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writing-with-sophia · 9 months

Text

Dialogues

Sad:

"I never thought I would end up alone, but here I am, drowning in loneliness."

"Sometimes the hardest part is pretending to be happy when all you want to do is cry."

"I trusted you with my heart, and you shattered it into a million irreparable pieces."

"The pain of losing you is unbearable. I can still hear your voice echoing in my mind."

"I thought we had forever, but forever turned out to be just a fleeting moment."

"I miss the person I used to be before life broke me."

"I wake up every morning hoping to find a reason to smile, but all I find is emptiness."

"I gave you my all, and you left me with nothing but a broken heart."

"In the end, all we had were shattered dreams and unspoken words."

"Sometimes, the saddest stories are the ones that are left untold."

"I built my world around you, only to watch it crumble to ashes."

"The tears I cry in solitude speak volumes of the pain I carry within."

"Love has become a bittersweet memory, a reminder of what could have been."

"I was once a flame, but now I am nothing more than a flickering ember."

"The silence between us is deafening, drowning out the love we once shared."

"I thought I knew what happiness was, but it slipped through my fingers like sand."

"The ache in my heart is a constant reminder of the love I lost."

"We were two broken souls, trying to heal each other, but instead, we only caused more pain."

"I am a prisoner of my own emotions, trapped in a never-ending cycle of sadness."

"The world keeps moving forward, but my heart remains stuck in the past."

"I long for a love that will never fade, for a connection that will never be severed."

"I thought I had found my forever, but forever turned out to be temporary."

"Every goodbye feels like a small death, a part of me fading away."

"The nights are the hardest, when the darkness matches the emptiness within my soul."

"The weight of my regrets is suffocating, a constant reminder of my failures."

"I am tired of pretending that I'm okay when all I want to do is fall apart."

"I used to believe in happy endings, but now I question if they exist at all."

"I am drowning in a sea of sadness, desperately searching for a lifeline."

"The world feels colorless, as if all the joy has been drained from my existence."

"I am surrounded by people, yet I have never felt more alone."

Happy:

"I can't believe we made it! Against all odds, we've achieved our dream."

"You make me feel like the luckiest person in the world, just by being by my side."

"This moment right here, with you, is pure bliss. I never want it to end."

"Remember when we used to dream about this? Now, it's a reality!"

"The world is full of possibilities, and together, we can conquer them all."

"Every time I see your smile, I'm reminded of how beautiful life can be."

"Today, I choose happiness, and I choose you to be a part of it."

"No matter what challenges we face, we'll overcome them together, hand in hand."

"I never thought I could feel this much joy until you came into my life."

"In your embrace, I've found my safe haven, my own little piece of paradise."

"Just being with you makes even the simplest moments feel extraordinary."

"Life is a journey, and I'm grateful to have you as my favorite travel companion."

"You are the sunshine that brightens my darkest days. Thank you for being here."

"Let's dance like nobody's watching and savor every beat of this magical rhythm."

"I believe in us, in our love story. Our future is filled with endless happiness."

"With you, even the ordinary becomes extraordinary. Every day is an adventure."

"Love is the melody that fills our hearts, creating a symphony of pure joy."

"You complete me in ways I never knew were possible. Together, we are whole."

"The world may be chaotic, but in your arms, I find peace and tranquility."

"Let's chase our dreams fearlessly, for I know that with you, anything is possible."

"Life's challenges may come our way, but our love will always light the path ahead."

"I can't help but smile when I think about our future together. It's filled with endless possibilities."

"Every time I look into your eyes, I see a reflection of our love, and it fills me with pure happiness."

"You are my greatest cheerleader, always encouraging me to reach for the stars. I'm grateful for your unwavering support."

"In this journey called life, I'm grateful to have you as my partner, my best friend, and the love of my life."

"Together, we create a world that is filled with laughter, joy, and unconditional love."

"Thank you for loving me just the way I am. Your acceptance and love bring me boundless happiness."

"Let's celebrate every milestone, big or small, with laughter, hugs, and a toast to our beautiful journey."

"With you, I've found my happy place. It's not a location but a feeling, and it's with you wherever we go."

"The greatest adventure is loving you, and I'm excited to see where our love story takes us next."

Angry:

"I refuse to be treated like this. From now on, things are going to change, whether you like it or not."

"You've underestimated me for the last time. I'm about to show you just how strong I can be."

"You think you can just get away with everything? Well, I won't let you destroy me any longer."

"You've taken advantage of my kindness for far too long. Prepare to face my wrath."

"I won't stand by and let you manipulate everyone around you. Your games end here."

"You've hurt not only me but also everyone who cared about us. I won't let you get away with it."

"You've awakened a fire within me, and I promise you, it's a fire you won't be able to extinguish."

"You've shown me your true colors, and I'm disgusted by what I see. I want nothing to do with you anymore."

"Your actions have consequences, and I'm going to make sure you pay for what you've done."

"You think I'm weak? Well, get ready to witness the strength that comes from being pushed too far."

"I'm not going to let you ruin my life any longer. I'm taking back control, starting right now."

"You've broken my heart, and now you're going to feel the weight of my anger."

"You've manipulated everyone around you, but I see through your facade. Your reign of deception ends now."

"You've caused so much pain and destruction. I won't rest until justice is served."

"You thought you could destroy me, but you've only made me stronger. Brace yourself."

"I'm done playing nice. It's time for you to face the consequences of your selfish actions."

"You've pushed me to my limit, and now you're going to see just how fierce I can be."

"You've underestimated my resilience. I won't let you break me. I'll rise above it all."

"You've shown your true colors, and I'm cutting you out of my life for good."

"You've hurt the people I love, and for that, I'll make sure you regret it."

"You've betrayed my trust, and trust me, you'll regret the day you crossed me."

"You've played your games for far too long. Now it's my turn to play, and I guarantee you won't like the outcome."

"I can't believe you betrayed me like this! After everything we've been through!"

"You think you can just walk all over me? Well, think again because I'm done being your doormat."

"You've crossed the line, and now you're going to face the consequences of your actions."

"I trusted you, and you shattered that trust into a million pieces. I'll never forgive you."

"Don't you dare try to justify your behavior. There's no excuse for what you've done."

"I'm sick and tired of your lies and deceit. It's time for me to walk away for good."

"You've pushed me too far, and now you're going to see a side of me you never wanted to witness."

"You've hurt me in ways I never thought possible. I hope you're happy with yourself."

Fear:

"The thought of losing control terrifies me. I'm afraid of the chaos that could ensue."

"I fear the consequences of my actions, of making the wrong choices. It keeps me awake at night."

"The fear of rejection stifles me. It makes me question my worth and keeps me from pursuing my dreams."

"I'm afraid of the monsters that dwell within me, the darkness that threatens to consume my soul."

"The fear of being vulnerable, of opening myself up to hurt, is overwhelming. It makes me want to retreat."

"I'm afraid of the past catching up with me, of the mistakes I've made coming back to haunt me."

"The fear of losing my loved ones keeps me up at night. I can't bear the thought of life without them."

"I'm afraid of losing myself, of not recognizing the person I've become. It fills me with terror."

"The fear of failure is like a constant weight on my shoulders. It makes me question my every move."

"I'm afraid of being forgotten, of fading into oblivion. The thought of being insignificant petrifies me."

"The fear of the supernatural, of things beyond our understanding, sends chills down my spine."

"I'm afraid of the future, of the uncertainty that lies ahead. It makes me question if I'll be able to cope."

"The fear of being judged, of not living up to others' expectations, is crippling. It stifles my true self."

"I'm afraid of losing my sanity, of the dark thoughts that haunt my mind. It's a constant battle within."

"The fear of losing control over my own life terrifies me. It feels like walking on a tightrope, one misstep away from disaster."

"I can't shake this feeling of impending doom. Something is not right."

"The darkness is closing in on me, and I feel paralyzed with fear."

"I'm terrified of what lies ahead. The unknown is haunting my every thought."

"I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I'm being watched."

"Every step I take is filled with trepidation. I'm afraid of what might be lurking in the shadows."

"My heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty. I'm consumed by a sense of dread."

"I fear that if I let my guard down, I'll be swallowed whole by the horrors that await."

"The fear of failure is suffocating me. It's paralyzing my every move."

"I'm afraid of losing everything I hold dear. The thought terrifies me to my core."

"The nightmares haunt me even when I'm awake. I can't escape the grip of fear."

"I'm afraid of being alone, of being forgotten by the world. It petrifies me."

"Every creak and whisper sends shivers down my spine. I'm on edge, afraid of what's lurking in the darkness."

"My mind is filled with irrational fears, consuming my every thought. I can't escape them."

"The fear of the unknown is paralyzing. I'm afraid of what I can't see or understand."

"I'm afraid of taking risks, of stepping outside my comfort zone. The fear holds me back."

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kckt88 · 1 month

Text

The Lost Dragon XVI - Hēnkirī hae mēre

Summary:

Aemond comes to terms with recent events.

Warning(s): Upset, Body Issues, Angst, Fluff, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Kissing, Oral Sex, P in V.

Hēnkirī hae mēre - Togather as one.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: - 4068

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Aemond stood in front of the funeral pyre, his heart heavy with grief, his soul shattered into a million pieces. His once proud posture was slumped, his shoulders weighed down by the unbearable burden of loss. He looked a mess, his silver hair dishevelled and unkempt, his eye bloodshot and hollow from sleepless nights spent mourning the woman he loved.

The flames of the pyre crackled and danced before him, casting an eerie glow upon his pale, haggard face. He hadn't slept since Vaelys died, the pain of her absence like a dagger twisting in his heart with every passing moment. He felt completely lost without her, adrift in a sea of sorrow and despair.

As he watched the flames consume Vaelys' mortal remains, Aemond felt a searing pain deep within his soul. He wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice of her untimely death, but his voice was lost in the howling wind that whipped around him, carrying his anguish into the night.

Memories of their time together flooded his mind—their laughter, their love, their shared dreams of a future filled with hope and promise. But now, all of that was gone, reduced to nothing but ashes and dust.

Every moment he had spent with Vaelys haunted him now, each memory tainted by the knowledge that his actions had led to her demise. He couldn't bear the thought of a life without her, of facing each day knowing that he was responsible for her death.

As the flames consumed her, Aemond bowed his head in shame, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He had failed her, failed to protect her, and now she was gone, lost to him forever.

In the wake of Vaelys' death, Aemond retreated into darkness, consumed by grief and guilt. He shut himself away from the world, refusing to eat, refusing to speak to anyone. The light seemed to have been extinguished from his life, leaving nothing but an endless void of emptiness and despair.

Days turned into weeks, and still Aemond remained lost in his sorrow, his heart weighed down by the burden of his guilt. He couldn't bear to be around his children, especially the newborn Rekara, a constant reminder of the life he had failed to protect.

He felt ashamed of himself, ashamed of the weakness that had allowed his grief to consume him so completely. He had always prided himself on his strength and resilience, but now he felt like nothing more than a hollow shell of the man he once was.

As he languished in his self-imposed exile, Aemond's world grew smaller and smaller, until it seemed as though there was nothing left but darkness. He knew that he should seek solace in the love of his children, in the memories of the life he had shared with Vaelys, but the pain was too raw, too overwhelming to bear.

And so, he remained trapped in his own personal hell, drowning in a sea of regret and despair.

Aemond's soul was consumed by an unrelenting anguish that he could no longer bear. With each passing moment, the weight of his grief pressed down upon him like a suffocating shroud, crushing his spirit beneath its unbearable burden.

In a desperate bid to escape the pain, Aemond sought solace in the one creature that had always been by his side—his dragon, Vhagar. With trembling hands and a heart heavy with sorrow, he made his way to where she liked to rest.

"Vhagar," he whispered hoarsely, his voice choked with emotion as he approached her massive form. "I beg you-Drakarys”.

The great dragon hesitated, sensing the agony in her rider's voice, but Aemond's desperation was palpable, his eyes wild with torment as he pleaded with her to end his suffering.

He couldn’t live without Vaelys, he couldn’t survive in a world where she didn’t exist.

"Drakarys, Kostilus" he cried out, his voice breaking with anguish as he begged for release.

Vhagar turned her head away, refusing to obey her rider’s command.

“Dohaerās. Vhagar” sobbed Aemond.

Aemond fell to his knees, the tears streaming down his face.

“Please-Vhagar-DRAKARYS”

Vhagar let out a sorrowful sound, her eyes filled with a profound sadness as she lowered her massive head, bowing to her rider's command. With a heavy heart, she unleashed a torrent of flames that consumed Aemond in an inferno of agony and despair.

Aemond's heart raced as he jolted awake, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. His mind reeled with the vivid images of his nightmare—the flames, the pain, the unbearable grief that had consumed him.

But as his eye adjusted to the dim light of the chamber, he realized that it had all been just a dream. Vaelys lay sleeping peacefully beside him, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of slumber. Relief flooded through him like a tidal wave, washing away the lingering echoes of his nightmare.

