure,” you flatly reply, teasing him.
“Yah, yah, yah, it’s your fault for saying that you were wearing nothing but my shirt!”
“It’s your fault for asking me what I was wearing!”
It’s always like this with him. You’re bickering at one point, having sex at another time, then goes back to bickering once again. But it’s endearing, you suppose, because after this, you’ll be murmuring loving words, and just when you begin to think about it, Donghyuck whispers into the phone.
“I love you, Noona. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
And you smile. “I love you too, Haechannie. You’re the second best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“What the hell is the first one?”
“Chicken nuggets.”
“You’re so dead.”
***
#haechan smut#haechan fluff#haechan x reader#donghyuck smut#nct smut#haechan imagines#haechan scenarios#nct fluff#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct dream imagines#nct dream smut#nct dream fluff#nct dream scenarios#nct#nct dream#haechan#haechan drabbles#haechan timestamps#nct 127 imagines#mine#wrote this in a rush because i was dead tired from writing that one long-ass hyuck fic i'm working on for the collab#didn't want to post this at first but this has been sitting in my drafts for so long#and people have been asking for my next update so...#i hope this isn't as TERRIBLE as i think it is#also i won't post anything for a while until i'm finished with that long-ass hyuck fic
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My Top 8 Best Acting Moments from Aidan Gallagher!
Thank You to Anonymous for Requesting
Analysis Below
>>Warning: This is a giant post, so don’t click “read more” unless you genuinely want to read more. Otherwise, you’ll be scrolling for a long-ass time. This analysis covers the acting, psychology, and writing genius of Five Hargreeves.<<
So, this may be the lowest on this list, but it is by no means his weakest acting scene. My god, this scene is incredible because of the accuracy given the age and, henceforth, the experience of the actor.
Acting is effective if the person is able to accurately tell a truth whilst in imaginary circumstances. In order to act powerfully, we are commonly taught to connect complicated emotional situations to something we know well and, therefore, can portray well.
For many, being drunk isn’t anything new. And being tipsy isn’t exactly uncommon to act out. But for a fourteen-year-old, this is awesome to see because it is incredibly accurate. And, given the character’s psychological/emotional status, it’s even more impressive.
Here’s why:
So, right off the bat, listening to Aidan’s speech is something awesome. His clear yet natural slurring, his guttural tone: these two things are perfect indications of intoxication, since volume control is practically gone and drunk people don’t think things through. They just talk, and talk, and stumble because their inhibitions are so low.
It’s can really be heard, best, when he says, “she said it makes me surly” and when Diego whips around, he says, “hmm?”
Another thing that makes this so fun to watch is the fact that Aidan is completely lax. Being carried is one sign of that, yes, but even his subtle movements are loose. He did his homework, not only for the vocalization of someone who is drunk, but also for their movements.
Look how loose his movements are. He just tosses his hand up, lets it drop back down, and his head is too heavy, flopping all around. Completely uncoordinated and smooth, which is a bright contrast to Five’s usual coordinated, sharp, and calculated movements. The character is relatively rigid, which makes sense given his psychology and traumas.
Speaking of traumas.
There is this beautiful, subtle self-soothing movement going on right here. It’s a clear comfort to him, and after the night he has had, and the trauma he has endured, it makes perfect sense for him to be clinging to her as such. Whether Aidan knew what he was doing with this, I can’t say, but what I can say was that it was a fantastic choice of action to follow through with.
KEY NOTES: Acting drunk is all about fluidity. You make yourself as liquid-y as possible. Become one with the water, though not in an elegant way. Rather, become the cup that’s just tipped over. Water is spilling over the side, getting everywhere, aimlessly spreading across the tabletop. It’s a mess, it has no direction nor stability, etc.
Aidan follows through with this beautifully. I could gush about this all day, just as I could with so much of his acting. Acting drunk is hard, even for some adults. Luckily, he has it on his side that Five is so completely opposite of what we see here, that him being so flimsy and giggly is strange as shit.
Additionally, if you’re ever needing to act drunk, do the opposite of your character, given the script allows it. If the character is normally very carefree and lighthearted, become the depressed, crying drunk, or the angry drunk. Or, like Aidan, if your character is normally rigid, become a giggling mess that can’t take shit seriously.
On to the next, where it’s more about the psychology of a character rather than the physical acting of the actor...
This scene. This was the moment that made me realize just how much I adored Five when he’s absolutely batshit. Unlike most of this list, where internal conflict and monologue drives for an impressive performance, in this case, it is the external conflict and monologue that makes this scene fantastic!
Here’s why:
It is an absolute rollercoaster of emotions for Five Hargreeves.
Seriously, this guy is leaping from emotion to emotion, bouncing between frustration to borderline panic to bitter glee to mania to relief. You can practically see the gears turning in Aidan’s head throughout the entire scene as he throws Five through the ringer.
So, from the top, we’re given this glorious moment, both a genius writing move and fantastically acted.
The vending machine.
I know a lot of people are like, “hell yeah” because Aidan gets to say “fuck”, or because he’s just off the shits. There are many reasons to love this scene. But I especially love this scene because it’s really introducing to the audience exactly what’s going to happen: intensity, violence, and Five snapping, losing his cool in a lapse of fear and frustration and desperation. And it’s beautifully encapsulated in this one fucking scene.
Aidan’s acting here might seem easy, and in a sense, it is. It’s easy to ram your shoulder against a vending machine and shake it and get mad. But what isn’t easy is knowing why you’re doing this, and feeling it. Just from observation and process of elimination, Aidan’s likely mostly a method-based actor. He bases his acting, and his characters, in his own reality. That means that, if Five is panicked, Aidan will force panic upon himself. He’ll induce an emotion physically to get a psychological and emotional reaction.
And here, it’s clear that whatever he was thinking out, however he had prepped for this scene, was working. Because you can freeze these frames and, sure, see funny faces. But you’ll also see flashes of fear, of desperation, of panic, of anger. Fear and panic because he may fail his siblings, he may not be able to save them. Desperation because he needs this to work, he is going to murder all these people and so he needs it to work. And anger because the Handler is making him do this again; he’s right under her thumb once more.
All of these emotions, every damn one, is played out in this one. fucking. scene. And that’s insane.
Those emotions come to a head here:
Aidan’s deep, stabilizing breath grounds Five. He has gotten his rage and desperation and fear out. Now, there’s only one thing for Five to do: murder the Board. And it’s an instant click here.
There’s the deep breath. The understanding. The resignation to what needs to be done.
Then a head turn.
Then boom. Look carefully. You can see the light drain from his eyes, see the hesitation bleed out right there. Right there. All within a breath, head turn, a beat, then a face forward.
That is some intense grasp on your physicality, your emotions, and your portrayal of those emotions. Aidan’s always been fantastic at emoting, but subtle scenes like this just prove his class in it. It’s incredible to see.
And then this scene:
This shit is actually an amazing move on Aidan’s part. It holds both literal and metaphorical weight: he sighs, from exhaustion, because Five is fucking tired after jumping that much, expending that much energy in a short amount of time, and narrowly letting his target escape. But it’s also showing a mental exhaustion, a wearing of the mind on the body. He sighs from relief, but it’s ironic, because the fight is far from over.
And you can see that.
Notice how Aidan may be sighing - sighing with his whole body - but the exhaustion is still in his eyes, his brow is still furrowed. There is no relief there, because there isn’t any relief for Five in this moment. His mission has been accomplished, but he has to deal with the Handler, with the aftermath, with the repercussions of his selfish actions to save his family.
And you can see it all in this movement.
KEY NOTES: When acting out internal conflict, be subtle. Obvious movements are made for obvious, external conflicts. A person who punches first in a bar fight as an obvious external conflict. But, like shown here, a person who is breaking from the inside out will have external action, but also internal emotion that comes out in the most subtle of ways, whether it be through expression, through contradicting action (the sigh, but no visible relief), etc.
More often than not, in the arts, less is more. However, you first need to understand the more to be able to do the less. So analyze the scene, analyze the character, understand it fully, and feel it truthfully.
Onto the next!
This scene is quick but beautiful.
I love the entire apocalypse scene, and I’m sure you do as well. But this one moment right here. This moment where he sees Klaus and backs away? Fucking beautiful.
Let’s just zoom in, shall we?
Yes, a lovely grainy gif. But God it shows everything you need it to. This scene is a fucking gutpunch, and here’s why:
You can see every flicker of emotion, every transition. It’s in the way his mouth eventually closes, the way he backs up, slowly. It’s so fucking evident that Five is heartbroken, and you can see the thoughts going through his head. The realization that this is Klaus, that his siblings are dead, that he is alone in this apocalypse and his family is dead. The tears in his eyes...
God, bro. It hits so good.
Not being able to use dialogue can sometimes be difficult, because the actor doesn’t have a key part of their craft with them: words. Being able to emote, to shift from emotion to emotion so seamlessly with just a meager movement of the jaw while backing away. It’s incredible.
That’s literally all this is about. I chose this as my number six because it is so powerful within only a hundred-or-so frames. Having an actor be able to emote to clearly with just facial expression...
Shit, bro. Shit. It’s fantastic.
Like I said, the rest of this scene is amazing, and him finding his other siblings is intense, but this look right here is just...unparalleled.
KEY NOTES: Feel that shit. If you can’t feel it, craft a narrative to make yourself feel it. Again, acting is always about believing and living truthfully in imaginary circumstances, and sometimes it’s difficult to express emotions and feelings as is, let alone without dialogue. To help that, think of something.
For example, in this scene, if I were Aidan, I would think about the fact that these people I love are dead, the world as I know it is destroyed. Sure, I may not know that literal feeling, but I do understand the feeling of hopelessness, of feeling so utterly alone. Make it so that you’re able to live truthfully, however you need to do that. People usually don’t have completely empty heads; they’re thinking of things, of many things, often. So think about those things in-scene and in-character, and feel it.
Additionally, this is going back to the less is more. Aidan barely moves, here. His expression is relatively static but that slow back away, that hardening of his jaw, those things are gentle shifts that drastically change the way Five is in the scene. He goes from shocked, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed, to feeling cold realization as he closes his mouth and backs away, the understanding dawning upon him.
I could gush about this for decades...
Next!
This whole barn scene is just...gold as fuck. But this scene in particular, with the interwoven flashbacks of Five’s siblings, his father, his instances with time travel. The realizations that cross his face are beautiful, which in turn, makes this scene fantastic.
Get ready for some awkwardly close close-ups, because I’m about to explain some really cool shit as to how Aidan’s using facial expressions to navigate pain, realization, fear, surprise, etc.
So here’s why:
FEELING THE FEELINGS.
That’s how. A lot of what makes this scene powerful from an acting perspective is because Aidan completely suspends himself in disbelief. There are a lot of surprises that come to Five in this moment, and Aidan feels them all. And he feels them powerfully. He feels the shock around the pain of being shot, on top of it.
So to kick it off! Here:
Aidan’s living in this moment. He’s living in the anger of the Handler, thinking he’s going to die right here. His siblings have just been murdered again, by this bitch. And the audience is able to live in that with him. His eyes harden. His jaw sets. He’s breathing tight around the pain, infuriated, either shaking from the agony or the hatred or both.
Five is so caught up in that moment, and Aidan suspends himself in that moment so clearly, that the next moment is powerful as shit.
The Handler gets shot.
She gets turned to swiss-fucking-cheese right in front of him, and the way Aidan lets Five live in every second is beautiful. He goes from shocked, to confused, to going, “oh shit, that looks painful”. And it’s muted by his pain. Aidan doesn’t need to move much, he doesn’t need to make a grandiose gesture. It’s wide eyes, it’s knitted eyebrows, it’s swallowing around the blood and letting Five be in this moment.
And then Five realizes - Aidan lets Five realize - that the Swede has taken the Handler’s place. That he’s going to die all over again.
There is that anger again. That pure fucking spite. It’s the look of a man who would murder someone if he could sit up. His jaw sets from before, where it was slack with surprise and sympathetic pain. Look how sharp his eyes are. Boy is fucking pissed and it’s beautiful.
Let’s hop back! Back to movement!
Aidan’s squirming around here?
Realistic as shit. Five’s just been shot. That’s absolute agony. And there’s blood coming down the side of his mouth, which means his lungs have somehow been hurt. He can’t talk, breathing must suck, and so of course he’s writhing on the ground.
And this?
Is Five clenching his hands from pain? Is he trying to blink? What’s going on here? I don’t know, maybe Aidan does, but either way, both motivations are powerful. Five may be trying to blink away. He may be trying to tap into his powers instinctively. Or maybe he’s squirming in pain, clenching and unclenching his fists. And that shit punches. It’s so subtle, but so good, keeping the audience in the moment. No matter where you look on his body, whether his hands, his face, his chest - it all shows the agony he’s in, the desperation he’s swimming in.
Which then leads to the coolest fucking moment:
Look at how his eyes shift, only just so. His brows furrow only slightly. He’s realizing what’s going on, what he can do to save his family. Aidan played this perfectly. Again, less is more. These subtle movements make so much sense, because Five has been shot, he’s losing blood fast, and it’s dulling his movements and senses.
And when Five begins turning back the seconds?
The pain, the shock, the “holy shit this is working???” My god, you can see him choking on the blood and around the agony. You can see his hesitation, his being startled by his own powers, by what he is capable of. The rapid blinking, the jumping eyebrows, the gasping for air as the bullets likely begin ripping out of him.
KEY NOTES: Subtle subtle subtle. Live in that moment. Suspend your disbelief. Here, in this scene, there are several key shifts. These shifts are supposed to be a massive surprise to Five. And because Aidan is king at staying in the moment, and letting that moment live in him, he is able to display these shifts perfectly.
1st Shift - Realizing he is alive, and his siblings are dead.
2nd Shift - The Handler getting shot.
3rd Shift - Axel moving to kill him.
4th Shift - The realization of his father’s words.
5th Shift - Holy shit time travel is working.
All of them need to have a shift in-scene/with the tone. Aidan shifts this with pure expression. He doesn’t need to utter a single word because he is able to live in that moment and truly let himself be shocked, scared, desperate, angry, etc. So, in order to do this, live in the moment.
Some people say knowing exactly what will happen helps, because you’re able to time your expressions perfectly. Others say that knowing nothing helps, because you’re literally letting yourself be surprised. This truly depends on the actor, and their style. Aidan has expressed that he waits to read his lines until he’s there, on set, because then it’ll be more of a shock to him. That works really well for him (clearly) but it may not work for you, so test that out how you’d like.
Onto the next!
This.
Shit.
Is so good.
The moment when Five meets with Dolores again after god knows how much time while he was at the Commission-- It’s beautiful. And again, being the king of the subtle, Aidan can display the perfect mix of emotions that are occurring in this scene.
Here’s what’s up:
As many people may have noticed, a lot of these fantastic, key moments for me, in particular, are special due to subtlety. And subtlety is seen in the micro-expressions displayed through the face, mainly. Specifically, the eyes. Aidan’s ability to act solely through his eyes is something I’m going to focus on for this scene in particular.
These are his eyes the moment he sees Dolores again. And what’s really, really fucking cool is that Aidan is completely living in this scene. It shows in his eyes: real compassion, real love, real care. Sure, Aidan may not care about the mannequin in front of him, but he is thinking about something, whether that’s Five’s ties to Dolores, or someone in his life that he truly feels fond over.
You can see it.
His eyes soften significantly as the gif continues, and you can even see the corners of his eyes upturn after he says, “Dolores”. There is real love here. The actor is able to portray true love through just the eyes. And that’s insane. Many actors express love through physical action because they may not be actually feeling it. They’ll say, “I love you” but express flatly, with dull eyes and a forced smile.
But here. No, not that shit. This shit has Aidan feeling everything. And it makes a big difference, makes everything feel so much more genuine. Good acting is through the eyes, not the words. Dialogue enhances the story, but being genuine, and selling that story as “reality”, is done by the actor, through the eyes, the subtle expressions, the minimal gestures and movements.
Let’s look at some more eyes?
Now, I fucking hate looking at eyes. But with Aidan - like with many good actors - I find them fascinating to watch. Because if an actor is feeling it, is living in the moment, they will express fantastically through their eyes. Most human communication is body language/unspoken, and I’m willing to bet a good chunk of that is through the eyes alone.
You can see Five thinking in that second gif, his eyes flicking left, left further, deep in thought for just a second. That is the thing you should be envisioning when authors say, “they could practice see the wheels turning in their head”.
In that first gif, Aidan’s compassion and softness, his quiet eyes, are contrasted by the sharp roll following the “obviously”, which makes the love being expressed to Dolores only that much stronger. It enhances the moment. See, because being too subtle the entire time makes it so the audiences don’t pick up much at all, they don’t feel it. And being too obvious makes you an amateur, makes it comical, almost.
When you’re strong in your craft, you’re able to make every single move in the most calculated of manners, but you make it seem effortless, make it seem natural. That’s incredible shit.
I’m by no means saying Aidan is perfect. He definitely isn’t. But, scenes like this showcase his experience in the field.
KEY NOTES:
Piggybacking off the subtlety discussed earlier, practice living in the moment. There is no real way to practice “being subtle” because it manifests naturally when the actor is living in the moment. Hence why this scene is so high on my list.
So learn to equate the emotions of your characters to your life. Tie your character’s life into yourself, somehow, all while keeping a safe distance. It’s by no means easy, and it takes years to learn how to do that, how to express naturally and not force a single thing. Being vulnerable, and raw, and flawed like that is hard, since so many people are taught that flaws are shameful, that perfection is required for success. But acting, like much of the arts, require you to unravel that believe and be truly vulnerable, exposed to possibly millions of viewers.
So learn to live in the moment. That will shield you all whilst letting you live freely as the character and, therefore, express truthfully and subtly.
Next!
Remember my rant about subtlety?
Yeah, fuck that, because with this, we’re going to talk about going off the rails. But, going off the rails in a tasteful manner. The paradox psychosis scenes were a beautiful contrast to a normally stiff, calculated character. it was satisfying, and entertaining, and so fucking powerful when breaking down the psychology of Five.
