#all of these women are mirrors to luke | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoenixkaptain · 2 years

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I can’t help but find something so fascinating about Legends’ Luke.

He grew up on Tatooine, a place I am still unconvinced has an actual school on it. He grew up somehow being optimistic on the worst planet in the known galaxy. Do you realize how bad Tatooine is? They have a Sarlacc Pit, they have two suns, they have a den of evil and corruption and villainy, and a Hutt lives there! And Luke is still an optimist!

But the way the novels especially portray Luke’s thought process is what fascinates me. Luke isn’t confident in his abilities. Luke doesn’t even fully understand his abilities. He has to figure out how to train Leia when he was barely trained himself. He has to figure out how to teach children when he doesn’t even understand what that would even entail.

He is nervous and he is depressed and he has moments where he thinks about old fights and gets more nervous. He’s also friends with Lando Calrissian, who for all intents and purposes set a trap specifically for Luke! Nobody else trusts Lando as much after that debacle, except for Luke, who apparently talks to him enough for Lando to teach him how to make hot chocolate.

Luke gave his father a second chance. His father who killed countless people and killed Luke’s friends and killed Luke’s family and Luke still believed that he could be good. So of course Luke gives Lando another chance, Luke is the King of Giving Out Second Chances.

There are parts where he just drifts. Where he’s alone and he feels lonely and he doesn’t want to do anything and the weight of everything feels like it’s crushing him. But, he still tries to convince Threepio and Leia that he’s fine. Leia can literally feel his emotions and Luke just tells her he’s fine. Luke tells everyone that he’s fine, when he really just feels lost.

Luke refers to Yoda as his Master and his friend. He considers Obi-Wan his Master and his friend, but more than that even, he loves Obi-Wan and is absolutely crushed when Force Ghost Obi-Wan tells him he’s leaving. Luke went through the most rushed and hurried Jedi training in the history of ever, but he still tries to remember what Yoda and Obi-Wan did. More, he tries to understand why they taught him the way they did. Were they pressed for time or was Luke really just that quick of a learner? Luke has no idea.

But, I think of Luke losing time, a lot. Where he’ll be doing something and he’ll blank out the whole memory. And yes, this is mostly referred to when Luke uses the Force, and I like to think it’s the Force letting Luke sit in the backseat while it drives for a few seconds or minutes. The point isn’t that though. The point is that he loses time and he doesn’t remember things and he doesn’t know how he can use the Force, he doesn’t understand why he can use the Force, and he can’t explain it to anyone, because Luke doesn’t really consciously use the Force that much.

I think we’re meant to assume that Luke is sort of always using the Force. I say this because from the very start back in 1976, we know that Luke would drive full tilt at canyon walls to pull away at the last second. We know that he had a somehow impeccable aim with a blaster. We know that he dodges attacks without even really comprehending why he’s moving. Luke is sort of always using the Force, especially as the movies go on to the Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. I don’t think Luke knows how not to use the Force, really.

We know that Jedi can hide themselves, even that early on, because Obi-Wan managed to hide his presence from Darth Vader while they were on the Death Star (for a while, at least, and even then, it’s implied that Obi-Wan slipped up for one second. Vader just noticed that slip up because he’s so familiar with Obi-Wan). But hiding himself from Vader is never really an option that Luke considers. He doesn’t know how to hide himself, he doesn’t know how to be anything other than a flashing beacon. Luke uses the Force so casually in Return of the Jedi, and maybe it’s strange, but I really think he can use it so easily because he’s always using it.

Luke dissociates and Luke zones out and Luke thinks about things that have nothing to do with his current dilemma and Luke’s aunt and uncle both died and Obi-Wan (who in the novel is described by Luke as practically being the desert. Luke associates him with Tatooine, because Ben has always been there, and therefore, on some level, Luke associates him with his home) dies and Luke has to shove all of that emotion down to do more action sequences. Luke believes in his father even when Vader is watching him be electrocuted and Luke tried so hard to save Vader by getting him off the ship and Luke burned Anakin in a pyre then went and smiled at Leia to tell her that he was fine.

Luke is a self-sacrificing character on a fundamental level. He does stupid stuff and he doesn’t really expect to live through it. We know this because he’s so excited to live through it. His assumptions were proven wrong, he’s still alive, and he didn’t see that coming.

Luke is also unlike every other Jedi we ever end up seeing. He has attachment because I honestly think that splitting up Force twins would be the equivalent of splitting an atom, so… Luke tries to speak around things, but he always ends up explaining in layman’s terms in the end. His plans are very clear cut, it’s obvious that Leia is the one who comes up with plans because Luke isn’t good at coming up with plans. (All of Luke’s plans are: jump in and hope for the best. Luke should not be allowed to plan anything, I’m hesitant to even let him try and plan lessons, honestly-)

Luke is kind of similar to mavericks like Qui-Gon, but Luke, for the most part, tries to stay in the lines? I cannot stress enough how law-abiding Luke somehow is, despite growing up on fucking Tatooine. Maybe a part of that is that Luke doesn’t have a Council to answer to, but I don’t know. While his actions feel kind of like Qui-Gon, Luke isn’t because Qui-Gon was obsessive and Luke just isn’t. Luke isn’t like Obi-Wan either, because Obi-Wan is one of the most pessimistic optimists in the whole series, and Luke is just an optimist. Anakin is based, later on especially, more on Luke, but Anakin honestly acts more like Leia.

Leia is the one who had a whirlwind romance with an older person, just like her father. Leia is the one who is a War General. Leia is the one who gets angry and irate and hides it beneath a very thin veneer. Leia is the one who talks back to people who want to see her dead. Leia is the one who was still casually chilling in her cell on the Death Star, after being tortured and before her scheduled execution. Leia is the character who chases after escaping figures without really stopping to think. Leia is like Anakin, and I can’t help but think that Anakin’s writing is purposefully based more off of Leia than Luke.

Luke isn’t like the Jedi Council, who answer to a Senate. The New Republic wants him to answer to him, but Luke up and ditches them to go to Dagobah multiple times. In fact, Luke never checks with the New Republic before going somewhere. He might check with Leia, but even then… Luke straight up is like “I’m going to Dagobah. Does anyone know? Of course not. That would be silly.”

Luke is so chaotic, honestly, when portrayed with the New Republic, because they ask him to do or not to do things and he does not listen.

They tell Leia “There’s no time for you to train as a Jedi.”

Luke says: “Dang, I better learn how to becoem a teacher quicker so I can teach you despite the leaders saying no.”

They say: “Luke, the Rebels are going to this rendezvous point, meet us there.”

Luke: “I’ll meet you there in a few months, give or take.”

They say: “Luke, you need to fly in formation.”

Luke: “I am going in, guns blazing, with only fifteen monutes experience driving a ship in outer space, and I am going to go for kills with no back up, and I’m going to encourage my friends to get out of bad situations while I get myself into worse ones, and I’m going to turn off my targetting computer and blow up the Death Star.”

And what can the New Republic even do?? Luke doesn’t have a position, outside of the nebulous “Jedi Master” and Luke doesn’t even have a Jedi Council, so they can’t complain to the Council, like they did in the good ol days and if they treat Luke too poorly or don’t listen to him enough or bother him in any way, Leia Organa Solo will descend upon them with the wrath of ten thousand men. And, to make matters worse, Luke doesn’t let this power go to his head, so they can barely even complain to each other!

The New Republic has literally zero control over Luke and Luke’s actions. They can suggest things and he might do them, but Luke has the power to do whatever he wants whenever he wants. They are lucky he’s loyal, or he would probably dip out mid-mission.

This fact alone makes Luke the strangest Jedi. Luke answers to no one. The Jedi had a Council for thousands of years, but Luke doesn’t. Jedi Masters perform some feat of strength and overcome great trials to reach their station. Luke wasn’t even the one to actually kill the Emperor.

If I were to liken Luke to anyone, maybe it would be Yaddle. Especially with Tales of the Jedi’s depiction of her basically making her a direct mirror to Luke. Yaddle is young, for her species. Yaddle became a Master (I cannot stress enough that this may not be canon anymore, but it was at one point and good God I want it to be so bad) by meditating in a prison for a hundred years. Yaddle is willing to find a way to forgive Dooku for all of his innumerous crimes and she wants to be there for him because she knows Dooku had a strong attachment to his Padawan. Luke is what I imagine Yaddle would act like without the Council. Or maybe, Yaddle is what I imagine Luke would act like with the Council.

But really, there’s no Jedi that acts the way Luke does. Even when they tried to make Rey into a Luke-type, it just didn’t turn out that way. Luke is self-sacrificing, yes. Luke is reckless, he is dumb, he zones out, and he gets attached. But, Luke wants to help people. And Luke has an undying loyalty. And Luke responds to problems in the same way Anakin did, minus all the wrecked ships.

He’s such a unique character, especially in Legends’, and I think what strikes me is that they clearly wanted Luke to be a small version of his father, in the beginning.

But, somehow, Leia still has more in common with Vader than Luke does. Leia and Vader both are the faces of their respective organizations, despite not technically leading. Leia and Vader are both feared when they’re angry. Leia and Vader are both unimpressed and unintimidated by Tarkin. Leia and Vader have parallels and they act as opposites, the obvious being Leia in white and Vader in black. But, there’s also Vader’s complete faith in the Force, and Leia’s line that force just leads to downfall. Even their heights, with Vader being so tall and Leia being so short. They are clearly narrative foils, but in the way that they are similar depsite their differences. They’re both leaders. They even both act arrogant with fake accent. I cannot stress enough that Leia and Vader are so clearly two sides of the same coin, especially in A New Hope. Even down to them both getting excited when they realize Obi-Wan is aboard (albeit for different reasons…)

Luke just doesn’t have that with Vader. I feel like we as a culture are so aware of the twist in the second movie, that we just know it’s coming and so don’t think about Luke’s similarities. The only similarities they really share are that Luke looks like his dad and Luke pilots like his dad. Oh, and Luke has the Force like his dad. They’re both from Tatooine. I suppose you could call Luke’s unwavering faith in Vader’s goodness a reference to Vader’s unwavering faith in the Force. Luke does wear dark colours too. But those are things that come later!

In the first movie, the similarities are just looks, Tatooine, piloting. Luke is inherently innocent in the first movie in a way Vader or Anakin are never portrayed. It’s hinted in the novel and deleted scenes that the Lars family is poor, but just looking at the first movie and novel for reference, there’s no evidence really there to support the idea that Anakin grew up poor. Anakin went off to train with Jedi and fight in a war. Luke also runs off to train with Jedi and fight in a war, but even their motivations are different. Luke only leaves when there’s nothing left for him on Tatooine. Anakin probably could have returned at any point and Owen and Beru would’ve just shrugged and let him stay.

I just, I know Luke is supposed to be a mini version of his father, but it doesn’t feel like Vader was supposed to be that father, in A New Hope.

But, I’ve gotten sidetracked. Luke is a strange character. He dissociates. He cut off Vader’s hand and went “Yeah. I feel like we’re even now. I’m content.” He wonders how he can teach Leia and then dissociates for twenty minutes while using the training bot. He made Leia a lightsaber. He barely ever listens to any authority figure, but he almost always listens to Leia. He can understand binary and is fond of Artoo and Threepio. His best friend was the Force Ghost version of Obi-Wan. He considers Yoda his friend. He strangled a Gamorrean guard to death. He has a friendship with Lando Calrissian that is apparently very strong, but you almost never see them even stand next to each other. He and Leia are so ridiculously intuned to each other that they respond to each other’s thoughts and they can tell if each other is alive even when Leia’s on planet and Luke’s on the second Death Star. Luke probably would have had a similar bond with Vader, but he tried to keep it closed off. Leia gets pregnant with Force-sensitive twins and Luke’s first thought is “How am I going to train these children when I don’t know how to teach???”

Luke is so weird. He’s so strange. He’s absolutely adorable. He’s unlike any other Jedi in the series, and he found the stew Yoda made to be quite tasty, actually.

(Also, speaking of Yoda. Luke shimmied around Yoda’s little house, careful not to break anything, and he ate some stew and he had a talk and then he goes “Wait a minute, why am I sitting here with you? I was looking for Master Yoda >:/“ He got distracted, he got sidetracked, I occasionally jokingly say that Anakin has ADHD but actually it isn’t a joke and Luke definitely isn’t neurotypical either, Luke was just having a gay old time with the weird green man who introduced himself by stealing Luke’s stuff.)

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sol-insidious · 23 days

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Bringing my two cents to the (in)famous Luke "Chanel Boots" Skywalker joke because I actually have weird thoughts about Luke and fashion tropes that go beyond haha gay blonde twink like luxury brand.

Thinking about Luke's characterization and fashion as a narrative device. The significance of Luke leaving Tatooine with literally nothing but the clothes on his back and donning Corellian Bloodstripes at the end of A New Hope.

Thinking about Luke's wardrobe gradually transitioning from lighter colors to black throughout Episodes IV-VI.

Thinking about the sheer intentionality of Luke having an all-black wardrobe in Return of The Jedi onwards. Is it to honor his father? To mourn him? To remind himself of who he could be and who he already is? All of the above? Thinking about the deliberate asymmetry of Luke's single black glove. Thinking about the white flap on his chest.

Thinking about Padmé and how she was molded into fashion since birth, the extravagance of her outfits and makeup as an Amidala. Thinking about how Luke seems to mirror her regal anonymity with his cloaked grim reaper fit. Thinking about Luke's disconnected relationship with his late mother and wondering if he ever felt the same level of restrictive empowerment she did when she wore her gowns.

Thinking about the nuances of queer fashion and how it can equally be as empowering and restrictive to the wearer.

Thinking about the white and orange prison uniforms in Andor and the colors of the Rebel Alliance.

Thinking about my old Modernist Literature professor who wrote her thesis on the colors of stockings in D.H. Lawrence's fiction and how women characters chose to wear bright stockings under their long, billowing skirts that no-one else but themselves could see. Thinking about the color pink in Legally Blonde. Thinking about reading dress and fashion as a legitimate pathway to literary analysis. Thinking about the utter significance of Luke's entire outfit. All of his outfits.

Thinking about those damn Chanel Boots.

#star wars #luke skywalker #star wars meta #fandom meta #fandom thoughts #sol rambles #ABSTRACT: DON'T WORRY MR SKY WALKER I SAW YOUR CHANEL BOOTS #Discussion: *this post*#are they random riding boots Luke yoinked for practicality and just kept on wearing them?#did he actually splurge on nice boots as a reflection of his reformist Jedi values?#I find either of those interpretations equally as valuable #I love your fashion choices pookie

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thissccounthatesfascists · 9 days

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TL asleep? cool.