He reached out to touch her, his fingers trembling with emotion as he traced the curve of her cheek, the softness of her hair. She stirred at his touch, her eyes fluttering open as she gazed up at him with sleepy confusion.

"Aemond?" she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.

He smiled down at her, his heart overflowing with gratitude for the simple miracle of her presence. "It's nothing, my love," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Just a bad dream."

And as he held her close, Aemond vowed to cherish every moment they had together, knowing now more than ever that their love was precious and fragile, a gift to be treasured above all else. In the warmth of her embrace, he found solace from the darkness that had threatened to consume him.

Aemond sat quietly in the corner of the chamber, his gaze fixed on Vaelys as she cradled their newborn daughter in her arms. He watched with a mixture of awe and tenderness as she gently fed the baby, her movements slow and deliberate, her eyes filled with love.

Their other children, Sovia, Daevyn, and Aemon, sat on the floor nearby, playing together with laughter and chatter filling the room. Aemond couldn't help but smile at the sight of them, their innocence and joy a welcome respite from the darkness that had threatened to consume him.

But his attention never strayed far from Vaelys, who still bore the lingering effects of her near-death experience during childbirth. She was pale and frail, her strength depleted from the ordeal she had endured, but her spirit remained unbroken, her love for their children shining bright in her eyes.

Aemond felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him as he kept a watchful eye on her, his heart filled with a fierce determination to keep her safe from harm. He knew that she was still recovering, still vulnerable, and he would do whatever it took to ensure her well-being.

As the Maesters conducted a thorough examination of Vaelys, their expressions grave as they discussed her condition in hushed tones. After what felt like an eternity, they turned to her with sombre expressions, delivering their verdict.

"You are healing remarkably well, Princess” one of the Maesters began, his voice gentle but firm. "However, given the severity of your recent ordeal, we must advise against any further pregnancies. Your body has endured a great deal of strain, and it would not be safe for you to risk another childbirth."

Vaelys felt a lump form in her throat at the Maesters' words, her heart sinking at the realization that she would never bear another child. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to come to terms with the news.

Tears streamed down Vaelys' cheeks as she buried her face in Aemond's chest, her sobs echoing through the chamber. The weight of the Maesters words hung heavy on her heart, their verdict a painful reminder of her own limitations.

"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly, her voice muffled against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Aemond. I can't give you any more children."

Aemond held her close, his arms a comforting embrace as he gently stroked her hair, his heart aching at the sight of her pain. "Shh, my love," he murmured, his voice tender and reassuring.

But Vaelys shook her head, her tears continuing to flow unabated. "But I'm-your wife, I’m-," she choked out between sobs. "-I'm supposed to give you as many children as you desire”.

Aemond cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Vaelys, listen to me," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "You are so much more than just a vessel for bearing my children. You are my wife, my soulmate, and as a mother, you are nothing short of extraordinary."

“B-But-“ sniffed Vaelys.

"We already have four beautiful children," he reminded her gently. "Our family is complete as it is. We have Sovia, Daevyn, Aemon, and now little Rekara. That's more than enough for any man to ask for."

Vaelys nodded, her heart heavy with sadness but also with gratitude for the family they had built together. She knew that Aemond was right—that their children were a blessing beyond measure, and she would cherish every moment they shared together, no matter what the future held.

As Vaelys soared through the sky atop Vermithor, her heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. The wind whipped through her hair, the rush of air against her face a welcome distraction from the weight of her worries. Beneath her, Vermithor's powerful wings beat rhythmically, carrying them higher and higher into the endless expanse of blue.

Together, they soared through the clouds, their bond unbreakable, their spirits intertwined as one. Vaelys felt a sense of freedom unlike anything she had ever known, a liberation from the constraints of her own thoughts and fears. With Vermithor by her side, she was invincible, capable of facing whatever challenges lay ahead.

As they glided effortlessly through the sky, Vaelys closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by the sheer exhilaration of flight. The world fell away beneath her, replaced by the vastness of the heavens stretching out in every direction.

As Vaelys soared through the sky on Vermithor, a thrill shot through her at the familiar sound of another dragon's roar. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up to see Vhagar descending from the clouds, Aemond astride her mighty back. A smile spread across Vaelys' face as their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them.

With a graceful arc, Vhagar joined Vermithor in the sky, the two dragons flying side by side as though they were dancing among the clouds.

But they were not alone. Soon, they were joined by Helaena on Dreamfyre, and Daeron on Tessarion. The four of them flying together, was truly a sight to behold.

As they soared higher and higher, Vaelys felt a sense of unity wash over her, a feeling of camaraderie and belonging that filled her with warmth.

As the dragons descended from the sky and touched down in the courtyard of Dragonstone, the excitement in the air was palpable. Sovia came running out, her face lit up with joy as she called out to her parents.

"Mama! Daddy!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing with excitement. "You have to come see! Kara's dragon egg has hatched!"

Vaelys and Aemond exchanged a glance, their hearts pounding with anticipation as they followed Sovia back to their chambers. When they entered, they were greeted by the sight of their daughter, Rekara, fast asleep in her crib.

But it was the tiny dragon hatchling curled up next to her that stole their breath away. Its scales shimmered in the soft light of the room; its eyes closed in peaceful slumber as it nuzzled against Rekara's side.

Vaelys felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she looked upon the sight before her. It was a moment of pure magic, a testament to the bond between dragon and rider.

Aemond's hand found hers, his touch warm and reassuring as they watched their daughter and her dragon hatchling with awe.

Vaelys stood in front of the mirror in her chambers, her gaze lingering on her reflection with a mixture of apprehension and self-doubt. Her body had changed since giving birth to their fourth child, and she couldn't help but feel self-conscious of her body.

Lost in her thoughts, Vaelys jumped when she heard the door to her chambers creak open behind her. She turned to see Aemond entering the room, his expression curious as he took in the sight of her standing there.

"Vaelys, my love, is everything alright?" Aemond asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

Quickly, Vaelys moved to cover herself, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Oh, Aemond, I didn't hear you come in," she stammered, her voice tinged with unease.

Aemond's confusion deepened as he watched her, his eye searching her face for answers. "Why are you hiding, Vaelys? What's wrong?"

Unable to meet his gaze, Vaelys felt a lump form in her throat as she struggled to find the words to explain. "I-I just-I'm not as-as I used to be," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Since giving birth, my body-it's changed, and I'm afraid-I'm afraid you won't find me attractive anymore."

Aemond's eye softened with understanding as he approached her.

"Vaelys, look at me," he said, his voice tender and reassuring. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, inside and out. Your body may have changed, but that doesn't change how I feel about you. I love you, Vaelys, more than words can express."

“I-I just don’t-“ muttered Vaelys and Aemond reached out for her.

Aemond held Vaelys close, his arms wrapped protectively around her as he whispered softly in her ear. "Let me show you how much I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness.

With gentle hands, he brushed away the strands of hair that clung to her tear-streaked cheeks, his touch soft and comforting. He leaned in closer, his lips finding hers in a tender kiss filled with love and devotion.

His hands removing her silken robe, letting it slip to the floor, leaving her bare before him.

"Sīr gevie," he murmured, his gaze lingering on her with a tenderness that made her heart flutter (So beautiful).

Vaelys felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she met his gaze, her eyes shining with emotion.

With a gentle touch, Aemond brushed a stray strand of silver hair from her face, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek with reverence. "Every time I look at you, I am reminded of just how lucky I am to have you by my side,"

“Aemond” whispered Vaelys as she leaned into his touch.

“Issa ābrazȳrys, issa jorrāelagon, ñuhon” growled Aemond his cock begining to grow hard in his breeches (My wife, my love, mine).

“Issa valzȳrys, issa nēdenka gēlenka zaldrīzes” replied Vaelys (My husband, my fierce silver dragon).

“Issa dāria, let me worship at your throne” said Aemond as he took hold of Vaelys’ legs and pulled her to the edge of the bed (My Queen).

“Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelys.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her pussy before he ran the flat of his tongue up Vaelys’ soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaelys her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”.

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaelys.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaelys, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaelys. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Vaelys; her chest heaving.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Vaelys’ inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Vaelys’ body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Aemond-Issa dārys, issa zaldrīzes” whispered Vaelys as she writhed against him (My King, my dragon).

Aemond looked at Vaelys and smirked before he bent down to lick her nipples, he couldn’t contain his excitement as he went back and forth between his wife’s wonderful, enlarged breasts that nourished their daughter.

“Oh” muttered Vaelys as she flung her arms over her face in embarrassment, as pearly white liquid began to leak from her breasts, running down her body in rivulets.

“Do not feel embarrassed my love” whispered Aemond.

Aemond ran his tongue over the milk that had dripped from his wife’s rosy nipples and delighted in the sweetened taste.

“Hmmm” moaned Aemond as he continued to lick and suck his wife’s breasts.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaelys.

“Surely you would not deprive me wife. Your mother’s milk tastes delicious” muttered Aemond softly.

“I need you” exclaimed Vaelys.

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and ploughed his hard cock into Vaelys’ soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" shouted Vaelys, her eyes popping open from her post-orgasm haze.

"You feel so good" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Vaelys, her tone bordering on desperate as she thrust her hips upward towards his.

Aemond chuckled and bit down lightly on a nipple, making Vaelys moan and squirm.

He started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Vaelys.

"Patience, Issa dōna mēre. This is our first time since you birthed our daughter" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up Vaelys’ neck (My sweet one).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Vaelys.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders, and down his back. Her nimble fingers mapped his back muscles and then went down to his arse and gripped him - pressing him into her harder.

“Gods, Vaelys" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me. Make me scream, make me come”.

Aemond knew exactly what Vaelys was doing, but he couldn’t help himself.

Vaelys wanted faster, and he was going much faster now; so much for having the control in the situation. His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips.

Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging against the wall.

Aemond lifted Vaelys’ legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet pussy.

Vaelys folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaelys.

“That’s it baby-come for me. Māzigon syt aōha dārys” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock (Come for your King).

Vaelys always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Vaelys’ legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft pale flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Vaelys, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside Vaelys once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Vaelys arched her back and screamed as Aemond pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

“Fuck. Vaelys-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He took hold of Vaelys hair, twisting his fingers in the silky strands before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held Vaelys tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me” pleaded Vaelys her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Vaelys.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and propped himself up against the headboard.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelys breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he pulled Vaelys on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Vaelys as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on Vaelys’ hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelys dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelys as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelys her vision going white as she came around his cock.

Her husband threw her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

“God. Vaelys” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed, collapsing on top of his wife, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

Meanwhile his wife was laid underneath him completely blissed out. Her heart pounding in her chest.

As the tender moment between Aemond and Vaelys lingered, a soft knock echoed through the chamber, drawing their attention.

“Just a moment-“ muttered Aemond as he slowly pulled his softened cock from his wife.

“Aemond” hissed Vaelys as she bunched the sheets around her naked body.

After quickly pulling on his robe, Aemond opened the door to find Ceci standing there, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She held out a cup of moontea, her expression sheepish.

"I thought the Princess would be in need of this," Ceci said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond's gaze softened as he took the cup from her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He could tell by Ceci's demeanour that she had overheard their intimate moment, but instead of feeling embarrassed, he felt a strange sense of pride.

"Thank you, Ceci," he said, his voice gentle. "We appreciate it."

As he turned to bring the cup to Vaelys, he couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of arousal as she sat up and the sheets slipped from her body revealing her breasts.

Vaelys took the cup from Aemond with a grateful smile, although her expression soured slightly as she caught a whiff of the foul-smelling concoction. With a grimace, she took a sip, forcing herself to swallow the bitter liquid.

“Mayhaps we should request more moontea-“ muttered Aemond as he removed his robe.

“Why-OH?” gasped Vaelys as she stared at her husband’s half hard cock.

“I seem to have developed quite the appetite-” whispered Aemond as he lowered himself onto the bed and crawled towards Vaelys, his hungry gaze fixed upon her like a predator upon its prey.

“-Then allow me to thoroughly satisfy your hunger” muttered Vaelys as she ran her hands through Aemonds long silver hair and pulled him on top of her.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond smut #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd smut #hotd

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howyouloveyourdragon · 1 year

Text

Some Thread of Time

pronouns: she/her warnings: angst summary: It has been years since Aemond has seen his childhood companion, once attached to the hip and now mere strangers harbouring the same memories but no matter how long it's been, he can't seem to let go wordcount: 1,343 A/N: i'm a fan of poetry so this was loosely inspired by the poem 'Two People' written from Robert M. Drake in the collection 'Empty Bottles Full of Stories', if you also like poetry then i greatly suggest it :) it also has work by one of my current favourites r.h. Sin whose poems you might have seen on my page before divider: firefly-graphics

Professing that Aemond missed Y/n was the same as saying he missed his eye–both obvious and true. Sometimes he goes days without remembering and then one day he finds a throbbing pain buried where something is supposed to be and it feels like something is digging into him, carving out the space you or his lost eye belongs all over again. It snatches you away without as much as a caring thought. The one-eyed prince still feels the burning flame of your lingered touch always so gentle as it dips across his cheek. He might never see you again, he used to think bitterly as he curled in on himself. The day he lost more than he could bear, the day more than one part was stolen from him. Aemond knows he should let you go and so he has tried but the carefully written letters that always wind up hidden beneath a thick book in his desk never stop growing. He discovers that no matter how strong he tenses his hand against his quill, he cannot spoil the ever-flowing words that stream from him like spring rain. The inked words are never enough to reach your ears however–never sweet nor good enough. Nothing is the same since you were taken from him but he still hopes that you can sometimes hear his heart beat for you in the quiet of the night no matter how far you are. He doesn't need yours in return, he just needs you to wield his own.