So let’s hop into that:
Psychology is everything to a character, because it is everything to humanity, and people as a whole. Every decision made is dictated by psychology, by experiences and how those are compartmentalized and processed in the brain. An action isn’t done without it meaning something to the person.
And the same goes for every character made.
If you are a writer, you need to understand the actions and reactions of your characters based on their experiences and their psychology. If you just...write random shit because you want to, or because it seems funny or creepy, it may be good, but it won’t line up psychologically and it’ll show. It’ll be obvious to those of us that study this day-in-day-out.
The same goes for acting and actors.
An actor will be much more powerful in their role if they can understand their character’s psychology. The amount of empathy going into this is intense, especially for those playing “villains” or antagonists - those with flimsy morals - because you need to be able to break down, understand, and agree with the psychology of your character. It’ll make them so much more realistic and powerful.
That is why seeing Five - a normally calculated, sharp, careful character - off the shits is the best thing ever. And it’s in-character, too! He’s learned over the years that independence is the key to survival, that thought (as opposed to action, or outbursts) yields better results.
Yet here, in the scene, Five is relying upon Luther’s help. He’s trusting his brother. He’s acting irrationally. He’s skittish. And it’s such a beautiful contrast. Admittedly, this scene is more about the writing than Aidan’s acting, but it is still fantastically acted, and that only adds more to the realism, to the intensity, to the fact that it is so not Five to do this, and yet, it is very much so Five.
That! Is because of body language.
We know it is Five, that it is in-character, because it still follows Five’s normal body language, his gestures, his manic buzzing around despite his words sounding paranoid, despite his actions being rash. I’ve already spent a lot of time on this number already, so I’ll just demonstrate with a specific scene:
He’s pensive as hell right here. Shoulders tense, shifting back wards. He knows what’s going on, he’s as terrified as he allows himself to be (because he can’t stifle it, perhaps), and it’s so very Five while also being not Five at all.
Despite the music telling us it’s all gucci, it is not all gucci. Look at his eyes. They harden. They get dark. His demeanor completely shifts into caution. he swallows. Steels himself. This is the Five we know - a paranoid little shit - and yet, there is fear that is so uncharacteristic. All through Aidan’s beautiful acting. All through him understanding the psychology of Five perfectly. This is why it is required that you understand your character’s every move, every action, every line of dialogue, every thought.
So, this kind of shit throughout the entire paradox psychosis scene is just amazing. And it’s exactly for the reasons listed above. Aidan knows Five. Not only is he Five, but he knows Five. Inside and out. And god does it show.
KEY NOTES:
Know your character. Know them better than you know yourself. Deadass. Know them better thank you know yourself so that you can delve into the meat of their psychology and tweeze out exactly what you need to do in order to act them correctly.
Onto the next!
This gourmet shit.
Time to get uncomfortably close once again.
The jaw clench! The cheek tightening! The head tilt! The lips thinning! Look at that beautiful expression. See, acting, like writing, is all based on formula. Now, I’m going to out myself, but I’m autistic. Facial expressions, movements, twitches, etc. aren’t inherent to me, and understanding them and analysis them is a learned behavior.
Actors and writers, like me, need to understand the formula.
Clenched jaw + fidgeting + tightening lips = numerous things, ranging from frustration, to anger, to desperation, to pain.
But when you include the eyes.
The eyes tell it all.
Small, watering, tight at the corners, knitted brows. All of these, plus our formula above, create the perfect mix of frustration, desperation, pain, fear.
He is frustrated with the situation, with Vanya. He is desperate to get her to listen. He is in pain because he hates to do this to her, hates to have to fight her on this. And he is scared because what if he has to fight her?
Actors are usually conscious - at least at first - about these movements. They learn to have complete control of their bodies, their faces, down to the muscle. Or, they should. I can’t speak for Aidan, because I’m not him, clearly. But I can safely say that, if he doesn’t consciously have control of his body and understand exactly what’s going on, then he has some intense intuition about his emotions. He is able to perfectly display a mishmash of emotions, all perfect given the situation, the character, his experiences.
Aidan gives Five the multi-layering goodness that we analysis kids love because Five isn’t just upset. He isn’t just frustrated. He is frustrated on top of being scared, and agonized, and exhausted (you can see the weariness in his eyes; it’s all in the eyes).
KEY NOTES
I’m not sure if this would help, but try making a formula. If you are worried about your character not doing an emotion right, or wanting to do multiple emotions at once, craft a formula or a chart.
So, say you want depression and anger. A basic formula could look like this:
Depression = Hollow Eyes + Monotone Voice + Slumped Posture
Anger = Shaking + Sharp Eyes + Clenched Fists
Then, you can combine the two together. You can have hollowed eyes, and a monotone voice, but also sharpened corners to the eyes, and clenched fists. Here, Aidan is tapping into multiple things, things that have interwoven specifics to their formulas. That’s why it works so beautifully. His eyes scream agony, his jaw tightens with frustration, his eyebrow knit together with frustration--
Bless this kid and his acting.
Anyways, last but definitely not least, here is my final analysis:
Now, this scene may not seem like the most intense acting ever, but in reality - to me - this shit is insanely powerful. It’s not just the acting going into work here; it’s the blocking, the dialogue, the pacing, the atmosphere, the emotional environment, the music and sound engineering...
It’s a fucking cinematic masterpiece.
But, since I am here to talk about just acting, and just Aidan’s acting, let me tell you about how this scene is made so good. There are two reasons:
One, is that Aidan is a master at post traumatic stress disorder and PTSD psychological processes and how that comes out in action, reaction, dialogue delivery, etc.
And two, he acts like a grown-ass old man.
Let’s talk about the second one first, because why not:
(apologies ahead of time for fucked gifs, this scene is impossible)
This scene. It’s just a drink. Chill, whatever, right?
Wrong.
It’s the way he moves. The way he drinks. The way he holds himself when he is around Reginald, another man his age. Around another man his age that had abused him, had done him wrong, but in Five’s eyes, some whom he had done wrong, too.
Luther is the sibling that is always said to be in denial about their father’s wrongdoings, but a lot of people neglect the fact that Five is, too. He is just as much in denial as Luther, if not more so by the time season two wraps up.
And it shows.
It shows in the way he moves as if they were equals, when they are so clearly not. He tils his head, gives acknowledgement in the way old men do. The generational gap is closed by Aidan’s movements, not by his words. It’s incredibly satisfying to see Five’s psychology bleeding through as he instinctively shifts from “I’m dealing with a bunch of kids” to “I’m alongside a man my age, my father”.
And speaking of psychology, let’s please talk about PTSD.
Specifically, subtle show not tell of PTSD, all through the eyes.
Right. Here.
Look, I’m not going to lie, if I analyze this scene, it’ll be the same things you’ve heard before. Everything I gushed about earlier is going to be repeated here for the ultimate finale on this long-ass fucking post.
But, humor me.
Five’s got trauma. Bitch has trauma for days. Though, he doesn’t wear it. He hides it, he buries it, because it is useless to him. Yet, it will always be there. His trauma of abandonment, and survival in the apocalypse, on top of the abuse from his father, the stress of his childhood, and topped off with the murder he had to shoulder for the sake of the Commission. Rarely does this show. Rarely is it seen.
Save for scene likes this. Right. Fucking. Here.
Aidan knows Five. And he knows the traumas Five’s endured.
Five can’t look at his father as he admits his failures, the snide, “I told you so” ringing through his head. He has to acknowledge that his father was right, that he was right all along. This is a burden Five has carried for decades, as seen with his discussion with Diego in 2x02. It’s not something small for him. So, to admit that...
The stare says it all.
His eyes are glazed over, lost in the past. He isn’t looking at Reggie, is looking past him. This is the thousand-yard stare you always read about. These are the eyes of agony, and regret, and a flashback. His eyes flick, flick to the side, towards the camera, as Five remembers something. Aidan knows how to play this. He knows how to play this trauma of remembering, of remembering what he had done to his siblings and how he has failed. And, finally, he is able to look and Reginald but he is choking back something. He swallows thickly, as if it’s almost sickening to do so.
Aidan’s understanding of Five, and his trauma and psychology, and expressing it all through his body language, and expression, and eyes. God, it’s fucking mesmerizing.
SO TO WRAP IT UP
Everything here is purely my opinion, but if I were to leave you with anything, acting (and writing) comes down to three basic things:
--Understanding the psychology of your character, through-and-through.
--Understanding your body, your expressions, your eyes, and how you react and can react to specific emotions.
--Living in the moment, and being present in the character’s life, being truthful to them over yourself.
These are the things that Aidan excels at. God, he is amazing at it. And I appreciate the hell out of it any time I see him. He is so truthful to Five, so honest to the character, that it’s beautiful to watch. Five is so flawed, so hurt, and so complex, and Aidan isn’t afraid to show us this vulnerability. I suppose that should be one last thing that all writers and actors and anyone in the arts should strive for:
--Vulnerability, pain, fear, and raw, oftentimes shielded emotions are not something to hide but, rather, are your greatest strength.
#aidan gallagher#the umbrella academy#umbrella academy#tua#number five#five hargreeves#five#acting analysis
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None Stand Equal In This Dark World
A/N: Officially my largest ever fic so please. Just read it and be nice sob because I’m kinda proud of some of it
Written for @grishaversebigbang 2021!!!
Corporalki: @homicide-depot
Materialki: @generalnabri (x), @kolarpem (x), @aivicart (x), @maximumbluebirdpatrol , @niadrawing (x)
(Summary: A murder mystery AU featuring Zoyalai, twists and turns, moral dilemma, and then some more
Read on AO3
Chapter One
The apartment door was wide open.
In retrospect, that alone should have set off the alarm bells in Zoya’s head. No one left the door to their place wide open. She can’t imagine why she simply dismissed it.
Scratch that, she knew why. She’d been tracking this idiotic Grisha for a month now. She was tired and desperate.
But it appeared that- who would’ve thought- not being at the top of your game has consequences.
Consequences like staring down a man who’s been tied to a chair and gagged in the middle of, what Zoya guesses is, the lounge, eyes wide with terror.
Zoya is mad at herself for not managing to guess it was a red herring- the damn door - and very, very mad at the Grisha who has, once again, slipped right through her hands.
She nods to one of her men, and he immediately drops to the man’s level to untie and presumably interrogate him. Zoya doesn’t stick around for the details- she trusts her people to give her good reports. Instead, after a cursory look around, she tips her head back to face the ceiling, taking in a deep breath, and leaves the apartment.
The weather outside took a dramatic turn in the fifteen minutes she was inside- it had been sunny before, or at least as sunny as Ravka ever could get. But now, the sun has all but ceased to exist, and the bitter cold is back once more.
Zoya prefers the cold.
(She doesn’t, not really, but no one needed to know that.)
Zoya starts walking, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Her mind races, trying to connect all the dots, trying to figure out where her investigation had gone wrong. Start from the beginning. Don’t miss anything. The most minor of details are the most important.
The beginning. A woman showed up to their headquarters about her missing family. Those cases were usually dismissed completely, handed over to the police forces- Zoya’s force was Grisha-centric, other cases, no matter how large or important they were, did not concern them. But this case was different.
The woman was Grisha.
Her family weren’t, evidently- and neither did they know that she was. They’d been missing for six weeks, and the odds were pretty heavily stacked against them still being alive. The woman was detained (she was Grisha, this was Zoya’s job ) and a group of officers were dispatched for a search and rescue.
The officers never returned.
Alarm bells were now ringing, and the General assigned Zoya to the case. In the time since she officially took over, twenty more disappearances were documented, and all of them in Os Kerva alone. Saints knew what was happening in the rest of the country.
But Zoya had never believed in Saints, so she found out what was happening in the rest of the country.
The total number of disappearances in all of Ravka that had this case’s signature mark- an eclipsed sun left wherever the victims were seen last- was an estimated three thousand . Zoya couldn’t believe no one had connected the dots before her. Then again, the entire of the force were filled with incompetent idiots, so maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her.
The series of events . Zoya travelled up and down the country with the best of her underlings, talking to anyone who knew the victims, searching their last known places with tooth combs, building up working hypotheses, using all the resources they had available. Zoya was not an idiot. She knew exactly how capable she was.
And she also knew when she was fighting a losing battle.
And so, when she got a call from one of her top detectives about a confirmed Grisha she’d been trailing for some time now who’d begun suspicious activity, she was clutching at straws and willing to take anything that came her way. She met up with her agent, and a few days later, they got the address of the apartment she was currently pacing in front of.
The present . This part could be summed up fairly quickly. Zoya is, once again, at a fucking dead end .
Before she can kick something (or someone) out of frustration, A faint ringing reaches her ears, and frowning, Zoya stops in her tracks. Her phone is never not on silent. Calling Zoya Nazyalensky for anything was utterly pointless- she never picked up.
But the GIA has ways of getting into contact with its members regardless.
Muttering a curse, Zoya digs around her pockets, looking for the infernal device with its grating, high-toned ringing. Finally locating her phone, she jabs the answer button without looking at the caller ID.
“Yes?” she asks bluntly.
“Zoya,” Alina’s voice greets her.
Zoya immediately forgets everything that had been on her mind. When Alina calls, it’s rarely for a friendly chat.
“What’s wrong?”
“You need to get back here. As soon as possible.”
“Understood. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Alina hangs up immediately, and Zoya pockets her phone, mind racing.
She orders one of her lackeys to send her a report when they're done, grabs the keys for the van they’d used to get to the apartment from a rather distracted officer, taking off.
Zoya reaches the Grisha Investigation Authorities in approximately half the time she’d given to Alina, and she may or may not have disobeyed quite a few traffic laws to get to her destination as quickly as she did, but that was frankly unimportant.
She strides through the doors, not bothering to acknowledge the many who’ve halted their paths to nod to her or, in the case of a few particularly stupid (or courageous, however you wanted to see it) people, attempt to strike up a conversation with her. She didn’t break her pace even once, until she’d reached the door to the meeting room they usually used to meet up for serious issues. After taking a moment to compose herself, Zoya pushes the door open.
Inside, she finds all of her fellow Commanding Officers assembled- Adrik, Leoni, Alina, and Genya. Frowning, Zoya scans their faces, and mentally shifts whatever’s happening even higher on her scale of terrible shit to take care of immediately.
Because not even Leoni, who can find positivity at a funeral, is smiling right now. There’s barely a hint of her optimistic and eternally cheerful personality in her countenance.
Zoya carefully takes the seat left for her around the circular table. Her gaze flits from one worried face to another, and she decides to be direct.
“How bad is it?”
The question seems to jolt Alina out of her reverie. She looks up, and Zoya feels her breath catch, because she looks so… helpless. Terrified.
Genya takes it upon herself to answer Zoya’s question with another question, her mouth set in a grim line. “How’s your investigation going?”
“We lost the suspect,” Zoya admits, her earlier frustration returning with the reminder of the infernal case. “We’re right back to where we started- but without the hope and the general idea of where to start.”
“I’m not surprised,” Adrik mutters. “Considering who your delightful suspect is…”
Zoya furrows her brow, and glances back at Genya. “Explain.”
Genya looks as if she would rather do anything else, but after coming to the realisation that no one else is about to, she sighs and does so.
“I’m presuming you remember Alina’s case that went cold about two years back?”
A little too well. Even years later, that case haunts her- the truly horrific killings, from corpses with their body parts stuffed down their throats, to children who had clearly been still alive when burnt, the utter dead ends, Alina’s far too close brush with death, and… the person behind it all.
“You don’t think it’s the same person??” Zoya demands, horror spreading through her veins. She can not handle another Kirigan.
In lieu of replying, Genya nods to Leoni, who pushes forward a large envelope. Dread pooling in her gut, Zoya opens the package to find pictures from Alina’s investigation.
“We revisited these when your disappearances started,” Genya says. “And… found more similarities than we’re frankly comfortable with.”
Zoya shifts the photos around, and then freezes at one, having caught sight of a mostly blurry but still distinctive calling card. “That’s…”
“The eclipsed sun,” Adrik provides grimly. “You’re screwed.”
“Hey, now,” Leoni protests. “We don’t know that.”
Adrik snorts. “Don’t we? Need I remind you of the damage this person wrecked to the GIA and our country?”
“How do we know this isn’t just a copycat?” Zoya breaks in. “None of the bodies of the victims this time around have been discovered,”
“Copy cats still tend to have their own twists on kills, a signature, a mark that’s theirs. While none of the killings for either case have many similarities, they also don’t vary in terms of said signature.” Genya says.
“Killers are proud creatures,” Adrik inputs.
“And this one’s no exception,” Leoni says, eyes grim.
Zoya looks up. “What do you know?”
Leoni hesitates, but then gives in. “We got a note this morning. A photocopy should be in the envelope too.”
Zoya overturns the envelope, and sure enough, a piece of paper falls out. She picks it up, reads it, and crumples it up.
“You’re sure this isn’t a stupid joke?”
“It was in the Director’s office.” Leoni says.
Shit. Zoya glances back down at the crumpled mass she’s still clutching. You will burn on your mistakes. What mistakes?
She ignores the faint voice in the back of her head. You know what mistakes.
Zoya takes a deep breath, focuses her thoughts, and then exhales. “How’s the Director doing?”
“He’s terrified.” All of the COs seemed to be equally startled to see Alina was the one to speak. Her mouth is set in an angry line, and Zoya can guess the track of her thoughts, because they were the same ones that had crossed her mind upon hearing the words- who is he to be terrified? What right did the Director even have to feel scared, when he himself never so much as interacted with the cases???
Adrik sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Which is what has led us to our current predicament.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
Genya exhales in a huff. “He wants the Mentals on this case along with all of us.”
“He what.”
Alina, lips twisted in a sardonic smile, gestures to nothing in particular. “You heard correctly.”
“Why ??? This is my case, and I will handle it.”
“He doesn’t want a repeat of the bad press that came with my failing last time, I’m guessing.”
“Bad press,” Zoya spits out. “I wonder how much bad press he’ll get when I-”
“Do not,” Genya warns. “This could be helpful to us.”
