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caffeinewitchcraft · 5 months ago

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You are a Blacksmith

Set in the universe where your destiny is written on your arm

(The Hero and Hope) (Being Villagers) (You are the Demon King)

You are a Blacksmith.

That’s why the dragon’s fire doesn’t burn you.

“Pretty sure dragon fire is hotter than a forge,” your party’s leader pants. Kent is a veteran adventurer of twenty years to your two years and he’s seen his fair share of dragon fire before today. There are curling scars dragging the corner of his mouth down into a permanent scowl that pairs oddly with how high he has his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. He exhales noisily. “I think you’re just a freak, actually.”

“Not nice,” Sella says. The archer is your age with twice your experience. Her leather armor is well-beaten by four years running around with Kent and getting far closer to battle than an archer should. Her red hair is tied with golden thread that matches the golden charms dangling from her necklace. She adds a new one with every successful monster kill. It’s lucky she’s so stealthy or else she’d be jingling with every step. “Mande is an exception, not a freak.”

You’re a party of exceptions. Most adventurers are Villagers or Guards, common destinies that don’t always find a place within a town or village that have so many of each already. There are days you report for a mission, and you’re offered a blacksmith’s job on the spot just because of the mark on your arm.

Kent is a landless Lord. There’s a story there, you know, but it’s not one he’s ever volunteered. You can see his destiny pull at him in the remote reaches of the Kingdom, where no Lord has laid roots and the monsters run roughshod across the barren soil. Nights where you’re too far from civilization find him gazing up into the stars, his fingers curled like claws into the earth. The look on his face then is so hungry that the first time you saw it, you offered him provisions from your own pack. He’d shaken his head wryly, his scarred frown twisting, and walked off into the night by himself, only returning in the morning light.

Sella is a Guardian without anyone to look after. You knew her story before she told it to you, whispering it like a bedtime story before the end of the world. She was part of a traveling theater group. She looked after them, feeding them and retrieving those with wanderlust from their journeys before curtain call. When a monster siege led by a Demon King fell upon the city they were performing in, the Lord called his people into his castle and locked the doors.

The troupe were not his people. But they were Sella’s.

Until they weren’t.

You drag your battle hammer up and over your shoulder. Conveniently, the dragon fire has burned away the wet viscera that had been clinging to it. The metal is dark with soot, but undamaged.

The things you smith can’t be melted by any fire except your own.

The skeletal trees make the scene of this final battle oddly silent. Ash drifts from the sky, carried by a wind too high to feel. You can hear your party sniping at each other behind you and the gentle gurgle of the beast’s body settling comfortably into death.

The red dragon is beautiful. Its scales gleam and sparkle like rubies in the late afternoon sun and its talons shine like obsidian. Each part of the creature could make an average family rich for a month. You consider it from an arm’s reach away. You chew your bottom lip as you think. Your adventures have taken you across the continent from the southern coast you call your home, to the western land of rivers, to the northern desert and then here, to the eastern dry lands. After all your travels, you find yourself still thinking of home often. Crab is a delicacy where you’re from despite being so close to the water. The preparation can be tedious which makes it a dish reserved from significant occasions. Cracking the shell was always your job…

“Oh,” Sella says faintly. She makes an attempt to rise and nearly tips over in the process. If it weren’t for her bow, she’d be on the ground. Her knees shake as she uses a combination of a tree and her bow to pull herself up. “Mande, rest first! In an hour I can help you—”

You bring your hammer down on the jaw of the dragon. The bone shatters after just two blows. It’s best not to think about how beautiful it looked flying overhead or the intelligence in its eyes. You’ve always had a single-minded focus and you rely on that now.

“Leave her to her dismantling,” Kent grumbles. He’s now curled up on the ground is if in his sleeping roll, hands tucked neatly under his chin. It can’t be a comfortable position given his full suit of armor no matter how peaceful his expression. “If she’s got the energy for it, who are we to argue? Just keep the ribs intact. That’s what the client wants.”

Smash!

“It’s our turn to do the dismantling,” Sella says. She glares down at Kent. “Mande already did last week’s gryphon and the hydra. Get up!”

Smash!

“I’m an old man who needs his nap time.”

“You’re an irresponsible leader who needs to do his part.”

Smash!

“Once Mande stops swinging that thing around, I will.”

“She won’t hit you—”

“She hit me last week!”

“And I apologized for that,” you say through gritted teeth. You let your hammer fall by your feet. Your last blow sent tremors through your arms. The dragon’s jaw is like glass compared to its skull. “Sincerely.”

Sella makes a gagging sound when you fall to your knees next to the cracked skull. “Mande, don’t put your hand in there, that’s – oh, that’s so gross.”

“The book I read said it’d be…aha!” Your fingers graze something cool and metallic. You abruptly feel like crying. It’s been seven months. Seven long months of endless missions and danger and being away from home. This entire dragon is priceless, but you’ve forfeited your share for this. You blink rapidly to keep your tears at bay. You aren’t going to cry. Not until you’re sure that you’ve really found it. “Quick, hand me my waterskin.”

Your urgency gets even Kent up and bustling towards the dragon’s corpse. With trembling fingers you accept the water from Stella, pulling out your prize. It’s smaller than you thought, only about the length of your arm or a third the length of the dragon’s skull.

With bated breath, you gently trickle water over the length of it. Your party kneels beside you, watching just as raptly.

“What is it?” Sella breathes.

Kent is wide-eyed as, inch by inch, your treasure reveals itself.

“A dragon’s silver wit,” you say. The silver is mottled by the dragon’s black blood and grey brain matter. “The last ingredient I need for a Hero’s Sword.”

-----.

“You can’t just make a Hero’s Sword,” Kent is still saying a week later. He throws his hands up to the sky. “Heroes make them from air and magic and righteousness. Blacksmiths just repair them!”

You didn’t ask for Sella or Kent to follow you home. In fact, you assumed they wouldn’t. The slaying of the red dragon marked the end of your time in the Adventurer’s Guild. Now you’re ready to return to your position as the southern port’s best blacksmith and you thought they’d be ready to return to the best two adventurers the Capital Guild had.

“I’ve heard legends about it,” Sella says. She’s walking backward. You’ve already warned her that the roads this far away from Capital aren’t as smooth, but she’d scoffed at your concern. Now it’s pure stubbornness to prove you wrong that has her continuing to walk backwards despite nearly tripping twice already. “Excalibur was manmade.”

“The legend of Hero Arthur is manmade,” Kent retorts.

“If you believe that,” you say, “you really don’t need to come home with me.”

Kent blinks. “Well,” he says slowly, “on the off chance it’s not a fairytale, I desperately want to see it.”

“Then shut up and follow Mande,” Sella says. She elbows him and mutters under her breath. “Or else she might not let us stay at her house.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure the dragon fetched enough coin for the both of you to get your own rooms at the inn.”

“Sure,” Kent agrees. He grins wickedly and the expression makes him look ten years younger. “But we’re not going to do that, are we Sella?”

“Nope,” Sella chirps. She loops an arm through yours before you can protest and squints at the horizon. “Is that your hometown over there?”

A hazy line of blue and white roofs is barely distinguishable in the fading light of day. Sella has better vision than you. You’re sure she can see the masts of ships in port, the green and yellow flag waving over the chief’s house, maybe even the orchard that creeps right up to the edge of the bluffs.

You can’t wait to see it yourself.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been smiling, but your face hurts by the time you find your voice. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

----------.

Mom hurls a loaf of bread at your head when you walk through the front door, Kent and Sella in tow.

Kent catches it an inch from your face. “Whoa, whoa!” He waves the bread as if unsure whether he should drop it or throw it back. “It’s your daughter! Mande! Put down the bread basket!”

“Mande and friends,” Sella says cheerfully. She waves at your Mom, Dad, and little brother. “Hello! I’m Sella.”

“I threw it because I know who it is,” your mom says. The grey streaks on either side of her temple are wider. Her round, kind face is pale with anger. “We thought you were dead.”

“We got your letters,” your dad says before you can ask. His hair hasn’t changed; he’s bald. He’s wearing his leather apron from the forge at the table. He takes a bite of soup. “All three of them.”

“Not nearly enough,” Mom snaps. Then, “And they could have been forgeries.”

“Who would forge a blacksmith’s letters home?” you ask in exasperation. Is that why she never replied? “Mom, please.”

“Don’t giveme that when you’ve been dead for seven months,” she says. She stands abruptly. “Three of you? Sit down. I don’t have enough soup, but bread will fill anyone’s stomach.”

“I’m Kent,” Kent blurts out before Sella can push him into a chair. He sits with a thud. “Sella, it’s rude to sit before introducing yourself!”

“Ruder than not knocking or coming for dinner without an invitation?” Sella hisses at him. She turns a charming smile on your little brother. “Sorry to intrude. You must be Axton. A pleasure to meet you.”

Axton doesn’t return her greetings. His eyes are fixed to the package strapped to your back. “Is that…?”

You swallow hard as your family’s eyes turn to you. You carefully pull the cloth-wrapped rod from your back. Your little brother isn’t so little anymore. You can see he’s taller than you as he stands in unison with Dad to clear a spot on the table. His long, thin hands make quick work of the ties.

There’s complete silence as the burlap falls away to reveal gleaming silver.

Axton’s throat bobs. He’s barely eighteen with the soft look of a fawn hovering around the edges of his jaw and cheekbones. Mom and Dad have done a good job feeding him while you’ve been gone. Seven months ago your brother looked like a wraith, all the light taken from him as if it all came from his hero’s sword.