(long post, strap in)

i wanna talk about colin's wet dream. that was the most demisexual shit i have EVER seen. there's not even any sex. its just a romanticized, elevated version of their first kiss. its colin's subconscious wanting to replay the moment he fell in love with his best friend in the Most way possible.

lets break it down:

we got the same location of their first kiss. Complete with mood lighting and a fog machine. It’s giving pride and prejudice 2005

Penelope comes out (looking gorgeous, of course) to their rendezvous spot, which has been previously agreed on.

colin thanks her for meeting him, she doesn't know why he's asked her to come

he confesses his feelings for her

she reciprocates (this is the important part of this to me. ) her wanting him, makes him want her more (do you see where the demisexual colin energy is coming from? do you understand?)

they make out

he kisses her neck as she pants his name over and over (see my point above re: her wanting him makes him want her more)

he wakes up, absolutely shook

this is an idealized reimagining for colin: during their first kiss he was basically in shock, his new personality chokes on the reality and vulnerability of the moment

in the book he talks about how he tries to think of something witty to say but finds that no words are necessary, and there's no combination of witty banter or suave bravado that could help in that moment. the rake persona that he has put on up to this point absolutely fails him. but here, in this dream, words are crucial, the declarations of love are why its sexy! (demi colin is canon idc idc)

and its so important that this wet dream, the idealized version of this scenario happens like this. because we've also seen colin having sex with sex workers (and luke newton has talked about this) but his energy in those scenes is very detached, very focused on him and his pleasure with zero connection to the women he's with. he has two different threesomes (if you can even call the second one that, he's barely even looking at them) with four different women and we know nothing about these girls. they don't even get names. they don't matter, and its simply not. as. good. as the feeling of kissing pen. there is no connection

which is, i think, why he taps out during the threesome in ep4. he tries to go back to the devil-may-care attitude toward sex and intimacy that he had before kissing pen, he tries to return to that mask he put on of "the rake" and it just doesn't work! he feels nothing! in fact he feels disdain for the position he's in and the choices he's made!

the threesome in ep4 mirrors the outburst he has later at the club really well. like he's so frustrated with this position he's put himself in, the men he's surrounded himself with. he literally says "none of you are gentlemen!" "you're actually gross and disrespectful!"

a line that i love is :

"... it is tiring, is it not? The necessity imposed on us to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning. Do you not find it lonely?"

and they laugh! in! his! face! because these are men that feel perfectly fine sleeping with strangers and bragging about their "conquests" to their buddies

but that is not who colin is! he's still very young. and his experience with marina (who tried to seduce him and it didn't work, imo bc he just didn't feel that passion, that love that makes his relationship with penelope so different) has left him jaded, but not nearly as jaded as he wants to believe. even if he wants to be casual about romance and sex, he just isn't. this man proposed to marina after knowing her for what? a couple weeks? He is an All or Nothing type of guy. He has that Bridgerton 'when i fall in love i will only ever talk about my spouse' Gene

Now: some costuming details that i love:

Her hair:

(i know this is a stretch but go with me here) her hair is in slightly tighter curls than we've seen this season, which to me seems like a nod to colin liking (or at least not minding) her hair the way it was in previous seasons and maybe not caring as much as we might think about her transformation. but its still down and flowy and in line with her new style

let's talk about this! dress! (it has genuinely been keeping me up at night)

the sleeves seem much more similar to the silhouettes of her costumes in previous seasons, not necessarily in shape but in style

the sleeves are bulkier, compared to this season's costumes, which while they might have been the same size and shape, they are made of much lighter material, giving the silhouette a softer, more mature feeling.

compare it to this dress from s3 ep2: it looks very similar with the sleeve shape and the floral appliqués, but in the dress in the image above, the appliqués are much more obvious, closer to penelope's style under her mother's tastes

the point i'm trying to make here will be made more clear in a sec. what I am NOT trying to say that colin prefers her in her little girl dresses with loud designs, bright colors, and silly hairdos. he just associates those bigger, brighter, louder style choices with penelope.

And he has always liked Penelope. Even when he didn’t take her seriously as a potential partner, he always saw her as an equal. He never made fun of her silly dresses and questionable hair choices.

This has nothing to do with Colin but i feel like i should point it out:

there is something to be said about how her muted pastel color palette along with the more demure style that she has adopted shows that she is trying to Show Up with this social season, but as a wallflower, she is shy. she's always hated those brightly colored dresses her mother put her in, because no matter how close to the wall she clung, she was always visible. she was always vulnerable to ridicule.

but i don't think colin knows or realizes this because why would he think critically about the specific style changes she's made. and he probably doesn't really make the connection of the influence her mother has on her clothing. and around him, pen has never seemed all that shy. she's been confident and witty. if you pair her personality that shines around colin with her louder outfits, it seems more congruous

(take the scene from season 2 where we get the line "My purpose shall set me free") this is a side of penelope that no one, not even eloise!, sees

what his subconscious knows is that he associates pen with vibrant, textured, and often 3-dimensional outfits, and his subconscious creates a dress that fits her new style, with a little more of that featherington flair thrown in.

the fucking tie in front: i feel like this is a very clear reference/ foreshadowing to the mirror scene

for those of you who haven't read the book, the mirror scene doesn't actually happen, but colin tells penelope about a fantasy he has about touching her in front of a mirror

this is a pretty small offhand comment made while they're having sex for the first time but amongst book fans the scene has become pretty fleshed out i think, with fanfics especially

because the idea that it touches on is colin fantasizing about penelope seeing herself the way he does, as sexy and desirable (he seriously cares about her pleasure so much its sickening, I'm actually sick)

and although Book Colin doesn't mention it, the idea of him undressing her in front of a mirror has become a popular story set-up

i think the tie in the front sort of plays on the time period sensibilities of propriety: this is a time where in "good" society an unmarried man and woman would never touch skin to skin, its why all the women wear gloves most of the time. its why the scenes in season 1 between daphne and simon play on the excitement of removing the gloves: its a taboo thing

this is unrelated to this post but i need an explanation as to why pen isn't wearing gloves in a lot of her scenes this season, like the scandal that that would cause??? I'm assuming its representative of her growing into her sexuality; and bridgerton is a fantasy, not a historical nonfiction, but like some consistency would be nice guys bc i was so confused abt all the skin-on-skin contact happening. even with Francesca and Lord Samadani WHEN HE KISSES HER BARE HAND I WAS SO UNCOMFORTABLE FOR HER. especially because of all the glove-related tension in s1. but i digress.

so the tie in front is sort of a dare. even though its clearly an addition, and untying wouldn't actually remove her dress, its her (colin's subconscious version of her anyway) way of saying: "you could untie this, you could undress me if you wanted to" "i love you" "i want you"

and i think that's beautiful. this season is great and i will die on this hill.

If you've made it this far, congrats! you're just as feral as me! come and gnaw on the drywall with me while i post fanfics inspired by this season: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55988977/chapters/142190584

chapters 1+2 of my new fic are up

photos are from : https://www.cap-that.com/bridgerton/302/index.php?image=bridgerton3x02_1502.jpg

#colin bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #penelope featherington coded #polin #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton meta #costume design #demisexuality #demisexual representation #demisexual colin bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 analysis #romancing mister bridgerton #romancing mr. bridgerton #adaptation analysis #some historical context analysis as a treat for me specifically

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sunlightmurdock · 7 months

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The Odyssey | 0.9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You arrive in Venice, and reach a breaking point of sorts.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, explicit pictures, smut f receiving, 18+ minors dni, wc: 6.8k

…

His lips are on your neck. Kissing you slowly, his mouth spreading like fever along your throat and down your chest. He’s between your legs. Your thighs bracket his hips, his hands are trailing along your bare legs.

Each time he sucks softly at your throat, you make the same delicious little sound. Barely audible. Just for him. The sweetest little whine, so eager for more. Sweat beads along the valley between your collarbones, chased by the hot muscle of his tongue. It’s not a summer kind of heat.

It’s crackling from the living room still and the smell of wood burning fills his fourth floor apartment. It smells like November.

His shirt and shoes are on the floor and yours is unbuttoned, hanging off your shoulders. His thumbs trail along the joint where your hips meet your legs, then squeeze, pulling you tighter against him.

Your hands trail over his shoulders, skin against skin as your skirt bunches pliantly around your hips. Along the nape of his neck, brushing softly against the trimmed hair at the back of his head. Soft breaths, fanning against his bare throat.

His mouth reaches the space between your breasts and you keen into the feeling, stretching into his touch. Salt on your skin, sweetness from your perfume, the warmth of your mouth. It all feels so real.

But he knows it isn’t. You have never been here, in his bed — back in his home outside of Ithaca. His mind conjured the image without prompt, this perfect scene of you nestled into his sheets, half-dressed like this.

His fingers curl into the sides of your cotton underwear, his mouth sucks softly at the flesh of your breast and your fingers freeze against his skin. Then, they pull back and shove at his shoulders. Panicked, pushing at him like a trapped animal.

“Don’t. Bradley, don’t. Please don’t.”

Bradley wakes up cold in a way that doesn’t reflect the temperature. He packs the room silently, dodging Luke’s morning small talk. He’s the last down to the lobby, the fog in his brain this morning feels like it’s weighing him down.

He collects the room keys and completes the paperwork, then follows his class out to the bus where Pasquale is already helping them load their luggage once again. It’s a beautiful day out. It takes him a second to spot you.

Leaning in through the side door of the bus and wedging a bag under your seat. You’re bent at the waist and wearing white tailored shorts that hug your waist. He almost shivers at the scene his mind had conjured up.

“You okay, Bradley?” Abigail asks, reaching out and resting her fingers against his elbow. “You look kinda lost.”

“I’m fine. Thanks. Everyone hurry up, let’s hit the road already.”

Without a word, he walks past you and enters the passenger side. After your argument last time, you presume that you’ll sit in the back with everyone else again, and he doesn’t stop you.

It’s not a long drive but it takes him twenty minutes to finally glance up at the rear view mirror. You’re sitting behind him, staring out of the window with your headphones on your ears, nodding your head to the beat.

He turns his attention back to the road quickly. Before you have a chance to notice him. He’s dreamt of women before. He’s had dreams that felt real before. He hasn’t ever been left feeling like this before.

Every sexual encounter that Bradley has ever had, the lines have been very clear. It has always been an enthusiastic yes. Even when he lost his virginity on his seventeenth birthday in the back of his mother’s station wagon and Naomi had been out after curfew — she might have been terrified of her father finding out where she was, but she was all over Bradley.

Taking the lead hadn’t ever been a problem, his actions had always been very well received. Bradley isn’t a creep. He respects women, he likes deep conversations, he knows how to handle his emotions most of the time and he’s good in bed.

The dream plagues his mind. Visions of that terrified look in your eye. The sound of your pleading. He’s not sure what his subconscious was trying to teach him. He analyzes it like literature.

You were there. That part makes sense. Especially after yesterday. You’ve been thinking about your feelings for him, it makes sense that his feelings for you would be on his mind.

But you weren’t here. You were in his bed, in New York. You’ve never been there before. He would never let a student come over to his place. But location is the least of his worries.

Your blouse was white. He has seen you in it before, he just can’t place from where. It was unbuttoned all the way. Open down the middle and dangling off of your shoulders. You weren’t wearing a bra. Because he saw you in that nightdress last night, he’s sure. Images of your nipples perked and hard are easy to conjure with how often he has thought of them in the last twenty-four hours.

He hasn’t ever seen you naked, but the image in his head seems right — it had seemed so real. Living, breathing flesh, right there in front of him.

Next comes him reaching under your skirt, curling his fingers around the sides of your underwear. The panic in your voice, the way your body had turned rigid. Like you had been afraid that he just wouldn’t listen when you asked him to stop.

It’s all in his head. He’s sitting here, sweating over a situation that hasn’t even happened, and he’s still stuck on the most important aspect. Why.

It’s not because Bradley is afraid that he wouldn’t stop. There’s no risk of that. He wouldn’t dream of it, the idea makes him sick. Which means that it’s you. Something in him has him scared to death of seeing this situation play out again, and him not waking up this time.

Sex hasn’t ever been a big deal to him. Whether it happened or it didn’t. Where, or when. It didn’t ever matter much. But to you, it clearly does.

Regret. Realization hits him at once. His gaze flickers up to the rear view mirror once more. After reading the letter yesterday. After the evening in your room.

Sex is where this is leading. Kissing. Hanging out in your room alone. It’s where this will lead eventually, and you’re going to wind up regretting it. That’s what he’s afraid of.

He exhales deeply and rests his chin against his palm, turning his face toward the window. It’s selfish to want more. That doesn’t stop him from shifting in his seat, letting his hand slide slowly around the back of his seat.

You flinch as his fingers brush your knee, broken from your daydream. Glancing down, you watch him squeeze the apex of your calf muscle softly, brushing his thumb over your skin once, twice and then withdrawing his hand.

Turning your head, you look to the rear view mirror and find him already watching you. Your lips twitch, almost pulling into a smile. He shoots you a quick wink. Then, you look back out of the window with warm cheeks and a little smirk on your lips.

Finally, Bradley looks back to the notes that he had compiled from Verona, sitting on his lap, and exhales. He can focus.

Venice really isn’t that far. Before he knows it, Pasquale is pulling into a parking space and the doors of the minibus are open. Settling his papers back into their folder, Bradley reaches for the door handle and stops.

In front of him is the woman he spent five years loving. She’s crossing the street with her arm looped through a much older man’s. It takes Bradley a second longer to recognise him.

Andrea Mancini. He was Bradley’s landlord in Sorrento. He’s also a professor of Classics, and a pioneer in his field. Suddenly Natasha being here makes a lot more sense — she’s with the man who introduced them. Andrea always liked her.

She doesn’t notice him, her head thrown back in laughter as the two of them continue across the road and into a cafe.

Three days in Venice. He wonders to himself if, between you and Natasha, he’ll make it that long.

Still, everyone already thinks that something is going on with him after he wandered out to the car like a zombie this morning, he needs to get his shit together. He steps out of the car onto the sidewalk, stretching his neck as he looks around.

His eyes land on you, facing away from him with your film camera plucked from your bag and aimed towards the street ahead. His brows knit together slightly as he watches Abigail approach you. She taps gently on your shoulder and your head whips around to look at her.

“Did you want me to take your picture?”

Tugging his bag from the storage up onto his shoulder, he just watches as your eyes widen in surprise. His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t let himself smile as you dumbly hand her the camera and take a few cautious steps back.

Over Abigail’s shoulder, you catch Bradley watching you and your cheeks burn. A smile tugs at his lips, nodding for you to go ahead. You swallow, tilting your head and smiling at the lens like he isn’t there. You’re so sheepish under his gaze. Finally, he grins across at you, pushing a hand into the front pocket of his blue jeans.

Once the keys are handed out, Bradley gives all of his students free reign of the city — the itinerary doesn’t kick in until tomorrow, they’re free to do as they wish until dinner at eight. Given that Bradley has work to catch up on, you’re left to your own devices too.

On this particular day, the tides are low and the city smells like the ocean. Salty, sure, but not humid and sticky like the family trips down to Charleston you had taken as a child. Narrow alleyways that are smaller than your own wingspan. Bridges upon bridges. Tall, practically ancient buildings with long, arched windows.

You spend your afternoon wandering between cafes and buildings, street markets and cathedrals. It’s a beautiful place and you can already picture how Malcolm will react to your pictures here. It’s late afternoon and you’re between streets when you stumble across a boutique that you hadn’t yet crossed. The only thing that catches your eye is a flash of sleek, dark hair.

Turning your head, you notice Natasha standing at the cash register. Poised, her head is held high and her shoulders squared. She has a polite smile on her face. It’s then that you notice where she is — where you are. Standing outside of a boutique that specializes in bespoke Italian lingerie.

Narrowing your eyes, you watch as the cashier hands her a cute little designer bag with a bow at the top. But, you don’t have time to stare. You walk ahead, directed back to the hotel to change before dinner. Bradley is the first one at the restaurant, with Pasquale sitting at his side.

“Ah! — Natasha!” Pasquale waves, straightening up in his seat with a grin on his face. Bradley damn near gives himself whiplash turning his head. “I ran into her earlier, I invited her to eat with us?”

“You did what?” Bradley gawks.

There she is, standing in a form-fitting red dress, strutting towards him in black heels. Behind her, Bradley spots you standing in the doorway in a cute white geometric wrap dress, your mouth hanging open. Fuck. This entire thing feels like a game of chess. You sit directly opposite him, and Natasha’s sitting directly at your side. Every single move feels dangerous.

“So, Natasha, how do you and Bradley know each other?” Robin asks.