But also a personal disgrace , Zoya finishes the sentence in her head. The Mentals were practically a legend of the GIA- they were special, elite investigators, a whole mix of people ranging from scientists to- if the rumors were correct- ex-spies, who ended up with the cases no one else in the force could solve, and somehow, without fail, solved each of them within a week at the least.
It was irritating as hell.
And having them assigned on your case meant that the Director did not trust you to be successful on your own.
Absolutely wonderful.
“So when are these... spectacular detectives arriving?” Zoya asks.
Genya opens her mouth, and then closes it, before starting, “Well-”
“I hope I’m not too late to this marvelous party?”
Zoya swivels to see who this truly abnormally cheerful person is, and then blinks. She turns back to face the others once more- Adrik still looks glum, Leoni is smiling her most polite smile, Alina seems to have perked up and Genya is genuinely smiling. They all look… unsurprised.
Of course they were hiding more secrets up their sleeves.
“ What,” Zoya finally breaks and asks. “Is the damned PR guy doing here?”
The aforementioned PR guy pouts. “Is that really what I’m known for around here? My PR duties? That’s quite depressing. Why would you focus on that when you could talk about my stunning good looks, or my undeniable charm, or even my ability to-”
“Nikolai,” Alina interrupts. “Shut up.” she looks at Zoya, a hint of dry amusement in her eyes.
“Zoya, this is Nikolai Lantsov, and he is indeed our PR guy, but he’s also… head of the Mentals.”
Zoya blinks. He’s what??? And then, wait… they knew who the special investigators were? How long have they known? Why was I not informed?
She doesn’t voice any of her thoughts, choosing instead to stare, unimpressed, at the blond, who grins at her in response.
“If I had known you possessed such astounding grace and beauty, Miss Nazyalensky, I would have made your acquaintance sooner! I’m sure these upcoming days will prove to be an absolute pleasure, provided I get to spend them in your delightful company.”
“Saints save me,” Zoya utters faintly. “The Director assigned an idiot to my case.”
“Hey, now!” Nikolai protests. “You haven’t even met the rest of my team yet!”
“An idiot who talks too much,” she deplores.
Genya and Alina both snort at that. In fact, all of her fellow COs seemed to be taking far too much pleasure in this situation. Zoya hates all of them.
“Well, now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way,” Nikolai says, to which Zoya distinctly hears Adrik mutter “pleasantries?” under his breath, “I think now would be a wonderful time for me to introduce you to my brilliant team,”
Genya sits up immediately, looking eager. Zoya wonders what that’s about.
She finds out fairly quickly.
Nikolai ushers in a group of people, and she recognises one in particular, one who she has, in fact, known since her college years -
David. Genya’s husband, David Kostyk, is a part of the Mentals. Harmless old David. Zoya can’t believe her eyes.
She scans the rest of the group, but the others barely seem familiar. The two Shu right in front of David look similar enough to be twins, apart from the height difference. Right next to David is a woman that, with a jolt, Zoya recognises as Adrik’s sister from what she’s heard and seen of her. Bringing up the rear is a man who vaguely resemblesNikolai himself, ducking his head shyly as he enters the room.
“Now that your merry party is all assembled,” Adrik says glumly. “Any ideas where to start?”
“Shouldn’t we at least get to know each other first?” Adrik’s sister asks.
Adrik stares at her. “I’ve known you since I was born.”
“We’re not the only ones in the room, Adrik.”
“Oh, aren’t we ? I can’t say I noticed.”
Nikolai interrupts their glaring match to finally provide Zoya with names to all the unfamiliar faces.
“Tamar, Tolya, Nadia, and Isaak, meet the officers we’ll be working with for the next few weeks or longer- Alina, Genya, Zoya, Leoni, and Adrik,” he gestures towards each person in turn. Zoya briefly wonders how he already knows their names, before realising that just because the GIA didn’t know who the special investigators were didn’t exactly mean they didn’t know the GIA either.
“And now,” Nikolai beams. “Let’s get comfortable. It’s time to discuss our present conundrum!”
#gvbb21#the grishaverse#the grisha trilogy#the grisha series#the grisha triumvirate#king of scars#grishaverse fanfiction#zoya nazyalensky#zoya nabri#nikolai lantsov#alina starkov#genya safin#david kostyk#tamar kir bataar#tolya yul bataar#tolya and tamar#adrik zhabin#leoni hilli#gvbbfic21#None Stand Equal In This Dark World
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🔞 Nsfw alphabet 🔞
☎️ OG Billy Lenz ☎️
It's time for some Chaotic Rat Gremlin
Also side note I'm at the moment reader the novel and ngl I changed a few things since it didn't fit his character very well. I'm not that far with it but I hope I did a good job with interpreting his character :)
A = Aftercare (what are they like after sex?)
☎️You know that feeling were you're really tired but got some extra suppressed energy, so you just kinda stand there in hell? That's him.
☎️Billy doesn't know if he should run around naked and do his usual rat gremlin stuff or fall asleep so hard like someone drugged him with something.
☎️Either way it's going to be a ride, because you're gonna need to catch a naked rat man running around before the sorority sisters come, or your whole bed is drenched in drool.
B = Body part (how is their body build? any favorite body part of them and their partner?)
☎️A fucking twunk, he probably was more of a twink before he met you because bitch only got small amounts of food and not that many opportunitys to build up muscles.
☎️Billy has a bit of a biceps, back muscle, and leg muscle but that's really it. He also doesn't have a lot of hair mostly a bit on his chest, crotch area and a small hair trail that bairly connects those points. If he goes all out he is also able to grow a bit arm and leg hair.
☎️Honestly I feel like this gremlin is proud of the little chest hair he has, so he really likes that area. He sometimes squeezes his man milkers and you cannot change my mind on that.
☎️Billy LOVES his s/o's thighs and chest! Big, small, doesn't matter their great (especially the thighs, their a gate way to something great).
☎️With the chest it is more of a thing that he thinks is funny, his grabby hands sometimes poke, squeeze and lightly slap them.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum)
☎️Doesn't produce a lot of cum, but it is STICKY. The cum is very white, and kinda like chewing gum. It comes in spurts and god help him this man can shoot a load meters away, he shoot his load more then he can count into his eye, and also yours.
☎️He also produces A LOT of precum
☎️It doesn't have a lot of taste, maeby a bit on the sour / bitter side???
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, do they have a dirty secret?)
☎️Billy has some kinks (???) that aren't really good for him, for example he would beg to be humiliated but after the act he will be a sobbing mess, be angry or thinks all the things his partner told him are true. Basically self destructive tendencies that he let's out with sex in an unhealthy way.
E = Experience (do they know what they're doing?)
☎️Surprisingly he kinda knows what he does, were did he got that info?? Who knows, Billy certainly can't remember, (probably watched some people geting it on or stole a porn magazine).
F = Favorite position (which position(s) do the like the most?)
☎️All positions are great positions as one confused and wise attic gremlin sayd.
☎️But in all honesty it depends on his mood so here are his top 5 in no particular order:
Kepper
Stick figure
Grasshopper
Counterblow
Valedictorian
G = Goofy (are they more serious or do the like to clown around?)
☎️This man has a hard time staying serious, there are rare moments were he stays focused while being on the mission to go to pound town. Most of the time you hear him giggle, snorting and sometimes saying random one liners that he pulls out of his ass that don't make sense to you, but he still laughs like he heard the funniest shit in the world.
H = Hair (any hair down there? How do they groom it?)
☎️The hair is quite thin and a bit curly, it's a good amount of hair but not a forest, because Billy doesn't take care of it the hair it is all over the place and can look a bit overwhelming.
☎️Billy doesn't really groom it and since it's the 70s, he also doesn't shave it
I = Intimacy (how are they during sex in a romantic aspect?)
☎️He is generally not the romantic type so don't hope for rose pedals and lit candles.
☎️When he is in a more lucid state he will give your face small and sweet kisses while he giggles happily with a manic undertone.
J = Jack off / Jill off (how do they masturbate and how often?)
☎️Before he met you? Probably almost daily. The pumps are fast and eager without a rythm and really messy.
K = Kink (any kinks?)
☎️There is almost nothing he wouldn't try at least once, Billy is an adventurous and curious guy, so I keep it down to a hand full.
☎️Dirty talk, it's either messy game with words that he repeats like a broken record or really fucking good, not in a poetic way but the filth that comes from his mouth is GOOD. But he often does it when he is more unstable, be a bit more careful around him especially if the words become messier and messier.
☎️Breeding, not in a way of wanting children, god no don't let this man near kids, he is scared of them and they are scared of him, but more in a way of wanting to see you stuffed with his cum. He may not produce a lot but he got the Stamina for that, the only question that lays in the room is, if you can keep up with him.
☎️ We all know that he is really into voyeurism, it doesn't even need to be sexual he just likes watching you. If you give him a small show he will vibrated with anticipation and pounce on you immediately.
☎️Phone sex, do I need to say anything more?? It's thrilling for him and sometimes it gets paired up with a bit of roleplay (unintentionally most of the time) , the whole act is also a great way to tease him. Just don't do it too much, he can take a bit but it's a fine line of a horny Billy and an angry Billy.
☎️There is still so much more but god dammit I will be here forever.
Edging, overstimulation, Pegging, Thigh jobs, geting his hair pulled, praise and many more!
L = Location (were do they like to have sex?)
☎️The thought of fucking you everywhere is really alluring but he mostly does it in the bed and attic. He doesn't want to risk getting caught and honestly the thought alone that people could be near gives him anxiety.
M = Motivation (what turns them on/gets them going?)
☎️Everything, you could just walk around and he could pop a boner. The guy is just really unpredictable and his moods can swing erratically which influences his horniness a lot.
☎️But if we assume he is in a more stable mindset where is squirrel brain isn't high on sugar here are a few things that always work;
Soft and sensual touches on arms and thighs
Teasing/slight tickling with fingers on the back of his neck to the end of his spine
Showing a bit more skin the usually and having direct eye contact that lingers a bit longer then the norm
Any close contact to his crotch area, the man will jump on you like a dog
N= No (what's a turn off/they don't want to do?)
☎️Getting too violent, it's more of a safety thing for your own health. He can quickly slip in a dangerous mindset, ESPECIALLY at the beginning of the relationship and I doubt you like to be the moaner's next murderer victim.
☎️Billy can't stand brats in bed it irritates him, or just any kind of attitude.
☎️He also doesn't like it if his s/o dirty talks back, when he does it it often doesn't register in his mind, so if his lovely partner does it, it kind of disgust and displeases him greatly.
O = Oral (do they like to give or receive? How is their skill? How do they react during receiving?)
☎️He LOVES to give oral, Billy could die between your legs and honestly, that's the way he wants to go. He also wouldn't say no to a blowjob and would get ecstatic with the offer (if he didn't ask demanded first).
☎️But sadly Billy isn't that skillful, he makes a lot of sloppy noises and purposely makes a mess, spit, your juices and possibly his cum will be splattered across your whole crotch area and thighs.
☎️He does well alright tho, it isn't anything special but the way he has his grabby boney fingers grab at your body restlessly and his tongue tasting every corner makes it up for any lack of knowledge he has. His tounge is also really long.
☎️You think he stays still when you go down on him?? Oooooh no, god you might have to tie his hands up. They would grab anything they can get, cushion, objects your hair ect, and the guy will pull and squeeze it like his live depends on it.
☎️He also will buck his hips into you and straight up face fucks you, ya need a lot of strength in your arms and hands if you want Billy to stay still. Also the noise he makes? For some it can be really hot but for other a huge turn of, he chokes on his own spit and the moans can sound really animalistic and loud. Either gag him or let everyone know you get hot and heavy with him. That is if anyone is in the house.
P = Pace (how is their thrusting? Hard, fast, deep ect)
☎️He goes FAST, like a bunny in heat, so you better be prepared to have some bruising from his violent thrusting.
☎️The thrust are also relatively hard but 0 rythm.
☎️ His dick also sometimes just slips out, it happened a few times that he also completely missed the targed and rams his dick full speed to your ass (and continues like a champ).
☎️And if your afab he probably "accidentally" buries his junk in the wrong whole.
Q = Quickie (do they like Quickies, if yes how often?)
☎️Yes god he loves them, he often uses them to get rid of extra energy or pent up emotions and there is A LOT , (just be a bit careful with the emotions, maeby talk it out (if you manage to have a reasonable conversation with this rat of a man) what he feels and why he wants to do it, safe words is also a good idea).
R = Risk (any risk their willing to do?)
☎️Fucking you in a room while the sorority sisters are right next to it, he would be so drowned in the bliss that he forgetshis anxiety, but if you are able to comfort him afterwards do it. He often slips into a bad and sometimesaggressivemanic state untreated. (Again,it's a mess if you don't want to get caught, gag the man).
S = Stamina (how long can they go? How long do they last?)
☎️Bitch can go all night, no joke he recovers fast and his hunger for you has no end. He may take small breaks in between the rough fucking, but I'm gonna tell ya his grip on you is like steel he won't let go of you.
T = Toys (any toys they like? If yes, what toys do they like on themselves and on their partner?)
☎️He think's their funny and definitely will mess around with them. Use as many as your kinky heart desires he will follow lead.
☎️On him? Great he waits eagerly on the bed almost jumping from the spot because he is so excited. He loves vibrators and nipple clamps, but collars are good too!
☎️On you? Lord have mercy on your poor soul because you didn't know what's coming for you. Honey you got a big storm coming. But please teach him how to use them and what feels good and what not or else he will stab your insides with a dildo.
U = Unfair (are they a tease? How do they react if teased?)
☎️Billy goes always straight to the point, but sometimes he teases which often happens without his intentions.
☎️The whole thing gets even worse when he goes down on you. This man has bairly any cohesive thoughts what makes you think that he can concentrate for a solid minute. While he is doing it his mind is already somewhere else, which makes him stop for a few seconds or slow down, or not giving the right spots the attention they need. So your agonizingly lay between the almost orgasmic feeling and under stimulation.
V = Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)
☎️Not necessarily LOUD but people will know what's going on (if you go down on him it's a whole other thing).
☎️The noises he normally makes is strangled / chocked up moans, groaning, giggling or straight up laughing and some mumbling that you for the most part don't fully hear.
W = Wild card (random nsfw headcanon(s))
☎️Billy has a thing for submissive and innocent people, it is more fun to see them react to his vulgar and partly extreme behavior. The way the Yelp when he gives them a rough handling or spurts out the most filthiest thing makes his blood boil. It just something of corrupting someone innocent, sweet and well mannered to something that can only be described as a human mess is making him more feral then he already is. Bonus points if they are covered in his cum and drool.
☎️If somehow you both manage to a a healthy relationship this man will go down your pants faster then the speed of light. And Billy gets quite upset if you say no to him.
☎️Likes to suprise his s/o with him wanking it in front of you in the worst time you can imagine. Ho? Your bringing in the groceries and are in a hurry because the ice cream will melt? Suprises Billy blocks the doorway and rubs his dick violently while having direct eye contact. If you manage to walk past him he will follow you around trying to put your hands on his dick, or even try's to get a blowjob out of you. If not well then his hand and your thighs or ass will do the job too!
☎️Loves to bite and suck on your neck it's also something that gets him going like nothing else, nobody know why but it does.
X = X-ray (what's going on under those clothes?)
☎️Not exactly fat, but he got something packing, around 6.5 inches in length and 5.3 inches in girth. The man is cut and got some thin veins here and there.
Y = Yearning (how high is their libido?)
☎️High, just say your into the mood from another room while having a mouth full of stuff and the man will go crashing down the attic before you finish your sentence even tho it was bairly understandable on what you sayd.
Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep?)
☎️It's always different one time he is knockout in a few seconds the other night he was awake for another 4 hours, it just depends on how much gymnastics you both needed to make and how bad his manic episode is.
#slashers#slasher#slasher fandom#slasher community#my writing#headcanons#slasher headcanons#ns//fw headcanon#ns//fw#billy lenz#black christmas#black christmas 1974#phew that was a lot#or at least it feels that way#gender neutral s/o#mention of afab#gender neutral reader#billy lenz x reader#billy lenz x s/o
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You know what I am really fucking tired of seeing in popular media?
The "evil, hysterical woman in power" trope. The clichè that potrays women who are in a position of power as overzealous, unhinged, power hungry maniacs who are a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
Female leaders are shown as less resonable and down to earth as their male counterparts, and are often villainized by either the fandom or the narrative of the story itself. They are doomed to fail because of their womanliness and need to be taken down before they enact their evil plans, preferably by a man, or a woman who performs the 'right' kind of femininity.
This trope relies on the sexist misconception that women are more fragile than men, more emotionally unstable and unpredictable.
"Women aren't cut out to be leaders, they should be nurturing and supportive and tend to their families. Having higher aspirations is against their nature and will eventually break them and drive them crazy."
That type of bullshit that was designed to keep women out of leadership positions and keep oppressing us. To keep us quiet and submissive.
Here are a few examples to further explain this stereotype:
Daenerys Targaryen is one of the most well known characters to fall victim to this trope. She is an abuse and rape victim, seeking to change the current social and political systems of the world because she knows how many people suffer under its injustice. ("Crush the wheel.")
For all her compassion and charity she has shown over the series, the writers decided that it would be reasonable for her to go crazy at the end of the show and, despite promising she wouldn't inflict more damage than necessary, kill thousands of innocent people whose government had already surrendered to her.
And guess who had to kill her in the end? Yup, another man. Her love interest, who was "forced" to betray her.
Next, we have:
Morgana Pendragon, from "Merlin". To remind you, she is an abuse victim who had to endure her father's controlling behavior and bigoted attitude towards people with magic abilities which, suprise suprise, she turned out to have. She had to watch as her father murdered and oppressed people just like herself, and when she challenged that behavior, he would come down hard with punishment. (Going so far as to actually throwing her in the dungeons for a couple days.)
Eventually, she rebelled against the corrupt system and had her genocidal father killed. She led a rebellion against Camelot after Uther's son (Arthur) continued to oppress magicians under his reign, and sought to create a better future for herself and her people.