“You’re going to make me a sword,” Axton says at last.

You’ve thought about this moment for seven months. You imagined you would say something like it’s okay now or maybe big sister fixed it. When his hero’s sword was taken from him, you thought about all sorts of things. It took a month for you to set out on this quest rather than one of revenge. It wouldn’t have helped Axton if you’d forged a hundred weapons of war to punish those who’d hurt him. It wouldn’t help Axton to pretend you fixed anything.

So instead you tell the truth.

“It won’t be the same,” you say. “It won’t work the way you want it to. Not right away. You’ll need to train with it and learn it as you would any other weapon. Your instincts won’t help you. But…it won’t break when I’m done. It won’t bend or chip. It won’t melt. It will serve you, Axton, until the exact moment you don’t need it anymore.”

Axton flies around the table to throw his arms around you. It’s amazing you came from the same parents. Where you are short and stocky, he’s really like a deer. His long arms could encircle you twice as he lifts you with a hero’s strength. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

And then you’re being hugged all around. Your dad’s strong, Blacksmith arms are crushing you to your brother, your mother’s soft cheek is against your shoulder, and there’s plate mail digging into your spleen while a sharp elbow digs into your spine.

You manage to turn your head just enough to see Kent hugging your from behind and Sella hugging him from behind. It’s her elbow that’s jabbing you.

“This is sweet,” she says. Her voice is a little muffled from how her face is pressed against Kent’s back. “We should hug more.”

“Does this make your brother a Hero?” Kent asks.

“This is a family hug,” you say.

“Duh,” Sella says. “That’s why we joined.”

You really can’t argue with that.

(Patreon)

Next week's story: Everyone in LA has two job. You've got a big smile and a talent for seeing ghosts. It's no surprise what your jobs are.

#my writing #second person #you are a blacksmith #found family merges with first family

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azzayofchaos · 6 months ago

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Since my other Nether worldbuilding post was received pretty well... I'm back on my bullshit!

This time featuring zoning and biomes of the Neath: Lore below cut

Nether (noun): the formidable hellscape straddling the boundery between the Fragments of the Overworld and Death's Realms.

Derived from Beneath -> Neath -> Neth -> Nether.

The Nether is most easily accessable through outer regions of the nether, regions that are comparatively closed-off, and lacking in biodiversity compared to the Deep Nether where most Neath civilizations are centered.

The Neth is divided into three primary zones, distinguished by altitude and general climates.

The Calfactory Zone: the largest and most icon of the three, the Calfactory zone is blisteringly hot and bone-dry, it's most prominent features are its abundant seas and lakes of magma, and the massive Supermagmas atriums that are common above the magma. In the largest of these atriums, the ceiling may be so high above as to be completely invisible from the ground, obscured by an ever present smog of toxic vapor and minerals formed in the self-generated micro-climates that are generated from the rising heat of the lava that begins to cool at a higher altitude.

In the Basalt Deltas and other biomes around the edges of these lakes, massive pillars of rock and crystals bulwark the more-visible ceiling.

The most common of this zone’s biomes is the Crimson woods, home to hearty thermal-philic fungi and plants that grow on the minerals and vapors of the lakes. Many are carnivorous in their lack of access to water or sunlight, and these forests contain many sub-biomes and ecosystems of flourishing life.

The Wastes are perhaps the most desolate regions of the Neath, irradiated deserts of red-rock, brimstone, and sharp sand. Even the vast majority of nether-folk avoid these deserts due to the leftover radiation that rots and destroys anything that waits too long. The only forms of life are particularly robust lichens and bacteria that are happy to sit by the pools of boiling pools of sulfur and mud and toxic sludge that dot the landscape. Growing within the rocks themselves are colonies of amorphous fungus, called geocorpus molds that get their spores into cracks in the soft netherack and slowly feed on it, a delicacy in nether cuisine.

The Temperate Zone: Cradled in the heights of the Neath’s atriums and sat bellow the roof is the temperate zones, the rising heat of the zone below begins to cool and forming distinct weather patterns in this zone and leaving it, while still sweltering, a cooler though much more humid climate.

The main biome are the luminescent warped-fungal rainforests that collect the high-rising minerals and odd moisture from the lakes. Liquid is actually precent here, though if it’s not safely filtered through the innards of the various plants and fungi, this water is usually aggressively corrosive, and it is best to shelter from the acidic precipitation to avoid chemical burns. The nether folk and ender local to these rainforests are suited to deal with these conditions and the ender especially do not have trouble with the extreme pH of the water here like they would in the overworld. The zone is lit almost exclusively by the biolumincense of the organisms there and have often been described as false-stars.

In the Deep Nether, the ceiling may give way, allowing one to pass onto the plateaus of the Nether Roof and the yawning void above. The bedrock of the nether roof is jagged and layered in huge slabs, sometimes broken up my mazes of pillar-like structures and shallow, thermal pools of crystal-clear liquid. The kind you don't want to touch of course. fogs may hang low to the ground, but when its clear, or above the fog, the entire universe seems to spill out into the sky. The nether roof was culturally significant and a source of much knowledge and inspiration in the early days, but I'll get more into that in a later post 0.0

The Rime Zone: Plunge deep enough and one might find themselves bellow the lava beds. Here, where the heat can't quite penetrate, the temperatures will drop rapidly to sub-zero.

Namely, the Rime Zone is made up of the soul valleys, flat steppes of cinder and clotted sand, you can imagine it almost with the blindness effect, a fog that pools by your feet, and a heavier darkness hanging from the sky, it feels massive and endless and claustrophobic all at once. Frost collects as crystals on the irradiated, soul-soaked barrens, and the bones of the massive nether wyrms lie fossilized, breaking up the landscape. The sands are also split with patches of crazing on the ground and vents of blue fire that spills out and sets the sand ablaze.

These same wryms can be found sometimes, ancient things that dig through sand and soft rocks and the magma lakes, far and few between and treated with both fear and reverence.

And in the deepest pits of the Neath are the glowing frozen lakes that are colloquially and rightfully called the Gates to Death, glowing blue from beneath their surfaces. Indeed, any further down and you pass into limbo, the edge of Death's Realms.

Extra Notes??:

Soul sand/soil is tread on carefully or not at all, is one form of remnants from the apocolyspe. Like the general radiated rubble present through the Nether, it's a fault of nuclear fallout. Unlike other areas of radiation, its also been infused with the souls of those who didn't survive the joining of worlds.

This infused quality is also precent in Nether Debris, resulting in a material that takes magic particularly well.

Iron cannot be found in dense veins and crystals like gold or quartz in the nether, but it's a pretty rich mineral a lot of netherack, giving it its ruddy coloring.

Sorry for this massive rant that no one asked for. If you have questions please feel free to send an ask, I may not have an answer yet but I'll certainly come up with one if I can.

I'm also hoping to do a pass on my headcanons about history and culture in the Nether and then we might start talking about character headcanons since this is also an actual AU.

If you read this far, here's some notes on striders and ghast

#minecraft #minecraft worldbuilding #Minecraft lore #speculative worldbuilding #minecraft nether #the nether #dreamingverse au #my art

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celestemona · 4 months ago

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no because imagine their reactions when genshin dads felt their baby kick for the first time, i'd be crying imagine the 'i made this' or 'omgomgomgomg' reactions

no because i had to write it. thanks anon ♡♡

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and they feel their babies kicks for the first time.

pairing: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley + heizou x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnant reader. use of endearment names; arabic, japanese, farsi & french terms. approximately 4.1k words. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Alhaitham

The first time you and your husband felt your baby moving was in the comfort of your home. The soft glow radiating from the fireplace cast swirling shadows on the walls, highlighting the warm and inviting space. You and Alhaitham were snuggled comfortably in your favorite reading nook—an old leather armchair adorned with pillows and a thick-knitted blanket. You made yourself comfortable in his lap, with your back resting against his chest, while one of your husband's muscular arms cradled you tenderly.

As reading was a crucial part in your married life, every night you and Alhaitham found yourselves sharing stories. This time, you narrated aloud an ancient legend to Alhaitham and the baby in your womb. The tale’s language, despite being dead and little known, was not foreign to him. In fact, the scribe delighted in the tales whispered in your serene and melodic voice.

“According to the desert dwellers, the world was once ruled by a king named Al-Ahmar,” you began, your tone carrying a sense of mystery, “a king of warriors, horticulturists, and sages. He controlled the winds that whistled through the desert, the dunes turned bright silver by the moonlight, and the thousand and one Jinn that hid in the night and the calls of owls.”

Although he already knew the story very well, Alhaitham listened to you attentively—the subtle glow of affection in his eyes watching you lovingly as his thumb traced circles on your waist in a comforting gesture.

As your voice continued to flow, a subtle yet distinct vibration occurred within your being, making you pause reading for a moment. Your eyes widened in surprise as the realization hit you, drawing a loud sigh from you.

“‘Haitham,” you said, voice shaking slightly with emotion, “I think… I think the baby just moved.”

Your husband's eyes widened briefly before a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He placed a hand on your belly and his baby's little feet stretching your skin were felt under his palm. It was a feeling that filled him with warmth, love, and joy.

“It's the first time?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and his warm hand still under your belly.

You nodded, your eyes shining in pure happiness. “Yes, it is.”

Alhaitham's smile widened, and he gently stroked your belly with a reverent touch. “It’s extraordinary,” he said softly. “Our little one is already making his presence known.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, and together, you savored the intimate moment. The book remained forgotten for now, overshadowed by the miraculous reality you were experiencing.

