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huramuna · 8 months

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beware the sapphire peak - chapter 2.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is(it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence

once upon a december - invadable harmony • reflections - toshifumi hinata

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of high valyrian

As you passed through the threshold of the building, you looked upon the tapestries that lined the walls– they seemed to tell a story, a story of dragons, war, betrayal and succession. The woven tapestries were over eight feet tall, hanging from old iron nails that pinned them to the stone bulwark. Beyond those, were the beginnings of many, many portraits of Targaryens long passed. They were all otherworldly looking, your eyes glazing over at their perfectly captured features.

Aemond’s gentle squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality, following the line of your gaze to the portraits. “Some people have said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than people,” he smirked, chuckling softly. “When we rode dragons and conquered land and sky, perhaps. But not now– we are merely mortals once again.”

“Ah, and here I thought I married an immortal being, what a pity.” you jested, your tongue poking in your cheek.

“A pity indeed– luckily I snagged myself a Goddess, hm?” he whispered lowly, craning his head to nose at your jawline, planting little kisses upon your soft skin. He was so close to you, his scent all consuming in your nostrils as you drank in the feather light touch of his lips upon you. You were surprised that you’d made it into the building without the both of you making love on the floor like rutting animals, truly.

The sound of heels clicking pulled you both from your stupor. As you turned around, you looked upon the woman that was in the window, the real one, atleast. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Aemond, but she still towered over you– they both did– her hair was pinned in a neat half-do, the slightly wavy tresses in a gorgeous, deep brown color, like freshly brewed coffee. Her eyes, a lively emerald green, blinked slowly as she looked you up and down, assessing you. She seemed to be more mature than you and Aemond, likely by fifteen or so years. The only indication of her age were the soft gleam of one or two errant gray hairs and the lines of her face, laugh lines, crow’s feet alike, were illuminated under the flickering light in the foyer. She wore a deep green dress, a similar shade to her eyes. “Lord Targaryen, Lady Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice deep and silky– it reminded you of the timbre of a wonderful cello you’d heard in an orchestra in New York City, instantly sending your heart aflutter.

“My love, this is Alys Rivers. She is the estate’s governess,” Aemond introduced, one eye lingering upon Alys before returning to you. “She’s been with us for many years and is more than happy to help you get acquainted with the ins-and-outs of the Keep.”

You suddenly remembered your manners, hand extended out to her. “Miss Rivers, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, your hand enveloped by hers. It was a bit cold, but warmed up quickly within your own.

“And you, my lady. I’m sure we will become fast friends.” Alys responded coolly, her mouth perking into a similar grin, her thumb lingering over the back of your hand for a bit longer than necessary as she squeezed it lightly before letting go

Certainly you didn’t imagine that?

“It is good to see you again, Alys. I hope to not be away from the estate for so long again,” Aemond hummed, watching as you and the governess’ hands lingered with one another, then turning back to face you. “Shall we get settled in, my dear?” he asked. You knew exactly what he meant by settling in– and it would be the opposite of what you would be doing.

“It is good to have you back, Lord Targaryen. Let us hope you won’t need to leave again any time soon.” Alys gave a wry smile, regarding you both before curtsying and flittering away.

Aemond led you up the stairs, up to the third floor, where the master bedroom lay. The hallways narrowed as you traversed the home, with Aemond pointing out a few of the key points of the estate to you on the way. Then, he stopped at a gilded pair of double doors, the handles were beautifully complex dragons carved from a deep brown and red cedar, their eyes fashioned from jewels. It was the height of opulence– edging on gaudiness for your taste, but you married into practical royalty, so you couldn’t complain.

Opening them, it revealed a large room decorated in black and green, with the occasional splash of red and gold. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, cornered by a soft reading nook with two plush chairs. The bed was spacious, twice the size of the bed you had at home, which was a king size– you didn’t even know what to classify this size as. Monarch size? Dragon size? It was huge, that was all you knew, furnished in a soft red velvet sheet set.

You walked to the bed, fingers glazing over the silken soft sheets. “This is… the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, my God.” you murmured, beginning to unbutton your outer coat and shed your layers. You wished to feel the plush silk on your bare skin.

“I hope it’s to your liking, love.” Aemond came up behind you, helping you shed your unsightly amount of layers until you were in your silken shift and undergarments. His hand began to wander, bunching up the fabric of your shift and pulling it upward, until he could rest his hand on your bare stomach.

The sensation of his warm hand on your stomach made you flutter slightly, pressing back against him. “Yes, I’d say it’s quite to my liking– though, I suppose we shall put it to the test, won’t we?” you teased, your arm coming up to caress his cheek.

As your hand touched his face, his hand rose up higher and higher, exploring further. His hand found solace atop your corseted brassiere, the tiniest growls of frustration escaping from his lips. His free hand began working double time to undo the series of laces. “You won’t be needing to wear these anymore, my love,” he grumbled, biting softly on your earlobe as he continued his race to undress you. “In fact, I’d like it if you didn’t wear anything at all.”

You giggled, shimmying out of the brassiere, to which he threw aside. “I’m sure that Miss Rivers would find that garish and uncouth, Aemond. I can come to a compromise, though,” you purred, switching around to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you by the hem of his shirt.

“A compromise,” he repeated, “And what sort of compromise would that be?” Aemond asked, kneeling down in front of you now.

“Perhaps I may not wear any undergarments at all under my clothes,” you whispered, craning your neck downward as you tilted his chin upward. “For easier access.”

The sound that came from Aemond could only be categorized as animalistic and primal, his lips melding with yours in a rising fervor. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, his hand pawing at your now freed breast, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple– eliciting a surprised gasp from you. You’d never been touched in such a way and the little spark of pain that went through you mingled with your pleasure. You liked it, conveying this to your husband by increasing the fever pitch of your kisses, mouth parted as your tongues danced together in the most lascivious of ways, as if you were trying to eat one another alive.

“What did I do,” he breathed between your assaults on each other’s mouths. “To deserve such a beautiful wife, hm?” his hand had become permanently rested on your breast, rubbing your stiffened nipple like he was trying to elicit every moan possible from you from just this alone. “A beautiful wife who makes all of the most beautiful little noises?”

You were rendered speechless, your response coming out only as a whine as he pushed you back on the bed, pulling your underwear down. He made a noise of satisfaction at what he saw, seemingly pleased with how you looked, his hand grazing through your wisps of pubic hair before parting your soaked folds. You stared down at him beneath half-lidded eyes, your body heat emanating from you like a furnace, the heights of your cheeks red with pleasure.

Aemond was continually spurred on by your state of being, like you were clay within his hands, and he was the sculptor. He nudged your legs open more, his fingers spreading you open. You whimpered as the cold air hit your core, but it was immediately replaced by a warm heat– his breath fanning over you.

“Please,” was all that could come out of your mouth as you looked at him.

His pupil was blown wide, the blue usually there eclipsed by black as he dragged his tongue over your folds, testing your taste. Humming in contentment with the taste, he went back in for another, lapping over your wet sex, the cleft of his nose rubbing against your clit. You fought the urge to close your legs out of instinct, feeling a warm sensation barrelling toward you as if you needed to relieve yourself. Your eyes were more open now in a slight panic at the feeling, but Aemond just grinned, keeping up his pace and even quickening it.

You grasped at his hair, the white-blonde strands fisted in your hand as you moaned broken strings of his name as your first orgasm washed over you, and in turn, him. You felt a rush of wetness come from your body, which was now glistening upon Aemond’s maw, his mouth still twisted into a smile, like he had just had the greatest meal of his life. He came up between your legs again, unbuckling his belt and discarding his trousers and undergarments without much ceremony– you both didn’t have time for it now, especially when you could see the weeping need coming from him, dripping at the tip of his cock.

His lips found yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t consider yourself a sexual woman really, but God, if this wasn’t the epitome of eroticism– you wanted this moment seared into your brain like a brand.

“I’ll go slow, love,” he breathed, lips barely parted from yours. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded in affirmation, not capable of forming words at the moment. You hope you'll become more adept at dirty talk, just seeing how one ‘Please’ spurred your husband into action like a horse at a derby. You felt the head of his cock swipe against your soaked core, then slowly easing in. The stretch alone, the flame of pain that was just there, right on the precipice, ignited that familiar feeling within you once more. It was goddamn delicious, the feeling of being full, full of your husband– the thought made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt.

The cherry on top, however, was when you finally got a glimpse of Aemond’s face– both of his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, hair strewn mess. He was concentrating so intensely on not bursting inside of you within seconds, as your tightness squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck,” he grunted, his use of foul language sending shocks of pleasure throughout your extremities. “You’re so tight– Christ above.” Aemond began to move then, thrusting back and forth, just to focus his mind on the motions and not to bust a moment in. He murmured praises in your ear, some in English and some in another language you didn’t understand, but it was primal and ancient, you could tell just by how he sounded out the words, and it was no doubt something dirty and more than likely downright feral. “Issa gevie ābrazȳrys, sīr ȳrda, sīr vok. Ry ñuhon, ry ñuhon.” My beautiful wife, so tight, so perfect. All mine, all mine.

Judging by how he pounded into you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, coupled with your cacophony of whines and moans, he was close, chasing his high. His pace hastened and your legs fastened around his midsection to keep him as close as possible– a reaction your body made on its own, seemingly.

A sequence of unintelligible curses and erotic sweet-nothings came from his mouth as he gave one final push– a low, reverberating grunt coming from the depths of his chest as he stilled, spending inside of you. His lips smeared against your neck, nothing coming from his mouth but hefty pants.

You both caught your breaths and he softened inside of you, then cleaned you both up after– you would’ve helped as well, but your legs were jelly, and simply refused to pick you up from the bed. Aemond was more than happy to pick you up and tuck you under the covers, holding you close to him, as if you might fly away during the night.

You dreamed of dark hallways and pale visages looking upon you– you woke up several times during the night, seeing pairs of eyes staring at you, pity in their ghastly gaze. You would fall back asleep and think nothing of it.

–

“Looking at something, dearest?” Aemond hummed, his thumb parting another page further into the book he was reading, the room illuminated in candlelight. It had been a whole fortnight since you moved into the estate– you had been able to sit down and write even more, and Aemond had helped you send off your manuscript to a reputable publisher in London, who was a family friend of the Targaryens. You began your second novel, which was inspired by Dragonstone Hall and the odd dreams you’d had as of late, laden with peering eyes and ghostly figures.

You were perched on the window seat, the silk of your nightgown clinging to you like a second skin. Moving forward, you looked down upon the courtyard and beyond, seeing the moonlit horizon painting the sea, waves ebbing and flowing like beautiful clockwork. Glancing over your shoulder to your husband, his usual harsh features softened by the gentle flicker of the bee’s wax candles. A smile crept on your lips, which in turn, caused his own to upturn into a returning grin. “Just enjoying the view of the sea.”

“‘Tis dark, my love,” he closed the book, setting it aside. “Are you an owl and I did not know it? Seeing in the dark?” he got up from his position on the bed, making his way to you.

“Perhaps I am an owl,” you giggled, “But the moon and sky are especially clear tonight– a perfect view.”

He perched his chin upon your shoulder, looking out of the window with you. “A clear sky. That must be a good omen, hm? Alys has told me that it was storming constantly while I was gone.”

“A good omen indeed,” you purred, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, looking down into the courtyard, you could’ve sworn you saw two men, ghastly white, walking upon the green. But when you turned your head to get another look, Aemond enveloped your lips into a kiss, pulling you back towards him, and back towards your bed. You didn’t get another glimpse at the courtyard until it was cloudy and dark once again.

No one was there.

–

“Oh, hello, Miss Rivers,” you murmur softly, your voice still hoarse with sleep. You brush a few errant curls away from your face as you go to pour yourself a cup of tea, bare feet padding upon the tiled kitchen floor. “Good morning.”

“Just Alys is fine, dear,” she smiles, her emerald eyes shining clearly– she must’ve already been wide awake for a few hours. “Please, let me.” Alys sits up from her chair, moving near you and pouring water from the kettle into your cup before you could even grab it.

You glance up at her– she was much taller than you, like Aemond– a feeling of embarrassment coming over you. “Oh– thank you,” you manage to muster, “But it… it isn’t necessary, Mis– Alys.”

The older woman looks at you with an expression of curiosity, you had said something truly novel. “Ah. You aren’t like the others, then. Good.” she smiled, the sides of her mouth crinkling. Something about it made your heart skip a beat– what was going on?

“The others?” you asked, stirring your cup which was now steeping with a fruity, floral tea bag. You scooped a heap of sticky honey from a reserve of it on the counter, preferring your tea extra sweet.

Alys watched as you stirred in the thick substance, before lifting her eyes to you. “The other– former– denizens of the estate, my lady. Lord Targaryen’s other family. Excellent employers, but they always asked for me to do things beyond my job description. Pour tea, serve lunch, draw baths." She took a seat then at the small kitchen table, but not before grabbing the entire jar of honey, putting it in the middle.

You took a seat across from her. “As a… governess, your job is to care for and educate children, correct?” you crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against the wooden backing of the chair, which was carved with intricate depictions of dragons and swords.

“Correct, my lady. Sometimes the estate was bereft of children, thus no one to care for or teach. Between you and I, sometimes the adults acted as overgrown children, demanding and grabby,” she spooned honey into her own cup, which was a dark, swirling liquid you couldn’t quite identify. “As it is now– but more so. You, Lord Targaryen, and I are the only denizens of the Keep.”

You coughed slightly as you heard her. The only ones? There were only three of you at this massive estate– and… what of the faces you saw when you arrived? The men you saw out in the courtyard just the eve before? You placed down your cup with a shaky hand. “P-pardon me,” you sputtered, hitting a hand upon your chest to try and catch your breath. “We are the only ones?” you looked at Alys with wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear. But this building is centuries upon centuries old, you know. Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Targaryen?”

You perked up at the notion, the part of your brain that loved the macabre and weird firing off on all cylinders. “Oh, yes! They interest me quite greatly.”

Alys gave a lopsided smile, her brows perked as if surprised by your reaction. “I didn’t expect such… an enthusiastic response, my lady. Most women are afraid of such ghastly notions.” she leaned forward, propping her chin on her open palm. “The estate is haunted, you know, by centuries of Targaryens past and then some.”

“Oh, you must tell me their names and stories,” you leaned forward in turn, mimicking her interest in the conversation and then some, fully enraptured by the tales of tragedy, of love long lost, betrayal and beyond.

The two of you ended up talking at the table for hours, until the sun was high in the sky to indicate noon– you only parted with her when Aemond had come into the kitchen to request your presence in the gardens. He was quite amused that you and Alys had melded together so quickly– he quoted you as ‘two barn owls, flitting feathers in the rafters and sharing stories over a juicy mouse’.

It made you giggle.

–

From that day on, your days started and ended much the same. You would be excited, giddy, like a kid on Christmas morn, to go down and talk to Alys. You didn’t quite understand why you were so excited to be around her, why she enraptured you so– it felt good to entertain her and make her laugh, much in the same vein as you felt doing similar for Aemond.

You admired her, in a way, she was such a strong woman, yet unmarried and without children. But she cited that she didn’t need them, the husband at least. She had confessed to you that she had been married before, long ago in her youth. ‘Young, dumb and in love’, she had explained it– only to find out that she was unable to have children. Your heart clenched as she told her story, how she desperately wanted children of her own and went into governess work to have some semblance of it.

In turn, you opened your heart to Alys, confiding about your mother and the struggles with losing her at such a young age. You cried and embraced her, to which she returned wholeheartedly– but she didn’t cry.

Your nights would come to a close within Aemond’s grasp, whether upon the bed, prostrated on his desk, or in the reading nook. ‘Twas a dreamy life for you.

You woke on a particularly dreary morning, over three months after your marriage, the downpour of sodden English weather clouding the skies and dampening the moods of everyone involved. Lightning struck, thunder rumbling the ground thoroughly and without mercy. When you stepped out of your bedroom, Aemond was still asleep– he had worked through the night on a massive proposal to the Lord of the next town over, working out some trade routes to have fresh fruit brought up to the estate in exchange for the homegrown honey.

Your bare feet padded on the wooden floors, they were cold and the air felt… thick and slightly electrified. It sent your head into a tizzy as you grabbed the metal knob of the washroom door, feeling a sparking jolt go through you. It shocked you! Rattled, but undeterred, you put your hand on the knob again and attempted to open it, only to be met with another tremor of electricity, stinging the palm of your hand.

“Come on,” you groaned in frustration, practically crossing your legs by how badly you needed to relieve yourself. Electroshock therapy be damned, you wouldn’t be shut out of the privy any longer. You pressed your shoulder to the door, twisting the knob as it continually pestered you with numbing sparks, then gave the door a firm push– it gave away, opening and sending you sprawling to the floor at a high velocity. You landed on your knees, face inches away from the lip of the tub; you cringed as you imagined the sight of your face smashed to a jelly, bleeding out upon the floor. Small mercies.

Pulling yourself up, you glanced over the bathtub, using it as leverage to get up. Upon looking into it, you saw something you never expected to– a woman, nude and red haired with translucent skin was curled in the bath in a fetal position, her throat slashed and bleeding red rivulets, blending into the small droplets of water that lined the tub. You were too surprised to scream, pushing yourself back from the tub and once again sprawling to the floor, mouth agape.

