#and we both agree that some poor writing choices have been made
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Confess the longing you are dreaming of
summary: Aemond thinks the woman he has to marry is the most impudent and unsufferable he’s ever met. He’s also never wanted anyone so badly.
pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader (third person, no mention of Y/N)
warnings: bantering and teasing, mentions of unpleasant sexual experience, praise kink (guess who’s got it), a dollop of softness, mild smut (... for starters ;)
author’s note: couldn’t get the idea out of my head and spent a few sleepless nights writing this. I imagine her brothers as Pedro Pascal and Oscar Isaac ✨
words: ~8000
song inspo: Hozier — Better love
>>> Aemond isn’t present when the idea is voiced the first time — he has a hunch that his grandsire is to blame for that. No doubt, Otto was the one to plan it out, come up with arguments served with his persuasive tone. He’s always loved to make arrangements and strike deals, each one of them to play into his hands, and Aemond hates the thought of being just another pawn of his.
He is blindsided at the breakfast but it’s made sound carelessly mundane — as Otto puts down his cup, he throws him the proposal, the way one would leniently throw alms to the poor. And Aemond thinks he must’ve heard him wrong.
“Marry me to... Who?” the prince asks, hardly covering his surprise.
His grandsire directs his gaze at him, the old man’s mouth twitching into a condescending smile. Since Otto isn’t keen on idle talk, he tells him plainly:
“You’ve long been of age, Aemond, you know that,” his knife scratches the plate as he cuts the meat, his eyes not moving from the prince. “House Martell holds power, and we’ll be fortunate to have such allies. Besides,” he pauses to take a bite, and Aemond gets annoyed at waiting; Otto chews, then adds, “I’ve only heard good things about your bride-to-be. Wouldn’t you confirm, Ser Criston?”
The mention of the knight is unexpected to them both — Aemond turns his head to meet Ser Criston’s puzzled look. But the brunet effortlessly copes with his emotions:
“We met when she was just a kid. But I knew she’d grow into a fine lady,” he easily agrees. Mayhaps, too easily for Aemond’s liking so he makes a note to talk about it later on.
His grandsire only lets out a pleased hum. “Well, I’m under the impression she will make a good match for our prince,” and Aemond feels that Otto carefully picks each word, “She’s said to be both beautiful and smart, and known for being quite independent,” he’s usually so stingy with his praise, it’s worth its weight in gold.
But that is not what Aemond hears. The choice was made for him, and his rejection of it makes him paint a portrait less alluring — a pompous wayward woman raised in the traditions that are starkly different from his; and yet, it is expected of him to accept it freely. His wounded ego simmers at the thought.
“I’d add another word to that,” Aegon chimes in, half-drunk already, “Everyone knows the Martells to also be promisc—”
“Look who’s talking,” Otto glares at him, and Aegon shuts his mouth.
The word is left unsaid, only the meaning of it isn’t hard to guess, and Aemond feels embarrassment creeping up his cheeks and weighting down his chest. He deems himself an educated man, well-read and eager to put his knowledge to the test, but he has yet to learn of carnal pleasures. A memory is clawing out: him, ten-and-three and plied with wine, laid on a bed that smelled of sweat, a naked woman next to him. Despite her tireless attempts, he wanted none of it, and the repulsion made him sick — and then it made him hate the act itself.
He did go to the brothel through the years, tried watching, touching, looked at bodies of all sorts, only it felt like putting paint over a rotten wall. He felt constrained, and lacking in some way (perhaps, in many), and more so awfully incomplete. Not once he sensed a spark, a pleasure he would crave, and no amount of effort could help him fill the emptiness inside.
He quells the feeling, pushes in indifference instead, and glances briefly at his mother. She meets his eye but only grants him a faint smile, her own gaze lacking any protest.
“Her brothers wrote that they would visit in a fortnight,” Alicent peacefully explains. “It is our duty to ensure a royal welcome.”
“Brothers?” Helaena blithely chirps. “How many does she have?”
“Four but only two of them are coming,” Otto tells her softly, then looks at Aemond, adding in a voice more wily. “I am convinced they really want to see whom their dear sister is about to marry.”
He doesn’t spell it out but the implication can’t be clearer — Aemond must play the part and make a good impression. As if impressing just one stranger wasn’t tedious enough.
As if he isn’t vexed already by how unsuitable he finds her.
>>> Frustration grows in Aemond with each day, takes roots, and clogs up all his thoughts. Some other man would’ve been glad — he often heard that the Martells are quite the lovers. He can’t admit it to himself how much he’s bothered by his own misfortunes on the love field.
He bottles his emotions up and doesn’t utter any word of discontent, nor does he ever speak of the awaited visit. Although he makes just one exception.
“My grandsire mentioned that you knew her,” he reminds Ser Criston one day after training.
The knight nods. “I crossed paths with Quentyn, he’s the oldest. She used to come to watch us train.”
“What was she like?” Aemond carefully wonders.
Ser Criston ponders for a minute, polishing his sword. “She was a quiet little girl, kept to herself. A lot of boys were always chasing after her, and she paid them all no mind,” he smiles at the memory. “But I remember one of them who was... particularly pesky. His charms didn’t work on her so he got offended, rude, followed her around. She tolerated him for over a month. One morning, he was hassling her in the training yard, and she just took a spear laying nearby — and smacked him with no warning,” he shakes his head but it’s apparent that he isn’t judging. “She didn’t use the pointy end but she got him good. And then she told him that next time he would think twice about his actions. She was impressive for a ten-year-old,” he muses and puts the sword away, then turns to Aemond, giving him a wistful stare. “Frankly, I think that you will like her.”
He does, for just a second, as his mind rushes to paint the image of a fearless little girl; and then he mercilessly wipes that image off. Maybe in other circumstances, he could’ve found amusement in that story, but Aemond only huffs and thinks back to the list of all her traits he prematurely made up. He adds “rebellious” to that list, and his self-doubt is a venom that clouds his judgment. He’s in no rush to find a cure.
>>> Their ship arrives a few hours earlier than planned — and after the dock watchers break the news, the bustle begins. Maids, servants, guards all run and faff about the castle, the dining hall gets filled with smells and noises, plates and dishes clanking.
Aemond is not excited in the slightest.
He dresses up reluctantly, each piece of clothes only dampening his mood that’s been already sour for the past two weeks. He all but drags his feet into the dining hall and by the time he reaches it, he looks so grim that one may think the prince’s preparing for his death, no less.
The minutes fly too quickly for his liking — they barely have time to sit, his mother nervously toying with the tablecloth already, and then the guards rush to announce the guests. Surprisingly, she’s not among them. The prince thinks he should be relieved; deep down, there is a splash of worry fizzling in him.
Her brothers walk in calmly in a cloud of servants bearing gifts. Their kinship is immediately clear — both tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-haired, self-confidence subsisting in their every step. The oldest is distinguished by a touch of gray in his short beard, his gaze more focused, a slight smile plastered on his face. The other one shamelessly stares at every maid his eyes can catch.
“Your grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Quentyn reaches their table first, and Alicent walks down to greet them. He keeps his distance and his smile, his tone is measured. “We were so sad to learn that the King has fallen sick. But I can tell the Kingdom is in great hands. And —”
“Women’s hands do have a healing touch,” Oberyn smoothly interrupts, his accent a bit thicker, his voice honeyed. “I will prefer a Queen over a King at any given day. Unless, of course, your husband can compete with you in beauty... I somehow doubt that.”
A shade of disapproval grazes Quentyn’s face but Alicent is too amazed to notice. The compliment may come off as blunt but she still takes it well, her smile embarrassed yet sincere.
“I hope you will enjoy your stay,” she tells them humbly, then looks over the crowd. “But may I ask where is the lady we’ve been waiting for?”
“She made a stop on our way to catch up with an old friend,” Quentyn answers, ready to explain, “It’s been years since we’ve met Ser —”
“Still can’t believe he is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Oberyn chuckles. “I think it’s all the armor that makes it look like he poses a threat. But you may reconsider if you see him in the nude.”
This time, the older brother glares at him with warning, and there’s a lull in their conversation, while Aemond’s struggling to hear what made his mother’s cheeks so red, his mind nervously preoccupied with someone else —
her laughter enters first.
It’s bright and joyful, a sound so lovely it might be enough to crack up his restraint. But then he spots her, and it feels like his whole body flares up at the sight.
She’s walking with her hand under Ser Criston’s arm, and Aemond’s never seen a dress that covers so much but hides so little. It’s muted orange, floor-length, made of sumptuous silk, with two long slits along the sides, curves of her thighs beguilingly seen through. Her neck and arms aren’t covered, and the material is intricately stitched around her waist to show a few more glimpses of her sun-kissed skin. The waves of her long hair fall on her shoulders and frame her face, each feature of it striking but her lips stand out the most — full, plump, and reddish. Not once before Aemond found the thought of being kissed so tempting.
She doesn’t even turn her head to look at him. She’s talking to Ser Criston quietly, and he’s engaged in conversation, unusually relaxed. Their difference in age is obvious, and the knight seems like just another relative of hers, but an uneasy feeling still leaves a bite on Aemond’s chest. He can’t imagine her so carefree — so beaming and compliant — by his side. His jealousy tastes bitter like a stale wine.
He hears his brother let out a short laugh. “It’s not like they were fucking,” Aegon carelessly notes. “Please ease your outrage before she runs away.”
“I don’t remember asking for advice,” Aemond snarls.
“You do look like you need it,” the blond comments, then goes back to drinking.
She gracefully approaches them, her voice melodic like a murmur of a river. “Forgive me, your grace, for being late, I haven’t seen Ser Criston in some time,” she tells his mother. “He was once a dear friend of mine.”
“I only helped to shush away a few of your admirers,” the knight cackles, earning a smile from her.
“I hope you are making use of all his talents,” she says to the Queen, making her face flush right away.
She delicately moves on to another topic. “It is a pleasure to have you here, you must be tired from taking such a long trip.”
“We found it quite enjoyable,” Quentyn remarks politely. “The beautiful sights along the way are worth the journey, and your city has some great views too.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard great things about your food,” Oberyn grins. “Hence why we took the liberty to bring some of our own,” he signals to the nearest servant, who runs to open one of the trunks they carried. “The dornish fruits are also my sister’s weak spot.”
“As if you don’t gorge yourself on them!” she jests, letting go of Ser Criston’s arm at last. “My brother is a glutton, your grace, please excuse his manners in advance.”
“You can call me Alicent,” his mother corrects her warmly. “Only seems fair to continue this discussion at the table,” she slightly moves away to let the girl go first.
Aemond unintentionally stiffens and only when he stands up from his chair to greet her, she finally does look at him. In contrast to her countenance, her gaze is dark and piercing, and the prince is staggered by how unreadable it is. Her brothers glance at Aemond briefly — Quentyn is pensive, while Oberyn looks like he wants to bite his head off; neither says a word.
She’s seated to his right, and she leaves behind a trail of scent — apples and plums, and he can’t help but catch the movement of her hips under the flowing dress. The words all mash and fall apart, and he can’t pick a single one to strike up a conversation.
Aegon is sitting next to her, and his patience only lasts a minute. “Never knew Ser Criston was such a ladies' man.”
“I’m sure he succeeded on that front but we are merely good friends,” she answers calmly, keeping her eyes on servants bringing fruits — blood oranges and pomegranates, robust grapes, and ripened cherries.
“You two seemed more than friendly,” Aegon presses, his tone evidently taunting.
She picks a golden apricot and runs her thumb over its fragrant surface. “Maybe it’s the wine that makes you see things,” she rebuts and takes a bite out of the fruit, a drop of juice risking to escape her mouth but she wipes it swiftly with her finger. She catches Aemond looking, and his cheeks heat up.
“We’ve never seen him in the company of a woman,” the older prince points out, filling up his cup once more.
She takes out the kernel and eats up the fruit, her mouth glistens. “Aren’t the knights of the Kingsguard forbidden to marry?”
“Never stopped them from bedding whoever they like,” Aegon remarks crudely, and Aemond is thankful that their mother is too preoccupied with Oberyn’s tireless chatting.
“Maybe some men have the decency to follow orders,” she responds, unbothered, taking a cherry and clasping it with her lips. Aegon doesn’t seem to notice and only gulps the wine and rolls his eyes. Aemond can’t look away.
“Aren’t you Martells known for not following the rules? I thought unruly was in your house’s motto,” Aegon argues, a corner of his mouth curled in a smirk.
She takes another cherry, the third in a row, her lips already stained with juice. “I think you keep getting your facts wrong,” she brushes him off, and Aegon goes to object some more but spills the wine right on his shirt. The displeased cry brings Aemond out of his trance.
“He tends to do that when he’s drunk,” the one-eyed prince coolly interjects.
Her eyes flicker to him, then she fully turns her head. “So you can actually talk,” her teasing comes off soft but her gaze still burns. “It’s good to know.”
“You seemed preoccupied with someone else,” he musters an excuse.
“Do you expect your wife to never speak to other men?” her voice almost betrays her disenchantment.
“No,” Aemond quickly answers, caught unawares by how strained his thinking process is. “She— you are free to choose your friends, of course.”
“I’m flattered,” her tone suggesting otherwise, “Not that I would ask for anyone’s approval,” she reaches for a plum; he closes his eye with a sigh.
Aegon comes to stand in between them on the pretext of needing another carafe of wine: “I didn’t mean to interrupt your friendly bickering, please continue.”
“It seems like Aemond isn’t in the mood for talking,” she doesn’t look at him, the tip of her tongue darting to lick her finger. “And I am never in the mood for begging.”
“My brother’s hospitality leaves much to be desired,” Aegon takes a sip. “So I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer,” his hand falls on her chair. “But if you ever wish to be... well satisfied, all you have to do is ask me”.
It’s hard to tell if Aegon’s actually that drunk or merely provoking (or if he’s got a death wish, Aemond wonders).
She replies without much thought. “Well, if I ever find myself in need of...,” she trails off with a smile but her gaze gets harsh — her words then follow, “My choice won’t fall on you,” the smirk falls off Aegon’s face, and she glances straight at Aemond, adding, “I like them taller.”
But her straightforwardness is met with his resistance, with the deep-rooted unacceptance of his lurking needs. He adds “indecent” to the list, and they speak no more.
>>> Her boldness doesn’t pose a problem to anyone but him. To his surprise (or more so to his shock), his mother gives in first.
The morning can’t come fast enough for Aemond after he spends the night tossing and turning. A few hours later he rushes to the garden for a walk, overwhelmed by restlessness his training didn’t help him cope with. That’s when he sees it — a spot of yellow shining through the trees. He somehow knows it’s her without further confirmation but still, his feet carry him on.
Her dress is vivid like a field of marigolds, her hair plaited, wrists adorned with golden bracelets. He slackens pace and peers into her — and he wants nothing more than to drink her up, her whole appearance is the sweetest nectar... Until he hears another sound and realizes she is not alone, and it’s his mother sitting by her side, wrapped in her favorite green and, unexpectedly, in glee. He can’t remember when he saw her laugh like this — out loud, giggling, tears at the corners of her eyes are not from sadness but from joy.
“My dear, that is so improper! Did he apologize at least?” Alicent inquires with a smile.
“Oberyn rarely does,” she tells her serenely. “His lover looked way more ashamed. I hope each of your rooms has locks, gods know I don’t want to walk in on him again.”
Unlike his mother who is covered by the shade of trees, she’s bathing in the sun, the soft light caressing her skin, and Aemond’s eye greedily follows every ray. In barely a minute he feels warm all over.
“I hope that Aemond’s chambers got locks too,” she adds all of a sudden, a bit louder, and his chest is splashed with cold.
His eye moves to her face, and she’s already looking at him, direct and daring. He knows he’s hidden by the trees but there’s no hiding from her gaze.
Aemond turns away and steps back in haste, his abashment mixed with grievance at her implication. He believes someone like her would never lust for him, and her jokes at his expense not only hurt but prompt his resentment to grow stronger. He adds “deceptive” to the portrait of her he is so adamantly set on painting.
>>> She wins Helaena’s heart with ease. His sister fondly compliments her brooch — a little poppy made out of gold — and she gifts it to Helaena the same day. The silver-haired princess grabs at chance to show her own collection, and they spend the day looking through the jewels spread over the floor, sitting right there and equally amused.
And that’s how Aemond finds them. He only planned to see his nephews but hearing her voice coming from Helaena’s chambers makes him slow his step.
“... And this one he gave me for my latest name day,” Helaena babbles cheerfully.
“Aemond clearly spoils you,” she laughs without a shade of envy. “As he should!”
“He is very kind at heart,” Helaena eagerly assures her. “You will be happy with him, I am certain of it.”
There is a pause that makes him feel uneasy, makes him sneak up closer to the room.
“I do believe he’s not an evil man,” she finally says, “Maybe he just wasn’t made for marriage.”
Surely she can’t see him through the door but he can swear that he feels her gaze, like a silent challenge, a hidden mocking. He barges in without a knock.
Helaena beams. “We were just talking about you!”
His sister’s dress is milky blue, modestly pretty, and loosely fitted. It’s also treacherously pale compared to the liquid gold the Martell girl is dressed in. She’s sitting with her feet under her thighs, the bending of her back is bare and in plain sight. He should’ve walked away the second he heard the sound of her voice because not looking at her seems impossible.
“Oh, you came to see the twins? They are with Aegon but I can call— No, I will bring them back myself,” Helaena springs to her feet, rosy-cheeked and smiley, and leaves the room before Aemond can protest. And then it’s just the two of them.
He takes a breath and makes an effort, with his jaw tense and his blood rising, to drag his eye away from her. It feels as pointless as ignoring sunlight in an open field on a summer day. Only her beauty is more brazen — and so is her wit.
“I take it, gold isn’t your favorite color,” she speaks up with an impish tone. “Would be a bad idea to wear it on our wedding then.”
She never comes too close, always just a little out of reach, and yet he feels as if her presence grips him, weakening his will. He doesn’t want to be with her until he is — and then he has no wish to leave.
It scares Aemond as much as it spikes his anger.
“Why did you agree to come?” he bristles.
“You are not asking about your sister’s chambers, are you?” she clarifies, and he hears her smiling.
He tells himself he only needs to cast a glance to check.
He does — he meets her gaze — her earrings catch the sunlight and cast a trail of glares — the scattering of specks play on her skin, her neck and collarbones, sneak to her upper chest — his own is heaving. His struggle only lasts a moment but it leaves him short of breath. He isn’t looking anymore, his eye trying to discern the pattern on the drapes behind her.
“Our marriage, how do you benefit from it?” he hates how hard it is to control his voice.
And how she watches him intently without giving him a clue of what’s on her mind.
“I plan on visiting my family a couple of times a year. It will be easier to do on dragon back,” she doesn’t sound spiteful when she says it but her words still sting.
He can’t stop an image flashing through his mind: her on top of Vhagar, lungs full of air, pressed to him. It’s tempting — to have her in his hands, and yet the vision is too intangible to cling to. Instead, he thinks that in just three days she learned to play him like a harp, his years' worth of self-control is merely a sand castle against the tide of her sharp tongue.
He only snickers dryly at her reply, then they both hear the sound of running footsteps. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys rush to greet him — but almost instantly abandon, the kids' attention drawn to the shining golden dress.
He thinks “unruly” suits her better than does “pompous”. He comes up with a fake excuse to leave; the image of her stays with him.
>>> He picks more adjectives as the week goes on — she’s audacious, disobedient, wanton. She moves around the castle as if she owns every room she’s in. She wears less, and even on rare occasions when she doesn’t, her defiance more than compensates for it. She never shies away from a deep neckline, nor does she feel the need to hold back her resounding laughs. Her jewelry clinks, each of her dresses is brighter than the other, but it’s her wicked mouth his eye always falls on first.
More times than not, Aemond can’t tear his gaze away, each meal for him now both a torture and a feast.