So far so good, right? Well, no. The problem here is that she is the antagonist of the story. She is portrayed as being in the wrong for not quietly taking the injustice and watching it happen.
Halfway through the show, she becomes obsessed with power and status and desperately chases after the throne of Camelot. She is extremly vindictive, manipulative and cruel to others to archieve her goals. She is a "hysterical woman" who is out of control, emotionally unstable, challenges the patriarchy, and therefore needs to be defeated.
Her death was portrayed as tragic, yet absolutely necessary.
(Of course it had to be a man who killed her.)
Azula is the epitome of this horrid, misogynistic trope. She is a fierce, ambitious leader and highly skilled fire bender, respected and feared among her people. She is highly driven and succeeds at almost everything she sets her mind to.
Ever since she came into this world, she was better at everything than Zuko. She was a better fighter than him, a better bender, better strategist, better child. And that is precisely the reason why she had to lose in the end.
Despite coming from the exact same circumstances as Zuko, the story and the fandom at large see Azula as way less redemable and likable than him. Even though she is an abuse victim whose own mother hated her and is a literal child soldier, she doesn't get any sympathy from the protagonists of the story. The otherwise so understanding and wise Iroh even calls her "crazy", (which is, if you've done some basic research into misogynistic expressions, really fucking problematic.) and tells Zuko that there is no saving her. Why? He doesn't tell, but it's obvious that the writers made him say this because of their own internalized sexist beliefs. She isn't offered a way out of her toxic environment like Zuko was. She didn't get the support from Iroh because he had already given up on her.
To top it off, she has a nervous breakdown near the end and loses her remaining sanity. Because, you know, "She's craaaazy!! And SO unstable!! Typical woman." (Not to mention how this further stigmatizes mental illness and portrays it as something only evil people get.)
She was supposed to become the next fire lord, a position that carries utmost power and influence. Of course, such authority could not be given to a woman. That's why Zuko, a man, gets to be the next fire lord, and we are left assuming Azula will be spending the rest of her days in prison.
The writers assume the audience detests Azula and wants her to suffer. She doesn't deserve a happy ending, or the love and support that Zuko got.
Why? Because she poses a threat to the status quo, the patriarchy. She challenged the belief that men had to be the best and most efficient at everything they do, that women could indeed be better leaders and be happy with having a career and not be nurturing, motherly figures to the men in their lives. And for that transgression, for breaking gender stereotypes, Azula was punished.
(It's also why Katara, someone who performs the "right" kind of femininity by being nurturing, motherly, supportive, healing, doting, and is the care taker of the group, ends up taking Azula, the evil and perverted form of femininity, down. I believe @batboyblog has made a similar post about this.)
This is Carmilla from the popular Netflix show "Castlevania", and if you've payed attention to my previous points, it should be pretty obvious what her character represents and how her story ends.
Note that she is also an abuse and rape survivor who is represented as evil and cruel for being angry at what was done to her.
To top it off, she is also an example of the man hating woman stereotype, whose anger at the misogyny and sexism of the world is portrayed as an "overreaction" and as "too much".
At the end of the story, she had to be taken down by another man (Isaac) so that the status quo could be preserved, and the reign of a crazy bitch like her could be stopped. Horay, the day is saved from yet another unstable, selfish woman who would have brought suffering and pain over her country if allowed to rule. Hysterical women with their demand for equality.
Conclusion:
In all these examples, we can see female abuse victims thriving for power and status, for respect, being represented as something negative and something to avoid. Trying to fundamentally change a system that is rigged against women/female representing people is a fruitless endevour that will eventually fail and drive us crazy, because our minds aren't strong enough to handle this type of responsibility and status.
Holding on to anger and bitterness over what was done to us is the sign of a bad person, and the only morally acceptable path is to forgive/ignore our abusers and let the injustice continue to happen.
Strangely enough though, that same gaslighting, victim blaming mentality gets almost never applied to male characters. Men who seek vengeance are never portrayed as weak or crazy for giving in to the wish of changing a corrupt system/killing bad people. (Batman, the Punisher, Hawkeye, John Wick, Jason Todd, Erin, Scar from FMAB, Iron Man, and so on)
The reason why these stereotypes almost never apply to men but almost always to women is sexism. There is no other explanation for this. These tropes were specifically designed to make society believe that women aren't cut out for leadership positions and are happiest with domestic, easy tasks like watching after our children and taking care of the household.
Women who are angry, women who are dominant are to be feared and distrusted. They are represented as a danger to the general public and need to be taken down before they enact their evil plans.
Feel free to add further examples.
#got#game of thrones#daenerys targeryan#merlin#morgana pendragon#castlevania#carmilla castlevania#carmilla karnstein#trevor belmont#atla#azula#atla azula#zuko#uncle iroh#katara#john snow#I was thinking of adding sylvanas windrunner#but her story isn't finished yet#though I think we all know that Blizzard is a misogynistic piece of shit whose creative team are sleazy scumbags to women#sexism#misogynistic#tw abuse#abuse#tw rape#rape#victim blaming#gaslighting#tw blood#tw death#vampires
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severus snape was not just a bully he was a literal racist and that did not change over the years unlike other characters' attitudes 🙏🙏🙏 what the fuck how are you pro-snape
hmmm. i feel there's an extremely back-handed compliment here. are you a lurker? are we mutuals? do i follow you or do you follow me? whatever the capacity, it feels silly to ask, but: are you new here? my bio, though novella in length because keeping things in a tiny, succinct packages is not my forte, clearly states at some point that Severus Snape is important enough to me to be mentioned a considerable amount. i'll be very sad if i follow you & enjoy the content you post because tbh this anon is super disappointing. the most common types i tend to receive are snaters who are too cowardly to tell me to my face they have nothing better to do than judge people doing the least harmful thing imaginable: loving/liking/appreciating a controversial, FICTIONAL FUCKING CHARACTER.
"he was a literal racist and that did not change over the years unlike the other characters' attitudes" ummm fucking WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. what canon evidence do you have for this except your own warped headcanons?? Snape said the word "mudblood" fucking ONCE, as a teenage boy, while getting sexually assaulted by more than one person, in public, with no one there attempting to stop them. then Snape's one friend tries to defend him & Snape snaps something stupid because he was afraid & pissed off & ashamed. don't tell me YOU'VE never said something you're later ashamed of while in a temper or feeling cornered. don't tell me YOU'RE not allowed to make mistakes. that's right, it was a mistake, & he realized immediately so he tried to fix it & in the end his friendship wasn't worth it to her so he was alone, surrounded by people who won't help him, who let some other teenage boys get away with attempted murder, & adults who don't give a shit about him making him ripe for plucking. Snape fucking CRINGES then yells at Phineas Nigellus for calling Hermione that while the trio's on the run & Snape is an unwilling headmaster!!! have you forgotten this???? if anyone is racist it's Molly Weasley for her treatment of Fleur which was never given a legit reason why she behaved the way she did. i don't even want to try to count how many times Draco Malfoy calls Hermione a mudblood; are you harassing people with hateful anons for liking Draco? is he somehow more deserving of a redemption than Severus? if you think that, go fuck yourself.
Severus Snape made a mistake when he was very young. he was alone, traumatized, full of bitterness & anger. he first came over to the side of the light for selfish reasons but then so did Regulus & Narcissa & i never see people attacking THEM. Snape made a mistake & worked to atone for this & for 17 years most take for granted he was the puppet for two megalomaniacal masters, neither of whom gave a damn about his life (Dumbledore was worse in SO many ways). in the end, it seems like snaters feel like no matter what you do, no matter what is in your heart & everything you do to try to make it right, your mistake will always define you & death is all you deserve soduspsjapxjosn FUCK THIS SHIT. FUCK ANYONE WHO BELIEVES THIS.
"Severus Snape was not just a bully" yeah you're right he was also honorable, good-at-heart, brave as fuck, fucking brilliant, & while sharp-edged, was dryly hilarious. also, don't you get tired of this same fucking "argument"?? because Snape wasn't the only bully in canon. Molly Weasley is one. so is Dumbledore. so is Hermione. so is Draco, Crabbe, & Goyle. SO WERE THE MARAUDERS. Peter Pettigrew turned out to be one of the worst; do you ever anonymously bully anyone for liking them if they do? while not counting for taste, if anyone DOES like his character, IT'S NOT. MY FUCKING. BUSINESS. nobody is hurting me for liking that character. i am not hurting YOU for liking a character. it's just easier for you to pull this fucking performative, fake-woke, absolutely repulsive purity-culture enabling bullshit than to speak up about things that fucking ACTUALLY MATTER.
do you want to know some characters i like that are ACTUALLY disturbing/toxic/any negative thing you can think of?? i like Acton from the Doyle & Acton New Scotland Yard book series by Anne Cleeland & he is a LITERAL FUCKING STALKER who plays vigilante & takes advantage of his privilege to get away with his crimes lmao. i like Father Konstantin from the Winternight Trilogy even though (or maybe because of is more accurate) he's a younger, prettier, blonder Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame with his behavior towards Vasya who is very much an Esmeralda parallel. it drew me in immediately, their dynamic in that trilogy; so poisonous & twisted & depraved was his obsession with her but it was so PASSIONATE i couldn't look away. i like Krennic from Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. if you've seen it, he's the smol, angry man who thinks seeing a planet with historical Jedi sites get destroyed by a previously unknown super weapon is BEAUTIFUL. he has no qualms against forcing someone against his will back to helping to build this weapon, even if it meant killing his family.
so there are just a few that i can think of at the moment who are considerably darker than mere shades of grey; do you send hateful anons to people who like Darth Vader? what about Sauron? Morgoth? what if someone likes VOLDEMORT?????? omg (spoiler alert: they exist, & some have created some of the best hp fanart i've seen, but that's not the point right now). do you attack people for liking other morally grey characters like Kylo Ren/Ben Solo or Lestat? snaters are pathetic. if you don't like Snape, that's perfectly fine; it would just be really cool if you can take your toxic, purity culture mentality & if unable to shove it up your ass at least go haunt the places dedicated to bland, rich white boy bully-loving spaces. go on with your horrid belief that all people who are enduring trauma are only allowed to process/handle it in a set way otherwise they are the Worst Person To Exist (or... not, in this instance, seeing as Severus Snape is a FICTIONAL. FUCKING. CHARACTER). do you not realize this says so much to people in your own life who may see some similarities between themselves & a character you believe makes you a superior entity for hating & judging?? do you not give people you care about another chance after making a mistake???
i'd rather continue loving this prickly, snarky asshole than attempt to "earn your good opinion" or some fucking similar codswallop thank you VERY much. cheerio & all that, & i hope you're able to find something to do you enjoy that doesn't involve judging people for things that really don't matter. if you have an issue with what i post you can always unfollow/block me. complicated controversial comfort characters make for better things to think about than fake wokeness. toodles~
#anon#Snape#Professor Snape#Severus Snape#gtfo snaters#this is not a marauder safe space#there WILL be marauder bashing#i love my feral northern boy#i love my fav morally grey characters#Acton#Lord Acton#Doyle and Acton#Anne Cleeland#Father Konstantin#Vasya#The Winternight Trilogy#Krennic#Orson Krennic#Rogue One#Rogue One A Star Wars Story#Ben Solo#Kylo Ren#pro Ben Solo#pro Kylo Ren#anons like these are the epitome of cowardice#gtfo with your asinine purity culture#morally gret character supremacy
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So I have a question, I couldn't stop thinking about it especially with the new chapter (which was sooo good)
What would happen if y/n was killed by someone or something else? Like another human and they just dumped her body into the ocean to get rid of her or if another siren managed to grab her? I feel like he'd be so angry and... empty. Sorry this is so random but I can't stop thinking about what would happen! What do you think?
Thank you!
If it was a human, it would add to a very, very long list of grievances that he has with the surface world and would likely drive him into a blood-lustful haze. He'd probably go on overkill mode, killing everything he sees- no matter how big or small- and attacking boats in a self destructive rampage and basically just trying to rack up his kill count with extremely violent and bloody tallies. It would either end with him dying, or the more likely event that he tires himself out and leaves the area entirely and doesn't return. I think at this point, it would leave behind a hollowness and a bitterness that would stay with him for a long time and he would basically go back to self-imposed isolation until his voice starts to crack again from disuse. He would think of her for a very long time with a mix of loathing and longing, and it would go a long way toward killing what little 'humanity' he has left.
He would likely take her body back somewhere sacred to himself and keep it until it decayed entirely and he would literally have an altar of her bones.
As a parting gift, he would likely be able to find the human who committed the murder (given too long hasn't passed) and commit extreme and gratuitous violence. I doubt there'd be a real semblance of the person left, and he would refuse to eat them because he doesn't need that part of them inside of himself.
I doubt another Siren would stand a chance against him, and he has a way of knowing if one of his kind is near. He'd definitely keep an eye on them to ensure nothing like that happened, but on the off-chance he fucks around, he'd rip them apart just the same.
What he feels for her at this moment, as it stands, isn't exactly love, but it's starting to fall into that preemptive obsession that comes before. He doesn't understand love or anything about it, but he knows he wants her, he just can't really discern what kind of want it is.
When he falls in love fully, however, if she were to die...
That's a different story.
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So I just read your answer to an ask about Pre-fall Genji and Mercy (The one where Genji watches Mercy fly in the practice range/Moira berates Genji while healing him or smthn) and I love it! Any chance we could get a short follow-up where Genji (eventually) tells Mercy what happened on the mission/what happened coming back from the mission?
Ah, referring back to this fic?
Well the thing about Moira is that in my fic continuity, the cover story for Moira is that Overwatch pushed her to resign after that scandal with her paper, and her involvement with Blackwatch was kept largely secret, even from Mercy, up until my pre-retribution fic. So when Moira was a problem for Genji, he couldn’t really talk about it with Mercy due to Overwatch and Blackwatch’s own fucked up compartmentalization. So after Retribution there was a bit of an elephant in the room. Also Genji’s comments during Retribution and Reyes going “The Ninja agrees with me!” are.... oof. And... whoops the “let me explain what happened/clearing the air” prompt turned into an argument.
Welp. Not all those late-night chats were easy...
----
The knock on the door of the lab caught Mercy mid-yawning stretch. It was still early in the evening at Zurich headquarters, lavender twilight light bleeding over the mountain peaks out her window. Still early enough for it to be pretty much anyone who let this work chew up as much of their personal life as hers. Ana, she thought, heading to the door, About the updated humanitarian projects in Giza, probably. Or maybe Sarioglu about the inoculations on the Siberian--
The door slid open and Genji was standing before her in a loose gray long-sleeved shirt, not his usual Blackwatch hoodie. His arms were folded against himself, his shoulders tucked slightly inwards. He stood up a little straighter as the door opened.
“Doctor Ziegler,” he said her name almost with some surprise, as if she had suddenly materialized in front of him rather than been working in the same lab they had spent countless nights chatting in before.
“...It’s been a while, Genji,” she tried to make her voice warm, but wasn’t sure what he was here for. The dust was almost beginning to settle from the Venice incident, but she had seen virtually nothing of him since that painful exchange in the rec room. The Venice incident itself was still being picked over in longer term publications, and it would definitely keep giving all the news outlets investigative journalism fodder for months to come, but Blackwatch was suspended and a significant amount of its resources had been re-allocated to other Overwatch departments for the duration of its suspension, which was enough for most news outlets to let it drift to the side in favor of more recent events.
There were a few seconds where he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he said, “I can go if you’re busy--” He wasn’t making eye contact.
“N-no--” her fingers tensed on the doorframe, “I mean...” she moved aside slightly, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”
His eyes met hers and softened for.a few seconds before he caught himself and shuffled into the room, as if the offer might be rescinded. As he had gotten more used to his prosthetics and more settled in with Blackwatch, he had come to carry himself with what some might call grace--a grace that was heavily overshadowed and sharpened by the smoldering anger in his eyes and asymmetry of his prosthetics, but a grace that still spoke to his years of physical and mental conditioning with the Shimada clan. Now, however, his movements were smaller, clumsier even---reminding her almost of their early days of physical therapy and his flinching self-containment, the way he would shrink inside hoodies and skulk in corners.
“So... what are you up to tonight?” he asked, looking around the lab.
“Just some correspondence,” Mercy shrugged, “There’s... been a lot.”
Piles and piles of emails from former colleagues and activists furious at the fact that I continue to associate myself with Overwatch after this scandal, she thought, And maybe I could deal with them all by releasing a personal statement, but how much of that would just come off as me trying to save face while throwing Overwatch under the bus?
“Not about Venice?” Genji stiffened a little where he stood
“Yes, about Venice,” she folded her arms, her gaze was steady and tired.
“But---that’s not fair. Nothing we did there had anything to do with you--” Genji was genuinely confused.
“Blackwatch is still Overwatch’s responsibility,” said Mercy, “And if there was evidence of weaponized biotics on site, naturally people have questions for me and, of course,” a huffing, uncomfortable chuckle escaped her, “Everything I stand for in working for Overwatch.”
Genji’s thick eyelashes lowered over the red of his eyes in a combination of frustration and guilt. “I... meant to talk to you about that when I got back...”
Mercy’s shoulders slumped as she turned back to her chair and sat down in it.
“How long was Moira on your team?” she said quietly.
“She... joined about two months after Jack made her tender her resignation,” said Genji, “I was with Reyes the night he recruited her.”
Mercy’s lips thinned and she wasn’t looking at him. “So... how did it work? Would she just... cartoonishly avoid being seen by hiding behind vending machines? Dipping around corners?”
“I never actually saw much of her in Zurich or Rome. Reyes usually had her working remotely at a black site. The attack on Rome forced us to bring her into Zurich for her own safety and for our response to the attack.”
“So the resignation was all just theater to put her somewhere where she would have even less oversight and accountability,” Mercy’s lips were pulling back from her teeth in frustration.
“I... don’t really know the specifics of it,” said Genji.
Mercy was silent at this, sitting with her hands in her lap.