Bradley watches you roll your eyes and knock back a sip of wine. He joins you in your sentiment as Natasha nudges her elbow against his. Natasha’s smile is so effortless, so beautiful.

“We studied together. I introduced Bradley to Classics when he got out of the Navy.” She explains calmly.

“Bradley was in the Navy?” Abigail gasps from the end of the table.

“Yes! Here,” Natasha turns and grabs her bag, pulling it into her lap and starting to dig through it. She still hasn’t said a single word to Bradley directly yet, but the eyes that she’s making across the table at him tell him everything about how she’s expecting this to go. Oddly, Bradley doesn’t feel quite as self-destructive as he normally does when she’s around. She plucks a small photo wallet from her bag and opens it up. “Look.”

There he is. Watching through the grainy photograph is a twenty-year old Bradley. He’s leaning back against a plane, with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a smirk on his face that makes you that little bit more into him. He’s head to toe in his uniform. Younger, sure, with tidier hair, but he looks very much the same. Moustache, muscles, mean look on his face.

Natasha flashes a few pictures from the album, but you’re paying more attention than most. Bradley engages to a polite level, discussing their various study trips with the group as Natasha displays pictures of them. You narrow your eyes, chin propped up on your fist.

She’s careful with her little album. She will happily display any of the pictures in the wallet, but her pinkie finger is tabbed against a page near the back, keeping it from popping open. Hiding something. Lingerie. Photos of him when he was young. Secret pictures.

You’ve had enough.

It’s after you’ve eaten that Natasha is called to the bar by an old friend. Apparently she has a lot of those. You’re left alone, her purse sitting on the seat beside you, wide open.

You swallow softly, glancing up to check that she’s still standing over by the bar, then back at the Polaroid album in her bag. She stopped three pictures early. You’re reaching out before you have the common sense to stop.

The black leather cover folds back far too compliantly and once again you’re met with that grainy picture of Bradley in all green, short sleeves rolled up around his biceps, smiling at the camera around a thin cigarette.

Another quick glance towards the bar, you confirm that Natasha’s still over there. But you fail to check on Bradley. He’s frowning across the table at you, wondering what you’re staring at.

You’re busily flipping through the album. You can’t help the curiosity. You’d seen the magnetism between them up close back in Como.

All of a sudden, your suspicions are confirmed. You’re not looking at photos of historical sites anymore. Tucked away at the back, is first a picture of Natasha laying on her back amidst unmade sheets and pillows. She’s grinning at the camera through her dark eyelashes, wearing nothing but a black silk bra topped with white lace. Bracketing her ribs, are a man’s knees. You know wordlessly that Bradley’s the one behind the camera. Those are his thighs.

Your mouth feels dry, but you turn the page anyway. Bradley watches your eyes widen across the table. You stare at the picture of Natasha’s naked chest. She’s pushed up on her palms this time and her smile is gone, she’s staring right at the camera lens with a dark, sultry gaze. Her breasts are full and round and there’s not a single tan line on them. She still sunbathes topless now.

Bradley leans one elbow on the table and looks around him before drawing just slightly closer to see what’s got your attention. His eyes blow wide open in immediate recognition.

He remembers that exact day, and that brown Polaroid camera. It was a week and a half before Natasha left him.

But it’s too late, you’re already turning to the last page, and Bradley knows exactly what is going to be in that photo slot. He shoots a look over to Natasha at the bar, then back at you. Pasquale’s sitting right next to you. Bradley swings his foot under the table and kicks it into your calf.

You gasp sharply, and not because he just swung his size thirteen Converse tennis bland into your leg. The kick, though, does make you jump enough to drop the small photo album.

Bradley’s chair scrapes across the floor loudly as he ducks down to retrieve it from under the table. You follow him down, it’s closer to you.

Finally, he meets your gaze, under the table cloth in this busy restaurant, his cheeks swelling to a deep blushed red. Adam's apple bobs in his throat. You stare across at him. Lips parted, just blinking. He curls his fingers around the photo album and snatches it from the ground, sitting back upright in his seat.

Numbly, you follow his lead and withdraw from under the table. Not only is everyone now staring directly at you, but Bradley’s staring at something behind you. You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut as Natasha moves her purse from her seat and sits down once again.

Bradley shoves the photo album into his pocket.

“You okay, Bradley?” Zoey frowns at his side, glancing between him and you.

“Yeah. Fine.” He answers, clearing his throat and reaching out for his wine glass. You’re barely breathing, watching him gulp back Pinot Grigio like it’s water. Zoey’s attention then turns to you. You just exhale and turn your chin towards the ceiling.

There’s no way that you can bear to look at either Natasha or Bradley now. Or maybe ever again.

Bradley feels the photo album practically burning a hole in his pocket. Natasha shouldn’t have brought these photos. Truthfully, Bradley didn’t even think she still had them. And, of all of the people at this table, you’re probably the last person he would have wanted to see them.

The third picture was of Natasha sitting up in their shared bed, wearing a pair of black silk underwear. Her eyes hooded lustfully, her red lips wrapped around the tip of Bradley’s dick.

Bradley hits the bottom of his wine glass and sets it down on the table, exhaling deeply. Through his burning embarrassment, he feels eyes on him. It’s either you or Natasha and he doesn’t want to look at either one of you just yet.

It feels like it all takes far too long. Everyone’s just having a great time, and Natasha’s got plenty of interesting stories. She was always charismatic.

Bradley’s just staring at the artwork behind your head and wondering if she kept their video tape too. He swallows dryly at the thought. Finally, the bill is settled and the party begins to file out of the restaurant and onto the cobbled street.

The first inhale of cool air is cut short as Bradley feels an arm loop through his. Natasha presses herself against his side and looks up at him, opening her mouth to speak. Bradley isn’t looking at her. He’s watching you watch her.

Swiftly, you press your lips together and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel.

“We should catch a show or something while we’re here.” Natasha says to the group. Bradley threads his arms out of her grasp as she’s met with a round of agreement from his student.

“Let me check that she gets home okay. I’ll meet you at the theatre.”

“We haven’t decided which show we’re seeing.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Bradley’s already waving her off and heading down the dark street after you. The sound of your heels on the cobble gives you away, he’s able to catch up to you quickly.

“Slow down, stop,” Bradley’s fingers curl around your shoulder gently, trying to guide you to a stop. You shrug out of his touch, eyes focused ahead, without faltering in your pace. “Honey — talk to me, look at me.”

Embarrassment surges through you. Thinking of Bradley tonight. Natasha, alone in her expensive penthouse suite. Natasha’s husband must not know why she’s here. She wouldn’t be staying in such luxury if he did. She wouldn’t be if he saw those pictures.

You can picture it now. Thick, heavy curtains and exceptionally soft, white sheets. Your mouth tugs into a small frown at the thought of the king-sized bed in that room.

Bradley’s following behind you still, trying to get your attention, tugging gently at your arm and begging you to stop and talk to him. You’re paying no attention. You just can’t stop thinking about the two of them together.

Bradley’s heavy hand gripping the headboard, his broad shoulders squared in front of it and Natasha under him. Wearing lingerie that her husband paid for, her hands in Bradley’s hair and her deep lipstick smeared on the thick column of his throat.

You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have sex with her tonight. Not when… — fuck, that thought is even more ridiculous than the first. Of course he would. He has before, many times, and there’s no way you would be the one thing to stop him.

Unless. The thought strikes you like lightning, and it seems to be the lightning itself that makes you spring into action. You turn and catch the back of his neck, tugging him down into a stony kiss.

“Don’t sleep with her tonight.” You breathe against his mouth, pressing your chest into his, kissing him again. Bradley’s brows draw together as his hands find your waist. “I’ll do it. I’ll — I’ll let you have sex with me, just don’t go to her.”

“What?” Bradley gawks, his hands holding your hips tight as his eyes search over your face.

You chase his mouth, fingers trailing over the hair at the nape of his neck. “Please.”

He turns his head, feeling you kiss softly at his cheek in an attempt to gain his attention again. He sighs, dropping his hand from your waist and linking his fingers through yours. “Come with me.”

It’s a short walk, through dark streets. He would have never let you walk this distance by yourself. It’s not cold tonight. It’s warm enough outside that you wouldn’t need a jacket. And yet, Bradley can feel your hand trembling against his.

Swallowing dryly, your heartbeat is in your ears as Bradley leads you through the hotel lobby and silently into the elevator. He hits the third floor and it illuminates. You press your lips together, staring at the dark wood on the inside of the doors.

Neither one of you says a thing. You glance briefly down at the way his hand eclipses yours. The way he’s holding on to you. Your heartbeat rattles on, slow now but heavy. Just like your breathing.

The doors open with a ding and Bradley doesn’t hesitate in walking out, his grip on your hand taking you along with him. Trembling from head to toe, you follow him to your hotel room. He turns and stares at you expectantly outside of the door, dropping your hand.

You fumble around in your bag for the key and produce it, handing it silently over to him. Bradley presses it into the lock, twists and then pushes the door open.

“Go ahead.” He tells you.

You glance up at him, finding his face calm and collected. Pressing your teeth into the inside of your bottom lip you step around him and into the hotel room.

It’s cold, and empty. You had left the window open before you had left the room for dinner. Bradley closes the door behind you as you flick the lamp beside the bed on.

“So… how do you want—“

“Stop talking.” Bradley tells you, standing with his back pressed to the door. He inhales deeply and then exhales. Your eyes widen as he pushes away from it and starts towards you. He steps past and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Sit down, and listen to me.”

You stare at him. He shoots a look towards his parted thighs and then back at you, lifting his eyebrows expectantly. You drop your shoulder bag to the floor and let him guide you down against his thigh.

He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off of your face, searching your features for some kind of clarity. He’s feeling out of sorts himself, after the polarity of his day. Waking up with you begging him not to, sitting now with you telling him that he can — but he knows you don’t mean it. You’re terrified that he won’t see right through you.

“I’m sorry that you saw those photos,” Bradley tells you calmly. He leans forwards and presses his lips to your cheek as his palms snake around your middle. He squeezes softly at your waist, resting his chin against your shoulder. “I didn’t know she still had them.”

“I don’t want to talk about Natasha.” You tell him, pulling back to look him in the eye. Your lip trembles as you trail your fingertips along his jaw.

“I told you to listen.” Bradley shakes his head. “I like you. You know that?”

“Stop.” You sigh, dropping your head in shame.

Bradley leans in close and kisses you softly, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “I like you. For a dozen reasons that have nothing to do with whether or not I want to sleep with you. Alright?”

“Bradley. I’m not a little kid, you don’t have to talk to me like I am.” You huff.

Illuminated solely by the soft warm light of the lamp, the irritation that flashes briefly across Bradley’s face is softer tonight than it is in direct sunlight. He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue with you and then closes it again to think on it more.

“I’m not going to fuck you because you’re freaking out over some pictures from like eight years ago. That’s not—“ You scrunch your nose at his choice of words. Bradley shakes his head at you. The second that he leaves this place, he’s Natasha’s.

“I want to.” You rush out, resting both hands against his shoulders.

His mouth twitches as he shakes his head again. When he closes his eyes, you’re back in his apartment in Ithaca. Begging him to stop. He pinches your hips gently. “Honey, no you don’t.”

Your face falls, embarrassment and anger swirling through you as Bradley holds you against him. “What does Natasha have that I don’t?”

“What?”

“That makes you want to have sex with her and not me.”

“Fuck me.” Bradley sighs, letting his head fall forwards to rest against your collarbone. He smiles against the skin of your throat. “That’s not — honey… come on. That’s not true.”

“This isn’t funny.” You remind him, scowling seriously.

“I want you.” He promises, nodding slowly. His palms flex around your soft middle once again, his eyes lowered to study the cute purple, white and yellow geometric wrap dress you’re wearing. “But sex is a big deal to you, and I’m just trying—“

“It’s not.” You tell him. “It’s fine.”

“Fine — can you stop?” Bradley sighs, lifting his head finally to frown at you. “Stop guessing at what I want. I’m not going to sleep with Natasha. I’ll stay here with you all night if that’s what you want.”

Silence falls between the two of you. All that rigidity in your trembling body seems to just melt away. Bradley closes his eyes as you lurch forwards and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He rubs heavy circles along your back, turning his face into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry.” You mumble into the fabric of his shirt. Bradley huffs out a dry chuckle, shaking his head at you. You press your lips to his neck, kissing his pulse point as another, silent apology. Bradley’s hand trails up the length of your spine, into your hair. Another soft kiss, your mouth pressing softly to the warm skin of his neck.

The first two could have been passed off as innocent enough. It’s the third that isn’t. You cup the other side of his neck and press your chest into his, kissing him a third time. This time, you suck tenderly at his throat as you pull away.

Bradley trails his thumb along the nape of your neck, eyes closed as you press against him once again. This kiss is open-mouthed. Your tongue is warm, and wet against his neck, trailing the skin before your lips close around the spot.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He chuckles without opening his eyes, curling his fingers loosely into your hair. He feels your mouth twist into a sheepish smile against his collar. You kiss once more, nothing more than a gentle peck against his pulse point.

“Bradley…” Your palm spans across his chest, stretching up onto the broad plain of his shoulder.

“Hm?” He breathes.

“Can we… Can I… Could I touch you?”

His brows knit together. With you purring in his ear, kissing his neck, sitting there against his thigh, it’s all too tempting to just answer with the first thought that springs to his mind. He’s smarter than that.

“That’s not a good idea.” He decides with a soft shake of his head. You hum in quiet, dejected agreement. Bradley drops his hand to rest against your knee. He promised to stay in here with you all night, and he’s got no clue how he’s going to get through it without making this a thousand times more complicated.

He toys with the hem of your dress under his index and thumb. It’s cute, and summery. He imagines that girls your age probably find it pretty on trend. It’s modest enough, resting an inch or two above your knee.

Bradley looks up and finds you watching him. Studying his face with a pressed look on your face. Your eyes drop down to his hand toying with the hem of your dress, then back up to his face. He watches as you chew awkwardly at the skin of your lip. It’s on the tip of your tongue, you just don’t know how to say it. You’ve been taught that it’s not your turn.

His hand dips swiftly under the hem and curls around the meat of your thigh, just inches from the platonic safety of your knee.

“Are you wet thinking about all this, honey?” Bradley whispers. Your eyes widen slightly and you swear that he hears the thudding of your heart with the way he squeezes tighter at your thigh. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said that. The way your breathing quickens has his mouth going dry. “Can I feel?”

Blinking, it takes a second for your brain to catch up. You nod at him, shuffle your knees apart. Bradley’s slow, his eyes on yours as his fingers slide along the soft skin of your inner thigh. Inch by inch, his eyes steady on yours. The crook of his knuckle is the first thing that touches you, brushing gently against the cotton gusset of your underwear.

“You’re sure?” Bradley asks. Once again, you nod at him. He hooks a finger into the fabric and nudges it slowly to the side. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. His fingertip trails your labia first, then gently dips between your folds. His brows knit together. “Fuck...”

Your eyebrows raise, watching him silently.

Bradley should stop and retreat to the far side of the bed, but he doesn’t. This was already a step too far. Kissing you was a step too far. He doesn’t care.

His finger trails through your excitement cautiously, his eyes studied on the way you’re nipping at your bottom lip. The pad of his fingertip reaches the slight bump of your clitoris and your thighs press together around his hand.

“You want me to stop, baby?”

Suddenly, your mouth doesn’t feel dry at all anymore. Even with the window still wide open, the chill has dissipated around you. Now, it’s just hot. Hot on the nape of your neck and across your chest, and between your legs.

“I don’t know.”