He watches as she parts her lips, puts them around a luscious grape, a cherry, or a peach, she swipes her tongue to lick up every running drop, savoring its tang — and keeps eye contact with him. He barely can taste the food he’s eating, and no wine can quench his thirst, his body flooding with a feeling he can’t define, his heart adrift.
He tries to fight it off with all our strength. He scratches off “unruly” to write down “unabashed” instead.
But then the dinner comes, and even though he’s never had a taste for sweets, he thinks he’d eat them from her lips (deep down, he wants to). The lies he tells himself are brittle like the flesh of fruits under her teeth.
>>> He comes to think “insufferable” fits her the best. That thought rings in his head while he is standing in the stable, his eye on anything but her. He was informed she wished to pick a horse, and he begrudgingly agreed to come, only to keep up the pretense.
What turns out to be much harder is for him to keep restraint. The dress she’s wearing might as well be a chemise — it’s just as light and white, and much to his discomfort, it also tirelessly risks hiking up to expose more of her legs.
Discomfort, mayhaps, isn’t the right word for it.
He stays out of her way but, unsurprisingly, he ends up looking — at how she walks, spring in her step, swinging her hips. She gives each horse a piece of apple and feeds them by hand, strokes their muzzles, and then she mounts and rides them, one by one. She grabs the reins, her foot easily finds the stirrup, and as she swings her leg over the saddle, her dress slips up, showing a few inches of her skin.
He swallows thickly, glances more intently — over her dainty ankles, bending of her knees, he notes how smooth her skin is, soaking up the sun. Her dress then billows slightly, and his eye glides higher, hungry, follows up the contour of her thighs that bounce a little as the horse gallops.
He feels it blooming — a sensation with no name that travels from the lower chest down to his very navel, then spreads and tightens all that’s underneath.
He is so deep in his enthrallment, he doesn’t hear the steps approaching until there’s someone standing next to him. Quentyn stays silent for a minute, throwing him a sideways glance.
“My sister’s always been terribly picky,” the man says out of the blue, “And usually it’s hard to meet all of her demands,” — it doesn’t seem like it’s the horses he is talking of. The vagueness of it makes Aemond focus as he takes his eye off her but Quentyn doesn’t elaborate, giving him a smile instead. “I do admit, your patience is commendable. Some other man would’ve already interfered just to wrap the process up.”
“I was under the impression she doesn’t need anyone’s help,” Aemond replies evasively.
“You guessed it right,” Quentyn titters, his tone veiled with the same unclear meaning when he adds, “The only thing left for us all is to accept it,” and with that, he goes to join his sister.
When Aemond — tamely, almost yielding — takes a peek at her, his gaze collides with Oberyn’s who clearly watched them talk. Unlike his older brother, he prefers to stay away, but the mischief in him pairs really well with danger. He grants Aemond a nod, switching attention back to her, his threats unspoken for the meantime.
For just a second, it gives Aemond pause as he finds it odd that no one brings up their wedding, and no announcements have been made ever since she came. He doesn’t mull over it for long because her laughter interrupts his thoughts (or maybe he just yearns for any chance to look at her). She rides around the yard, her hair floating in the wind, a little breathless but breathtaking, her lips enticing and her curves making his throat dry.
He tries to ground himself, to look for explanations, for some reprieve from the entrancing spell he’s under — he’s never been so close to losing reason —
out of the corner of his eye, he sees a couple of guards dropping their gaze in poor attempts to stop themselves from gawking; it reins his passion, bringing back his jealousy instead. He’s way too used to seeing himself unworthy to even entertain the thought of having her, and his denial prickles. He wants to burn his feelings out, and anger helps with that — it breaks out and engulfs him fast, hardening both his heart and gaze.
“Quentyn is the friendliest of the two, and you couldn’t hold a conversation?” Aegon appears out of nowhere, seemingly displeased despite the bottle in his hand. “Must you always be so gruff? I stayed behind in hopes you’d make it work!” he waves at Oberyn then glares at Aemond, waiting for a reply. “Are you pretending to be deaf or...?”
“Must she test my patience?” Aemond mutters, his tone not jealous but exasperated, his eye boring into her, “Putting herself out like that for all the men to see.”
Aegon being speechless is a rare sight. He cannot fathom it at first, looking from Aemond back to her, confusion sobering him up. And then he grins, realization creeping up on him; there are some things he’s always quick to notice.
“It’s funny that you say that,” he leans in to tell him and catches Aemond’s gaze, “Since it’s just you who’s staring,” Aegon pats him on the back and leaves to greet her brothers.
Aemond tries to choke it down — his irritation and his shame combined, but it’s too much for him to handle, his head and heart clearly in conflict. He doesn’t wait for her to make a choice, retiring without sparing her a glance (a fear nibs at him that if he looks at her once more, he will stay rooted to the ground).
He doesn’t leave his chambers for the remainder of the day, dining all alone and fuming all the same. He’s usually good at curbing his emotions but he is having trouble understanding them, wanting nothing more than to erase all memories of her. But even in his solitude, he catches himself thinking — about her cunning smile and swaying hips, her eyes on him, his hands wanting to roam and touch and —
Aemond shoves unwanted thoughts away and goes to bed earlier than usual. He remains steadfast in his resolve to find some peace, he makes a conscious effort to shift his focus to all the boring, random things his mind can come up with until he is too tired to care.
But then he falls asleep, and his subconscious welcomes her. He sees her right before his eye in that obscenely short white dress, there are no people in the yard, her tantalizing moves all meant for him. She hops off her black horse and walks to him without a single word — anticipation makes him drop his guard and hold his breath — and then he feels her lips on his, her body pressing into him, his hunger for her ruining his self-control, the kiss is searing, suffocating, driving him insane, his fingers pulling up her dress —
he wakes up painfully aroused.
He lays in bed, his heartbeat rushing, his breathing ragged, and vision blurred. While he’s still grasping for the remnants of his dream, he sneaks his hand into his breeches, wishing he could rip her dress off and sheath himself inside her, spread her on his bed, and drink every salacious sound she makes... It only takes him a few strokes to spill over his fingers; he can’t remember if he’s ever reached his peak so fast.
And only then, as he comes down from his high, it hits him, like lightning in the dark — in spite of her remarks, her audacity, her dresses, and every cruel adjective he’s found for her, he’s never wanted anyone so badly. Aemond sits up abruptly, his sleep gone, giving way to stubbornness that comes hand in hand with reticence. He persuades himself that he’ll suppress this — the spark, the pleasure that he craves, and he won’t be a slave to his desires.
He’ll rid himself of feelings, of this lust. Inevitably it will wane.
>>> It doesn’t.
Desire is a guest that never leaves, unwanted but demanding space, attention, time. It slips into his thoughts the moment he wakes up, it whispers in his ears, never giving up, it’s layered in between his clothes and his skin. He hides it well from everyone; it lodges deeper into him.
Desire is a cherry in her mouth, each fruit she bites in, savors, drinks the juice from. He doesn’t want to watch — he can’t take his eye off her, caught in his fervor like in undertow, the flavor of her lips the only one he truly yearns for.
Desire bruises more than does a hit, cuts deeper than a blade, and there’s no weapon he can fight it off with. His training brings him no relief, and he can’t sweat it out or wash it off him, and even while he soaking in a bath, it feels like longing only rises back with steam.
Desire waits for him at night, stands by his bed, slides right under the covers with him. He dreams of her, and in those dreams, her body sings under his every touch, trembles from his praise, his hands and mouth paint her with marks and kisses. He wakes up with his chest aflame and out of breath, and then it takes all of his willpower not to crawl to her.
It staggering how much he really wants her, and he hates himself for it.
>>> It’s been three weeks and they have barely shared a word. He does his best to cut down their encounters and avoid her, he doesn’t argue and takes no offense, he hopes that if he pulls back just enough she will give up and let him be.
Aemond spends his evenings in the study, his table piled with books, and for a couple of hours, it does help to take his mind off things. The night already steals in while he’s searching through the shelves for scrolls, too caught up in the process to pick up the creaking of his door.
Her gaze nearly scalds him. He only looks up out of surprise — and then he freezes at the spot, his heart a stone that plummets to his stomach.
Out of everything she’s worn, this dress might be the one to bring him to his knees — the cutting out the front so low, his eye falls in the hollow between her breasts; he envies fervently the golden chain that rests there. He takes in her whole body, bare arms, and flaunting forms, all clad in deep dark green. He’s never seen her pick that color (and he can’t help but think she put it on for him).
He’s brought back from his stupor when their eyes meet — and startled by the determination in her gaze.
“Ser Criston told me that you missed your training,” she stately starts walking toward him, “Quite a few times this week.”
“I found myself preoccupied with other things,” he clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back, the scrolls forgotten.
“With reading, I assume?” she almost sounds aggrieved (he wants to ask what else she’d rather have him do) but then her tone gets jaunty. “Would you mind if I join?”
“Actually, I would,” Aemond takes his eye off her, his coldness feigned. “I’d like to avoid distractions.”
And more than anything, he would like for her to leave; she’s not the one to give up so easily. “Maybe we can learn some things together?” she nonchalantly insists, and that ambiguity — deliberate or not — leaves his face suffused with pink.
“I highly doubt you take interest in the things I study,” he manages, his crudeness biting his own tongue.
She only sneers, already nearing his table. “You surely rush to judgment.”
“And I am never wrong.” (Although he’s been wrong once before.)
“That’s very humble of you.” (And she’s tenacious with her intent to prove him wrong again.)
“I am surprised you know that word,” he replies too hastily — and instantly regrets his outburst.
And his attempts to get away from her could’ve been valiant, but only left him feeling like a coward.
She’s got enough courage to spare. “Oh, my apologies, did I strike a nerve?” her hip grazes a stack of books. “You sound so displeased with my behavior,” she puts her hands right on his table, her cleavage in full view.
“You interrupted my studies,” he’s looking only at her face.
“Just this one time,” she clears up, her sly smile is a dare, “Sounds like you have quite a few complaints.”
Damned be her dress and the day he laid his eye on her. “It’s clear as day that we have nothing in common,” he hisses, her persistence molding his anger. “From your bawdy humor to your reckless behavior and your...,” he struggles to push the word through his mouth, “vulgar dresses — everything suggests that we will never make a good couple.”
He catches a gleam in her gaze but it’s not threatening nor hurt — and when the corners of her mouth curl up, her face expression actually looks amused. “I didn’t realize my presence tormented you that much,” she crosses arms over her chest, her hands under her breasts; he looks away that very instant. “So will it please you if I take my vulgar dresses and go back home and leave you be?”
He wants to say it will — he’s thought of it for days — but now he isn’t sure. The dreams he has of her will hardly be enough as every image he collected has got nothing on the real form.
“Is there anything that does?” she asks him suddenly and takes a step in his direction, and then another one.
Belatedly, he realizes that he’s backed against the wall. The air in the room heats up, and Aemond moves back to his table, fingers holding to its edge to find some balance. “...Does what?”
“Please you,” she swiftly clarifies, now standing at arm’s length.
“That isn’t any of your concern,” he wants to glance away and yet, his eye is drawn to her.
“I am inclined to disagree,” her lips stretch into a smile. “Shouldn’t a wife know how to make her husband feel good?”
“We are not married yet,” he tries to argue weakly.
“I’d like to learn beforehand,” but her assertiveness works quicker than his doubts.
The time is still, and seconds drag like hours. His heart leaps at the thought of being all alone with her, his concentration crumbling, his self-restraint already hanging by a thread.
“The way you look at me suggests you aren’t averse to the idea,” she tells him in a low voice, her eyes two glowing embers. Aemond gulps, she deftly rounds the table. “You act so cold and so collected,” she muses, coming closer, and he helplessly steps back. “But I am yet to meet a man who would deny himself the pleasure of laying with a woman,” her voice is warm and warming; his legs bump into the chair, prompting him to sit.
He hesitates for barely a moment but his quick reaction fails him because the next thing he knows, she’s standing next to him, her golden chain casting a blinding glint — he blinks — and then she’s straddling him, her thighs on either side of his.
Aemond’s mouth falls slack as he becomes aware: to lift her he will have to touch her. He glances down at her legs that sneaked out through the long slits of her dress, all bare to the very hips before him.
“I wonder if you are too spoiled by the attention of the ladies? Mayhaps you’ve got so satiated, the intimacy doesn’t bring you any joy,” she runs her fingers up his chest.
He only finds it in himself to shake his head. She isn’t satisfied with that reaction. “Or do you simply find it boring and have a taste for something else?”
Objection bubbles in his throat but he gets no chance to voice it — he barely registers a clinking sound before he feels cold steel pressed under his chin, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of his own dagger. He meant to leave it at the training yard but it completely slipped his mind.
“Does this work better? I’ve heard that you Targaryens have peculiar tastes,” her other hand lands on his shoulder, his chest is stirring with emotions he can’t read.
“That’s not— No,” he mumbles, his voice raw, the weight and feeling of her body overwhelming.
She cocks her brow at him in disbelief. “No? So it’s just plain old satiation then?” she makes no attempt to press the blade but her questions do get pushy. “Must be so hard when women throw themselves at you ever since you were... What was it, ten? Twelve years of age?”
He would expect her to sound teasing — instead, he hears disappointment. That’s the reaction he is used to getting.
“My brother took me to a pleasure house when I was ten-and-three. He said it’s time to get it wet,” he forces out, “And it was...,” awful and humiliating, something he wishes to forget, “...Not what you are describing.”
Her face expression changes — first surprised, then splashed with sadness, and her every feature softens. Aemond sees her opening her mouth to speak but he averts his gaze, abasement scrabbling at him. His eye falls closed, and he keeps thinking that now she will get up and leave, and there won’t be any wedding, and he’s got no reason to get so overly upset already, and —
she sheathes his dagger without a word, the unexpected movement making him breathe out.
And then she dips her head down, and her lips fall on his jaw. Aemond inhales sharply. Her mouth feels softer than it was in all his dreams, and she plants kisses down his throat, moving to the part of it the blade was pressed to. He doesn’t know where to put his hands while hers lock nimbly around his neck.
She pulls back slowly, and he dares to look at her again, trying to catch the merest shadow of pretense but there is none.
“I am truly sorry that you had to go through that,” she tells him quietly. “Have you tried some more since then?”
“I did,” his answer comes off hurried, blank, “I... I am aware of how the act is done.”
“How the act is done? Aemond, that doesn’t sound enjoyable at all,” she pouts, then gently caresses his face, her voice a tender whisper when she adds, “But it should be.”
He stiffens, waiting for the discomfort to wake up, for the aversion to coil his guts, to trigger the jarring need to move away. None of that happens. Instead, he feels her fingers running through his hair, a calming motion bringing only comfort, her every touch relieving tightness in his chest.
“You seem too tense... We have to work on that,” she joyfully murmurs. “Unless, of course, my worry causes you distress,” her fingers stop, “Do you want me to leave, my prince?”
“No,” he rasps, he almost pleads, “D-don’t.”
She hums with satisfaction, bringing her hands down to unclasp his leather doublet, knowing she won’t meet any resistance. He should resent her for this but he doesn’t (he didn’t and he won’t). The air lays cold over his shirt, and Aemond shivers; she moves her fingers down his firm chest with an unspoken admiration.
“Tell me how it usually goes,” she inquires, one of her hands finding its way back to his silver locks. “Do you find pleasure in undressing them?”
Her warmth envelopes him, scented with cinnamon and peaches. “They come without much clothes,” Aemond blurts out, earning another hum from her.
“And what about you?” she glances curiously at him.
“I don’t... I don’t like them touching me,” he timidly avows, and saying it to her does bring somewhat of a relief.
With both of her hands, she cradles his face, thumbs gently contouring his cheeks — he all but melts into her palms. “And yet you are so responsive to the touch,” her voice praises, “So pretty.”
She leans in again, leaving a kiss at the hollow of his throat — and then her mouth travels up, ardent and steady, and he squirms in place. Not out of discomfort.
“You are not supposed to rush it if you want it to feel good,” she whispers in his ear and moves back to catch his gaze. “You never rush into fighting so why love making should be any different?”
Astonishment brightens his face, and she chuckles lightly. “I must confess, I did enjoy watching you train, even though you never noticed. The way you move and twirl your sword,” she’s recollecting breathy, “You are so lithe and fast and so resistant... An infatuating sight.”
She holds his gaze and lifts her hand — he follows it, unblinking, until it finds one of the straps — she hooks it with her fingers. “Fairly soon it made me wonder how would your hands feel... on me,” his heart jolts at her words.
Slowly, she moves the strap aside, baring her breast for him; Aemond’s breathing hitches. She takes his hand in hers, planting a kiss over his knuckles — and then lets his fingers graze her naked skin.
“It was so cruel of you to rob me of my pleasure,” she laments, but he can barely hear a thing, his eye wide as he fixes on the soft swell of her breast, on how her nipple peaks so eagerly under his touch.
She guides his hand over her chest, down to her ribs and waist, letting him brush her every curve, placing his fingers firmly on her hip. And then she reaches for his other hand and lowers the other strap; his body trembles. The layers of his reticence are all peeled at once, leaving his desire raw and undisguised, unshackled. He’s drawn to fondle, clutch at her plump breasts but her grip is tight and taunting, not letting his fingers roam free.
Still, when both his hands sink into her hips, he realizes that he’s getting harder by the second.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by her. With a controlled, torturously slow move she drags her clothed core over his straining cock. His mouth stays closed but there’s a sound — a muffled moan caught in his throat.
“Doesn’t this feel good?” she teases, lightly tugging on his hair, her lips reaching the column of his neck. “With how much you read, I hoped you’d be more generous with words,” each of her kisses weightless like a drop of rain but then her mouth finds a spot below his ear and suckles at it, pulling a whimper from his chest.
He thinks he should... his mind goes blank after another movement of her hips, and she picks up the pace, merciless and sensuous. He tries biting down his moans but only hurts his mouth. She notices, her rapt eyes on him, and puts her finger on his lower lip:
“Please, don’t be shy with me,” she coos, her gentle touch soothing his bitten flesh, “Our desires coincide,” she earnestly affirms him — and the spark erupts and drags him into pure bliss.
He feels that his arousal leaks, his breeches way too tight to hide it, his fingers dig into her supple skin, but she gives no complaints. He watches breathlessly through his hooded eyelid as she grinds against him, then looks over her bouncing breasts, her nipples pebbled, and the pressure curls somewhere down his spine. She peppers him with kisses — the angles of his face, neck, everything that she can reach, except for his desirous mouth. And yet the softness of her lips and hands, her skin that’s draped with the redolent scent, the rhythm of her hips all bring him closer to the edge.
Her forehead is pressed to his, their lips an inch away but never fully touching. “Let go for me,” she says against his mouth, “My handsome, fierce dragon.”
That does it for him. He harshly presses her to him, then shudders with a strangled moan and comes undone, his eye squeezed shut as her name quivers in his mouth. The pleasure whirls him in and leaves him drained and stunned, a little bit light-headed.
It takes Aemond a minute to recover before he finds her gaze again — and in another minute he discerns her shallow breaths, her parted lips, brows slightly furrowed. He wants to ask her if she reached her peak, if he can help her with it —
but she pulls back.
She stands up and only briefly grabs his shoulder, steadying herself, then promptly puts the straps back on, fixing her dress. He wants to lend a hand but she moves it away, leaning in to lightly caress his face. “No, you don’t get to have me yet. I want you to admit it first, to say that you want me,” her words are laced with dignity but cooling to his mind.
She steps back, cruelly fast, the only consolation is her naughty tone. “Until then, I have to satisfy myself some other way. But I will think of you while doing it, my dear prince,” she promises, a ghost of a smile on her lips, and then walks out without looking back.
The silence feels unwelcome in the room and hangs over the ceiling like a cloud, but Aemond he is too dazed to move, spent and perplexed to wrap his head around it.
Desire, it seems, has come to stay.
But it’s not the only thing he’s feeling.