His mind whirrs in the silent hall as he stands by his brother's side, hating how no one else seems as bitter as himself at the display before him. The small family that has built from far too much tradition to be considered fresh. He scowls, watching as his cousin and nephew smile at one another at the announcement of their betrothal. Aemond's jaw tightens. Not for the first time, his mind wanders to a much prettier image–a grown portrait of you with your hair loose and flowers he had picked specially for you embedded in-between the strands. The prince did not enjoy appearing weak in front of others but for you he would, he's certain, if you hadn't been sent away from him in a cruel punishment of the Gods. Once his brittle father defends his sister's wretched spawn and the hearing is dismissed, he lingers long enough to sweep his eyes across the sea of courtiers and estranged family all leave. He turns swiftly with his brother's encouragement in the gesture of a harsh slap to the back. With some shattered shard of hope left wedged in him, he had hoped you'd appear out of some mythical mist. That's what consumed his dreams some nights. Not because he had always been infatuated with you but rather because his romanticised childish vision had only managed to preserve you against all else. His father's false love had soured and his mother's gentle hand felt hard but you had stayed the sweet girl who attended to him even in his worst states. He knew that it was unlikely for you to still be his cousin's lady-in-waiting after so many years but he hoped you hadn't wed, that you hadn't been moulded to bear children yet. For now he could rest without the last shred of his childhood ruined.

Perhaps he should have fought more, he thinks as he trails the dark stony halls of the castle he is supposed to call home. A thread of silver wrapped tightly around his barely beating heart, squeezing it as he turns the doorknob and pushed through. After entering, he slams the door back closed behind him. His fingers tremble as he reaches for a quill and drops himself haphazardly onto his chair. They then snatch and splay out parchment with the entitlement that it was only waiting for his rough hands and gentle words to breathe with the life of his whispering memories. Aemond didn't like to think that she left him, it hurt too much to consider she would do that but part of him is grateful that an untainted image of her can still burn as bright as the stars strewn in her eyes. Still, he selfishly longs to feel your presence but refuses to accept the very real possibility that you have forgotten him. Aemond knows that he is no longer the young sweet prince without friends–though two of those facts still prevail–he is different to the boy you once knew and he is happy to accept that you too will no longer be the same squeamish girl who despite her own disgust with gore, wiped back the tears off his cheek as blood poured from his wounded face. Aemond thinks of you, misses you, dreams of you even if he knows the likelihood that you are thinking also of him is low because it is worth it to hold onto the remaining scrap of innocence. The innocence you both had to leave behind. He only manages to leave his desk to attend a horrific family dinner awaiting him–only then can he dismiss you briefly from his thoughts.

As the dusk turns to the streaming and golden dawn of his bedroom his mind paints a sweet artwork of his childhood, one of the rare moments he could capture effortlessly. A fluorescent drawing of pink and orange flowers weaved into your braids and his hand holding tight to your warm one. He wanted to show you the royal gardens and who were you to deny him? There, he had taught you to dance and the feel of his own heartbeat tapping your feet to the ground on bare feet as you had insisted. You wanted to feel the earth beneath your souls and who was he to deny you? He wonders sometimes if that was the day that everything changed. He does not regret it but instead secures it safely in a glass bottle cast not into the ocean but rather his mind for him to only succumb to when he cannot blame himself for your disappearance from his life.

He spars the next morn with a surprising spring to his step and he can tell that people are curious as he refrains from squaring his shoulders and tensing his taut stomach. Instead, his shoulders are loose and his face awfully tranquil. His feet carry him with soft steps rather than aggressive slaps against the harsh stone floor. Aemond still has his usual sense of purpose however as he echoes through the corridor. Finally he reaches his personal squire and thrusts a parchment into his hands. The younger boy's eyes widen in surprise and his lips part in uncertainty. "For Lady L/n. I want these to reach her as soon as your horse will take you and I want you to follow this map so that you can present her with these flowers alongside it. Do you understand? They must be fresh." Aemond's voice does not contort into domineering, instead he is focussed and gentle. His stare however remains fixed on the squire who nods furiously. Neither can remember the last time Aemond Targaryen sent anyone a letter. Once the boy is given a dismissive nod and hurries off, Aemond can be let go of a shuddering breath and so he does although it struggles to soar from his lungs. He is firm that the flowers be fresh because he cannot believe yet that the care between you both has wilted. In fact he refuses to but neither of you yet know what is to come from this letter nor the feelings that he has finally released. He hopes that you have not forgotten the foolish promises of children half-grown. He hopes you remember the sliver of thread you once used to wrap around your ring fingers with a feeble attempt at vows. He hopes you can find the inspiration to return to him, no matter how staggering the path you both shall face.

To find your way back home.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen ff #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #hotd ff #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon ff #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd #hotd imagine

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sunshinescribes · 1 year

Text

Only Love Can Hurt Like This - 4

Part 4 of Continuum (FINALE)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT

Warnings: Blowjob, Makeup Sex, Breeding Kink (if ya squint), Fluff

There is a saying your elders often whispered to the curious and naive youth in your village: Love is a despot who spares no one.

The same words had been spoken to you when you were just a child on the cusp of adolescence, with curious, lingering eyes as you beheld the boys in your village who had once been tiny and awkward, now tall and thickset, with unrecognizably deep voices.

You hadn’t understood what it meant back then, but you certainly understood it now, as the sea separated you from the one person you desired most.

You had believed that your heartache would mend and that your decision—the right decision—to put the needs of your country over your own desires would bring you relief. You hadn’t expected it to be immediate, but you had expected it—that same ease and warmth that you had felt when you confessed your love for Namor to your king.

Anguish was your only companion, and try as you might, you could not be free of it.

When you lay in bed at night, your mind would wander back to nights spent with Namor, breathless and drunk on the feel of him—his tongue, his fingers, so attuned to your pleasure in a way you had not known before him. He would whisper filth and encouragements in your ear—against your warm skin—as he brought you to the height of your ecstasy.

The memories made the ache in your chest metastasize, making your bed feel cold and empty. You could lie to yourself and say you only missed the mind-shattering sex, but it was more than that. You missed the moments after, the comfortable silence as he held you close—your inquiries about the parts of Talokan you hadn’t seen. The things he missed most when he was away—and in turn, he would ask similar questions, holding onto every word you spoke until time slipped away from you both and the morning sun peaked over the horizon.

You could not stand to reminisce, contemplating what you had lost. You had taken to sleeping on your couch—a simple remedy—but then came the dreams dripping in honey.

You, decorated in jade and sheer fabric that pooled at your feet. Your hand absentmindedly stroked your stomach as you stared at the ornately dressed god-king before you. His fingers moved expertly with a brush as he added a quick stroke of blue paint to another one of his murals. You hissed as you felt the lightning-quick twist in your stomach—a familiar feeling these past couple of months. Namor turned, quickly setting his brush aside before coming to your side. His voice was low and comforting as he placed a warm hand over your stomach.

"You should be resting," he whispered, concern swimming in those dark eyes of his as they flitted over your features, searching for a hint of any lingering discomfort. Finding none, he rested his pointed ear against your abdomen.

You smiled at him, threading your fingers through his dark tresses. He hummed appreciatively, his eyes fluttering closed as you continued.

"I am fine," you insisted, before turning your gaze to the mural Namor had been working on. "Besides, how can I rest when you finally allow me to watch you paint?"

"I have not denied you the pleasure."

"No," you sighed, "but you always work on them when I’m asleep."

Namor turned his head, his dark eyes opening to gaze up at you. They were impossibly soft, as if to him you held the moon, and how uncharacteristic it was of the man you had once known—the arrogant god-king you had despised a year ago.

"Rest, and I will continue when you wake." He placed a kiss on your clothed stomach before whispering a string of words in his native tongue that your ears could not pick up. "You need your strength, my love, as does our child."

You woke from your dream with a start, blinking away tears as you slowly took in the darkness of your home. The dream had seemed so real that you could feel the lingering warmth of Namor’s hand—the scent of salt and agave.

Your heart wept for that dream—for the future you would now never have—and you prayed to Bast as sunlight filtered through your window.

I did the right thing. Let my heart heal. Do not allow me to suffer.

If Bast had heard your plea, she failed to take pity on you.

The days came and went, and you were plagued with honeyed fantasies that left you wanting. No, your heartache had not subsided; it festered and spread into every part of you, deep to the marrow.

If Namor haunted your dreams, then you would evade sleep as best you could. Late nights and caffeine became your new norm, and how bleary you grew running on a couple hours of sleep—how juvenile and nonsensical your mistakes tended to be when you worked on reports for your king, or how heavy your eyes would feel during council meetings— You were ashamed to know that on occasion you fell asleep with your cheek resting against your palm, and after a moment of sweet silence, you would abruptly be awoken by your shifting elbow or the soft tap on your shoulder—usually T’Kawe, but sometimes your king.

Such was the occurrence today.

You whispered your apologies, but you could see the unease in M’Baku’s face as his dark eyes inspected you.

If you looked half as tired as you felt, you could only imagine what a sight you must have been.

The meeting concluded soon after with little issue. As tribe leaders lifted from their seats and filtered out of the throne room, M’Baku took to your side with deftness that surprised you.

"Are you unwell?" M’Baku questioned, his eyes sweeping over your face one more time as if to confirm his suspicions.

"No." A lie, but you were certain your king’s concern did not extend to the matters of the heart.

"You have been tired lately. Unequipped…" M’Baku lifted his fingers to thread through his peppered beard. His eyes fell to the ground as he contemplated. "Take a few days to yourself."

You opened your mouth to protest, but M’Baku held up his hand before the words could escape your lips.

"We will not debate this. I need you well, and clearly you are not."

You bit the inside of your cheek, frustration and grief eating away at you. If only your king knew that being alone with your thoughts was the last thing you needed—that the respite he wished for you would not bring the relief he expected.

Instead of returning home as M’Baku had encouraged, you made your way through the busy markets of Birnin Zana. You slipped past colorful stalls and smiled at familiar merchants that flashed their wares enticingly—necklaces made of bone and brass, golden cuffs that glinted and gleamed, intricate beaded chokers. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was a jeweler in Wakanda who worked with jade.

Shaking the thought away, you made your way towards the heavenly scent of sizzling meat and cinnamon. Braised lamb stew was a favorite of yours; the fatty meat was always so moist and tender. The rich broth was like a balm to your tortured soul, taking you back to your younger days in your village, free of worry, full of love, and strong enough to choke.

You spent your first day of rest like this, holding on to the familiarity of your homeland while also feeling as if you were wading through water, lost.

The second day wasn’t nearly as eventful as the first. You called T’Kawe through your kimoyo beads, hoping he wasn’t aware of your mandated rest. Your hope shattered when he didn’t pick up, and you didn’t even waste time trying to get in contact with Agent Ross. If T’Kawe hadn’t gotten to him first about your current situation, M’Baku certainly had.

The rest of your day was a blur. You wandered through your home with the simple task of keeping yourself as busy as you possibly could. You cleaned and rearranged your furniture until your living room became unrecognizable, and you contemplated painting your bedroom walls.

Sleep had come to you easily that night, but your dreams were still haunted by beautiful fantasies.

The third day, you sat on your couch, legs tucked close to your body, as you tried to drown out your thoughts and the world around you as you flipped through several Wakandan stations on your television. You had thought about returning to the markets, but the sudden onslaught of heavy raindrops and strong wind deterred you.

You would return to the palace tomorrow, whether M’Baku liked it or not, his good intentions be damned. If he wanted to know what ailed you, then you would tell him plainly. Your heart was broken, shattered into a million tiny pieces that you couldn’t possibly hope to put back together. Where would you even start?

You were homesick, but for a person instead of a place. There was no remedy for that.

A sudden knock ripped you from your reverie. You glanced at your door curiously before lifting from your couch. It couldn’t be M’Baku, far too busy with his duties to venture this far from the Golden City, and he wouldn’t need to. You were always a call away. T’Kawe seemed optimal, but you hadn’t heard from him since the day M’Baku declared your repose.

It could be your friends, but the weather was less than ideal for excursions, and they had lives as busy as yours—perhaps even more so.

You pulled your door open, still wondering who stood on the other side.

You froze the second your eyes caught a glimpse of brown skin and umber eyes. You blinked, stunned, as you took in the image of Namor standing before you, raindrops catching in his thick lashes, trickling down the curve of his jaw, and trailing a path down the expanse of his exposed chest.