“Angela,” he said her name and she looked up at him, “Believe me, if it weren’t for Blackwatch’s procedures, I would have told you. There were so many times I wanted to tell you---”
So many times I wanted you to help... he thought.
“Jack knew?” Mercy said quietly.
“He knew, to an extent,” said Genji, “To be fair, even McCree and I didn’t really know what she was doing at the black site... I suppose we also didn’t want to know.”
“And everyone’s been letting her tinker with my biotics doing god-knows-what to them and then leaving that ugly smear of what was once my work at the site of an act of--of---I don’t know what to call it--Extrajudicial murder?”
“Angela...” he brought up his prosthetic hand, apparently with the intention of putting it on her shoulder, but seemed to think better of it and drew it close to himself, “If I had known Reyes’s actions would impact you like this---”
“So Reyes’s actions are only wrong because they’re negatively impacting me,” said Mercy flatly, “Not because, I don’t know, it’s utterly horrific to shoot someone in the face while in the process of making an arrest?”
Genji was taken slightly aback by her bitterness. Then again... there was a decent chance she had been dealing with whatever angry emails from people all over the world who wanted her to answer for Blackwatch’s actions for several days now. But Blackwatch did the right thing, didn’t it?
“Antonio’s weapons trafficking with Talon was probably killing far more people than that...” Genji floated the words out there, assuming they might calm her down, “If it meant stopping him--”
“’Probably?’” Mercy’s voice was incredulous. She huffed, trying to process, “That-that’s not how this works, Genji. That’s not how the law is supposed to work. You don’t kill people on ‘Probablies!’”
“The law wouldn’t have worked with him anyway. He bragged that he had allies who would get him out within the week.”
“That doesn’t mean you kill him!”
“I didn’t kill him, Reyes did! I just--!” Genji huffed, the sound was metallic behind his faceplate, “Look, the Shimada clan are weapons traffickers, too. I know what kind of person we were dealing with.”
“It doesn’t matter what kind of person he is, what matters is the proper procedures! If Overwatch can’t hold itself to those standards, then we can’t call ourselves peacekeepers!”
“Reyes brought me on the team because I’m an assassin,” Genji’s voice was unsettlingly even.
“You were brought on the team because you have unique intel and skills---”
“From being raised to be an assassin,” there was a smoldering frustration in Genji now, stepping toward Mercy, “Don’t confuse what you want me to be with what I am.”
Mercy seemed to visibly wince at this. She glared up into his red eyes, her own gray-blue eyes bloodshot from staring at her screens. “Don’t confuse who you are with what’s convenient for Reyes,” she said darkly, “If you don’t see anything wrong with what Reyes did, then Jack suspending Blackwatch was the best call he could make.”
Genji’s skin was burning with fury beneath his faceplate. “Oh and I’m just supposed to sit on my hands and watch the Shimada clan continue to kill people because Blackwatch has to be suspended for Reyes’ mistake.”
“Yes, Genji! That’s how accountability works!” Mercy was wringing her hands.
“So you’re willing to let--You weren’t-- you have no idea what I-- You--!” Genji was stumbling over his words, his anger seemed to be mashing the ability to translate in his head down into an angry pulp of Japanese with a few english swear words peppered in. He took a sharp seething inhale. “You know what? I’m leaving.”
“Fine!” Mercy threw the word after him as he turned on his heel and stepped out the door of the lab.
He snarled with frustration beneath his faceplate as he quickly walked down the hall. Folding his arms tight across himself as he stepped into the elevator.
She doesn’t know, she wasn’t there so she has no right to talk about it like... Genji’s organic fingers squeezed on his prosthetic arm, Like...
He took another breath. Fine, he thought, It’s fine. I’m sick of her acting like I’m anything other than... he looked at his prosthetic hand and realized he was shaking. He closed his fingers into a fist before stepping out of the elevator, still walking, angrily and quickly through the Blackwatch offices towards his own quarters. save for the small lights lining the pathways between desks and offices, Blackwatch was virtually pitch-black.
“Trouble in paradise?” a low melodious voice sounded across the underground offices and Genji flinched to see Moira barely illuminated by the multiple screens of Reyes’s main intel computer, holding a tablet in one hand and a lowball glass of whiskey in the other. She was donning that horn-like reverse biofeed, apparently lazily scrolling through some lab work. Shouldn’t the UN have seized it with the suspension? thought Genji.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Genji said curtly before continuing to walk.
“Personally I like when she gets all sanctimonious while Overwatch is actively screwing her over,” Moira looked back down at her tablet before sipping her whiskey. Genji stopped walking. “Reminds me of those little dogs yapping on the ends of leashes, and then their owners just get tired of them and scoop them up... and there’s a life story in 10 seconds. No power to begin with and all you can do is bark and bark--”
“If you talk about Doctor Ziegler like that again, you’ll--” Genji caught himself.
“Ah. So you were haunting her door,” Moira’s eyebrows raised with some amusement.
“You don’t know,” said Genji, stiffly.
“I know you’re easy to read,” said Moira, not even looking up from her tablet, “And I know we’re all slaves to habit. So what happened?”
“Nothing I’m sharing with you,” said Genji walking forward.
“That’s fine,” Moira kept scrolling through her tablet as Genji walked past her.
She was only a few steps behind him when she spoke up again. “I understand how deeply it stings, when you realize you’re not the person someone built up in their head.”
Genji paused again, his shoulders bunching up, and he glanced back at her.
“But I’ve also always had great admiration for those who know exactly who and what they are. I like to think it’s why Blackwatch was as efficacious as it was.... despite... some personality clashes,” she gave an easy shrug.
Genji was silent for a few seconds. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m only saying that you have my sympathy for finally understanding the difference between those up there,” she nodded up to the ceiling, to the upper levels of Overwatch, “And those of us down here.”
Something prickled in Genji then. He remembered the weight of his father’s hands on his shoulders, saying, You have to understand, this is who we are. And Genji tensed then.
“You’re not alone, Genji, that’s all I’m saying,” said Moira, sipping her whiskey.
“Good night, Moira,” was all Genji managed to say as he walked off.
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Whumptober #6
Red Hood - #6 - Bruises
*
Jason Todd wasn’t surprised when someone landed on the roof next to him.
He’d been waiting for this for hours. Ever since he’d first heard the reports of the death going out. It was almost a relief to hear the footsteps heading towards him. He’d rather get this over with already.
He was, however, surprised when he turned and saw who was actually there.
“Well,” he said after a beat of silence. “That explains why I haven’t heard righteous yelling yet.”
“I may have misled him.” Tim sat next to Jason. “What happened, Jason?”
“I killed a man. Thought the news report summed it up pretty nicely,” Jason said.
Tim shook his head. “There’s always more to it. You don’t just kill for the hell of it.”
“Does it matter? Guy could’ve been strangling a baby and Bruce will still tell me I’m wrong,” Jason said.
Tim shot him a look. The mask covered his eyes, but Jason had been on the receiving end of this look enough times to mentally picture the way his eyes were narrowed right now.
“I’m not Bruce,” he said, a little sharply. “I’m not judging you when I don’t even know what happened, Jason.”
Jason wanted to pull his helmet back on, but he knew that would be too obvious. Tim didn’t need to see his face to read his emotions, anyway. He knew Jason too well.
Instead, Jason looked out over Gotham. “He took a hostage while he was robbing the jewelry store.”
“That’s what the news report said,” Tim said. “The hostage hasn’t been identified, though.”
“Probably because she was just a little kid,” Jason said, tensing up at the memory of those big, scared eyes filling with tears as a gun was pressed to her head. “I’m guessing it was traumatic enough without the press hounding the family.”
“You’ve rescued hostages without killing before,” Tim said.
“Yea, well, I know a panicked man when I see one. I distracted him long enough for the cops to arrive. I could tell, Tim. I knew he was going to shoot her. He knew he wasn’t getting out of there, hostage or no hostage. So I shot him first.” He could still hear the little girl’s screams echoing in his ears as blood had splattered against her from her captor.
But he’d saved her life. He knew he had. He’d seen the look in that thief’s eyes. The look of a man ready to take out everyone he could, because he refused to go down alone. The girl might not have even been the only victim if Jason hadn’t acted.
He wasn’t some cold-blooded killer. He took in the dark sight of Gotham and grit his teeth. This city needed more than the fear of Batman. Fear wasn’t stopping them. Fear wouldn’t have saved that little girl’s life. Hell, fear is what put it in danger in the first place.
He heard someone else land on the roof. Tim blew out a breath beside him.
“Red Robin. You lied to me.”
“It’s me you’re after. Leave him alone,” Jason said without turning to the low, angry voice behind him.
His arm was grabbed. Jason allowed himself to be yanked to his feet, if only because he knew struggling would be pointless.
“Hear him out first, Batman,” Tim insisted.
No. Jason knew the righteous Batman wouldn’t hear him out. He’d just let Jason clean up problems around Gotham and then chide him for it when it went public.
“You murdered someone,” Bruce said, his grip tight on Jason’s arm. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“‘Stop this thief from shooting up innocents’ mostly,” Jason said.
Bruce shook him roughly. “This isn’t funny, Jason. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Could be the lingering trauma from the whole being tortured and murdered thing,” Jason offered.
Bruce’s grip was tight enough now to make Jason wince. “I want you out of Gotham.”
“Until the next bad guy you want off the streets comes around, right?” Jason shot back. “Then I’ll be welcome with open arms. Or, well, you’ll at least look the other way until the media makes that impossible.”
“He was trying to protect a child,” Tim said, taking a cautious step towards the two of them. “He’s not some unhinged killer, Batman. You know that.”
“Do I?” Bruce snarled.
Jason tensed in his grip. “Yea, guess that would be a hard call to make when you’re constantly kicking me out of the family, huh? You know what? Gotham’s all yours, Bruce. Murderers and all. You can look the next little girl’s parents in the eyes and tell them she had to die for your fucking sketchy moral code.”
He hissed in pain at Bruce’s grip, trying to yank his arm free. Bruce fixed him with an all too familiar glare.
“Jason-”
“I’m not better than this, Bruce. I know what I am. And I know I’m better than what you think I am. But I don’t regret putting a bullet in that guy’s head. Rather him than the kid,” Jason said. “I’ll be gone by the morning. Go back to tossing criminals in Arkham so they can be back on the streets by next week.”
Bruce finally released his arm. He regarded Jason for a moment before turning his back on him.
Jason clenched his fists, so tired of that sight. But he kept his mouth shut as Bruce left him and Tim alone on the roof. Bruce would never accept what Jason did, even when it benefitted him.
Tim stepped up to Jason and took his arm, pushing his sleeve up. He grimaced.
Jason looked down at his own arm. Bruises in the shape of Bruce’s fingers were already forming on his arm.
“Hell of a parting gift,” he muttered, pushing Tim away and tugging his sleeve down. “Well, I’ve got to head out before Gotham’s caped crusader throws me out by force. I’ve got enough bruises for one night.”
Tim opened his mouth like he was going to try and offer comfort. Jason was grateful when he just shut his mouth and nodded.
“Jason?” he said as Jason turned away from him. “I trust your call.”
“Too bad you don’t call the shots around here, Drake,” Jason said, pulling his helmet on. “I’m sure I’ll be running the gutters here again before you know it. Keep an eye on the obituaries so you know when I’m back in town, since I’m obviously so bloodthirsty.”
He bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter.
“Let me know when you’re somewhere safe.”
Jason didn’t trust himself to speak again at those words. He leapt to a lower roof and began to make his way across the city, cast out from the streets he’d only ever tried to protect.
Jason touched his arm, wincing at how tender it was. He wrapped his fingers around the spot Bruce had left the bruises, squeezing until a little jolt of pain ran along his arm.
Jason looked out at the city as he heard police sirens wailing in the distance. He turned his head away, applying pressure to the bruises again to get himself moving.
He wasn’t wanted here. For now, the Red Hood would leave Batman to rule these streets. And when he was needed, he’d come back. He’d pay the price of coming back again and again, be it bruises or death, because regardless of what Batman thought, Jason cared about the fate of Gotham.
*
Anyways I’m really frustrated with the way DC writes Jason and Bruce the past decade so have this
#whumptober2021#no.6#bruises#fandom#fic#red hood#jason todd#tim drake#bruce wayne#My writing#jtdoeswhumptober
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Nightingale's Song - Chapter 16
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Anna Charles (OFC)
Warnings: nope
A/N: This is the end. Finally.
***
It had been just over a week since Anna met with the Doctor. Slightly less than four days since he quit talking. He, along with the information he’d provided, had been turned over to SHIELD. Even with the man who haunted her nightmares no longer on the premises, Anna still didn’t want to be alone.
Instead, she clung to her friends. Sam didn’t want to have anything to do with her and she tried not to be hurt when he’d give her a disgusted look and leave the room when she came in. But the others seemed to know what she needed and were happy to provide it. Steve, of course, was there more than anyone. Always making sure he was right beside her anytime they were in a room together.
Bucky no longer avoided or ignored her, but he sure wasn’t talking to her either. He’d sit at one side of the room, his gaze following her as she moved. His eyes never leaving her as she curled under Tony’s arm or leaned into Steve’s side. He worked a muscle in his jaw as he watched the way his best friend and his best girl seemed to flow together. The way they anticipated each other’s needs. The way they seemed to no longer need him.
Unable to watch any more, Bucky pushed himself up from the chair and stormed off to his room. It wasn’t long before there was a knock at his door. He answered it and frowned when he found Steve on the other side. “What do you want?”
Steve crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. “I want you to quit acting like a jackass but I suppose that’s too much to ask for.”
Bucky just looked at him without saying anything. He didn’t want to deal with this shit. Especially not from Steve the traitor.
“You haven’t said a word to her in months. Until this week, you barely even looked at her when you were in the same room. We rescued her from that facility and the first words she says are that you’re alive. She makes a plan to save your dumb ass before she’s even given herself time to adjust to not being a prisoner any more. Even after all this time, you were her priority. Meanwhile, you don’t give a shit about her.”
Bucky shoved Steve out of the doorway and down the hall. “Don’t,” he all but growled.
Steve planted his feet so Bucky couldn’t push him any further once they reached the wide space where the hall dumped out into the living room. “Don’t what, Buck? Don’t tell you that while you and I got to sleep away most of the past 70 years, she didn’t? Don’t tell you the ways she resisted them so they wouldn’t hurt you? Or maybe don’t remind you that you promised her forever and your forever seems to have an expiration date?”
“Don’t pretend that you have any idea how I feel about her. Don’t even begin to think that you have any idea what it’s like to murder the person that means the most to you. All the shit I did, all the blood on my hands and that’s the one thing I can’t live with. I won’t. She deserves so much better than that. Than me.” Bucky’s words were sharp, angry and hot tears ran down his face.
Steve sighed. “That wasn’t you. That was them. She knows that. Everyone seems to know that but you. And she doesn’t want anyone other than you, but if she did are you really going to be able to stand back and watch it happen?”
Bucky gestured angrily. “It already is happening. You think I don’t see the way you two are always touching? Your little jokes and private conversations? I’m not an idiot.”
“You are the biggest idiot on the planet if you honestly think that Anna and I are anything more than friends. We love each other like family, Bucky. I’m there for her because she needs someone. She’s scared and touch-starved and hurting. She wants you, but since you’ve made it clear she can’t have that, she turns to the rest of us. Me more than anyone because of our history.” Steve had lost his anger, now the only thing left in his tone was an overwhelming amount of sadness. “At the very least, talk to her. She doesn’t understand what she did wrong.”
Bucky’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “She didn’t do anything. She could never—”
Steve held up his hands to cut the other man off. “It’s not me you have to convince, Buck.”
***
Anna had retired to her floor not long after Bucky stomped off. She was just so tired of always having to keep it together. His repeated rejection of her was slowly killing her inside. At the moment she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and cry for three days straight. All the things Hydra had done to her paled in comparison to her losing Bucky for the second time. The irony that his rejection may prove to be far more permanent than his death wasn’t lost on her.
She forced herself to have a sandwich with a glass of milk. After cleaning up her dishes, she headed to her room only be stopped on the way by the sound of the elevator arriving on her floor. She rolled her eyes and turned toward the sound fully expecting it to be Steve. When Bucky stepped out instead, Anna sucked in a much needed breath.
Tears instantly flooded her eyes and she shoved them away. Not now. Not yet. “Lost?” The bitterness in her tone surprised her.
He chuckled. “No, I’m not lost though I guess I deserve that.” He gestured to the living room. “Can we sit?”
She shrugged but made her way over to sit on the sofa. Once he’d settled, she angled her body to face him better. “What is this, Bucky?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “This thing with us…me not talking to you, that’s on me. Not you.”
“Sure, I’d buy that if you were the same way with everyone else. But you’re not. You’re only that way with me and you should be more comfortable with me than everyone else. Just explain it to me, please.”
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. “We’re not a good fit you and I. Things have changed. We’ve changed. It’s time to stop pretending like this will work.”
She let the silence stretch as she counted to ten in her head. “Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?” Bucky said, looking offended.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” She got to her feet and glared at him, fists clenched at her sides. She was so tired of this. So damned tired of everything. “You know damn well that we’re perfect together. We were when you proposed and we still are. So tell me what your problem is?” She was yelling by the end.
Bucky stood. His whole body trembled with his anger. “I. Killed. You. What part of that don’t you understand? I slit your throat because they told me to. I left you to bleed out on the floor and I didn’t even care. You should be terrified of me.” A tear escaped his eye to run down his cheek and her heart clenched. “You should hate me.”
She stepped toward him slowly, afraid he’d run off if she moved too fast. When she’d closed the distance between them, she ran her gaze over him. This was the closest she’d been to him in decades. She rested her hand against his cheek and he sucked in a breath. His eyes slipped closed and he leaned into her touch. His hand lifted to hers and held onto her wrist.
Her thumb traced his cheek and she stepped forward leaving only inches between them. “I could never hate you, Buck. Not in a million years.”
His free hand settled at her waist and pulled her into him. He released her wrist and moved his hand to settle against the side of her neck as he looked into her eyes. “I am so fucking sorry, Anna. For everything. I can never tell you how sorry I am.”