✧... YES, there will be a second part, it’s already in the works!
✧ and yes, I didn’t bother to rename Pedro’s character 'cause I adore Oberyn sue me
✧ just to clarify, I usually age Aemond up to 20 (or however old Ewan looks to you ;)
✧ I got inspired after watching the video for ROSALÍA’s “La Fama” (give it a watch, she is soooo 🥵) but I only found it because of this gorgeous gifset so shout-out to OP for giving me inspiration
✧ my recent fic (couples who kill together, stay together 🔥)
✧ my masterlist
thank you @amiraisgoingthruit for letting me tag you in every silly story of mine, hope you’ll like this one (if anyone else wants to be tagged, don’t be shy)
English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!
#aemond targaryen#I was supposed to post this LAST friday but chickened out for whatever reason idk pls give me a chill pill (((#my stuff#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fic#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond x reader#hotd fic#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#aemond the kinslayer#aemond one eye#aemond one eye x you#aemond one eye x y/n
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Been thinking about this & putting it into practice when writing The Perilous Pear & Plum Pies of Pudwick for a while: thanks to the ever excellent @babblegumsam (who you are probably already following and if not now is your chance to rectify that) for the final straw that made me write this up today. I truly believe if you have any interest in TTRPGs, play, or design you'll get something out of it, it's a further 5.4 mins read from here on out.
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Play is interaction.
Reading is interaction.
Below I will argue the necessity & usefulness of thinking the relationship between reading & play in TTRPGs as (almost) the exact same thing to unlock a wide & deep potential as reader/player/designer.
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Reading & play don't have to be the same thing. But you can't play without reading (in the sense of reading representations, images, ideas, concepts, interactions, etc, not just written text), because then there could be no interaction.
Reading and play can both accurately describe a given act or process. For instance: I read a table or piece of prose in a TTRPG book.
I say this because this is an idea that people struggle with, and while I encourage debate around the concept, we first have to agree on some basic building blocks that I hope I'm able to communicate here. For instance, there exists a potential reality in which tabletop roleplaying games are called tabletop reading games and nothing else about them changes (except for the consequential ability to think of reading in ttrpgs as play, and the potential this tool unlocks), because the prerequisite role for all other roles being played in a role-playing game is that of the reader.
This is true for much more than TTRPGs, but if we simply focus on acknowledging that reading & play in ttrpgs can and often are the same thing, then we are able to make informed design choices on this basis that we otherwise lack the agency to make – and which are nonetheless choices that are being made while we miss the opportunity to observe, read & ultimately interact and/or change and/or play with them.
To not think of the relationship between reading & play in TTRPGs in this way is to limit your agency as a designer, reader, player, and ultimately to cause yourself to be unable to synthesise these roles which are deeply inter-related, perhaps more so than they are disparate.
However you define it, Good Design necessitates the application of the right tool for the job. This requires making, maintaining & improving the tools that you have access to. The reader/player relationship is not only one of these, but an integral one that precedes a great many (if not all) of the other tools that you can & do employ as designer/player/reader.
If you allow this tool to remain blunt and imprecise (and especially if you don't acknowledge that it exists and that you use it in every choice you make), what you are doing is making a choice to blunt all of your other tools, even if you aren't aware of it.
This is poor design, poor play, and poor reading,* and I believe that this is true regardless of how you define each of those terms.
*though of course we could - and I think should - argue over the semantics & limitations of my imprecise use of the word "poor" there and the further ideas it smuggles in unacknowledged, but I trust that you will be able to infer what I'm trying to communicate in my use of it and I further hope that by leaving this imprecise application of a tool here in the way that I have used it, it might serve as a good example of the consequences, limitations & potential dangers of applying tools/terms/ideas that might be best described as "too blunt for the job", which is the very thing I'm attempting to highlight & address here.
It would not seem very sensible to choose to limit yourself in this way unless it allowed you access to new tools, which is a choice that you could only make once you are familiar with the central idea I'm presenting here – in other words, if you break the rules without understanding them you are very unlikely to be taking a step forward and much more likely to just be shuffling in place or even stepping backwards.
I hope that this short interaction has unlocked or reinforced your access to a useful tool that will allow you to sharpen your understanding of the play/reading relationship in TTRPGs and in turn refine & maintain your existing tools and your ability to synthesise new ones.
I look forward to discovering with you what new agencies this allows us to unlock, and I hope you take what you have read here and play with it to design new realities that you & I have yet to imagine.
#reading#play#ttrpg#indie ttrpg#ttrpg design#indie ttrpg design#tabletop roleplaying#games#game design#design theory#theory#design blog#ttrpg blog#ttrpg ideas#ttrpg resources#ttrpg mechanics#ttrpg dev#indie ttrpg dev#rpg design#ttrpgs for everyone#dialectics#communication design#communication theory#design philosophy#ttrpg community#ttrpg family#《 not a fan of that as a tool btw it is incredibly limiting and we could all do without it. why not be more precise & why not start now#any other useful tags you can think to add please do so. i think this deserves to reach far and wide & is very useful if i do say so myself!#Finally: take it and run with it. play/change/sharpen/blunt this tool. it's yours. make it your own (or dont). dont do what i say (or do) 🤡#respect & solidarity and thanks for reading. I hope you have found value in my contribution 🤝
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I’d like to request some siglai kisses from your pinned, idk if I can ask for a combination of two of them? Not in the sense that you write two or double the length ofc, but combine the prompt. I was thinking of 1 (first kiss) and 22 (more than one kiss). Like it’s their first but ends up being more than one? 🥰
Of course!!! Thank you so much for the request!! And I'm so sorry this took so long ><;;; The idea for this came from that really cute siglai amusement park date in the bsd anthology <3 Hope you enjoy~!
1. First Kiss
22. More than One Kiss
Sigma slumped into his seat, grateful to finally have a moment to rest. “Is the day almost over? I want to go back to the casino….”
“Aw, don’t be like that, Sigma! We had so much fun today!” Across from him, Nikolai began to wiggle back and forth, and the metal pod they were sitting in rocked with him. Sigma’s veins began to flutter, fresh anxiety flooding his blood, and he covered his face so he didn’t have to watch the way the world jerked back and forth around them.
The worst part of it was that even if Gogol did break the Ferris wheel, he wouldn’t let Sigma fall to his death. No, he’d rescue them both with his ability, and this nightmare afternoon would just carry on while the theme park crumbled into chaos around them.
“Stop that! You’re going to break the ride!” Ugh, why did Sigma have to say that?
“Ooh, think so?” Nikolai’s voice trembled with excitement, and his knees bumped into Sigma’s as he lurched toward one side to peer down at the mechanics far beneath them. Their ascent was slow, a casual crawl that Sigma had almost been grateful for, but now he realized that such a long ride only gave Nikolai more opportunities to cause mayhem! Why had he agreed to this?
“No breaking the ride!”
“Aw, I’m never allowed to have any fun,” Nikolai lamented, and Sigma peered through his fingers to watch the way Nikolai’s whole body wilted in disappointment. He blinked one big, sad eye at Sigma, and his bottom lip stuck out in the most exaggerated of pouts that almost made Sigma smile.
Almost. His whole body ached, especially his poor feet, and he refused to let this ridiculous clown off the hook just because he was cute.
“You’ve had fun all day,” Sigma reminded, shuddering as he recalled some of the horrifying rides that he’d been dragged onto. He’d never been to a theme park before, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he ever wanted to come back after today’s exhausting experience. “Besides, wasn’t this thing your idea? Why would you want to break it!?”
“All you’ve done is complain that I’ve made you fear for your life today—”
“I wouldn’t complain if you stopped making me fear for my life!”
“—so I picked the most ordinary ride at the theme park! Aren’t I so generous? Oh, but it’s so sad! This ride is as boring as you are!” Nikolai slumped over the side of the cart, arms dangling down toward a ground that inched further and further away with every passing second.
If only Nikolai would tumble head-over-heels out of the ride. Then maybe, Sigma would be able to have a true moment of peace.
… Who was he kidding? If Nikolai fell out of the cart, Sigma would probably try to catch him while Nikolai laughed hysterically. Not worth the trouble.
“If it’s boring you that much, you’re welcome to leave, and we can meet up again after the ride is over.”
Nikolai threw himself back in his seat, absolutely scandalized. The compartment wobbled again. “Sigma, I can’t let you ride the Ferris wheel all by yourself! That’s just too sad! No, you stuck by me all day, so I’ll endure the slowest ride in existence just for you!”
“Again, this ride was your idea!” Sigma crossed his arms and huffed, which only made Nikolai snicker. “I’d like to also remind you that you kidnapped me from my office! I didn’t have a choice but to stick by you all day!”
Nikolai merely grinned, and Sigma sighed in defeat. Somebody as ordinary as him would never be able to win against Nikolai, so why even bother trying? He might as well sit back and enjoy the view.
And the view was nice. The world beyond the park looked dark and unwelcoming, but a sea of cheerful, rainbow color separated them from reality. The higher the ride took them, the smaller the park appeared until only the carts on the looping roller-coasters looked close enough to touch.
So far up, Sigma could barely hear the jingle of carnival games, the pop of balloons, the clamor of children. The brisk air on his cheeks felt nice, relaxing, and he let himself enjoy this quiet moment with his unlikely companion.
Nikolai stared at him, his expression stranger than usual. He wore a smile, but this one seemed soft and out of place when Sigma was so used to his vicious, scheming grins. Nikolai’s eye twinkled in the starlight, his hair fluttering like feathers against his cheeks, and a part of Sigma wanted to reach out to touch him. To see if this was real, if Nikolai still sat across from him or if he’d been left with nothing but a worthy mirage.
Nikolai dispelled the illusion himself as he shuffled forward, his voice teeming with excitement as he whispered, “Hey, Sigma? Quiz time!”
Sigma rolled his eyes but found that he couldn’t even muster the energy to be annoyed. “What is it this time?”
“Did you know that if two people kiss when they get to the top of the Ferris wheel, then their relationship will last forever?!”
Sigma could have asked why Nikolai bothered to tell him this. He could have pointed out that they weren’t in a relationship, so this information didn’t really pertain to them. He could have reminded Nikolai that even if they were together, forever for them likely wouldn’t be that much longer, anyway.
Instead, Sigma said, “I’ve never been kissed before.”
Nikolai wiggled to the edge of his seat, so close now that their knees bumped. “Not even a little bit?”
“Not even a little—what does that even mean?!”
“Well, I’d hate for you to miss out on the opportunity to have such a memorable and romantic first kiss! Very well, Sigma! I will make the sacrifice—”
“Sacrifice?”
“—and offer you my services just this once!” Nikolai scooted even closer, his knee nudging its way between Sigma’s so that he could invade even more of his space. One hand pressed against the metal wall behind him, and soon, all that Sigma could see was Nikolai. “Well? Better decide quickly, Sigma! We’re almost at the top!”
Sigma swallowed, his heart rattling with uncertainty. Did he really want his first kiss like this? At the top of a Ferris wheel after a long, exhausting day? With Nikolai, of all people? Sigma really couldn’t say for sure.
… But if not now, then when?
“Okay.”
Glee flashed through Nikolai’s left eye, and he tilted his head to gently nudge Sigma’s nose with his own. That was the only warning Sigma got before Nikolai’s lips found his, firm and deliberate as he claimed Sigma’s first kiss for himself. A tiny sound of surprise lodged itself in Sigma’s throat, and he barely had time to respond before Nikolai had leaned away again.
“Well~?” Nikolai teased, still close enough for Sigma to taste cotton candy on his breath. “How was your first kiss?”
… Sweet. Surprisingly sweet. Sigma had figured that a kiss with Nikolai would be sharp, unpredictable, difficult to follow. Not soft, not fleeting, and certainly not something that Sigma would want to do again.
And yet….
Sigma reached forward to grip Nikolai’s side with tentative fingers. “Well, we… we haven’t reached the top yet… have we?”
With a chuckle, Nikolai bumped their noses again. “Aw, Sigma! If you want another kiss, all you have to do is ask!”
“Fine, then I want another—mph!”
Nikolai’s mouth returned, firmer this time, and he didn’t pull away as quickly. He drew Sigma closer for one, two, three more kisses until Sigma’s mind felt too dizzy to keep count anymore. Nikolai’s kisses were heady and addictive, and he decidedly didn’t hate the playful bites as much as he’d expected.
Only after a long, long time did Sigma realize that something was wrong. He put both hands on Nikolai’s broad shoulders and pushed until Nikolai, grumbling, pulled away. Sigma tried to catch his breath as he looked over the side of the cart, but the sight of the ever-distant world only made his heart race.
“Nikolai. We’re not moving.”
“Ding ding! You’re right!” Nikolai confirmed with a brilliant smile. “We haven’t been moving for a while now, but you didn’t even notice! You’re so predictably unobservant!”
“Why aren’t we moving?! Are we stuck?” Sigma tried to wave to somebody, to signal that they needed help, but could the attendants even see him from so far away?
“I’m sure it’s because the control panel is missing some of its parts. Namely these!” With an exaggerated flourish, Nikolai produced several red buttons and a lever that he’d kept hidden in his coat.
“You… you broke the… why!?” Sigma yelled as panic began to rise in his chest.
“Because you seemed to enjoy kissing so much! Aren’t I just the most thoughtful person ever?” Nikolai’s grin turned feral, and his wild laughter filled the tiny compartment, so loud that even the people on the ground must have heard him. He kicked his silly little feet, so stupidly delighted by his own antics, and he might have looked cute if this whole situation wasn’t so insane.
Sigma wanted to be angry, but he just sighed as he slumped back in his seat. Of course, he should have suspected something like this when he agreed to indulge Nikolai’s whims, but did the clown really have to break the Ferris wheel controls? And did he have to be so damn cute about it?
“Give them the parts back now, Nikolai!”
“Eh, what’s the point in that? I’m sure the park authorities already have somebody on the case! You wouldn’t want to get in the way of someone doing their job, would you, Sigma?” Nikolai blinked at him with one wide, serious eye, and Sigma felt himself deflating further. He knew it was just a tactic, but Nikolai was probably right. They’d already inconvenienced these poor theme park employees enough, so they might as well wait until the technicians fixed the ride normally.
Besides, Sigma really didn’t want to explain how and more importantly why Nikolai broke the control panel right when they were at the top of the Ferris wheel. Just the thought of such a humiliating conversation made Sigma’s skin crawl.
With yet another defeated sigh, Sigma gazed out into the distance. At least the weather was nice, and they had a good view of the fireworks display going off on the other side of the park. Bright bursts of color filled the night sky, yellows and blues and pinks still lingering long after their radiant fires had died. If not for the fact that Nikolai had broken the Ferris wheel just to trap them here, Sigma might have mistaken this moment as something romantic.
“So what do you want to do, then? Who knows how long we’ll be stuck up here.”
A gloved hand captured his chin, angling his attention away from the lights and back toward the grinning man sitting across from him. Nikolai’s eye shone with fireworks, wild and dangerous and unmistakably beautiful.
“Aw, don’t worry, Sigma!” he promised in a whisper that still tasted of cotton candy. “I have a few ideas~”
#bsd#siglai#sigolai#bsd sigma#bsd nikolai gogol#bungou stray dogs#fluff#nikolai's such a menace but we love him for it <3
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Hope I’m not bothering you with all my requests but your writing is incredible! (*^^*)♡
Maybe some endgame SteddyHands x Reader where Ed and Stede are together and Izzy and Reader are together and they go on a double date (Stede’s idea) and all have a really good time. But afterwards whenever it’s not all four of them together it feels like someone’s missing. Shenanigans ensue. Ed and Stede probably decide to invite you and izzy on more double dates and Izzy is probably worrying that you are realizing you want better than him and Reader is just confused and concerned.
Maybe eventually Lucius tells them all that “if all of you would rather go on double dates and spend time with all four of you, why don’t you all just dare each other?” And the Ed, Stede, Izzy, and Y/N all realize “ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ how did we not think of that?”
Just All Date Each Other Already!
“Why did you agree to this?” Izzy grumbled as he ran his fingers through his hair, evenly spreading the pomade throughout it. He didn’t even know why he was stressing so much about this, it was ridiculous.
“Because they were doing that thing where they act like you have a choice but you actually don’t,” you reminded him, fixing the fastenings of your shirt.
“All the more reason to decline,” he continued to complain as he wiped the excess from his hands.
“They’re our captains and our friends, it’s a double date. It won’t kill us,” you rolled your eyes fondly. Really, you wouldn’t think spending a dinner with one of his oldest friends wouldn’t be such a cause of stress for him.
“Barely been on a normal date, nevermind a double date. What even the fuck is that?”
Finishing up with the cuffs of your shirt, you walked up to him. You gently took hold of his waist, turning him to face you before soothingly running your hands up and down his sides. “I have taken you on plenty of dates, thank you very much. A double date is just two couples spending some time together,” you told him, though you were sure he could figure that out. “It’ll be fine, love.”
You made a bit of a show of flattening his collar and centering the knot of his tie even if it was already pretty perfect. “There you go. You look perfect,” you kissed the tip of his nose playfully just to make his cheeks flush pink.
“Let’s get this over with.” That was as enthusiastic as Izzy was going to get about this, but you could work with that.
“Iz, sweetie, relax. It’s just dinner. You and Ed can hang out like old times and I’ll make sure Stede isn’t too overbearing,” you assured him, giving his shoulders a little squeeze.
“Alright,” Izzy sighed before looking you once over.
You had dressed up a little, throwing on some nicer looking clothes that you own. Nothing fancy, just not the sort of clothes you would scrub the deck wearing. Izzy didn’t have any ‘nice clothes’, but he forwent his vest in an attempt to feel more…approachable.
“We’ve got this,” you shot him a wink before taking his hand and leading him out of the little cabin you shared.
At least you didn’t run into any of the other crew members on your way to the captain’s cabin, that would only put Izzy more on edge. Once you reached the door, you gave Izzy’s hand a reassuring and grounding squeeze.“I love you,” Izzy said under his breath, staring at the door. The poor man sounded like he was being led to the gallows.
“We’re not dying, Iz,” you laughed. “But I love you too,” you gave him a quick kiss, just for a little added confidence, before knocking on the door.
Stede flung the door open and greeted you both with a bright smile. “Right on time!” he praised, pleased with the timeliness. “Welcome, come on in, make yourselves comfortable.”
When Stede stepped to the side, you and Izzy walked into the cabin. Edward beamed at you both from a cabinet where he was selecting a bottle of something suitably aged to have over dinner.
“I know you’re going to ask for rum, Iz, but please just give this wine a chance,” Edward spoke up before Izzy could even open his mouth.
“I’ve had wine before, Edward,” Izzy scoffed. Sure, probably not whatever wine Stede Bonnet collected, but he knew what wine tasted like.
“But not this wine,” Edward waved a bottle in front of him.
“I’m sure we’re going to love it,” you smiled, giving Izzy’s hand another small squeeze.
You herded Izzy over to the dining table. “Sit at any of the placements you like. Roach is particularly proud of this spread,” Stede told you both.
You and Izzy chose two seats beside each other. You didn’t know if it was customary for partners to sit beside or opposite each other, but you weren’t about to leave Izzy’s side when he was already anxious either way.
Edward strode over to the table and filled four glasses with red wine, before he took his seat opposite Izzy. Stede was quick to sit by Ed’s side, opposite you.
The four of you filled your plates with Roach’s food, adding certain elements whenever Stede recommended something.
“So, Izzy,” Stede spoke with an air of casualness, even if his attempt at casual conversation came off as a little awkward.
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you ate, suspenseful to see how Stede was going to communicate with the first mate. They had been getting along better, not at each other’s throats all the time, but still very rarely interacted one-on-one. At least you and Edward were there to mediate if anything went wrong.
“How is the crew?” Stede asked.
Good idea, you thought, talk about something neutral. When you glanced over at Edward to see his reaction, he appeared to be thinking the same thing.