"Why?" Your voice shook, your eyes already burning with tears as you pushed past Namor, your attention now turned towards the gray sky. "Why are you torturing me?"

The Xhosa you spoke was quick—desperate even—as you squinted skyward, glaring at dark clouds as if your rage would compel Bast to finally look upon you.

"Is this my punishment? To be haunted in dreams and while awake?"

Your only answer was the howling wind. It was so loud, you nearly missed the call of your name.

You turned, the rain long forgotten, as you glanced at Namor. His dark brows were drawn close, and you could see the concern swimming in his eyes. It took you back to that fateful day on the balcony of the royal palace, where he had opened his heart to you and asked you to share it with him.

"You aren’t here," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

You had seen your own pain reflected in his eyes the night you chose your duty over your heart. You knew he was a man of his word, and he had been painfully clear when he offered his ultimatum.

I will not return again. Not to you.

You started to walk past this illusion of Namor before you felt calloused fingers catch your wrist. His hold was light enough that you could easily pull away, and yet the warmth of his touch anchored you.

"I am no trick of your gods." His brown eyes held you unwaveringly. "I am here."

You blinked up at him dumbly. The uncertainty you felt must have shown in your expression, because Namor lifted your hand to his mouth. His plush lips brush against the tips of your fingers.

You felt a lump form in your throat as you watched him. Wet strands clung to his forehead, making him look younger, as rain continued to trickle down his handsome face and catch in his lashes and Balbo beard.

Wordlessly, you lead him back to your home, retreating from the growing tempest.

Your mind was racing with questions, and while joy bloomed in your heart at the sight of Namor, anxiety also lingered as you thought of your king.

You leaned against your couch, your fingers absentmindedly running across the velvety fabric as if trying to rid them of the lingering heat of Namor’s lips. Your eyes flitted from him to the couch as you tried to school your emotions as best you could.

"You said you wouldn’t come back."

Namor nodded. "Yes."

"And yet here you are. Why?" You meant for the question to sound more accusatory than curious, but you couldn’t help it. You needed to know what could possibly compel him to go back on his word.

"Because you linger. In Talokan. In my heart. There is no place I can go where I am free of you."

Namor stepped towards you, and although you knew keeping your distance would make it easier to turn him away, you desperately wanted him close. You wanted the warmth of his lips and powerful hands, the only remedy for your affliction. Even if it was only for a moment, it would be enough.

"Still, I would have endured it. You had made your choice."

You lifted your eyes to meet his gaze. Your breath caught as your heart hammered in your chest.

"What changed your mind?"

"Your king."

You noticed the subtle curl of his lips as your brows furrowed. Your mind raced as you struggled to figure out when. There had been no scheduled diplomatic meetings, and you knew Namor was not one to be summoned abruptly.

"He came to Talokan." You hardly believed the words as they passed your lips.

"He did. I will admit, I was angry." His mouth twisted into a frown as he recounted the events that unfolded. "You were not by my side, and I blamed him for it... but then your king spoke of you. Of how miserable you seemed, and how he felt responsible for it."

You were rendered speechless, imagining M’Baku standing before Namor for your sake. You hadn’t thought you had been so obvious—thought M’Baku had truly believed you were simply sick. You had underestimated his perceptiveness.

What more had your king said? What had both given?

"And?"

"We came to an agreement," he whispered.

Namor lifted his hand to cup your cheek, thumbing your bottom lip as his own pulled into a soft smile that nearly forced the air from your lungs.

"A stronger alliance through the union of Wakanda’s ambassador and Talokan’s king"

Your mind was reeling. Wakanda had no ambassador. There had never truly been a need for one when your homeland was safe and hidden from the outside world, seen as nothing more than a third-world country that few cast their sights on. Wakanda had no ambassador after the truth had been revealed to the world, and your homeland found that there were no allies deserving or needed.

But so much had changed since then—since Namor and his people had come from the depths of the ocean.

"If it is what you want," Namor added with a hint of hope in his voice.

"It seems an unfair trade," you contended.

Political alliances through marriage were common, but you couldn’t think of one such as this. It would surely raise a few

Namor tsked, his lips pulling into a playful frown as he tipped your face closer to his.

"Anyone who disagrees would have to reason with both me and your king."

"An impossible task," you joked.

Namor laughed. That deep, hearty laugh that made your heart sing You couldn’t help but smile—Bast, it felt so good to smile. You felt like the sun had made its home in your chest, filling you with an all-soothing warmth.

It was only undone by his soft and languid lips, as if to remember the taste of you—the way you both fit so well. Your hand trailed up his neck, digging into the dark, damp curls at the nape of his neck as you pulled Namor closer.

He may have felt inclined to take it slow, his patience a marvel at times to you, but you could hardly think of anything besides showing him how much you had missed him—desperately, to the point of madness.

You slowly sank to your knees, eyes fixed on Namor’s face, as your hands caught on the green shorts that did very little to hide the erection pressing against the fitted fabric.

His eyes seemed to get impossibly dark as he blinked down at you, and his voice was rough as he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Apologizing."

You pulled his shorts down the length of his thick legs, giving him a coy look before turning your attention to his impressive length as it bobbed before you, so painfully needy. You wondered if he had tortured himself with memories of you, begrudgingly fisting himself to lust-filled memories with the belief that he could not replace you or have you again.

Namor hissed as you glided your tongue across the head of his dick, slow, and shy, teasing. You repeated the action a few times before he cursed in his mother tongue.

"This does not feel like an apology."

If you weren’t so drunk on the thought of making him unravel before you, you might have rolled your eyes.

So much for patience.

You took his hard length into your mouth, slowly acclimating as drool dribbled down his shaft. You curled your fingers around the base of his pretty dick, tugging his flesh with enough force to make Namor groan as if in pain. You dipped your head, hollowing your cheeks as you continued to take him deeper and pull back up, a sinful rhythm of too much and not enough.

Namor hissed your name, his eyes fluttering shut and his hips rocking despite himself, chasing the heat and slick of your mouth.

"Just like that..." His eyes opened, finding yours. His lips curled into a gorgeous smile as he watched you take him. "So beautiful."

Bast, you could feel the wetness between your thighs, intoxicated by the sight of Namor before you, breaking apart in a way that only you could command. As necessary to him as the sea.

You took Namor as far as you could in your mouth, nearly gagging as you held him there. You cupped his balls, massaging them softly before you grasped them firmly.

Namor choked on your name, and you could feel his dick throbbing in your mouth, ready to release. You moaned around him, wanting his release almost as much as he did, but your desires were whisked from under you as he pulled you off his hard length.

What the hell?

His breaths were labored, and his eyes were still closed before he regained his composure and opened them.

You leaned forward, ready to take him in your mouth again, but Namor cradled your jaw, holding you in place as he tsked lowly.

"If you do that again, I am going to come in your pretty mouth."

You shot him a questioning look that must have looked borderline murderous from the way his lips twitched.

"I have somewhere else in mind." His eyes dipped to your pelvis. Your pussy throbbed, your arousal smearing your thighs as you pulled them close.

It wasn’t fair that he could elicit such reactions with little more than words and hungry glances.

Your legs trembled as you rose to your feet. You were thankful to Namor as he guided you towards your couch with quick kisses and determined fingers. Your shirt was gone by the time he settled against it; your bra was forgotten as he pulled you on top of him. Your shorts and underwear were discarded just as swiftly and nearly ripped off you as Namor’s possessive fingers traveled across your flesh.

"You said you were apologizing." His hand caressed your ass, kneading your flesh, while his other hand skimmed across your stomach. If he just lowered his fingers a little, he could feel the wetness between your thighs—feel where you needed him most. "I want to see how sorry you really are."

You had almost forgotten how cheeky he was and how deliciously wicked he could be when he wanted to make you come undone.

You let out a shaky breath as you lined his wet dick to your entrance, feeling the pulse of your neglected pussy with each passing second.

A curse fell from your lips as you lowered yourself on Namor’s hard length, feeling the familiar stretch as you continued to sink on his dick until he was buried inside of you.

"Missed you," you whined as you began to roll your hips. "So much. So so much."

You would never get tired of how full you always felt with him concealed inside of you. Loved the way your walls hugged him, keeping him where he belonged.

"Missed you so much... I thought I was going fucking crazy."

You draped your arms over his shoulder as you continued to bounce on his dick, your rhythm growing as desperate as you felt.

Namor groaned, gazing up at you with so much desire in his dark eyes.

"Tell me," he insisted.

"I dreamed about you. About us." Your mind flashed back to the dreams that had left you feeling hollow and broken—now possibilities that made your heart dance. Your god-king at your side, loving and tender in ways unknown to outsiders. You, decorated in jade and nurturing new life "About a child I was carrying."

Namor stilled, blinking up at you. You could see the awe dancing in his umber eyes and the ghost of a smile as he regarded you.

"You dreamed... of a child?"

You nodded, remembering how real the dream had felt—the scent of salt and agave, the glittering gold and jade, the warmth of his hand against your swollen stomach.

You could feel him twitch inside of you, and you nearly cried out as his thick fingers brushed against your clit.

"One day." Namor promised, playing with your sensitive "First, I will make you queen."

His other hand dug into the flesh of your ass as a quick string of Mayan spilled from his lips—promises that couldn’t be translated in your dazed mind as Namor lifted his hips, thrusting up into your wet hole with sudden urgency. You tried to meet his powerful thrust, but his pace quickened with each stroke.

"It will be like this. Every day until you are with child."

You rested your forehead against his, mouth agape, as he continued to fuck up into your slick heat. The sound of your flesh meeting, the wetness of your hungry pussy and his dick as it drowned in your juices, was enough to send you over the edge. His words only brought you closer—every filthy promise and sweet encouragement.

"You will be dripping." He hissed, rubbing your nub desperately as your walls clenched him harder—close, so devastatingly close.

"K-K’uk’ulkan…"

"Show me how you will take it. Show me, my queen."

Namor pinched your clit and you were gone, surging over the edge as your pleasure cascaded through you. Your legs shook, your breath caught, and you could have sworn you saw fucking stars as you cried out his name. Namor continued to fuck you through it, incapable of taking his eyes off you as your pretty pussy clenched around his throbbing dick, demanding his release.

He gave one final thrust, burying himself to the hilt as he came with curses spilling from his lips. You held him close as he shuddered through his release, gasping for air as if it had been ripped from his lungs.

Your fingers threaded through the dark tresses of his hair, pushing back the strands that stuck to his forehead as he came down from his high.

He sighed contentedly before leaning back to stare up at you.

"Your king will be expecting us soon."

You hummed, capturing his lips before rolling your lips lazily.

Namor cursed against your lips, and you couldn’t help the laugh that tore from your throat. Your lips tugged into a sensuous smirk as you blinked down at your god-king with mock innocence.

"I’m not done showing you how sorry I am."

A/N: WHEW, this was a long chapter but aye, it’s done! Holy shit, it feels good to finish a series (a first for me)! Thank you all for your comments and words of encouragement. They meant a lot and gave me the push I needed to complete this series! I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

TAGLIST: @artaxerxesthegreat @tb-bunnii @daddyslittlevillain

#namor x black reader #namor x reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor x fem!reader #kukulkan x reader #kukulkan x you #black!fem!reader #namor smut #namor fic #namor fanfiction #namor imagine

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violetduchess · 11 months

Text

Never Forgotten

Summary: Your light has left but will never be forgotten.

CW: spoilers for season 2, themes of death, angst, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy

Note: I'm sad so you have to be.

In the quiet confines of your home, darkness seeping through the windows like an omen, you clutch a letter in trembling hands. The letter bears grave news, news that shatters your heart and leaves you with an indescribable ache. It carries the weight of a tragedy that has torn apart your family, your soul. The letter confirms what you had feared, yet hoped against hope would never come to pass—your husband, Rengoku, the valiant Flame Hashira, has fallen in battle, a casualty in the relentless war against the demons that plague the world.

As you read the words, tears flow freely down your face, staining the paper with your anguish. Memories cascade through your mind, vivid flashes of moments shared with Rengoku—his radiant smile, his unwavering determination, the strength and compassion that emanated from him. It feels as if the world has lost a guiding light, leaving you adrift in an endless sea of grief.

You touch your abdomen, a gesture of both comfort and sorrow. Your heart aches with the realization that Rengoku will never know about the life growing within you, the precious gift that fate had bestowed upon you both. You recall the tender conversations you had imagined, the joy that would have danced in his eyes when he learned he would be a father. It was a secret you had intended to share with him upon his triumphant return from battle, but now, those dreams lie shattered like fragile glass, never to be realized.

In the depths of your sorrow, a new presence fills your home. Your young son, Kenjuro, approaches, his innocent eyes reflecting a trace of his father's spirit. Every fiber of his being reminds you of Rengoku—the same vibrant personality, the fiery determination, and the unwavering sense of justice. Kenjuro is a living testament to the man you loved and lost, a constant reminder of the love and sacrifice that shaped your life.