In the peaceful comfort of your home, surrounded by the warmth of love and the promise of the future, you shared a precious moment of connection that would be treasured forever.

Cyno

The soft, golden light of twilight filtered through the trees of the Avidya Forest as Cyno and you walked back home after a visit to Tighnari.

Although the forest guard was against the idea of seeing his very pregnant friend moving excessively and unnecessarily across the Sumerian plains, Tighnari knew that going against your stubbornness was a losing battle. Therefore, he ended up welcoming both you and your husband warmly into his dwelling.

When you finally said goodbye after a day full of conversations and delicacies cooked by Collei, the birds were already back in their nests, and the serene environment of the forest was a welcome backdrop—although Cyno could see the exhaustion etched into your face. The weight of your growing babies seemed to be taking an increasing toll.

Cyno supported you as you walked, his arm around your waist. “You look tired. Let’s take it slow,” he said gently.

You nodded, your hand resting on your stomach. “It's just... The twins' weight is a little overwhelming today. I’m more fatigued than I expected.”

You walked slowly for a few more minutes until you arrived at an abandoned cabin nestled in the heart of the forest. Cyno helped you inside, guiding you to a comfortable seat by the window, where the soft light of the setting sun bathed the empty room in a warm glow.

As you settled into the chair, you shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more relaxing position, although all you got in response was a dull pain shooting down your spine. A resigned sigh left your lips as you just accepted the situation you were in and waited for the discomfort to pass.

It was when your husband left the room to get something that could help with your relief that you felt a strange, soft vibration in your belly. It was as if butterflies were swirling inside you, bringing you a feeling of strangeness but delight. When you realized what it was really about, your eyes widened in surprise.

“What's the matter? Something wrong?” Cyno asks with concern visible in his expression.

“I think the babies are moving.”

Cyno’s face immediately lit up in excitement, and he approached you, kneeling in your front. His hands were hesitant to touch your stomach and he looked at you. “Can I...?” he asked softly.

You smiled widely and nodded, placing his hand on the spot where you felt the movement. “Of course you can, hayati. You should be able to feel them now.”

Cyno closed his eyes briefly as he felt the small kicks and rhythmic changes beneath his palm. His expression softened into one of admiration and tenderness. “This is incredible,” he murmured. “They are already so active.”

“Tell me about it,” you say with a slight chuckle, “Now it is explained why I’ve been going to the toilet so much the last few days. These little jackals have been squeezing my poor bladder.”

Cyno laughs along with you. However, his eyes were still mesmerized by your belly, his hands lovingly following his children's movements.

At that moment, the world around Cyno didn't seem to exist. It was just him, you, and your babies. You shared a quiet, intimate moment, your connection with your unborn children deepening. The forest outside was peaceful, but inside the cabin, the air was filled with a palpable sense of joy and anticipation.

Kaedehara Kazuha

The sun shone high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the peaceful meadow where Kazuha and his family were enjoying the day. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, their whispers blending harmoniously with the gentle melody of nature. Kazuha sat against a large oak tree with you resting your head in his lap, eyes closed in contentment.

Kazuha's fingers skillfully traced patterns on a windblown leaf, his serene expression a testament to his deep connection to the natural world. Your three-year-old son, Kazumi, ran around the field happily, his laughter mixing with the rustling of the grass as he played with a small wooden toy.

You, with your belly softly rounded with your second child, sighed softly—contentment evident in your relaxed posture. You placed your hands gently on your stomach, stroking it absently.

“I think she’s finally awake,” you murmured.

Kazuha's eyes softened as he looked at you. Until that day Kazuha had never witnessed his unborn daughter moving in your womb. The baby always seemed to be too sleepy to recognize her father's constant presence. “Is that so?”

Before you could nod, a precise kick hit the area above your navel. Your eyes widened at the force of the action, but an ironic laugh soon followed. “Absolutely. Looks like someone woke up to say hi to Papa.”

Kazuha's heart filled with an abundance of emotions. He carefully moved his hand to your belly feeling his little girl's rhythmic kicks. To him, the sensation was delicate, like the wings of a butterfly brushing his palm.

Kazumi, noticing that his parents seemed to be engrossed in something else, staggered towards you with wide curious eyes. He climbed into your thighs and his small hands also rested on your rounded belly. “What is it, ‘Kaa-chan?”

You smile gently, extending your hand to guide the boy's little ones to where the baby is moving. “It’s your little sister, Zumi. She’s saying hello.”

Kazumi's face lit up with wonder as he laid his head on his mother's belly, his little ears pressed against the gentle movements inside. His eyes widened in fascination as he felt the gentle, rhythmic kicks. “I can feel it! Kiki is saying hi!”

Kazuha watched the scene unfold with a soft smile, his heart full at seeing the pure excitement on Kazumi's face and the deep love in his wife's eyes. The night air was filled with peaceful harmony, his family united in this simple yet profound moment of connection and anticipation.

The sun continued to rise, bathing them in a warm, golden light that seemed to celebrate the new life they were eagerly awaiting. As Kazumi continued to listen to his sister's small movements, Kazuha gently brushed away his wife's hair, his pale fingers lingering on your cheek with a tender caress.

“I love you more than anything in this world. Thank you for making me the happiest and most complete man, my love.”

Kaveh

Kaveh stood in the middle of the room that would soon belong to his daughter, his eyes scanning every corner with a mix of determination and excitement. Samples of wallpaper, fabrics, and paint were scattered around him, along with sketches of various design ideas.

“I was thinking about using pastel colors,” he began, turning to you who was sitting in the only armchair in the empty room. “Soft tones of pink, yellow, and green. They are calming and will create a serene and peaceful environment for her. And look at this,” he took out a sample of fabric, holding it up for you to see and touch. It felt smooth against your fingers. “This is perfect for the curtains. It’s light and airy, and will let in just the right amount of sunlight.”

You watched him with a warm smile, allowing your husband to express his desires and thoughts openly, feeling your heart swell with love. “That sounds wonderful, azizam,” you add softly.

Kaveh continued, now walking a little and gesturing as he spoke. “I also want to incorporate some interactive elements. Maybe a mobile above her crib with small animals that move gently. Ah! And we could have a wall with different textures for her to explore as she grows. It’s important to stimulate her senses from an early age.”

As he spoke, you couldn't help but be amused by his reactions, also enjoying seeing this more relaxed yet excited side coming from him. Even though Kaveh considered your opinion as important as his ideas, you loved seeing the dedication the architect put into his designs—and when it came to something as intimate as creating his daughter's nursery, it was to be expected that his passion displayed twice as much.

As he spoke happily, you listened to him in tender silence, but there was a strange feeling bubbling up inside you that left you momentarily intrigued. You attributed it to tiredness, or even hunger, but you ignored it, not wanting to worry Kaveh for nothing, much less interrupting his monologue.

However, the vibration continued as constant, gentle but persistent movements below your navel, bringing you a slight feeling of alarm and surprise. When realization finally hit you, your breathing stopped and your hands immediately rested above your belly, feeling the movements more precisely.

“Kaveh,” you called him, your voice full of wonder.

He stopped mid-sentence and ran to your side seeing your static expression. “What? What’s happening? Are you feeling unwell?”

You shake your head, biting your lip in a futile attempt to contain your laughter. “I think she's moving. Our baby girl is moving!”

Kaveh's look went from worried to shocked in an instant, a wide smile opening soon after. He knelt down in front of you and gently placed his hands on your stomach. A light kick hit the area where his warm palm rested.

“Hello, little one,” he whispered. “Guess you’re as excited about your room as I am, huh?”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “She can already feel how much love you’re putting into this.”

Kaveh looked at you, his expression full of love and devotion. “I want her to know how much she means to us, from this moment until the very second she enters this world. Every detail in this room will be a reminder of that.”

You looked him in the eyes and smiled warmly. With some difficulty, you lean over and press a kiss to his lips to which he happily returns. “She's lucky to have a dad like you, Kaveh. And I am so grateful to have you by my side.”

He stood up and helped you do the same, quickly wrapping his arms around you right after. His head leaned against yours and you found yourself cradled in a hug filled with affection.

“We will be the best parents we can be, azizam. I promise.”

Lyney

The soft glow of the night lanterns filled the room with a warm, golden light. The living room was filled with a pleasant mix of the smell of burning incense and the faint scent of fresh wool. Lyney was sitting at a small, ornate table, focused intently on a new magic trick involving his pyro vision. Flames danced gracefully around his hands as he wove them into intricate shapes, their flickering light casting playful shadows on the walls.

Opposite him, you made yourself comfortable on the couch, your pregnant belly prominent under your loose robe. You were diligently knitting a pair of socks, each stitch coming together with the precision of a well-trained hand. The rhythmic clicking of your needles provided a calming counterpoint to Lyney's fiery display.

Lyney's latest trick involved sending a small burst of flame through a series of arches suspended in the air. He was so absorbed in perfecting his performance that he barely noticed the absence of the knitting needles and the change in your expression.

Suddenly, you let out a loud sigh—a sigh filled with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Your hand instinctively rested on your belly, the intricate strands of wool quickly forgotten.

Lyney's concentration broke and he turned towards you with a start, dropping all his tools and heading towards your way. “Everything is fine, sweetheart? Did you get hurt? I knew I shouldn’t train at home!” he blurted out the words in a frenzy, his voice tinged with worry.

You looked at him with your eyes shining with emotion. Your husband became more and more exasperated.

“No no. That's not it. Quite the opposite actually,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I can feel them moving!”