You were going insane– surely…

Your heart was in your throat as you eased up, glancing back into the tub. The woman was gone, the porcelain lining of the tub clean as could be.

Mayhaps Alys’ ghost stories had gotten to you, more than you thought?

Turning around to finally use the privy, you were in awe that you didn’t piss yourself, you sat down on the toilet, your head in your hands as you emptied your overly full bladder. It was silent, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the stained glass window pane, the distant rumble of thunder and… heavy breathing. You stopped your own breaths– the sound consisted. It was right in front of you.

With shaky hands slowly moving away from your eyes, you looked upon who was in front of you. It was the woman you saw in the bathtub– her neck still bleeding, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face stained with tears and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily with her ghastly breaths as she stared right at you. Her jaw was broken, mouth off kilter as it was agape with her labored puffs, teeth askew and rotted. You still felt like you weren’t breathing, your heart pattering like a hummingbird in your chest, about to explode.

“Who. Are. You.” she asked, voice far away and broken, like a whisper on the wind.

“L-Lady Targaryen,” you responded, your head pounding in sync with your heart– you felt like you were about to pass out.

The woman looked at you, her already wide eyes widening beyond the point they should even be able to, the sclera eclipsed in pure red, tinging on inky black ichor. Her hand, gaunt and bony, raised to you, her pointer finger pointing at you, inches away. “You,” she hissed. “You. Won’t leave this place. You. Will die. And stay here. Bones and all. Sinew and muscle, pulled from flesh.”

“W-who are you? How can I help you?” you whispered frantically, your entire body shaking.

Her mouth twisted into a sickly smile. “You. Cannot help. For I– am you. Lady Targaryen. One. Of many.”

You blinked, eyes roving to think of something to respond– but when you looked up, she was gone. The air was normal and the storm outside had quelled. It was as if nothing had happened. You sat still on the toilet, eyes open until they started to burn.

What just happened? Are you truly going mad?

You rushed downstairs after, almost tripping and falling at least twice along the way. You rushed to find Alys, who you hoped would quell your mind like the storm had been.

“Alys,” you croaked, flying into the kitchen like a bat out of hell. “Alys, Alys,” you blubbered, you weren’t sure when you started crying.

She was sitting at the table, up in an instant. “My dear, my dear, what’s happened? Are you alright?” she crooned, arms around you instantly.

“I-I… please, promise you won’t think I’m mad–”

“We are all mad in some ways, dearest. You can tell me anything.” she hummed, sitting you down on your chair and fixing your tea for you, bringing over the fresh honey, the comb still attached.

“T-there was a woman,” you breathed, your finger slicing across your neck to indicate where her bleeding wound had been. “S-she… she… she said I’m going to die?” you took your tea with a shaky hand, sipping, but it didn’t help calm you. “I-I’m a horror author, I shouldn’t be scared of this sort of thing, Alys! What is wrong with me? I’m going mad.”

“Shh, shh, dove,” she instructed, pulling her chair around the table to sit close to you, arm still around you. “Just breathe– did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Y-yes– I.. I think so,” you murmured, hands still shaking.

Alys took your hand in hers, the other going to spoon some honey from the bowl. She roved small smoothing circles over the back of your palm. “You must get more rest, dearest. I’ll make you a tea tonight, it will help,” she whispered, her mouth close to your ear as she guided the spoon of honey, comb and all, towards your mouth. “Open.”

You had to chalk it up to the storm, the nightmare or whatever you could categorize your encounter with the ghostly woman as, but you recused yourself into Alys’ touch, eyes trained taut upon her as you opened your mouth. She spooned the honey onto your tongue, pulling the utensil away with a sticky trail of saliva and honey– to which she proceeded to lick off.

Your head was swirling– you had admired Alys and thought her beautiful from the moment you saw her and you always liked women. You thought them soft and warm and could fill a certain void within you left by the death of your mother– but you had never… thought of a woman in a romantic light, surely? Your heart skipped a beat as you were so close to her, mouth parted. You could smell her light perfume, a lovely scent of vanilla and floral notes.

The same feeling of elation that you felt when Aemond caressed you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings to you was prominent in the pit of your stomach. You could count the speckles of light hazel in her emerald eyes from your close proximity. It was unsure who closed the gap first– but your lips melded to Alys’, tasting the sweet honey on her mouth, swiping your tongue across them to gather the syrupy nectar. Her hand caressed the back of your neck so tenderly as you pressed closer together, mouths parting to envelop each other’s tongues until the tastes of both of you were one in the same– saccharine, cloying, sticky sugar.

You had forgotten who you were or where you were, only enjoying the moment with Alys, when you heard the rumble of thunder off in the distance, it broke you from your union. Panic washed over you, your face going beet red.

What had you done?

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likeabxrdinflight · 7 months

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Naturally I have a lot of thoughts about Azula's role in the live action adaptation. I'd say about 95% of them are positive thoughts.

First of all, I love that she is this baby-faced, squishy-cheeked kid (I know her actress is a little older than the character but that's okay.) At Elizabeth Yu's age, I also easily passed for 14-15, she just has a young-looking face and clearly hasn't lost all her baby fat. And that is perfect, actually. I've criticized the sharpness and angularity of the animated Azula many times over, she has always looked far too old for her canonical age. I've said it before and I'll say it again- it's a problem that so many people watched the original cartoon and thought Azula was older than Zuko. I can't even blame them for it, she's drawn to look 20 or older. So it is wonderful to see a version of Azula who looks closer to her canonical age. I think it really drives home the point.

That said, this Azula is definitely different than her animated counterpart in other ways. The animated Azula was (almost) always perfectly in control. She could become angry and snap at people- but it was fairly rare, Azula always seemed the image of perfect calm, control, and precision. She was deadly precisely because she was so cool and collected and did not get easily rankled. This was also part of what made her breakdown so shocking.

The thing is, the breakdown is not especially foreshadowed prior to season three. There are a few moments that show the chinks in Azula's armor, but most of them don't come until "The Beach," and then after Mai and Ty Lee's betrayal. I've always believed that betrayal was the real inciting incident for her eventual psychotic break- I've argued before that it sent Azula into what's called a prodromal state, which is like a sort of "pre-psychosis."

More on the animated version's mental state here

Point being, there's really only one instance in season two that suggests any flaws to Azula's cool exterior, and it's one of her very first scenes. You know the one: "almost isn't good enough." It makes for a very subtle build-up to the breakdown and her eventual fall. But it comes at the cost of depicting her predominantly as a capital-V Villain prior to it. You're not really supposed to sympathize with Azula until "The Beach," arguably not until "Into the Inferno." For most of the animated show's run, you're supposed to find her scary and threatening.

And this is done effectively- almost too effectively. She's an obvious foil to Zuko, and serves as such a good primary antagonist that they had to neutralize her in the finale by giving her the breakdown. It's like they knew there was no way a healthy Azula was going to be beatable during Sozin's Comet. She appeared to be an effortlessly talented fire bender, a brilliant strategist, and a more dangerous opponent than even Ozai.

Live action Azula does not have this same feeling to her. There is still something "scary" about her- we see her watching people being burned alive with little to no reaction, and her face is quite blank at Zuko's Agni Kai. She's still cunning and still willing to manipulate things to her advantage- we see this in how she plays Zhao. So if this version gets a season two I have no doubt that this Azula will still serve as a dangerous antagonist to the Gaang and I don't doubt this is still an Azula capable of bringing down Ba Sing Se.

But she's not quite the calm, collected character she first seemed in the animated version. This Azula is a little less hinged. She has more moments of snapping and losing some of that perfect control. She's more frustrated and feels more at the mercy of her father. She reads far more like the Azula we saw in "The Phoenix King," the one who talked back and protested that her father couldn't treat her like Zuko. That Azula, however, was about one bad night's sleep away from a psychotic break. This Azula, presumably, isn't there yet.

I can agree that something of her original character gets lost when you essentially start foreshadowing the breakdown from the jump. It's not gonna be a surprise to any new audiences. She's not gonna be quite the same. But it does humanize her much sooner than the original show did, and it asks the audience to consider her circumstances from the jump- is this a sympathetic character or not? I obviously think she is in the original, and I do think in the end she was meant to be. But it's much more of a debate. The live action show unequivocally says "yes" and does not make it a debate at all.

I'd be tempted to say it's not trusting the audience to read between the lines, but given all the Azula discourse...they might be right to take this more direct approach.

Anyways. Live action Azula also feels more like a real teenager. She's petty, she's irritable, she's desperate to remain in her father's favor and beat her brother in the artificial competition her father has set up between them and will go to any lengths to do so- lengths she probably wouldn't have in the cartoon. She has a strong drive to prove herself and to protect the image she constructs about herself as the "perfect daughter." But that image also feels far more fragile than it did in the animated version.

This Azula doesn't say that "almost [perfect] isn't good enough." She says that "it [perfect] isn't good enough." It's a subtle but meaningful difference.

(Side note- I think the reason this Azula is fine shooting lightning in the direction of her father, seemingly in defiance of his orders, is a direct result of the change to the Agni Kai- she watched as Ozai berated and burned Zuko for not giving him his all, versus in the original where Zuko's sin was in not fighting back period. So here she's showing Ozai her "all", she's giving him everything she has to prove she's capable of doing more than Zuko running drills and smoking out resistance rings.)

I like this change. I like this more desperate, more grounded take on Azula. She feels like a real girl in a horrendous home environment. This Azula was raised in a family where it's expected you be cool with setting people on fire in the throne room and where there's a tangible symbol of Daddy's love sitting beneath him at all times. This Azula was forged in the fires of competition and manipulation that's more subtle than the animated Ozai ever seemed capable of. (More on Ozai later, but he's a much more subtle character than his animated counterpart despite still being...pretty blatantly Evil). So I think it makes sense that she's not quite as calm and controlled and perfect as the animated version.

I don't know yet which version I'll prefer when all is said and done- she was ultimately a minor role in this season. Animated Azula is iconic and always will be, but there's a lot I've always been critical of about how she was depicted in the original show. I think a lot of us that love and empathize with Azula do so despite the way she was written, not because of it. This version might change things a little.

But it also might make it seem infinitely more cruel if she isn't given some kind of redemptive ending (or at least one that implies some hope for her.) The bleak ending of the original show might feel really bad for this more sympathetic version of Azula. So if they stick with that...I dunno. It could hit or miss.

For now, I like what I'm seeing. And Elizabeth Yu understood the assignment.

#natla spoilers #natla #azula #hopefully mai and ty lee get more development in season two #they were kinda just...there in season one #also I strongly suspect this adaptation will cut azula's recruitment of them in season two and just have them with her from the jump

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landos-meat-rider · 1 year

Text

1999, part four - final part!

oh my gosh. final part and what a surprise, she's a long one again💀💀ive loved writing this silly little series so so much and i love all of you very very much🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽please give me requests on what to write next bc my mind is completely blank rn, all i can think of is the cold war and bolsheviks from my history revison and i dont think they would make v good fics🤡🤡

lmk what you think of this part and your fav moments, enjoy!!

warnings: tiny angst, mostly fluff, swearing

conrad fisher masterlist

masterlist

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conrad’s pov

Since Y/n is unable to hold a phone herself, I'm tasked with a lot, but I didn't fully realize the worry of her family until she had me working through each task with her.

No wonder she’s overwhelmed. The number of texts from Laurel, Mom, Belly, Jere and Steven she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane.

Or maybe I'm just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different texts with her uninjured hand.

I can tell her nerves grow stronger as the Uber near the hospital.

Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, confusing me more and more with every word.

The work doesn't stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out. Y/n stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.

"Here." I pass it to her.

Her eyes shift toward the exit. "Will you help me please? I can't write like this." Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.

"Okay. Tell me your answers and I'll write them down."

Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question.

"Do you mind reading the questions aloud for me? I'm too stressed to concentrate right now." Her overcompensating smile irritates me.

"Are you sure? Some of the questions are probably personal."

Don't be a dick. Just do what she says.

"I don't care.”

The rigid way she sits in her chair says the complete opposite.

She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question. The paperwork doesn't take us as long as I anticipated, so Y/n and I sit together in silence. She stares at the exit longingly.

The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.

“If it's any consolation, I hate hospitals too."

Her head swings toward the direction of my voice.

"Yeah?"

I nod. "Haven't been to one since…"

"I know." she says as she sees my chest heaves as I remember the millions of times we’ve been here before.

I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner.

Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I'm grateful she understands me enough not to ask any other questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal of the years I've spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.

"I hate them too." Her voice cracks.

"Why?"

She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. "Let's just say mom ended up in the ER a couple of times for being clumsy."

I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "And did you have issues with being clumsy?" If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.

She shakes her head rather aggressively. "No. No." My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. "If you were, you can tell me." While I can't promise I won't do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt. A lot. With sulfuric acid or something, those pre-med studies are starting to come in handy now.

The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don't shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.

"It never got to that point. Suze made sure of it." she says with a small smile.

"How?"

"She caught onto the signs and interfered before things got bad. Used her savings from my grandpa's life insurance policy to help Mom get a divorce and start a new life." A tear slips down her face, and I can't stand the sight of it.

I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, but the damp trail still lingers. A driving force inside of me wants to erase the sad look on her face. "Did her plan also happen to include a jug of sulfuric acid?"

She forces out a laugh. "I think concrete shoes were more in style back then."

I fake shudder. "Remind me to never make mom angry again."

"Forget her, you'd have to deal with me." She holds up her injured hand like a war trophy.

"I'm absolutely terrified."

"Miss Y/n?" a nurse calls out.

Y/n doesn't move at the sound of her name.

"That's you." I place my hand on her thigh and give it a squeeze.

She sucks in a deep breath as she stares down at my hand.

Her chair nearly tumbles behind her as she bolts out of the seat, throwing her one good hand up in the air. "I'm here!"

The nurse leads us through the emergency room bay.

Individual beds line the wall, each area divided by a paper curtain.

The empty bed meant for Y/n is unacceptable. Between the person retching behind one partition and the individual on the other side hacking up their lung, I refuse to let her be seen here.

"I'd like my…my friend, to be taken care of in a private suite," I speak up. I know I sound snotty right now but honestly, I’ll be damned if I let her already horrible hospital experience get any worse.

The nurse grimaces as her gaze licks across my body. "This is a hospital. Not the Ritz. Take a seat and wait for the doctor like everyone else."

Y/n hops on the bed without any complaint, and I'm tempted to grab her and go elsewhere. The nurse doesn't seem the least bit bothered by all the noise happening around us as she checks Y/n’s vitals and asks some routine questions.

Y/n answers each one while chewing her bottom lip raw. This atmosphere couldn't put anyone at ease, least of all her.

The nurse hangs the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and I decide to try again.

"I'll pay whatever it takes to have her seen somewhere quieter. Money is no object."

The nurse only replies by shutting the paper curtain in my face.

Y/n laughs while I stare at the curtain, dumbfounded to be treated like this.

"You find this funny?"

She nods, her eyes alight for the first time all night. "Did you see her face when you said money is no object? I think if she didn't put the clipboard away, she would have slapped your face with it."

"It's not my fault she isn't accustomed to how things are done in the real world."

"Wake up baby. You're living in the real world." She waves around our room.

"It's terrifying." I say, looking away so she couldn’t see the blush that appeared on my face at the nickname.

"Come here. I'II make it better." Y/n pats the bed.

Doubtful, but I'm a glutton for giving her what she wants lately. Paper crinkles as I sit next to her. I take up most of the bed, giving her little room to get away from me. My thigh brushes against hers. She tries to scoot away, but there isn't enough space.

“Isn’t this cozy?" she quips.

I give her a small smile before she asks, “Hey! Let me see your tattoo.”

God I’d forgotten all about them. I move the collar of my shirt to show the two small ivy leaves we’d gotten. She gasps and gently touches my skin, “Oh my gosh it’s so pretty Connie.” she stares at it for a moment before I ask to see hers.

She lifts up her shirt on the side, exposing her ribcage and the two matching leaves.

“I can’t believe you agreed to get a Taylor Swift referenced tattoo with me Con.” she says as I admire the tattoo for a bit.

I smile until saying, “Hey I might be quiet and mopey but at least I have good taste in music.”

She softly smiles at me before eyeing the IV bag with horror before checking out the exit.

"What’s wrong?”

She leans closer to me and whispers, "Is now a bad time to admit I pass out whenever someone tries to stick a needle in me?"

My lips lift at the corners. I don't know why I find the idea hilarious, given her ability to watch eight consecutive hours of true crime documentaries without so much as flinching.

"You're afraid of needles?"

She sputters. "No. I'm not afraid. It just happens to be a bodily reaction I can't control."

“That's good then because the nurse needs to set you up with that IV when she comes back."

“No! Don't tell me that! I thought she was one of the good ones.”

I nod, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from laughing.

"She lied to me!" She bolts from the seat and would have tripped over her own heels if I didn't reach out and catch her.

*Careful." I place her back on the bed and decide to stand guard in case she gets any ideas to flee the scene.