As you hold your son, tears continue to stream down your cheeks, mingling with the bittersweet realization that while Rengoku may never meet his son, his legacy lives on within him. In Kenjuro, you see the strength to carry on, to honor Rengoku's memory, and to protect the flame of hope that he fought so fiercely to preserve.

The days pass, marked by the weight of absence and longing, but also by the flicker of determination that burns within your heart. You pledge to raise Kenjuro in a world free from the clutches of darkness, to ensure that the sacrifices of your husband and countless others were not in vain. Though your soul is burdened by grief, your resolve remains unyielding.

As the sun sets on another melancholic day, you whisper a vow to the heavens. "I will raise him to be strong and righteous, Rengoku. Your legacy will shine through him, and together, we will keep your flame alive."

In the face of loss, love endures, and the bond between you, Rengoku, and Kenjuro remains unbreakable, transcending the boundaries of life and death. And as you embrace your son, the echoes of Rengoku's spirit resonate, guiding you forward on a path of honor and remembrance, a path paved with the immeasurable love you hold for a fallen hero and the flickering hope that still remains.

#xreader #rengoku headcanons #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro drabble

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eslypyiris · 2 months

Text

Hazbin Gods AU (Chapter 1)

Four hours.

Four hours in a rented gym that "still smells like shocks and chilhood trauma" as Vaggie said, and what did we get?

Nothing but boredom.

I could see from the corner of my eye how Dazzle fell asleep on Fazzle's back while Fazzle looked like he wanted to cry.

"Ok! Thank you, we'll call you!" Vaggie said to the last person we were auditioning.

Everthing went silence as the man left the gym.

"Charlie?" Vaggie called me.

"Yes?"

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"Yes! Why are you asking?" I said, trying to sound as happy as always.

She didn't believe my act, but didn't insist either.

Instead, she changed the topic.

"I'm taking this two on a walk, Ok?"

Vaggie whistle, calling Dazzle and Fazzle's attention.

Both of them ran towards her and looked at her as if they were asking for a treat.

Vaggie peted their heads and then put the leashes on their collars.

"Oh, sure! This two have been here for hours, poor things..."

Vaggie stopped me.

"No, you are staying here."

"What?! Why?" I asked her.

"Because you haven't slept since yesterday and I'm worried about you."

I sighed and rubed my eyes. Only then I realized how true Vaggie's words were.

"You are right... I should rest a little bit."

She kissed one of my cheeks.

"It won't take us long." Vaggie added before heading to the front door.

"Try to not get them too dirty when they play with other dogs." I joked, knowing how dirty Dazzle and Fazzle always get.

"Don't worry, I will bring them back as clean as heaven." She laughted.

When she left, I looked back at the stage.

A single light was lighting up the microphone. Insecurity was rising up my chest, making me feel like every decision I had made so far were the wrong ones.

Since I was a child, music has always been my passion. One of my fondest memories was when mom and I used to go to the roof and sang our worries to the wind.

Sometimes people looked at us as if we were weirdos, but they couldn't take our smiles from us.

Now I'm an adult, and my passion for music never disappeared. That's why I'm here now, trying to make a band.

Usually, people play safe. I could have become an hotel manager or a psychologist, but that wasn't what I wanted. I choosed to follow my dreams, to do what I love... and that wasn't safe.

I'm afraid to fail and end up homeless with all my dreams shattered.

"Like a boat lost at sea/with no sails not a breeze/ I am drifting cold waters/ no star to be seen..." I started singing.

Soon my entire voice began to fill the gym as I was completely immersed in my own song.

"You sound conflicted." A familiar voice said out of nowhere.

I couldn't belive it.

"Mom! What are you doing here? When did you arrive?" I yelled out of suprise.

"I had some business to attend and decided to pass by to say hi. Now, could you tell me what's wrong?"

I hesitated.

"It's nothing important, I'm just... "

"Scared of the future?" She spoke like she just read my mind.

Silence.

Mom walked to the stage and she stood in front of the microphone.

"I know this isn't much, but I hope that at least it makes you feel a little bit better." She said before she stared singing.

Lilith: With a fire furious, I have burned my tongue/Grief from all the promises, too many dreams unsung/All the steps I didn't take, and paths proved untrue/Is there any path through?

I was never able to figure out how Mom was able to made music start playing out of nowhere. At some point, I just stopped asking her and decided to just live with it.

Without even realizing it, I joined mom's song.

Charlie: Like a boat, lost at sea.

Lilith: Though I'm about to wreck

Charlie: with no sails, not a breeze

Lilith: you still have your life ahead of you

Charlie: I'm drifting, cold waters/No star to be seen...

Lilith: All things that lose their way can find it again/There is no inertia in the ocean...

She went silence, allowing me to do a solo.

Charlie: Maybe if I lean upon my friends/Raise the alarm, I'll call for them/Do I have the heart to trust they'll keep me safe from harm?

And with that, the music stopped and our song ended.

She gave me a warm smile before leaving the stage.

"I once was in a similar situation like yours. Although, the circumstances were different." Mom spoke after a while.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She shook her head, as if she wanted to erase some memories from her mind.

"Maybe one day I will tell you about it... But not now." That's what she answered.

Mom have always been strange, but that moment she was acting particularly strange.

Before I could ask anything, Vaggie came back from walking Dazzle and Fazzle.

Vaggie's eyes widened when she saw my mother.

"Hi, Mrs Morningstar" she greeted

"Hello, Vaggie. It's been a while." Mom greeted back.

"7 years. Good to see you are doing great." Vaggie said.

There was tension in the air.

"Yes, remind me to thank your parents for taking good care of my Charlotte" Mom told her.

There was a time where Vaggie and mom used to get along really well, in fact, Vaggie used to idolize mom. But now they can't stand eachother.

"I should go." mom spoke.

"Wait! Are we going to have dinner togheter? Like old times?" I didn't wanted her to go yet.

"I will see what I can do. I'm a busy woman after all." she joked.

Vaggie didn't liked the joke at all.

"Ok! Sure! Have a nice day!" I said goodbye trying to not sound heartbroken.

She left the gym without looking back.

After that, the day flew by and before I knew it, I was back at home with my whole body facing the couch. I could see a beautiful starry night from my window.

Dazzle and Fazzle were sleeping in my room and they didn't wanted to give me back my bed.

Vaggie went to MCDONALD'S to get us some dinner.

So, I was basically alone. Enjoying the silence and the stars.

Until someone knoked the door.

"Did you lose your Keys again, Vaggie?" I asked as I approached the door to open it.

A heavy body collided with mine and disoriented me for a moment.

After a few seconds I recognized a blonde woman that I had known all my life.

"WHAT?! MOM?!" She had a deep wound on the side of his stomach and was losing a lot of blood.

"Charlie... I'm sorry... I didn't wanted to do this to you..."

I was afraid and without any idea of what to do.

"Mom! What happened?! Who did this to you?!"

"Charlie... I don't have... a lot of time left..." She seemed to be making a great effort to speak.

It hurted me to see her so weak and helpless. I had never seen her like that before.

"Hold on, I'll call an ambulance!"

I tried to reach my phone, but It wasn't in my jacket. I panicked. This was the worst time in the world to lose a phone.

"Charlie... "

Mom putted one of his hands on my cheek.

"Mom..."

I was a crying at that point.

"I'm very proud of you... My beautiful little girl... I love you..." She said before losing all her strengths.

The hand she placed on my cheek hited the floor and her eyes gradually began to lose their spark.

"MOM!! NO NO NO NO!! MOM, WAKE UP! PLEASE, WAKE UP!" I yelled desperately as I held her body close to mine.

Then, something weird happened.

A sphere of golden light emerged from my mother's chest. It floated for a moment in the air before entering my body.

"What the...? What was that...?" I murmured confused and still unable to get out of the state of shock produced by my mother's sudden death.

Little did I know that that wasn't the only strange thing that would happen to me that night.

My life was about to change forever.

#hazbin hotel #stray gods #hazbin gods au #hazbin hotel au #hazbin lilith #hazbin vaggie #hazbin charlie #chaggie #charlie x vaggie #hazbin dazzle #hazbin fanart #hazbin fandom #hazbin fanfic

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muiitoloko · 3 months

Text

At least one time

Summary: After all, even scoundrels like Eli have fallen in love at least once.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson (Nobel Son) × Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Angst, mention of death.

Author's Notes; I've never watched “Nobel Son”, I've only seen a few scenes with Eli, so if I've strayed a little from Eli's character, please forgive me!

Alone in his dimly lit bedroom, Eli Michaelson sat in silence, the weight of his solitude pressing down on him like a leaden cloak. It had been months since his son and wife had betrayed him, fleeing with millions of dollars and leaving him to pick up the shattered pieces of his life. But tonight, that wasn't what consumed his thoughts.

No, tonight, Eli found himself drifting back into the recesses of his past, a place he seldom dared to venture. And there, amidst the tangled web of memories, he unearthed the image of a woman he hadn't thought about in years: you, his old neighbor.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, Eli's mind wandered back to simpler times, when laughter flowed freely and love danced in the air like the scent of blooming flowers. He remembered the way your smile could light up even the darkest of days, how your presence could chase away the shadows that lingered in his heart.

In those days, when Eli was just a young and struggling teacher, you were a beacon of warmth and kindness in his otherwise solitary existence. He would steal glances at you from across the street, marveling at your beauty and grace, imagining what it would be like to have you in his arms, if only for a moment.

But you were more than just a passing fantasy to Eli. Despite his attempts to keep his feelings at bay, he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of your magnetic presence. And in moments of weakness, he allowed himself to entertain the thought of indulging in a passionless affair, something quick and fleeting, devoid of any emotion or attachment.

Yet you, with your boundless passion and unwavering sincerity, shattered his carefully constructed facade with ease. It was impossible not to fall under your spell, to be swept away by the intensity of your love and the depth of your emotions. And young Eli, with his heart wide open and vulnerable, succumbed to the allure of your affection, falling deeper and deeper with each passing day.

As he idly toyed with the small engagement ring nestled in his palm, memories of you flooded his mind, threatening to drown him in a tide of longing and regret.

The ring, once a symbol of hope and promise, now served as a painful reminder of the love he had lost, the love he had foolishly let slip through his fingers. He hadn't thought about it in years, buried away in a dusty box in the attic, along with the shattered remnants of his shattered dreams.

But tonight, as he gazed upon the delicate band and the tiny diamond that sparkled in the dim light, Eli couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia tugging at his heartstrings. He remembered the young man he used to be, full of hope and ambition, eager to sweep you off your feet and whisk you away to a world of romance and adventure.

He recalled that fateful night when he had planned to take you to a fancy restaurant, his heart pounding with anticipation as he imagined the look of delight on your face. But when the snobbish receptionist had turned you away, judging you based on nothing more than your appearance, Eli had felt a rage unlike anything he had ever known.

Yet you, ever the optimist, had simply laughed it off, insisting that a food truck would be even better. And so, with a shrug and a smile, you had led him through the bustling streets, your hand clasped tightly in his as you searched for the perfect spot to indulge in your guilty pleasure.

As you guys ate your fat burgers, young Eli couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt gnawing at him for not being able to fulfill his promise of a fancy restaurant. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, finally mustering up the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry, [Your Name]," he began, his voice tinged with remorse. "I wanted tonight to be special, but it seems I've let you down."

But you, ever the beacon of light in his darkest moments, simply snorted in amusement, shaking your head. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Eli," you replied, your tone laced with affection. "It's not your fault the restaurant was being snooty. And honestly, I'd take a burger and fries over some stuffy gourmet meal any day."

Your words brought a lightness to Eli's heart, a warmth that spread through his chest like a gentle flame. He chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet night air as he reached across the table to take your hand in his.

"You're too kind, [Your Name]," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "But I want to do better for you. I want to be successful, to give you everything you deserve."

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes. "Well, in that case," you teased, a playful grin tugging at your lips, "I've always wanted to be married to a man who's won an important prize, like the Nobel Prize."

Eli's breath caught in his throat at the mention of such a prestigious accolade, his mind racing with the possibilities. Without missing a beat, he made a solemn vow, his voice ringing with determination.

"Then I'll do it," he declared, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. "I'll win the Nobel Prize, [Your Name]. Whatever it takes, whatever obstacles stand in my way, I'll achieve greatness for you."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, a sound that filled the room with warmth and affection. You leaned in closer, nudging him playfully with your elbow as you met his gaze with a twinkle in your eye.

"You know, Eli," you teased, your voice tinged with amusement, "I fully expect you to fulfill that promise, Mr. Nobel Prize."

Turning the engagement ring over in his hand, Eli's fingers trembled with a mixture of sorrow and pride. "I did it," he whispered softly into the darkness, the words barely more than a breath as they escaped his lips. "I got the Nobel Prize."

But as he spoke, a pang of regret pierced his heart like a dagger, the memories of a time long gone flooding back with a vengeance. He remembered the day he had eagerly awaited your arrival at the cinema, his heart pounding with anticipation as he clutched a bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands.