“I’ll accept your apology for ignoring me. For never coming home to me in the first place, but that’s the only thing you need to apologize for. The rest of that wasn’t you. I never once thought it was.”
He wrapped her in his arms, holding her head against his chest as he gave her the embrace that was seventy years overdue. “I love you so much, Nightingale. God knows I don’t deserve you, but I need you. I’ll never leave you again. I swear it.”
She leaned back to smile at him, ignoring the happy tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’ll hold you to that, soldier.” Then she pressed her lips to his. And as his fingers flexed against her and he tried to pull her even closer, she was home.
#bucky barnes x ofc#avengers fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction#winter soldier fanfiction#series#nightingale's song#my mcu
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Title: Trials and Tributes (Complete)
Summary:
"There were witches who lived among them. Or so that's what Levi was told. He just could not believe for the life of him that she'd be one of them."
Levi is a soldier who interrogates witches before they are put on trial and Hange might just be a witch.
Levihan Secret Santa Gift for @cleacourgette
Link to cross-postings: AO3
Link to other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5
Notes: Merry Christmas! @cleacourgette. Here is the completed story.
Although I did some research on this, I don't think I would have been able to pull this story off without taking some liberties on my end history-wise. If you've read Rangers Apprentice, you might find some slight Easter eggs here since I based a lot of the medieval setting from medieval fiction more than actual medieval history. I hope you enjoy this though!
There were witches who lived among them. Or so that was what Levi was told.
Their powers manifested in the occasional droughts, the famines and most notably for Levi the plague that had taken his mother from him. That plague and the aftermath was what had him moving into a cabin with his uncle at the tender age of eight and training to be an assassin.
Having lived most of his young life in that small cabin, as a kid, Levi was never really able to pinpoint when exactly humanity decided to fight back against the witches. A few times his uncle had brought him to the square to watch the trials which usually ended with a witch being burned at stake or a witch being thrown into the sea.
As a child, he had felt his gut clench watching the desperate faces of the women tied to the stake as the flames licked at them for a few minutes before they started to consume them alive. By the time the flames did morph into a carnivorous tiger ready to devour its prey alive, young Levi would look away--- every single time.
That was more than a decade ago. Levi had seen more than enough trials and the crimes the women were accused of and the angry fathers and the crying mothers who broke down while they testified the crimes were more than enough for Levi to understand the need for retribution and King Fritz’s declaration to rid the word of witches.
They were responsible for the plague that had taken the first son of the parents, the child that had wandered into the forest and was eaten by a boar and the crop shortage in one village that had caused their downfall.
As the king’s right hand man and most trusted soldier, Levi stood at every single trial and every single execution. Compared to back when he was a kid, he at least had the stomach to look the witch in the face every time. His heart still clenched as he had made eye contact with them or caught the moment their eyes went dark as the flames consumed them.
It could just be their powers. If the witches had the power to start plagues and cause chaos in villages then they probably had the power to manipulate hearts too. Levi had to remind himself of just that every time he felt that bitter taste in his mouth at every witch they had executed.
It was a painful scene to watch every single time, only leaving Levi mentally exhausted and so mentally distraught that he would have preferred to have spent the day shooting a thousand arrows with the hardest bow or to do a thousand swings with the heaviest sword in the weaponry.
Instead of closing his heart to them though, he ended up doing the complete opposite.
He made sure to see a human in every single one of them. Willing himself to see it was a small, personal yet excruciatingly painful challenge Levi forced on himself every time. The more he allowed himself to sympathize, the more he would be able to get to know himself and his emotions and consequently the better he’d be able to stop himself from being manipulated when it mattered.
It was a lesson on mental constitution and loyalty towards his cause. Levi was determined to stand for it, unwavering. Levi found himself talking to them before they stood on trial, learning their back stories. Some had gone crazy denying accusations and even attacking him. Others had just laughed it off. Others have even remained catatonic.
Levi had become familiar with the many ways witches handled the accusations and the impending trial. The sights and sounds of witches and the way they had all handled their impending trials were all gut wrenching but routine. And routine was the only reason why Levi was able to stop himself from planning an escape route for every one of them.
Routines---like rules and all other things--- are meant to be broken and for most people, will be broken eventually. For Levi, it was broken when he entered that same interrogation room to catch a whiff of that scent. Levi had relied so easily on the sights and sounds, on the tears on the witches’ faces and their desperate final screams. Nothing had prepared him for the way witches could smell and the faint scent she had exuded as he entered the room. It only left Levi a little taken aback and maybe a little vulnerable.
Others would have probably described it as flowery. To others it would have been fruity.
To Levi, those two scents were just too intertwined. If he did have to sum it up into one word, he would have just said ‘different’. It was fruity. Yet it was also flowery. The most glaring part about that scent though was the way it chilled the air closest to him. It entered his nostrils as a cool wind every time and even during the hottest days of summer, it would be winter in his nostrils. It was cold yet it smelled of late spring and early summer. So unnatural. So unique. Maybe that was what made it easy for Levi to connect that scent to one from some buried memory long ago.
Even before he took in the unkempt brown hair hastily tied up and those hazel eyes as they looked up at him, just by her scent, Levi knew for sure who it was and where they had met.
But why is she here? Levi thought to himself as he made eye contact with her.
“You sure she’s a witch?”
“She was captured in your hometown sir. In the nearby woods.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.” Of course she’d be there. That’s where I found her so many years ago. That’s where I fucking grew up.
The guard tensed up. “Sincerest apologies Mr. Ackerman. I don’t know the exact details. They will be made public in the trial.”
“Give us time and space then. I’ll ask her myself.”
“But sir, you mustn't stay too near. She might hex you.”
“And I’m willing to take that risk,” Levi said tersely as he settled himself on the seat in front of her.
“Sir, you’re our best weapon in the army. We ca--”
“It’s an order.”
The guard may have been a few years older than Levi. The latter had proven himself to be a competent fighter on multiple occasions, putting himself in a rank much higher above most of the soldiers. He never took advantage of it. Until that moment. Somehow, it felt like it was a risk worth taking.
Her face had matured yet the glint of mischief and wonder in her eyes had remained. He took in the view in front of him and indulged in the wave of nostalgia that came with it.
"Is the herb garden still there? Did you finally put borders around it so people wouldn’t mistake it for weeds?" He started with questions only she would have answered correctly.
Trials and Tributes
Levi carefully trudged through the soil. The boots Kenny had given him actually worked to mask the sound of foot rubbing on earth and the spray of the sun as he did. It wasn’t enough though, the grass seemed particularly eager to announce the entrance of any human who stepped on them.
With every blade of grass he stepped on, he was probably killing more of them. It’s only natural that anyone would want their murderer caught red-handed.
Imagining the grass beneath him at least had some sentience was a small thought Levi decided to play with, having gotten tired of doing the same drills alone everyday since Kenny had left a week ago for a mission.
At that point, Levi was still learning to stay silent. The cloak he was given did a good job giving a base at which to work with. In the end though, it was only the weapon. A weapon is only as valuable as its user and while Levi still struggled to master the art of silent movement, the cloak can only be too valuable too.
The change was gradual but from the short patches of grass, Levi found himself entering an area where the grass shot up closer to his shins. The longer the grass was, the more challenging it would be to breeze through it silently. There was just more area for the grass to brush against, rustling and consequently making the sounds Levi had so wanted to avoid.
He had made at least a few feet, completely satisfied by the fact that he had not made an embarrassingly loud rustle just yet.
Just yet. Maybe he had been a little too careless or a little too excited. Maybe for a second he had been so into his little daydreams about grass being obsessed with justice that he had failed to notice the rustles, then the angry footsteps. It was only when the warm air was right on his neck did he realize he had been the one who had failed to notice that he was still very loud.
“Hey! Get off my herb garden!”
Trials and Tributes
“No. I’m not putting them in cages.”
I want them to grow freely. Putting up borders makes them look like caged animals. She had explained before that putting up fences and borders around plants had only made her heart hurt similarly for them as she had done for the many animals she’d seen in cages as a kid.
Witches were evil. All they caused were chaos, death, destruction. They were all in the testimonies he had watched so many times before. The proclamations by King Fritz.
Levi could not believe that someone with that much empathy for anything living could be what she was being arrested for.
Why did they arrest you? He’d find out the reason soon enough during the trial.
“What were you doing when they arrested you?” It was a question with an answer which was so commonly and easily twisted by the guards assigned to catch the witches that Levi always felt it so necessary to ask it to them directly
“I was in my cabin, mixing poultices and potions.”
My cabin. Somehow, the way she had said it brought Levi back to that isolated cabin in the woods he would visit when Kenny wasn’t home. He lived a little too far from the town square and had been swamped with combat training. He had craved for some company, ideally someone his age and she who lived in that little cabin surrounded by herbs had been the only one he could turn to.
“Poultices and potions for what?”
“Healing."
"Healing who?"
"The townspeople."
Levi could not help but smile. “Why am I not surprised that you got into that type of work.”
Of course, she has always been good at that.
Trials and Tributes
“And this is why you shouldn’t be using a bow and arrow for that long.”
Levi bit his lip and looked away. The last thing he had wanted her to see was the tears he was fighting to keep in, just in case they did come out. He had had enough cuts, injuries and even close calls with death to know how many ways the body can get fucked over by nature and man made objects. Blisters ranked up there among the most painful wounds and stubbing one’s toe.
She was gentle though when she had wrapped the bandages. The poultice she had put on his blisters surprisingly did not sting. In fact within minutes, the stinging pain had calmed into something dull and easily forgettable.
“Did you make it yourself?” Levi observed more closely the interior of the cabin. There were glass bottles lined up on the wall with different liquids and preserved matter in them. He had been there many times already but it was only then, as he finally got to experience the healing powers of the liquids first hand did he really allow himself a good look at the room.
So many poultices and potions were lining the walls yet Levi had never seen anyone else in the cabin. He eventually figured out that was the only logical explanation. He was sure though she was only early into her teenage years, just like he was.
“Yes. I made everything here myself,” She answered, only confirming his suspicion.
“For what?”
“For fun. What else is there to do here?”
Share it to the world. Levi had wanted to say. He kept it to himself though. The way her face darkened as she asked that question only made Levi think that it was something he shouldn’t pry on her. When he did think about it, someone as friendly as her would not have lived in isolation against her will. Something must have happened.
“So what happens to the poultices you make?”
“They just sit here and when they go bad, I throw them away.”
Levi felt a second hand pain at the thought of wasting such effective ingredients. “Would you mind if I came back here more? So at least someone could use them?”
She beamed. “I would honestly love it if you did.”
Trials and Tributes
“You look like you’ve grown since then,” she gave him a naughty smile. “Maybe an inch?”
“Watch your mouth. You’ll be going on trial soon,” Levi said sternly. He knew the smile which so naturally crept up his lips betrayed the tone of his voice. She had made that same joke many times before.
“I meant you’ve changed,” she clarified.
“Of course, I have. How long has it been? Ten years?”
“Wow? That long? I’ve waited for you that long?” Her eyes widened in surprise. The brunette stood up and slammed her hands on the table. It was loud and maybe the way she stared at him and slammed her feet on the table was a little chaotic. They had dealt with crazier witches though and the guards did not even bother to peek in.
Levi bit his lip, quelling the guilt inside him. He still remembered, he did promise her they’d meet again. I mean, we did meet again right? Levi thought wryly to himself as he considered the circumstances of their reunion. He had considered visiting a long time before. But the three day walk or the one day carriage ride just did not seem worth it, especially since he had gotten busier with work.
“You said you’d be back. I had faith we’d meet again. I just didn’t think we’d meet like this.”
Trials and Tributes
His uncle Kenny had been missing for over two years. He should have seen it coming. His uncle had said so himself multiple times, he was not fit to be a father.
The one thing that had made the isolation all the more bearable was the cabin only a ten minute walk away. They had gotten closer over time and Levi started to feel more and more at home when he’d stop by after a long day of training to get his cuts and blisters treated.
Every month, he would still make the long trek to the nearest town once or twice. That was where the opportunity to enlist in the king’s army made itself known to him. They had sold the idea as one for glory, for money. Levi saw it as something else.
The training his uncle had given him from sneaking skills, archery skills, knife throwing and combat skills had to have been for something. As the town crier stood on his platform announcing the call for manpower for the next war, Levi’s mind was racing. Maybe it was an opportunity to find his uncle. Maybe it would be a good chance to see the world. Maybe it was a way to find out the origins of the witches that took his mother away from him so many years ago.
He knew though, to answer the many questions running through his head, he had to find a way out of their small village. The easiest way lay in front of him as King’s army enlistment. The town crier prattled on about free transportation, free weapons, free training and the opportunity to live a life of luxury in the capital but Levi did not listen. He had already made his decision.
“So you’ve finally decided to leave huh?” She didn’t bother to hide the disappointment on her face as she placed a mug of tea in front of him.
“There are just some questions I need answered. Can’t do it here.”
“Yeah, should have known. Nobody would want to live in a cabin in the woods their whole lives.”
“Why don’t you go with me?”
“I’ve told you before. I can’t leave.” She avoided his gaze. Why had she never left the woods? He had asked that question so many times before, only for the conversation to shift elsewhere.
“You’ll come back though right?”
“Of course. I grew up here. This is still my home.”
“Then I’ll wait.” She went towards the cupboards, took something out, walked back to him and pressed it on his palm.
Levi could only stare.
“Why do you look so dumbstruck? It’s a poultice.” She explained. “You’ve tried everything else I’ve made. Now that I think about it, maybe that’s why your aim is so good now.” She noted playfully.
Levi had to nod as she said that. Ever since he had started taking her potions and applying her poultices, he improved remarkably as a fighter. “What’s this one for though?”
“It can soothe pain, sores. I thought you’d need it fighting a war.”
He only needed to open the bag slightly for the scent to waft out and fill the room.
“It’s pretty strong so you’ll only need a pinch every time you’re injured,” She said as she quickly pulled the drawstring bag closed again. She was too late though. The strong scent had already settled in the air. “It’s my favorite. Definitely the one I’m most proud of. And you can get a free refill when you come back. Maybe I can even make a better one.” She smiled ruefully. “You promise you’ll be back though right?”
“Promise.”
Trials and Tributes
The room had smelled just like the poultice when he had closed the door on her. That was the one poultice that saw him through the two year war, then three more years working for the military. Maybe that was why at that moment when he laid eyes on her in the interrogation room, it had brought him such a wave of nostalgia, making him recognize her almost instantly.
“Did something happen?” His superior asked within a second of Levi entering his office. It was just like Erwin to know something was not routine at first glance.
“Hm?”
“This last visit to the prison took you longer than usual. And you seemed a little distracted when you entered my office.”
Levi looked out the window. The sun was far past the horizon already and the sky was too dark to even make out shapes against it. The prison was underground so it was a little more difficult to notice the passage of time there. He couldn’t help but note though that that was the first time he had come out of there to see that it was dark outside.
“That's what I wanted to talk to you about.” Levi had rehearsed his lines on the way up. Only the king would be able to give him permission to do what he wanted to do and the only person who could convince the king was his superior Erwin. He trusted Erwin but from his eyes, his request seemed so out of character, he could not even predict how Erwin would react. With Erwin’s comment though, he had given Levi a good opening to ask.
It’s now or never. “I want to handle the trials of the witch I met in the prison today. The one who came from my hometown.”
“Hange Zoe?”
That was her whole name? Years ago, he had only ever called her by her first name Hange. He had even forgotten her first name. During the meeting, he had been so focused on how they had both changed, the promise he had failed to meet and the circumstances of their reunion. As his mind raced trying to process that piece of crucial information, Levi could manage a nod.
“I guessed there might have been something between you too. Your hometown was a pretty small place.” Just like Erwin to be a little sharper. “Also, this is strange. You never really wanted to get involved in the actual trials and executions. Until now.”
Levi was trusted enough by the king and the military for his presence to always be requested in every trial and every burning. Every trial had left his chest a little heavier and his mouth a little more bitter-tasting. Erwin had at least noticed that enough to never request Levi to be there to facilitate it.
Regardless of his lack of history with any of those witches who had gone on trial, a heavy chest and a bitter taste in his mouth were always there, maybe they were even just the bare minimum of what he felt with every trial.
Compared to many of the others he had interrogated though, he had a history with that Hange Zoe. Levi knew he would be taking a risk. “She might just be the witch who was responsible for my mother’s death. I want to be there in the frontlines when justice is served,” he answered.
And that was a risk he was willing to take.
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Campfire Nightmare [Skephalo]
Ayyyy did someone say angst? :D
Sooo basically, hurt and comfort fic here. It involves these two sitting by the campfire (I mean, ‘campfire’ is in the title so-) I created a parody of a ghost story so I hope you guys enjoy that. It is spooky month right now afterall. Happy spooky month. :)
It was a peaceful Friday evening tonight. ...Okay well, it WAS a peaceful evening. There was a commotion happening over at Zak and Darryl’s home. It would seem as if they were arguing again.
Unfortunately, this wasn't their usual back and forth playful banter. Oh lord no, it's even worse. Something disastrous happened here.
One of Zak's pranks went wrong. Very, very wrong. Zak was trying really hard to explain himself, but Darryl wasn’t having any of it.
"I said I was sorry!" Zak exclaimed. He isn't mad at Darryl. Far from it, but he was getting a little scared of how mad Darryl was getting at him.
"Sorry!?" Darryl shouted. "Zak! The kitchen is an absolute mess! Why is there so much Kool-Aid powder on the floor!? And how are there pieces of bread stuck on the ceiling!? I literally just finished cleaning the house!"
Zak winced and stayed silent for a bit. This wasn't the first prank that Zak did on him ever since they moved in together. There were many pranks before this. He does like to cause some mischief after all, especially if it involved Darryl.
You’d think this would be unbearable to Darryl, but surprisingly, Zak's pranks usually don't bother him. Usually, Zak's pranks were harmless enough and he would always make sure that Darryl was okay in the end. Heck, Darryl would sometimes try to prank him back.