“You just tell me if you do, alright?” Bradley tells you, stroking a hand over your hair, pressing a delicate kiss to your temple. You nod slowly, your lips parting as he presses the pad of his thumb over where his index finger had been just a second ago. His touch is featherlight as he swipes a slow circle around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You’re suddenly very aware of how still you are. Maybe you should be touching him. Or kissing him. Or moving at all. Or just breathing. You inhale deeply beside him and your head rush starts to fade.

His free hand pulls at your waist, shifting the way you’re resting against his thigh as he rubs softly at your clit with the other.

“Oh.” You gasp through your teeth, squirming away from his touch, your growing excitement soaking his fingertips already. “That’s — is it meant to feel like that?”

“Like what?”

“That’s… a lot… is all.” You tell him sheepishly. Bradley nods his head along with you, withdrawing his hand from your underwear. “Wait, I didn’t mean to stop.”

His mouth twitches into a boyish grin as he grips your hips and turns, planting you on your ass on the bed. “I’m not stopping. Not ‘til you tell me to. Just close your eyes.”

You lean back on your palms and close your eyes, feeling him leave the bed. Bradley settles onto his knees, guiding your legs slowly apart. You feel him lift the hem of your dress and set it around your middle. His gaze settles on your plain white, cotton underwear briefly, before flickering back up to your face.

Just as quickly as they had closed, your eyes shoot wide open again and you sit bolt upright. Bradley’s mouth pulls off of your thigh and he smiles, already bracing for what’s coming.

“What are you doing?”

“Sit still,” He muses, kissing your skin softly once more. His mouth is practically watering as he curls his hands around your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the bed. “I just want to see something.”

He watches you frown uncertainly at him, gnawing at your lip so hard that it’ll be sore tomorrow. Bradley hasn’t been with a girl who was a virgin since he lost his own virginity. He swallows, reminding himself to be slow. Really, he wants to tear those cute cotton panties down your legs with his teeth.

Instead, he gently holds on to your ankle and kisses the inside of your knee. You watch him intently. Lips quirking, Bradley drags his lips from your knee to the apex of your thighs, kissing lazily at your warmed skin. The hairs above his lip tickle your thighs and make you fidget under him, hips stuttering into the air.

Both of his large paws come up to pin your hips into the mattress, drawing a shocked gasp from your mouth. His touch softens, loosening his grip slightly. You catch sight of the soft smirk on his lips as he glances up at you.

Helpless, you fist your hands into the bedsheets as he lays soft, tongue-fuelled kisses against your inner thighs. Once again, as the tip of his nose grinds into your clothed pussy, you gasp through your teeth again. He smiles against the fabric, pressing a soft kiss to your pubic bone over the cotton.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Bradley asks, stroking his thumbs in slow circles over your clothed hips.

“Um… okay. This is fine.” You tell the ceiling, uncurling your hands from the sheets in case he can see the way your knuckles were straining.

“You want me to leave your underwear on or take it off?” Bradley asks, pressing another hungry kiss to the top of your clothed core. Your brows draw together slightly, frowning at the ceiling fan.

“Will it still work if you don’t?”

Work. He almost snorts at your choice of words, but now isn’t the time to be laughing at you. “Yeah.”

Proving it will probably work best. He leans forwards, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs further apart. Slowly, like he’s trying not to spook you, Bradley presses his mouth to your body, closes his lips together and sucks your clit through the fabric.

Helpless once again, your body betrays you by jolting against him, seeking something more than he’s giving you. Bradley smiles, flexing his hands around your hips.

There’s a brief moment of quiet. “You can take them off.”

He gives you a moment to decide if you’re certain. Slow, he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe down your clothed folds. Spit-soaked, your white panties stick to your glistening core.

“I want you to.”

Bradley’s meaty hands leave your hips for a moment, trusting you to behave for him. They slide up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing at your skin, tugging you closer against him. Like he just can’t have you any closer. Watching you through hooded eyes, Bradley presses an experimental kiss to your still clothed lips, his own eyes closing as the first taste of you permeates that soaked cotton and dances on his tongue.

“You tell me if you want me to stop. I’ll stop. Alright?” Bradley breathes out, lids heavy with lust as he curls his fingers into the sides of your underwear.

“Don’t. Don’t stop.” You rush out, a little bit too quickly. Bradley swallows as you lift your hips for him to undress you. He rolls the cotton under his fingers, gliding the flimsy garment down your legs. He’s practically salivating, reminding himself to be gentle.

He can be gentle — but he’s done waiting. Another seething gasp pulls through your teeth as Bradley dives forwards, pinning your hips, pressing his lips to your soaked pussy. He licks a slow stripe, purely for his own pleasure, groaning softly as your taste coats his tongue.

The wet muscle of his tongue swirls your entrance, teasing you by nudging the tip just a fraction into you. Heart thundering in your chest and through your ears like a train chugging along a track, steaming towards danger. Instinctively, your thighs aim for each other and clasp around his ears.

Bradley chuckles against you, grabbing at the backs of your thighs and pushing them back against your middle.

He groans, licking deeper. His dick is hard, pressing uncomfortably against his zipper to the point that it’s distracting. He fumbles with his buckle, one handed while his other hand presses your stomach down into the bed.

Even one handed, he has your eyes rolling back into your head and your body trembling with every languid stroke of his talented tongue.

His free hand dips into his jeans, boxers and wraps loosely around his cock. All the while, he’s sucking and kissing at the most sensitive parts of your body like it’s a personal hobby. His tongue trails in every which direction — there seems to be a pattern to it, but you can’t place it. Your head is spinning too fast for any of that.

He slows, groaning eagerly. You’re soaking his mouth, his mustache and his chin. You’re gripping the bedsheets like you’re about to rip a hole in them.

“Bradley, wait, wait wait!” You shriek. Withering under Bradley’s heavy hands, shaking and digging your heels into the mattress.

He relents and you almost curse at him for it. Bradley nips at your thigh, replacing his mouth with his thumb. “Do you actually want me to stop?”

“I don’t know.” You pant out, whimpering.

“Let me make you cum, honey, you’re gonna be just fine.” Bradley’s breath fans out against your sensitive core and makes you jump.

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Yeah.” You babble, squeezing your eyes tightly shut, reaching instinctively for his hair. Bradley abandons his own need and grabs your hips with both hands, burying his face between your legs again.

His mouth works feverishly, tightening that coil in your stomach until you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids. Usually, Bradley likes to let his partners ride through their orgasm on his face. Today, he relents. You’ve been brave enough for one day.

“What the hell was that?” You pant out as Bradley kneels on the bed, moving your dress back down to cover you. Wiping off his jaw with his palm, Bradley leans forwards and kisses your forehead.

“That, honey, was your first orgasm.” He should feel so ashamed of himself for breaking his number one rule, making this mistake with a student. But, for you, he would do it a dozen times over.

Blinking, you look down between your body and his. His jeans are unbuckled, unzipped and the tent in his jeans is pressing against your belly button.

“Should I…?”

“No. No, it’ll go away.” Bradley tells you, pressing forwards and kissing your forehead once more. Your eyes flicker again.

“Could… could I see it?”

…

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you

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redclercs · 1 year

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iii. one for the money, two for the show.

— the one where you were never ready, so you watched him go.

warnings: war flashbacks to the miami gp, more insight into y/n (look i have to give a lot of context for my own sanity), not really proofread sorry, 2.4k words.

masterlist ✢ next

FROM “WHAT’S NEXT FOR AIDAN KIM?” POSTED IN THE US WEEKLY YOUTUBE CHANNEL MAY 2023

You are looking at the top comments.

aidanbabes nooo my baby😭 he looks so sad!

flowerbedkim I swear to god y/n better count her fucking days

halleyc don’t come at me but this sounds like he proposed

ynbby why is he talking about this though? y/n has been super private and he’s telling US WEEKLY THIS?

ynaidan i hate being a child of divorce😭

Miami, Florida May 6th

GRAND Prix number two with Elix, attempt number two by Mr. Stuart Schafer to get into your pants. Can it get any worse?

Yes, yes it can. Because as long as you have “a job” you don’t have to come to these sponsor events. Which sucks for you, not having an acting job for the moment has never felt more like a punishment from the universe.

Artists, from actors to singers are here promoting their gigs while all you do, again, is take pictures with men in jeans and loafers and try not to barf every time you consume Elix.

You’re watching your career crumble in front of your eyes and you can’t do anything to save it from burning when it hits the floor. Mildred has called you several times during the course of the weekend to inform you of canceled interviews, revoked invitations and “sorry we’re just looking for something else” calls from casting agents.

Part of you is in disbelief that a five minute interview from your ex-boyfriend is feeding the fire, part of you expected it all the same. Women are the preferred villain in the narrative, and if it means putting a man above them, the media has had the choice made for a while.

Did you really have it coming, though? There have been endless comments about how it was about time people realized the type of person you are.

But what are you? Who are you really?

You’re a coward. You tell that to yourself in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Many people have the luxury to say they can’t pinpoint the exact moment where they went wrong. You can’t afford the pleasure of such obliviousness, because the exact moment everything went wrong was when Aidan got down on one knee.

And when the question that left his lips went from "Will you marry me?" to "Why won't you?" You knew there was no turning back.

Marriage wasn’t a foreign concept to you, but while it is generally seen as a milestone, for you it was just another stepping stone. The roles of The Wife and The Mother were something you might eventually grow into, but on the night of your third anniversary, you realized you weren't even ready for that of The Fiancée.

Was it genuinely a surprise for Aidan that you had to close the velvet box he was holding in front of you, hiding the diamond ring from your sight, before he dropped his other knee to the ground and whispered 'Why?'

Never, in the three years you'd been together, had you seriously talked about marriage. It was another bridge you would cross once you got there, and in your mistaken calculations, you thought it would be around the time your relationship turned five. That's the limit for romantic relationships without a ring involved according to most women's magazines, and your own mom. At least neither know the ring was the cause of the breakup.

It's a little pathetic how lucky you consider yourself that the tabloids don't know you rejected an engagement. They're cruel enough as it is, things can only go further downhill, straight to hell.

"You good?"

Your best friend in the world, Victoria Presley, is able to join you in the VIP area of the Paddock thanks to a couple pictures on instagram where she tagged Elix. God bless the era of influencers. Or, family connections. Being the daughter of Sony Music executive Luke Presley and celebrity life coach Claire Walker can open many doors. Well it isn't Vic's fault being born into a rich and influential family, at least she's doing her own thing with her beauty products.

"Yes, I am," you shrug. Q3 is going on right now and although you try your best to keep your focus on the two red cars around the circuit, you find it hard to get out of your head. Plus it's so hot in here you feel sticky and gross.

"I lost you for a moment there," she insists, sipping her glass of champagne, the eyebrow raise she gives you after means she needs more info into what was going through your head just seconds ago.

"Not getting any call backs right now," you sigh, taking the flute from her although all it would take for you to get your own is a few steps. "I'm kind of frustrated."

"I'm sorry babe," Vic rubs your back, unbothered by your stealing. "You'll get something soon."

"And E! cancelled my interview, AND—"

Tires screech and an 'ooooh' goes through the grand stands before the screens show a red car embedded in the barriers. A groan of "It's Leclerc!" passes through the people around you in the VIP Lounge.

You grimace, focused on the circuit again as Charles leaves his car, shaking his arms before hitting the halo several times, frustrated.

"See everyone has bad streaks," Vic has gotten her own champagne again and is pointing to the screen, where the Ferrari driver is being followed on his way out. "It's his second crash, no?"

Other people's disgrace doesn't soothe your own, so you give Vic a stern look, causing her to shrug.

Q3 is done and Ferrari has mixed feelings about their two drivers' results. As for you, the faster you can get back to your hotel, the better.

─────────

Vic drags you to dinner with a couple of her influencer friends. Everyone and their mother is in attendance at Miami, and they’re here to have fun.

"They're here!" the girl to Vic's left whisper-yells, stretching her neck to look over at the entrance of the restaurant.

The place has been completely full the whole time you've been here, which has been a while, you're done with your dinner and have a few drinks on you, yet Vic has begged you twice to stay 'just a little longer'.

Of course Vic is having the time of her life, talking about promotion agreements and posting schedules, and although you hang out with lots of influencers and social media stars on your daily life, you're not clicking with any of them tonight. Have you become bitter? No, of course not.

"y/n knows them, she can just introduce us," another one giggles, and she cheers with her tequila sunrise to your own half-empty drink that's resting on the table.

"Hmm, what?" you chuckle, unsure of how you missed the part where you entered the story.

"The Ferrari Drivers," the first girl answers in that 'obviously' tone you hate when people use with you. "You're with Ferrari all the time lately, aren't you?"

"I'm with Elix," you clear up, best as you can as they're not really paying attention, their eyes following the group of men that are being escorted by a hostess to their table. "So you know, it's not really—"

"But you've met them,"

"Well, yes but..."

Yes but, you've seen them in scattered moments where they nod and smile at you passing by and the three times you've had to take pictures drinking Elix. You don't even get to the coworker level of knowing them.

"Well let's go!"

"Hold on Holly," Vic speaks up for the first time, "I mean, they literally just got here."

"Which is why we came here," Holly can't seem to get rid of that know-it-all tone, and it's frankly starting to annoy you even if she has a different target now.

It's time to use the angry eyes with Vic, again,in less than 24 hours. That's why she kept asking you to wait just a little longer.

"How did you know they'd be here?" you question, although you already know what a cleveage can do to get any information you want. Can't blame a girl for using her tools.

“I have my ways,” Holly says, and does in fact, fix her cleavage. Fair enough.

"Vic..." you whisper, as the rest of them regather in their own conversation. "What's happening?"

"I just– they said they really wanted to meet the Ferrari guys, y/n," Vic half whines. She's doing the most to impress the other girls, which is a very Vic thing to do, but still you don't like it. "And since you work with them, well it would be easier to approach them, right?"

Wrong.

"I- Vic, I don't work with these guys. We don't even work for the same people, and... it would be weird to approach them while they're trying to have dinner peacefully."

You are not a big fan of interruptions because you've heard enough of your coworkers talk about how annoying it is. As for yourself, sometimes you mind, sometimes you don't. It all depends.

You can barely distinguish their table with all the movement around the restaurant, but you manage a peek at Carlos' hair. Both of them are there, surrounded by a bunch of other Ferrari guys.

"So? Let's go," Holly is speaking again, downing the rest of her alcoholic Shirley Temple.

"I have to use the bathroom," you announce, dropping the napkin that covered your lap on the table.

"Right now?" the other girl—you feel guilty for not remembering her name— groans.

You refrain from replying, and try not to stomp to the bathroom like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If there’s anything that you hate is feeling used, and it hurts a lot more when it comes from Victoria.

It’s something else when she uses her doe-eyed stare and says “please, please, please” to get her way even with you, rather than set you up to impress her other friends.

You take your time to reapply lipstick in the bathroom and soothe your annoyance. You have told Vic before that she needs to ask for things, not just push you into awkward situations. At least she didn’t follow you to the restroom.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom, wondering how to go on about this. It’s very likely that things get twisted and it is you who’ll look like she wants to brag about knowing the Ferrari guys, which you’re sure they’re used to—being bragged about. But you don’t want that.

There are many clichés that you have experienced, both as a character in RomComs where the biggest makeover that is done to your character is to apply a little mascara and remove the glasses (you hate that, what’s wrong with wearing glasses?). And in real life, with big romantic gestures like receiving a bouquet with a hundred roses and one is artificial… Blah blah.

This cliché is a little more ridiculous, though, as you crash into Charles Leclerc while leaving the restroom.

“Oh, sorry,” you half-smile back at him, he’s already smiling, showing dimples and everything. You see his appeal no matter how much you don’t want to notice it. Tall, green-blue eyes and those stupid dimples. Not to mention the fact that you suddenly find accents charming. Again, stupid.