“Not bad, not going to get themselves killed while we have dinner,” Izzy shrugged, speaking like he wasn’t sure how to converse with the other man.
“C’mon, Iz. Gotta be more to say than that,” Edward prompted, raising an eyebrow at him.
“The sword fighting lessons have been going really well, tell them about that, love,” you suggested, smiling in a way to let Izzy know that you had him, that you were here for him.
“The crew are doing…fine. I suppose they’re not as useless as they once were. Feeny and Pete are taking to swordsmanship fairly well. Frenchie isn’t so good with a sword but his footwork is impressive,” Izzy reported.
“And the Swede is getting really good with the knots,” you added, sounding proud that Izzy had taught them such things. Proud to have Izzy as your partner.
“He’s…made little songs to remind him how to tie different knots,” Izzy sighed, his nose scrunching up at the memory of sitting through the Swede explaining each of the songs.
“It’s sweet.” You couldn’t help but feel a little fond as whenever you passed the strange man singing his little songs and tying his knots.
“It’s ridiculous,” Izzy corrected.
“Well, it sounds rather effective,” Stede grinned, “I’m glad you’re all getting along.”
“Izzy is a good teacher when he wants to be,” Edward told Stede, shooting Izzy a playful wink.
“When people listen,” Izzy muttered before helping himself to another forkfull.
“And that is why Jack still doesn’t know which start is which,” Edward agreed, sounding fond and amused.
“The fucker can barely find Polaris. Would be able to if he listened to anything that wasn’t a crude joke,” Izzy smirked, amusement in his eyes, while Edward laughed.
Stede took a sip of his wine before nervously swirling the liquid around in the glass. “Well, I was wondering, Izzy…if you could give me some lessons with a sword. I’ve improved some but I’m not nearly as good as you or Edward,” Stede asked before quickly adding, “I promise to listen.”
Izzy eyed him for a moment, like he was trying to figure out if Stede was being serious about lessons, if he was worth the time. Izzy must have decided he was serious, because he agreed. “Suppose I could, yeah.”
“Told you he’d do it!” Edward placed a hand on Stede’s knee, giving it an excited shake. “And we’ll come and cheer you both on, right?” he looked across to you.
“Obviously,” you smiled back at him. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you knocked your shoulder against Izzy’s, he rolled his eyes but still smiled to himself.
After the promise of lessons, the conversation lulled. Falling awkward for a moment, a nervous energy buzzing over the four of you.
“Oh!” Stede perked up, thinking up a topic for conversation. “You won’t believe the conversation we had with the tailor at the last port…”
Stede’s story about the tailor was…mundane at best, but you felt somewhat fond while listening to him and his passion about how the tailor dared to suggest the mix of certain fabrics. You even caught Izzy listening to the tale, the corner of his mouth quirking up every now and again, likely at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.
Occasionally Edward would jump in with something along the lines of “can you fucking believe that!” or “it was fucking diabolical!” which was all very entertaining and rather sweet.
You and Izzy remained in the captain’s cabin long after dinner was finished, which wasn’t the plan but wasn’t unpleasant by any means. Apparently the two of you decided that it would simply be rude to leave without finishing the bottle of wine…and the second one.
The wine helped the four of you loosen up, tension about the strange situation fading and any nerves long forgotten. Stories flew from each of you, the others listening intently. Jokes were shared and laughter echoed, the company feeling surprisingly easy.
At the end of the evening, you and Izzy had your arms linked together as you headed for the door.
“This was a wonderful evening!” Stede exclaimed, his voice loud with drink but endearing nonetheless, as he walked you both to the door. “We’ll have to do it again.”
‘Course we will, love,” Edward agreed warmly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“And we shall see you both tomorrow,” Stede moved with far too much familiarity but you found that you didn’t really mind when he stepped forward and took you by the arms.
You spluttered a little when he kissed both of your cheeks, still smiling wide as he pulled away, but laughed it off. Izzy’s face was bright red as he received his cheek kisses, and you had to hold back a startled giggle.
“Alright, mate, come on,” Edward laughed, pulling Stede away.
“Goodnight, darlings!” Stede waved but was already walking over to the dining table. “Edward, come help me clean up!”
“He doesn’t drink a lot and wine is particularly…effective on him,” Edward explained, nothing but love and adoration in his eyes.
“It’s fine,” you assured him as you lent into Izzy’s side, feeling him tighten his hold on your arm.
“Edward!” Stede called from the table, making you laugh.
“Night, guys,” Edward grinned, glancing over his shoulder to check on Stede, who was stacking plates.
“Night, Ed,” you smiled and Izzy gave him a nod before the two of you left.
You and Izzy returned arm in arm to your shared cabin.
“Tonight was actually kinda fun,” you reflected as you closed the door behind you.
“Yeah…it actually was,” Izzy agreed, clearly surprised that he shared your sentiment.
But Izzy didn’t have much time to think about that because you were alright in front of him, already working him out of his shirt as you brought him into a sweet kiss.
Back in the captain’s cabin, the two men had tidied the table somewhat before slipping into their comfy bed.
“Tonight was lovely, Ed,” Steded murmured into Edward’s neck, happily curled up around him.
“It was fun. I think even Izzy enjoyed himself,” Edward mused fondly, tracing little shapes against’s Stede’s arm. It really had been too long since he and Izzy spent some time together and it was nice to see Izzy happy with somebody who treated him well, you were clearly very good for his friend.
“We really should do it again.”
“I’d like that,” Edward smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of Stede’s head.
-
Apparently that double dinner date had awoken something between the four of you. Relationships between Izzy and the crew had been improving for a while now and, while he didn’t seek out Stede’s company, he didn’t complain so much about the co-captain’s presence. The new development was that the four of you were putting much more effort into spending time together than you usually would.
Stede had stayed committed to his lessons with Izzy, never missing a lesson and always putting his full effort into it. He really was improving as well. His dedication and improvements were doing the job of gaining Izzy’s respect, and perhaps even some fondness. As the two men sparred back and forth, you and Edward would cheer them on from the sidelines and throw in advice for Stede. Edward would throw an arm around your shoulders when he got over excited, shaking you as he cheered on one of the men.
Edward had been randomly finding you when you were up on the deck, teaching you little tips and tricks about how to predict the weather. You were learning how to read the clouds and pay more attention to the temperature changes, but you knew you would never develop the sixth sense that Edward seemed to possess. Still, you enjoyed those little moments together.
Edward and Izzy would spend some evenings sitting up in the crows nest, just like they used to when they were deckhands on the same ship. Talking in a way they hadn’t in years.
After sharing your routine morning coffee with Izzy, when Izzy had left to round up the rest of the crew, Stede would come and speak with you. Never about anything important, just like he wanted to spend some time in your company, and you didn’t mind in the slightest.
Spending time together were highlights of your days but nothing quite compared to when all four of you found yourselves together. When the four of you got together for something it just felt like something was clicking into place.
The four of you were getting along better than ever, finding yourself seeking each other out just for the sake of it. You enjoyed each other’s company, found it easy to be around each other, enjoying learning more about each other, and growing fonder of each other as the days passed.
However, this new closeness had caused a few…crises.
Stede loves Edward, he had never known love like this, he didn’t even think it existed. Only weeks ago Stede would have easily and proudly exclaimed that Edward was his entire world. And yet, he found himself longing after the company of two others. He loved Edward dearly, every part of him, Edward was more than he could ever ask for. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the time he and Edward spent together but he found that he enjoyed that time as much as he enjoyed his time with you or Izzy, and when he considered it to be the best was when all four of you were together. Everything just felt so…right. Was he truly so greedy and so selfish that he needed to have you and Izzy as well? Oh god, what would Edward think if he knew?
Edward had been beating himself up as well, finding himself curled up in an empty bathtub more often than usual. He loved Stede, had from the very start and never questioned it since. But he loved Izzy too. He and Izzy had such a history and over time the connection they shared had become tangled and twisted into something unrecognisable. But he did love Izzy, had for a long time, just assumed it was a different kind of love to what he shared with Stede. Plus, he was with Stede and Izzy was with you. The two of them were happy and things were finally going well for them both, so why did something feel wrong? Then there was you, he could so easily see what drew Izzy towards you. Your kindness and sincerity, your patience and open adoration for the people you love and care about. Edward had always liked you but spending more time with you had been eye opening. He was Blackbeard, he should be able to have everything he wanted and more, but he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting Stede, of hurting any of you.
Despite the worries of the captains, they didn’t talk about it, but they did decide to invite you and Izzy on more double dates. Dinner and drinks in their cabin, stargazing on the quarterdeck, nature walks when the ship was anchored near land.
-
For the most recent, totally normal, just between friends, double date, the four of you were in the captain’s cabin again. Stede really loved going ashore and doing something exciting with the three of you but the privacy of the cabin was second best.
The four of you were sitting around the lit fire, the cabin warm and cosy. Edward was lounging on the couch, stretching his bad leg out over Stede’s lap. Izzy was sitting in one of the arm chairs, surprisingly relaxed, while you had made yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs. Sitting on a pillow with your head resting against the inside of his knee.
You laughed at one of Edward’s stories, turning your face into Izzy’s knee to muffle the sound.
“Oh! Before I forget, I picked something up for you when we were last at port,” Stede announced excitedly, placing his drink down.
“Me?” you asked, eyes widening as you lifted your head from Izzy’s knee.
“Yes, it’s nothing too special. I just saw it and it looked to be your size and I just thought about how well it would suit you!” Edward smiled as he moved his leg, letting Stede stand from the couch. “I’ll go fetch it!” and with that, Stede disappeared into his secret wardrobe.
You looked to Edward for some sort of explanation as Izzy sat up straighter behind you. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t too expensive,” Edward assured you, seeing the slight panic on both of your faces. “I agree with him though, think it will look fantastic on you.”
You couldn’t help but blush a little at the way Edward smiled at you. Admittedly, you could see why people gravitated towards him.
Behind you, Izzy frowned to himself. Stede was getting you gifts and Edward was complimenting you…something about this felt…wrong to him.
Stede soon returned with a silky looking white shirt on a hanger, holding it up proudly. “It’s alright if you don’t like it,” Stede quickly backtracked when you just stared at him, looking a little embarrassed.
You stood, Izzy offering you a hand, before approaching Stede. He kept hold of the hanger while you rubbed the material between your fingers. If you accepted the gift, it would definitely be the softest thing you owned.
You just didn’t understand why Stede would buy anything for you. “It’s beautiful, but you really didn’t need to-”
“I know that,” Stede tutted, “I just wanted too.”
“You should try it on,” Edward suggested and Stede nodded in agreement, while Izzy shifted in his seat.
“Alright,” you nodded and took the shirt . Stede gestured for you to go into the wardrobe for some privacy.
You disappeared into the closet, taking a quick look at Stede’s variety of clothes and the garments Edward had collected since being with Stede.
Izzy watched you slip out of the room, a little frown still on his face. “What do you think, Iz?” Edward asked, getting his attention.
“It’s nice,” Izzy shrugged. It was a nice shirt…
“This is all pretty nice, isn’t it? The four of us hanging out.” It sounded like Edward was trying to get at something, but Izzy wasn’t quite sure what. Izzy glanced at Stede for some sort of insight, but he just looked like he was waiting for some sort of approval.
“Yeah…suppose it is,” Izzy agreed.
“We picked something up for you, as well,” Edward grinned, stretching out his bad leg before standing from the couch. Izzy watched, silent and confused, as Edward wandered over to the desk, pulling something out of a drawer. “I know you take care of your stuff so your knife is in perfect condition but it’s old and you deserve something new,” Edward brought the new dagger over to where Izzy was sitting.
“I had my eye on something else but Ed said it was more decorative than practical and I know you love practicality,” Stede confessed.
“What do you think, Iz?” Edward asked as he handed over the blade.
Izzy examined the blade, turning it around and testing the weight in his hand. It was a fine blade, thin and sharp. Deadly. The handle fit in his hand like it was made for him. It must have cost a pretty penny.
“It’s…it’s good. Uh…thank you,” Izzy could feel how warm his face had turned as he looked up to Edward.
“You’re welcome, mate,” Edward grinned, pleased with himself.
Thankfully, the attention was taken off of Izzy when you walked back into the room. You were wearing your new shirt, tucked into the waistband of your pants. They had been right, it was perfect on you. It billowed and clung to all the right places, the collar fastened with laces, letting you choose how tight or loose you wanted to tie it. Right now you had it tied loosely, casually.
“So, what do you think?” you asked, uncomfortable with the silence you were met with.
“Beautiful!” Stede complimented brightly, instantly blushing at his own praise. You blushed as well at the earnesty.
“It suits you,” Izzy really meant it but he still felt like he was beat to the chance to make you blush and smile like that.
“Thanks, love,” you still smiled brighter at his compliment and that helped put him at ease a little.
You returned to your sea between Izzy’s legs, flashing him another smile before making yourself comfortable. The captains poured more drinks and returned to their seats on the couch. Everything went back to normal but Izzy found himself unable to listen to the rest of the conversation.
Izzy had given you things before, but they were practical items. A new knife since yours had been a rusty old thing, a new pair of boots when yours got wrecked. He never got you something so fine just for the sake of it.
What if that was what you wanted? What if you wanted what the captains could offer, what if you thought they were better for you than him?
-
Things had definitely been a little…weird. The captains have been particularly friendly lately. Of course, you didn’t mind, you loved spending time with them and the more time you spent together the more you enjoyed it. You just weren’t sure what brought on the change.
Izzy seemed to have been enjoying your little get togethers as well, until recently. He was worrying about something but you couldn’t tell what it was and he wouldn’t tell you. You knew he would when he was ready, so you would just offer him support in the meantime.
You cared for Edward and Stede deeply, more than you originally thought you did, but your priority right now was making sure Izzy was alright.
Things had come to their climax, the tension no longer letting you ignore it. Izzy was avoiding Edward and Stede completely and being distant with you, you just refused to let him push you away completely. Edward was keeping his distance from you and Izzy, sticking extra close to Stede and it was like Stede was going out of his way to ensure nothing he did could be interpreted as anything but platonic.
It was all very strange and you hated it. You hated that something was on Izzy’s mind and he felt like he couldn’t talk to you about it, you hated that two of your closest friends were acting so distant. You wanted to know what was bothering Izzy but he refused to talk about it, you couldn’t ask Edward if he knew anything because he would practically run away from you whenever you tried.
Something was wrong with each of the men you cared about but you just couldn’t figure it out at all. You wanted to make things right, you just didn’t know how.
-
By midday you felt like banging your head against the mast until something broke. Izzy was being all sulky, Edward weirdly flighty, and Stede uncharacteristically untalkative.
“Why do you look so sad?” Lucius asked, coming up to your side.
“Do you ever feel like something is going on with the people around you but you don’t know what and nobody will tell you what it is?” you asked, folding your arms on the ship’s railing.
“Sometimes, and then we talk about it and solve the problem,” Lucius nodded, obviously with some judgement in his voice.
“Genius,” you muttered. You knew he was right, the four of you should talk about it, but that would be so much easier to do if they would actually talk to you about it!
“You’re talking about Izzy and the captain’s right?” Lucius asked knowingly.
“Yep. You noticed how weird they’ve all been acting too?” you knew you couldn’t be the only one who thought something was wrong, you weren’t going crazy.
“Yes, I’ve noticed you idiots all being idiots,” Lucius rolled his eyes with a certain fondness.
You groaned, dropping your forehead down to your folded arms. “Rude.”
“If it makes you feel better, you’re not the biggest idiot out of all of them,” he reassured you, patting your back.
“Thanks, Luce,” you murmured into your arms. “I don’t know what happened. The four of us were getting along so well. It was great, y’know? But now it’s like nobody can stand to talk to each other for too long. I’ve asked Izzy about what’s going on but he always brushes it off like it’s nothing, when something is clearly wrong,” you lifted your head just enough to make sure Lucius could hear you clearly.
“I think I know what’s going on here,” Lucius sighed, sounding exasperated with you all.
“What?” you pushed yourself up from the railing and turned to him properly. You just wanted to fix things, and if Lucius had some insight you were willing to hear him out.
“I’m going to help you, mostly because the four of you sulking about it is really killing the mood.” You just rolled your eyes at him, knowing he cared really. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have even asked what was wrong. “But you’ll owe me big time for this, all of you will,” he warned.
“Yeah, whatever, just please help me out, Lucius,” you didn’t think Lucius would ask much from you for his help. Probably just ask you to cover some chores for him.
“Grab your angry little man and meet me in the captain’s cabin,” he ordered, clearly already having some sort of plan ready.
“When?” you asked, unsure whether prep time would be helpful for Izzy or if it would only give him time to grow more anxious about the whole thing.
“Now. I’ll round up the captains.”
“...you really think this will work?”
“I really do,” Lucius sounded more like he was talking to himself than to you, but you decided to just go along with it.
You thanked him quickly before running off. You had no idea what he was planning but he had a plan and you didn’t, so you might as well give it a shot.
Izzy was definitely reluctant when you told him to follow you to the captain’s cabin, that you wanted to finally talk about whatever has been going on recently. He was even more reluctant when you mentioned that Lucius would also be there, but you didn’t want to surprise him with that. Thankfully, Izzy trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t allow anything to harm him or put him in an overly uncomfortable situation. So, he let you lead him by the hand to their cabin.
You knocked on the door and Lucius opened it. “Sit down,” he ordered immediately, stepping aside to let you both in.
You just nodded and entered the room, seeing that Edward and Stede were already sitting on the couch, looking a little like scolded children. You and Izzy moved towards the armchairs but were quickly stopped.
“Nope. On the couch,” Lucius corrected.
“Bit of a tight fit, Luce,” you pointed out, but he probably already knew that.
“Don’t care. Sit,” Lucius cocked an eyebrow, arms folded over his chest sternly.
You shared a look with Izzy before joining the captains on the couch. Edward and Izzy were on the outsides, pressed against the arms of the couch, while you and Stede were squeezed between them.
“Lucius, what is this?” Stede questioned, sounding just as confused as Edward looked.
“Couples therapy,” Lucius huffed, as if it were obvious. You all just frowned at him. It was not obvious. “The four of you couldn’t be more obvious. You’re all in love with each other,” Lucius never had been a fan of unneeded subtly when it came to this kind of thing, he liked a straight forward response. Even still, that was blunt for him.
Lucius thought it would be best to be blunt and smooth things over afterwards than try to get you four idiots to figure it out by yourselves. He didn’t have all day.
“Lucius!” Stede eyes widened at the scribe, as if scandalised.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, boy,” Edward scoffed but pointedly wouldn’t look at him.
“Seriously, this is your idea of helping?” you glared at him. Sure, you had accepted his help, but this wasn’t what you had imagined.
Izzy was surprisingly quiet beside you, just staring down at his lap. You didn’t think that was a good sign.
“Shut up. The four of you, just listen,” Lucius tutted. “You’ve all been spending a lot of time together, right?” he asked. Figuring that you still weren’t allowed to talk, the four of you nodded. “And you enjoy spending time together?” You all nodded again. “And most of all you enjoy spending time as all four of you?” More nods, although they were more hesitant this time.
“Then maybe all four of you should just…be together,” Lucius suggested as if it was the most obvious solution in the world.
“Lucius-” you began to interrupt, this was a pretty heavy topic to just drop on everyone.
“Nope, still talking,” Lucius thoroughly chastised you. “Relationships don’t just have to be two people, and that’s perfectly okay,” he reminded the four of you.
When he didn’t speak for a moment, Stede figured he was allowed to talk again. “Lucius, I appreciate this and you know we all have nothing but respect for you and your relationships but…I don’t think that would be something I’m comfortable with.”
Lucius considered him without judgement before nodding. “You wouldn’t be comfortable with Ed just sleeping with anyone, right?” he asked, still no judgement.
“Of course not!”
“I wouldn’t fucking do that!” Edward defended himself, clearly offended by the mere suggestion.