It was all fun and games until it was taken too far. Of course, it wasn’t Zak’s intention for it to go this way. It was just really bad luck. It was also pretty unlucky for this to happen to Darryl who was already in a horrible mood to begin with.
"H-Hey-" Zak tried to calm him down. "Look, I'm actually really really sorry. I messed up, but I'll clean up everything. You know I always fix everything after I mess around!"
“Unbelievable!” Darryl let out a noise of frustration. He has had it with Zak's shenanigans. All the other things he tolerated, but this was just absolutely ridiculous.
"Darryl please! I'm sorry! What else do you want me to do or say?!"
"Maybe you can not be such an idiot once in a while?!" Darryl angrily spat out. "I swear, am I just someone who you like to mess with all the time?! Is that all I am to you?! This is what I have to put up with all the time?!"
"Wh-.. I-…" Zak was speechless for a moment, feeling crushed. Does Darryl really think he means so little to him? And does he really annoy him that much? It was like a slap to the face.
Wait a minute.
“This is what I have to put up with all the time?”
That struck a nerve. Zak suddenly got angry and shouted back. “This is what I- What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?!”
“You know EXACTLY what I mean when I say that! And don’t raise your voice at me!”
This argument took a turn for the worse as things started getting ugly. It went on and on for a few minutes until Darryl was the one to end it all.
“Okay. Stop it. I don’t want to hear it anymore.” Darryl said with a stern tone. Zak stayed silent with a slight frown in his face as Darryl continued to speak.
"We are supposed to go camping tomorrow morning, but if you're going to keep being this way, then I don't want to talk to you."
Zak opened his mouth and tried to say something but closed it. He crossed his arms and looked down on the floor with a heartbroken look on his face. He has never seen or heard Darryl act so cold before.
Darryl didn't dare look at Zak. He knows if he took one look at Zak's sorry face, he'd probably feel bad. Not this time though. He refused to feel sorry for him.
"I-I'll clean it all up." Zak broke the silence, mumbling probably the 20th apology for tonight. "I'm sorry..."
Darryl stayed quiet while carefully walking over the broken pile of plates and a broken picture frame. "Goodnight, Zak." He said with bitterness in his voice.
As Darryl closed the door, Zak looked around the kitchen taking it all in. He looked at the clock. 9:00pm… This was going to take forever. He should probably start with fixing the sink.
He looked at Darryl's door, fighting back tears and holding himself back from going inside. Darryl needs some time alone right now.
He messed up.. he messed up so badly..
Darryl was laying on his bed, trying to calm himself down. A part of him did feel like he went too far, but he doesn't care right now.
He was so tired. He was so fed up with his tomfoolery.
Moments like these just make him not want to see his face ever again. He was that frustrated. He lays there alone with his thoughts until he slowly, finally drifts to sleep.
-
The both of them were at the campsite that Zak has talked about. It looked like Zak was excited to be here. He has talked to him about how his family took him and his sister here many times as a child.
Darryl was a little surprised how experienced Zak was. It was like he knew this place like the back of this hand as it seemed like they explored every part of the forest preserve.
The camp was set up surprisingly fast. It was pretty nice spending time just hiking through the forest. It felt like time passed by too quickly when they both realized it was already starting to get dark.
They headed back to the campsite. Darryl noticed that Zak already set up the campfire, along with a water bucket to put it out later.
Time went by, and it was now completely dark. Darryl was busy roasting marshmallows by the fire before he noticed Zak grinning across from him.
"Hey, do you wanna hear something scary?" He eagerly asked him.
Darryl frowned a little. "No ghost stories around the campfire Zak."
"Aww come on!" Zak whined. "Please? My dad told me this story before when I was young. It was really good!"
"So does that mean it isn't that scary?" Darryl hoped.
"Huh? Oh, no." Zak laughed a little. "That dumb story terrified me back then."
"Oh my goodness." Darryl let out a groan, feeling like he was going to regret this. "Okay, just make it quick."
Zak beamed. He grabbed a flashlight, turned it on, and held it below his face to get into the mood.
Darry felt himself shiver. He swore the world around him became so dark that the only things he saw were the campfire, and Zak as he had a frightening smile before beginning the story.
"Once upon a time, there was a young lady who lived in the forest. She fell in love with a young man, who she thought was really cute and sweet. But it had always seemed that the man wasn't aware of her feelings, until that fateful day..."
"To her surprise, he suddenly asked her to meet him by the river which was a part of the forest. He told her to come alone, wanting to tell her something important. She was so excited, daydreaming and hoping that it was a love confession."
Darryl hugged himself a little, knowing that things weren't going to end well.
"She showed up early, eagerly waiting for him to come. She stood there, waiting for hours… until he finally showed up. She smiled wide, so happy to see him. But her smile slowly turned to a look of confusion."
"He brought his friends over...why? She thought they were meeting up alone. But before she could ask, all of them suddenly started to laugh."
"'Wow! I can't believe she's still here! How pathetic!' One of his friends sneered."
"Her face fell. How could they do this to her? She broke into tears when she heard her crush speak up."
"'Yeah! I can't believe she thought that I would ever date her!' His friends cruelly laughed harder as the man she thought she loved walked up to her."
"She slowly stepped backwards as her tears blinded her. He pushed her, making her fall into the river. Everyone ran off afterwards, not knowing the full consequence of what they've done.. None of them knew that the woman couldn't swim."
"None of them knew that he murdered her."
Darryl was mortified as he clearly envisioned the scenario. He was too focused on Zak's story that he forgot about the marshmallows he finished roasting.
"Years passed, and the same guy and his friends have forgotten all about her. They went on a camping trip.. just like us.. to the same forest he drowned her in."
"Things were fine until he noticed that his friends started disappearing.. one.. by.. one. At first, he assumed that his friends just decided to ditch him, but then he felt that something was wrong. He can't find any of them now."
"It was getting darker as he was still looking for his friends, until he suddenly found something peculiar. Something.. or someone was emitting a bright glow into the river."
"Like a moth being drawn to a flame, he couldn't help but be memorized by it.. He went closer and closer until suddenly, BAM!"
Darryl flinched a little by Zak's sudden loud noise.
"A pair of arms suddenly pulled him into the river! The man couldn't do anything to escape before it happened, it was already too late."
"Whatever that was, grabbed him by the neck. It tightly and painfully dug its nails deep into his neck. The man failed around in fright. As he opened his eyes, he suddenly realized a familiar looking face."
"That glowing figure, had that woman's face. That woman he pushed in long, long ago. She had tears streaming down her face… and she looked angry."
"Showing absolutely no mercy to him, she kept him underwater. And he slowly suffered a long and painful death… Some say that her angry spirit still seeks for prey up north where the river resides in this forest."
"Wait, what?!" Darryl exclaimed. "Are you saying that the forest she died in, is in this forest we are in right now?!"
He heard a dark chuckle from Zak, something Darryl has never even heard from him. "Maybe. Coincidently, dead bodies have been found by that river a few times over the years. They all died from drowning. They were all men too."
"Oh my goodness then why did you take us here?!" Darryl frantically said, getting more scared then he already was.
Zak turned off the flashlight and chuckled to lighten things up. "Dude, don't tell me you actually believe in this."
"It doesn't matter if I do or don't, Zak! Any sane person would stay away from places that have dead bodies lying around! What if we get hurt or worse?!"
Zak only chuckled more. "Calm down dude, there isn't anything that's gonna- OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT BEHIND YOU!?" He suddenly shrieked out.
Darryl screamed and jumped from where he’s sitting, accidentally kicking the water bucket over which put out the fire. He looked behind him and saw… nothing.
As soon as he heard Zak's laughter, his fear turned into frustration. "Skeppy that was not funny!" Darryl shouted.
Zak was still giggly as he calmed down a bit. "I'm sorry.. oh my god. You have to admit that was good!"
"No it wasn't! You scared me! I thought we were in danger!!"
"That story is made up!" Zak cleared his throat, completely calm now. "There's no freaky woman that died in the river, you have nothing to worry about!"
"Are you serious?!" Darryl groaned. "You made me jump and put out the fire, you jerk!"
"Don't worry! I'll just get some more wood to burn and another bucket of water. We're fine!"
Darryl only sighed in response, glaring at him. They sat in silence for a moment. Zak slightly frowned, but then smiled apologetically.
"I’m sorry.. I'll be right back." Zak said softly before taking his flashlight and leaving.
Darryl wasn't even sure if he wanted to stay up anymore. He just feels like going inside the tent right now. Sitting in silence for what seemed like a few minutes, he suddenly heard a blood curdling scream.
He quickly stood up. That sounded like Zak screaming. "Zak? ..Zak y-you better not be messing with me.. I swear-"
"DARRYL HELP! SOMEONE HEL-" A big splash was heard in the distance.
"Zak?!" Darryl grabbed his backpack and immediately started running. "ZAK?!"
He ran deeper into the forest with no flashlight, running as fast as he could. Panic taking over, he cannot recall where to find the river. He was desperately trying to hear where Zak’s screams were coming from.
"Crud, crud crud. Crud!" Darryl swears that this forest has become even harder to navigate through. Even though he was running as fast as he could, he felt like he was going nowhere.
He heard Zak's desperate cries for help coming from a separate path before hearing complete silence. Darryl tripped and fell before quickly getting up and running another direction.
"ZAK?! WHERE ARE YOU?! CAN YOU HEAR ME!? ZAK!" He didn't hear anything else before he finally stumbled upon the river. He saw the bucket that Zak took, laying on the ground.
But no Zak.
Darryl was panting, frantically looking around. That's when he saw it… No way. This wasn't possible... This wasn't real.
Something was glowing in the water. And it was exactly like he imagined it. It was the same thing in Zak’s story.
Darryl almost ran in the opposite direction, fearing for his life before he saw something else in the water. He saw him. She had Zak captive underwater.
SHE HAD ZAK.
Having another rush of adrenaline, he grabbed a pocket knife in his bag, and jumped into the water, screaming out in both fear and rage.
"LET HIM GO!"
The spirit was confused to see another person jump in before shrieking in pain as Darryl managed to stab her arm.
It was like a game of tug of war between the two. But because Darryl was being relentless, she eventually backed off, letting go of Zak.
Darryl wrapped his arms around Zak and swam upwards to the shore. Once they were out of the water, he slowly dropped Zak and kneeled on the ground, shaking and gasping for breath.
While he wasn’t looking, the spirit came up from the surface, going towards the both of them.
Before she could drag Zak's body into the water again, Darryl noticed her and quickly dragged him far away from the water.
Even though he was absolutely horrified, he held the pocket knife in his hand as a threat. She stared at him angrily as he carried Zak's limp body away.
When he was sure that he got out of her sight, he gently placed Zak on the ground, catching his breath once again.
“Zak? ..Are you okay? ..Can you answer me?” He looked at him. Zak wasn’t moving an inch. Darryl immediately feared the worse.
He held him in his arms, shaking him a little. “Zak? ...H-Hey, please wake up.. geppy?”
He couldn’t hear him breathing.
His hand trembled as he checked for a pulse.
...Nothing.
Tears started falling from his face. “No.. nonononono. Zak, don’t do this. Don’t do this to me. D-Don’t leave me like this.”
Darryl tried to perform CPR in a desperate attempt to revive him. It wasn’t working. He knows that it wasn’t working. But he was still doing it, refusing to give up on him so easily.
“Zak?!” More tears started falling out as he stared at his body in disbelief. “You.. You muffin head!” Darryl started to shout.
“If you don’t wake up right now, I’m never going to forgive you! You hear me?! I-I’ll never forgive you!”
His voice started to crack as he trembled even more, attempting to do CPR once again. Tear droplets hitting Zak’s face.
“I’m never going to forgive myself if you died because of me, Zak! Please! Say something! Please tell me that you’re faking it! Please tell me this is a horrible troll! P-Please!”
Unforgivable cold dead silence.
“No.. no..” He broke down and hugged Zak tightly as if his life depended on it, choking out sobs. How could he let this happen?
Even with his blurry vision, he thought he saw something glowing from the corner from his eye. Did the spirit manage to follow him? Darryl doesn't know, but he doesn’t care.
“I’m sorry.. I’m so so sorry.. Z-Zak..” He barely whispered out.
He wanted him back. He wanted to see his muffin full of life again.
-
Darryl jolted awake, sitting upwards from his bed. He was breathing heavily, wiping the tears that were falling from his eyes. What a horrible nightmare...
He curled up, shaking.. taking a moment to process that it was only a dream. A terrible dream that felt way too real at first. He took out his phone to look at the time. It was 1:00am. He wasn’t going to go back to sleep at this rate.
He got out of bed and walked out of his bedroom. The moment he stepped out, he was surprised to see the kitchen, remembering that it was a total wreck before. But now it was as if nothing happened at all. In fact, it looked better than before.
The kitchen table caught his eye since there were flowers in a vase that wasn’t there before. He walked up to take a closer look at it and found out there was a note in front of the vase. Curious, he picked it up and read it.
“Hey! Good morning Darry! Hope you’re feeling a little better after last night. I’m still really sorry about that. It’s not much, but I hope these flowers cheer you up a little bit. I also bought a new picture frame in order to replace the broken one. When I wake up, you can tell me if you still want to go camping together.”
Darryl’s eyes trailed off to the side. He didn’t even notice the picture frame near the flowers. He picked the picture frame up. The picture… The picture was the both of them smiling happily into the camera. It was taken on the day they first saw each other in person. He looked back at the note.
“I’m sorry that you have to put up with me sometimes. -Zak <3”
Darryl felt even worse as he started to feel an awful amount of guilt. Tears were welling up again. He looked across the hallway and laid his eyes on Zak’s room.
Zak was laying on his bed, half asleep. He was exhausted, taking over three hours to clean up his mess and set up the few new things for Darryl. He was just about to fall asleep until he heard his door open.
He turned to his side, slowly opening his eyes. “Darryl?..” Zak looked at him warily until he sat up in both confusion and concern when he noticed that Darryl was crying. “Are you.. okay?”
Darryl still wasn't over the nightmare that he had. Even though it didn’t happen and he already knew Zak was fine, he was so relieved to see his face. He wrapped his arms around him tightly, sobbing quietly.
Zak didn’t know what to say at first. He didn’t know why or how Darryl was this emotional. As he hugged him back, he felt Darryl squishing him even tighter. “D-Darry? What’s going on? ..Can’t breathe.”
“I’m sorry.” Darryl quietly said, loosening his grip on him. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m-”
“Woah woah, Jesus Christ dude.” Zak let go of Darryl to look at his face that was covered in tears and frowned. “What the heck happened? Why are you crying? Sorry for what?”
“For being a dumb.. muffin head..” He wiped his eyes. “I-Idiot.. I’m.. I didn’t mean it. I-I didn’t mean any of it. I’m sorry..” He whined.
Darryl hugged him again, hiding his face against his chest. Zak looked down on him with a soft sad look on his face. He was still mumbling “I’m sorry” over and over again.
Zak wrapped his arms around him, ruffling Darryl's hair a little. "Darryl, it's fine. I'm okay."
"No, it's not fine!" Darryl cried out. "If I wasn't being such an i-idiot, I would've helped you clean instead of ignoring you like a jerk... 'Putting up with you all the time.' ..W-Why did I say that?!"
Zak felt himself tear up a little. Because yes, that did hurt a little bit hearing that from him, but he wasn't expecting Darryl to be this distraught about it. Zak already knows that he didn't fully mean it.
"Aww Darry.." Zak rubbed his own eyes before hugging Darryl a little tighter, speaking softly. "Aren't you being a little harsh on yourself? This is all you're upset about? I'm not even mad about it anymore."
"I-I'm sorry.." Darryl sniffled. "This might sound silly but.. I also had a really bad nightmare a-and," he started to tremble again. "I really thought I lost you."
Even though Zak didn’t fully understand, he continued to reassure him. "It's alright Darryl.. I'm here if you want to talk about it. I'm here for you.."
Zak still had both arms wrapped around him, lightly resting on his head. Darryl silently sat still, calming down to the sound of his slow breathing. After a few minutes, he opened up about his bad dream.
He recalled how they were both camping in the woods. He remembered the ghost story and how it ended up being "real." And worst of all, how Zak.. slipped away from him.
Zak stayed silent and listened to every word. He would hug Darryl tighter if he was starting to get emotional again at some parts. Once he was done, Zak gently cupped his face as he looked him straight in the eyes.
"You don't ever have to worry about losing me. Okay?"
Darry felt more tears falling as he held back a smile. "You muffin head. Are you trying to make me cry more?"
Zak slowly started to smile, still having a hold on Darryl’s face as he gently pinched his cheeks. "Besides, even if you try to push me away, I'm not going anywhere.."
He pulled himself closer to Darryl to make their noses touch. "..whether you like it, or not." Zak grinned.
Darryl smiled as he wiped his face one last time. A light chuckle came from him. "You know what? ..I think I won't mind if I'm stuck with you."
"Good!" Zak let out a short laugh before hugging him again, peppering one side of his face with small kisses.
Darryl was caught off guard until he felt himself melt. The sudden affection from Zak wasn't expected and as a result, it made him giggly. He slightly tried to squirm away from him, but he was trapped in Zak's arms.
Zak felt his own heart melting as he heard just pure adorableness. He'd prefer Darryl's giggles over Darryl's crying any day.
"I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Darry.." Zak giggled, continuing his kissing attack. Darryl squirmed even more, but to no avail. He was stuck as a giggling mess.
"Okay, okahahay! I gehehet it!" He gave up squirming in favor of trying to cover his flustered face from Zak.
Zak slowly came to a stop and smiled. "Happy now?"
Darryl was still giggling, but he nodded yes.
Zak let out a hum of content and took hold of Darryl's hands. "You know, you really didn't have to apologize to me. I did basically destroy the kitchen."
"I know but I felt so bad.." Darryl whined a little. "I was being mean.."
"Oh my god." Zak laughed. "Okay, then we're both idiots. There." The both of them giggled at this, happy that the atmosphere became light-hearted.