Her eyes fit from me to the gap between two curtains, as if she is thinking how she can get past me.

"I'm joking.”

She scans my face for the truth before she slaps my shoulder with her good hand. "Asshole! I believed you!"

Laughter explodes out of me like a bomb, stunning her.

“Did you just laugh?”

"No."

“Yes." Someone calls out from the other side of the curtain.

“Now, do you mind shutting up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep over here after having our stomach pumped."

Fuck this place and the people in here. "We're leaving."

"Not so fast. You can't leave before I check you out." The doctor strolls in and points at the bed with his clipboard.

Y/n remains tight-lipped as the doctor checks her chart. He asks her some questions about how she got hurt, all while staring me up and down like I'm the person she was trying to injure. She is taken away for a few scans, and my breathing doesn't return to normal until the nurse brings her back.

That should be my first sign that things are getting out of hand on my end. I'm inching closer to an emotional minefield without any kind of map, only one wrong step away from exploding.

The doctor checks the scans. "It looks like you have a boxer's fracture."

Her face brightens. "That sounds badass."

I glare at her. "Calm down, Muhammad Ali. I wouldn't count today as a victory by any means."

The doctor's eyes lighten. "Next time, avoid any initial contact on the fourth and fifth knuckles."

"Please don't encourage her."

The doctor shakes his head with a laugh before giving Y/n a detailed set of instructions regarding the healing time. I'm skeptical about the whole visit and, given the setting, doubtful about the level of care. I'll be damned if Y/n sustains permanent injuries because of Dean. My chest tightens at the idea.

“Great Thanks, Doc!" She hops off the bed, but I hold my arm out, stopping her

"I’d like a second opinion." The command bursts out of me without any rhyme or reason. Deep down, I know a boxer's fracture isn't the worst thing that could have happened. But things aren't right in my head where Y/n is concerned. At least not anymore.

Both of the doctor's eyebrows arch. "For a small fracture?"

"Don't mind him. He tends to be a bit overbearing." She shoots me a look as if I'm the crazy one out of the two of us.

"Okay..." the doctor says.

Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care?

You hate it when she cries.

You wouldn't mind murdering someone who hurt her.

You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every fibre of your being.

The signs all point to one thing: our situation is quickly crumbling, and I'm the only one to blame.

Y/n interrupts my thoughts. "I'll be sure to wear the brace for a few weeks and avoid any kind of activities that could aggravate the injury."

"Perfect. And don't forget to schedule a follow-up visit with your physician. "The doctor gives me one last look before handing Y/n the discharge paperwork. "Nice meeting you."

"Will you help me with this?" She holds out the clipboard with her left hand as the doctor leaves.

I grab it from her and fill it out.

She checks the time on her phone. "Well, at least that didn't take as long as I thought it would. I'm sure you're dying to get back home."

That's the scary thing. I didn't think about anything or anyone once during our entire time here because making sure she was taken care of was my only concern. I've spent the past seventeen years of my life thinking solely about my future, and all it took was one girl to make me completely forget about my responsibilities for a few hours.

As if that doesn't scare me enough, it only takes one glance at her makeshift brace to make my blood burn hot under my skin. I know exactly why her injury angers me more than anything else.

It's the same reason I feel the urge to push Jere away from her whenever he gets too close or the way I unexplainably need to see her whenever she is out of my sight for longer than a few hours.

You’re in love with her.

Fuck.

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y/n’s pov

We’re in an Uber on the way home, sitting in comfortable silence until Conrad breaks it.

“Why’d you get with Dean anyway?” My stomach doubles over.

Comfortable silence is so overrated.

I sigh. I’ve been dreading this question for ages now.

“I don’t know.” I answer vaguely.

Conrad gives me a puzzled look, “What do you mean you don't know? You must’ve had a reason.”

His restlessness gets me more agitated.

“I don’t know Conrad. I don’t know why I got with him, I don’t know why I was waiting on you for so long either.” I look out the window as the car stops in front of the house.

“What? What do you mean?” he says as I get out the car and speed up to the front door, taking the keys out of my pocket and refusing to carry on with this conversation anymore.

Conrad keeps yelling after me as he follows me upstairs to my room, both of us trying to ignore everyone else who joined Conrad and are trying to ask their own questions.

I slam my door shut and collapse on my bed hearing Conrad trying to calm everyone down and telling them everything that's happened until he asks them all to give me some space for now.

I cry in the silence as I hear everyone leaving from outside the door until it opens.

“Hey.”

Steven. Thank God.

“Steve…” I say sniffling.

He looks at me with a sad smile before sitting on the bed with me and taking me in his arms.

“Con told us everything,” he says after a few minutes of holding me, “did you really get a boxer's fracture?”

I laugh in tears before showing him my hand and saying, “You should see the other guy.”

Steven and I laugh together before going back to the silence as he hugs me.

“He really cares about you, you know.”

“No he doesn’t. He hates me. I yelled at him and now I’m crying here on my bed like an idiot.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Steven looks down at me.

I shake my head before saying, “He asked why I got with Dean.”

“Oh. That’s not too bad.”

“No it’s not.��

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for Conrad for so long and I’m just sick and tired of always being there to help him get over his breakups when he’d be so much better off with me. I know I sound selfish and none of my reasons are justified but I just thought that after everything we’ve been through together, he’d maybe like me just a little bit.”

Steven hugs me again and softly says, “He does.”

After that almost everyone but Conrad came in to check up on me and make sure I was okay, making me feel even more guilty about being all emotional like this. It’s not until Susannah’s holding me and whispering sweet nothings that my eyes start to feel heavy.

I think I fell asleep after that, I don’t remember much except waking up to the sun shining its very unwelcome face in my eyes.

I step out of my room after freshening up and I’m about to make my way to the kitchen for food until I’m stopped by something in the hallway.

Or should I say someone.

“Conrad,” I bend down and stroke his hair out of his face, “Conrad wake up.” I say gently.

He stirs for a minute before sitting up and taking my hands in his.

“Have you been out here all night?” I ask.

“Yes.” he says in a raspy voice.

God that voice would make my knees give out if I wasn’t already on the floor with him.

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

I sigh before he interrupts me, “Listen, I heard everything you said to Steven last night and I know I shouldn’t have and I was eavesdropping but I’m sorry it was by accident. And I know I don’t deserve any more of your time…I’ve already wasted a lot of it but just hear me out for ten minutes.”

“No.” I try to get out of his grasp.

“Stop fighting and give me ten minutes.”

“No way.”

“Nine then.”

“Five.”

“Eight and a half.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

I pause, knowing that he won’t let me go anywhere before I hear him out.

“You don’t deserve seven seconds, let alone seven minutes of my time.”

“How about seven words then?”

I laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I am falling in love with you.”

I blink up at him. Either I am still sleeping or I must have not heard him correctly because there is no way Conrad Fisher just admitted that he is falling in love with me.

Absolutely no fucking way.

Right?

I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can erase the words from my memory.

"You're joking.

"I'm not."

"This is just another part of your game." I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge.

"It stopped being a game for me a long time ago."

"You're lying."

His brows pull together. "Ask me why I hate when people touch my bookshelf."

"Are you serious right now? What does that have to do with any of this?" I think back to his bookshelf he won’t let any of the others go near but loves to let me organise and re-organise each year.

"Because I did it for you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I read somewhere online that organising objects like books and things is good for people with anxiety, because then they can feel in control of something and know exactly what to expect especially if things are the same as they've predicted all the time. You love reading too, so I changed it. Bought all the books you like to read so that you’d stay and read with me more often. I forced everyone else out of my room and especially away from that bookshelf. All because I wanted to help you."

Emotions clog my throat, preventing my ability to reply.

What can I possibly say that could compare to that?

Conrad doesn't give me an option as he continues. "Want to know why I kept this plant you got me?" he says pointing to the small green cactus with “Don’t be a prick” written on the pot that we could see looking into his room from the hallway.

I nod.

"Because it was the first time someone got me a present that made me laugh."

If hearts could melt into puddles, mine would be liquified right about now.

I take a deep breath.

Remember what he did.

“Con that doesn't change anything you still ignored me for a whole year. Every time I tried to call you or text you, you’d just leave me on read or decline, and now you’re telling me you love me? Who does that?"

"Someone who doesn't understand the first thing about loving someone, but is willing to try if you give me a chance."

"You want me to give you a chance after everything? Do you think I'm stupid?"

He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.

"Intelligence has nothing to do with this."

"Easy for you to say when you're not the one who feels like a fool."

"Really? Because based on your reaction today, I'm feeling pretty damn foolish for ever admitting that I'm falling in love with you." He gets up off the floor, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.

"Con..." I reach out, but he takes a step back.

My eyes sting from his rejection. It hurts.

“I’m not asking you to love me back. I don't expect that and I'm not sure if I ever will because I'm the furthest thing for lovable. I'm selfish, and rude, and don't know the first thing about being in a proper relationship with someone. But that doesn't mean I’m not willing to try for you if you let me."

How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is unlovable?

A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.

I get up off the floor and walk straight into his chest. His arms quickly wrap themselves around my waist, holding me even tighter.

"Just because you make selfish choices doesn't mean you're a selfish person. At least not completely."

This boy had been there for Belly, Steven, me and Jere for years without any kind of payback, especially when Susannah was going through her cancer and despite feeling an immense amount of pain himself, he shoved all his emotions aside so that he could be there for us. For me. If that isn't a selfless sacrifice, I don't know what is.

"Your logic is half-baked at best."

"So is yours, seeing as you called yourself unlovable."

His body tenses. "I'm stating facts."

"I don't know what bullshit your father told you over the years, but it's not true. Your brother loves you."

"He’s obligated to."

"No one is obligated to love someone else. Blood or not."

He takes a deep breath. "You're right."

I smile up at him. "I could get used to hearing those words."

He reaches up and cups my cheek. "Give me a chance and I'll tell you them every single day."

I sigh and look away. "I don't know.”

"Tell me what's stopping you."

"You don't do relationships."

“Good thing our feelings lead us here rather than our minds, and mine are willing to try then."

I avoid his penetrating gaze. "What if my feelings are telling me to run?”

“It's cute you think you can outrun me, but I'll give you a head start just to make things interesting." he smiles down at me.

"Do you always have an answer for everything?"

"Not for the one that matters most." The way he looks at me stirs up something deep inside of me.

Longing. I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.

You might get hurt.

I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the what ifs. I'm done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I'd rather try and fail than never try at all.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his.

He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.

I pull away, only to clasp onto his chin. "This could be a disaster, but I'm willing to try."

He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal. The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected.

Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.

I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn't enough. While Conrad might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.

He is falling in love with me. And I’m falling in love with him. No translation necessary.

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ahh i cant believe its finished omg😔💔...

anyways, onto the next one😍🙏

again please lmk what you think of this and please give me requests on what to do next!!

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #fanfic #fics #tsitp #belly conklin #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin #the summer i turned pretty #1999 #conrad x reader fluff #conrad x y/n angst #conrad x y/n fluff #conrad x reader #conrad x y/n

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cloud-somersault · 20 days

Note

Pre reconciliation, if macaque/wukong thought the other was flirting with someone, would he get jealous? And would he admit to himself he was jealous?

Hmm 🤔sure, alright.

If Wukong saw someone flirting with Macaque pre-reconciliation, he'd get really huffy and angry, but not be sure why. And he'd probably make a fool out of himself like. Going up to Macaque and asking, "WHY?? Are you talking to that guy, like. What are you doing?"

And Macaque would just raise a brow. "I can't talk to people anymore?"

"No! I mean, yes, you can, but--"

"You have a problem with who I talk to?"

And Wukong would get flustered and be like... "No, I just don't want... I just don't think you should be talking to just anyone."

And Macaque would know that Wukong's jealous, and he'd probably tease him like. "Really? You hate me, but you're still getting jealous? Seems like you're confused; we're not together anymore."

Wukong would get angry/sad about that and back off, and he'd go quiet and try and figure his feelings out. He'd kinda slowly accept that he still has feelings for Macaque even with all the anger and betrayal and abandonment issues going on.

Macaque would get jealous, too, but he'd be a touch more subtle about it. Kind of. He'd poke and pester Wukong like "Is there a reason you're giving this person the time of day?" type question and Wukong is just "??? They're my friend?? What.."

Macaque would probably say something rude about this "friend" that he doesn't truly mean, and Wukong would get mad at him for it, so then he has to either back off or apologize. And he wouldn't apologize.

And Mac knows he's jealous. He'd probably be petty and cause this "friend" to slip and fall or teleport them away or whatever. Just to separate them from Wukong. Just because. Macaque likes having Wukong's attention, even if it's negative, especially pre-reconciliation.

They're both v possessive of the other, so they'd. definitely get jealous. it would just be a huge mess 😂

#constellations fic #ask #anon #constellations shadowpeach

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kindlythevoid · 9 months

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Jason Todd’s Reading List

(bc I got tricked deceived shown a comic list of his best appearances instead of the classics that this boy would be reading)

(And then I got carried away so now it’s organized by phase)

(Enjoy and feel free to add as I haven’t read his comics nor a ton of classics~)

Jason’s Reading List:

(this is what I imagine he read as a child; books that Sheila read to him, or if he spent time in the library during story time or checked out books; pre-Robin days)

The Secret Garden

The Three Musketeers

The Wizard of Oz

Alice in Wonderland

Sherlock Holmes

Jason Todd-Wayne’s Reading List:

(so this isn’t quite what I imagine him reading for fun as Robin, so much as what I imagine he read during his school years as Bruce Wayne’s adopted son; books that he may not have picked up on his own otherwise)

To Kill a Mockingbird

Of Mice and Men

The Great Gatsby

Old Man and The Sea

Great Expectations

The Scarlett Letter

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The Tempest

Anthony and Cleopatra

The Odyssey

Gulliver’s Travels

Doctor Faustus

Robin’s Reading List:

(these are books that he definitely read in his free time, absolutely found in the Wayne Library and you cannot convince me that he and Alfred didn’t/don’t have a little book club)

Pride and Prejudice

Emma

Sense and Sensibility

Persuasion

Northanger Abbey

Mansfield Park

Jane Eyre

Romeo and Juliet

Much Ado About Nothing

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Henry V

Richard III

Red Hood’s Reading List:

(as if this man would give up his reading habit; however it is now with 250% more angst, death/revival/ghost references, and family/betrayal-related jabs)

Wuthering Heights

Frankenstein

Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

The Count of Monte Cristo

Hamlet

Macbeth

Othello

King Lear

Caesar

Moby Dick

The Iliad

Catch-22

1984

Crime and Punishment

Anyway there you go!! Feel free to add or reject any of books!! And special thanks to @animal-123-crazy who mentioned wanting to see this once (1) which gave me the courage to make this!!

#just yelling into the void #dc comics #dc #jason todd #reading list #jason todd’s reading list #Lowkey felt so betrayed when I realized I wasn’t getting a list of Jason’s favorite books #So yeah here I am six months later #Frantically looking up classic books #Trying to remember the few that I’ve read myself #If anyone has any good ones feel free to add!!#Also I am not saying that he only read those books during those phases #The books can definitely carry over #I’m just saying those are the focuses of that phase #Also it’s two am when I made this so enjoyyy~~#batfam #batman #alfred pennyworth #can’t believe I almost forgot him smh

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frostironfudge · 1 year

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Labyrinth - Bucky Barnes - Chapter IX

Summary: labyrinth (noun), a complicated set of paths and passages, through which it is difficult to find your way. Bucky and You would do anything for Steve and Wanda, your respective best friends. In an attempt to avoid a tradition Steve and Wanda come up with a lie involving their best friends. A lie, that involves building a labyrinth. Bucky and You begin to build but will you two find your way out or be caught in it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, (Modern AU)

Word Count: 13.2 k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: chapter contains 18+ moments, minors DNI, fluff, sm/ut, dir/ty talk, p in v, hot bucky, swearing, soft bucky, protective bucky, drinking, a few derogatory comments from sharon and brock, feels cause wedding speeches. discussion about financial troubles, illness and surgery of family members

AN.: last chapter before the epilogue

Main Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Masterlist || Fic Playlist

New York City greets you with looming clouds, rain and traffic. Parting at the airport with the remaining couples, staring out of the taxi window and at the racing droplets a sigh escapes your lips.

It isn’t tired, nor is it one of relief but one that serves as a reminder. The reminder made you smile. Your thumb traces the ring, now that harbours a promise.

A promise of truths instead of lies.

A promise backed by feelings of love, reciprocated love.

A promise that Bucky and you would make it out together.

Puffin: Thinking of you, my Sunshine.

The message makes you giddy with happiness.

Puffin loves Sunshine.

Bucky loves you, you!

Puffin: you look adorable grinning at the screen, I didn’t realise I had that effect on you.

The grin drops and you search around the packed cars in the unmoving lane. How the hell did he know?

Puffin: Searching for me in the crowd? I’m in your heart, raza de soare.

Sunshine: You’re incorrigible. Pulling my leg like that.

Puffin: I had to pull your leg to get you to the edge, you denied me my pre-flight meal.

You shiver at the reminder, clit pulsing in memory of Bucky’s lips latched around it. Devouring you, the moans he prayed against you. Hands holding your hips, keeping you in place.