“Hey y/n,” he says still smiling, “Did you just get here?”

“Uh, no actually we’re leaving in a few minutes,” you move out of the way of a lady that wants to get into the restroom, she eyes you both for a moment before continuing on her way.

“Are you here with your friends? Or is it with Elix?”

“My friends. Thank God I get to be away from Elix for a few hours.”

Charles chuckles and the moment runs long enough to become awkward. You’re still outside of the bathrooms and another guy has too given you an off look as he made his way inside.

"Let me walk you back to your table," Charles offers as a way of breaking the silence and you shake your head no.

"You don't have to, my friends are probably on the way out already, anyway."

Are you being selfish by keeping Vic's friends away from him? It doesn't matter to you, not really. But really a small part of you doesn't want things to go their way.

Charles doesn't listen to your refusal anyway, and asks you to lead the way with a gesture.

"I didn't see you at the Ferrari Suite after Quali," he mentions as he follows you a step behind.

"I was in the VIP Lounge with a friend," you explain, "I'll be at the Suite tomorrow, though."

You stop at your table, where the three girls are still doing their best to ogle at the Ferrari guys.

"Hey," you get their attention back and not one in the three of them even attempt to hide the pleasant surprise that Charles' presence gives them. "Are you ready to go?"

It's Vic's turn to give you a look. One that tells you to not be unfair, things have just started to go as they planned.

While you return the pointed look to Vic, Holly strikes a conversation with Charles. Lightning quick.

"Let's go," you repeat, "Gotta be up early tomorrow."

"Can we get a picture, though?" the other girl—lord, if you could remember her name you'd feel a little better —adds quickly.

"Do you mind?" you ask Charles before he can reply. You don't want to make a fuss and have half the restaurant acknowledging his presence and his disposition to take pictures and sign autographs while he's trying to have dinner.

"Not at all," he shakes his head and waits patiently for everyone to be camera-ready while you stare. "Aren't you getting in the picture?"

"I'll take it," you hold your hand out for an iPhone, and get Holly's bedazzled one. Charles frowns but you just say 'okay, ready?' before pointing the camera at them.

No one else argues the fact that you're not in the picture.

A chorus of 'thank you's' passes quickly as you return the iPhone and the three influencers start checking the picture. They're probably better photographers than you, you can accept that.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, y/n," Charles leans towards you, leaving the group to their own thing after he pleased their request. "Right?"

"I'll be the one drinking Elix," you joke, half-whining.

"I'll be the one in the red car," Charles jokes back, a wide smile spreading on his face.

You laugh, fighting against the sudden shyness caused by the familiarity.

"Goodnight," he calls quietly, and the girls wish him a goodnight and good luck for the race before he snakes through tables back to his friends.

Not another thank you is directed at you as your group leaves the restaurant to wait for the Uber back to the hotel.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading! I'm really grateful for everyone who has interacted with this story, I hope you're enjoying it so far ♡❞

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you

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beautifulmadnesss · 11 months

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"Maybe I'm Better Off Dead" Part 2 Velaryon!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Visenya is married to Aemond, who tries to keep her safe, but she is still a prisoner in a war just beginning.

Part 1

When I woke up, the sun was shining in brightly from the windows, which were now covered with bars. The bars were only a few inches apart, so there was no chance of slipping through the gaps.

"Are you hungry?" I turned to see Aemond sitting on the sofa where he slept last night.

"No." I replied, shifting in the bed slightly so I was sitting.

"It's not poisoned." He said, taking a bite of the bread on the tray in front of him. When I didn't respond, he took a bite of the porridge as well.

"Not all poison is immediate. You could just be waiting for an antidote while I suffer a slow death." I challenged.

He sighed, "very well. My mother brought some dresses for you if you wish to change while we wait."

"So you can take the antidote while I'm changing behind the screen?"

"You're quite impossible." He remarked. "Though, I never said you had to go behind the screen." He added with a smirk.

"It's not as if you need to ask anything of me."

His face hardened immediately, "I told you, I will never touch you without your permission."

"Aegon will not allow that. He will expect you to take my maidenhood."

"I already have a plan for that." He replied. I raised an eyebrow at him after he didn't elaborate. "Has your mother explained to you what happens?"

My cheeks flamed and all I could do was shake my head softly.

We were both spared the embarrassment of further conversation by the announcement of his mother at the door.

"You may enter." He said and moments later the doors opened to reveal the Queen Mother in a long velvet green dress.

"Aemond, your brother would like to discuss some things with you before the ceremony." He bowed to his mother before flashing a quick glance at me and leaving myself alone with Alicent. "Shall I help you dress for your wedding?" Her tone was not one of questioning, so I simply stood and followed her over to the pile of green dresses. "You needn't be afraid. Aemond has always been my gentle and kind boy." She said while selecting the most ornate of the dresses. One embroidered with countless tiny flowers and golden beads.

"He murdered my brother." I replied once again.

"The same brother who maimed him?" She challenged.

"We were children. Luke never meant to-" I paused realizing I had said exactly what she wanted.

"Just as Aemond never meant to kill Lucerys." She continued to speak as she helped me into the heavy dress. "Your grandsire was always terrified that his own family would go to war against each other. I think he was right and I'm sure your mother prepared you for that. You have the opportunity to prevent that by marrying Aemond and keeping peace. I know you don't want to and I know you're scared, just as I was, but I promise, no harm will come to you. You can still live a happy life with children you adore."

"You used to be my mother's closest friend." I said through teary eyes as she lead me over to a seat and began running a brush through the tangles in my hair.

"I did and I wish we would not have grown so far apart. Women follow the lead of men. I chose to follow Viserys and do my duty to my country. Your mother chose to follow her desires with your father rather than her husband."

"My mother chose to be happy, to find love and to allow Leanor to do the same. I understand that it was wrong, but it never had to become this. You could've chosen to be happy too." I caught her eye in the small mirror.

"You are a clever girl, but you are still young. You cannot break tradition that has lasted thousands of years. Thousands of men, women, and children will die in this war because your mother decided that her heart was more important than their lives. You can chose to follow the same fate or you can chose to find happiness in the life you have been given." She carefully pushed the last pin just a little too far and I felt it scrap my scalp. A threat that did not go unnoticed. She always hated me and that would not change as I married her son.

My stomach twisted into knots and my heart felt like it would explode out of my chest, but I forced my emotions down and held my head high. I would not cry in a room full of my enemies. The Usurper held my hand on his arm as he led me toward the man who murdered my brother. The blood pounded in my ears as we were married. I couldn't hear anything the Septon was saying. I wanted to scream and run, but I knew I would never be allowed to leave. I considered killing Aegon and ending this war, but I knew Ser Criston Cole, the man my mother had given a job to, would cut me down before I came within inches of victory. Aemond studied my face carefully as our hands were bound together. His eyes seemed to hold concern and pity. As much as I wanted to close myself off to him, I knew Alicent was right, if I did my duty, then perhaps the rest of my family could survive this. I couldn't let anyone else die. Aemond was gentle as he placed a hand on my cheek and slowly leaned forward to kiss me. My first. It seemed to last an eternity as he held our lips together before pulling away and taking my hand in his as we walked through the crowd of people out the front doors.

Once the doors shut behind us, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry." I looked up at him in confusion, he was my husband now, he could do as he pleased, why would he apologize for kissing me?

"Let us go feast and celebrate the end to this fighting!" Aegon announced as he marched through the doors. He seemed to be the only one under the impression this would end the fighting, but as the King, no one challenged him.

Aemond stayed by my side for the rest of the evening, though apart from dancing, he never touched me. I started to become slightly comforted by his presence as many men who would be generals in the war to come approached me with thinly veiled threats of what was to become of my family. I was comforted until Aegon proudly proclaimed that it was time the bedding ceremony.

"My King, as we discussed, I would like the privilege of bedding my wife in privacy, if it pleases you." Aemond replied.

"Ah, yes, of course. My brother wishes to conquer alone. Very well." He waved us off and as we walked closer to his, or I supposed as it was now, our chambers I began to feel more and more afraid. The moment I stepped inside the room and the doors closed, I completely froze and the tears I tried so hard to force back came tumbling down my cheeks.

I could see Aemond out of the corner of my eye begin to strip off his clothes and tossed them next to the bed. I turned away before he took off everything.

"Once you change into your night clothes you hand me your dress." I didn't respond, but simply took off my dress and handed it to him, sneaking a quick glance only to find that he was also wearing his night clothes. He took the dress and tugged hard, tearing the fabric around the neck of the dress and tossed it on top of his clothes. I still hadn't moved from the spot I was glued to. "Visenya." I snapped my head up to meet his gaze. "I truly meant it. I'm sorry for today and I will not tonight, nor ever, force you to lay with me."

He walked over to the couch without another word and laid down. I was unable to completely relax, but I made my way over to the bed and settled into the sheets. Perhaps, he was right, maybe I wouldn't be harmed here.

I woke up to someone gently shaking my shoulder and immediately shot up, slamming into someone. He grunted softly, but still was the one to apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's okay."

"Aegon will be here soon, so you get dressed, while I take care of this." I noticed he was bleeding from a small cut on his torso. He noted my confusion. "When a maiden lays with a man for the first time, she bleeds. Aegon will expect to see that we consummated our marriage."

"Oh."

"It's alright. Toss your night dress over when you change, I'll need that too." He was quiet and also clearly uncomfortable. I nodded and climbed out of bed to go put on one of the green dresses from Alicent, tossing my night dress over as he asked.

I came out and saw that he was now dressed as well, but our clothes from last night and this morning were in a messy pile next to the bed. The sheets were all tangled together and I saw the blood on them.

"Thank you." I said softly, chancing a glance at him. He looked as though he was going to say something else before the doors burst open and the King entered.

"I trust you enjoyed your evening, brother." He said, coming in and walking toward the bed. His lips spread into a wide grin as he took in the scene before him. It turned to a smirk as his eyes found me. "and you, Princess. Did you enjoy yourself?" I wanted to remain brave, but something in his eyes caused me to shrink back, almost instantly bumping into Aemond, though I didn't remember seeing him move toward me.

"Can I help you with anything else, my King?" He said from behind me.

"Yes, I would like for you to fly to Storms End and inform Lord Baratheon that I require the presence of him and his men here to begin preparing for battle. Lord Hightower expects the bitch to attempt to rescue her little girl." He directed the last part at me.

"I did not expect to leave my wife so soon."

"When you return you will have plenty of time to make little lords and ladies. It will be a quick trip." His request was given as a King and therefore not one to be refused, so Aemond left. "I shall have your meals brought here until your husband returns tomorrow." Aegon added to me before he left the room.

It was a relief to finally be left alone and not feel constantly on guard, though as much as I was unsure at the beginning I was starting to feel even a little safe with Aemond. Perhaps he truly didn't mean to kill Luke and maybe he did regret it. I spent the day reading books that were left in the room, though I was not truly absorbing the words I consumed, it helped to pass the time until the evening.

The sheets were changed when the servants brought dinner, so they were clean as I settled into bed. I missed my family, but I now had some hope that I would see them one day.

Once again I awoke to the touch of someone and for a moment I thought it was Aemond until I remembered he was gone. I tried to sit up, but quickly realized I was pinned down. I screamed when I realized it was Aegon.

"Perhaps we will make some bastards of our own." He sneered as he roughly kissed down my neck and forced my dress up. I kept screaming and violently thrashed, trying everything in my power to get free, but it was no use. He was the King and as such, no one would be coming to my aid. The more I fought back, the harder he hit me until eventually I couldn't fight back anymore, all I could do was cry.

The next day no one came to bring me food or change the sheets. There was no bath and no new clothes. I didn't move, because everything hurt and I realized how stupid I had been to think I was ever safe here. Sleep came in short periods if terrible nightmares and the waking world was no different. I was terrified he would return, so when the doors opened again, I scrambled off the bed and shoved myself into the corner, ignoring the ripples of pain throughout my body.

I heard him inhale sharply before calling out my name, but I didn't move or make a single sound until he came around the side of the bed and saw me.

"Stay away from me." I croaked my throat raw.

"Who did this to you?" He growled.

"You know. That's why you left, so he could have his turn. You lied to me and tricked me so I would think I was safe, so I would trust you."

"I didn't I swear." He stopped "Did Aegon do this to you?"

I didn't bother to respond.

"I'm going to help you escape. Stay here. If you want to change clothes, you can. I'm going to figure out how to free your dragon and then tonight I'm getting you out of here." His voice held an uncharacteristic edge, but I wasn't naive enough to believe him again.

The only thing I did was take one of the new dresses and change out of the clothes I was wearing before sitting on the sofa. This time, I didn't get a book, I simply stared at the window, watching as night fell. When Aemond returned he didn't let the doors close behind him, but instead waited in the doorway and asked if I wanted to go for a stroll. The guards on either side of the doors reminded me that I did not have a choice, so I stood and made my way over to him. We walked in silence for a while before we rounded a corned and he pulled me into a secret passage.

"I know you have no reason to believe me anymore, but I had no idea. I am so sorry for what my family has done to you, for what I have done to you." He pulled a cloak over himself and handed one to me. "Some of the dragon pit handlers are loyal to your mother and when I told them what Aegon had done, they agreed to help you escape. It's this way." He held up a lamp and I followed behind him as we made our way through the passage before finally coming up just outside of the Dragonpit where my beautiful dragon was already waiting. "Go quickly." He said while looking around for other people.

"He's going to kill you when he finds out what you did." I said, causing him to turn to me.

"I know, but I'm going to do my best to stop this war from happening."

"Thank you, Aemond." I truly meant it. For the things he had done, I should hate him, but I could see that he hated himself just as much as I did. He was trying to be different and risking his own life to save mine.

"I am truly sorry." I wanted to hug him, but I was also still so scared, so I just gave him a smile before mounting my dragon and taking off. Aemond had given me enough of a head start that I knew I could make it home, but I still kept going as fast as we could until I landed in the courtyard at Dragonstone.

I must've looked as bad as I felt because the guards rushed me inside and several took off to wake my mother and Uncle, though it was Jace who found me first. As soon as I saw him, I collapsed into sobs. He held me gently as I cried.

"Visenya!" My mothers voice broke halfway through my name and I turned to see her sprinting towards me with my Uncle just behind her.

"I left him. I'm so sorry. I-" My words were incoherent, but she shushed me and pulled me into her arms.

"Oh my sweet girl, it isn't your fault. You're home now. You're safe." I was so exhausted after hugging each member of my family and after some time, my mother sent them off until only Daemon, Jace, Rhaenys, and Corlys remained.

"I know you're tired and hungry, but we have to ask you what happened. Can you tell us?" Daemon asked as I sat next to my mother who hadn't let go of me the entire time.

I nodded and told them everything starting from Luke's death at Storms End, all the way through Aemond helping me escape.

My mother wrapped an arm around my shoulders as I told her what Aegon had done. Jace's face hardened with anger, but Daemon only made on small movement as his hand reached for the hilt of Dark Sister.

"We will speak soon of what we will do, for now, you get some rest." Daemon said, only the slightest edge to his voice.

Corlys and Rhaenys left first. Daemon hugged me and then Jace, each one reminding me how happy they were to have me home. Then, my mother and I left, making our way to my room where a feast was already waiting. She helped me bathe and dress in my own clothes. As I ate, she brushed my hair, softly running a hand over it each time.

"I think Aemond truly was sorry. While I was there he protected me. Thats why Aegon sent him away, I think he knew, Aemond never would've let him hurt me." I said to her.

She sighed, "Aemond is a clever man."

"Alicent said the same of me." She paused for the slightest moment before continuing to brush my hair.

"Do you care for Aemond?" She asked, catching me off guard.