Lyney's eyes widened, a huge smile spreading across his face as he realized what you meant. His expression was excited, and he sit next to you. “For real? This is incredible, chérie!”

You nodded, your hand gently stroking your belly and Lyney's just above yours. “It’s such a strange and wonderful feeling. It's so subtle that it almost doesn't seem to be there. I never imagined it would be like this.”

As if they knew they now had the full attention of both parents, the babies lightly kicked the area above your navel, eliciting another excited smile from you and a look of admiration from your husband for being able to be part of such a beautiful and intimate moment for the first time. He would never admit it, but his purple irises sparkled with happy tears for a few seconds.

With a tender smile, you shared this serene feeling in silence. The room seemed to glow a little brighter as you sat together, your bond deepened by this new shared experience. Lyney leaned over, resting his head on yours, hands still resting on your belly feeling the slight vibrations there.

“How about we take a break from magic and knitting? Let’s just enjoy this moment together.”

You giggled softly, your heart warmed by his loving gesture. “That sounds perfect.”

Neuvillette

In the calmness of Neuvillette's office, the dusk in the sky cast a warm light over all of Fontaine. Its golden and orange rays crossed through the windows of the room, creating a serene atmosphere.

Neuvillette sat behind his desk, his usual composed expression softening into one of gentle contentment as he leaned back in his chair. Opposite him, you sat comfortably in the armchair, one delicate hand resting on your growing belly and a cup of tea in the other.

The afternoon was calm, with only the faint hum of the city beyond the window in the background. Neuvillette looked at you with a warm smile touching his lips as he observed your relaxed posture. You were talking about your day, your voice carrying a gentle melody. Neuvillette listened intently, his eyes never straying too far from your face, enjoying the simple joy of your shared moments.

As you spoke, a subtle change occurred in your expression that didn’t go unnoticed by his sharp eyes. Your eyes widened slightly, and you placed a hand on your stomach, your fingers gently tracing its curve. Neuvillette immediately noticed the action and looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Is everything alright, mon amour?” he asked, his voice carrying a slight hint of alarm.

Your eyes glowed with a mixture of surprise and joy. “I think… I think Éveline just moved,” you respond, your voice shaking with emotion.

Neuvillette's eyes widened as well, and he quickly moved to your side, his hesitant but gentle hand covering yours on your belly. “May I?” he asked softly, his usual formality melting in the heat of the moment.

You nodded, your smile growing as you guided his hand to the right place. For a few seconds, you both just sat, your breaths mingling in the silent space. Then, Neuvillette felt it—a gentle vibration beneath his palm, a small movement that was both fleeting and profound. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

“She’s already so active.”

A giggle escaped your lips. “Apparently yes. She’s letting us know she’ll be here as soon as we expect.”

Neuvillette took a deep breath, trying to savor the moment as his hand intertwined with yours. “I suppose this is one of those rare moments when words fail to capture the full depth of our feelings.”

“I couldn’t agree more, darling.”

Wriothesley

Wriothesley stood at the bedroom window, admiring the marine life outside, which was enjoying the sunlight reflected in the crystal-clear waters of the Fontaine's sea. He was already dressed in his usual attire, mentally preparing himself for another day of responsibilities at the Fortress or Meropide. Despite the weight of his duties, a small smile played on his lips as he listened to the sound of water running from the shower in the adjacent bathroom.

“Are you done, love?” he shouted, looking at the clock on the wall. “We have a council meeting in half an hour.”

Your voice floated back, warm and cheerful. “Give me two minutes, Wrio. I'm almost finishing.”

He shook his head, amused by your nonchalance. Even pregnant with your first child, you continued to be a pillar of strength and efficiency, working alongside him to keep the prison running smoothly. The thought of his unborn child brought a gentle warmth to his heart, a feeling he was still getting used to.

He began to organize some papers on his desk, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming meeting, when an abrupt, piercing scream crossed the air. Wriothesley's heart leaped into his throat, and he ran toward the door.

“Sweetheart, what happened? Did you get hurt?” his voice was full of panic as he walked in, expecting the worst.

Standing there in the shower, allowing the water to cascade over your naked body, your hands cradled your belly. Though your eyes were wide, there was no fear in them—just astonished joy.

“Everything is fine. I’m fine,” you reassured him, your voice shaking with emotion. “He kicked. The baby kicked for the first time.”

Relief washed over him, quickly replaced by a wave of wonder and joy. He helped you out of the shower and then pulled you into his embrace, not caring that he was getting wet due to your body that just came out of the shower. Gently, he placed his hand on your belly and waited a few seconds before he too could feel the slight movement under the curving skin.

“There he is,” he whispered, his expression melting in pure devotion. “Our son.”

You nodded, happy tears blurring your eyes. “Sigewinne said it was normal for some babies not to move in their mothers’ wombs, but I think he’s finally trying to say that he’s as eager to meet us as we are to meet him.”

Wriothesley leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to meet him too,” he said softly. “This is the best way to start a day.”

Your husband held you for a while longer, just reveling in your presence and the magical feeling of your unborn baby being present under the palm of his hand before he reluctantly pulled away.

“Although I'd like nothing else than stay here forever, we must dry and dress you. We have a meeting to attend and I want our little one to see how his mom looks like when she's doing what she does best.”

You waved in contagious joy. “Of course, Duke. As you wish.”

After a few more exchanges of caresses, you prepared for the day, your hearts excited for the new life growing. Fortitude may take a lot out of you, but moments like these remind you of the joy and love that made each challenge worth it.

BONUS

Heizou

Moonlight streamed in through the bedroom window, casting a soft, silvery glow over it. Heizou was lying comfortably behind his pregnant wife, his hand resting gently on your rounded belly. The room was quiet except for your steady breathing and the occasional rustling of the sheets.

Suddenly, the detective felt a slight movement under his hand. It was no wonder he was such a light sleeper given his job and all. And then, because he thought it was you constantly moving in your sleep, he chuckled softly, bringing you closer to his embrace. “Can't stay still, huh?”, he murmured playfully.

Feeling the same movement, you opened your eyes slightly and lightly pinched his thigh. “Stop poking my belly,” you mumble, still sleepy, “You know it tickles.”

Heizou smiled in the dim light. “I’m not poking you,” he replied, gently patting your belly. “Maybe you’re just dreaming.”

You sighed, momentarily awake, and turned to face him, narrowing your eyes in mock severity. “Oh, of course. Blame my dreams when you're always the one causing trouble.”

Heizou raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Me? Causing problems? I would never do that.”

You stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, taking care that the loud sound of your voices didn't disturb anyone else's sleep.

When you were coming back to him with another bicker comment, another subtle movement appeared and interrupted your joking time. You caught your breath in surprise and placed your hand over your husband's, which was already resting on your belly.

“Did you feel that?”

Heizou's playful smile disappeared and was replaced by an expression of delight. “I did,” he replied, his voice now a mere whisper. “You think...?”

“It’s the baby,” you nodded, your eyes shining with joy. “Our little Ren is moving.”

Heizou's face lit up with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. “Well, it looks like our baby takes after me,” he said, his teasing tone returning. “It’s already causing a bit of confusion.”

You rolled your eyes but giggled, “Great, just what I needed—two troublemakers.”

Heizou leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “You love it,” he whispered, his eyes shining.

You rested a hand on his cheek, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth and love. "I do. I love you both."

You stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the shared joy of feeling the baby's first movements. “You know,” Heizou said thoughtfully, “if this is how our little one is right now, we might be in for some sleepless nights.”

You laughed a little louder this time.

“Well, I was already prepared for that. Besides, I have you by my side. So I think we will do very well.”

Heizou kissed you gently. “We will be the best team, my dear,” he promised.

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brujaluas · 2 months ago

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How will your future spouse feel when you touch they?

pile 1

This pile here contains sensitive content, it's up to you to read it or no.

I'm feeling confused here, I'd say your future spouse may have some issues with touching, including the most intimate ones, some kind of trauma or a really bad experience that has left them on high alert all the time, and it was possibly even another woman who made them feel this way, so it's something you need to have a lot of empathy and care for, when you touch them they feel very thoughtful about it and feel happy soon after because it's you touching them but then the bad feelings come back again, not because of you, but because of the things they've been through, very sympathetic energy, be patient with them and understand that everyone needs space, when you're their partner encourage them to go to therapy, couples groups, always showing that you're there for them.

pile 2

Soft and calm energy, for some you awaken their feminine side, making everything more vibrant and for others they really like your feminine energy and delicacy in touches and feelings, in the way you show your love (regardless of gender), they feel like they found the perfect fit, what they were looking for, it hadn't worked out before because it had to be with you, you know, something like that, they feel something and really guided, they feel loved and I'm hearing "I feel loved and not objectified".

pile 3

You will be dealing with a very shy person, your future spouse is quite introverted and may have had problems with their own sexuality throughout their life, they may even have had a certain reluctance or shyness in touching themselves and getting to know their own body, if you understand, they will like and want and appreciate your stock only when you are completely alone, like on a deserted beach where there is only human life 10 km away lol not because they are ashamed of you or anything like that, but they are just very very very shy, and they cannot deal with it, even within a relationship they may be shy in other relationship issues, anyway it is something that you need to work on, because this person feels very trapped and with bad feelings because of this, they do not like being like that.

#witchy things #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #pick a card #tarot deck #divination #tarot reading #tarot cards #free tarot #pick a photo #pick a picture #tarot reading future spouse #future spouse reading #oracle #oracle cards

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rennalaqotfm · 3 months ago

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𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART II)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Smut (MDNI 18+), incest, step-sibling incest, gangbang (-ish?), nipple stimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, getting caught, mentions of death, alcohol consumption, and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said.