Sunshine: aiwurjd

This fucking man will drive you to the brink of insanity.

Sunshine: i meant um

Puffin: 🤣🤣🤣

Sunshine: oh you aren’t getting any meals now.

Puffin: Sunshine, you can’t deny me.

Sunshine: watch me.

Puffin: watch you?

Sunshine: yeah, you will know what I mean.

You had taken a few pictures in the pretty lingerie that was stuffed deep into your suitcase. It was supposed to be what you wore during your first night there but that turned to well, almost freezing and then being saved by Bucky.

You had however taken pictures while packing. Selecting three you send them off to Bucky, your face hidden in them but he would know it's you.

Puffin: qeuejdh

You giggle happily.

Puffin: where have you been hiding this pretty set? Why was I not allowed to take it off of your body with my teeth? Or rip it? And then buy you a new one and rip it too?

You can just imagine him shifting around in his seat.

Sunshine: oh just this was in my suitcase…

Puffin: And you did not put it on?????????? Is this how you treat the love of your life? Is this how I am to be treated by the love of my life???

Puffin: lots to unpack in that message but I mean every word.

He begins to video call as you type out the reply. Connecting the headphones you answer. Bucky’s face pops up, his hair is slightly dishevelled but his eyes are bright. A smile on his lips. Those kissable, love confessing lips.

You smile back, “Hi.”

“Don’t hi, me, I’m mad at you! I could have unwrapped you like the best fucking present and you deny me?” Bucky places a hand on his heart to convey his feelings of betrayal.

“Overdramatic much?” You shake your head but laugh at his antics.

“Sunshine, I meant what I said.” He adds, expression turning serious the way it does when he really wants you to listen.

“I know.” You hope your expression conveys it.

That he knows, you know because it is true for you too.

“Good, I was beginning to think I’d have to change cabs.” The camera shifts and you stare at yourself looking into the phone.

Blinking several times, you look at the side, sure enough Bucky grins and waves. His laugh thrums through you. You wave back at him and shake your head at his antics. The traffic clears and the two of you watch as the roads diverge, taking you to opposite sides of the city.

“I miss you.” You tell him, thumb running over his face.

“I miss you too.” The smile isn’t happy but one of solemn acceptance, “I’ll meet you soon enough okay? Work needs to be–great just got called in for a zoom meeting.” He grumbles, the screen blurring as Bucky switches apps to reply.

The call drops and he sends a string of texts, you assure him that it's okay. Soon enough as your apartment comes into view exhaustion creeps along your body.

The couch is covered in pillows. Your delivery app says the food will be here in five minutes. You’re aching to tuck into the comfort food and the comfort film ready to play on your laptop.

Deciding to text a picture to Wanda and Bucky of your plans seems ideal.

Wanda was AWOL understandably so, the family surprised them with a gettogether, luckily Sharon and Brock didn’t make the cut.

Wanda: ugh, I love my family, but I just want to go home and cuddle stevie.

You: cuddle? [insert corgi giving side eye GIF]

Wanda: we can do things before cuddling

You: there’s my Wanda!

Wanda: any cuddling involved on your end?

You: Bucky’s stuck in Zoom conferences, apparently another client is sceptical and Darcy requested Yusuf to have Bucky come in on board.

Wanda: [video attached]

You click play, Pietro pops up on screen, you laugh at his grumpy expression.

“You’ve betrayed me, sweet girl.” Pietro huffs, hands on his hips and now sporting a pout on his face.

You giggle. The doorbell rings, the video continues as you head to the door.

“I thought I’d play the long game but no, you had to let the guy sweep in and take what's mine.” He places his hand on his heart, “You wound me, Angel.” Pietro fake cries.

You laugh, “Hey, How are you– Bucky?”

There Bucky is, hair tied in a low bun, a few strands falling out. He’s holding your take out bag and one of his own, but his pretty blue eyes are narrowed at your phone.

“Pietro.” Bucky says with such disdain. The video continues, “The grumpy man always had your heart.” Pietro continues, “He better keep you happy.”

“Pietro!” Bucky grins, happy with what he’s saying.

“And honestly if he fucks up I’ll sweep in and protect your heart–”

Bucky grabs your phone, shifting both bags to one hand; breaking you out of your stupor and cutting video Pietro off.

“Hey Pietro, her heart is already protected so better luck with someone else because even in another life I’m hers and she’s mine.” Bucky smiles satisfied with the video, sends it and then grins at you.

“I thought you were caught up at work?” You still stare at him.

Bucky shrugs, “I missed my Sunshine.”

You grab the take out bags, setting them on the little cabinet. Immediately you fling yourself at him. Bucky catches you easily, kissing the side of your head. His arms tighten around you. His face is buried in the crook of your neck.

Bucky carries you in, shutting the door with his foot. Your fingers card through his hair, undoing the hair tie he hums then sighs. He’s addicted to the way you feel wrapped up in his arms, no longer does he have to hold back his affection. No longer does he ball his hands into fists so that they do not seek you out more than the little slice of your heaven he allowed himself to be carried toward.

You pull away in the slightest, noses brushing as your eyes meet his, he licks his bottom lip. Eyes closed as your fingers trace his jaw. The entire day your mind went back to the moment he confessed but even more to the way you felt half asleep.

Dreaming of this happiness.

“If i’m still dreaming,” You whisper, “If I’m still dreaming Bucky,” he feels your lips brushing over his forehead, “then please,” cheeks, nose, “don’t wake me up.”

“Sunshine,” He opens his eyes to the crack in your voice and the glaze over your eyes.

You shake your head, “You’re the love of my life too, Puffin.”

Bucky presses his lips to yours with an urgency that moulds into softness. There is heat underneath but neither of you make a move to burn in it. Opting to bask within each other. Hands lost in each other’s hair, trying to be as closely pressed as possible. Tracing over your back upon with stories of pleasure and stolen moments blaming exhaustion were etched.

When the two of you pull away, you’re straddling his lap looking down at his kiss bitten lips. Bucky’s tongue moves over his bottom lip, warm palm cupping your cheek. Blue eyes drinking you in, his heart hammering as your hand encases his own.

The ring he gave you gleams, he beams brightly.

“I love you.” He whispers, you lean into his palm. Smiling shyly at him, cheeks warming.

“I love you.” You whisper back, kissing his palm.

Bucky’s grin remains upon his features, the crinkles by his eyes have you fall a little more in love with this man.

There is so much more for you to discover and learn, likewise for Bucky towards you. The relationship would begin, not allowing the years gone by to get in the way. To make up for lost time but also not dwell upon it.

“How’s Alpine?” You ask once the food orders are sprawled across the table, Tangled set to begin on the monitor.

Bucky eyes the set up warily, using bigger books to prop the monitor, “She’s okay, I checked up on her, fed her treats and told her you’re officially my girl.”

“Officially your girl?” You turn to him bemused.

“She was very pleased, you will be getting a be my meowmmy card soon.” Bucky teases, then shakes his head, “I’d rant to her alot about you, usually after our meetings with Wanda and Steve.”

“Alpine’s your confidant isn’t she?” You smile at him, he nods.

“I didn’t think I would have made a great cat dad, but she's just, she’s part of my whole world you know? She helped me so much it was lonely when I moved out. I had so much anxiety leaving my parents alone. Even though I was on a good paying job and we were out of ‘the financial trouble phase’.” He sets his plate down, you follow, then turn to him.

In the weeks when lines blurred. He had told you quite a bit about his family life but not this phase. You knew him throughout all of this better never intimately. You never knew what he hid behind the scowls you threw at each other. The burning glares that singed everyone’s eyebrows off their faces.

“Things were rough, with student loans, Becca’s and mine… Mom working two jobs, Dad’s condition had gotten worse because of the diabetes, ulcer on the leg…” he sighs, you rest your palm upon his, he intertwines your hands.

“We were worried about surgery, if it became worse an amputation would be the only option.” He sighs yet again.

“If it turns into gangrene and hampers blood circulation…” You trail off knowing this as well, “My dad had the issue with his foot… had to amputate three and a half toes.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his own mind reeling, there was so much you both still had to share, still had to learn, “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through as a family...”

“I’ll tell you all about it, but first I want to listen to you.” You assure him.

“It healed though in time, I was in and out of the dorm with Steve, most days it was as if I was wasting money paying for the dorm. I worked up the nerve to speak to Steve and what he did was so fucking amazing I’ll never forget it. He told me he won some fucking keg drinking competition and that the frat house was paying for accommodation.” He laughs,

“He lied ofcourse, covered my end of the expenses for two years while we dealt with things at home. When my laptop gave me shit and broke down. He got three new ones saying his mom ordered two extra on accident for Christmas. He made sure Becca had a new laptop the first year she started uni.”

“He’s an amazing person.” You commend, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair. Bucky hums softly, urging you to continue. The soft touch provides comfort to him.

“He is, while I took up odd jobs, repairing stuff, call centre jobs, reviewing things, you name it. Steve tutored me in lectures I slept through, what free time I had during uni hours I kept myself in the library or study hall. Whatever I earned I was frugal. I put most of it towards my parents and Becca.” Bucky reminisced with a grin on his face, “She got hired and so did I right during placement week, both jobs are stellar in pay much more than the odd buck earned and things got better.”

“I’m proud of you, Bucky.” You squeeze his hand.

“Thank you.”

“Then I got hired by Yusuf Khan. The commute was brutal from home. So I moved. However, things were good, but I unfortunately harboured too much anxiety that day, technically late at night when I found Alpine; I was contemplating leaving, which is why I was pacing the parking lot. Going back home even though it was at max a 45 minute distance.” Bucky chuckles,

“Tiny little furball gave me so much love in the first interaction. When I gave her some leftover chicken bits, she stood on the kitchen island as if she owned the place. I knew I had to try. It may sound as if I got instant perspective, but that's not it.”

“She awoke hope within you, in that moment you finally had hope to think that things would get better.” You try to make sense of the feeling he may have had, when he nods you smile.

“I went to therapy, got myself in order, invested well. Got us in much better positions, bought an additional home on mortgage, flipped it, sold it for a profit, bought a studio with the profit and rented it out to keep some active income for my parents and now its a few years since and I’ve gotten all I wanted, now I just want more with everyone I have.”

It’s quiet for several moments when you reach for him cupping his face and then hugging him tightly. Bucky envelopes you in his arms, your sighs of contentment are an echo of one another.

“I didn’t know how much was going on, Wanda let it slip that things were hard but every time I saw you, seeing how much you persevered through it all I always felt proud and happy for you. Even if we bickered or just gave the hostile silent treatment I was proud of what you did for yourself and your family.” You admit to him.

Bucky runs his fingers over your back, he can hear the honesty in your voice.

“Tell me about your times now. I know we’ve covered why your contact is reduced with them.” He hopes the moment is safe enough for you to share.

A deep inhale and you close your eyes, “They didn’t approve of the baking business, I used to do it on the side for a little extra money and I enjoyed it alot. Pastry chef was the goal but then they convinced me to pursue well…”

“Get a ‘real degree’?” He offers, you nod against his shoulder, “I’m sorry you had to give up on that goal. Do you ever think of going back? Pastry school, I mean.”

“Sometimes I used to but, as I got more settled into the web design field I couldn’t keep it afloat.” You shift back, looking into his blue eyes that watch you with so much tenderness, “I took short courses during university breaks, those cooking for fun classes? Online stuff, books. Just wanted to learn how to make pastries and I did.” You smile.

“That's my girl.” His praise warms your skin and heart.

“The reason I stepped back was when all of dad’s health issues were going on, my brother did not step up to the task. It all fell on me. Mom was a wreck, my brother would rather be anywhere but at home. When I took the call for the surgery, the doctors said he would die because the blood supply had gotten very, very poor. They anticipated embolisms or infection spreading across. It was a split second decision.” You’re transported back to the ICU, monitors ringing, doctor’s words overlapping, and the nurse thrusting the consent form into your hands.

“Your decision saved him.” Bucky repeats what you’ve told yourself over and over, what the doctors told you and your family.

“It did, but my brother turned and twisted everything saying I gave zero respect to my mother or to him to collectively decide. My father thought I took the costliest way out. It got to a point where staying in that house had become horrible.” You sigh, “The year we met all this was going on… When things for us fell apart, it seemed as if it all was falling apart. I just wanted to be saved from it all.”

“Beck came in then didn’t he? Pretending to be everything you needed?” Bucky hates the venom in his words but he despises the guy.

“He wasn’t everything I wanted or needed, those criterias were only met by you.” You rest your forehead against his, Bucky sighs.

“But he did swoop in. I did get caught up. I did ignore the red flags. All because I didn’t want to feel as horrible as I did. I already moved into the dorm with Wanda, then when I got my own job I found a dude subletting his place, and dating Beck was expensive. Only the finest of things, he’d make a face at handmade cards or mementos for a long time. I didn't realise I lost so much of myself in that relationship. When I went back home because things with Wanda were starting to get rocky, my brother said I should have sucked it up and stayed for the money.”

“That fucking asshole.” Bucky swallows, “I’m sorry–,”

“No he was an asshole and I said that to his face and left.” You nudge Bucky’s nose with yours, he gives you a soft kiss.

“There’s more but that can wait for another night.” He kisses your temple.

You nod, still curling up against him, the food for now forgotten as he presses play on the movie.

Teakwood candles burn in the corner curated by Wanda. The darkwood office is well thought out. Steve watches on as Bucky paces. The brunette riddled with nervous energy, unlike his usual stoic self. The papers that are in Steve’s hands are no longer gazed upon by Bucky. The words and graphs committed to memory.

“Why are you so nervous? You've done it, the take over is happening.” The ‘corporate lawyer voice’ Steve uses is not unfamiliar.

“I’m worried about the underlying personal issue,” Bucky finally stops the pacing, deciding to sit on the carpeted floor of his friend’s office, “Beck will retaliate citing that, but I have more than enough to throw him down further. As much as I want to hurt him…”

“You do not want to fight her battles for her?” Steve offers understanding the dilemma.

“Yes… I, It is personal. Beck made comments to me in our Finance Major, but what he put Sunshine through is arguably worse.”

The two grow quiet again, Steve re-reads the papers, his firm knew of the acquisition, the main buyers had appointed them. The contracts were drafted by him and his firm’s best people. Under ironclad NDAs he couldn’t let Bucky know he was involved in the very deal his best friend was working hard to close.

“I can’t believe you’re working with Tony Stark though.” Bucky pats Steve’s back, grins forming on their faces.

“I know, they might have us on board contractually, too.”

“Stevie, that's great news!”

“I know, Buck, just this deal goes well and then we can get that contract. I’m trusting Y/N’s vision board.” Steve chuckles and Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Oh yeah, she probably won’t tell you unless what she kept on the board comes true.” Steve explains.

“She had you working with Tony Stark on her board?” Bucky was going to ask you about this board.

“Technically she said she had herself seeing me work with a dream client of mine.” The blond grins, “NDA, I couldn’t tell her who it was just that it’s a big client.”

“So Sunshine has a secret vision board?” Bucky whips his phone out, offended he doesn’t know about the board. It was date night but he would question you. A few days had passed since the night at your house. You had been over at his place as well.

Alpine curling up on your chest as you lay your head on his thigh while watching a movie. Bucky smiles recalling the way your hair felt between his fingers as he carded through them watching you instead of the movie.

He gazes back down at his device, an unread text awaits him.

Sunshine: I have an activity planned for date night! All the materials ready and we meet at your place

Puffin: I can’t wait, Sunshine.

Steve chuckles, “You aren’t demanding about the board are you?”

“It can wait.” Bucky dismisses the thought away, typing that he would arrange for the food and drinks asking if you would prefer any cuisine.

Bucky was fucking glad you both had exchanged keys, because the sight that greeted him of Alpine and you dancing to Taylor Swift in his living room oblivious to his presence as he recorded this moment was worth so much more than he could comprehend.

You notice Bucky, how could you not feel his presence the minute he would enter close to your orbit? Alpine’s blue eyes gleam at you as you sing off-key to the lyrics while holding her paw in your palm and pretending to waltz. Alpine huffs when she’s had enough pushing away from you and bounding up her dad’s leg to his arms.

“It is a nice sight to come home to,” Bucky kisses her sweet little nose, the furball purrs happily.

“She is adorable.” You agree with him.

“I meant you, Sunshine.” He meets your gaze, smiling as he can pinpoint the signs of your blush, the way you momentarily break away from his eyes, tilt your head and then look right back at him, your irises not just harbouring the colour he so deeply loves but also a warmth that burns him, consumes him. Your own love for him.

“So what is this date you’ve planned?” He diverts, Alpine leaps out of his arms heading to her water bowl and then to her lounging spot near the window.

“A couple’s vision board.” You grin at him.

“A couple’s vision board?” He raises a brow, his earlier conversation with Steve returning to the forefront.

“Yeah, you basically cut out pictures of things you want to achieve or manifest and well–if you find it stupid we can just paint on the canvas…” You pick at the hangnail by your thumb, trying to divert your mind from chastising you for the stupid idea.