“It wasn’t an accusation,” Lucius reassured him. “So, you aren’t interested in an open relationship like Pete and I have. You need security. That’s fine, that’s not the only option.”
This was his nightmare, Izzy realised as the conversation sounded so far away. Lucius was suggesting that you be with somebody else (even if it was in addition to him). You would see that being with somebody else is better and would leave him behind.
As if sensing his spiralling, you gently took his hand in yours, just holding it as Lucius continued. It helped bring Izzy back into the cabin, into his body.
“The four of you could have a closed relationship. Just the four of you, all of you in a relationship with each other. Exclusivity between the four of you,” Lucius explained, “just like what you're already doing but with less pining.”
Edward hummed to himself, a little ‘huh’ sound. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t already thought of this, but even if he had, would he have suggested it to Stede? He looked at Stede to see how he was reacting to the idea. Much to his delight, Stede looked interested, hopeful even.
Stede looked at Edward, perhaps to judge his reaction as well, and the two of them shared a silent communication. This was something they both wanted and they knew just by looking at each other. It would be new, especially for Stede, but it could be such a good thing.
Clearly making his decision, Edward broke out into a bright smile.
“Well, uh, thank you for your…input, Lucius. I think the four of us need to talk about this…alone,” Stede gave him a tight smile, wringing his hands in his lap.
“Hint taken,” Lucius nodded. “Come find me if you need any help…try to avoid it if necessary,” he escaped from the room promptly, probably to tell Pete everything, closing the door behind him.
“Well, this solves everything!” Edward stood up, clapping his hands together, staring brightly at the three of you. He looked almost proud of himself, as if it had been his idea. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of it first,” he admitted.
Izzy was looking at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open, unable to do anything more.
“Darling, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Stede stood and pulled Edward to the side, hoping to calm him down a little before he overwhelmed you or Izzy.
As soon as you were offered any sense of privacy, you turned to Izzy. “Are you alright?” Izzy could quite easily become overwhelmed, especially when it came to anything involving feelings, and your first instinct was to check in on him.
Izzy convinced himself to meet your gaze, you deserved that at least. “Do you want to be with them?” he asked.
“I want to be with you,” you promised him without hesitation, already knowing where his mind was probably going. “I…I do like Ed and Stede, and I know you do too. I’m willing to give this a try if that’s something you want, but I promise you, Iz, I am not leaving you for them. I love you.” You knew that honesty was the only way to talk about this properly, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t get the wrong idea. You were with him, no matter what he wanted.
“But…what if you end up liking them more?” Izzy’s question just broke your heart, he sounded so small, but at the same time you were so proud of him for allowing himself to be so vulnerable.
“That’s never going to happen, it’s not possible. Even if I love them, I will always love you just as much, that will never change,” you kept one hand around his, bringing your other hand up to his cheek, hoping to ease the tension between his brows. “I know you love Ed, have for a long time, and I know you’ve been growing fond of Stede. That doesn’t mean you love me any less does it?” you asked and Izzy frantically shook his head. “I’m here no matter what you decide, I love you.”
Izzy would never understand how you were so good at this, at handling him and reassuring him. “I love you too,” even after all this time, he always said those words with the same devotion as he did the first time.
You smiled and lent in to give him a chaste kiss, just to make sure he got the point.
To the side of you both, somebody cleared their throat. You pulled away from Izzy, dropping your hand from his cheek, as you both turned to look at the captains. They were watching you both fondly.
“I, uh…that was a lot. Is everyone…are you alright to speak about this?” Stede asked. He really did feel like he was getting good at the whole ‘communicating thing’.
You looked back at Izzy, letting him decide whether he wanted to talk now or if he needed some time. He nodded and you looked at the captains again. “Yeah, we want to talk about it.”
Izzy’s hand never once left yours, even when Edward took hold of his other hand, even when Stede pressed kisses to each of your knuckles.
The four of you were up until the early hours of the morning, fueled by coffee and unspoken feelings, talking about feelings new and old. Considering how a relationship between the four of you might look, how the four of you might navigate it.
Stede had suggested a ‘proper courting period’, and then gone on to explain what that might consist of.
Things would stay mostly the same but the four of you would be courting each other, knowing that the intentions are romantic in nature. You would take things slow, make sure everyone was comfortable and let things progress naturally. You wouldn’t rush or force anything. If it felt right then you knew you were doing the right thing, if it felt wrong the four of you could go back to normal, even if it was a little disappointing.
The next morning you woke up, still in the captain’s cabin with your beloved partner and two possible partners. Propped up against Izzy’s chest with Edward’s head in your lap and Stede’s head on your shoulder, drooling slightly.
It was only the first day of whatever this was but you felt good about it, felt good about the way the four of you fit together even in your sleep. You didn’t want to be the one to disturb the three men, so you just cuddled back into Izzy and buried your hand in Edward’s hair.
#izzy hands x reader#stede bonnet x reader#edward teach x reader#steddyhands#steddy hands#steddyhands x reader#ofmd x reader
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Project Zomboid (Rook Hunt)
Thank you for 1000 followers! Hope you enjoy the Horror Event!
NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!
Horror Event Masterlist
Requested by the lovely @zozomind (hello again!)
Rook sighs longingly, missing his lover.
It’s been about a week or so since they both woke up in this world, and this is the first time they’ve been apart ever since that day. It had been a bit of a struggle for Rook to get used to not using any magic, but out of most NRC students, he’s one of the few who have sharpened skills outside magic control and athletics. (Y/N), his beautiful muse, had helped him with the transition, both from magic to magicless and from Twisted Wonderland to this world.
“I think this is the world inside a game I played long ago,” she had confessed that first night as they slept inside a tightly shut room, the footsteps of the undead their lullaby. “I know it sounds odd, but that’s the impression I had. Well, it’s not like it matters, at the end of the day, our objective is still to survive.”
Her tale was outlandish, but the blonde huntsman knows better than to discard possibilities, and the way her eyes lighten in recognition every now and then proves that her theory might have some merit.
Rook isn’t one for apocalyptic fantasies, despite recognizing the beauty they have, so he’s glad that his lover carries a lot of information in her beautiful brain. It had taken no time for him to settle, and today he’s proud to say that their progress is beyond impressive. His hunting skills adapted beautifully, and even now they sharpen as he takes his bow and aims an arrow at a zombie’s head.
“Bows are great weapons for zombie apocalypses,” she tells him when he finds one inside a random house. “They’re ranged and silent, and arrows are much easier to craft than bullets. If it’s you, I know you won’t miss. Remember to aim for the head.”
Oh, his beloved girlfriend is so incredibly gorgeous when she smiles at him and bestows on him her knowledge! She had told him it all, all ways zombies could possibly work and how to figure out what type of zombies they’d be facing.
Zombies in this world have a terrifyingly good hearing, and some will be attracted even to the smallest noise. Those that still have eyes are also very much capable of distinguishing a living being. Their sense of smell, however, seems to be terribly lacking, and their rotting flesh is incapable of feeling even the most excruciating pain. (Y/N) had thanked her God for that, saying that zombies with a sense of smell were the worst and she did not want to cover herself in guts and blood just to be safe.
Another good thing is that they are what she calls “shamblers”: zombies that are silent walkers and retain their human-like appearance for longer. Moreover, they’re not in a world with mutated zombies, like lickers or even the molded. He has zero idea what they are, but he chuckles when he remembers how she made him promise to not face any zombie out of the ordinary before he left for this expedition.
Ah, there’s a hammer in the hands of this corpse, poor thing. At least they’ll go knowing their weapon will help others.
Rook leaving for this expedition is a subject they kept on disagreeing even as he put his feet out of the door of their “base”, as she calls it. The house had long been properly barricaded, and together they fix whatever they can to make sure their every need is met until they figure out a way to return home. Yet, the pace they do things would greatly increase if one were to be in the house at all times while the other goes out for supplies runs and hunting for clues on why they’re here and how to leave.
“But it’d be safer if we were together!” she insisted, handing him a bag with things he might need on the journey. The way she still takes care of him despite not agreeing with his choices warms his heart. She’s just so beautiful. “What if something happens? You’ll be all alone and I won’t ever know!”
“My dear,” he had answered then, taking her hands in his and kissing them tenderly, cherishing the blush that rises to her cheeks despite the age of their relationship, “There is simply not one thing in all worlds that will keep me from coming back to you. If it is proven that it’s too dangerous to be alone, then we will return to how we were. I promise you.”
He had then pressed their lips together before stepping out of the house, chuckling at the grumbling under her breath that reached his good ears.
Oh, how he misses his beloved gem, his breathtaking muse, his most cherished. He can’t wait to go home—he can already see it in the distance—and greet her with a kiss that will hopefully steal her breath away as much as her mere presence steals his. He’ll show her the fruits of his travels, the last two days he spent alone under the skies and away from her resplendence, and ask her for a kiss at every new item, knowing they can’t deny each other. He’ll take off his clothes and clean himself so they can share a moment together in the kitchen, make and eat dinner, and then share another one in the living room, bodies intertwined in comfort on the couch. He’ll kiss her once and twice and thrice and how many times it takes for her smile to make the stars blush in defeated awe, and then he’ll kiss her more to make sure those pesky stars know she is all Rook’s, and he is not a selfless man.
He’ll throw his bag on the floor and rush to the busted front door just in time to hear her scream from the bedroom.
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst imagines#twst x reader#x fem reader#rook hunt x reader#rook hunt#horror event 2022
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95 Willoughby propgaganda time! (sort of)
First of, let's state the obvious because in a 'who's physically hottest' contest, there's no way he should lose to this Capt. Wentworth.
BUT! As much as he's a villain we all love to hate and hate to love, he's also more than that. Out of all of Austen's antagonists, he is probably the most troubled soul.
He's a man who's madly in love with Marianne, but burdened by the responsibility and expectations of his family (estate and legacy). Did he do Marianne wrong? Absolutely. Is he a villain without nuance? Absolutely not.
Re: Marianne's letters and visits: yes, he acted like a dick when she confronted him, but she was the one who sent the letters, despite knowing how scandalous it was for unmarried women to write to unrelated men. She put him in an impossible situation with her public confrontion and there really was no way that would ever not end ugly, plus it had the potential to utterly ruin them both (and Elinor to boot).
Re: Miss Grey: imagine yourself in his shoes, with all the responsibilities and trappings of the society in which you were raised. You have a home that is in dire need of (costly) maintenance, a demanding aunt you depend on, and a responsibility to take care of your family's estate, including providing work for your local community. Do you marry the wild and dramatic Marianne, who's dirt poor and, for as much as she'll give you emotionally, will only strain the finances further (and lose you your inheritance)? Or do you go for Miss Grey with her £50.000 (£5.2mil today!) dowry, who will provide stability and security so you can keep living how you've been raised to expect? I'm not saying I agree with his choices or that he handled things well, but I can understand why he did what he did when looking at it within the context of that era.
Re: Miss Eliza: yeah, he fucked up. Both he and Eliza made some bad choices and she was left with the consequences. There's not much I can or want to say in his (or her) defence there 🤷🏻♀️.
So, in conclusion, Willoughby is a masterfully written portrayal of a complex young man. He did some bad things and made some wrong decisions, and he spent the rest of his life regretting not chosing Marianne. I don't think he's a good man like Wentworth is, but neither do I believe him to be the villain he's often painted as.
Anyone who's not a diehard Wentworth fan should consider Willoughby's context before voting for either man. (And he is the hotter one, just saying...;)
Willoughby (1995) Vs Captain Wentworth (1995)
#propaganda#I have a feeling this may be a controversial one#john willoughby#sense and sensibility 1995
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I watched How We Were Before!
Turns out, I'd read the synopsis previously on Wikipedia-- but that made me invested instead of disinterested.
Interesting movie-- It's not a romance so much as a showcase of the faults of romanticization. imo, Hubbell and Katie weren't meant to be but were making it work. And interesting that Hubbell tried to make choices-- the first girl, writing, etc.-- but ended up on paths further away from the life he would choose himself (finishing the book, Katie, fatherhood, etc.)
Some back and forth thoughts were put out there about Katie's idealism and it destroying the relationship; but that's not the takeaway I had, at all. Her perspective and his were both valuable, both real, both respectable; but clashed with each other. Her pursuits and passions disturbed him; his happiness was found a different route. And his lack of passion or humorous POV on matters that were of serious importance to her nettled, hurt, and wounded Katie.
Some people just don't work. Some people are drawn to each other but aren't meant to be. Or they can love and respect and be on fire for so many aspects about a person but not have that passion or love returned, at least in equal measure.
And, in the end, I think it's their daughter that suffers. Her mother pushed back on her father's distancing and disinterest and even (at times) disgust, wanting him despite; and her father let himself be led from one mess to another, none of them satisfactory to him because he hadn't fully accepted and reconciled parts of himself. Thus, little Rachel was born and grew up and lived without her father in her life.
Both had fantastic speeches, too-- wisdom to share with each other. Perspectives and chemistry isn't the only thing to keep a relationship afloat.
Also, I find it interesting if you turn the conceit of the movie on its head a bit: if first girl were the main character, she'd have married the friend of a man who she loved and who loved her; and there'd be bittersweet music every step of the way she takes. That's what I like about the movie, I think: it shows the effects of bad choices and poor decisions, with lots of backstory hinted at but not fully explored. I'm really starting to like Sydney Pollack movies.
The only thing I don't respect is that Hubbell didn't raise his daughter, even if being a father didn't fit into the life he wanted. He might not have been the best father, but a phone call every once in a while would have been better than nothing. (But, again, those characters would have made those choices.)
Very thought provoking! :DDD
Ahhh, glad you watched it! I agree they weren't to be. The only reason they were is because their feelings for each other were so intense and I see it more like, rather than making it work, they were trying to make it work because of the love that was there between them. That never left. The last scene is proof of that.
Ultimatively, they're too fundamentally different. One thing that always gets me is how Katie is trying to fit herself into Hubbel's world. She tries to be that person who gets along with his friends but in the end, she is who she is, and she's done trying to pretend - no matter how much she loves Hubbell.
I'm not sure Hubbell ever really makes a choice. It's like he wrote in his short story "everything came too easily to him". He always follows the path of least resistance. That's why they break up. Katie is done trying to be who she isn't and he is never going to change.
Yeah, I agree. Her idealism didn't destroy the relationships. They were just too different. That doesn't mean either of them was wrong for wanting and doing what they did.
I don't their their daughter suffers. Katie marries someone else who I'm sure is a wonderful father. If they had stayed together, both would have been miserable.
Hubbell wouldn't have had his career because of his association with Katie. Barbra Streisand commented on that once and said she hates how much it looks like they broke up because of him sleeping with another woman. When in reality it was really the political climate with Katie having been a communist and Hubbell trying to make it in Hollywood. And of course their clashing personalities.
I think Hubbell would have loved to be a father. It had nothing to do with that. There was just no way for them to be in each other's lives anymore. That's why he says he can't come visit. They can either be strangers or lovers; there's no in-between for them. That makes it so bittersweet for me.
And I really like Sydney Pollack movies too! He did so many with Robert Redford 😁
#lovely asks#i love the way we were so much#the movie omits quite a bit#especially a lot about the politics
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i mean how sam always seems to have the final say, sam and his new gf got colby with someone they picked, sam dominates opinions during interviews even if colby speaks sam always has the final say, he says things like people shouldn’t live life via a book (talking on christianity whilst sitting next to his christian best friend) but then lives his own life via self help books and preaches them at every chance (whats the difference?). the structure of their videos now are basically everything sam wants to do (rituals and such), it was him and his family who made the financial decisions for the both of them and they share a bank account (this was probably smart when they were 16 and im sure they have personal accounts too)
i also saw people on twitter saying colby looks like hes starting to figure it out. how also sam would not have made it half as far in his career without eye candy colby standing beside him. how sam treated kat and how many colby is seeing similarities with his own relationship with him.
colbys codependent on sam so he would never walk away but i hope sam isnt taking advantage of him or manipulating him in anyway to make colby stay around.
a lot of this isn't really manipulation. at least i don't believe it to be.
sam is a control freak who thinks he's always right/is too stubborn to listen to others. and colby goes along with a lot of what sam says bc one, that is his best friend and business partner, and two, colby doesn't see himself as intelligent like sam so sam's able to get his way a lot bc colby won't rock the boat/trust his own opinions.
it would be manipulative if sam fed into those insecurities colby has and told him "yeah we should go with what i want bc your choices are poor" but colby actively deciding to go with what sam says just bc he thinks his idea is good is not sam being manipulative.
for everything else, i'll break it down how i think it is.
colby was going out with ms singer, k's other friend, before all going out with m. and that didn't work out so that's why k introduced m to colby and they hit it off. that's not really sam playing a part or manipulating colby to date someone just bc. i think that was just happenstance tbh.
sam just talks a lot more than colby. i personally think also as of recently colby seems disinterested in a lot of the outside content they have been doing, and i think that's from burnout and the fandom et large just constantly berating him and it tiring him out.
the christianity/self help thing is just sam being hyprocritical. it's also why i find his argument of not like astrologers to be stupid. just bc it don't make sense to you doesn't mean it's lesser than. i think it's dumb to read a book written by (basically) a get rich quick scheme artist who hasn't had any hardships but knows therapy speak relatively well, and for some reason that makes them qualified to tell me how to live my best life. but hey, to each their own lol
the structure of vids… eh, i think they both agree to that layout. and i think part of that also comes from the comments and what some ppl want as well.
sam's family being involved has less to do with sam and more to do with colby's family just not taking his dreams and career seriously. not to mention, sam's dad was already retired by the time snc were getting started so it makes sense that that man knows a thing or two more about business. and also he tried to be in their lives and it seems as if colby's parents (minus his mother) didn't so again, not really sam.
and the boys, i would assume, have both the business account and their own personal ones. they just talk about and use the same business account more (probably for tax write offs lol).
i do think colby wants time away from the brand and business, but i don't think it's sam's doing that makes him want to leave, at least not fully. i think the over working and the constant long hours/having little to no time off has definitely put a damper on things for colby. and some of that is also tied to sam wanting them both to constantly work and needing to do something "productive" at all times. but i think that's also why they have reduced their work load a lot.
i think in the long run colby will not be in this business as long as sam might want him to be/will be. colby seems about ready to dip out to me sometimes, but i think that also comes from the pressure of the fans and how mean they can be. how invasive they can be. how careless they continue to be towards someone they claim to love. colby keeps a lot inward, and this tied with his own personal struggles (along with his cancer and such), i think colby wants time away that he feels like he can't take. and whether that's bc of sam or other facts is not something we really know 100% about.
i believe they are both very codependent on each other, mostly bc, as they have mentioned, they are the only ppl in their lives they feel they can be 100% themselves around. not to mention every bad and good moment in the last 10+ years has had each other in it, so of course they are gonna rely heavily on one another. i do hope they eventually take some time to be by themselves, away from one another. just to get some space. i don't think that's happening any time soon, unless something major transpires.
but short answer, no. i don't think sam is being manipulative towards colby. i think colby can make his own decisions, regardless of sam. he actively chooses to be with sam daily. i'm sure if he didn't like it he would have left by now lol
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Rewriting Ahsoka episodes 1-3
(Or: if Sabine wasn’t force sensitive and how I think that could have benefited the show)
I don’t think it’s a secret but I’ve been rather disappointed with the writing choices in Ahsoka so far and I wanted to try and write my own take on how the show might have gone without changing any of the major plot points.
This is mainly with the aim of expanding on the main characters' arcs and giving them slightly different motivations. Take this as an exercise in writing or simply a character study. Because if nothing else, Ahsoka gives us some interesting premises in regards to Sabine and, well, Ahsoka.
So without further ado, let’s get into this.