WC: 5.0k

Series Masterlist

(A/N and taglist at the end of the chapter)

As war brewed in Westeros, the land of Dorne basked in the golden sun and its sweeping dunes. The ravens from House Targaryen had been met with little favour, and House Martell found their desperation rather amusing.

In the Old Palace of Sunspear, Princess Y/n and Prince Elyas Martell lounged in the Solar, a secluded chamber reserved for their idle indulgence, always with a cup of wine in hand. The space, bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the thin organdy curtains, was filled with the scent of magnolias, a flower that so rarely thrived in the harsh conditions in the desert.

The siblings had been raised under a veil of extravagance, tasted the rarest delicacies, worn the most exquisite fabrics, and known pleasures that most could never fathom. Yet, they sat in the heart of Old Palace, gazing out at the unchanging arid scenery before them, left with a lingering sense of disillusionment. The world outside their palace walls offered little more than echoes of what they had already experienced, and each new day arrived with the inevitable savour of anti-climax.

The company of the siblings was never without their sworn protectors, the bastard sons of Prince Qoren, Casymir and Leoran Sand, whose presence was like the shadows of the Prince and Princess, mostly unnoticed, but part of them nonetheless. The twins were leaning on the double doors, their golden spears placed against the wall as they listened to the Prince and Princess' idle conversations with a hint of amusement on their faces.

"Can you believe them, sister?" Elyas licked the wine off his lower lip. He was slumped on the settee with Y/n’s legs resting on his lap. "Asking for your hand through a raven? That boy of three-and-ten from House Briar showed more courage than those Dragonlords," he chuckled, remembering how the young lord showed up by the gates of the Old Palace with nothing more than the promise of a life free from hardships and an heir that will make Dorne even more prosperous than it already was.

"That boy looked like he still fed on his mother's tit," Casymir, the older twin laughed.

Princess Y/n merely rolled her eyes, too tired to jest with them. She took another sip of wine as her eyes lazily stared at Elyas' hands gently massaging her legs.

"What bothers me is that Father is still taking his time to send ravens back to those Dragonlords," she muttered. "He usually wouldn't bother to respond to any plea for support involving other houses, so it's possible that he might be considering our alliance."

"You read both messages Father sent them, he clearly refused any deal they proposed," Elyas' hands crawled to her thighs, disappearing under the silken fabric of her dress and began kneading her lean muscles.

"Of course he did. He wouldn't want to make it seem like we yield so easily," Y/n traced the edge of her cup with her finger. "Father is many things, but he's not a fool. He knows that they're expecting him to refuse. The longer he plays this game, the more desperate they'll become, and... mayhaps he sees more value in keeping them on edge."

"And what about the Velaryon boy?" Leoran asked.

"What about him?" She sighed, growing irritated as the past few weeks' conversations seemed to circle back to the Targaryens.

"How does it feel to have the future king of the realm seeking your hand?" He asked.

"He's no different from the others. A man is still a man, no matter his title. And so far, they've all shown me nothing I haven't already seen," Y/n’s gaze drifted out the window, her expression indifferent.

"Be truthful now, sister," Elyas teased, moving his hands even closer to her womanhood as he continued to massage her thighs. "Don't tell me the idea of marrying a dragon rider doesn't excite you."

"Those dragon riders tried to conquer our lands before, why would I want to marry one of them?" She asked with a hint of annoyance, realising shortly how Elyas was just trying to provoke her. She took another sip of wine. Although it was typical for her brother to irritate her on purpose, she still enjoyed the touches that came along with it.

"So you wouldn't even consider marrying him?" He parted her legs slightly, snaking his hand between her thighs as began to tease her clothed slit.

"No," she frowned, growing frustrated as Elyas kept teasing her, knowing all too well how to pull her strings and make her surrender under his touch.

The twins' eyes were fixed on them, a smirk spreading across their faces as they watched her grind her hips against his palm. Y/n sat up and Elyas got on his knees, hiking up her dress and fully exposing her legs to them. Leoran began to palm his cock through his trousers at the sight of Elyas peeling away Y/n’s undergarments, his eyes never missing the thin string of her arousal that clung to the fabric. He pushed her legs further apart, making sure that the twins could see how her tight hole clenched and unclenched, welcoming even the slightest touch.

"Even if he's the Crown Prince?" Elyas purred. He felt his erect cock painfully straining against his trousers as his fingers sunk into the soft flesh of her ass, pulling her closer to him until her cunt was merely inches away from his face. He was tempted to delve his tongue into her needy hole, yet he resisted and began to nip and suckle on her inner thigh. "Answer me, sister," he demanded, his dark eyes looking up at the Princess.

Y/n huffed at his words, growing impatient as she knew that Elyas was going to keep up his sweet torment until he heard what he wanted to hear.

"Even if he's the Crown Prince," she echoed his words, her skin prickling as she felt his hot breath fanning on her entrance.

The Prince seemed to have been satisfied with her response as his tongue lapped at her wet folds without a warning, tearing a moan from her as his nose occasionally nuzzled against her clit, making her buckle her hips against his face.

She lazily tore her eyes from her brother and fixed her gaze on the twins, whose trousers and breastplates were already discarded on the floor, exposing their lean muscles akin to a bronze sculpture. They were pumping their cocks at the sight of her wet cunt being feasted on by Elyas, who was still fully dressed, as he was too lost in devouring the sweet taste of her juices. When the Princess made eye contact with them, they nodded and stood up, understanding her silent command. They sat on either side of Y/n, their cocks twitching as she placed her hands on their thighs. Then she turned to face Casymir, cupped his cheek and stared up at him with half-lidded eyes before leaning forward for an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue swirling around hers.

Leoran tucked the Princess' hair back, exposing her neck. He began to trail wet kisses from under her ear and stopped at the hollow of her neck as he fondled her breast, teasing her erect nipple with his fingers through the thin fabric of her dress. Still unsatisfied, he pulled the strap down, partly exposing her chest. Leoran pressed his face against the soft flesh, taking in her sweet scent before he brushed his lips against her nipple and began suckling on it like a hungry babe.

Casymir slipped the other strap off her shoulder, and her dress bunched around her waist, fully exposing her chest. The warm breeze caressed her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Imitating his younger twin, Casymir's lips latched on to the other nipple and pulled, almost painfully, and he released it with a loud pop before repeating his actions. When he was finished tormenting the sensitive bud, he took as much of her breast in his mouth, hungrily swirling his tongue around the soft flesh.

As the twins sucked on each of her tits and Elyas had his face buried in her cunt, Y/n reached down to grab the twins' cocks that jolted with her touch, already oozing with precum. She began stroking their lengths, feeling how the thick veins pulsated against her palms.

Y/n’s eyes rolled back in pleasure, unable to bear how they feasted on her flesh as if she were a lamb being devoured by wolves. No one in the room was holding back their moans, filling the space with obscene noises. The Solar, which had just been meticulously tidied by the servants, had now turned into a chaotic scene of disarray: cushions from the settee were scattered haphazardly, some thrown onto the ground, whilst their cups of wine had tipped over, leaving dark red stains that seeped into the rugs.

Feeling the fire pooling low in her abdomen, she knew that it was up to Elyas whether she got to cum or not.

"Swear it to me, sister," Elyas stopped sucking her clit, only to slide two fingers into her weeping cunt. "Swear to me that I'll be your betrothed. You and I shall rule Dorne together."

He alternated between curling his digits and pumping them in and out, hitting her sweet spot with ease and causing her to arch her back in delight. At that moment, the Princess only sought the pleasure of her own release. Enslaved with the rush that was coming, she parted her lips, ready to seal the promise.

"I—"

Just before she could finish speaking, the doors of the Solar flung open with a loud crash.

The four of them snapped out of their trance, their faces clouded with irritation that someone had dared to interrupt the high they were chasing. Ser Domeric Uller, the informant of House Martell, stood unimpressed at the wanton scene before him, already used to the siblings' shenanigans.

"My Princess, my Prince," Ser Domeric began, "Rhaenyra Targaryen is in the Hall of the Sun, and your presence has been requested immediately."

The unexpected arrival of the Targaryens on dragonback had been received as a threat of battle. When the Dornish sails spotted the winged beasts tearing the clouds apart, their hearts pounded with dread. The three dragons shattered the peaceful Dornish skies with their deafening roars, sending shockwaves of terror through the port city of Sunspear. The smallfolk, who had never seen such creatures so close, scattered back to their homes, their fear spreading like wildfire.

Princess Y/n muttered under her breath as she made her way to the Hall of the Sun, trying to compose herself as she had barely taken a moment to ensure she didn't appear dishevelled. Her previous dress had been crumpled, forcing her to hastily throw on another while urging her handmaiden to make her hair look presentable. With each step, she could still feel the uncomfortable cling of arousal on her thighs. She was closely followed by her brother and their sworn protectors, who weren't any less irritated than she was, as they fumbled with their trousers.

Their youngest brother, Prince Farien, was already waiting for them outside the hall with Ser Domeric, who couldn't stand still.

"Is everything alright, Farien?" Y/n asked the boy.

"D- dragons..." he whispered. "They brought dragons..."

Y/n and Elyas exchanged a look of concern, but her eyes widened, catching how Elyas' chin was still glistening with her arousal.

"Wipe your chin," she hissed.