Bucky cups your cheek, making you look at him, his right hand interlaces with your hand that was picking at the hangnail. He squeezes it gently.

“Should we put in a warm, sunny getaway? I think we’ve had enough of a cold climate.” He kisses your nose, making you grin. You nod, kissing his palm.

“Mediterranean?” You wonder, he nods, grinning too.

You lead him to the set up done in the living room, behind the sectional, fully complete with a sheet on the floor to prevent paint spills.

“Oh and should we sign it off as ‘Sunshine and Puffin’s’ or ‘Puffin and Sunshine’s’ Vision Board?” Bucky questions as he sits down, helping you unwrap the canvas, after he brings in his photo printer to be closer to you two.

“Puffin and Sunshine? Alphabetical?” You hum, going through images to find the perfect couple travel aesthetic.

The process begins then, finding pictures of each thing listed and settling on an image or a quote the two of you equally adore to print and place onto the board.

Bucky writes a list of things he wants the two of you to be able to do, he even downloads and prints a small picture of a wedding to sneak onto the board without you noticing.

After a while of cutting and glueing and smearing paint across each other’s cheeks. Bucky rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms around you. The two of you watch the vision board with awe and then your eyes narrow.

“Did you put ‘Have sex on hotel balcony’ right next to the Eiffel tower picture?” You look at his side profile.

Bucky holds back a laugh, “Well, do you not want to? Be full of me? While the lights shine bright, twinkling? Mimicking the way pleasure thrums through your body?” His hands move then from your waist to your thighs, parting them.

Calloused fingers moving along your inner thigh, “Tell me Sunshine? Do you not enjoy it when you’re bent over? Feeling me deep within you?”

Your breath hitches as his lips brush over the sensitive spot on your neck.

“People could see us, be oh so jealous of us. Two people so in love it consumes them. They would say our love and lust is brighter than their cities.” He cups your mound, the skirt pushed up to your hips, your panties pushed aside.

Bucky moans as your arousal coats his fingers, “I want to feel you claim me in every corner of the world. Every city we visit, Sunshine, I want to be yours, I want you to be mine.” Your head rests against his shoulder, his fingers part your folds, his middle finger sinking into you.

“Bucky,” You plead, needing more.

“Right here, baby. You feel so good, taking my fingers so well.” Bucky adds another, you moan, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. When did he move your legs apart further with his knees under yours, you don’t understand.

You fall fully against him when his left hand joins in, fingers rubbing your clit as his fingers thrust into you. Your hips raise and grind against him. Pleasure blooming across you, Bucky watches in the reflection of his balcony window as you fall apart for him.

You come with a cry of his name, panting and bliss dragging you under. He doesn’t stop not until he has made you ride through your orgasm. You watch with a half mast gaze as he licks his fingers clean.

“Decadent, my good girl. My sunshine. Soarele meu.” Bucky watches as you turn, straddling him pushing down his sweats, greed driving the two of you. When he calls you his, it illuminates you brighter, turns you a little feral you won’t lie. You love it, he loves it.

He smiles into the kiss you tease him with, that you haven't noticed yet, the picture he put of a married couple right next to a picture of the two of you.

Bucky moans into your mouth as you sink down on his cock, inch by inch. You whimper as he nips upon your bottom lip once he’s completely sheathed by you. Hands on your hips, your hands on his shoulders.

You stay that way for a moment, foreheads pressed to one another's.

“You tore my panties.” You huff realising through the haze.

“Sunshine, I’m a little preoccupied to even care about them.”

You narrow your eyes, clenching your walls, he hisses, his hands grip your hips and make you grind down. Your clit stimulated–you whimper and moan. He grins, your personal devil.

“Two can play, Sunshine,”

“I won’t move.”

Soon your back is against the floor, legs around Bucky’s hips.

“I can do the hard work, you just stay there and moan my name.” His cocky smirk sends a shiver through you, “Oh my pussy loves the idea.” He admires your cunt by softly tracing his fingers over your slick folds, tapping your clit and giving light thrusts.

“Bucky–,” You try to grab onto him, one hand pins down both of yours, you stare up at him. Anticipation pools in your belly.

“I told you, Sunshine. You just lay there and take it like my good fucking girl.” He brushes his lips over yours, you feel him pull his hips away, your walls clamp not wanting to let him go, he thrusts back in, his pace hard but slow.

The sound of flesh slapping against the other, your moans, his grunts, your whimpers and his groans. Your neediness, his praise, his dirty words and your praise. Your worlds collide and shatter in the best way, pleasure breaks across Bucky and your skies.

When he feels your orgasm take over your body, triggering his own, his hands grip your jaw making you look at him.

Bucky’s eyes close, he moans a prayer of your name. His hair falls across his cheekbones, your hand reaches up to stroke his cheek, his lips brush over the inside of your palm.

At night, after your little nap, you go to retrieve the vision board, to tuck it away into his wardrobe. That is when you see it, the wedding picture, you write on a small folded sheet sticking it near the picture.

It would be a little surprise for him, you’d pretend to not see the pictures, but whenever he sees the folded paper, he would know your answer to the unasked question. Three letters that would make him the happiest. Thereby making you the happiest.

Yes.

You stare at Wanda, really give her a good hard look. She stares right back, her eyes roll yet again as she palpates your reluctance. Her lips part to tell you that it's okay but you hold up a hand.

“I am not using your wedding as bait.” You refuse her plan, she glares at you, “What are you glaring at me for? It’s your day!”

Steve coughs from the living room.

“It’s your shared day!” You correct, then wince.

“Steve, stop eavesdropping! Go play with Bucky.” Wanda calls out.

“We don’t play–,” Steve begins,

“So why did I scramble to buy the damn PS5?” She counters.

Bucky guffaws and then yelps, then Steve yelps.

“Boys, anywho, come on, no other chance will you get, plus Sharon is planning to wear white.” Wanda adds.

Your mouth drops open, “That bitch!”

“Now will you please let us have their downfall at my reception? It will be my wedding gift.” Your best friend brings out her puppy eyes.

“You have my blessing to absolutely annihilate those shitheads.” Wanda grins happily as she watches your features change from reluctance to consideration.

You sigh, the rehearsal dinner was just done, the ceremony was the day after. Bucky had gotten the merger out of the way the news would break amidst the wedding reception. Steve’s team would take care to keep the ropes tight till he sent the message to allow the news to be published to the public.

“You’re okay with it?” You ask again.

“Look I have the main ceremony and who told you I won’t make it about myself–”

Steve coughs again.

“Myself and Steve! Jeez, will you let me complete sentences?”

“Sorry babydoll.” Steve calls out.

“Okay, let's get back at them.” You nod. Steve and Bucky enter the kitchen area again.

“Alright now, this is exactly how it will go down.” Wanda pulls out a rolled chart, unrolling it across the island top.

Bucky wraps his arm around your waist, “Ready for vengeance?” He whispers.

“With you by my side I’m ready for anything.” You look up at him, he smiles, his dimple showing.

“Aw cute, flirt later, listen to the plan first.” Wanda snaps her fingers.

“It’s all military time coded.” Bucky observes the steps.

“Well duh, I need my sunset beach picture of Steve kissing me as the minister declares us husband and wife. The beach resort was booked for the photo op.” Wanda looks at you with disbelief, “Are you sure you wanna date him?”

“Hey!” Bucky interjects offended.

“Wan.” You huff a laugh, giggling when Bucky looks at you offended as well.

“What I’m just making sure.” She raises her hands in surrender.

“Just tell him the plan, baby.” Steve kisses her forehead, “She’s just excited about being a mastermind.”

“Well no one is taking Sunshine away from me.” Bucky pulls you closer.

“No one can and no one will.” You assure him kissing his jaw.

Pink roses adorn the aisles, the breeze softly bellows across the resort’s private beach. The event management had put down the makeshift wooden flooring. Sand however had made its way onto sections but the altar was impeccable.

In the conservatory Wanda looks towards you, amidst the final check of her make up, the veil, her something borrowed, old and blue. Her assistant pours out a shot of vodka and the bride grabs it with eager hands.

The two of you laugh as she downs the shot just before the Wan and Steve’s mothers each enter to check upon their daughter.

Across, in the other wing of the conservatory Steve and Bucky share a drink. The two reminisce over the conversations about this fateful day. Bucky hands a small box sent over by Wanda to his best friend. The groom cannot help but laugh at the cartoon doodle socks with the note that said, ‘Incase you get cold feet. Don’t.’

Steve scribbles his own answering note back to Wanda which Bucky delivers in your hand. He waits as the bride and groom play this little game of passing the note along. The two of you indulge yourselves as well, exchanging kisses each time the note was delivered.

You hear the soft aw when you pull away from Bucky. Outside the groom’s door. Sarah Rogers and Winnie Barnes stand there with beaming smiles on their faces.

Heat creeps over your cheeks, Winnie only grins brighter at you. Bucky’s arm rests around your waist as he lets you shy away against him. He places a kiss on your temple. His mother was onto his denial of feelings.

Calling him out in Romanian when he told her about your shared confession. The entire time you gazed between the mother son duo confused when Becca walked in, giving you a full translation because she heard the yelling match to her room.

Three days after returning from the trip

“She’s calling him an idiot.” Becca says, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket and offering you the bowl of strawberries. Your fingers intertwine as you twist them nervously. Gaze bouncing between mother and son.

Bucky says something with an exasperated expression and shakes his head. Winnie clicks her tongue and the back of her hand meets her palm to emphasise her point.

This goes back and forth and Becca keeps translating, its mostly funny to watch and hear because she keeps laughing every time Winnie is calling out the shared stupidity of losing six years.

“He said, ‘Yes, I was dumb to not resolve things before but the two of us were manipulated.’ Then mom said, ‘You were not manipulated you were a dumbass to not approach her directly.’” The mother and son look at Becca.

“And now they will begin to tell me off, Mom come on, you should be happy he’s finally calling her Soare to her face rather than muttering it in his sleep or when he’s absentmindedly telling us about her.” She defends herself and the tips of Bucky’s ears go pink.

“You… How long have you called me Sunshine?” You ask, Bucky glares at his sister, who only grins at him and blows a kiss to him.

“You and Wanda should hang out, she’d love you.” You comment as Becca jumps off the chair.

“I know, I love Wanda, she’s my hero.”

Winnie had slowly stepped away, her happiness knowing no bounds.

“I’ve thought you were Sunshine since you brightened my day when I saw you first.” Bucky admits, you grin wider.

The two of you ignore the squeals of his family. Bucky walks around the kitchen island. Hands cupping your face.

“Sorry about them, they are just a little excited for me.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek bone.

“I think it's adorable. Plus Becca could be a wonderful interpreter.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but his gaze is soft, “Come on, let's go to the bookstore, I’ll buy you all the books you want.”

“You both are staying for dinner!” Winnie calls out, “I want to know your mireasă (bride) better.”

You raise a brow to Bucky, he scrambles and you worry about the word’s meaning.

“She said dragă, which means sweetheart. Try it?” Bucky encourages you, his fingertips trace your jaw, left hand, grabs the chair, manoeuvring it so he stands between your legs.

“That didn’t sound like dr-rea-ga?” You attempt to say it correctly.

“Mea Dragă, my darling or my sweetheart. It’s actually said as Dragă mea. Sometimes the rules of English come into other languages when speaking quickly.” Bucky easily covers his mother’s slip up.

“Dragă mea?” It sounds better as you say it this time.

“Good.” Bucky rewards you with a kiss.

“What other words do I need to know?” You ask him, “Wait, the most important words!”

“What?” He tilts his head in wonder.

“I love you! How do I say it in Romanian?”

Bucky chuckles, azure eyes brightening at your eagerness to share his language, “Te iubesc. Two words, eight letters instead of three words.”

He repeats it, over and over. Letting you follow along as he breaks the word into parts then together. Till you get the pronunciation correct.

“Dragă mea, te iubesc.” You say to him at the end of the night as he stands at your door, hands in his pockets, cheeks coated in the blush that makes you swoon at his beauty.

“Say it again, Sunshine.”

“Puffin mea, dragă mea, te iubesc.” You hardly get time to recover, his body moulds against yours. Lips hungry, ravenous in the most loving way. His hands are just as eager and wanton as your own.

The door closes, you’re held up by Bucky. Your head moves to the side in pleasure, you don’t notice the frame of the order that saved your business tilts as his thrusts are frantic, the two of you repeating the words in Romanian and English.

When the event planner gets a whiff of the notes exchange programme Bucky and you are shooed away and the bride and groom are warned about the time constraints.

The crowd is seated, cell phones tucked away with a scary looking bouncer to allow only the photographer to take pictures. The bridesmaids and groomsmen walk down the aisle separating at the altar.

Your arm looped with Bucky’s both of you making sure you had the vows, rings and anything else needed to make the ceremony proceed smoothly. The song changes and you look at Bucky and then at Wanda.

The string instrumental is from the first song the two of you danced at the party, Counting Stars by OneRepublic.

“Our,” your throat constricts, Bucky smiles nodding. “Our song.”

You look back at Wanda with gratitude, she smiles at you, “Now go, I’ll be there in a sec.”

The two of you step out, the chorus of the song plays as the two of you walk towards the altar. Bucky can’t help but feel happiness, he mouths a thank you to Steve who shrugs it off. You part from Bucky with a kiss to his cheek.

The band changes the tune to the bridal march, Wanda walks down the aisle looking every bit beautiful. Steve begins to cry and looks at Bucky who pats his back and offers him a tissue.

“She’s my dream girl.” Steve tells everyone and sniffles, using the tissue to help himself. Her father sheds a few tears giving her hand into Steve’s. The father and son-in-law share a hug.

“Son, you’ve been taking care of her for the past many years, I know you will continue doing so, I’m giving you my princess, you treat her as the queen she is to you.” Her father says and Steve nods.

“I will, Sir.”

“I will, Dad.” Her father corrects, Steve can’t help the watery laugh that blubbers from him.

The minister begins the ceremony, you can’t help but tear up as it unfolds. Watching Steve and Wanda go from cheesy flirting to dating to living together and now being married.

A fairytale romance even though Wanda hated the fantasy association. Steve would agree though.

The minister smiles then allows for the two to say their prepared vows.

You hand Wanda her cue cards and take her bouquet from her for the time being.

“Stevie, I’ve known you through several phases of our lives. In each phase you have been the person I needed and wanted, you have been not just my boyfriend but my best friend, my confidant and above all my everything. When you proposed I knew I wanted to be yours and no I’m not talking about the ring, I’m talking about when you proposed for us to be together all those years ago,”

Steve chuckles and then sniffles.

“Steve, I vow to be the partner you need and want, I vow to make my famous butter chicken for you whenever you want,” That earns her laughs.

“I vow to be your friend, I vow to be your date at all boring lawyer events, I vow to be with you in health, in sickness, in happiness and in sadness, I vow to be your everything as you remain my ev-everything. Husband, I know you call me wife whenever you talk about me. I can’t wait until you don’t have to hide that and call me yo-your wife all the time. I vow to love you unconditionally.”

You hand her a tissue, your gaze meets Bucky’s and the two of you are misty eyed.

Bucky hands Steve his cue cards.

“Wanda Maximoff, you are my dream girl, baby. Ask Bucky, I would not shut up about you.” Steve smiles at her, she chuckles.

Bucky nods, “Affirmative.”

“You are everything to me and more, from the first day of correcting my presentation in the middle of my presentation,” Steve sheepishly shrugs it off.

“You used Comic Sans!” She reminds him not forgetting about it.

Laughter surrounds the couple.

“I would have kept using it if it meant I’d have your attention. Wan, you are the light in darkness, you are bewitching as the day that I met you. Whatever love spell we may be under, I hope it never breaks. Somepeople may consider marriage a hex but I don’t, thank you for allowing me to be your everything. Thank you for being my everything.”

Steve takes a deep breath,

“You have my vow, Wanda, to be yours for always, the way you need and want, through every crest and trough life sends our way. I promise you to be the best that I can be for you. I also vow to keep buying you notebooks for your mastermind plans.”

She swats him lightly. He only laughs, holding onto her hand that stays on his chest.

“I vow to be the husband that you, my wife will need and want in happiness, in sadness, in health and in sickness.” He takes a deep breath, smiling through his happy tears.

“I vow to love you, unconditionally.”

“Beautiful vows,” He goes over asking them for their I dos, both of them grinning widely at the other, “by the authority vested in me by the state of New York; I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister smiles, “You may now kiss the bride.”

“Don’t mind if I do, kiss my wife.” Steve pulls Wanda close, he cups her cheek. Their wedding track is played. Wanda smiles up at him.

The two of them are still misty eyed. They share a laugh. Before their lips meet.

The guests clap and holler, you can’t help but cheer them on through the happy tears. Bucky finds your gaze once again, reaching over to hand you a tissue without interrupting the couple.

You wonder what it would feel like standing at the altar with Bucky. The feeling dawns upon you as Steve and Wanda pull away from the kiss but rest their foreheads together lost in the moment.

You raise your gaze to find him looking at you, your heart somersaults. It would feel right.

Bucky knows it would feel right, making you Mrs. Barnes one day.

The fairy lights and candle lights flicker on as the sky grows darker.