Hours seemed to drag by like an eternity as he stood there, the weight of the engagement ring in his pocket growing heavier with each passing moment. Anger simmered beneath the surface, fueled by the fear and uncertainty that gnawed at his soul.

"Why aren't you here?" he muttered under his breath, the bitterness of betrayal staining his words like acid. "Where are you, damn it?"

Hours passed and you didn't show up for the date, and young Eli got tired of waiting, throwing the flowers away in a trash can and drowning his sorrows in the nearest bar, and as he sat alone in the dimly lit bar, the weight of his loneliness crushing him like a ton of bricks, he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at his soul. He stared down at the small engagement ring in his trembling hand, the glimmer of the tiny diamond mocking him with its cruel indifference.

"Why didn't you come?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowded room. "Was I not enough for you? Did you think I wasn't worth it?"

But the answers, if there were any, remained elusive, lost in the swirling depths of his own despair. He had spent all his savings on that little sparkle, poured his heart and soul into the promise it represented, only to be left standing alone in the cold darkness of the night.

It wasn't until he returned home, the harsh light of morning streaming through the windows, that the truth finally came crashing down upon him like a tidal wave. Through tear-stained eyes, he watched in horror as the news report flashed across the screen, the words blurring together in a haze of disbelief.

Young Eli watched helplessly as the news announced your death, caused by a drunk driver. His heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces, each one a painful reminder of his failure to protect you. The guilt weighed heavy on his soul, suffocating him with its suffocating embrace.

He should have been there with you, holding your hand as you crossed the street. He should have shielded you from harm, kept you safe from the dangers of the world. But instead, he had let his own selfish desires cloud his judgment, allowing you to walk into the path of danger without a second thought.

Tears streamed down his face as he replayed the events of that tragic night in his mind, each memory a dagger to his wounded heart. He could still see your smiling face, your laughter echoing in his ears like a haunting melody.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the darkness, his voice choked with sorrow. "I'm so sorry, [Your Name]. If only I had been there, if only I had done something to stop it..."

But his words fell on deaf ears, lost in the void of his own despair. He knew that no amount of regret or remorse could bring you back to him, could undo the pain and suffering that had been inflicted upon him.

As he squeezed the engagement ring in his hand, the metal digging into his flesh like a reminder of his failure, Eli made a solemn vow. He would never forget you, the woman who had captured his heart and changed his life forever.

And though he may never find the courage to love again, though he may forever be haunted by the ghosts of his past, he would carry your memory with him always, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to consume him.

With a heavy heart, Eli set the engagement ring aside, its sparkle dulled by the weight of his grief. And as he closed his eyes and allowed the tears to fall, he whispered a silent prayer to the heavens above.

"Rest in peace, my love," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "May you find solace in the arms of angels, and may your memory live on in my heart for all eternity."

After all, even scoundrels like him have fallen in love at least once.

#eli michaelson #nobel prize #nobel son #alan rickman x reader #Eli Michaelson x reader

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azems-familiar · 1 month

Note

🌀 - anything you want to write

I chose the prompt "underneath" for this one! Have some unpolished phone fic written on the plane.

Beneath the waters of the Tempest, off the coast of Kholusia, there is a city.

The city was not always there; for millennia it was nothing more than brine-soaked ruins steadfastly refusing to decay, a salt-stained memory of the perfect world ripped away from those too feeble to even comprehend what they had lost. Even when Emet-Selch first came to the First to oversee its Rejoining, he had left the ruins alone, too pained by the haunted blue-lit emptiness of them and the horrors the shattered buildings evoked to spend much time on their broad streets. He can already see the burning skies and endless beasts when he closes his eyes to sleep - he hadn't needed another reminder in his unfortunate waking hours.

But.

A hundred years passes as slowly for him as for any mortal, when he is denied the respite of dreaming, and Elidibus had been very clear that they could afford no more mistakes such as the one that felled Lahabrea. Forbidden from sleep, bound to the First by necessity lest an unexpected threat rise and undo even a fraction of what his order has so carefully wrought (and between the Oracle of Light and the Crystal Exarch, ensconced in his tower, the odds of that happening are not as slim as he wishes they were), the aching hollowness of the loss in his chest and the emptiness of his loneliness - an agony he hates to acknowledge, but cannot escape, especially in the quiet moments where this shattered shard breathes softly around him and he can do nothing but stare at the orange crystal in his palm and yearn - eventually drive him to seek a comfort greater than the distraction his enemy brings him.

And thus he retreats to the depths, where the biting pain of the eternal Light recedes to a more manageable irritation, like pinpricks across his skin instead of a searing burn without relief.

Recreating the city is a complicated endeavor, and one he spends nearly an entire week focused exclusively on - he starts from the Capitol and works his way out, weaving spell after spell through the fabric of reality until crumbling edifices twist themselves into the glittering buildings he remembers from his home, towering spirals adorned with crystal, the residential and academic and government districts and beyond spinning into being under the unbending pressure of his will, as heavy and immutable as the seas above. Another spell holds the waters back, allowing him to easily drag his mortal body down these reconstructed streets paved in white and blue. He brings the flora he remembers from his happiest days to life next, trees with soft lavender leaves and thick grasses and blossoming wildflowers, scattering them across the parks and planters and gardens, and he tries very hard not to let his mind wander to memories of Hythlodaeus braiding wide-petaled golden blossoms into Seleukos's hair as he watches those same flowers sprout up to carpet a field at his feet.

Amaurot is as beautiful as it was at its height, when he has finished, spreading for malms and malms into the depths, a jewel more stunning than any star or stone could ever be - beautiful, and empty. Emet-Selch paces from the Capitol to the resurrected memory of the downtown apartment he and his family had lived in and listens to his simulated breeze rustle the leaves of his carefully-constructed trees, little different in appearance to the sprawling forests of Lakeland above, and the loneliness cuts through his ribs like a knife, sharper than shattered glass.

Thirteen thousand years of duty and the lives of every single one of his people are a leaden weight on his shoulders, crushing him as easily as a fallen leaf in his palm, and the silence of his city is nothing but another burden to bear in the face of his memories.

He is tired.

The realization that he could create arcane entities in the form of those he has lost - bringing to life his memories in truth - is a slow and not entirely comfortable one. Such an act would be the height of disrespect - to populate a city with those that have returned to the star or given themselves in sacrifice, to assuage his own loneliness with soulless constructs of people - but for all that he knows he would have rejected it out of hand several millennia ago, now he cannot banish the thought so easily. It takes root in the back of his mind like a particularly persistent weed, and every time he retreats from the wasted world above, it gnaws at him, the temptation digging into his resolve with barbed thorns.

Doesn't he want to see his people again, even if only in faded facsimile?

He is Emet-Selch, keeper of the Underworld and the dead. It would be a simple matter, really, in truth, and surely if the truth of his actions ever reach the Convocation, or his people once Amaurot has been restored in truth, they will understand. He just- he needs a reminder of what all this endless toil and sorrow is for, a reminder of why he cannot simply lie down and sleep regardless of what Elidibus has said. A reminder of the tangible side to the duty he bears, the conviction he must not let waver. He cannot, will not falter now, no matter the weariness that claws at his bones.

And thus- he will make these no-longer-ruins a monument to the past only he can recall, a snapshot of a star whole and at peace and untouched by grief and calamity. He will bring his memories to life, here in this place he would give anything to save, and by Zodiark’s grace, he will find the strength to continue on, step after exhausting, inevitable step.

(Beneath the waters of the Tempest, off the coast of Kholusia, there is a city.

It is not alive, merely a ghost of eons past with a faded heartbeat that is naught but a mimicry of a half-torn memory bleeding longing and nostalgia. But if one squints just right and does not look for souls, one can pretend the bustle through its streets is true, that the melancholic glow of Light through deep waves is twilight.

And for Emet-Selch, that is enough.)

#ffxiv #my writing #emet selch #shadowbringers #asked and answered #i have no idea how long this is. maybe 800 words? honestly I'm impressed #short fic is NOT my Forte lol but this was fun to work on

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cnnmairoll · 9 months

Text

An Enchanted Masquerade Tale

Pairing : Sampo x Reader Genre : Fluff, Fairytale AU Summary : In the midst of an enchanted masquerade, a chance encounter between a noble soul and an eloquent mercenary sets off a captivating journey of unmasked identities and burgeoning love. Disclaimer : reader has hair, long enough for sampo to tuck a strand behind their ear a/n : My entry piece for @masked-fools Fairytale au!! Please check out the other writers there, they're very talented ♡

In the heart of the enchanting kingdom of Eldoria, where tales of magic and romance intertwine, a grand masquerade ball was underway. The night was aglow with the soft radiance of a thousand candles, casting dancing shadows on the walls of the opulent palace. Nobles, aristocrats, and dignitaries from far and wide had gathered, all elegantly adorned in their finest attire and elaborate masks that concealed their true identities.

Amidst the swirling sea of silk gowns and velvet suits, you, a member of a prestigious noble family, stood masked in an attire that befitted your regal lineage. But as the night progressed, the initial excitement began to wane, replaced by a lingering sense of monotony. The ballroom was alive with laughter and music, yet you found yourself yearning for something more.

It was then that destiny intervened, leading you to collide with a captivating stranger. Your mask brushed against theirs, and the two of you locked eyes. A mischievous glint sparkled within their emerald orbs, igniting an immediate connection. With a flourish, the stranger introduced themselves with a fabricated name that held an air of secrecy.

You engaged in a dance of words, the kind that transcended mere pleasantries. Your conversations flowed effortlessly, like a river of shared thoughts and dreams. Time seemed to stand still as the two of you exchanged stories, anecdotes, and witty remarks. The masquerade around you became a distant hum, as if the world outside your bubble of conversation ceased to exist.

As the night grew darker, the chatter in the ballroom intensified, threatening to shatter the intimate cocoon you had woven around yourselves. Recognizing the need for solitude, the gentleman suggested a stroll in the palace garden, where the fragrant blooms and moonlit paths could offer a refuge from the prying eyes and intrusive voices.

Outside, the garden was a paradise of flora and twinkling lights, casting a magical spell upon the night. The breeze whispered secrets as you walked together, the moon bathing you in its silvery glow. The connection between you deepened, each revelation drawing you closer to this masked enigma.

But just as the bond between you seemed to solidify, the delicate thread of your encounter snapped. Panic rippled through the crowd as alarms sounded—the masked stranger was exposed as a "Thief." Gasps echoed, and the night took an unexpected turn as guards rushed to apprehend the man you had grown so fond of in mere hours.

Before he vanished into the shadows, the thief's true name was revealed: Sampo Koski. With a heartfelt apology for the abrupt departure, he made a promise—unfinished and suspended in midair—that he would see you again.

Since then, he had been occupying your mind, the memory of that enchanting night at the masquerade ball etched into your thoughts. You often found yourself lost in daydreams, imagining what it would be like to see the masked thief, Sampo Koski, again. The thrill of his presence, the intriguing conversations you shared – it all felt like a dream you were desperate to relive.

In one fateful night, you were just reading a book in the dimly lit chamber of your family's grand estate, your thoughts wandering to the enigmatic stranger who had left such an indelible mark on your heart. The moon cast a soft glow through the window, illuminating the pages before you.

Interrupting your solitude, a light but distinct knock resonated against the glass pane. Startled, you looked up, your heart racing. Could it be him? Your mind raced with both excitement and trepidation. With cautious curiosity, you approached the window and slowly drew aside the heavy curtains.

There, standing on the window ledge, was a figure in a familiar black ensemble, adorned with a mask that concealed their features. Your breath caught as you recognized the emerald eyes that glinted mischievously from behind the mask – it was him, Sampo Koski, the charming "Thief" from that magical night.

With a mix of excitement and trepidation, you quickly unlatched the window, allowing him to step inside. The moonlight danced across his emerald eyes as he removed his mask, revealing his charming smile. "Surprised to see me?" he quipped, his voice a blend of mischief and warmth.

His eyes met yours, a mixture of playfulness and gratitude shining in his gaze. "Thank you for not betraying me that night," he said, his voice a velvet whisper.

You offered a faint smile, unable to deny the spark of attraction that flickered between you. "I could hardly bring myself to expose someone who had shared such an enchanting conversation with me."

As the two of you stood there, masked and shrouded in the moon's embrace, the air was thick with unspoken emotions. It was as though the world outside had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you suspended in this stolen moment.

Thick with unspoken emotions, it was as though the world outside had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you suspended in this stolen moment. Time seemed to stand still, the only sounds the hushed whispers of your breaths and the faint rustling of fabric. The intensity of the connection you shared was palpable, an invisible thread binding your souls together.

Sampo's emerald eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering and filled with a mixture of longing and vulnerability. His fingers brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. With each heartbeat, the distance between you seemed to diminish, until it was almost imperceptible.

Sampo's lips curved into a gentle smile, his fingers entwined with yours. "You know, there's an old tale I once heard," he began, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to wrap around your heart. "It's about two souls who find each other in the most unexpected of places, bound by a fate that refuses to be denied."