Elyas complied, wiping his face with the sleeve of his tunic, staining it in the process. The siblings and the twins stared at each other, ensuring that there was no trace of what had just happened moments ago. With one final nod, Casymir and Leoran pushed the doors open, clearing a wide path for Prince Qoren's children.

The three Martells, adorned in their house's colours and draped in golden jewellery that chimed with each step they took, resembled the radiant rays of the sun. Y/n and Elyas sauntered across the hall with their heads held high, feeling the piercing gaze of the Targaryens they had yet refused to look in the eye. Elyas' eyes swept over the hall with a dismissive air, trying to mask the dread running down his spine as he heard the dragons' deafening screeches nearby for the first time, while Prince Farien ran across the hall and jumped onto his father's lap.

There was no way to read Prince Qoren's expression. How must he have felt at that moment? The Targaryens, their rivals, had arrived in Sunspear unannounced with three dragons, no less, inciting fear among his people and sparking rumours that they had come once again to conquer their lands.

"Father," Y/n greeted Prince Qoren with a quick peck on his cheek.

Prince Qoren hummed in response as he rubbed his youngest son's back to soothe him. Even at his advanced age of five-and-sixty, Prince Qoren's striking features weren't any less noticeable. If it weren't for the shadows in his eyes that had seen countless battles and tribulations, and his silvering curls that were once as black as ink, he would've been easily mistaken as his son Elyas in his youth.

Y/n perched herself on the armrest of her father's seat, while Elyas casually leaned on the other side. The four Martells stared at the Targaryens, their poised, disinterested stance akin to a nest of vipers, coiled and ready to strike at anyone who dared come too close.

"House Targaryen, you stand before the presence of Prince Qoren Martell of Sunspear, Prince of Dorne; Princess Y/n Martell of Sunspear; Prince Elyas Martell of Sunspear; and Prince Farien Martell of Sunspear," Ser Domeric announced, his deep voice reverberating through the hall.

Ser Domeric finished introducing the Martells, their faces refusing to betray their racing thoughts, showing nothing more but contempt in their dark eyes.

"House Martell, you have been graced by the presence of Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men; the King Consort, Daemon Targaryen; and Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, the Crown Prince, who have travelled all the way from Dragonstone."

The Targaryens strode to the centre of the hall, followed by three guards who never stopped pointing their spears at them, though that didn't prevent them from exuding the same air of superiority that marked their bloodline. Rhaenyra took a step forward, and Daemon and Jacaerys dutifully bent their knees in reverence to their queen.

A suffocating silence fell over the hall as the Martells remained motionless.

"Bend the knee and show respect before your Queen," Daemon commanded, his gaze defiant against the Martells.

Y/n and Elyas shared a quick look before bursting into laughter, their father joining in until his face turned red.

"Have you forgotten where you are, my King Consort?" Prince Qoren asked with a deep, mocking chuckle, unbothered by the palpable tension brewing in the hall. "We Martells refuse to bend the knee for you, Dragonlords. Never have, and never will."

Daemon Targaryen's face twisted in indignation, not tolerating the blatant disrespect. Had they been in Dragonstone, their heads would no longer be attached to their bodies. His fingers tightly curled around the grip of his sword, but Rhaenyra's subtle gesture made him stop.

"Has your independence also prevented you from learning manners, Prince Qoren?" Daemon asked through his teeth.

"Mayhaps our independence has spared us from the Targaryen's arrogance that comes with sitting on the Iron Throne too long," he raised his cup at him.

"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken..." Rhaenyra recited House Martell's motto, trying to defuse the tension. "Prince Qoren, we are well aware that House Martell has proudly stood on its own. We have respected your sovereignty throughout the years, and we have no intention of disturbing that peace. We did not come here to conquer, but to forge an alliance."

"Yet you arrive in our lands with three dragons, ready to reduce Sunspear into ashes at your command?" Y/n raised her brow, her gaze locked with Rhaenyra's, each daring the other to look away.

"If we intended to burn Sunspear, Princess, we would have done so already," Daemon retorted.

"Oh, so now we're to be grateful we're still alive?" Elyas scoffed.

"Prince Qoren, let me ask you, you would not want history to repeat itself, would you?" Rhaenyra asked.

"Is that a threat?" Prince Qoren asked back, any trace of amusement in his face now gone.

"I am merely stating that once the Greens win this war, they will seek to bring the whole of Westeros to heel, and Dorne will not be spared."

"We have successfully stood our ground in the First Dornish War. What makes you think we can't do it again?" Prince Qoren asked.

"No house will be safe from Aemond's wicked hand, my Prince," Daemon stated. "That boy honours nothing but cruelty, and is seduced by the promise of his own ascent."

"Doesn't sound so different from the rest of you," Prince Qoren scoffed. He reached for another cup of wine, taking a swig before he continued speaking. "Greens, Blacks... What does it matter? Why would we want to get involved in this war in any way, if we could just sit back and watch you burn your own house to the ground?"

As they bickered back and forth, Y/n and Jacaerys shared a look. The Princess couldn't deny the Velaryon boy was rather pleasing to look at, but she already had her fair share of good-looking lords who met the same fate as the rest of her suitors.

"Prince Qoren," Prince Jacaerys spoke for the first time, "I know that with the history of our houses, it is easy to dwell in the past, but we did not travel all the way from Dragonstone to reopen old wounds. We came here to heal them. We intend to make amends for the past and to forge a new path forward, one that begins with my request for the hand of your daughter, Princess Y/n," he rose from the ground, his eyes defiant.

"And you couldn't come alone, boy? Did you need your mother to hold your hand while you do so?" Prince Qoren chuckled, his eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. "Prudent of you, I suppose. But Dorne has danced with dragons before, and I would sooner sleep with scorpions. However, if it's the hand of my daughter you seek, she will be the one to decide whether or not you are worthy."

Prince Jacaerys clenched his jaw, trying to ignore Prince Qoren's attempts at ridiculing him.

"I know the Princess must have faced countless suitors and is growing restless about their never-ending courtship, all promising her wealth, power, and lands she already possesses in abundance. But let me ask you, Princess, have any of them offered you the chance to become the Queen?"

"How bold of you to ask for my sister's hand without first proving yourself worthy," Elyas spoke in his sister's stead, seeing how she didn't seem completely opposed to the Velaryon boy's proposal. "The Princess wouldn't entertain any proposal without a trial by battle, as you may have noticed from the rotting corpses of her suitors in the desert," he taunted the Velaryon boy.

Y/n shot her brother a sharp glance and he merely shrugged back, as if to say that it was his duty to put the arrogance of the Crown Prince in place.

"It's a tempting offer, my Prince, but I don't care much for titles. I'm of sun and sand, and my duties lie here in Dorne," Y/n said, examining the young prince before her. He stood with confidence and poise, yet there was a naive glimmer in his eyes as if he believed his proposal would be accepted without question. "However, if you wish to seek my hand, I won't deny you the chance, but as my brother said, you must prove your courage in battle if you wish to be taken seriously. You've shown me what you're willing to offer, but what are you willing to sacrifice?" She smirked, challenging the young prince.

Jacaerys stiffened at Y/n’s words, feeling the weight of her challenge. He recalled the lifeless body of a boy from House Briar in the desert, just one among countless lords from other houses who were once known for their swordsmanship skills but had been reduced to nothing more than a feast for crows. His expression faltered for a moment, the confidence he had displayed wavering under the pressing gaze of the Princess. He glanced at his mother and Daemon, seeking reassurance, only to realise they also shared the same look of uncertainty.

"I came here to forge an alliance, not to shed blood," he replied, his voice steady despite his heartbeat thundering against his chest. "But if it is courage you seek, then I will show you that I am not one to shy away from a challenge," he said, forcing himself to meet Y/n’s gaze.

"Very well," the Princess replied, a satisfied smile curling on her lips. "The trial shall commence on the morrow. I trust the Prince is weary from his long journey, so let him rest well."

It was the hour of the wolf, and the unease in the Old Palace was palpable. The restlessness wasn't only confined to its walls as even the smallfolk were on edge, since word had spread that war was imminent. The distant screeches of winged beasts echoed through the night sky, stirring memories of the First Dornish War.

Prince Elyas kept glaring daggers at the back of his sister's head as he followed her to the Council Chamber, where their father awaited them.

"What was that?" Elyas grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to face him. "What happened to not considering his proposal, sister?"

Prince Farien, who walked hand in hand with his sister, cocked his head as he watched his older siblings exchange words heatedly.

"Are they going to feed us to their dragons if you say no to the Prince?" He asked, looking up at his older sister.

"You'll be the first one they'll be eating," Elyas muttered, causing the boy to shudder.

"Don't listen to him, Farien. I won't let that happen," she cupped the little boy's cheek and glared at Elyas.

"I could see it in your eyes, sister. You were tempted to agree," Elyas kept pressing her, trying to mask the pain in his voice with anger.

"Mayhaps your jealousy is clouding your judgement, brother," she said, continuing her stride and not giving him the satisfaction of engaging with the argument. "The Prince is merely another suitor, like the many lords who have previously sought my hand. It's only fair that I give him the same opportunity as the others."

"Then let me fight for you this time, and once I defeat him I shall finally take your hand like we've always planned. I've waited far too long, sister."

"This isn't your battle to fight, Elyas," she muttered, entering the Council Chamber as Casymir and Leoran remained outside, guarding the doors.

"Father," they said in unison, taking their seats around the golden table.

Prince Qoren rubbed his greying beard, lost in thought, with an empty cup in hand. Y/n caressed Farien's wild curls as he plopped himself on her lap, his legs barely able to reach the ground.