"I'll take it easy with the pranks, Darryl." He gently squeezed his hands. "I'm sorry."
Darryl smiled and squeezed back. "I'm sorry too. I'll try to watch my temper around you." He smirked a little. "Even though you make it hard for me to not lose my marbles."
Zak laughed. "Okay, you know what? That's fair."
Darryl sighed as he hugged Zak, cuddling beside him. He felt like staying, not wanting to leave Zak's side. Zak didn't mind, he looked at his phone checking the time.
Zak groaned a little. "I think we're going to be too tired to go camping later today."
"Oh my goodness, that almost slipped my mind… Should we reschedule it?"
"I think we should." Zak smiled. "I don't mind."
It was silent for a while. They were looking into each other's eyes and were completely exhausted.
"I'm so lucky I have you.." Darryl mumbled.
Zak's eyes widened and his face flushed before he burst out giggling. "You idiot.. that's my line."
Darryl giggled out tiredly in response. After a few minutes, they finally fell asleep after a long night.. hand in hand.
And the best part? No nightmares took place this time.
[End]
#skephalo#badboyhalo#skeppy#fanfiction#my writing#tw knife#tw death#<_< uh.. I can explain#its not what it looks like I swear
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Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap) ~ Part 2
Summary: Sam inherits Steve Roger's crime empire after a handful of his men betray and kill him. The rest of the crime world, sensing an opening, go after Sam and the territories he's inherited from Steve. Thankfully, Steve left him a number, someone to call if he ever needs help. Someone, Steve claimed, he can trust. But can Sam really trust a mercenary with that much blood on his name? And that many knives in his pockets.
WARNINGS: (there will eventually be all of these things) blood, violence, murder, shooting, stabbing, sex, blood play
Mob Boss!Sam Wilson and Mercenary!Bucky Barnes
18+ Content: Make Good Choices Kids <3
Ao3
He gets a letter in the mail the next day. He'd seen the massacre on the news. And he'd known Steve was gone. He could feel it before he'd seen the headline.
'BROOKLYN CRIME BOSS FOUND DEAD AFTER BLOODBATH'.
Bucky had rolled his eyes, it was hardly a bloodbath. Every sheet he'd seen being wheeled out had still been bright and white. If it was a real bloodbath, you'd have seen some blood, at least a little.
Bucky rubbed at his face with a groan, staring at the unopened letter on his empty table. The wax seal glistening in the low light of the coming dawn. He didn't want to open it. He knew what it was. It was a goodbye letter. One that would tell him not to be angry. Like he'd ever had a choice about that. Steve had known this was coming. He'd known and he'd done nothing. He'd let it happen. Bucky knew what was in that letter. He didn't need to open it to know what Steve would say. He growled low in his throat, grabbed the crimson envelope, and shoved it in his pocket as he pushed himself away from the table.
He walked around Brooklyn for hours, wandering the streets, hood pulled up around his head, blocking the rain. He was soaked to the bone in minutes, but he kept walking. He walked past the neighborhood he and Steve used live in, before things had gotten... complicated. He walked past all their old haunts, noting the changes, trying not to hate them. Steve had always told him he'd have to live with the changes. Have to watch as the world grew and changed, as he, Bucky, stayed the same, for the most part. And Steve was right of course. As he almost always was.
It was nearly noon when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He ducked under the stoop of an abandoned building and pulled his phone out. He didn't know the number. But he rarely did these days. He slid his finger across the screen and put the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" He grunted.
"Hello? Is this-" the voice on the end of the line cut off, sounding uncertain.
"Probably. Who's this?" Bucky countered, the corner of his mouth twitching when he heard the frustrated huff on the other end.
"Um.. Sam Wilson. I'm- I was-"
"I know who you are." Bucky said, ending the awkwardly stammering before it could really get going.
"Oh. Okay." The voice, Sam, sounded lost. Bucky closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the bricks behind him. Sam didn't sound lost, he was lost.
"What can I do for you Sam? Or is it Mr. Wilson now?" Bucky asked, his eyes still closed as he smiled into the phone.
"Oh. Uh, yeah I think- I think people around here would prefer Mr. Wilson." Bucky heard what sounded like fabric rustling and he could see Sam in his minds eye, rubbing at the back of his neck.
"Right. Yeah. And what would you prefer?" Bucky asked, opening his eyes, frowning out into the rain, waiting for Sam's answer.
"Normally I prefer Sam. I just-"
"Okay, Sam," Bucky cut him off again, testing how many times Sam was going to let him get away with it.
"What do you need?" He asked, and found that he was genuinely curious to hear the answer. Another frustrated huff came down the line, making Bucky grin again.
"I think I need help." Sam said, quietly. Bucky bit his lip and rubbed at his eyes.
"I'd imagine so. Big shoes to fill." Bucky said, doing his best to keep the bitterness from his voice.
"Yeah." It came out like sigh, and Bucky felt himself feeling sorry for this man. Not a lot. But there was something there, pressing on his chest.
"Well Sam. I provide many... helpful services. Did you have anything particular in mind?" Bucky asked, leaning his forehead agaisnt the bricks now, having turned in a circle as they'd talked. An actual sigh this time, long and tired. Bucky closed his eyes again, listening to Sam on the other end, struggling.
"Listen I don't know man. Okay? Steve's gone. And he wrote this fucking letter. And he left your number on a fucking card in a secret compartment and said to call you if I needed help. That's all I've got so far. I just- there gonna come for me. And I- I'd like a little reassurance that I'm not gonna get fucking shot as soon as I walk out the goddamn door!" He was shouting by the end, his voice shaking with emotion, Bucky couldn't tell if it was anger, or sadness, or a mix of both. He couldn't see him, so he couldn't say. But he let him yell. Let him get it out. Sam's breathing was heavy on the other line. Bucky waited.
"I just need-"
"Help. Yeah." Bucky cut him off, doing it for fun now.
"I can be there tonight. I'd suggest you stay inside today. If you need anything, send someone to get it for you. Do not, leave that house." He ordered, glaring down at his boots, kicking at a peice of loose concrete.
"Okay. What time?" Sam asked, sounding... was that relief? Bucky's frown melted.
"Midnight." He said.
"Little dramatic." Sam replied. Bucky snorted a laugh, turning on the spot, his boots crunching agaisnt the loose sediment under his feet.
"I'm a dramatic guy."
"Great." Sam huffed.
"Midnight then."
"Yeah. Midnight. See ya then Sam." He began to move the phone away when he heard Sam call after him.
"What?" He asked.
"I said hey." Sam said, his voice had changed.
"Hey yourself." Bucky said.
"I'm gonna tell you something. Something serious." He said, that change in his voice sending a chill down Bucky's spine.
"Something serious. Got it. I'm listening." Bucky said, his pinky finger drifting between his teeth as he waited, teeth settling around his finger nail.
"Don't fucking interrupt me ever again." His voice was cold, and the line clicked immediately after he'd spoken, giving Bucky no time to respond.
Bucky licked his lips as he looked down at his phone for a moment before shoving it back in his pocket. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back out into the rain, a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth.
#sambucky#winter falcon#sambucky fic#winter falcon fic#Mob Boss Sam Wilson#Mercenary Bucky Barnes#sambucky mob au#Dirty Deeds#Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap)#DD(DDC)#my writing#Dirty Deeds Series
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Born To Be Yours | Part VIII
Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)
Season 1-8
Word Count: 2,165
Note: Leave your thoughts please! 💛
Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.9
“I don’t want to leave King’s Landing! What about you and Tommen? No one can separate us! Please Y/N, I don’t want to go to Dorne.” Myrcella was weeping holding you tight by the waist.
“You’ll be safer in Dorne, little one. It’s dangerous if you stay. I promise you I’ll visit Sunspear as soon as I can. They will give you a warm welcome. Nothing bad is going to happen, okay?” You keep saying to ease her worries. She’ll be just fine, you thought.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“You are my sister. We’ll be in each other’s hearts till the end of time.” You wiped her tears.
“Princess Y/N, Princess Myrcella.” Sansa greeted you. Another two courtiers arrived to be with her.
“Lady Sansa, I love your dress! Did you make it yourself?” Myr announced.
“Yes, princess.” She chuckled.
“You should teach me how to do this beautiful stitching. Sadly we don’t have the time.”
“I’ll send you a golden gown as a present on your nameday” She grinned and went off to play hide & seek with the ladies. “You are going to miss your sister.” Sansa said.
“A lot. But I know it has a purpose. She’s strong.” You nodded.
“Just like you. I miss Arya. We had a complicated relation, she was always so annoying and I was a brat. I should have cherished the moments we had together. She’s out there all alone.” With a sad voice she spoke.
“We will find her.”
“May I ask you something?” She doubtfully inquired.
“Anything.”
“You don’t like to be around Joffrey?”
“No. And I’m glad he hardly ever request my presence. We had a messy childhood. I’ve been closer to my siblings since they were born. They brought light to my life. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for them.”
“I admire you, Y/N.” You smiled.
“Lady Sansa, do you fancy poetry?”
“I do! It’s very romantic.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear that. I made you a poem... you inspired me. Here it goes...
Big vivid blue eyes
Gentler than the ocean sea
Long silky auburn locks
Warmer than a sunset
This a lady, a lady who will own the world.”
You created it the very first day you meet her, of course, you wouldn’t recite it to her when you barely knew each other. It was way too short but it meant something.
“Woah... Y/N I’m speechless. You are so sweet. I don’t deserve a friend like you.” Right, friend.
“Of course you do.” You said. She kissed your cheek the same way you kissed hers the other night. Swiftly and subtly. Gods it felt so good. If anyone was watching they could see how blushed you two were.
“May I ask specifically what the King has in mind?” Tyrion was weary of his sister’s stubbornness.
“You may, specifically, or you may ask vaguely. The answer will be the same.” She nonchalant answered.
“It’s important we talk about this.” He insisted.
“It’s the King’s royal prerogative to withhold sensitive information from his councilors.” Cersei was looking from the balcony to the gardens the longing stare Sansa had on you. You watched with a heavy heart over the younger princess so you weren’t paying much attention. The Queen Regent didn’t like the idea of that kind of closeness between you both. She didn’t suspect anything either, not more than devotion the northern lady held for Y/N. Still, it bothered her you always stood up for her. “That whore should stay away from my daughter.” She declared.
“Why? It seems they get along pretty well, your son loves to torture her. She found someone who treats her right. I don’t quite understand the reason you’re mad about it.”
“She’s poisoning her. Manipulating her. Y/N is so naive. That girl thinks she has her under her claws at her disposition.”
“What you are saying doesn’t make any sense. They are just girls. What harm can they do to each other?
“Will you send her away as well? Maybe you should have considered Y/N instead of Myrcella.”
“You haven’t changed a bit. Still so bitter and distant with Y/N. She knows how to fight, how to defend herself. She’s brave. Just like her father Robert Baratheon was. Only three of your four children are sane. But I’m really curious about this... how can you put one of them above the other? Being so hurtful with your actions and your words, Y/N experienced that. Where were you when she needed you the most?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I love her. In my own way. She’s my blood, and for good or for bad, blood is for life.” Tyrion let out a tired sighed of disbelief. Then he left.
“My friend...” Varys approached you.
“What news, Lord Varys?”
“Your uncle Renly. He’s dead.”
“How?”
“He was stabbed in the heart. Some say it was Lady Catelyn Stark, his own Kingsguard, and others Stannis Baratheon himself. We don’t know for sure.” You knew this was a high possibility due to the quarrel between Stannis and Renly, though it was soon you were pretty sad about the fact he’s gone. He was always good to you.
It was the day Myrcella was leaving home to be in an unknown place. She was terrified, truth be told you were too but you had to remain strong and positive.
“My lioness, I’m sure the next time we see each other you’ll be even more beautiful. Five years, twenty years, we’ll always be the same.” You were trusting Dorne to take care of her.
“Just a bit older. Who is going to stay with me when I have a nightmare or when-“
“As father told me, don’t be scared even in the face of danger. You will never be alone. I love you.” You kissed her forehead bidding her goodbye.
“Promise you will never forget about me Y/N.”
“I promise.”
“May the seven guide the princess on her journey...”
Tommen was sobbing, the septa cleaned his face. You held him whispering she was going to be safe and soon enough you’ll be seeing her again.
“You sound like a cat meowing for his mother. Princes don’t cry.” Joffrey hissed with his arms folded. You were to busy comforting your baby brother to pay him any attention.
“I saw you cry.” Sansa blunted out.
“Did you say something, my lady?” He turned to her.
“My little brother cried when I left Winterfell.”
“So?”
“It seems a normal thing.”
“Is your little brother a prince?”
“No?”
“Not really relevant, isn’t it?” He irritably replied.
“Some people care for their siblings, you don’t care for any of us. That’s why you are so stone-hearted about it.” You kept looking at Myrcella almost gone boat. He gave you a withering look before walking. Sansa was emotionless, perhaps because of her younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. Hopefully, they were alright.
“Come, dog.”
You followed the guards. In the hall, a crowd started to yell things at the King. Tommen was taken back to the Keep while your mother and you stayed close to each other, she held your hand.
“Hail to the King!”
“Murderer! Bastard!”
“Please your grace, we are hungry!”
Suddenly a piece of cow excrement was thrown to his arrogant face. “Who threw that? I want the man who threw that! Find him and bring him to me! Kill them! Kill them all!” Sansa handmaidens were keeping her close. The Lannister guardsmen shielded you and Cersei while the folk tried to get to your eldest brother. They were rioting, it was chaos.
“Move, move!” Tyrion ducked his head. You tried to follow the tall girl but she left your sight.
You entered a big gate to safety. “Where’s the Stark girl?” Tyrion shouted.
“Let them have her!” Joffrey furiously screamed.
Wasting no time you ran to the exit not caring about the riot happening outside.
You entered a short corridor, almost tripping by your feet. When you found her she was on the ground with her clothes ripped off, crying while trying to break free from the man’s grip.
“Have you ever been fucked?” You heard the disgusting person say.
“Take your hands off her!” You pushed one of them and hit him. The other flee and the last punched you in the stomach and then slapped you. The northerner was terrified. In that precise moment, before you kept fighting, The Hound arrived and spun the leader down, then disemboweled him, the second begged for mercy, resulting in him cutting his throat. He first offered to help you what you refused so he could carry the Stark girl. She was in shock.
Now you were in the gated area. You heavily sighed. “The Princess is hurt! So is the little bird.”
“Thank you, Sandor.” He nodded.
“Y/N! Are you alright? Did the assailants do something to you?” Tyrion worriedly asked you.
“No, no I’m fine.” You shook your head, trying to catch your breath.
“That was stupid.”
“Well, Joffrey is a slow thinker.”
“Your mother is going to be so angry about this.”
“I don’t care, uncle. You know it.” You smiled at him and he shook his head in disapprove. “My lady. They will take you back to the Red Keep. I will personally treat your wounds okay?”
“You already have done too much, my princess. I-“
“Please.” She nodded. “I’ll be with you in a few moments.”
You entered Cersei’s chambers, she was expecting you. Both hands on her waist. “What the hell were you thinking?! Are you an idiot? I’ve sent one of my daughters away and now the other is almost raped and killed the same day!” She was all hysterical.
“Mother, your son wasn’t deciding. Someone had to. Without Lady Sansa we’ll never see Jaime again. I’m the only person who cares for the innocent people? I wouldn’t let them hurt her.” You fought back.
“She is not worth risking your life for. You are trying to follow your father to the grave! It’s not about honor. It’s about your safety. I can’t lose you, Y/N.” She argued.
“You won’t.” You walked out leaving her with a mad expression.
“She was so brave Shae! She came to my aid when I thought those people were going to hurt me. She’s so fearless.”
“It was a very silly act. Things could have gotten worse.”
“But they didn’t. Sandor also helped. But Y/N,s boldness is remarkable.” Shae peered at her knowing what Sansa really meant.
You knocked on the redhead door. “I hope it’s not too late. My mother kept talking, I couldn’t wiggle my way out.” You excused yourself.
“Come in. I was waiting for you. Shae insisted on do it herself.”
“Princess. My lady.”
“Goodnight, Shae. She’s in good hands.” She gave you a little smile.
“Did you have supper already?”
“Yes, I took a quick bath too.” Sansa gestured you to sit down.
“I see. Your hair is still wet.” You quipped.
“You saved me. Again.” She began.
“Actually, Sandor saved us. I’m glad I arrived in time.”
“I thought they were going to kill me.”
“I wouldn’t let them. I won’t let anyone touches you ever again. I’m sorry. It must have been very frightening to you.”
“It was. You rescued me. I’m so grateful, Y/N. But your life is way more important than mine. Stop doing it.”
“I’ve heard that before.” You took the kerchief smearing in it some ointment.
“I’m serious. You are very brave. I don’t want you to get seriously injured because of me.” She insisted, more serious this time.
“I wouldn’t blame you. No harm will come to you while I’m around. I mean it. What I wouldn’t do to save you?”
“You are so stubborn. I would have given them bread if I had it. I hate the King more than any of them.”
“I know you would and I know you do, we share the same feeling about him.”
“Oh, gods! I’m a fool! I didn’t notice until now that you are also hurt.” She concernedly acknowledged.
“It doesn’t matter.” You brushed it off.
“Of course it does.”
“You first.” With the fabric, you began to swab her eyebrow cut.
“Auch.”
“It’s not deep. Does it hurt?”
“A little. What about yours?” She carefully touched your lower lip with her thumb.
“It’s just a scratch.”
“Let me clean it.” You found her eyes staring at your lips.
“The-the cut will disappear soon.” She stuttered.
“I won’t.” She looked up yo meet your eyes.
“What?”
“I won’t stop risking my life to keep you safe.” Not only you were doing this for the promise you made to Lady Catelyn, or because it was the right thing to do, not even for honor or recognition, but because you were falling harder and harder for her, you were deeply in love with the she-wolf.
#game of thrones fic#got#sansa stark x reader#sansa stark#sansa x reader#sansa x fem baratheon reader#house baratheon
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