For starters in this rewrite, Sabine isn’t force sensitive and the whole idea that anyone can use the force is scrapped (more on why I don’t like that in another post because I don’t want this getting too long). We use the same theme of working hard and not giving up as the show does but we change Sabine’s motivations entirely. What do I mean by that:
In this scenario Sabine isn’t discouraged by her poor ability to use the force but rather by her complete inability to do so. Something that makes more sense given her backstory and ties her motivations more closely to the Ghost crew.
We now have a Sabine who is still suffering Ezra and Kanan’s loss and partly blames herself for not being able to help them. Who feels inadequate because in the time since, she’s come to the conclusion that it was her inability to use and understand the force that prevented her from being by their side.
Kanan was blinded and they nearly lost Ahsoka on Malachor and she couldn’t do anything. And it wasn’t even the first time their two force users pranced off to do Jedi business. Kanan died using the force to protect all of them and Ezra disappeared when he went off to deal with Thrawn by himself. Both instances where she must have felt helpless.
(What if there’d been another force user there to help Kanan contain the explosion? Would it have made a difference? What if Ezra didn’t feel responsible for acting on his own because he was the only force user left in their group?)
It eats her up from the inside but she pushes it down and moves on. But then it all comes back to haunt her when Ahsoka approaches her to ask her to be her backup on the various missions she does for the New Republic after the war. And Sabine agrees but the more missions they go on, the more she feels like she just can’t keep up.
She grows more and more frustrated because it feels like Ahsoka is stronger and faster than her, her lightsabers more efficient, her intuition more accurate, her skills more diverse and Sabine just… keeps falling behind. Eventually she starts botching things just because she gets into her head (and if there’s one thing we know from Rebels, it’s that Sabine is very good at getting into her own head, her training to use the dark saber being the best example.)
Never mind that Ahsoka is older and more experienced than her, in her eyes she’s decided that it’s because she doesn’t have the force. She’ll never be force sensitive and that’s why she’ll always be one step behind. It’s Kanan and Ezra all over again.
Eventually she gives up and leaves despite Ahsoka trying to convince her otherwise. She tells Ahsoka to find a real partner, someone force sensitive. Sabine doesn’t want another repeat of what happened to her family. She doesn’t want to feel useless again, standing helplessly on the side.
In time she even gives up on maintaining her other skills because what’s the point? For all the skills she had mastered (weapons, close combat, even her tech savviness), it had all been in vain in the end so what’s the point.
Ahsoka is understandably disappointed – because she knows Sabine is wrong and Ahsoka’s never been one to take things lying down like that. Ahsoka in the Clone Wars was a spitfire, energetic, someone who can’t tolerate sitting idly.
These differences cause a rift between her and Sabine – maybe even an actual falling out or an argument – and that later leads to the tension we feel between them.
All of these things don’t have to happen in the show either, they can be implied through dialogue. We can have a talk between Hera and Sabine in the hospital where Sabine admits to the guilt she feels about Kanan and Ezra. Maybe Hera has known Sabine has been keeping something bottled up for a while but Sabine has never opened up about it and only does it now when she’s hurt and at her lowest.
Heck, maybe Jacen comes to visit her with his mom and it’s the sight of him and the fact that he reminds Sabine so much of both Kanan and Ezra that makes her finally break down.
(There’s just so much you can do with these characters and the convoluted past hey have. It’s an actual crime that we’ve had Sabine bond more with Ahsoka in this show than she does with Hera. But anyway I’m getting ahead of myself.)
The show opens with the ceremony only this time Sabine is attending. Something that’s more in line with her character because this is an event honoring the people who fell in the war and we know this is no small deal to her. She walks out to the sound of the crowd’s cheering and applause but suddenly freezes.
When she turns to leave and the mayor stops her to ask what’s wrong she tells him she doesn’t deserve this because in her mind she doesn’t – she’s not the hero who died to save everyone. That’s Ezra and Kanan and they’re not here.
A classic case of survivor’s guilt but one that I think can be used very effectively. This is the first time we see Sabine in the show and by all means we agree that she does deserve to be proud of herself and that seems to be the case until she has her little ptsd moment and he audience realizes that something’s wrong.
Then we move on to Ahsoka who’s retrieved her map and is discussing it with Hera. They’re talking about the best way to go about deciphering it and Hera suggests that Ahsoka could try and ask Sabine for help. Maybe she’s not the most logical choice (it stands to reason that there are people out there more qualified than her) but Hera knows Sabine is struggling and hopes that this might make her recover some of her self-esteem and she tells Ahsoka as much. She’s also hoping that she can bring these two together so that they might finally work out their differences.
This to me is a nice way of underlining Hera’s role as the voice of reason in the crew, to remind the audience, or communicate to them if they haven’t seen Rebels, that it’s her emotional intelligence that often keeps the family together (because the Spectres have always been stronger together).
Ahsoka reluctantly agrees to do it.
I’m not a fan of the way they handled the stealing of the map in the show so we’re changing that here. Rather than just slipping away, Sabine is disturbed by Ahsoka’s reappearance and tensions run high until another argument breaks out. This is how we get Sabine alone with the map.
Shortly after her worst nightmare comes true when Shin, a force user, confronts her. Sabine panics and botches the fight because she’s decided she’s lost it before it’s even begun. Ahsoka senses that something is wrong and interrupts the fight but by that time Sabine is wounded (a lighter wound this time because that would have definitely killed her) and she has to protect her while trying to get the map back. In the end Shin gets away and Sabine is taken to the hospital.
When she wakes up, she hits a new low. She’s once again become a burden for a force user. Instead of helping, she actually held Ahsoka back and this reaffirms her belief that Ahsoka should just let her be and find a proper padawan to be her partner.
This is where her and Hera could have their heart to heart. Then Ahsoka marches in with the droid head and tells her to hack it. Sabine starts to protest but Ahsoka’s had enough and puts her foot down – Sabine can either keep moping around and stew in self-pity or she could pull herself together and start helping Ahsoka fix this mess and stop Thrawn’s return. Sabine reluctantly agrees but says that she’s only doing this for Ezra.
On their way, Ahsoka starts training Sabine. Unlike in the show though she’s not training her how to be Force user but rather how to fight a force user (a literal representation of Sabine facing her fears and insecurities head on.)
This plot could also give some more substance to Sabine’s annoyance with Huyang’s tendency to parrot Jedi aphorisms and protocols, a reminder of her current struggles with all things force related.
And I’m going to stop here because what follows are mostly action scenes and while I have gripes with those, I want to focus on the characters and I’m not the best expert on space battles and lightsaber fights.
But in essence, what I would have liked to see for Sabine is a character arc ala Sokka from Avatar style. In Sokka’s case he was the single non-bender in a group of benders. This caused him to feel redundant and useless but instead of magically giving him bending, the show sent him on a journey to find his own strengths and develop his skills until he was able to keep up with his team and become invaluable to them. The same ‘work hard and don’t give up despite not having superpowers’ that I would have liked for Sabine.
The show could still do something similar with her by letting her realize she doesn’t need the force or have her use it in her own unorthodox way but it still could have given us that same arc without tampering with canon and introducing a slew of meta problems in the process.
In addition, I think this could also give Ahsoka a better character arc: as far as we know she’s never had a padawan until now. And though Sabine isn’t Force sensitive in this version, Ahsoka could suddenly find herself in the same position as a jedi master: as someone who needs to guide and teach. Only it’s even harder for her because Sabine isn’t a padawan, she can’t use the same methods that were used with her, she can’t teach Sabine to meditate or look to the force for answers and balance. No, she has to figure this out without the help of the force.
In the progress she could also turn to Hera for little pointers and advice because while Ahsoka may be the jedi here, Hera has much more experience doing this. Being a leader, a mentor, a mother. These new arcs could serve to highlight each of the characters’ strengths: Hera’s emotional intelligence and leadership, Ahsoka’s passion, drive and determination and Sabine’s perfectionism and capacity to care for those she loves.
In the case of Ahsoka and Sabine, their strengths are also tied to their shortcomings: Ahsoka is still headstrong and fiery (rather than the stoic wise version this show keeps on pushing) which gets in the way of her relationship with Sabine and Sabine’s tendency to overthink and expect so much of herself ultimately ends up sabotaging her.
And that’s a decent jumping off point for some good character development down the line.
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Am I the only one who felt sad when Rio used Beth's family to threaten her in S4E8? I remember when he hid his gun because Dean came out with one of their kids back in season 2. He must have been really frustrated by that point to have to use them to get Beth to cooperate. Do you think it was out of character?
Anon, love this question! I’ve been thinking about it, trying to find a way to put ✨vibes✨ into words. Because so much of 4.08 seems confusing unless you read into all of Rio’s motivations for the entirety of season 4. I have no idea what the writing actually intended, but I will never view Rio as someone who kills or even scares children. Just like you said, he hid his gun so Emma wouldn’t be frightened.
The Brio conversation at the bar is very specific. They have an entire pitcher of beer between them. And half of it is gone. She has her bourbon that looks barely touched. This just seems to be a thought out meeting where Rio maybe sat for a while and waited for her and contemplated his best approach. This wasn’t an emotional conversation where he, in his frustration, behaved out of character. This is a calculated maneuver in which he said what he needed to say to make the events of 4.08 happen.
I think one of the most telling pieces of dialogue in the entire episode is how Rio begins this conversation. “You and me, we got a real opportunity here.” You and me! For all the flack Rio gets for his poor communication skills, he outright told her. You and me. We. We can do whatever we want.
Of course, Beth being Beth, she never understands when he speaks. And doesn’t trust his judgment. To be fair, he was being vague and not telling her his whole plan. (And I’m in the camp of “Rio planned his own arrest” which you kinda have to be in to agree with any of this.) This entire conversation was Rio calmly and patiently trying to maneuver her where she needed to be. He needed her to play the snitch. She was doing it anyway. So he was giving her room to do her thing and he would use it to their benefit. She was just being confrontational, understandably, so he had to say some things… Look how he looks at her so seriously at the end. “You feel me?” Get it, Elizabeth??? Just do it. Play your part and stop arguing.
I don’t think he liked saying it. There was no real malice in his eyes in this scene. He just seemed resigned. Tired even. Quiet. Like he’d gone over all of it and this was the only way. He even comforted her in the end, because he knew he’d scared her. But he needed her motivated. Incentive.
The heartbreaking thing about this episode is that they both sat around contemplating how to choose each other. Rio over his pitcher of beer, Beth in her hot tub. And they each tried. The problem is that Rio never knew how she tried. He didn’t see how despite him threatening her children’s lives she STILL tried to choose him and protect him. And I understand how Rio’s emotions seem all over the place in this episode, but I think that makes sense with the decision he ultimately made. Just because he chose her doesn’t mean it wasn’t difficult to do. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t still hurtful to know she would never reciprocate what he was feeling and what he was willing to do for her. He didn’t think he’d ever be her choice and even though he thought he was prepared for it, it still broke his heart when it happened.
I will NEVER get over this shot. My favorite shot of the entire series.
But he knew what he was doing. Had he wanted to kill her family, he could easily have done it. It wasn’t what he ever meant to do. He just needed her to play her part, be her usual selfish self, and not choose him. So he could keep choosing her.
“You and me, we got a real opportunity here.”
“We can do whatever we want.”
😭😭😭
His plan worked. Almost. Until Nick got involved.
(Also, was that the first time he’d been in her bedroom since they had sex in it? Because some of his uncharacteristic vulnerability was probably triggered by what that space meant to them. “You should go.”)
#4.08#broken toys#I could lead a university course on this episode by now#I will never get tired of it#brio#good girls nbc#beth x rio#asks#headcanon
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i think with noah's interview and confirming that will's gay and in love with mike; and that the duffer brothers have been building it up since season 1, i'll be anticipating for a big payoff in s5. they can just build up byler and make it unrequited. it doesn't make sense plus it completely deviates from all the subtexts and hints they've given us for four seasons already.
I agree that it wouldn't make sense to not have byler endgame. And to do all this set up just for it to be unrequited. I've been pointing out all the subtext for years. And yes , there is alot of queer subtext in s1. That made it pretty obvious Will was gay and even hinted that mike wasn't straight either. Which my followers know I've talked about extensively. I also pointed out how most of the byler scenes were initiated by mike in s1-2. And how s1, 2, 3 and 4 still had a bunch of byler subtext for both Will and Mike. One of the positive aspects about s4 byler is that they showed it's not simply mike always taking care of Will. But that it's mutual: Will also takes care of and checks on mike's emotions too. The best part of their relationship: is that they actually talk to eachother about their feelings . And s4 pretty much confirmed Will is gay and in love with Mike (to the oblivious fans who missed all the prior hints in past seasons- but hilariously there were still "gay- Will" deniers after s4).
Which is why I need byler to not just be subtext anymore (because alot of queerbaits are subtext). Byler may be endgame in s5. But it's tiring that we only get subtext,and m*leven gets a whole love confession (even if behind the subtext we know mike didn't fall in love right after seeing her, the vines tightening around El as mike spoke, the fact some of mike's line were literally identical to brenner's speech to el , not even getting into the superhero line again, or how awkward the 2's dynamic is after the confession .) Plus, in s4 (and prior seasons) they constantly show Elmike parallel familial dynamics - probably to hint it's familial love (not romantic love). But, in spite of that, plenty of people will take the romantic confession as straight forward confirmation for m*leven.
Right now if they wanted they could theoretically still sell out- and go the cliche route (with m*leven etc). They retcon all the time anyways. And alot of the general audience wouldn't question how it contradicts - the narrative, character arcs ,the background details, subtext/dialogue, etc.
So at this point- I really think the love confession was a poor choice. Even if it's meant to subvert expectations . They just lost a lot of queer fans' trust and m*levens would have some right to be upset in s5 (if byler is canon.)
And yeah the fact El (originally) In s1 was supposed to die and be 2 years younger than mike .Doesn't scream romantic endgame. Not to mention how unhealthy they are as a couple - but I can't always expect people not to sell out. Or even write healthy romances.
I'm hoping for the best... but they still lost my trust a lot (given certain elements in s4). The way they handled certain story beats besides byler /m*leven (but also the whole lucas /erica fights + how they planned on k*lling max originally- going against the whole vecna allegory of max "running up that hill" to overcome her su*cidal thoughts). It just made me question their writing. Did s4 have alot of positive elements though- yeah, it would be a lie to say otherwise.
Do I still think byler was the original plan, and could possibly still be endgame- yes. Alot of evidence points to byler being endgame: the byler subtext in literal every season (even making direct contrasts/parallels of byler to m*leven).While m*leven has relationahip issues every season they date. And mike/el dating brings out the worst in eachother, and literally every season when they get back together they undo all their past character arcs/lessons. They don't improve. M*even in s3 and 4: they ignore their friends for eachother, lie to eachother, fight, say I love you. Wash and repeat. Mike in the beginning of s4 is hero worshiping el- is it solved in s4 , nope. Just double downed on that mike hero worships rather than sees her as his gf. And even before dating it was hinted it wouldn't be healthy (el's spying , jealousy,etc)- so I'm not surprised. Plus, how s4 ended, and how alot of the films that inspired s4 -have couples that parallel byler. And also because Will in s5 is "supposedly" a primary focus again. But do I 100% trust the duffers to actually give us endgame byler like I used to - no.
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So based on Yugioh, can you write a oneshot featuring Joey Wheeler going on a date night with a rich girl reader please? You can decide on the places they'd visit but I'd like the theme to have Joey feeling insecure about dating a wealthy and influential reader due to his poor background. What do you think?
I think that would be interesting to write about🤔😃👍I also think it would be a change of pace in a good way😃👍Plus with the plot and Joey Wheeler, I think it would be fun and interesting🤔😁👍
What Do You Truly See In Me? ((Adult) Joey Wheeler x Rich Girl Reader(aka Female Reader))
Genres: Angst and Comfort
Both you and Joey Wheeler have been in a relationship for about a year. While both you and Joey have alot in common, especially dueling. The thing is that Joey has a poor background while you're a wealthy influencer.
A year ago, the first time Joey met you, he admitted about being a huge fan of yours because of (the wealthy influencer career of reader's choice). You felt admired by it. You also became flattered when he ask you out, which you told him yes, then you and Joey exchanged phone numbers with eachother.
One year later, not much has changed, except the fact his feelings of insecurity grew. It's not about another person he's worried about taking you away or anything like that. You always wanted to take care of Joey, especially in a financial way, and even if he doesn't need financial help, you always spoil him with stuff, especially when he's not expecting you to. While he appreciates you doing things for him especially his needs and spoiling him without expecting it, at the same time, as time went he keeps feeling like he's take advantage of you, even tough he hasn't asked much from you.
One day, you noticed he was feeling down, so you decided to surprise him by bringing him to an expensive japanese buffet, since it has plenty of food that he likes, you thought. Once you brought him there as his surprise, he still feels down, while trying to hide it from you, as he pretended that everything is going fine for him. You basically know better, despite of not being aware of his insecurity.
After you and Joey went in the expensive japanese buffet, you and Joey ordered drinks (japanese sodas). As you were about to pay the cashier prior to getting yourself and Joey started to eat, he rushed to pay for both your buffet meal and his buffet meal to risk spending most of his money he has left (if not all of the money he had left). You're happy for him that he did pay for both buffet meals and all, however you're confused and concerned about his behavior as well. So, he decided to wait on himself and you to get the buffet food to have you sit down to wait for him. You then thought up ways to have a serious talk with him.
After Joey brought your food and his food to the table you told him, "Hey, Joey. If you don't mind, I think we need to have a talk. Not just about you feeling down, however it's also about you behavior at the register, prior to the waitress finding a table for us.". Joey knew why you did want to have a talk, however he pretended to be okay by agreeing as he replied, "Okay, (Rich Girl Reader Name).". You then explained in concern, "Well you see Joey, I noticed earlier today you were feeling down, so I thought maybe taking you to the expensive japanese buffet would cheer you up, then I noticed that you paid for both our buffets. I mean it was nice of you to do so, however I'm concerned about you, Joey. I'm starting to be scared that you might be ashamed of me for some reason. Please don't act like you don't know anything. I know you're hiding your emotions and I like to you to be honest with me. Are you ashamed of me or not?".
Joey did start to feel worse about himself, knowing what he did made you feel bad about his own behavior. He then replied, "No, no. That's not true all (Rich Girl Reader Name). I just have been ashamed of myself honestly. Tell me, (Rich Girl Reader's Name)? What did you really see in me?". You were shocked about what he told you by asking, "What do you mean Joey? Are you implying that I only said yes to being in the relationship with you out of pity due to me being wealthy and you're not?". He replied honestly, "That and I feel like I'm taking advantage of you just from you paying for everything for me, despite me not asking you to. I mean I appreciate everything you did and are doing for me and all. It's just that due to my poor background and you're so wealthy, I just feel like I'm a terrible boyfriend for you for you paying for everything, while I never have been able to buy you anything expensive! I just don't know why you stayed despite this, if you're not pitying me! I also have been worrying about one of us or both of us getting insulted due to you being tons richer than me, and then one of these days people will be convincing us to snub eachother, because of this. Why did you never leave me, despite of knowing my poor background, if pitying me isn't the case?!".
You then realized the real reason why he was feeling down, then you went on his side of the table to hug him, as you told him, "I'm sorry you've been feeling insecure about this. If I would have known that I would have found another way to cheer you up and tell you that I still love you and I took you in and stayed by your side, because I find you cute, funny, kind hearted, and all of these amazing qualities you have. I promise, I'm not going out with you out of pitying you over me being more wealthy than you. I'm going out with you, because you're better than all the other guys I met. All other guys did was use me for their own personal gain and (anything else to the reader's imagination). You're different Joey. I told my parents about you and they're convinced that you're using me for my money, and I told them similar as what I'm telling you. You're not taking advantage of me, because you didn't twist my arm (metaphorically), for me to get you anything or even help you, Joey! And you're not like any of the other men I dated! You're better than them, because to me riches don't matter to me! All that matters is that we love eachother, because of I can't marry you or even have you, then I refuse to marry anyone else nor even be with anyone else! I love you for who you are! Not for what we can do for eachother nor out of pity!," you then kissed his forehead. He blushed, then happy tears came down as he said, 'I love you for who you are too, (Rich Girl Reader Name) and with all my heart.". as he hugged you, then proceeded to kiss your forehead back. Both you and Joey Wheeler, then actually started eating together afterwards.