“Guests and loved ones of the couple, may I take pleasure in announcing for the first time, Steve and Wanda Rogers!” The minister exclaims as the guests cheer on further.

Wanda turns to you, excited and she hugs you. You hug her back.

“I’m so happy for you Wan.” You tighten the hug as she does too, both of you sniffle in tandem.

“We have to be careful with eye make up.” She tries to keep her voice even.

“I made them use waterproof mascara.” You tell her knowing tears would happen despite her declaring she would not cry.

“Steve did cry seeing you.” You tell her on the lighter note, she laughs.

“He did good.” Wanda says, “I mean look at me, he won the fucking lotto.”

“He did win the lotto, he won the world with you Wanda.” Bucky adds and Steve’s wife returns in his arms.

“Aw, Bucky, are you going soft and mushy after all these grumpy years?” Wanda teases him, Steve chuckles.

“Love makes him all soft and mushy.” Steve earns an eye roll from his best man.

“There he is!” Stevepretends to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, “Thought I lost you there bud.”

“Now come on, at 2000 Hours we have a reception to execute.” Wanda reminds you all, the two of them walk back to the conservatory as everyone throws the flower petals.

Bucky offers you his hand, “Honestly, I wouldn’t have missed the wedding as I had planned months ago.”

You link your arm through his, giving him a curious look, you knew he wanted to skip because of the strained history the two of you shared.

“You’d torture yourself?” Your tone is light but the two of you know the heaviness that is held by the words.

The two of you continue your walk, faster paced than the rest to have a moment alone before the chaos.

“Sunshine, you own my heart even if I did not want you to, so yes. I would put us both through the torture of going through all of this for just a moment to be close to you. I know it sounds mean and selfish–,”

“I’d do it just for a moment of your time too.” You admit, Bucky leads you to a corner, pushing you against the wall.

“What does that say about us? Masochists?” He murmurs, you look to the side. He grips your jaw making you look back at him, “We’ve got time.”

“Unrequited love is painful, we lived with it for years.” You meet his darkening gaze, “We’re the only ones who can erase the pain.”

“Because we’re the ones that caused it.” He feels your lips brush his jaw, before he can taste your lips upon his own.

Bucky sighs into your mouth, your fingers run through his hair. His palms grip your waist, the ring digging into your hip. You moan when his tongue meets yours, he’s about to push up your dress to just have a little taste when the clearing of a familiar throat has you both pull away.

Wanda and Steve stand there shaking their heads.

“Your four minute window is up. Bridal party portraits now.” Wanda taps Steve’s watch.

Steve gives the two of you an apologetic look, he did try to distract Wanda.

“Why does no man read the docket? Horny stuff is scheduled for later tonight.” She shakes her head and turns leading the group to the photograph location.

“Please tell me she isn’t responsible for our wedding.” Bucky whispers to you.

“I can hear you and I am responsible. I’m the best damn wedding planner to exist.” Wanda calls out.

Steve and you laugh as Bucky huffs annoyed.

“Well I’d like several bouts of horny time scheduled.” He requests, “You know so Steve and you can blow off steam and not disappear on us.”

“It’s my wedding so I’ll let that slide, Barnes.” Steve waves a dismissive hand.

“It’s true though.” You not so subtly whisper.

“We heard that.” Is the Rogers' reply in unison.

Bucky and you giggle much to their ire but then straighten up when both of them glare at you both. Feeling as though toddlers are being told off by their parents.

The first part of the revenge plan was a carefully crafted invite for Sharon and Brock. Wanda had to stop her cackle when the two of them entered the reception area. Much after the couple’s entry.

“You altered the timing on their card?” Steve whispers, she nods.

“And the theme, I wrote disco.” Wanda adds on, her eyes move to Bucky and you, going over the speech order.

Bucky raises his head to look for Pietro as he would open up the floor for the speeches but what he finds instead he has to bite his cheek. He taps your shoulder several times to pull you away from texting Pietro, he was off wandering around instead of being ready for his speech.

“What?” You hiss at him because if Pietro fucks up you would be worst than Wanda.

“Look.” He gestures in the general direction.

You look at the direction and your laugh gets caught in a fake cough.

Sharon is dressed in a sparkly silver jumpsuit, her hair in tight curls and a hairband. Brock looks slightly in check with only his sparkly silver jacket being on disco theme.

You whip in the direction of Wanda and share a non verbal conversation just in looks.

She giggles behind her champagne glass. Steve shakes his head, chuckling.

Bucky lets a laugh slip and so do you.

“Um, did they come for the wedding or the senior’s 80s theme retreat in the other hall?” Pietro appears next to you.

Bucky raises a brow at him, he moves away in the slightest.

“I have no idea…” You try not to laugh.

“Well you gotta think they’re on their way here.” Pietro nods.

Bucky and you turn in time, his arm around your waist and pleasant smiles plastered across your faces.

“Sharon, Brock, we didn't think you were coming.” Bucky begins before they can say anything.

“Why would we not? We’re on time.” Sharon feigned nonchalance.

“You missed the ceremony. Oh Sharon it puts every other wedding I have been to shame.” An aunt of Steve’s walks up to the table.

Sharon laughs dryly, “I mean Brock and I flew everyone, well not everyone out to Spain.” She looks apologetically at Bucky and you. His fingers tighten slightly upon your waist.

“I know darling but the magic of the beach wedding today was beautiful. I was telling the other relatives and they all agreed.”

“Well they probably will remember the wonderful reception.” Brock intervenes as Sharon gleefully smiles.

“Oh the noise I remember that, anyways, dearest,” She turns to Bucky and you.

Sharon huffs, “Brocksie, get me a drink please?”

“The two of you are so sweet. I need some help with getting my husband’s wheelchair, these chairs aren’t very comfortable.” She explains.

“Which room are you in Aunt Tara?” Bucky questions, “I can have someone retrieve it back from the room. I know the hotel one isn’t all that comfortable.”

“Ah yes, let me go fetch the keycard, thank you.” She smiles at you all before turning away.

“Aunt Tara! Let me help you.” Sharon follows her, “And remind you of the beautiful lantern ceremony.”

“Alright I think you can.” Aunt Tara says, sighing.

“I’ll still have the staff help you out.” Bucky adds before she’s out of earshot.

“Pietro,” You hand him the mic, “You’re up first.”

“Good luck kiss?” Pietro smirks looking at Bucky.

“Don’t push your luck, Maximoff.” Your man grumbles.

“Bucky.” You reach up kissing his cheek.

Pietro places a hand over his heart. “You’re killing me, Feather.”

“Feather?” Bucky narrows his eyes.

“Pietro, stop trying to annoy my man.” You glare at him, he knew about the tumultuous life after one night you went to the Maximoff residence in tears.

Wanda wasn’t back home yet but Pietro stayed up with you making sure you were okay. The heartbreak you harboured was known to him and even if the two of you never saw each other as anything more than friends, he would always flirt with you.

“It’s fun, annoying him.” Is all he says before going towards the married couple.

“Asshole. Fought him off once, I’ll do it again.” Bucky mutters.

“Fought him off?” You raise your brows at him.

“It was when, well—,”

“Hey, where is Sharon? Also why aren't you guys in themed outfits?” Brock cut the conversation off.

“Oh hey, um she went with Aunt Tara.” You look around, sure enough both are missing.

“Then why did she ask me to bring her a drink?” He grumbles and you don’t know what to do.

Well you do, because Wanda told you to do so, “Hey, why don’t I show you your seat and send over a bottle just for the two of you?” Your offer is met by a nod.

Bucky squeezes your hand before you leave, he watches as you begin to converse with Rumlow on the way to show him his seat. He waits for your conversation to seem longer and then trails out of the reception hall, quick steps to follow towards where Sharon would be.

Just how Aunt Tara was told to do so.

Sharon stands there huffing, outside the room as Aunt Tara takes her sweet time to come out. When she spots him, her blonde hair is flipped back to show the skin of her shoulders. Bucky controls his eye roll, fiddling with his ring that solidifies his bond with you.

“Bucky!” Sharon beams, he gives her a curt nod.

“You were a while, I thought I’d help.” He shrugs, she nods.

“Yeah I think she’s gone to the bathroom, I keep hearing the flush…” Her nose scrunches with disgust, “Also why is no one in the disco theme?” Her gaze trails over him Bucky takes a step back, he was distant enough but her gaze was leering.

“You didn’t know? The printer fucked up with some of the invites… Relatives called because disco was never a theme that Wanda and Steve would choose. You didn’t rectify with Wanda?”

Sharon struggles for an answer, “There was a charity Gala actually, they were on the same theme so Brock and I just shrugged. You know how much I enjoy philanthropy.”

“I know. Noble of you.” He looks back at the door, pretending to contemplate something.

“Spill?” Sharon encourages.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this, I haven’t even told Steve.” He adds the spice and Sharon eats up the lie that is about to begin.

“What? You can trust me Bucky, I always want what is best for you,” Her gaze drops to his ring, “Even if it isn’t always right for you.”

“How much has Brock told you about the money coming in from the sale of the company?” The question has Sharon do a double take.

“Um, what do you mean by that?”

“Just tell me the number he told you, Steve told me in confidence there were some issues clouding around your family. I want to know if he is being honest to you.” Bucky reaches out to touch her arm as if offering comfort then he pulls it away.

“He’s said it's not a lot of capital appreciation.” Sharon’s lips press into a thin line.

“Sharon, I think he is fooling you. I. Please tell me you won’t speak to him right now, I don’t want you dealing with him alone. If he gets aggressive.”

“I can hold my own.” She smiles, indicating just how vindictive she can be.

Good Bucky thinks this will work out.

“He spilled about the prenup on the trip.”

Sharon’s mouth falls open, eyes wide and her breathing increases, “What? That fucker!” Sharon seethes, her fists clenching.

“Sharon, you promised to be calm.” Bucky shakes his head.

“You look as though you want to say something?” Brock chuckles looking at your shifty expression, your eyes dart to the door once more for good measure.

“I actually do…” You sigh, “I wanted to talk to you about Beck.”

Brock pauses, the two of you stop walking to his table.

“What not going to work out with, Barnes?” He smirks.

His gaze moving to find Bucky, you grab his arm.

“Brock is about what I overheard Beck say one night. Related to your company.” You feel relief when he stops his search for Bucky.

“What did he say and why are you telling me now?” He narrows his eyes.

“Because I overheard Bucky as well and I could not in good conscience let it go.” You reason, “Look the speeches have a few more minutes, I need to tell you before Sharon comes back.

“What does Sharon have to do with it?” Brock demands, fingers tightening around the glass of alcohol.

“You remember when Beck came back from the joint vacation you guys took?” You add an urgency to your voice, he nods, “Well I had found something in his suitcase when he asked me to get his toiletry bag,”

“What?”

“Can we go out… I don't want anyone overhearing.”

The two of you head out to the lobby, Brock rests a hand on his hip, the other beckoning you to speak, then he sips his drink.

“I found a few women’s clothes that matched Sharon’s from the pictures she uploaded to her instagram.”

“You do know I know she’s cheating on me. I told you about Beck’s infidelity too.” He shrugs as if this is old news.

“Well do you know he told her he bought your shares out? Bucky was saying that the deal does not look good at all for you, Brock over the work video call he had. Also, I’m telling you this in confidence, since you have always been honest with me. I want to repay that by telling you this, on girls night back at Aspen, Sharon mentioned a prenup after Wanda got an email from Steve.”

“You’re speaking in circles, Y/N. So what if she mentioned one?” Brock rolls his eyes, but he fiddles with his collar.

“Brock, she said and I quote, ‘pretty sure Brocksie will have nothing soon, the prenup I have and the proof of his infidelity he loses all the remaining money to me.’” You wait for the words to sink in, you watch on as the emotional colours on his face change.

The calmness turns into shock, into anger, finally into calculative mode.

You wonder if there ever was love between the two or was it only love for the money?

“Fuck so she’s probably filed for the divorce. She was speaking to the damn lawyer. That liar!” Brock roars and you step back as he throws the glass on the floor.

“Brock–,”

“Who have you told?” He steps close to you.

“No one! I told you all this in confidence! Because you warned me about Beck and breaking up with him was helpful to me.”

“Oh please I only told you to break up with him because he would be distraught and not pay attention to any side deals I was doing.” Brock runs a hand through his hair several times.

“I’m sure he was fine, given his continued trips.” You roll your eyes now, “Anyways, I’ve moved on to better bank balances,” The words sour on your tongue but you have to keep up the charade, “I’m telling you this so you can save yourself and your money from Sharon.” You have to draw attention away from Beck.

“Good you told me, I’m going to fuck her over in this entire divorce, she fucking cheated on me first.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Look, say nothing during this, keep up the charade. Then get your lawyer to have her pay up.” You advise.

Wanda had seen the prenup, reading through the main reasons had to be whoever cheats loses everything. They now had to just prove who cheated first. Which would be their own battle in this sham marriage of their own.

“You’re right. That bitch shouldn’t see things coming.” He agrees, “I’m going to my table, if I need to get in touch with my lawyer I’ll ask you to cover for me in front of her okay?”

“Okay.” You agree.

“Now calm down and lets head back before she sees anything.” You lead Brock back and Bucky leads pushing the empty wheelchair with Sharon arm in arm with Aunt Tara from the other entrance. Fuck.

Bucky’s eyes widen the same way. They could not see you and Bucky individually interacting with each other’s spouses. It could cause suspicion, they played this game once already. It cost the two of you too much.

You push Brock towards the buffet, “What the fuck?” he trips hands landing in the ice kept for the oysters.

“Your wife.” You whisper-yell at him, waving your hands for him to look away.

“Right. Go.” He mutters and you shake your head, returning to your original place.

Wanda, Steve and Pietro share a glance with you, a subtle nod their way has them speaking in hushed whispers again.

Bucky sighs with relief as they help Uncle Al onto the wheelchair and Aunt Tara gives him a kiss on the cheek. Sharon is already taking her place next to Brock. The two share a loving glance.

Bucky walks to you at the emcee stand you both were to share, “Went as planned?”

“Yeah, hopefully they bicker soon enough.” You look up at him, “I really want them to pay. They played with us and they don’t even respect their marriage.”

“I know Sunshine. They will. If this plan doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out.” Bucky assures you cupping your cheek.

You kiss his palm, Wanda coughs. You can hear her tapping Steve’s watch again.

Bucky closes his eyes, “It was enough that I had to deal with her because of Steve.”

You giggle, “Oh come on you love her.”

“She’s alot like Becca, annoying younger sister.” He huffs, turning to face her and he glares at her.

She blows a raspberry at him, Pietro laughs and Steve just records Bucky’s bewildered expression.

“Puffin, let’s host this wedding.”

“Best emcees on the planet, Sunshine.”

Sarah Roger’s speech has everyone misty eyed, the pictures she showed on the projector of a young Steve, fighting off several ailments and sharing the known fact that it was going to be a miracle if he pulled through his hospitalisations.

To her retelling of the day she met Wanda in the grocery store and told Steve about a redhead woman who put a racist asshole in place all the while continuing her self check out. Onto the moment that the very same redhead appeared at her doorstep and was introduced as Steve’s girlfriend.

“And today, I get to introduce her as his wife,” She turns to look at Wanda, “You’ve been my daughter for a long time and now it just makes it legally binding.”

Wanda gives a watery laugh.

Steve kisses his wife’s cheek.

The guests clap and cheer. Sarah hands over the mic to Bucky, who hands it over to you. Only Bucky and you remained to give your best man and maid of honour speech. You were excited since the two of you were keeping each other’s words as surprises.

You’re about to introduce Bucky to take centre stage, when the scrape of a chair draws everyone’s attention.

“Sharon just shut the fuck up for one night!” Brock yells and the scraping of cutlery stops, so does the small murmuring,

“Me? You want me to shut up? Why don’t you shut down your whoring around, asshole!” Sharon demands from Brock.

“Me? What about you sleeping around since fucking college? Then even most of the guys I work with, you’re the one whoring around!” He accuses her and she scoffs.

“Your dick isn’t enough to keep me happy.”

“Yeah well nor is my money! Beck, seriously? I mean its enough you chase after every guy Y/N manages to get but fuck, going behind my back and having a deal with Beck?” Brock has disgust written all over his face.

“Please, she has no fucking–, the audacity you have? I could get any guy, I’m the prize and fuck you, you’re the one hungry for money!”

Brock seethes, Sharon’s chest rises and falls both searching for a verbal attack.

Bucky and you exchange a glance, the tensions were rising between them. The loved up display crumbling as the words of trust and love spewed on from the speakers.

“Sharon–,” Her father begins.

“No daddy! I should have listened to you, he is useless, his money is also gone now! You know I’m wearing the socialite’s second hand outfit? Me! Second hand!” Sharon stops her foot like a petulant child.

“Are you so shallow? Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with you? Mr. Carter your daughter is a fucking mess! She slept with my fucking business partner to one up Y/N! All for losing Barnes’ affections!” Brock points finally at the two of you.

“What about you? You wanted to sleep with her too to one up Barnes and Beck! You thought telling her about the cheating will have her be an easy fuck! You even wanted to fuck Wanda! I even tried getting with ‘illness ridden cousin Steve’ to make that happen for you! You know how disgusting he is!?” Sharon throws her drink on Brock and he smears the mashed potato across her face and neck.