"I wish to speak with Y/n, alone," Prince Qoren said.

After a moment of silence, Elyas stood up begrudgingly, never tearing her gaze from his sister, who didn't shy away from glaring back.

"Very well, Father," Elyas replied, taking his younger brother in his arms, and trying to not let his father's dismissal affect him.

The doors closed behind them, leaving father and daughter alone in the Council Chamber.

"Is something the matter, Father?" She leaned back into her seat, taking the cup of wine that her father poured her.

"I must admit, I'm at a loss," he sighed, defeated. "Gods... how has everything come to this? These bloody Targaryens have nothing better to do than start wars they can't finish on their own," he sighed as he shook his head. "We always used to laugh at the Old King Viserys, but he would've never allowed this to happen. Twenty-six years! That old man has given us twenty-six years of peace, only to be disrupted by his children's tomfoolery!" he took another swig from his cup, wiping the droplets with his sleeve. "I truly had no intention of taking part in this war, but if the Triarchy is involved, then we are left in an extremely vulnerable position."

Y/n nodded her head, listening intently to her father, already knowing where his argument would take a turn.

"Tell me, daughter. What do you think the Greens offered the Triarchy in exchange for their support?" He asked.

"The Stepstones," she replied firmly. "Up until Daemon's conquest, the Stepstones haven't belonged to anyone. But if the Triarchy ends up getting a hold of it, then they would have the leverage to disrupt our trade routes and invade our territories."

Prince Qoren hummed with satisfaction at his daughter's words.

"What are you implying, Father?" Y/n asked.

"There is no way out for us in this war, Y/n," he said in resignation. "It only leaves us with two options. Join Rhaenyra, or face the Triarchy once their war is over."

The Princess pursed her lips, refusing to accept either of the choices they had.

"We'd be fools to wage war against the Triarchy," the Princess shook her head. "And if they have the Greens' support, whatever fate befell them in this war could easily become our own. As the Blacks have blockaded the Gullet, they could just as easily set a blockade in the Narrow Sea."

"So that leaves us with—"

"There must be another way. How could you even think of that, Father?" She cut him off, unable to control the anger that was bubbling in her chest. "You wish to aid the house that tried to burn ours to the ground?"

"And you think I haven't dwelled on that already?" Prince Qoren asked. "They're offering us to make an alliance, and we have the upper hand—"

"They want to make us think that. We don't have the upper hand if they're doing it on their own terms, Father. It should be us who set the conditions, since they need us more than we need them," Y/n slammed her fist against the table, standing up, not expecting her father to give up so easily.

The Princess took a few deep breaths, feeling guilty after raising her voice at her own father.

"Forgive me, Father. I overreacted," she looked down. "I appreciate your trust for only letting me hear your thoughts, but I don't think Elyas nor the rest of the council would take your stance well, either."

"Your brother needs to learn from you. He has a long way to go, but his unruly temper will be his demise."

"Truth be told, we aren't much different from one another," she smiled sadly. "But please, Father. We must tread carefully. I know these are dire times and we can't keep running away from conflict forever, but there must be a way around this."

"Listen to me, my dear daughter," Prince Qoren looked at the Princess with solemn eyes. "Your great-grandsire had told me about the First Dornish War when I was merely a boy of five. He still recalled how his father, Prince Nymor, told the events as though they were a tale of glory. But he saw things differently. He saw things as they truly were. Our people paid in blood, and the sands of Dorne were stained red with the lives lost during those dark years.

When Aegon Targaryen and his sisters came to our lands, they brought a storm of fire and death. Countless were burned alive in their homes as they ran for their lives. The dragons did not distinguish between soldiers and children, between the rich and the poor, and mothers watched their children burn as fathers tried to protect their families in vain.

And yet, despite all this, we endured. But at what cost, Y/n? At what cost did we keep our independence? Hundreds of thousands of lives were lost, families were destroyed, and our lands were left in ruins. The legacy of that war is not just our freedom, but the memory of the suffering our people endured. That is the burden we carry, the price that was paid.

And if what they say about that boy Aemond is true, if he plans to bring the whole of Westeros to heel, then I fear that'll be the beginning of the Second Dornish War... and as your father, that is something I don't want you, your brothers, and our people to ever live."

Once Prince Qoren stopped speaking, his eyes were filled with sorrow, and Y/n couldn't help but reach for his hand.

"Why are you telling me this, Father?"

"You are to become the Princess of Dorne once I pass," Prince Qoren smiled sadly. "I wish I could carry the burden of this choice, so you won't have to bear its consequences but..."

"Father, I—"

"Tomorrow's trial will determine more than just your marriage with the Velaryon boy. It will shape the future of Dorne. We may well find ourselves bound to a war that is not our own, or face the Greens and the Triarchy, marking the start of the Second Dornish War. I'm truly sorry that you have to bear this burden, but the decision rests with you."

A/N: Hello my lovelies! I want to thank you all for the overwhelming support on this fic. I already have a couple of ideas for Chapter 3, and we will be seeing even more action!

Some of the lines might sound a bit familiar, for example, 'each new day arrived with the inevitable savour of anti-climax,' which is inspired by TGG when Nick was talking about Tom Buchanan, and I thought it perfectly described the life the Martells siblings had been living.

Another one is 'Dorne has danced with dragons before, and I would sooner sleep with scorpions,' which is actually Prince Qoren's reply to Otto Hightower's letter when he was asking for support during the Dance of Dragons (according to the asoiaf wiki).

Also, idky but at first I was imagining Qoren Martell as Mario Cimarro (Pasión de Gavilanes, anyone?) because I can just totally see him playing the role of someone being a super sarcastic bossbitch ruler while having a soft spot for his daughter. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on which actors the rest of the OCs remind you of, especially the twins and Elyas! And if I have time, I might do one of those 'get to know your OC' posts hehe.

If you wish to be added to the taglist, please fill out this form for easier management.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Until next time ;)

Taglist: @happinessinthebeing @deltamoon666 @dark1paradise @elz-zalarrr @v0dka4a @yohanseyebrowmole @dracaryxzs @ladyofvelaryon @burningwitchobject @lovelyteenagebeard @redtragedyarcade @dragonrider-3000 @labellapeaky @winter-soldier-101

#dragonspear #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jace x you #jace x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house martell #oc x reader #oc x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x you smut

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myhappylittlesideblog · 8 months ago

Text

Gotch-yer Back

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Violence, Walker death, other TWD character death (Amy), Daryl being a bit of a jerk and then fixing it, let me know if there's anything else! Basically what seems to be regular TWD fanfic warnings. Also I believe this is only Fem!Reader because he calls Reader "girl."

Summary: A retelling of the night walkers attack at the quarry and how you and Daryl help each other deal with the aftermath.

You tried to remember the last time you’d eaten fish. It had been a while, a few weeks maybe? A few long weeks forcing yourself to eat squirrel or a rabbit if you were lucky. Or if you were unlucky, even snake. You’d eat whatever was caught if you were hungry enough, or simply to stay alive another day.

Fish was a delicacy these days. The girls- Amy and Andrea had caught a load of them in the quarry. It was white fish which had always been your favorite. It was easy to cook and fell apart in yummy flakes. Hell, you didn’t even need a fork.

It was hot in your mouth and the heat of the meal radiated in your belly. The group chewed and chattered while you were lost in your own thoughts. Your mother used to make a great dish when you lived with her. Cod with a breading on top that was made with Ritz crackers. You missed her. You missed her cooking. You wondered where she was now-

Everyone laughed suddenly and the sound made you jump.

“William Faukner,” Dale said, smiling.

Lori reached over Carl and rested a comforting hand on your arm. Understanding glowed in her eyes in the firelight. Loud noises always made you nervous these days.

By the time you saw the pan of fish that had been passed around, the last filet was being pulled out of it by a stabbing fork.

“Shouldn’t we save some?” you asked Lori. “The guys’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll catch some more tomorrow,” Andrea said to you, catching your attention from a few seats down.

“Yeah,” Amy said. “We’re pros.”

Despite the light conversation, Lori looked grim. You and her seemed to be the only people worried about the men who’d gone off to find Merle and the bag of guns that was left in the street in Atlanta. She had her arm around Carl as he munched and grinned at Dale. You couldn’t imagine how she was feeling about her husband’s return, nevermind his volunteering to lead the charge back into one of the most dangerous places in this new age. He’d just gotten back. It was written all over her face as she gazed into the flames of the fire.

You weren’t a fan of Merle. In fact, you disliked him thoroughly. The pit in your gut surrounding his abandonment had nothing to do with his safety, or his life, but with Daryl’s. You weren’t even sure if you liked the younger Dixon either. He seemed to follow too closely in his brother’s footsteps to be safe or dependable. Or even nice. But you did respect him. After all, he’d helped to keep you safe and almost single handedly kept the group fed with his hunting and tracking skills.

Still, no. He wasn’t very nice.

You had a feeling, however, that you had his respect in return. It only took a few crude remarks from Merle for you to fire back at him with enough force to keep him off your back for a few days. Daryl apparently hadn’t been too far away that day and had heard your reply to Merle’s degrading comments.

“Impressive,” he’d said. “For a quiet girl.”

The next time Merle got colorful with his words towards you, Daryl was the one to take the heat for you. Told his brother to quit it. Since then, your relationship with the older Dixon was extremely minimal and even when it was forced, he left you alone.