After your date night at the expensive japanese buffet with Joey Wheeler and talking things out with him , your relationship with him has grown stronger for it. Even to the point where he is no longer insecure based on the "wealthy and poor background" relationship. His life (with you), has been much better eversince then.
The End
Okay my Tumblr Peeps I truly hope you enjoy this fanfic with Joey Wheeler and it makes your day😁👍As for you, @princeasimdiya12 , thank you very much for requesting a fanfic for me to write, and I truly hope you enjoy, how I written about this Joey Wheeler fanfic and that this fanfic makes your day, as well😃👍
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From ABQ with love, Nacho
Chapter 1
This is the first chapter of my LCDP x BCS AU/Nacho spin-off. More info can be found here! || AO3 link
Chapter summary: After being saved by "The fancy son of a bitch", his travel from Albuquerque, to an unknown destination begins. But who is the man really? Why did he save Nacho? And where are they headed? Words: 1.8k TW: Drugs/drugging, cuss words, blood [Might be a bit OOC, bare with me] English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3
I don’t know where he’s taking me, the man who introduced himself as “Berlin” - But I choose to remain to calling him “The fancy son of a bitch”
But I don’t dare to ask him. Whether I like it or not - He saved my ass.
So when he threatens to kill me if I try escaping, when he drugs me into obedience, when he drives me through the country, and when we sit down at the airport and then on the plane - I don’t make a sound.
Plane I haven’t been on a plane since I was a kid.
Me and dad only went on trips a couple of times.
We didn’t grow up poor - and my childhood was happy.
My dad was a single parent and had his own company, so it was up to him to make sure his son was well fed.
He did a good job, my dad. But I had the tendency to get myself into trouble.
It was a combination of the adrenaline junkie within me, the people I made friends with, and the economical situation me and dad had.
It started with Domingo and Tuco - and escalated into the Salamancas and the cartel.
Dad is an honorable man. In the fog of my mind, I see his face. I remember us on that airplane once, when I went on my first vacation. I was so excited, and he smiled at me.
It hurts. It fucking hurts.
He probably thinks I’m dead. In some ways, I am indeed dead.
Did Mike keep his promise? Is my dad safe?
I’m not religious but still I pray to all Gods possible that he gets out safely.
I hate myself for putting him in danger. I hate myself for my choices.
And I hate the fancy son of a bitch next to me.
We fly first class.
He’s a rich fuck, too. He looks unfazed, where he sits reading a book and drinking what I can only guess is alcohol.
Drinking in the light of the day, on a plane? Seriously?
The rich son of a bitch who calls himself “Berlin” looks at me. I must have been staring. If looks could kill, he’d drop dead now.
“I would offer you a scotch, but you’re high.” he chuckles and I grunt in reply. I turn my head to not see his smug face. My situation is confusing and humiliating enough. He continues talking to me, but I’m not listening.
Somehow, he reminds me of Lalo.
The way he talks, his confidence and that sick, twisted personality. They’d make good friends. I manage to laugh and surprise both him and myself.
“Where… We headed…” I manage to spit out. Literally tho. I don’t know what kind of drugs I’m on, but it's difficult to open and close my mouth. I’m probably drooling. And he probably finds joy in seeing people like that.
“Spain. But to which town I can’t let you know.”
Spain…
“Why?”
“Because I’m ordered to bring you there. A friend of mine has an offer for you. And you’re a damn stupid brat if you don’t agree. Besides, this little trip cost me a fortune. Imagine all the fancy wines I could’ve brought, instead of picking up some depressed, bald cartel man.”
Suddenly I’m happy to be drugged. The fancy son of a bitch should be too. I’d slap his smug face bloody if I could.
I don’t give a fuck that he “saved” me. I don’t care if we’re on a plane. I’d ruin him.
“Fuck you.” I whisper.
He glances at me, up and down. I must look ridiculous with sweaty, dirty clothes, wounds and bruises on my face. That, with the dark circles marking my dark eyes, combined with how affected I must look from the drugs, with half open mouth and eyes. He definitely notices, because his next words are:
“I have no idea what the Professor saw in you.”
The Professor? I choke back a laugh. Berlin. The professor. What the fuck is this?
“You should’ve let me die.”
Silence.
“Yes. Yes I should have, huh?” He puts the book down and stares blankly at me. “I’ll get some sleep. Ima have to drug you again, so you don’t try suffocating me with a pillow.”
“Yea. Because I’d definitely try to escape when we’re on a damn plane.” My voice is coated with sarcasm and the fancy son of a bitch laughs. When he hands me a pill, I don’t have the energy, nor willpower to disagree. I swallow it down with water and soon my brain is fogged up again and I enter a world of dreams.
I remember my dad’s worry. I had just joined the cartel and for the first time in my life, I was beaten bloody. My face was swollen and I was limping when I sunk down outside his door.
“Hijo?” a tired voice said. His face twisted to concern, to anger and then fright. Having to explain what had happened to him was not easy. His worry was not the worst. It was the disappointment in his eyes.
“Sorry.” I mumbled. “I got this under control, ok?”
What a lie.
The next day is the same: Airplanes and cars - in the company of what I’m now sure is a sociopath. He talks to me as if we were friends. He mocks me like he hates me, and he asks me questions like he was a cop and I was a suspect. I can’t figure him out. At all.
When we finally arrive at an old house in the dead of night, I’m finally free from those damn pills, and I get to eat some real food. I even get my own room. That night, I slept like I’ve never slept before.
The wardrobe in “my room” has some simple t-shirts and jeans, a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and even some work-out clothes.
I should feel relieved but I’m anxious. It feels like danger creeps over me. Is this some sort of sick joke? Is “Berlin” part of the cartel too? I don’t know. At least the door to the room is open. The house is dark and dusty. If someone actually lives here, they must be a disruptive person. I walk the house mindlessly. I find a kitchen, dining room, bathrooms and like 8 more bedrooms. There’s even an attic.
Curiosity takes over and I climb the stairs up.
I walk into… A classroom…?
Yes. A classroom.
A blackboard, a desk with pens and papers… A line of small tables and chairs, exactly like the ones I used to sit by when I was young and in school.
One word is written with white chalk on the board: ¡Bienvenido! It says.
“Hello.” I flinch and by instinct reach for the gun I don't carry anymore.
Not because this man looks like a threat either ways.
The thin, bearded man seems to be my age, with dark, thick glasses, wavy hair and a dark suit. Everything he’s wearing is dark. As dark as the house. He doesn’t look like a snob. The suit looks as old and vintage as the interior of the house. Must be he who owns the residence. He almost looks like a…
“Professor.” I mumble. The man smiles and looks nervous.
“That’s right. You may call me ‘The Professor’”
No thank you. Is what I don’t say. I just stare at him, as if he just told me a joke that wasn’t funny.
“Ignacio…” he sighs and pulls out a chair. He takes a seat and looks at me. I should hate him. But I can't. Not yet, either ways. “...I’m sorry about your trip here. Berlin can be… Intense.”
“He’s a sociopath.” I correct him with a hiss.
“...Whatever you want to call him. Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Varga?”
Mr. Varga. I’m starting to think this man is older than he seems.
“No.”
“It’s because I have a plan. And I need you for it to work.”
“What? You needed to bring me all the way from Albuquerque and to… Wherever the hell we are, for it?”
“In Toledo. And yes. I needed to.”
“How’d you find me? And why?” I start to feel annoyed, but mostly because I’m so calm. I’ve totally lost my mind. I shouldn’t even hear this man out. Still, I want to. I need to understand my own situation.
“You were in a dark place, Ignacio. But in the darkness there's light. There’s this man that told me about you. He told me about your situation, about your skills and past. You’re a great asset to my team.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“To me it does!”
The Professor starts looking annoyed now too.
“Can I please talk?” The way he’s talking makes me feel like a kid. It’s like getting lectured and I hate it. So I sigh and seal my lips.
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” he adjusts the thick glasses. “Like I was saying; You’re a great asset to my team. You have been in the cartel, you know how to handle weapons and I’m guessing you’re good when it comes to money?”
“What the fuck is this?” I stand up. I’m starting to lose my patience with this shit, hell, I lost it the second I got here.
I walk up to him, threatingly. It seems to work. Of course.
“Manuel Varga. He’s alive and well.”
I want to kill him for talking about my father. But I also want to cry and thank him for saving my father.
“How do you…”
“I promise to hand you proof of his safety, if you promise to hear me out.”
The Professor sounds stern. Yea. His nickname definitely makes sense now. I sit down again. Finally, the bearded man starts talking.
“This week, you’ll meet your new crew of eight other criminals. You - and Berlin, are the first to arrive. These people shall be your new “family”. You’ll eat together, live together and get to know each other - build up trust and grow strong - together.”
He goes quiet.
“Okay…?” I say, my eyebrows furrowing.
“And then… In five months from now… We’ll rob the Royal Mint of Spain.”
I’m startled. Shocked. Then I laugh. This is a sick joke. Of course. My laughter dies out. The man stares blankly at me. Oh God. He’s being serious.
“...That’s impossible.”
“Difficult, yes. But not impossible, Ignacio.”
We stare each other down. After a while, I shake my head.
“How?”
He smiles at me. A cocky smile, this time. For the first time, I actually see more in him - besides a four-eyed lunatic. Maybe, just maybe…
“I have a plan.”
#fanfic writing#aspiring author#writeblr#aspiring writer#original fanfiction#breaking bad#brbabcs#la casa de papel#Nacho spinoff#lcdp x bcs au#fanfiction writer#fanfic authors#better call saul#nacho#nacho varga#ignacio varga#better call saul fanfic#breaking bad fanfic#breaking bad fanfiction#la casa de papel fanfiction#lcdp fanfiction#ignacio nacho varga#nacho varga fanfiction#better call saul spinoff#crossover#au#fanfic writers#ao3 writer#writers on tumblr#writer
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Clean your rooms and pick you stuff up because parents are coming to Stonewall Prep! March 23rd-31st there will be no classes as parents will be visiting our campus. So mind your manners and remember, you’re representing the school to these esteemed guests.
There are things prepared for Parents to enjoy and partake in on campus such as:
Tours of campus
Family Dinners on the 23rd, 24th, and 30th
Class sit ins throughout the week
Lectures by Headmaster Jones including Graduation requirements and current claim trends and statuses
Welcome announcement and city trends by Mayor Lodge
In Town deals for shopping and dining
Parents are allowed on campus to visit their children, however, they must be staying off campus. CURFEW IS STILL ENFORCED and no student may stay off campus without a pass to do so and approval of the Headmaster.
Rules:
Curfew rules will stand for all students.
Parents/siblings 18 years or older are allowed to visit - no minors are allowed.
Parents + their submissive(s) are allowed
Parents are allowed on campus to visit and to see everything, but they must stay overnight in town. Hotels in town are promoting discounts for parents of institute students.
Parents being here does not mean students will get away with poor behavior choices, punishments will still stand if earned.
OOC:
PLEASE READ ALL OF THIS. I know it's a lot, but it's important.
Alrighty so here we go! This will require all of the characters in a family figuring this out so PLEASE remember to be adults about this as decisions are made. DO NOT THROW FITS/GUILT TRIP OTHERS if you're not getting your way. Compromise is key.
If you so desire, you may have one writer from the family build a “parent blog” for one or more parents to be playable. WE ARE LIMITING EACH FAMILY TO ONE BLOG, however, if you have more than one parent coming they can all talk on the same blog. Or, you can have both parents come and only one be ‘active’ if you’d prefer. Self paras with non-blog parents are fine. In regards to the parents, for characters who have been here through a couple of these, some FC’s have been determined previously, and any previous information is listed on the Google Sheet linked further down this post.
OOC Rules to Parent’s Week:
Must talk over ideas/plots with all family members if it involves the parents.
Someone will have to play the parents who will be active and visiting - AGAIN - ONLY ONE BLOG PLEASE. You can have multiple parents on that blog, that’s fine. But just one blog.
You can also have parents coming to the school, but aren’t ‘active’ (for self paras or things where they won’t be talking to other students)
You DO NOT have to have parents come if all writers in that family do not want them to.
The person playing the family should be a writer in that family. However, we will allow outside people to do it, keeping the following in mind:
- That writer cannot write outside of their own family again (meaning, if Mack writes the Berry parents, for example, she cannot write parents for any other non-Mack families).
- This person should know the family well enough to be able to play the parents without there being issues with HCs.
- YOU MUST HAVE TIME TO TAKE ON A PARENT ROLE. Other writers are counting on these roles for plot points and development. If you cannot commit to being on DAILY - do not agree to play a parent role.
- Seriously, I can’t stress this enough. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don’t agree if you’re only going to be on once or twice during the week of this event.
Please insert the information here by March 22nd.
If there are any plots involving parents either on campus or off, PLEASE RUN THEM BY THE ADMINS. We need to make sure everything is alright and fits within the world/school and we also need to watch out how triggering things are happening. Please do not go rouge, and we will not tolerate family plots that are not agreed to by all writers in that family.
Let us know if you have any questions.
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dog i cannot explain to you what this is. at all. this night was a blur and somehow i ended up writing a little drabble for this idea we came up with in the ot3 server, and it's not done enough for me to put on ao3 but i want to go to bed and i still want to send it to them so here it is.
cw: mommy kink, next-door-neighbor and milf marinette, university students luka / adrien living off campus, ot3
“You two know I don’t mind homosexuality— oh, Christ, I sound like a grandmother. Please, no, let me explain”—it’s not as if they exactly have a choice, not with the way she raises a single finger to shush them both as if they were about to leap for her throats for the potentially upsetting comment—“I adore you both. I am very much pro-sex underneath our roofs, I’m a—”
“—Ally?” Adrien offers.
“God, no. A bisexual,” she continues, cool as a cucumber, “and I’ve always been ever since I was young enough to figure out that fingering girls in the bathroom at school was like heaven. I have nothing against gay sex and I never have, and I do not ever want my boys to think they’re not allowed to fuck.”
The silence settles again. Luka tries not to look at her fingers, and tries not to wonder how many times they’ve been in someone. He’s doing a shit job. His cock is far too interested to stop.
“But I just can’t let you two fuck without condoms,” she sighs at the two of them, putting her hands on her thick hips. The two of them shrink in their spots, shying away at being chided. “I want my boys healthy.”
“Marinette—”
“Healthy,” she reiterates, almost begging.
They’re on their lovingly used— he refuses to call it old— couch, each trying to keep modest with a single couch pillow over their crotch and a haphazard, itchy throw blanket over them both. Luka knows that the pillow wouldn’t have been enough for Adrien, who seems to move and itch and scratch the fabric all over in an attempt to have a reason to take it off and deliver some bullshit line about how Marinette deserves to see him naked.
Perhaps she’ll see me and think I’m delectable, Adrien always attempts to reason with him. Look at me. Who could resist?
That blanket is necessary. For his sanity and for Marinette’s… eyes. Adrien is a handful, though Marinette’s never not been able to handle him, but this is uncharted territory. Spare glances to one another and sexual tension aside.
She’s twenty years older than us, Luka keeps telling his boyfriend.
To which Adrien always answers back: Come on. Live a little. What other twenty-two year olds can claim they scored their next door neighbor who’s also a literal MILF?
God, how he wants to agree. He’s got it just as bad, though he reasons he’s doing a much better job at hiding it; meanwhile if Marinette wants Adrien to help her with chores around her apartment, Adrien’s at the door already scrabbling for the door handle in order to cross the hall and get into her space. If she calls him Kitty-cat, he’s purring for her.
Adrien is a lost cause when it comes to her. At least Luka hides his mommy kink, but his boyfriend is impossible to reason with when it comes to tits. Marinette’s tits.
Maybe Luka can somehow convince her to turn away. Maybe Luka can convince her to go back into the kitchen where she was mere minutes ago while he’d had Adrien at the bathroom counter— they hadn’t heard her walk into their own apartment, thinking that they didn’t have any guests— fruitlessly calling out their names in an attempt to get their attention. A left-alone Marinette is a dangerous one, and while him and Adrien have always known, they’ve both definitely learned their lesson tonight. The poor woman was just looking to tell them she’d made them dinner and was dropping it off…
Maybe he can stage an emergency.
He was checking my dick, Luka’s mind first comes up with. Or, rather, we just needed to make sure that his ass was in order. He’d complained that he’d lost feeling…
Not working. But it’s better than just staring at her in the same way puppies or kittens do when they’re completely unsure on how to navigate the room. Even sweat drying against the nape of his neck, with his balls aching and begging to be soothed and a dick that is harder than granite while staring at her cleavage, the most uncomfortable thing is how her eyes glitter at them both. He imagines a paddle in her hand, or at least a firm scolding with a lot of ass slapping, scolding them for misbehaving. Maybe Adrien’s imagining it too, though more… sexually… because Adrien’s breath hitches.
They’re screwed.
The more she purses her lips— even bothers to pull on a single lock of hair that she has in that high ponytail fitting for a mother who’s been in the kitchen all night— it makes more and more sense why Adrien’s fingers are moving quicker and quicker on the fabric. Thank god for this blanket.
She breaks the silence. “Also, you’ll fart come bubbles out of your ass if you don’t use a condom.”
Luka does his best not to get whiplash. “Huh?”
“Come bubbles?” she narrows his eyes when he refuses to recognize what she’s saying. She sits herself down on their ottoman, and Luka does his absolute best not to watch that poor little stool flatten and warp underneath such an ass. “You’ve never had come leak out of your ass? It’s so uncomfortable, isn’t it?”
Luka is so brave. He’s the bravest man in the world.
“I remember when I had my first orgy back when I was younger and it happened to me the first time. I was so miserable on that toilet, come dripping out of me like a damp rag.”
“How younger?” Adrien blurts out.
“Good question. I can’t remember where my kid was left with, if I’d left him at his grandma’s, or…” She’s prone to doing this a lot. She seems to misplace her kid everywhere, this poor man. Luka’s never met him, but feels sympathy. There’s a bit of an airyness to Marinette. Something ditzy. It goes with her personality and the way she expresses herself: lots of pink, and elegant little jewelry, like this set she’s wearing now. A simple v-neck dress that gathers and flows at her ankles in an attempt to be summery even though nights in their city dip into chilly weather, and a dazzling little gold necklace with her favorite bead that has a stick figure of a little boy. No shoes on as she digs her feet into their rug, anklets jingling as she bounces all of her weight on her toes, because even though they don’t have that shoe rule in their apartment, she does it anyway.
“Oh, I remember! I didn’t have a baby at the time, because it was my first true sex experience. Everything else was… nothing compared to this.”
Luka does the quickest math he’s ever been able to do. “Oh. Nineteen… eighty seven?”
“Not sure. I don’t think it was even eighty five, though. It certainly felt younger.”
He blanches. That’s. That’s not even legal. “You went to an orgy without being of age?” he asks. It’s a pathetic little squeak, really. He’s still dealing with his hard-on.
“Well, it was the eighties,” she lobbies. Side-eyeing him when she realizes he knows her birth year. “Seventeen and all. Anyway. Where was I?” Finding her point again, she trudges forward. “Ah, right! Come bubbles.”
Adrien squirms. “Marinette, I would really love to have this conversation, I would, I of all people know the importance of sex education, but we—”
“—I really can’t have you two fucking without a condom.” She waves Adrien off. “You know what come bubbles are, don’t you, baby?”
He has the audacity to narrow his eyes. “Why are you asking me and not Luka?”
“Well, I… it’s—”
“Do you think I’m always getting fucked?” Adrien asks honestly, a smile sliding onto his face. “Because I assure you, I like fucking people.”