"No, of course not, I just-" I stopped. It was far too complicated to describe how I felt for Aemond. He killed my brother and took me hostage, but maybe a part of me did care for him.

"It isn't anything you need to decide for tonight. For now, you sleep for as long as you wish. You are safe at home." She tucked me into the bed and kissed the top of my head before walking toward the door.

"Wait!" I stopped, feeling too silly to speak my thoughts aloud. I was brave and strong. "Never mind."

My mother smiled knowingly and came back to the bed to lay next to me. She ran her fingers through my hair and softly sang songs of Old Valeryia until I fell asleep.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support on Part 1. I had no idea so many people would enjoy it! I can continue it if people want that or this could be a good place to end it as well.

Taglist: @bellameshipper @malfoytargaryen @castellomargot @toodlesxcuddles @jennifer0305 @1950schick @minttea07 @bogwaterswamp @deadunicorn159 @shygardengalaxy @siriusdumblittlepuppy

#imagine #hotd imagine #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #velaryon!reader

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hannagoldworthy · 7 months

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WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR STAR WARS LEGENDS

One take I regularly see from the “Jedi Critical” corner of this fandom always manages to baffle me: “In Legends, Luke Skywalker corrected the mistakes of the dogmatic Jedi Order!”

Since my days as a dumbass first-time tumblr user, in which I was rather sternly corrected by older users if I got too aggressive in my arguments, I’ve tried to steer away from pointing out how STUPID that take is. But? Nothing’s saying I can’t make a post of my own about it!

So.

With the bare minimum of due respect.

What fucking book did you read where Luke Skywalker corrected his own fucking mistakes, let alone those of any Jedi who came before him?

Because from what I’VE read? Luke had a nasty habit of doing the same things everyone criticizes the Prequel Jedi for doing, only ramping the ante up in a way only a Skywalker trained by TWO of the Disaster Lineage can.

Mace Windu threatened a “helpless” old Chancellor in his own office and was trying to assassinate him? Gag me. Luke Skywalker electrocuted Shimrra Jamaane to death with Force Lightn-pardon me, “eLeCtRiC jUsTiCe.”

The Jedi Order of the Prequels used Padawans as “child soldiers”? Please. Luke Skywalker possessed the body of his nephew to duel Exar Kun…when Jacen Solo was TWO, a FUCKING TODDLER. That’s not even getting into the number of very young teenagers who died horrible deaths as SOLDIERS in the war against the Yuuzhan Vong - for pity’s sake, Anakin Solo was knighted at sixteen and KILLED AT SEVENTEEN, where his grandfather’s knighting at nineteen was considered a rush job!

The Galactic Army of the Republic was a slave army? So was the army of YVH-1 battle droids built to battle the Yuuzhan Vong invasion! “Oh, but those were just droids” yeah and? The anti-Jedi folk cried when Anakin Skywalker was rightfully punished for not wiping R2’s memory of sensitive battle information, and they’ve outright said they have more sympathy for the battle droids than for the living, breathing people defending themselves against the battle droids. Not to mention, Legends had a Droid’s Rights movement in full swing at this point in time, so? YVH’s were people programmed from “birth” to die in battle. Next question.

Obi-Wan was too mean to Darth Maul and Darth Vader when he cut off their limbs? Alema Rar would like a word! Luke Skywalker permanently crippled her lightsaber arm, his sister cut off one of her feet AND one of her lekku (brain tails, that HAVE HER BRAIN IN THEM), AND put her in the way of a spider-sloth that BIT HER IN FUCKING HALF. And this was after Luke helped raise her as a youngling and HAD A VISION OF HER TURNING TO THE DARK SIDE, and did FUCK-ALL to prevent her from turning!

On the topic of doing fuck-all to prevent something…oh, was Obi-Wan Kenobi unable to prevent his Padawan from being groomed by a Sith Lord? Well, Luke Skywalker GAVE his son Ben as an unofficial apprentice to Jacen Solo, who turned out to be Darth Caedus and mentally, emotionally, and physically tortured Ben for six years! And, while Obi-Wan did not like Palpatine and continuously advised Anakin not to trust him without even knowing Palpatine was Sidious, Luke fully suspected Jacen was headed down a dark path and still encouraged Ben to be his apprentice because he was afraid of the Skywalker legacy dying with him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi flirted inappropriately with enemy generals? Luke Skywalker banged them. No, seriously, Legends Luke’s sexual body count is in double digits, the man was an unrepentant fuckboi. Mara Jade, Calista Masana/Mingla, Gaerial Captison, Shira Brie, some blonde named Mary who was in one comic to die at the end, fucking ABELOTH? Yeah, Luke only married one of those women, BUT HE FUCKED ALL OF THEM. And now, we have the DinLuke ship (which only exists in fanon, so I will count it as Legends) to mirror the Codywan ship (which actually has some basis in canon), just to cement that Luke Skywalker is a persistent playboy for BOTH teams. He loves them and leaves them like a pro.

Oh, there’s a persistent fan-theory that Korkie Kryze was Satine and Obi-wan’s secret love child? There were rumors that Brisha Syo was Shira Brie’s daughter with Luke…rumors that were credible enough that Luke had to do his own investigation into the matter. Shira Brie, aka Lady Lumiya, whom Luke blew to smithereens when she tried to kill him, and fought her with no mercy when Darth Vader pieced her back together and sent her to fight him again. So, while Obi-Wan has a rumored lovechild from a respectful relationship with a woman who opted not to tell him, Luke legitimately blew up his alleged baby mamma in the void of space with the bare minimum of regret.

Yoda and Obi-Wan sent Luke to kill his own father because they couldn’t manage to do so? Luke sent his niece, Jaina Solo, to kill her TWIN BROTHER because he could not bring himself to kill Jacen himself. And, while Luke was understandably torn up about killing Anakin, Jaina had a Force-bond comparable with a canon dyad withh Jacen - it hurt her a lot more when she killed Jacen than it ever would have hurt Luke to kill Vader. She nearly DIED of heartbreak, that’s how bad it was.

Obi-Wan hurt Anakin’s trust by faking his death and going undercover? He beat the crap out of Anakin to maintain his cover? Luke hurt Leia’s trust by faking turning to the Dark Side, becoming a reborn Sidious’s new apprentice, ACTUALLY FALLING TO THE DARK SIDE, and mentally fighting Leia WHILE SHE WAS PREGNANT, to the point she WENT INTO LABOR EARLY.

Obi-Wan beat Anakin in a duel and left him to burn to death? Luke Skywalker BEAT THE LIVING HELL out of Vader until Vader was wordlessly pleading for MERCY, which he DID NOT DO ON MUSTAFAR.

Now.

Is there any nuance in Luke’s situations, throughout all of these examples? Yes, there is...but there’s also nuance in the Jedi’s situation in the Prequels, which no one seems to acknowledge in their case. So, whatever grace I extend to Legends!Luke being an imperfect and fascinating character, also extends to the Jedi being imperfect and fascinating characters in their own right.

I love Legends!Luke BECAUSE he reminds me of the Prequels Jedi, not because he corrected any of their “mistakes” (he did not. He very clearly did not). So don’t come at me saying Legends!Luke was better than the Prequel Jedi. I have read the books! I have kept the receipts! AND I WILL USE THEM.

#Star Wars #Star Wars Legends #Pro-Jedi #Pro-Luke Skywalker #Pro-Jedi Order #Pro-Obi-Wan Kenobi #Pro-Yoda #Pro-Mace Windu #PRO JEDI CODE

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fantasticalleigh · 12 days

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season 3 part one thoughts:

ok ok i did finish B S3 pt. I and it's GOOD and i was really happy with it but now that my pulse has gone back to normal i'm realizing i have a lot of nitpicks/concerns with the storytelling but ngl the carriage scene was fucking BONKERS and my mind will be in the gutter for the rest of the weekend

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW!!! bc i have a ton of thoughts on season 3 so far and have to get them out:

THOUGHTS:::::

-i could not stop smiling. my face hurts still.

-i don't get people whining about colin and the threesome. when the brothel threesome scene was leaked people were losing their goddamn minds about colin not being a virgin on reddit. y'all. he spent a LONG time traveling solo around europe--did you really expect him not to experiment the entire time? the fixation on this was kinda weird i gotta say. also i really liked that in the second brothel instance it served as growth to show colin was realizing it wasn't those women he wanted to have sex with, but penelope.

it seems every bridgerton lad needs a whoring about subplot in their respective season and colin was obviously going to get one if his elder brothers did, so i wasn't surprised at all. i thought the scenes were hot, personally. overconfident and super flirty col galavanting everywhere suddenly being reduced to a pining, thirsty af insecure boy was so gratifying to watch and those scenes had a hand in showing us that.

-i hate portia's costumes this season. hate. hate. hate. she looks like she was ripped right out of DIsney's Descendants set from the costume rejects pile. woof. she was stunning in s1 but s2 were her best looks and now she looks awful. why???

-i think the mondriches are ok and i like them but their story did not need expanding here. i'm happy for them but that storyline was boring and time taken away from more important characters. i know this sounds harsh but this season was already packed with storylines. across these four episodes there was a severe lack of Lady Danbury. one of my favorite aspects of Romancing Mr. Bridgerton was her friendship/mentorship with Penelope. that instantly made her one of my favorite characters. why not keep that in the show??? i'm so disappointed but with part 2 yet unreleased maybe it will still come?

-speaking of lady danbury, something about the way her brother is presented and how she treats him makes me worry for Violet, that he might disappoint her later. idk it's just a vibe i get.

-Luke's acting is fucking incredible. all the microexpressions and the lingering stares and subtle movements. nicola is a great actor in her own right but fucking hell, every time Luke teared up on screen I was mirroring him.

the carriage scene, when he's on his knees in front of Pen and she cups the side of his head and his eyes do THAT thing and the look he gives her? i rewatched that two second bit on repeat for a minute. amazing. (that's exactly the kind of devotion i picture when I wrote dark Dramione in TEOAL towards the end)

-we get it, benedict is a slut. he fucks. i'm over it. i'm not interested in who he's fucking. i know the consensus is Lady Tilley will somehow tie in to Sophie but i just do not care about Benedict rn. he is pulling focus.

-hyacinth's actress is so stunning! all the actors are obvs but every time i look at her i see Brooke Shields. anyone else?

-i had higher hopes for Lord Debling. genuinely kind of disappointed. he's boring and feels fickle. also the abruptness of him going 'i need a wife to tend to my estate so i can go travel for 3 years so be warned that i can't love you' to 'you have feelings for another man? i'm done-zo.' like what. you just said you can't love her and will never be at home with her but it's a fucking problem that she likes someone else? even though she's is clearly willing to get over it by marrying you??? bro. bro.

-hate what they did with Colin's hair for most of his scenes. why flatten it all out and take out the adorable curls he had in the first episode????????????????? episode one hairstyle was god-tier. everything after that makes him look like he's wearing a bad and stiff wig. still hot tho. also on the hair note: please stop giving eloise bangs. please.

-people on reddit were near to rioting when they learned Kanthony was only in the first ep due to leaks. i was bummed but ultimately don't mind it. did we deserve to see more of them thanks to how badly s2 was handled?? absolutely. but if it's only sex scenes bc they're now trying for babies then i'm good for now. also glad that edwina and mary don't come back bc ngl they pissed me tf off in s2 thanks to how badly they were written. plus like i said, this season has FAR too many subplots to keep them in. the writers really should have trimmed things down. violet meeting Lady D's brother was also not necessary imo.

-i went from loathing cressida to actively sympathizing and rooting for her to snatch up debling in the latter half. well done, writers.

-all the featherington scenes were gold. pru and phillipa are incredible when in scenes together and i'm so glad we got more of that. albion finch is a treasure, too. i really think they should have spent more time on penelope and her mother's relationship bc it's a big part of the book with how portia assigned pen to be her caretaker for when she got old and that being pen's burden/reason to want to bug out and marry rather than stay with her abusive mother, not her sisters' heirs taking charge of the house. they leaned too much into the comedy with the featheringtons and forgot to remind us why penelope is so miserable at home too--the problem stems from her mother, too, not only her sisters. we got two tiny clips of that and that was it. not enough to really establish that. the featheringtons are funny yes but they are not good people (sans Pen). Portia is neglectful and rude and dismissive toward Pen and there is not enough of that so far.

-i haven't read fran's book yet so had no idea what to expect and thought i'd be bored. she is adorable and i'm rooting for her. i like john better than the other guy. but i'm not that invested in her plot. i have no true emotional attachment to her. she needed her own season or to be pushed back to s4.

-still don't like eloise but i'm warming to her. a third season straight of her being condescending to almost everyone outside of her family/friends does nothing to endear her to me. she still blames Whistledown for "ruining" her when she ruined herself by ignoring everyone's warnings and running around town doing socially unacceptable things. she still has a right to be upset with Whistledown/Pen but she needs to take accountability for her own shit. but her understanding and patience with cressida was really surprising and i liked that a lot so far. i can see why people are shipping them now!

-HOW HAVE PENELOPE AND COLIN NOT EVEN DANCED ONCE YET WHAT THE FUCK jk i'm sure we'll obvs get that in part 2 but i'm so accustomed to them having a dance in one of the first few episodes that this truly threw me.

-colin's wet dream. loved it. ngl i was fully expecting a masturbation scene in his bed and not only bc i wrote one into my fic lmao

-i fucking called it from the start that the first kiss would be in the featherington garden based off that screengrab. everything about it screamed romeo+juliet. that was my favorite scene so far it was so beautifully shot and the way he goes for the lightest kiss at first and then hesitates and then GOES BACK FOR MORE???? when he realizes he's super into it???? i collapsed. i fucking squee'd like it was 2003.

-i've been complaining on reddit that the makeup in the promos was fucking awful and way too heavy. it comes across much lighter in the final product/show and i'm so relieved because i was truly worried about that. nicola is a stunning stunning woman and i can't help but admire her every time she is on screen and the awful makeup they put on her for those promos were overtaking her face.

-two major changes i truly appreciate (bc i'm normally very critical about shondaland's writing)

1: the journal scene. i loved that colin had pen hide in his study. i really wanted them to get caught there. i love that the journal fight wasn't as huge as it was in the book because the book made it go on for too long and colin was unreasonably mad about it. i'm so glad it was a minor thing here and that they still showed that colin was really pleased when pen praised his writing and he said he'd consider letting her read more and left it at that.

2: the carriage proposal. my biggest issue with the book bc colin was borderline abusive when he pulled her out of the carriage and made her fall. hated that so i'm glad here he was pleased and still mischievous and held out his hand for her and proposed and wasn't rude and impatient like he was in the book. also the carriage scene was hot as hell and i did not fucking expect colin to fucking finger her right then and there with the goddamned WINDOWS OPEN. tbh i was expecting boob action like in the book but that was a surprising change.

-pacing. too many storylines makes for a too-quickly paced episode. i feel like we were catapulted into everything and my head was spinning. this is a show that, because it insists on such a large fucking cast, would immensely benefit from a 12 or even 20 episode run rather than eight. but we know netflix is a cheap bitch so that will never happen and shows this dense suffer for it.

-music. i do not care about covers. i just don't. it makes no difference to me who is added to the soundtrack or the easter egg hunt of finding which song was used in which scene. the original scores made for the show are beautiful on their own and don't distract like the covers do and that's all i'll say.