You listened intently, captivated by his words, your breath hitching with every pause. "And what happens to these souls?" you whispered, your voice barely audible in the intimate space between you.

Sampo's gaze never wavered, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "They must make a choice – to embrace the connection that defies reason and convention, or to let fear dictate their path."

The weight of his words settled in the air, the gravity of the decision hanging over you both. You felt the rapid beat of your heart, a steady rhythm that seemed to synchronize with his own. With a newfound determination, you took a step closer, your bodies now nearly touching.

"Perhaps," you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies that danced within you, "it's time for us to make that choice."

Sampo's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of surprise and delight. "You're right," he agreed, his fingers grazing your cheek as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "It's time to let our hearts guide us."

In that moment, the world around you faded into insignificance, and it was just the two of you, standing on the precipice of something extraordinary. Sampo's gaze dropped to your lips, his breath mingling with yours as he leaned in, his touch a feather-light caress against your skin.

Sampo's forehead rested against yours, his gaze filled with a newfound intensity. "I may be a thief of treasures, but you, my dear, have stolen something far more valuable – my heart."

A soft laugh escaped your lips, a melody of pure joy that danced between you. "And you, Sampo Koski, have captured my heart in a way that no mask could ever conceal."

His fingers tightened around yours, his touch a reassuring anchor in the midst of the swirling emotions. "I've always known that life is a delicate balance of risks and rewards," he mused, his voice a low murmur that resonated deep within you. "But meeting you has shifted that balance, made me see that the greatest risks are often the most rewarding."

You nodded, your heart swelling with an inexplicable warmth. "I used to think that my world was confined to the walls of this estate, to the expectations that come with my name. But you've shown me that there's a world beyond, full of mystery and adventure."

Sampo's thumb brushed against the back of your hand, his touch a soothing caress. "Then let us explore that world together.”

As the night wore on, the two of you continued to talk, your conversations ranging from dreams and aspirations to shared stories of past adventures. It was as though time had become an afterthought, and the connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. The barriers that once separated your worlds had crumbled, leaving behind an unbreakable bond that defied convention.

Eventually, as the first rays of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, you realized that the night was coming to an end. Sampo's eyes met yours, a mixture of reluctance and determination in his gaze. "I wish I could stay longer, but the morning light is not my ally."

You nodded in understanding, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. "I know, Sampo. But this is just the beginning, isn't it? We have a world to explore, adventures to embark upon."

His fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch tender. "Indeed, my dear. And every step of that journey will be more vibrant and alive because you're by my side."

With a final, lingering touch, Sampo turned toward the window, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of dawn. As he prepared to slip away, he cast one last look in your direction, his eyes holding a promise of a future yet to be written.

"I'll find you," he whispered, his voice carrying a certainty that sent a thrill through your heart. And with that, he vanished into the early morning mist, leaving behind a sense of longing and anticipation.

As you watched him disappear, you knew that the story of Sampo Koski and the mysterious masquerade had only just begun. The pages of your own adventure were waiting to be filled, with moments of laughter, challenges to overcome, and a love that had the power to transcend even the most formidable of obstacles.

With a heart full of hope, you closed the window and turned back to the room, the memories of that enchanted night etched into your soul. The world beyond your estate's walls beckoned, and you were ready to step into it – unmasked, unafraid, and in love.

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #hsr #honkai star rail #sampo #sampo koski #sampo koski x reader #sampo x reader #hsr sampo #honkai star rail sampo #sampo honkai #hsr fluff #masquerade ball #au

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sturniolocoded · 3 months

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Mr. Perfectly Fine - 🧡 Chris Sturniolo

Y/n sat alone in her dimly lit apartment, surrounded by the remnants of a relationship that once promised forever. She stared at her phone, the lyrics of Chris Sturniolo's song echoing in her mind, each word a painful reminder of what she had lost.

Mr. "Perfect face," she thought bitterly, her heart heavy with regret. She had believed in him, in them, with every fiber of her being. He was supposed to be her forever, her rock in a world of uncertainty. But Mr. "Change of heart" had shattered her dreams with a callousness that still haunted her.

She traced the familiar features of his face in her memory - the brown hair, the piercing blue eyes that had once held so much warmth and promise. But now, they were just another source of pain, a reminder of what could have been.

Y/n picked up her guitar, her fingers moving almost instinctively over the strings as she poured her heart out in song. Each chord resonated with the raw emotion she had been holding back since their breakup, the melody a cathartic release for her pent-up feelings.

"Hello Mr. 'Perfectly fine'," she sang softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "How's your heart after breaking mine?"

As the music swelled around her, Y/n allowed herself to feel the full weight of her grief. She had been Miss "Misery" since his goodbye, lost in a sea of heartache and regret. But she refused to let him see her crumble, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had broken her.

"So dignified in your well-pressed suit," she continued, her voice rising with newfound strength. "So strategized, all the eyes on you."

Y/n sang with a fierceness that surprised even herself, her voice ringing out clear and strong against the silence of her empty apartment. She was no longer Miss "Here to stay," no longer bound by the chains of a love that had turned to ashes in her hands.

As the final chords faded into the air, Y/n felt a sense of closure wash over her. She may have been Miss "Misery" for the last time, but she was also Miss "Gonna be alright someday." And someday, she knew, she would find someone who deserved her love, someone who would never go away.

With a bittersweet smile, Y/n set her guitar aside and wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. She may have lost Mr. "Perfectly fine," but she had found herself in the process. And that, she realized, was worth more than any fleeting love could ever be.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Y/n threw herself into her music, pouring her heart and soul into every lyric, every melody. She found solace in the rhythm of her guitar, the warmth of the spotlight on stage.

But no matter how far she traveled, no matter how many stages she graced with her presence, she couldn't shake the memory of him. His face haunted her dreams, his voice echoed in the silence of her lonely nights.

Then, one day, as she sat alone in her dressing room, a knock sounded at the door. Y/n frowned, wondering who could possibly be seeking her out in the midst of her busy schedule. She rose from her seat and crossed the room, her heart pounding in anticipation.

When she opened the door, she found herself face to face with none other than Chris Sturniolo himself. She blinked in surprise, her mind struggling to process the sight before her.

"Hi," he said, his voice hesitant. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Y/n shook her head, her voice catching in her throat. "No, not at all. What…what can I do for you?"

Chris shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering to the ground. "I heard your song," he said quietly. "The one you wrote after…after everything."

Y/n felt her heart skip a beat, her breath catching in her chest. She had never expected Chris to seek her out, to acknowledge the pain she had poured into her music.

"I just wanted to say," Chris continued, his voice growing stronger with each word, "that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I put you through, for the way I hurt you."

Y/n stared at him in disbelief, her mind reeling with the weight of his words. She had spent so long trying to move on, to forget the pain he had caused her. And now, here he was, standing before her with his heart on his sleeve.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness," Chris said, his voice trembling with emotion. "But I wanted you to know that I've changed. I'm not the same person I was back then."

Y/n searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity shining through the pain and regret. And in that moment, she knew that she had a choice to make. She could hold onto her anger, her resentment, and let it consume her from the inside out. Or she could take a leap of faith, and open her heart to the possibility of forgiveness.

With a shaky breath, Y/n stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Chris, holding him close as tears pricked at her eyes. "I forgive you," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

And as they stood there, locked in each other's embrace, Y/n felt the weight of the past lift from her shoulders. She may have been Miss "Misery" for a time, but she was also Miss "Gonna be alright someday."

#chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #the sturniolo triplets #the sturniolos #sturniolo x reader

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lxvepotiion · 3 months

Text

٠ ─ fading memory ❟

pairing : loki laufeyson x reader

word count : 500 something

summary : loki can't seem to remember. and he can't seem to forget.

warnings : angsty. reader death (not mentioned, vague notions towards it.) -i think that's it, let me know if i missed anything-

a/n : gif not mine. found on google. first small fic ive ever published. constructive criticism is helpful. reblogs and likes are vastly appreciated.

The bitter winds of Asgard howled through the empty halls of the palace, carrying with them the whispers of forgotten memories. Loki stood alone in his chambers, the weight of loneliness heavy upon his shoulders. He traced the intricate carvings of Yggdrasil etched into the stone walls, his mind drifting to memories of a time long past.

"It's hard to remember your face," Loki whispered into the empty room, his voice barely a breath against the silence. "The curvature of your bones, every line…it's like a haze, a haze of something I loved so dearly."

He closed his eyes, trying to summon the image of your face, but it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. Once vivid memories now blurred and faded, leaving only a faint impression of your presence.

"How can I be losing the memory of you," Loki's voice cracked with emotion, "but still feel the love so intensely?"

He sank to his knees, his heart heavy with the weight of grief and longing. The only person he ever wanted was fading into dust before his very eyes, slipping away into the abyss of forgotten dreams.

The fear emerged from the shadows, clawing at his heart with icy fingers. The fear of not only losing sight of you but never feeling that love again. The thought of never again hearing your laughter, feeling your touch, or seeing the light in your eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

Loki clenched his fists, his chest tightening with despair. He had faced battles, conquered kingdoms, and defied fate itself, but nothing could prepare him for the agony of losing you. You, who had once been his anchor in a world of chaos, his solace in the midst of turmoil.

"I would give anything to hold you one last time," Loki whispered, his voice barely audible over the echoing emptiness of the room.

But you were gone, lost to him in a sea of fading memories and shattered dreams. He had searched every corner of the realms, but you remained elusive, a ghost haunting the halls of his mind.

Loki rose to his feet, his gaze falling upon the reflection of his own weary face in the mirror. The once proud prince of Asgard now stood broken and hollow, his heart aching for a love he could no longer grasp.

He reached out, tracing the lines of his reflection with trembling fingers, as if trying to hold onto the fleeting fragments of his own identity. But even his own reflection seemed to waver and fade, mirroring the dissolution of his once vibrant spirit.

The echoes of your laughter filled the room, a cruel reminder of what he had lost. Loki closed his eyes, willing the memories to fade, to release him from the grip of their torment.

But try as he might, he could not escape the haunting specter of your absence. You were everywhere and nowhere, a presence that lingered in the shadows, taunting him with the promise of what could have been.

Loki's chest tightened with a suffocating despair as he realized that he was losing not only you but also himself. Without you, he was adrift in a sea of darkness, consumed by the emptiness that gnawed at his soul.

#loki laufeyson angst #mcu #marvel #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader

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levmada · 9 months

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How do you think Levi would handle his PTSD/symptoms during post!war Marley days? Like he definitely takes up doing his tea shop and I bet gardening or painting maybe but moreso about small stuff like seeing something mundane and it just triggers him. Having tinnitus or really bad knee/hand pain, how does he cope in small ways? I could see him even take up hammocking and reading just listening to birds and chilling in nature.

Also, do you think that he ever misses using ODM gear? The easy gilding through trees and buildings, being able to almost like fly? There's this certain point where when you master a skill with such fluidity that it becomes a second nature. Do you think that he misses that zen feeling?

sheeppp i’m so so so sorry this took me literal months to reply to😭i hope it was worth it! i had so much to say,,,

so: post-war levi headcanons

//su1cidality (idk if it’s allowed to use The Whole Word or not), detailed ptsd descriptions, internalized ableism |

wc: ~2k

just like how keeping his promise only finally gave room for Levi to feel the grief surrounding Erwin’s death, the end of the Titans would be the same, but much worse. yes, the dream all the Scouts fought for—a world without walls and without Titans—was realized… but absolutely no one who Levi knew before discovering the basement was alive to see it with him. he's the only one left to remember all of it, especially the trauma, and that's the loneliest feeling in the world.

• despite ultimate victory, at an individual level, he'd feel... really lost, and broken of course. he can no longer walk, let alone fight for anything, but he doesn't have anything left to fight for anyway!! (Levi definitely considers his duty completed, not having a part in what the former 104th is doing.)

so the first year would be very very very hard on him. assumably he was inpatient in a hospital for sometime for his injuries and mandatory physical therapy, and after that he realistically can’t live on his own (hence Gabi and Falco).

but,, Levi would have a hard time accepting being taken care of just on principle. the loneliness would be crippling. with every bit of self worth he ever had being built on how useful he is, ironically i think the end of the war would put him at rock bottom for a time.

• this is not at all to mention his mental scarring in general. his convictions about his duty had been only as strong as his ability to suppress his weaknesses. the foundations of his life had been built on is always moving forward with no regrets, and that's just a breeding ground for suppressed grief and guilt. just because Levi lived by it didn't make it healthy for him in the long run, and now all the sudden he HAS no duty, and nothing to move forward past.

so now, what, three or four decades worth of issues?—have an opportunity to take root.

there are nightmares of course, the usual insomnia, and heaps of post-traumatic stress; coming to terms with how worthless he thought and thinks of himself, especially now; the frustration and hatred directed towards his new disabilities; but above all, his suppressed emotions.

he over-regulated his emotions for sooo long that it's become instinctive to mask around anyone so no one would have the slightest idea that he's struggling at all. in order to maintain his strength, doing his duty, his fighting ability, everything—that's what he did, and not only is he so damn good at it that he's deluded even himself into believing he’s infallible, but it's instinctive and automatic for him. and healing from a coping mechanism like that completely, surrounded by a sea of severe psychopathology, is nearly impossible.

he must have compartmentalized or blocked out many many events and traumatic memories, and of course, the more often you do that, the heavier the feelings, the more traumatic the memories, the bigger the breakdown later. at some point he has a breakdown and shatters to pieces worse than he has in his whole fucking life.