“Uhm.” Marinette pinks. She has freckles along with age lines on her face, and it’s a symphony of beauty as she blushes. It’s hard to find her doing it, somehow always keeping her cool even when she makes it as far as coming across them fucking each other silly in their private bathroom in their private apartment, but now the reality seems to be dawning on her.
There are two young naked men staring at her under a scratchy blanket.
She found them fucking.
She’d brought them dinner as usual, only to find them like this. Distantly, he wonders if the dinner is actually an offering of peace after she’d woken them up the previous week during finals with her Nutribullet and devastatingly thin walls that had Adrien knocking on her door and begging for reprieve. They’d sent their valiant soldier. She’d been adamant about him trying her new spinach-kale delight. Adrien had promptly come back home and decided that perhaps god was in fact found in morning smoothies, something starstruck and horny on his face. Mumbling something about being ordered to drink from her favorite glass straw, Adrien had only been able to relay the bare bones about how apologetic she was, before burying his face in Luka’s chest, talking about how even at six in the morning Marinette wears lipstick.
Adrien adores her lipstick. Just as much as he adores getting his ass railed in the bathroom, which was what Luka was attempting to do before this divine intervention.
“Well I’m sure you do, Kitty-cat,” she murmurs. “But you’re the one I found bottoming, baby. Without a condom. Were you going to come inside?”
“He usually does.”
“How do you deal with the come afterwards?”
Luka wants to die as Adrien answers: “Felching.”
“Oh,” Marinette answers. Wisely. Smartly. Wide lips made smaller. “I guess you can’t get come bubbles like that, huh?”
And here’s where Luka has to nip Adrien’s next sentence in the bud before it takes root. He knows that face. “Would you like me to prove how effective it is in—”
“—Marinette, we really don’t need the condoms,” Luka tries.
“Shoot,” she sighs, as if she hasn’t heard them. Biting a corner of her nail as she looks the two of them over like she’s trying to tell them apart. “I’d give you mine if I had any, but ever since I got my tubes tied, I haven’t needed them.”
Luka’s hand goes flying onto Adrien’s chest before he tries jumping off the sofa and pulling away the blanket from his dick.
#speakizys#for lack of a good tagging system i'll tag this as:#demon lovin#though it is not#this is NOT demon lovin but it's the ot3. so
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Choices: A Red Carpet Diaries Fan Fic
(Thomas Hunt x OC) inspired by Top Gun Maverick and taken from my A Second Chance AU
A/N: LOL! Okay. Everyone who looks at my fics/moodboards/etc knows that Jon Hamm is my FC for Thomas Hunt. Blame my eternal love of Mad Men, smh. Anyway, due to the violence and sadness going on in my current TRR Dark AU series and that bit of angsty fluff fic with Drake and Olivia and this last angsty one with Riley, I need some fluff, humor, family life, jealousy; all the stuff I normally write for a breather. And now that my husband is out of the hospital and well again (and life has finally calmed down, LOL) I needed a Thomas Hunt fic! I adore the action, romance, and cheesy 80s aspects of the first Top Gun. And yes, I will confess that I saw Top Gun Maverick twice the week it came out. But this sequel knocks it out of the park storyline wise. And maybe because they added a certain Mr. Jon Hamm to the mix makes it even better 👀 So in this fic of mine, it isn't Jon given the role of Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson. It is our beloved Mr. Hunt much to his wife's delight. And yes my OC, Amanda, is given my love of Top Gun and my own personal embarrassing story of what I used to do when playing the original's love song when single and dating as a teenager 🙈 Those poor guys never understood why I insisted on playing such an old soundtrack each date.
@hopelessromantic1352 @krsnlove @trappedinfanfiction @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @aworldoffandoms @tessa-liam @flyawayboo @moodyvalentinestories
Song Inspiration: Take My Breath Away
Masterlist
Going Method
"Cut!" Joseph yelled out. He had a big smile gracing his lips. "That is exactly the reaction I was looking for."
Thomas tried to be grateful for the compliment. It has been nearly two decades since he had stepped back in front of the camera. He knew the reason for deciding to act just this once was because of a desire to work with Joseph Kosinski. His fellow director impressed him with many of his previous films.
He'd also looked forward to finally being able to work with Tom Cruise. The two Hollywood icons tried for nearly fifteen years to find a free moment to collaborate on a film. Each time Thomas had a new project, it seemed that Tom was in the midst of filming a new sequel to his Mission: Impossible franchise or there wasn't a part right for the actor.
Everything about this should be perfect.
Though this was a sequel, and Thomas typically detested such, there was something about the script that drew him into the storyline. This wasn't your typical action movie. It had heart. It touched emotions he hadn't thought possible for a story about a bunch of hotshot pilots.
Thomas should be having the time of his life, instead of fighting a burning jealousy that could only be sparked by one person.
His wife.
Amanda had no idea how badly he wanted to punch Tom Cruise in his still too handsome face. Her reaction to hearing there was not only a sequel to, unknown to her husband, one of her favorite films but that Thomas would be taking part had taken him completely by surprise.
As Thomas made his way back to his trailer, he could still picture his wife's face when he told her he wanted her to come on location with him.
******************
A month earlier...
"I want it to be just the two of us." Thomas slipped his arms around her. "Rachel and Stephen agreed to watch Kathleen and the twins." He smiled softly at her. "We haven't had a vacation of sorts alone since our honeymoon."
"You know I would love that." Amanda leaned in to kiss him. "But we can't be away from the children that long."
"We'll have them visit." He responded. "If they miss us too much, then we will have them stay."
Amanda's smile twisted into a playful grimace. "We both know once Rachel and Stephen are here that you and I will be easily forgotten."
He snorted, shaking his head. It was true. Kathleen, Ian, and Elizabeth adored their aunt and uncle. Nothing made them more excited than getting special time with them. Most of the requests when they came by for a visit were for their parents to stay home while they went out with their fun loving relatives.
"Perhaps time away will make them remember they love us too." Thomas teased, pulling Amanda closer. "And give us a chance to show each other our own feelings."
"Don't you dare give me that look!" Amanda playfully scolded.
"What look?" His lips skated down her nexk
"You know very well which look." She met his lips in a long heated kiss. "That look plus kisses like that got me pregnant twice."
"Must be powerful." He mumbled, kissing her again.
"Very." She sighed softly as his hands moved along her curves. "You never told me what type of movie you will be starring in."
"Costarring." He reminded her. "It is actually a sequel to one of Tom's old movies."
Her fingers stilled in unbuttoning his shirt. "Oh? Which one?"
"Top Gun." He tugged her shirt up over her head.
"Top Gun!" Amanda squealed, pushing out of his arms.
Thomas stared at her in surprise.
"I love that movie!" She continued, smiling even more at the notion. "Are you his new wingman?"
"No." His eyes narrowed somewhat over her slight pout hearing that. "I play an admiral over the pilot school, Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson."
"Really?" Amanda sat down at the foot of the bed. "Does your character, Cyclone, like Maverick or do you disapprove of his actions and attitude?"
Thomas folded his arms. He could tell that all thoughts of romance had left by her simply sitting there being unusually inquisitive during his attempt at seduction.
"I disapprove." He grumbled, meaning it in more ways than one.
"I knew it." She nodded. "With your personality and voice, you would be serious and against Maverick."
His eyes narrowed. "Let me guess, you like his character?"
"Of course I do!" Her laughter over what was clearly a ridiculous question turned into a deep, heartfelt sigh. "Who wouldn't love him?"
So like is now love, he thought to himself.
"Do you think he will wear the outfit?" Amanda asked after a few moments of staring off into space.
"Outfit?
"You know?" Amanda prodded. "The Maverick look: blue jeans, tight white t-shirt, brown bomber jacket, and those aviator sunglasses." Her sigh was even louder than the one that came before it.
Thomas frowned while buttoning his shirt. "I don't know what he is wearing in the film."
"If I see him in person wearing that and riding his motorcycle..." Amanda shook her head with a dreamy smile as her voice trailed off.
"I take it you like this particular look." Thomas said with a sarcastic edge.
"It was my favorite look on a man for years." Amanda cut her eyes to her husband. "Right up until I saw you for the first time in a tuxedo."
Thomas stilled in his actions. "Really?"
She nodded, rising off the bed to wind her arms around his neck. "You made every other look and man fade away once I saw you."
His frown eased hearing that.
She pressed a long, tender kiss to his lips. Her hands slid down to start unbuttoning his shirt once more.
"Will you, by chance, be wearing any navy uniforms in this movie?" She bit down on her bottom lip when his kisses traveled along her neck and shoulders.
"I will." He cocked an eyebrow at her.
Her smile turned flirty. "I can't wait to see how you look in them."
His smile reappeared as her lips crashed back against his.
******************
He should have known when he first saw Tom in the stupid white t-shirt and blue jeans that his wife would be thrilled. He heard her slight oh the moment the actor pulled out the leather jacket and made his way over to them.
"You must be Amanda." Tom held his hand out, a big smile popping up.
"I am." Her own matching smile irritated Thomas. "It is so nice to finally meet you."
As the two talked, Thomas could only stand there both grateful for his own aviator sunglasses hiding his glare and cursing the eyeware to perdition because Tom slipped his on. Then he felt heat flare over him as the two walked toward a motorcycle, leaving him to trail behind.
"I know this isn't the GPZ from the first movie." Amanda said, eyeing the new bike. "Is it still a Kawasaki?"
"You know your bikes." Tom replied with a smile.
"I don't." She laughed. "I only know the one you rode in Top Gun." A blush crept up her cheeks. "When my uncle showed me the movie, it became a dream of mine when I was thirteen to ride on one."
"Would you like to try this one?" Tom asked.
"She doesn't know how to drive a motorcycle." Thomas quickly spoke up.
"Then how about I give you a ride?" Tom put the bomber jacket on, then swung his leg over the seat. "We've got some downtime before the next scene."
Thomas was already shaking his head while his wife was nodding hers.
"I'd love to!" She quickly got behind Tom.
Thomas stood there with his jaw dropped. His wife was asking where to put her feet and then where to hold on for safety.
"Just hold on tight to me." Tom told her, starting up the bike. "And lean into the curves."
"Wait!" Thomas struggled to speak. "Doesn't she need a helmet?"
They didn't hear him over the roar of the engine. Amanda wrapped her arms around Tom's waist, scooting much too close in her husband's opinion to the actor's back, and with a quick nod, they took off down the road.
Leaving Thomas fuming.
****************
Later that evening...
"That was the most thrilling ride I've ever been on." Amanda continued to gush. "I've been on motorcycles a few times in my life, but nothing will ever top that!"
Thomas blew the candles out at the table he had made certain was set for a romantic dinner for two. Their bungalow at the beach couldn't have been more perfect for a second honeymoon. Dinner with the waves hitting the shore in the background should have been pleasant.
If only Tom Crusie was not a part of it.
Amanda began to collect their empty dishes while continuing to talk about her teenage fantasy becoming a reality.
"To have him dressed like that while he drove me around was perfect." She sighed softly. "If only my sixteen-year-old self knew it would one day happen."
Thomas eyed her over the rim of his glass. "Sixteen?"
She nodded. Another blush covered her cheeks. "I used to fantasize that I could be the girl Maverick falls for. Takes on rides at night." Her smile turned a tad self-depreciating. "Kiss."
Thomas took a needed gulp of his drink. He welcomed the burn to keep his jealous words from tumbling out.
"I know what I'm about to admit sounds awful." Amanda tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, eyes averted from her husband. "But do you remember the love song in the first Top Gun?"
"Yes." Thomas cleared his throat. "Take My Breath Away."
Amanda's lips curved somewhat. "Gah. That song used to give me chills. When it plays in the movie, and Tom and Kelly start to make love..." She shifted nervously, "I used to play that when on a date."
Thomas frowned somewhat. "The film's love scene?"
"No. Take My Breath Away." Amanda finally looked up at him. "Remember, I was sixteen and well, I used to close my eyes and pretend the guy that was kissing me was Maverick."
Thomas didn't know how to respond. How had he managed to somehow end up in a movie with the one actor his wife not only fantasized about but also felt the need to tell him every detail of it.
"It makes me sound horrible." Amanda mumbled when she noticed the look of disbelief on her husband's face.
"No." He managed to say. "Like you said, you were young and most likely the young men you were dating at the time could have used an upgrade."
Amanda shook her head with a laugh. "It's true." Her smile was warm once again. "I suppose they too imagined I was someone else."
He doubted it.
She wound her arms around his neck. "So..."
Thomas quirked an eyebrow in silent question.
"We are all alone." She threaded her fingers through his hair. "No twelve year old or seven year olds knocking at the door." Her lips found his earlobe. "Whatever shall we do with this freedom?"
His arms locked around her. Eyes closed tight with the way she kissed him.
Thank God that song isn't playing somewhere, he thought to himself.
Her hands drifted down his body.
And then he couldn't think at all.
******************
The next few weeks went quickly. Thomas found himself gritting his teeth anytime his wife and co-star interacted. When it came time to perform his scenes, he had no trouble at all displaying the struggle of keeping his dislike at bay.
Tom and Joseph praised him for somehow conveying that dislike just below the surface.
"I gotta say," Tom patted him on the back after once scene, "that look you gave me was one that made me pause in wondering if you really can't stand me." He chuckled as he parted from Thomas and went into his trailer.
Thomas had to bite back that he wasn't acting, at least not in the sense he used to.
He was going full method for this role.
***************
During Thomas's last week to film for his scenes, a party was given in Tom's bungalow.
Amanda seemed more excited than usual on the days leading up to it. Thomas didn't ask why she was. The last thing he needed was another reason to be jealous. But the night of the party, he was unable to remain silent.
She was actually humming to herself while putting her makeup on. He couldn't remember a time she was this giddy to go out for a night of supposed revelry.
"You seem happier than usual." He grumbled as he stepped out of the shower.
"I do?" Her eyes found him in the reflection of her mirror. "I suppose I am."
He wrapped a towel around his waist, dreading to hear her reasons.
"I know that tonight marks our final days here." A smile played about her lips as she searched for her powder. "I've missed our home and daily routines. Having the children visit us was nice, but I can't wait to get back to them." She lifted her eyes to her husband's. "Though I have thoroughly enjoyed our alone time."
Thomas felt his dread disappear. It wasn't the fact she was about to see Tom Cruise or anything at all to do with her feelings for his character. She wanted what he wanted. To go home and return to the life they had together was still a shared dream.
He came up behind her, tilted her face up, and gave her a tender kiss. He felt her smile against his lips as her fingers tangled in his damp hair.
"You're making me want to be late to the party." She teased.
"You're wrong." He kissed her again. "You're the one making me want to forget about what time we should arrive." His hands grasped her waist, urging her closer as their kisses became more heated. "Hearing you say that you want what I long for in returning home makes it impossible not to kiss you."
She reluctantly stepped back with a frustrated moan. "We better stop while we still can." Her half-smile revealed how little she wanted to. "It would be rude of us not to be on time."
His hands slid inside her robe, pulling her closer than before.
"We'll be fashionably late." He whispered against her skin.
*********************
Perhaps it was the talk the two had or the fact that his skin still tingled from making love to Amanda an hour earlier, but Thomas was doing better at observing from across the room his wife in deep discussion with Tom Cruise.
Seeing Joseph as part of the conversation also helped him keep his jealousy at a low boil.
When she was pulled away by some of his costars, he decided to find out what they had been talking about.
"I bet your ears are burning." Tom teased.
"Burning?" Thomas asked.
"I think you married your biggest fan." Joseph explained. "She was just telling us how much she loves watching you in the scenes you were in."
"She did?" Thomas couldn't stop his smile from forming.
Tom shook his head with a laugh. "My feelings would be hurt if she wasn't married to you. She was blind to the rest of us as soon as you showed up in a scene." He winked at Thomas. "Thank God you weren't in every scene or else she wouldn't have been able to critique my own performance."
"I'd say that you are a lucky man," Joseph added with a grin, "but then that would mean we aren't as lucky as you."
"And we can't have that." Tom teased.
"No, I suppose not." Thomas mumbled, searching the room for his wife.
"She stepped outside in case you are wondering." Joseph pointed toward the patio door.
The two watched in amusement as Thomas hurried off without another word.
***************
He found her near the water. After all these years, he still loved how she would leave a party to get off by herself to think on things and the people she interacted with. He also loved that she never insisted they remain at said party until the bitter end.
He wrapped his arms around her, smiling as she immediately relaxed back against him.
"I was looking for you."
She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Looks like you found me."
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming out here?"
"You were talking to Tom and Joseph. I didn't want to interrupt." Amanda turned in his arms so she could slide hers around him.
"You," Thomas leaned down until he was barely brushing her lips, "are never an interruption."
She started to laugh when he drily admitted that she was a distraction though.
"I'll try to stop that." She said once calm.
"You better not." He muttered, finally kissing her.
"I'm going to miss this." She mumbled, once more barely brushing his lips with hers. "No interruptions while we sneak away."
"I thought you missed our three interruptions." He pressed her closer to his body.
"I do, horribly." She captured his bottom lip with her own causing him to suck in a surprised breath. "We will have to find a way to have both them and these rare moments alone."
"Agreed." His mouth slanted over hers, drawing a soft moan from her. "We'll have Rachel and Stephen over more often."
"Perfect." She stepped out of his arms.
He cocked an eyebrow at her when she held her hand out to him.
"Where are we going?" Thomas asked, allowing her to tug him further away from the party.
"Back to our bungalow." Amanda cast a coy glance towards him. "I have a very strong desire to be with my favorite actor from Top Gun"
"That better be me you're talking about." He yanked her back into his arms.
"As if there can be any doubt." She looped her arms around his neck. "You were the only one I visited the set for." Her eyes drifted down. "The one I found the most handsome in his uniforms." Her lips curved when she felt his body respond to her words. "The one I couldn't take my eyes off of whenever anyone else spoke."
"What about Tom?" He couldn't stop the question from tumbling out.
Her lifted back to his. "What do you mean?"
"He was playing your favorite character." He reminded her.
"So?"
Thomas grimaced somewhat. "Wasn't he able to steal your attention away from me?"
Amanda tilted her head in a manner that made him squirm as she silently studied him.
"Nevermi--" he started to say.
"Not once." She replied at the same time.
His eyes widened. "What did you say?"
"I said, not once." She returned to her former position of being close against him. "He doesn't even come close to holding my attention like you do."
"But you love Maverick." He reminded her
"True." She turned her head when she heard music begin playing. "Is that..."
Thomas felt his heart drop when he heard the familar song, Take My Breath Away, playing. He'd forgotten that his other costars were planning on using it to tease Tom. He could hear the laughter of the cast mixed with the melody.
Don't kiss me, he silently pleaded. Don't kiss me and think of Tom Cruise while you do it.
Amanda looked up at him with a playful, flirty smile.
"We should go." He mumbled as she inched closer.
"I'd rather have a kiss." She pressed her lips along his jaw. "Beau."
He stilled. "What did you call me?"
"Beau." She muttered between kisses along his neck. She leaned back to meet his shocked gaze. "Or would you rather I call you, Admiral, or your call sign, Cyclone?"
Thomas merely stuttered until her lips met his. He clutched her close when he realized what was happening.
The song, the very one her younger self used as daydream fuel of Tom Cruise while kissing, was now being used to think of his own character. Thomas didn't know he had anything left within him to fall more in love with his wife, but in this moment he could feel it happening.
He took over the kiss, determined to give her one that she would never forget. He tried to imagine how his character would react to having the woman he loved more than anything in his arms. Completely his. He used that inspiration to draw moans from her, glorying in taking her breath away.
How lucky could a man be to not only have his own dream girl to kiss in both real life and pretend?
#choices red carpet diaries#choices rcd#choices thomas hunt#thomas hunt x oc#thomas hunt x amanda#choices the stories you play#song prompt#movie prompts#play choices fanfic
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