-already seeing reviews online from people complaining polin have no chemistry??? idk what show they're watching but it ain't this one. this has been a slow slow buildup and if you can't feel their chemistry then idk what to tell you bc it is there. (and this is gonna be a hot take and unpopular opinion but personally out of all the main couples so far i found daphne and simon's chemistry to feel really forced and kind of cringey so take my opinion as you will but pen and colin have LEAGUES more chemistry as friends to lovers here)

BUT: one could also blame this on the awful pacing of these first four episodes so far. it really would have been nice to have more filler time of col and pen doing the flirting lessons since that was cut too short too soon.

phew--.

i will most definitely have more to say later on but these are my immediate thoughts and i had to get them all down . if you got this far down then bless you and thanks for listening and lmk your thoughts! i'm dying to talk about this.

#leigh speaks #major spoiler talk #bridgerton season 3 #polin #i will do a rewatch for SURE next week i'm already obsessed

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 year

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Can you do ““My family thinks we are dating.” With Dylan duke and or Luke Hughes? Thanks!

A gentle kind of love

Being Luke’s cousin meant that not only was she destined to be attached to his hip the moment she entered university with him, but it also meant that the entire Umich hockey team came with him. Of course, being close with the team came with its perks, having an entire team of bodyguards and overprotective father figures being one, and unconditional friendships being another

Dylan always held a soft spot in her heart, he had become her second in command the moment they were introduced, the one who would help her team up against Luke when he was in need of some humbling, and the guy she would spill her guts to while her cousin was out of tune with her emotions.

“Yes Dylan I’m going to the family skate,” she said over the phone as she sat in the back of Jim and Ellen’s car, “Luke has your wallet in his hockey bag, remember last night when you said you were gonna forget it so he took it for you” Ellen smiled as she looked through the rearview mirror to the girl who laughed over the phone as Dylan refused to hang up, stressing over the upcoming game versus his brother and Ohio state university. “Ok, k bye see you later tonight”

Jim cleared his throat as they continued on the highway, “So you and Dylans huh?” Ellen turned around in her seat to see her niece red in the face. “It’s not like that” “Are you sure, I get a call nearly every week from Luke complaining that you two are way too close” the woman mused as she left her to her thoughts

Sure Dylan and her had been close, and the lines between friends and something more had been blurred slightly, but there was no talk of romance between the two.

She sat in the back of the car spiralling as they pulled up to the stadium where the family skate and game would be held over the weekend, “Don’t forget love, we have dinner with the Dukes tonight after the skate and media stuff” Ellen smiled as she handed the girl the hockey bag full of hats, mats, and skates from the trunk.

“Come on Yn, stop whining,” Luca said as he stood behind the girl who was still very lacking in the skating department. “I look like a newborn baby deer,” she said looking down at her shaking legs, “just cause you guys practically live on the ice doesn’t mean I do too” “You’re best friends with an entire college hockey team, it just kinda seems like something that comes with the job” Rutger added as he pretended to push her over making her lose her balance and falling onto the ice, a smile on her face as Dylan extended his hand out for her to take.

“Just hold my hand I’m not gonna let you fall,” he said as they skated around the outdoor rink. “I just threw up in my mouth” Mackie whispered to Nolan. “Let him have his moment, well chirp him later”

“So you’re telling me that they aren’t together?” Dylan’s mom looked over to her son Tyler and Luke as they shook their heads, both of them clueless as to what was happening between the couple. “She was telling me in the car that they are just friends” Ellen shrugged as she finished tying up her skate, “I don’t believe it though”

The Duke and Hughes family left early from the event in order to make it to their reservation at a small restaurant not even ten minutes away. She sat in between Dylan and Luke as the two older women sat on the other side of the table, skeptically staring at the pair as they lowly talked in their own separate conversation from the rest of the group.

“Your mom is glaring at us” she whispered to him with a laugh as they looked over to Ellen and Ms. Duke who were pretending to stare at their menus “My family thinks we are dating” “Ellen asked me if we were earlier too” her cheeks flushed pink as he laughed.

Duker’s leg bounced as he stared at her flustered expression, “Im gonna ask something and don’t feel pressured at all to say yes” She nodded with a smile and turned back to face him, “Do you want to go out on a date when we get back to Ann Arbour?” He asked sweetly making a grin break out on her face “I would love that” she pecked him on the cheek as he looked away for a second

“I KNEW IT!”

#rowans100followercelly<3 #dylan duke #Dylan duke x reader #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes #umich hockey #ethan edwards #nhl #umich imagine #hockey au

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commander-krios · 5 months

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A Safe Place

Fandom: Mass Effect Pairing: Female Shepard & Jeff "Joker" Moreau Rating: Teen Summary: Jeff Moreau is her best friend, her safe place in a galaxy full of war. And he'll always be there to catch her. Words: 2481 Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Post-Akuze, Mild Gore, Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon Disabled Character, Scars, Healing/Recovering Injury, Survivor's Guilt

Read on AO3

September 2177, Tiptree, St. Luke System, Llewyn Nebula

As Aurora Shepard pulled the shirt over her head, her eyes were drawn to the scars trailing down her back. Red puckered scar tissue several shades darker than her skin tone twisted in a gruesome design across her back. Thresher maw acid burned into tissue, muscle. Searing pain that made her claw at her skin. The accompanying sting when she rolled in the sandy dirt in an attempt to rid herself of the acid.

Shaking the memories from her mind, she braced her hands against the sink and watched the water swirl in the bowl. It’d only been a few weeks since Akuze, since fifty marines died in a sandy mass grave, and it still haunted her at every turn.

The sight of a suspiciously flat patch of ground. The howl of the wind. The tremble of the earth beneath her feet.

She’d never be rid of the desperate fear, of the regret she felt every time she glimpsed her reflection, knowing that there were fifty men and women who’d never have the chance again.

Why was she spared the same gruesome fate?

When Shepard glanced in the mirror, a blank expression stared back. Dull yellow light only deepened the dark circles under her eyes, the bruises on her chin. She may have survived the maw on Akuze, but there were far worse scars she carried. She could still hear Toombs’ screams as the maw pulled him beneath the sand, fingers bloody as he tried to pull himself out. Seeing his terror, hearing her name on his lips as the sand choked him-

Shuddering, she turned away from her reflection, letting the memories fade into nothing but wisps. She’d promised Anderson not to dwell on them, fearing that she might lose herself in the past and neglect the present. She tried to heed the advice, but the dark recesses of her mind called out, tempting her back into swallowing despair.

Tonight, there’d be no sleep.

So instead, she walked.

Tiptree was never quiet.

Aurora supposed the colony was comforting in its own way: the bugs chirping in the fields, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the cry of a wild animal in the distance. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. She’d never had the chance to enjoy the stillness of a summer night, not when the majority of her life was spent on space stations and starships. Not when she was shuttled between missions, a helmet on her head and a commander in her ear.

She’d never seen the stars planetside before. To her surprise, they looked the same from a viewport, but that didn’t make them any less beautiful. Bright, burning pinpoints of light she would never tire staring at.

Shepard shivered, the summer wind blowing through her thin shirt. She wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers catching the edge of her raw scars and she flinched, nearly biting her tongue as the pain seared her nerves. She’d been shot, stabbed, burned before in different situations with an array of different weapons. They all hurt like hell, but the pain easily passed with some pills and medigel. Sometimes, she would need minor surgery to remove shrapnel, but the medical technology was the best it'd ever been. Most times it didn’t scar.

But thresher maws weren’t bullets or thermal burns.

She’d have those scars for the rest of her life.

The porch swing was cool against her skin as she sat, goosebumps rising along her arms and legs. She didn’t rub them away, fearing more pain if she nudged her scars. Instead, she rested her elbows on her knees, her face settling in her hands as she fought the urge to cry.

Jeff was so kind. After she’d woken up on Arcturus Station, he was there by her hospital bed, willing to be the one to help her through the pain and trauma.

I owe you, he’d said. For all the times you’ve helped me.

Aurora had wanted to argue with him, but she’d been in agony and beyond exhausted, afraid to sleep alone with no protection against the shadows that lurked around every corner. He’d barely left her side since the Alliance had rescued her, the least she could do was give him the opportunity to feel useful. If it meant something to him, then it did to her as well.

In the end, it didn’t change the fact that sleep still eluded her, the terror that clung to her since Akuze refused to release its claws and let her rest.

There’d been nowhere for her stay while she recovered. Hannah Shepard had long ago sold their apartment on Arcturus, the majority of her time spent aboard spaceships working. Daniel hadn’t returned to the space station since Elysium, preferring the company of his boyfriend and their small apartment in Vancouver. And Aurora…well, she hadn’t called anywhere home for some time.

Mr. Moreau had offered to take her in, assuring her that she could rest in the quiet comfort of Tiptree, that he would make sure no one came knocking. His wife was a doctor if she was concerned about being a burden which was a preposterous thought to begin with.

Then there was Jeff, who didn’t even have to do much to convince her to come stay in his childhood home with his rambunctious kid sister.

Now she was sitting outside of their home in the dark, the rest of the house asleep, while she dealt with the nightmares she saw whether she closed her eyes or not. She didn’t know how long a human could go without sleep, but she figured now was as good a time as any to find out.

Rubbing her eyes, she tried to imagine something else, anything to distract her, but the only thing that came to mind was the friend who wouldn’t give up on her, no matter what happened.

Jeff Moreau was the only person who didn’t care that her mother was Hannah Shepard, or that Admiral Steven Hackett was her stepfather, or that she was a biotic. He saw her for who she was, not what she was, and the more she thought about it, thought about him, the more she realized that she was just a scared girl who relied on those that were so much better than her.

You don’t deserve him, not as a friend, and certainly not as something more.

She roughly wiped a stray tear from her cheek and glanced up at the night sky once more, her fingers drifting to the crystal star dangling from the chain on her neck. It was nights like this when she’d think of her father, of when the two of them would stare out the enormous viewing windows on Arcturus and he’d tell her which solar system each pinprick of light came from. He’d visited some of them once, a long time before she and her brother were born.

She remembered being afraid that he regretted his choice, to stay on the space station with her and Daniel, to relegate his research to a lab and not be out among the stars like their mother was. But he didn’t.

“You and Daniel are my greatest triumphs and most beloved treasures.”

Aurora wondered if he still felt the same. If, wherever he was, he looked at her accomplishments and was proud.

Someone should be proud of her, at least.

The creak of wood planks alerted her that she was no longer alone and she tensed, ready to fight if need be. The glow of the porch light illuminated Jeff in the dark as he leaned on his crutches, his hair a mess of ginger strands, shadows hiding his face but she knew, as she gazed at him in the dim light, that he couldn’t sleep either. She only hoped it wasn’t because of her.

Her heart pounded a painful beat in her chest when he silently sat beside her on the bench, a baggy hoodie keeping him warm in the chilly night. His hands were tucked into the pockets, his gaze on the sky above, the stars a sight to behold on solid ground. Silence stretched between them, comfortable and familiar, and they slipped into it with open arms, neither needing words to feel the connection between them.

“You’re quiet.” He said eventually, breaking through the quiet before it turned awkward. His eyes were hidden from view when she glanced at him, ignoring the painful pull of her scars. “Something on your mind?”

So much. But there was too much pain to share at this point. Besides the fact that she didn’t know where to start, unburdening her worries would only add to the issues he had. With the smallest of grins on her face, something that was impossible not to have around him, she glanced sideways at him. “That’s what my therapist is for.”

He rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, it’s the ‘best one in the Alliance’.”

“Oh, so you’ve met her too?” Aurora sighed, the anxiety untangling its vines slightly from around her lungs. She could breathe a little easier in Jeff’s presence.

“Alliance mandated therapy sessions after my run in with Nate Doyle all those years ago. That was fun.”

There was no missing the sarcasm.

He bumped her good arm with his shoulder, soft enough that she barely moved but the touch was welcome, comforting… she didn’t realize how much she missed their easy comradery. “Come on. Spilling your guts to me won’t result in being discharged from the Navy.”

“I’m a Marine, Jeff.”

“Hey, it’s all run by the same assholes. Just humor me. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people aboard the SSV Benjamin Davis that have no sense of humor… it’s an epidemic, Aurora.”

“My mother commands that ship.” She said with a laugh. The sound was almost foreign to her ears, but the smile stayed.

He grinned at her in triumph. “I know.”

Rolling her eyes, she bumped him back, a bark of a laugh escaping her. It felt good to laugh, so good in fact that she felt guilty for doing so when there were fifty marines who couldn’t do the same anymore. Not when they were sinking into the sands of Akuze, nothing but putrid damaged bodies, nothing left worth recovering-

“Hey.”

Blinking back tears, Aurora realized Jeff was watching her, those green eyes she sought comfort in so many times studying every twitch of her eyes, every wrinkle in her brow, every gasp of breath between her lips.

“I’m here, Rori. You don’t have to do this alone.” He covered her shaking hands with one of his one, pressing down to help still the tremors. “We’re a team, remember?”

“Jeff, I-” She hastily wiped a tear before it could fall, hating how easy it was for her to hide behind the Shepard persona. The very one that her mother so diligently helped craft. Because if Hannah Shepard was anything, it was a woman who didn’t abide weakness in her children.

Life on Tiptree was different from life on Arcturus. It was peaceful, far from the politics of the Citadel or the Alliance military. Far from the horrors of war or death. It was tempting to consider the possibility of disappearing here. After everything with Elysium and then Akuze, she wondered if she’d get away with it… disappearing.

She’d never do it, she knew that. Not when so much of her young life, service to the Systems Alliance had been drilled into her. Not when her father had sacrificed so much to give her a life worth living.

“I’m sorry.”

The words slipped out before she even realized she’d said them. She flinched at how weak her voice sounded, how weak she was, even after years in the military. If her mother could see her now.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

But it was. She didn’t know how he didn’t see that. After everything he knew of her, Jeff still saw the best parts.

“Don’t argue with me. Just look up.” Jeff whispered, pointing to some distant thing in the sky. When her eyes followed his finger, she saw the tail end of a comet as it completed its arc. “Shut up and make a wish.”

She considered her options, knowing what her instincts were screaming at her to say. To wish happiness for the galaxy, for peace or some other platitude that Jeff would immediately wave away with a scoff and frown. He wasn’t looking for a serious answer. He was providing her with a distraction. One she desperately needed like a lifeline.

Tapping her chin with a finger, she watched as a smile curled his lips. Good, he was hooked already. “A wish isn’t something to just blurt out into the dark like this, Jeff. It needs to be considered carefully, mulled over.”

“God, you love making games boring, don’t you?”

“Take that back right now.”

“What are you going to do? It’s not like you can tickle me without breaking at least one of my bones.” He lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers mockingly. “And your fancy superpowers are off limits, freak.”

A surprised laugh escaped her and she found that, this time, it didn’t hurt so much. “Ouch. Not holding back tonight?”

“Make a wish, Shepard.”

Sighing, she glanced up at the sky again, realizing that this was what home was. Not the place, not really. But the people she carried with her. In her thoughts and in her heart. Her father: who was now resting after a lifetime of fighting. Her twin: who was out there fighting the same battles she was. And Jeff Moreau, her best friend… the first person she could count on when the shit hit the fan.

“I wish… to have more nights like this.”

With you.

She couldn’t say it, not when it was mushy and Jeff didn’t do the touchy feely emotional shit. But she knew nothing would be the same without her best friend.

“Well, we can but you need to promise me one thing.”

She glanced at him, eyebrow raised curiously, knowing that whatever came out of his mouth was most likely going to be insulting. It wouldn’t be Jeff if it wasn’t. “What?”

“You need to stop trying to get yourself killed, Rori. I’m too young and beautiful for grey hair.”

She laughed, resisting the urge to shove him. He was terrible, but he made her feel normal, accepted, and alive. It was selfish, but she needed him to keep going, however long that was. “That’s a tall order, Moreau. Didn’t you say you wanted to fly my future ship? How are you going to keep your luscious hair doing that?”

“With me at your back, you can’t lose.”