• he struggles to adjust to change (because as we know Levi never even wore the new uniforms in s4, implying that. along with an interview i vaguely remember confirming that), and desperately needs a routine.

• but despite his loneliness, or maybe because of it, he struggles with relationships. in his mind it's not like he became any more pleasant to be around than he was before, so he doesn’t feel like anyone could deal with or wants his company anyway, besides on obligation. so he would self-sabotage his relationships with Gabi, Falco, Onyakopon or whoever even at the cost of his physical health. Levi neverrrr gave a damn about his own well-being and that gets worse when he’s of no more “use” to anyone, with his existence now a “burden” to his friends. he's useful, or he's nothing.

AGAIN IN LIKE THE FIRST YEAR…

• do i think this at one point snowballed into suicidal ideation of sorts? of sorts. the guilt of not being completely happy, now that it's all over, is prevalent, on top of his worthlessness, on top of tinnitus+his affected vision+using his hands+his worse mobility+chronic pain,,, ironically for a time after the war, his hardest battle is surviving.

• he loathes psychotherapy at its very premise. delving into his feelings with someone who's basically a stranger paid to listen and analyze him?? one of his worst nightmares.

so that's out of the question. but physical therapy is doable for him. such as seeing it as an exercise routine, him disliking his wheelchair, and being given tangible goals to work towards—is good for him. and besides, with the technology and culture of Marley resembling 20th century western Europe/USA, i imagine there's very few resources and little empathy, and more discrimination for people with disabilities. it can't be helped, so he might as well work on physical therapy, and along the way grow a decent self-esteem around that, and his facial scars.

• he finds ways to cope somehow. Levi isn’t an artistic person and i don’t think that changes with retirement. but he enjoys reading fiction and the newspaper, as a distraction and to keep up with what’s going on in the world.

he would absolutely enjoy gardening. cultivating life instead of ending them, being self-sustaining food wise, just the reward of taking care of something living and watching it flourish. gardening is one of his favorite pastimes.

and, eventually, journaling. like i said, Levi would have trouble just accepting that his suffering is valid, let alone coping with it. there is no full recovery, there is no being completely okay for someone who's gone through all he has i think, which is incomprehensible to someone like Levi, who prioritized his strength over every other one of his attributes.

but eventually he gets it into his head (Onyankopon's advice?) that although his closest loved ones and friends are gone, he can’t let who they were be forgotten. yes people like Erwin and Hange would be icons in history, but it’s not enough. Levi is the only person who knows who they really were, and of course those people are very very very dear to him.

so he starts jotting down memories or anecdotes he almost forgot. it would sort of read as a police report or a debrief at first honestly, just a recounting of events with no emotion because it’s hard. memories of them, all of them, are priceless to him, so fond or not, it’s a challenge.

but it becomes therapeutic, and even a crutch. sometimes he writes so fast that he’s not even thinking of the words to put and just writing his stream of consciousness, or loses track of time. at times like that he can find some catharsis.

he enjoys sitting at a park bench (and knowing the importance of routine to Levi, the same one every time) and feeding the birds, and like you said, chilling in nature.

he decides he owes it to his past comrades to see the fruits of their labor they didn’t get to.

• Levi has fond memories of the past, before the basement and their whole world got bigger and more dire. there's something he appreciates about that time, and how simple their goals and enemies were, even though their lives were never carefree or happy. i think Levi would prefer that time of his life the most, being under the sun and sky and with a cause to live and fight for. his reason to live fixated on his duty, and so being a soldier became his reason for being.

and then there’s his pure love of flying on the ODM gear. he was doing it since before he ever even joined the survey corps. probably his first ever real belonging besides a knife, and his first and most longstanding sense of freedom he ever had. Levi never was carefree, but flying was as close as he got. yes. flying is one of the things he misses the most about the past.

• but like i said, and even though it's sad, i think that for someone like Levi and all he's been through, there is no complete peace. that's not realistic.

• his ptsd is severe. at times when the littlest thing could set him off—being irritated or angry—and he has no concrete reason for why. he doesn’t even know who or what he’s angry at. it’s tempting to resent the people around him for not understanding it, and how they’ll never understand what he went through that made him “broken”. being angry that he has to relive some memories through nightmares or flashbacks at seemingly mundane things.

he hates planes (sorry Onyankopon). he hates shower steam or cooking on a stove. sometimes his missing fingers reminds him of Erwin and all the worry that arose when he lost his arm. fireworks or the sounds of explosions in general make him feel dizzy and out of it for a while. he probably sees dead friends and enemies alike in crowds of people. he doesn’t stare into the fireplace because he’ll smell burning flesh. needles whenever he visits the doctor makes him feel panicky.

he has triggers. and when he’s triggered he self-isolates a lot and becomes emotionless. you know, sometimes his sole motivation for getting out of bed is taking care of his garden/his plants, and eating is only worth the strength needed to do that, or to eat so the food he grew himself doesn’t go to waste. besides, he reminds himself that staying in bed is pointless, because getting sleep is never easy.

• and arguably the worst part is, that Levi is so accustomed to suffering it’s unthinkable the type of person he’d be or life he could lead without it. it’s comfortable because it’s familiar, which leads to him almost fetishizing his own sadness out of a sense that he deserves it as punishment, and this carnal need to prove that he’s useless, and should be left alone.

• but of course, he’s too loved for that to happen. he comes to believe his friends of that. and that makes him protective of Gabi and Falco especially—he’s still that same person who will do anything to make his friends’ lives easier or take a load off whenever they need it.

time passing helps, and so does journaling and seeing the kids (Gabi, Falco, honestly the whole 104th is still his kids), but there is no full recovery for someone like Levi. then again, peace is uncomfortable for him anyway, someone whose whole life was a cycle of being on his guard, training and fighting, recovering, and then fighting some more.

but he does find some peace.

• eventually, when it’s finally over for him, the most prevalent feeling i think would be relief. being surrounded by friends or at least with the knowledge that he’s loved. he has lived a life of constant trial and tribulation, most of all grief, but it’s yet another testament to Levi’s strength that despite everything, he is still able to find a way to be happy. it’s the same. you can choose to feel better. every day, you find something to live for. it can be fleeting and easily forgotten… but maybe that’s everything.

as for him, he always holds onto the small things, for the same reason he needs those small things to hold on.

#sorry for getting sappy at the end #levi hc #levi ackerman headcanons #aot headcanons #levi fanfic #levi ackerman hcs #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfiction #aot spoilers #snk spoilers

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tosomeonessomeone · 3 months

Text

Echoes of you.

words・ 1.1K/pairings・ Felix x reader / genres・ overwhelmingly sad/ warnings・ just sadness. Based in Eloise song Drunk on a flight.

As the first light of dawn peeked over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the cityscape, Felix stood on the deserted street, his heart heavy with the weight of impending goodbye. The echoes of the song reverberated in his mind, each verse a painful reminder of the inevitable end.

"We broke up when we woke up," he whispered to himself, the words hanging in the crisp morning air like a solemn vow. It had to end, you both knew, the jagged edges of your fractured love too sharp to mend.

Felix traced the familiar contours of the sidewalk, each step a silent farewell to the memories you had woven together. The ache in his chest was palpable, a raw wound exposed to the harsh light of day.

"We couldn't speak from the pain," he admitted, the admission heavy on his tongue. Words had failed you, swallowed by the vast expanse of unspoken truths and unshed tears. And so, you stood on the precipice of goodbye, your hearts heavy with the weight of whati could have been.

With a heavy sigh, Felix hailed a taxi, the screech of tires against pavement a discordant symphony to your fractured love. He climbed into the backseat, the weight of his decision settling like a shroud around his shoulders.

"We had to jump on a plane and pretend," he mused, the bitter taste of regret lingering on his lips. The distance between you stretched further with each passing mile, the chasm widening with every beat of his broken heart.

As the taxi pulled away, Felix watched the city fade into the distance, a blur of lights and memories swallowed by the vastness of the horizon. And in that moment, amidst the chaos of goodbye, he found solace in the quiet promise of a new beginning, a faint glimmer of hope on the horizon of his fractured heart.

On the plane, Felix found himself drowning in the numbing embrace of alcohol, the bitter taste of whiskey a poor substitute for the warmth of your touch. As the liquor flowed, the boundary between reality and oblivion blurred, each sip a desperate attempt to erase the ache in his heart.

"Well, I got so drunk on that flight," he admitted to himself, the confession a whispered lament to the empty seat beside him. The cabin was cloaked in darkness, the soft hum of the engines a haunting melody to his shattered dreams.

The passage of time became irrelevant as Felix lost himself in the haze of intoxication, the boundaries between day and night merging into an indistinguishable blur. Yet, even in the midst of his inebriation, he couldn't escape the echoes of your absence, your ghost haunting every corner of his mind.

"But I didn't want to," he confessed, the words heavy with regret. Without you, he felt incomplete, a shadow of the man he once was. You had been his anchor, his guiding light in the darkness, and now, adrift in a sea of uncertainty, he struggled to find his way back to shore.

"I'm not me without you," he murmured, the truth ringing hollow in the emptiness of the cabin. In your absence, he was a mere echo of himself, a fractured reflection of the love you once shared.

And since you split the sheets, Felix found himself searching for you in the faces of strangers, a desperate longing etched into the lines of his weary soul. In every person he met, he sought traces of your laughter, your warmth, your essence intertwined with his own.

"In every man person I meet, I look for you," he confessed, the admission of a silent prayer to the empty skies above. For in the depths of his heart, he knew that you were irreplaceable, a beacon of hope in a world consumed by darkness.

And so, as the plane journeyed on into the night, Felix found himself adrift in a sea of memories and regrets, haunted by the ghost of a love now lost, yet forever etched into the fabric of his being.

In the quiet solitude of the cabin, Felix's thoughts drifted back to moments of tenderness and strife, each memory a bittersweet testament to the complexity of your love.

"You used to stroke my cheek when I spoke French to you," he reminisced, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Your shared language had been a bridge between worlds, a secret code that bound you together in intimacy.

But amidst the whispers of endearments, there lingered moments of discord, fragments of a past marred by misunderstandings and unspoken grievances.

"Then you'd pick a fight," he confessed, the memory of a sharp pang in his chest. Your love had been a battleground, marked by passionate clashes and tender reconciliations, each argument a testament to the depth of your connection.

"And what it meant to you," he whispered, the words heavy with regret. In the heat of the moment, you had both said things you couldn't take back, wounds that cut deeper than you dared to admit.

"We used to fight for the sport," Felix acknowledged, the admission tinged with resignation. Your conflicts had become a twisted dance, a cycle of push and pull, love and resentment intertwined like thorns in a rose garden.

"And then when we'd get bored, we'd just make up again," he confessed, the confession a whispered admission to the empty air. Your reconciliations had been fueled by a desperate longing for closeness, a fleeting respite from the storm brewing beneath the surface.

"With a hint of resentment," he added, the words hanging between you like a heavy shroud. Beneath the facade of forgiveness, lingered echoes of past hurts, wounds that refused to heal, scars etched into the fabric of your shared history.

As the plane journeyed on into the night, Felix found himself adrift in a sea of memories, navigating the turbulent waters of your love with a heavy heart. For in the quiet depths of his soul, he knew that your story was far from over, a symphony of love and loss, hope and regret, echoing into eternity.

Since you parted ways, Felix found himself adrift in a sea of faces, each stranger a potential reminder of the love he had lost. The lyrics of the song echoed in his mind, a haunting refrain that followed him wherever he went.

"And since we split the sheets," he acknowledged, the words heavy with longing and regret. In every person he encountered, he searched for traces of you—the curve of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes—a futile quest to fill the void you had left behind.

"I look for you," he confessed, the admission a whispered prayer to the empty spaces between them. You had been his compass, his guiding star in a world fraught with uncertainty, and now, adrift in the vast expanse of loneliness, he struggled to find his way home.

The memory a bitter reminder of the depths of his despair. In the haze of alcohol, he had sought solace from the pain, a fleeting escape from the relentless ache in his heart.

"But I didn't want to," he confessed, the truth a bitter pill to swallow. Without you, he was adrift, a ship lost at sea, tossed by the merciless currents of longing and regret.

"I'm not me without you," he whispered, the words a solemn vow to the empty air. In your absence, he was a shadow of his former self, a mere echo of the man he once was.

And so, as the days turned into nights, and the seasons shifted like sands beneath his feet, Felix continued his search—a solitary figure lost in the labyrinth of his own heart, yearning for a love that had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

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