The guests gasp and so does Sharon, “You fucker! Now we won’t be able to get our money back!”

“Well good you nicked the fucking without insurance rental!” Brock reminds her.

“Excuse me?” Wanda’s voice rings out the mic you held now in her hands.

Everyone turns to her, she waves at the crowd with a smile.

“Now, hey hello, thank you all for coming to my wedding. Lovely to have you all here, while I have your attention, security is on its way to take out the trash. Yes I’m talking about you Sharon and Brock. You insult my husband, both my families. You even insult our best friends, hell you’ve been insulting us all for ages. Take your stupid sham of a marriage out of this event hall, hell off of the property. You dare not try and come back.” Wanda smiles as the security comes in escorting the two of them out.

As they are heading out, the struggle Sharon puts up makes way for a waiter to drop his entire tray of beers for the father’s and uncles onto Sharon and Brock by default. You cover your mouth with your hand and Bucky doesn’t hold back his laugh. Pure karma.

“I wish I could say I planned that.” Wanda giggles. Steve chuckles, “I’m giving you credit.”

Sharon’s parents look apologetic as they move out of the hall as well.

The crowd breaks into whispers.

“Are the two of you alright?” Steve questions Bucky and you.

You’ve held onto Bucky’s hand tightly, his thumb swipes over the back of your hand.

Bucky still processes everything, there was so much hate they harboured out of jealousy.

You aren’t upset, just surprised at everything that transpired, surprised at the jealousy people were capable of feeling.

“Puffin?” You find yourself looking into his eyes, “Sunshine?”

Wanda smiles at the two of you, Steve smiles as well while Bucky cups your cheek, his lips crashing to yours, the kiss is bordering on sweet, happiness felt across the way his lips curve upwards, you giggle as he pulls you closer.

“Alright everyone, back to the speeches.” Wanda says once the two of you pull away staring at each other goofily grinning.”

Wanda hands you the mic back, “Everyone, I would like to introduce the Best Man, James Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend and my everything.”

The guests cheer, the couple take their seats again. Bucky takes the mic standing at the mark.

“Good Evening everyone, thank you for coming out to celebrate one of the sweetest love stories I’ve ever witnessed. Steve and Wanda were a pair probably made in some chaotic portion of heaven.” Bucky chuckles, while Steve and Wanda narrow their eyes at him.

“What I said, heaven not hell, though that would be accurate. Steve used to drag me to these lectures, I understood we were sneaking into Wanda’s class. Now I had my own selfish motivations when it came to attending, I had my sights set on some too.” Bucky looks at you, your cheeks heat.

Bucky smiles at you then continues, “Now Steve realised quite soon that I could be bribed by my crush to do his bidding. Yet again they pulled the same stunt for the wedding under the whole guise of tradition, but Y/N and I would have been their go to people in a heartbeat. I’ve known Stevie since we were kids. I’ve seen him at his weakest and strongest, his will and inner strength however never deterred. When he saw Wanda and asked her out. The first statement he told me while nursing a pint of Ben and Jerry’s was that he would one day marry her.”

Everyone aws, Steve’s face turned red. Wanda’s head rests on his shoulder.

“I knew then that this day would come, I just hadn’t known that I would also have my Sunshine by my side, watching our best friends who fell in love get married. Wanda, I know you will love and care for Steve in the way he deserves. You told me months ago that you’re stealing my best friend. Well Wan, my now annoying sister through marriage to my brother,”

You smile at the happiness that Wanda feels at the acceptance Bucky gives her.

“You’re the only person I trust with Steve’s heart, so even if you steal him away, I won’t fight back, because I know for one, Steve will kill me if I take him away from you. But I also know that when two halves of one soul meet, not even destiny can separate them. So cheers to you for proving soulmates exist and for making us all believe in true love again. Even if we had our hearts clouded about its existence.”

Bucky raises his glass, the guests follow suit. He goes over to their table. Steve pulls him in the biggest hug and the two laugh and wipe at their eyes. Pulling away and doing a bro hug to offset the emotions.

Wanda hugs Bucky tightly, then whispers something to him that makes him laugh. He pats her head, before turning to the crowd again.

“Everyone, I hope you have space in your hearts for one more speech, from the Maid of Honour, Y/N, bestest friend of Wanda and my raza de soare, my Sunshine,” Bucky holds out his hand for you to take, he kisses the back of your hand while retreating to the emcee stand.

He watches you with the softest gaze, you can’t help but feel a little shy. You look at the crowd, taking in a deep breath.

“Hi everyone, I know you all want to move onto dessert so I’ll try to keep this short.” It earns you a few laughs.

“I met Wanda not as early as I’d like, college was amazing with her and sometimes we would imagine what all stages of school would seem like if we were together back then as well. We have different theories but one thing we know for sure is we would have remained best friends.”

“When Wanda came over one day gushing over Steve Rogers I remember asking her who? And I swear she almost disowned me for not knowing who I was referring to, it is only after I clarified that I hope you aren’t talking about the blue eyed brunette who was in our class but never spoke, did she tell me ‘no Y/N, I’m speaking of the blue eyed blonde!’ You can imagine my immense relief at that point.”

Bucky shakes his head at you, the college class and finds your gaze again and again playing over in his mind as though it was yesterday.

“Safe to say after that I was dragged to football games, which again as Bucky didn’t mind an extra class, I didn’t mind those matches because he would be here. So we both were a little selfish amidst the love story taking place.” You shrug, “At least Bucky and I don’t take the blame for being kicked out of several places. That’s on the married couple.”

A few common and old friends laugh knowing all about what you mention.

“When Wanda told me she wanted to propose to Steve, I only asked her if she had the ring size right. I knew that it was the easiest decision she ever made in her life, choosing to spend it with Steve.” You look at Steve then, smiling at him.

“Steve, you're one of my closest friends and not just because Wanda pulls you into one of our gossip sessions or because you think you have to be nice to me on account of Wanda. You’re the elder brother I always wanted, I know I can come to you in happiness or sadness and I know without a shred of doubt you would be there for me.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

Wanda wipes the corner of her eyes.

“I knew one day I’d be Wanda’s Maid of Honour, everyone who knows our friendship knows we decided on the flower arrangement within the first year of becoming besties. What I didn’t know was the maze, Bucky and I would have to conjure to honour the requests of the parents. We were lost in it for so long trying to find our own ways out, but together” You look at Bucky. He looks at you with a smile. You both know this is going off topic.

“But I don’t want to escape it, I want to stay in it with you. I want to fall into it again with you, dragă mea.” You pause your speech, Bucky and your gazes locked upon each other.

Steve and Wanda share a knowing look, their efforts bearing fruit would never stop feeling fucking amazing.

“So yes, Steve and Wanda,” You break out of your spell with Bucky, “Thank you for reminding us about the fact that true love exists, that bonds can stand the test of time. May we all gather again together to renew your vows because yes, Wan and I have even planned that ceremony.” You look at Bucky, grining, “With military timing.” you add to annoy him. He huffs, but smiles.

“To Wanda and Steve, from crushes, to first great loves, to marriage, to forever.” You raise your glass, everyone follows suit. Bucky joins you, kissing your forehead.

The dance floor opens up then, while guests either eat dessert or choose to dance.

Bucky and you decide to step out on the beach for a quiet moment together, before Wanda comes in tapping away on Steve’s watch.

Your back against his chest, the music from inside muffled. The waves amplified. Bucky sways the two of you with his arms around you. Ever so often you lean back to share a kiss or just look at eachother with pure love.

The door slides open, amplifying the music, Sarah Rogers and Natalya Maximoff are laughing as they step out for air. Bucky and you shift to let them get some space as well.

They sigh happily. You both smile at them.

“Wonderful speeches both of you.” Sarah praises, “Really beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The two of you say at the same time.

“I have a question though.” Natalya tilts her head, Sarah grabs her arm.

“What question?” Bucky frowns.

“What was that tradition?” Natalya continues, trying to free her hand from Sarah.

“The tradition you told Wanda regarding the Maid of Honour and Best Man.” You remind her chuckling, she looks at you still confused.

“Nattie, I think you’re too drunk.” Sarah laughs it off.

“The one where those two title holders have to be married.” Bucky adds on, Sarah chuckles, pulling Natalya away, “Oh look I see Aunt Tara waving at us!”

They take quick steps in, “There is no tradition like that though, Sar.”

“Oh hush, I know.” Sarah says, but you both hear them.

At that moment the music was switched from pop to a soft ballad.

You turn in Bucky’s arms, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That our best friends had a military timing plan for us all this time?” He raises a brow.

You nod, he grabs your hand. Heading towards the dance floor again, trying to locate the two masterminds,

Pietro gestures out, the main doors that lead to the aisle. Sure enough the deck has an abandoned wedding dress and suit. The waves carry the moans over making Bucky and you step back inside to a safer place. Heading back to the reception hall.

Bucky stares at you for a moment before grinning, you look at him before remembering.

“I put in ‘abandoned reception for sex’.” You tell him your answer for the bookstore bet.

“I put in the same thing, Sunshine.” He chuckles, the two of you begin to laugh.

“May I have this dance Sunshine?” He offers his hand.

“You may, Puffin, I believe we have six years of dances to make up for,” Your hand fits into his as though made for him. Your other hand is upon his shoulder. Bucky’s free hand moves around your waist, pulling you closer.

His lips brush over your earlobe, “You sure you want to be stuck in this with me, Sunshine?” He can’t wait to tell you he knows about your ‘yes’.

“We made this labyrinth together, we’ll stay in it together, Puffin. Forever even.” You answer him, the music changes to your shared song.

The song reaches it’s end with you pressed up against Bucky. Your hearts beating in sync, happiness and love surrounding the two of you.

Sunshine and Puffin finally get to kiss at the end of their song without any interruption.

A.N.: well we only have the epilogue left! sunshine and puffin are in their labyrinth and love every minute of it.... let me know your thoughts! also brb crying because i love this fic so much

tagging: @slutforsexyseabass @elle14-blog1 @sxnshinebxcky @sebsgirl71479 @pandaxnienke @stevesmewmew @tfandtws @povlvr @tanyaspartak@maggiejackson3@brodymarx @ladylee76 @buckyinluv @buckymcbuckbarnes @almostcontentcreator @alltoounwellread @unaxv @stickyjudgeturtleghost(strikedthrough if unable to be tagged)

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ospreyeamon · 10 months

Text

revan as the ghost

I had the odd experience of playing KOTOR 1 and having my Revan, then playing KOTOR 2 and discovering that I liked its Revan more than mine. Revan as Narrative Ghost/Controversial Historical Figure is far more interesting to me than Revan as main character.

Part of it is that 2 fleshes out Dark-Side pre-amnesia Revan into a more compelling character. All of the juicy hints about the deeper plan and purpose behind the Jedi Civil War, the past relationship with Kreia who is as preoccupied with her former student’s legacy as with her own, the probable betrayal of Revan’s own forces led by the Exile at Malachor V.

The motivation of preparing for the future great war against the True Sith is great because it doesn’t preclude the other motivations of vengeance, power-lust, and the love of warfare. Revan might have despised the atrocities of the Jedi Civil Wars as evils necessary to save the galaxy. Revan might have subconsciously latched onto the True Sith as an excuse to solve the problems with the Republic and Jedi Order using outright warfare because everything looked like a nail after the Mandalorian Wars. Revan might have just been acting with an eye to the long-term logistics of forcibly holding power in the Republic post-conquest and was never planning on fighting the True Sith Empire because Revan thought it was a real threat, but because another war would be politically convenient. Revan might have slid from one to another over time.

Maybe Revan always considered himself to be loyal to the Republic, even if the Republic didn’t always appreciate the form that loyalty took. Maybe Revan decided that democracy doesn’t work and the Republic would be better off under a competent autocrat. Maybe Revan decided that the structure of the Republic’s constituent governments – mostly monarchies, aristocracies, and corporate plutocracy – meant that it wasn’t a real democracy and believed a benevolent dictatorship could be used to build a foundation of true democracy. Maybe the future long-term structure of the Republic’s government wasn’t a major consideration, with Revan taking the pragmatic view that the best government for the Republic would be the one that enabled it to survive.

Supplying that backstory as a jigsaw of character dialogue was an excellent choice, especially since it also works well for the events of the first game. Brianna the Handmaiden believes Revan showed the desire of his heart when he killed Malak during the Battle of Rakata Prime; Kreia thinks she’s completely wrong about that.

All the characters have at least heard of Revan; the Exile, Kreia, T4-M4, Mandalore, HK-47, and the Jedi Masters knew Revan personally. And, beyond being a mere person, Revan represents things to people.

Kreia is invested in the idea that Revan was always driven by some vision of a greater good, that she never became primarily ruled by hatred or power-lust. Kreia has a low opinion of those she views as dominated by emotion and is unwilling to believe her prize student ever fell into that trap. She really wants every choice her old Padawan made to have been well-informed and well-considered, always feeding towards Revan’s larger goals rather than undermining them. (Yet, there are a couple of Revan’s actions, like killing Malak, that I feel Kreia would have preferred to blame on the Force, on the unfairness of the universe, rather than on Revan.)

It’s a major blind-spot in Kreia’s assessment of Revan. Cutting Malak’s jaw off but keeping him as her second-in-command – seemingly not expecting any negative effect on Malak’s loyalty – is unlikely to have been anything but a short-sighted emotional outburst on Revan’s part.

In contrast to Kreia’s narrative, I think that Revan’s disappearance in unknown space between the games was unplanned and unwilling. Revan apparently spent years attempting to build a massive logistical staging ground for a war with the True Sith; locating the Star Forge, invading to capture Republic infrastructure, brutally converting captured Jedi. Why, after previously engaging in such large-scale preparation, would Revan leave to fight the True Sith alone, without telling anyone but T3-M4? Why would Revan leave without warning Admiral Carth of the Republic Navy and battle-meditation master Bastila Shan about the threat?

More likely, I think, that Revan’s memories were returning in tatters and scraps. Revan became increasingly sure that there was something important she couldn’t remember; some vital secret that would explain so much, and spell disaster if not uncovered. Revan’s journey to unknown space began as a temporary trip retracing a past journey, searching for prompts to resurface those memories. Something went wrong.

Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Revan despaired of the state the Jedi, Revanchist Sith, and Galactic Republic were in after the Battle of Rakata Prime and the “end” of the Jedi Civil War; despaired of the mess she had apparently made trying to manipulate the Republic and Jedi into forms capable of standing up to the True Sith. Maybe Revan came to doubt his previous assessment that the True Sith Empire were planning to invade the Galactic Republic, since it had been more than a decade since the beginning of the Mandalorian Wars with still no sign of them, and left to do some quiet scouting without raising what might be a false alarm that triggered an avoidable conflict.

Another judicious choice of character trait with KOTOR 2’s Revan was – and even post-amnesia still continued to be – secretive. Revan kept the grand strategy for the Mandalorian Wars close to her chest; good for operation security, but also good for hiding your plan to purge your own forces. Even HK-47 and Kreia, who were close to the Revanchist Sith’s upper command structure, aren’t certain what Revan was trying to achieve because Revan didn’t tell them. When Revan vanishes between the games, it is seemingly without having told any of her companions save T3-M4 where or that it was to investigate the True Sith Empire. That repeated failure to share information provides another justification for the ambiguity.

That bled through when I replayed 1 and imagined a new Revan, a stranger even to himself.

How did you change so much? Could you change again?

You remember your mother’s face, remember her voice as she read to you from the histories she loved so much, but the records in the Jedi archives imply that’s impossible, that you were given to the Order too young. You remember racing your swoop bike across the fields of Dantooine as a teenager; as a teenager you were a Padawan studying in the Enclave there. How many of your memories are real? How much of you is real?

Is there a monster slumbering under your skin that might awake, unravelling the person you are now to take your place? Did the young Revan have all the Jedi Masters fooled, rotten from the very beginning? Might you eventually live your life haunted by nightmares of committing another person’s atrocities?

More frightening than the idea that you and the Revan lost to amnesia are different is the idea that you are the same; that your past choices won’t be beyond comprehension or justification. If you remember, will you understand why you started the war? If you remember, will you understand why you bombed Telos? If you remember, will you discover that you have been the person who could make those choices all along?

#Meanwhile in a Galaxy Far Far Away #kotor meta #Revan #knights of the old republic 2 #knights of the old republic

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myrmica · 3 months

Note

mer, mer, I am trying to pick out important clips from The Team Awesome Meeting ?v=_koDVRp2nHI Streamed live 25/11/22 right before Zam decides to betray

but. instead i appear to be picking ~every time Zam does in fact try to convince Mapicc and Ro to not keep the dupes with words. doing a close-reading of zam's character arc in this stream into your inbox. thanks c:

(proper Directory Clips™ should include new frontiers in stream-sniping! Poafa is physically in Mapicc's room! while he's trying to convince Roshambo to burn the duped stuff!! push him out!! into a hot tub!?!)

42:00-54 do /bans count as "part of the lore" or is that "breaking the fourth wall"? does the legality of an exploit depend on whether you will or have made a banger video about it?