Funnily enough, she trusted him so much that she believed him.

#my writing #mass effect #mass effect fanfic #me fanfic #femshep #aurora shepard #shepard #f!shepard #jeff joker moreau #joker moreau #aurora x joker #akuze

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harunayuuka2060 · 2 years

Text

Diavolo: All of us are here to celebrate MC's 20th birthday.

Lucifer: And not just that, we are here to tell you that MC...

Lucifer: *smiles* -is now officially the mirror of sins.

*everyone claps*

Barbatos: Let us call the birthday celebrant. MC? Please come here on stage.

MC: *shakes their head*

Levi: *looks troubled* M-MC, you need to go to the stage.

MC: *shakes their head vigorously*

Lucifer: Levi, what's going on there? *stern*

Levi: Um... MC doesn't want to.

Diavolo: Why? What's wrong?

Levi: MC, what's wrong? You can tell me.

MC: *pouts* The chair...

Levi: The chair?

Diavolo, Lucifer, and Barbatos: *looks at the chair MC is supposed to sit on*

*realization*

Barbatos: Oh. They don't like the color.

Diavolo: *laughs* Go ahead and replace it, Barbatos.

Barbatos: *smiles* Yes, young master.

Lucifer: MC, is there anything else you like?

MC: ...

MC: Gold!

Mammon: *bursts out laughing*

Asmo: *whacks his head*

Diavolo: I'm sure Mephisto is willing to give you some gold.

Mephistopheles: That's right. Everything for my baby.

Solomon: MC will just give those gold to Mammon.

Mammon: Hey! We just happened to like the same things!

Satan: No. MC, do you like women?

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* Yes.

Asmo: That's my MC~.

Beel: You're all bad influences.

Lucifer: *sigh*

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

Michael: MC, happy birthday. Here's my gift for you.

MC: *shakes the box first*

Michael: *chuckles*

MC: *excitedly opens it* Wow! Paint!

Michael: It is. I've heard you really like colors. *gets it from them* You can use this paint on your wings. Do you want to try it?

MC: *nods* *turns around* *spreading their wings wide*

Michael: *smiles* *gently applies the paint on their feathers*

MC: *laughs* It tickles!

Michael: *chuckles*

Raphael, Luke, and Simeon: *watching them*

Simeon: How long can Michael stay here?

Raphael: Two hours He has to go back immediately after that.

Luke: *sad frowns* Can't they just lift the restrictions on him?

Simeon: Well, the others don't still trust him. I'm sure Michael is aware of that.

Michael: There. I'm done painting your wings.

MC: How does it look?

Michael: *smiles softly* *tearing up* Beautiful.

MC: *turns to hug him*

Michael: !!!

MC: I like this gift, Michael! Thank you!

Michael: ...

Michael: *embraces them back*

Simeon: Oh, no. He's really going to cry.

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

Asmo: Solomon! What are you doing to MC?!

Solomon and MC: *at the rooftop of the House Of Lamentation*

Solomon: MC wants to try gliding. *holding MC by the waist, ready to drop them*

MC: I'm ready!

Solomon: Okay!

Asmo: Don't you FUCKING DAAAAAARE!!!

Belphie: Asmo, I think you're losing some hair.

Satan: He can't hear you right now.

Mammon: *his camera ready*

Beel: Mammon, what's that for?

Mammon: This? Their fans are asking for new photos.

Satan, Belphie, and Beel: ...

Mammon: The fans are kids.

Satan: Oh. Okay. We have no problem.

MC: Weeeeeeeeee~!

Asmo: MC!

Lucifer: *goes to catch them*

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: What are you doing?

MC: Gliding!

Lucifer: *frowns*

Levi: Uh-oh. MC's about to get scolded.

Lucifer: You're doing it wrong. Let's go to a much higher building. I'll show you.

Asmo: ...

Asmo: Lucifer?!! Not you too?!!

Solomon and his brothers: *laughs*

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me brothers #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me mephistopheles #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me raphael #obey me michael #mirroring!mc #ending of mirroring!mc

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kingcunny · 6 months

Note

I do think Aegon has gender fuckery going on but it's not at all related to Aemond the way Viserys/Daemon are tied up, and is much more related to Alicent and the Alicent/Helaena mother-dyad (or the Viserys/Rhaenyra father-daughter dyad). Grass is greener on the other side asf, sort of mirroring Rhaenyra's "I will never be a son."

As for Aemond, I do think he's a "family man" but more so in the fucked up sense of fatherhood. He feels entitled to the benefits of the position of patriarch due to masculine merit (it sort of echoes Rhaenyra's "I had to work for my inheritance"). Much of this entitlement and grind for the top is born out of inferiority complexes and victimisation (by Aegon specifically in various instances, though one ought not ignore the failure and fault of the actual adults), and as with most endeavours toward the patriarchal peak, Aemond ends up victimising various people around him (which appears to be mostly by accident LOL)

i mean i think thats what me and that other anon were saying. if aegon does have some gender issues its disconnected from aemond. (unlike the gender nuclear meltdown of viserys/daemon/rhaenyra) the idea that rhaenyra wants to be a boy and aegon wants to be a girl is very funny though, “grass is greener” exactly. that sibling rivalry thing kids do were they each think the other is the parents favorite. and *if only* they were a boy/girl then all that attention would belong to Them instead. (and i do noottt think aemond has any issues with being a Man. he is very comfortable with the power and authority that comes with being a man and Very Comfortable with demeaning women for being “lesser”. while aegon i could see wishing he was a girl so he WOULDNT have the expectations that he does.)

when i say aemond isnt a “family man” i mean it more in the ‘hes not the good little loyal boy who loves his family and will do ANYTHING for them’ type way. he HATES those people. (“the crown looks better on me”, abandoning his family without a second thought) hes the third born and second son. hes just a spare, to both viserys and alicent, and they treat him like one. the only reason he wants to be the eldest is because he thinks itll get him the attention and power he thinks aegon has. personally i see it as less of a ‘fatherhood’ thing and more as just a Power thing. it just so happens that fathers are the head of power. (not that, with viserys as his father, he has any concept of that lol) i do not think aemond wants to be a father or would have any interest in his child(ren) had he lived to see them. because even though he would have power over them, thats not the kind of power he wants.

i also disagree that in aemonds reach for power hes ‘accidently’ victimizing those around him. lukes death mightve been an accident, but aemond did not accidentally repeatedly call rhaenyra a whore and imply that as a woman shes too weak to rule. his execution of the entirety of house strong over a grudge (excluding the one he wanted to fuck) was not an accident. he knows what hes doing.

#the inferiority #complex does come into play with aemonds Desire for Power #but thats most second sons who wish they were eldest #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #asks

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first-edition · 1 year

Text

Turning Green

Smut-mas day 8

Aemond Targaryen x !Velaryon! reader.

Sum- You see aemond throught the castle as the female guests from your wedding party flit with him and give him gifts. This makes you jealous despite knowing your husband only has an eye for you.

CW-Smut, p in v, Unprotected (wrap it before you tap it), oral fem receiving, Virgin reader, demonds daughter.

You watch as your new found husband talks with the other lady’s from the nearby kingdoms. You grip your chalace not realizing your knuckles are turning white.

“my love?” You father leans down to you before sitting next to you.

“id suggest you release you grip on the cup for it has done nothing to you for you to want to strangle it.” He says you gasp setting it down just now realizing your actions.

“what’s wrong?” He asks

“nothing.” You say sitting you straight. As your eyes stay on aemond as a girl catches his hair in her hands. You stand quickly.

“daughter.” Daemon says. You look at your father. He stand up to you moving closer to you.

“jelousy in a heathen to us all.” He say kissing your cheek then leaving to walk off with renherya to the dance floor.

“y/n?” You brother Luke walks up to you. You smile at him as he holds his hand out to you.

“join me for a dance?” He asks you nod taking his hand.

He leads you to the dance floor as your favorite song begins.

A flash of your wedding dress catches aemonds eye immedetly turning his focus away from the girls and watching you as you dance with Luke. His weight shift as he realizing he wasn’t paying attention to you. Not that he was paying attention to the women of the court thier but he was certainly more involved with them.

“excuse me.!” He huffs slapping a girl hand away from him and makes his way over to you and Luke. he puts his hand on Luke’s shoulder stopping your actions from dancing.

“You have my wife in your arms sir.” Aemond huffs.

“yes and my lady sister.” Luke says

“it’s okay brother.” You say he nods bowing to you before walking off and aemond takes over.

“I see your enthrawllment with the women of the kingdom is over.” You say harshly. As you begin to dance with him.

“pardon?” He asks “she Took you hair into her hand did she not.” You retort.

“y/n-” you pull away from his as the song ends and curtsies to him.

“goodnight husband.” You say picking up the front of your dress and walking out of the hall your ladies in waiting following you close behind.

Time passes as your ladies help undress you getting you into your night wear you stand in front of the mirror brushing out your long white hair unlike your sister who have thier textured hair in dreads you got the straight hair genes from your father.

The door of your room opens as aemond walks in throwing his coat onto the chair and takes off his boots.

“Leave us-” he demands but you cut him off.

“No…stay.” You say your ladies stay as you commanded. And aemond walks up to you behind you as you view yourself in the mirror.

“Just as your wedding dress, your attitude is green with envy Ābrazȳrys.” He replies to you.

“and yet here I stand with ebony skin.” You bite back.

He sighs and move around taking the brush from your hand putting it on the side table. He puts his hands on your cheek.

“i promise you i meant nothing by talking to them.” He says you sigh turning your head away from him. You nod at your lady’s and nod to them they curstsie and leave closing the door behind them.

“I did not marry you out of a betrothal I married you out of love. You know this i would not burden you by leaving now, or ever you are my one and only..please let me make it up to you.” He says as you look at him.

Your cheek turn pink with blush as you realize what he means the day you’ve been waiting for the night you’ve longed…was for aemond to fully take you as his.

“y-you cant..the meisters have to wa-”

“fuck the meisters they do not get to see something that is rightfully mine. They do not get to experience something that husband and wife share.” He huffs stepping closer to you.

That’s the reason why you fell in love with aemond. His softness he only shows you. You wrap your arms around his neck pressing your lips against his. He kisses you back with the same passion his hands roaming up and down your waist as his lips kiss you.

Your hands move to his shirt pulling it off over his head exposing his bear chest to you. He pulls back but not before pecking your lips again. His hands move up to the front ties of your short nightgown undoing them. The cotton covering slips off your shoulders and to the floor pooling at your feet as your naked body is exposed to your husband.

“May I?” He ask wanting nothing more that to touch you. You take his hand in yours bringing it up to meet your breast.

“a-as my lord husband you are i-inclined to my whole body as if it were your own.” You say mustering all the courage you can being this exposed with aemond makes your core ache in need.

“i want you to make love to me tonight..u-use me as you wish.” You recite what Alicent told you to say.

He chuckles letting go of your boob as his hand are replaced on your hips pulling you closer to him.

“There’s no doubt in the world i want to make love to you. But i will not force it from you. This night is about you my princess. I dont want you reciting anymore of my mothers trickery.” He says knowing how much mishfeif his mother is really into.

You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off kissing you again. This time he picks you up walking to the bed. He gentally places you down on the plush mattress he sits up taking off his pants you get a look at his large ecrection suddenly fearing what all the women in your court have told you about men with larger extremities. Saying it hurts more than you could imagine, or that they always force you to take it, your main lady in waiting told you that her sister bled for a week after.

Not realizing your lost in your thoughts aemond moves back to you hovering over you between your legs. “my love? What troubling you we do not have to continue if you so wish it.” He replies.

“No! I wan to be yours.” You say your arms moving over your chest.

“what’s wrong?” He asks of genuine concern.

you take a second before answering the embarrassment filling your mind. But you know aemond wants to talk it out as he usually does.

“Will it hurt..?” You asks sheepishly.

He kisses youre fore head staying there for a few moments before answering.

“yes….but only for a moment i said i would take car of you and that’s what i’ll do. If ever you want me to stop just say so and i will cease all actions.

You look up at him. And nod

“do me one thing.” You reply he nods moving closer to you.

“t-take it off…please im bare for you i would quite like to see my husbands full face. “ You say about his eye patch.

“it is not pretty.” He says you shake your head disargreeign with him.

He sighs sitting back up you follow him sitting up to watch as close as you can.

He reaches behind his head and unclips the back of the patch letting it release itself from his face.

You see the large ghastly scar that Luke had left all those years ago, but between the lines a bright sahpprie stone shines in place of his missing eye. You take the eye patch in your hand placing it on the floor and then place your hand on his cheek brushing your thumb over the scar that hits his cheek.

“i told you its not-” “you’re beautiful.” You say interrupting him he chuckles never before has he been called beautiful as its a ladies term but the sound of it from your voice rings through his mind like a symphony. You place light kisses on his face eventually meeting his lips. He pulls you onto his lap his hands wandering your body. As he soon lays you back.

Kissing down your body he Mets your core kissing and nipping at your inner thigh before opening his mouth letting his tounge hit your slit of your cunt you gasp covering your mouth embarrassed by the sounds your yet to make.

His tounge swirls along your clit stimulating your pussy. He glances up at you seeing the pleausre in your lust filled eyes. He buries his tounge down into you you cant help but moan at the feeling.

He raises his hand to your core thumbing at your clit but eventually enters in a finger slowing moving it in and out stroking to sponges spot above. He smiles watching your reaction to just one of his slender fingers. He begins to insert the second becarful and watching your moves for anything uncomfertable.

Thrusting them slowly into you he moves back down licking and sucking on your clit you clench around his finger feeling the sensation the women in the kingdom have talked about.

“Its alright my love..let go.” He says making you cum around his finger. He the two digits out of you and moves up your body kissing spots as he goes. Your chest rises and fall with the deep breaths that leave your lungs.

“good job Ñuhon.” He says kissing your neck your hands runs along his shoulder and back. You turn your head looking at him.

“im gonna start now alright?” He asks as if he need permission. You nod bitting your lower lip.

He looks down at him self angling to begin entering you as you feel his hard tip at your entrance.

He presses his lips against yours once more distracting you as he slowly pushes himself in. You whine against his lips wrapping your arms aoround him.

He pulls back looking at you.

“you alright?” He ask you nod

“keep going” you reply he nods back to you and continues his push into your tight cunt.

“Ngh!” Your nails run down his back. Enduring the pressure. He distracts you slightly by telling you how good your doing, making sure you know you can tell him to stop.

Finally he’s completely submerged in you. Staying for you to get used to him he waits for your signal for him to start moving. You shift your hips letting him know its okay to start moving. He begins to slowly thrust against you. His cock gliding starkly through your wet cavern making him quietly moan.

You kiss him letting him know he can go harder he listens and moves faster cause a moan to leave your mouth you cover your mouth muffling to other sounds this apparently displeases aemond as he takes your hand off your mouth giving your lips a peck.

“i want to hear you Issa mēre ,” he says. Looking into your eyes he thrusts up into you getting a noise outta you that makes your eyes shut and his lips to curl into a smirk.

He begins to move at a fast normal pace. Leaving to both of you moaning and touching each other. You feel that familiar feeling from before this time it’s stronger so much better.

“a-aemond..ah.” You moan out

“i got you Issa mēre” he says thrusting rougher into you making you cum. As your nails scrape along his back surely, accidentally, leaving marks. Your pussy clenching around him is enough to make him cum as his thrusts stutter.

He slows down chasing your highs. He carefully pulls out of you moving your hair out of your face kissing all over.

“Avy jorrāelan sīr olvie” He tell you he loves you as you pull him close to you smiling telling him you love him back.

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond smut #aemond x reader smut #hod smut #H.O.D Smut

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