53:31-54:31 Mapicc gives up on 'I can only explain the loophole after you burn the dupes' and tells Roshambo that they only need to destroy certain categories of dupes and can keep the rest; Zam (who's been quiet for a while) backs Mapicc's whole contract argument pretty thoroughly, including the the-other-vaults-are-exempt part...

57:19-49 ...aaaand then immediately after Ro fulfils the contract (ish) Zam starts wondering if that contact is actually 'enough'. (and his vocal tone drifts into the stratosphere, man sounds all high and floaty and very very distressed) (i wanna say 'dissociating' but that might be reading more far in than sensible)

1:15:20-16:19 Roshambo and Mapicc argue about whether Ro should burn one stash of the duped withers; Zam is also arguing he should but neither of them pay the slightest attention to him, like it's actually incredible

1:16:21-30 Zam tries to ask "is it ethical to have thes—" and they cut him off to joke about how "Mapicc should get a wither a week, pocket money"

1:17:03-41 Zam protests an entire twice in a row about Mapicc ordertelling him to take ten duped god apples and sounds, again, so distressed

took me a bit to answer this ask because this intrigued me enough to want to watch through the whole vod myself. added these to the doc along with some additional clips! i've wanted to sit down and go through more of the pre-betrayal team awesome stuff for forever so thank youuuuuuuuuu for inspiring me do that :D

there are so many interesting character moments in here. like obviously because it's the three of them trying to work through a problem, but i love a good old fashioned lifesteal argument more than anything else in the world. it's really interesting how confident zam sounds when he's backing mapicc up prompted with a "you're on my side right?" and how unsure he sounds trying to voice any disagreement. earlier on in the stream, mapicc listing "and they tried to steal zam from us!" as one of the reasons he did something so dramatic against the APO..... and the whole thing sets up the tensions in mapicc & ro's relationship with each other really well too. this stream is definitely a more solid chronological starting point than the following stream where zam is debating with himself or hsh are on their own

#you can always analyze princezam in my inbox. every day of the week #lifesteal #m #asks

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dangans-ur-ronpas · 6 months

Text

Chapter 17

continuation of byakuya's no good very bad worst shit ass day of his life (so far)(!!!)

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

this chapter went a little different from how i originally planned bc I was going to make byakuya much more stupid. but. he needs to fly off the handle several times later so. we can't let loose all at once

to be very fair to makoto he did not want to do that. and yet. here we are

the king of kings!! @digitaldollsworld

Content warning tags: ableist language from various characters, Byakuya's panic spiral, mild self-harm reference

< previous - from start - next >

Time seems to grind to a halt. His breath is still caught in his throat, halfway through a relieved sigh as he had been waiting - expecting - for Makoto to help him. To pull up some vague, hidden piece of evidence to clear him of any suspicion, to cleverly point out some irrefutable proof that had previously lay unseen.

But instead - his heartbeats feel too heavy. His breathing feels too light, deprived of any real oxygen. His head pounds in the same way it did when he was struck earlier, with a dull, pulsing ring that washes out everything around him.

He prided himself, once, on being able to read a person’s intent. To judge just when and why they might choose to abandon him, to cross him, to try and use him for their own intents. For that reason, he supposes, is why this sickly, sticky feeling of dread is so new to him. He’s never known real betrayal before.

His eyes dart around the room, but the others don’t seem to believe Makoto just yet. Even Owada seems taken aback, stock still and quiet. Only Kirigiri seems unsurprised - or maybe, he was only imagining it, the tranquil quality of her silence. As if she were merely observing it all, far out of their reach.

“Seriously??” Syo’s voice is a grating jeer. “You’re telling me this whole time he had no idea what I looked like? No wonder he didn’t fall for me at first sight!”

“I…don’t think that’s the reason why,” Hagakure says, though he seems utterly bewildered. “But, that can’t be right, right? I’ve seen him reading loads of times. And he practically lives in the library, y’know?”

“Yeah, and he can do things just fine for himself.” Asahina says in agreement. “I mean, he does his own laundry and stuff, and he knows this place way better than me at least. I didn’t even know where the A/V room was during the first motive, I just sorta followed him.”

“Yes, this is sort of…” For the first time, Celeste sounds genuinely surprised, her usually unphased demeanor wavering, her accent slipping for a moment. “Ahem. While I did note that he sometimes seemed a bit…eccentric, so to speak, nothing of his actions suggested that he was impaired.”

Their skepticism is a small relief. He nods jerkily, unable to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to verbalize his agreement. But it’s a small, pathetic movement that goes unnoticed, hardly amounting to anything in this large courtroom.

And their disbelief only goes so far. Ogami speaks up now, for the first time since the trial began, her low voice immediately silencing the whispers.

“I performed a concussion test on him earlier,” She says, gruffly. “As Kyoko had asked me to. He was lucid when answering my questions, and he didn’t seem to exhibit any symptoms that couldn’t be attributed to other reasons.” There’s a slight creak of wood, as she shifts her weight on the stand. “However, I did notice that his pupils were…strange.”

“My- what?” He sputters now, too suddenly, too loudly. He reaches up to touch slightly-trembling fingers to a closed eye, feeling the smooth bump of the cornea twitching beneath the thin skin of his eyelid as if he might be able to identify the damage that way. Why hadn’t she mentioned this earlier? Why bring it up now? “What do you mean, ‘strange’?!”

There’s a slight, panicked edge to his voice that he hopes no one catches, but this was the first time he heard that there could be physical evidence to his affliction. “It was a bit hard to test without the proper tools, but I noticed that they do not react much to changes in light.” Ogami explains. “The shape is also slightly…off. If I had to describe it, I would say that there is…a warping around the edges.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?!”

“I assumed it was either due to the head injury, or, it was genetic.” There’s an apologetic note to her words. “Given your usual behavior, I…didn’t think it was important.”

Not important. As if she could know what was important here.

“I. Am not. Blind.” He snarls stiffly. “Obviously, I have never taken a close enough look at my own pupils to notice that deformation, but it has never affected my daily life. I am not disabled, nor have I ever been.”

“I find it hard to believe that you have never been aware of it.” Kyoko remarks, tone clipped. “I can’t imagine someone of your status being ignorant of anything concerning your physical health.”

“Then you can rest easy knowing that I am perfectly healthy.” He snaps back, venom flying off his words.

Distantly, he knows that he is digging a pit for himself. That admitting to this would help clear him of any suspicion at all. But he doesn’t care; he would rather die than suffer such indignity. That was what he’s always known, taught by his butler, and then reinforced by all his surroundings afterwards, his siblings, his father - better to perish and let your enemies cry with relief and count themselves lucky, than let them mock you as you dig your own grave.

“You should just admit it already. You are drawing this out to be unnecessarily long, or would you rather doom us all?”

“I don’t see why I should cooperate with someone who has been making mindless accusations at me all this while.”

There’s a tense, snappish tension between him and Kirigiri. A livewire current. A piece of elastic stretched taut. He glares, and to him, her blurred form looks like that of a reared snake.

“Um…” Asahina speaks up, her hand tentatively raised. “If Byakuya’s really blind, can’t we just test it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I mean! Not saying that you are blind, or anything,” She says this quickly, carefully, like soothing a spooked horse. “But, we’re not going to get anywhere if you two just keep arguing back and forth, and it’ll be really quick! Like, Sakura, can you hold up a few fingers?” She complies silently, one arm remaining crossed across her chest, the other raised to her side. “How many is she holding up?”

He tries not to squint, but he has no idea. Two? Three? It's nothing more that a blurred, brown shape. “You can’t be serious.” He almost laughs, but the sound he makes is derisive and bitter.

“Y-yes, this is-! Unfair!” Now it’s Yamada, speaking up again. “In case no one else has noticed, Mister Togami is lacking his spectacles! Asking such a thing of him…it’s akin to bullying!”

He’s oddly assertive about this, and Byakuya watches as he pushes his own glasses a little higher. For some reason, being considered something of an equal by Yamada irritates him further. “Shut up.” Who asked for his help.

“Yes, be still please,” Celeste sighs dismissively. “We are playing a game with our lives. This is hardly the time to be discussing moralistic issues.” There’s a slight metallic tap as she raps her silver finger guards against her rings. “But you do make a point. Byakuya does not have his glasses at the moment. It would be difficult to try and confirm anything without them.”

Thank goodness for those with common sense. He doesn’t look to his side, where she was standing, but he swears that he can see her eyes glancing at him, the unnatural red of her pupils bright on her pale face. “Yes,” he agrees, seizing upon it. “And they were broken earlier, thanks to Owada. Nearsightedness runs on my mother’s side, and the former Togami head was farsighted. I will admit that much, is that what you wanted? Kyoko?”

He’s rambling. He’s aware of it. But there are a few nods exchanged, and Asahina scratches at the back of her head awkwardly, as if embarrassed. Kirigiri, however, is still unmoved.

“No. When I say you are blind, I do not mean without your glasses. Or there wouldn’t have been a point in bringing it up in the first place.” Kirigiri shifts her weight slightly, the sway of her stance accompanied by the creak of wood. “Even without your glasses, you cannot do tasks such as reading. I imagine you’ve managed everything else by means of careful practice, but this is the one thing you can’t manage on your own.”

“Hey, Kyoko-” Makoto looks nervous, unsure whether to face him or her. “That-”

“And how do you plan to prove this?” Byakuya snarls. He feels a small flare of triumph, even despite everything, the looming threat of death. “As we found before, I don’t have my glasses. Did you happen to pick those up as well? Did you repair them for me while you were at it?”

Instead of offering a retort, or any sort of reply, she sighs. A soft, tired sound.

“Makoto.” She isn’t facing the other boy, but her tone is firm as she addresses him, and a little exasperated. She doesn’t say anything more, but Makoto seems to understand, and his hands drop to his sides.

“There is a way to prove it.” His voice is quiet. Quiet, and…sad, somehow. Defeated. “Byakuya…please show us your handbook.”

The realization sets in slowly. He’s already been betrayed by Makoto twice now, but still, he finds himself stunned, slack-jawed. This one was the worst by far - not only was he actively helping Kirigiri, he was betraying Chihiro as well, risking revealing everything to that accursed bear. And after all the lengths Byakuya had gone through to protect this secret.

“What are you saying,” He says, and his voice has a humiliating tremor that matches how his hands shake, clutching at the rail. Surely, he’s heard wrong. Surely, Makoto would correct himself, take it back-

“Your handbook. Chihiro, he…he put a program on it that lets you be able to do stuff like tell the time. It also reads stuff aloud. And he did it after the motives got revealed, that night when Celeste saw you guys leaving the bathhouse.” He sounds so somber, so sad and grieving. He won’t meet Byakuya’s eyes. “He did it in exchange for you teaching him how to be strong, and self-confident - which you did, by telling him to go around talking to everyone else today.”

Without really thinking about it, his hand goes to his inner jacket pocket, where his handbook sits. His fingers close around the little device, the hard edges of plastic and metal pressing into the creases of his palm. He feels a little like he’s been shot.

But he doesn’t bring it out. He glares instead, furiously, hatefully, at the boy standing just meters away. He - and Kirigiri too, most likely, Byakuya suspected that Makoto had already revealed everything that that woman - knew perfectly well the importance of Alter Ego, and why it could not, under any circumstances, be revealed. And they knew Byakuya was aware of this too, and they were holding this fact hostage, over his head.

(I could, some sore, beaten part of him thinks with poisonous intent, try and claim responsibility for Chihiro’s murder. I could say that they’re wrong. That I lured Chihiro to the bathhouse with the intent of making him less wary, easier to isolate. That he was so weak and trusting and stupid that killing him was a simple manner. That I mimicked Syo’s modus operandi to throw suspicion off of me.)

The mere thought was shameful, but it was his pride, wounded and bitter, that was seriously considering it, if only for some semblance of control. The barest reassurance that he had any real weight at all in this trial. And all he would need to do is open his mouth and say the words.

But instead, he bites down on his inner cheek, hard enough for blood to trickle out the corner of his mouth, hard enough for the pain to rival the buzzing in his temples. And tightens his grip momentarily, just enough to feel the faint, humming warmth of the handbook against his sweating palm, and exhales slowly.

“...Fine. Fine.” He spits, angry, defeated, exhausted. He’s sick of this. He just wants it to be over. “Yes. I’m blind. I have been so since we first woke up in this school. Are you happy now?”

Makoto looks down, his face shadowed by his hair. Kirigiri tilts her head slightly, a motion that’s not quite a nod but more of a bow.

“Wait, so then-” Asahina’s voice, confused and a little hesitant, pipes up. “If you’ve been…y’know, this whole time, but only after we got to this school…does that mean the Mastermind did this to you, somehow?”

“That’s what I would like to know, myself.” He turns to look at Monokuma, and finds the bear lounging across its throne, a bucket of popcorn resting precariously on the armrest. The repugnant toy giggles, and swings itself upright, spilling a handful of white puffs all over.

“Gosh, I wonder?” The thing taps at its chin, voice taking on a wondering tone. “Of course, I want this game to be fair and give you all a level playing field. I believe in equality after all! …Though this has made for so many entertaining developments, so…I figured I’d leave it as is. Besides, you’ve adapted quite well, haven’t you Mister Togami?” It cackles, paws clutching at its belly. “GIven how well you did hiding it from everyone, I think it’s fine if we leave it like this, don’t you think?”

He wants to cross the courtroom and throttle the stupid thing this instant. All he can do is glare murderously, lips twisted into a snarl.

There’s a sharp clap that has most people jumping. The source of the sound is Kirigiri, whose hands are raised, and pressed together. “Let’s move on.” Her voice is firm, with no room for arguing. “All we’ve done so far is clear one person’s innocence. We still need to identify the real killer.”

And that was it. The most disgusting moment of his life, over just like that, ended by her words. He knows that there’s bound to be some kind of punishment in store for those who interrupt trials, but he briefly wonders if he can get his hands around her neck before Monokuma can react.

Owada jerks at Kirigiri’s words, startled out of his own stunned silence. “W-wait,” He sounds panicked now, and of course he would be. His scapegoat is gone. “Then, if it’s not Byakuya, then who…?”

“Let’s consider what we know. Given how it’s not clear where the murder took place, it would have to be someone who had access to cleaning supplies or water, and has no alibi that can be verified when the murder occurred. For the most part, everyone here has an alibi that can be supported by at least one other person, but there are some that do not.” Kirigiri lists these calmly, and Byakuya imagines her cold gaze, flitting between each person in the room. “Mondo. Do you care to explain what you were doing prior to the body’s discovery?”

The effect is immediate. The other boy rears up, instantly furious. “The fuck are you trying to say? That I’m a murderer?!” He thunders. “Like I said earlier, I was taking care of my bro. You know that. Everyone knows that!”

“As you said earlier, Taka is currently compromised. He can’t give a testimony.” She shoots back without hesitation. “Your alibi is flawed.”

“Yeah? Well - well so’s yours!” He sputters. “Like- Syo might’ve been the one to find you in the bathroom, but that was just before Chihiro was found. Toko can’t say that you weren’t there the whole time, a-and even if you were, maybe the bathroom was where Chihiro died anyways!”

Owada may be stupid, but credit where credit was due, he was surprisingly quick to retort and pick at Kirigiri’s excuse. “I could not have cleaned up a murder scene in the bathroom so spotlessly in the time between Chihiro’s last sighting and the body discovery. As Makoto described earlier, the sinks of the bathroom were all dry-”

“There was that sheet, you could’ve used that before smashing Chihiro’s head over it. And there’s water in the toilets, right? And the girl’s bathroom was right next door!”

“...I’ll commend you for recognizing my perseverance. But I did not kill Chihiro.” She shakes her head. “If the only thing that will clear me is secondhand support to my alibi, then the only thing that needs to be done is to ask a witness. Toko?”

And she addresses Syo now, who just cocks her head for a moment, and shrugs. “I keep sayin’ to you guys, it’s lights out up there. There’s no telling when she’ll be back!”

Byakuya has had enough.

“Toko,” He says first, his voice low and hissing. Then, louder, building into a shout: “TOKO. Come out, NOW!”

“I don’t think it works like tha-” Syo’s words are cut off suddenly, and she collapses where she stands, like a puppet with her strings cut.

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#thpff #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #byakuya mentally filing for a second naegami divorce #sorry this one took so long.....my frontal lobe. it is soup #combination filing taxes + applying for classes + applying for jobs + etc etc. it'll do it to ya #going to really really really try to get 18 up by sunday but if its delayed do u prommy not to be too mad at me. do you. pls pls pls #i jest tho. thank u to everyone who has been reading thus far i hope you continue to enjoy it or move on to other things #just knowing you were here even if just for a moment even if for the whole ride is enough for me #i hope this chapter is legible i cranked out the last half of it at 2 am on a half bottle of soju #also had to mentally go over everything twice bc ive been listening to His Dark Materials audiobooks and my writing was turning british #byakuya frothing furious angry defeated at the stand while kyoko is just. o<-< are we done yet. can we please talk about the murder #theyre both toxic here and making everyone bear witness to it #alright folks lets take bets now on who you think the killer is!!!

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