Though you wouldn’t have missed Merle one bit, you watched Daryl take the news of his desertion when the cop- Rick- told him what had happened on the supply run. While you of course expected fury from Daryl, you hadn’t expected such emotion to fly out of him. He was a wrecking ball of threats and fists with tears running down his dirty cheeks. It was sad.

He must have seen the pity in your face then. When you called to him, tried to calm him down and move him away from Shane, he’d shoved you. “Get lost, girl.”

Needless to say, the men in this group were difficult. But at least the others were in the group. Daryl was on the outskirts of it and without his brother, it would be too easy for him to get thrust out. While you didn’t want that, you knew it was also vital for the survival of the group for him to stay. You had a feeling he wasn’t as impenetrable as the armor he wore.

You were worried about Daryl. You were also worried about Glenn and T-Dog, and Rick- Lori and Carl included. And as you sat there before the fire, you wondered what the hell would happen if Merle returned.

That was when you heard Amy scream. You didn’t recognize the sound at first, it was so sudden and so loud. It was a cry of anguish and fear. One that begged for help.

After that, it was chaos.

You turned over your shoulder, watching Amy and her assailant, even pondering for a split second who had snuck into the camp. What stranger would go after a girl just trying to go to the bathroom. But of course, it wasn’t a who. It was a what.

“Get behind me!” Shane roared.

You knew there wasn’t time. Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed the unfamiliar hunting knife you had with you and unsheathed it. You stepped over the log you’d been sitting on, away from the fire, but also further away from Shane and the safety of his gun, towards one of the geeks. It wasn’t just ugly and rank and dead, it was terrifying. The look of it, the smell of it made your stomach sink so far, it felt like it’d fell out of your body.

It snarled and gnashed its mouth at you while its thin, wiry fingers reached for you, but all the while, you focused on its hair. It was the same in death as it was in life- long locks of protein that couldn’t hurt you. Harmless. So you aimed your knife there.

In the brain, in the brain, it has to be in the brain, don’t you know anything-

The thing stopped once your knife sunk into its skull. Its arms dropped to its hollow sides and its lifeless eyes looked at you, long enough to send a shudder through you before it dropped to the ground, taking your one and only weapon with it.

“Get up here! Come to the RV!” you heard.

There were more screams, the thunk of childhood baseball bats slamming into hard skulls, the echoing sound of gunshots. Closer to you, though, and more urgently, there was deep guttural snarling, groaning and gurgling- the sound of the dead coming for you.

Shane had brought the children to the RV, safe, their backs leaning against the cold metal. Lori and Carol were there, Jim was at the treeline with his bat, Andrea on the ground with- with Amy. Amy’s body. You were alone. In the middle of the chaos, too far from any other living humans to take any aid.

“(Y/N)! Get up here! Jim!” Shane’s voice was hoarse.

You dove for your knife, yanking it out of the walker’s head with a squelch. You could only manage three or four steps up the hill before another undead was upon you. It was too close, its long nails a hair’s breadth away from your bare skin and its decaying teeth lunging closer with every stride. Again, you had to gather all your strength, grip your knife tight and focus- be calm enough to aim for the enemy’s brain. You had one chance, or you’d turn into one of them.

Carl would have to see it, Sophia, Lori. Daryl.

You grunted with the effort and the tip of the knife hit home and sunk into the geek’s head. This time you were able to free your knife before the thing fell to the ground. You scanned the land in front of you, looking for more threats. There were so many bodies on the ground. Bodies of people from your group, people that you’d gotten to know. They were lying still now. Leaking onto the dirt.

Then an arm wrapped around your middle and dragged you uphill. You screamed and thrashed, but whatever had you was strong.

“It’s me,” his voice rasped in your ear.

It immediately calmed you. You held onto Daryl’s arm as if it were a buoy saving you from drowning in gray, storming waves of a murderous ocean. He led you to the others near the van and deposited you there before letting go of you.

He was back. You saw Rick, T-Dog and Glenn, all in various states of emotional disrepair, but Daryl just looked around, calmly taking in the carnage.

“Daryl,” you said to him, “you okay?”

“Whaddah you think?” he snarled. “Ya see mah brother anywhere? Huh?”

So the moment was short lived. You ignored whatever he said next, running your hand along the outside of the RV, using it as a crutch as you moved to check on Carol and Sophia, then on Lori. You didn’t have it in you to survey much more than that. You trembled from the inside out and watched Rick hug his little boy as tears streamed down his face.

At least they were back.

It was somewhat painstakingly decided that you would all save the cleanup for tomorrow morning. The survivors had vans or tents to escape into. To leave the dead outside. Except for Andrea. One look at her- that was all you could handle- and you knew she wasn’t going to leave her sister any time soon.

You fell to your knees, jeans sinking into the soft dirt and stared into the flames of the campfire that was still burning strong. It was only then you found the hunting knife still in your tight grip, crusted over with brown, lumpy goo. At that point in the night, you couldn’t understand exactly what the remains were and for that, you were grateful. The bit of blade still showing reflected in the light coming from the pit, shades of orange and red glowing between your fingers.

Shane crouched beside you and though his landing was silent and agile, you jumped.

“S’alright,” he said, taking the weapon out of your scrunched hand. “Lemme clean it.”

“I can clean it,” Daryl grumbled from above, snatching the knife from Shane. “S’mine anyway.”

Shane let it happen, concentrating on you. He carefully set a hand on your shoulder. “Ya did good,” he said.

“You too,” you answered, like a little league pitcher on the losing team.

He stood and put his hands on his hips. “Try ta get some rest,” he said from the air.

You nodded.

Only when Shane was gone, did Daryl move closer to you. He sat on the ground and leaned back against the log the group had been using as dinner seats less than an hour ago. He sat back for a while, leaving you to watch the flames die down as he worked one of his rags into the crevices of the hunting knife. Slowly, you heard the others of the group- those living- say goodnight to each other and slide into their respective dwellings for what was left of the evening.

Distantly, though he sat just beside you, you heard Daryl speak. “S’right bout one thing.”

“Hm?”

“Ya did good. I saw ya when we were runnin’ up the hill. Doin’ what I told ya to do.”

You turned to him, but he wasn’t looking at you. Your feet stung under you, asleep after kneeling on them for so long, as you moved to sit on your bottom next to Daryl. He turned the cleaned knife in his hand before passing it you, handle out.

You shook your head. “It’s yours.”

He plopped it on your lap. “S’yours now. I gave it to ya. You’ll need it.”

You didn’t want to need it. He knew that too. All the same, it was a good thing he’d left it with you when he went to Atlanta. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting next to him right now. Speaking to him. Feeling the heat that didn’t just emit from the fire, but from him by your side as well.

“Thank you,” you said, sliding the knife back into its sheath and into your pocket, where you hoped it would stay, unneeded for a long time. Or at least for the rest of the night.

You turned to him, but again, he wasn’t looking at you. He rarely did. But you knew he was still there, still with you by the way his head tilted towards you. Like he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. As if you were a deer in the forest, ready to bolt away from him at any moment.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find Merle.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah right. You hate Merle.”

“Hate is a strong word,” you said.

He chuckled- a grim, gruff sound deep in his chest.

You watched him, feeling free to do so since he so rarely looked you in the eye. He was biting the inside of his lip over and over and picking at his fingernails.

You waited.

He peeked at you, inhaling deep. “Didn’ mean ta snap atcha. Earlier.”

When he yelled, you thought. By the RV, after he’d pulled you to safety.

You nodded. “S’alright. It’s been a tough day all around.”

Humming in agreement, he turned back to the fire. You two were square now. But you also hoped he knew that if he snapped at you like that again, you wouldn’t be so quick to forgive.

There was a flapping from above that shook the leaves in the trees. It was a soft, peaceful sound of nature, but after this night, in this new world, it startled you to your core.

“Just a bird,” Daryl said.

You sucked in a breath that made your lungs quake in your chest. “I’m sick of being so scared all the damn time,” you mumbled, tipping your head forward, holding your face in your hands. Things had only been like this for two months? Three? And you were already exhausted, tired of it all. How much longer could you take? Or, how much longer would it take for you to just-

Daryl stood. “Come on,” he said. He waved toward his tent. “Gotta getcha away from this damn bloodbath ‘er you’ll never calm down.”

You violently shook your head. “I can’t- I don’t wanna be alone-”

He was already walking toward the tent he shared with Merle. “Yer stayin’ with me. So I know where ya are.”

Your system went from fight or flight to frozen. He- Daryl- wanted you- where? After every shove and snap and swear towards you, now he wanted you to come with him? To be in his space? Overnight?

You stared at him. He tossed his crossbow into his tent, lifting the flap and heading inside when he turned back and saw you still on the ground in front of the fire.

“Or do ya wanna stay out here alone?”

“No.”

“Then get off yer ass.”

You scrambled to your feet and scurried to the tent’s flap. You felt like a scolded child, like your dignity had been left in the dirt, but you didn’t care. After the walker attack, you couldn’t be alone and you had been trusting Daryl with your life for weeks now, not that you’d ever tell anyone that. You felt the safest when you were with him. Tonight you needed that. Especially tonight.

“Ya can take that side,” Daryl mumbled, pointing.

The tent was small. Big enough to stand up in, but not very wide. There were two sleeping bags strewn out close to each other with a lumpy pillow on each. He tossed an extra blanket onto the side he told you to take. It was the one with the crossbow at its foot. And you recognized his cut off flannel shoved into the duffle beside it.

“I can’t take your bed.”

“Ain’t a bed,” he said, spreading the other sleeping bag open flat and sitting on it.

“Well, I can’t take your bag.”

“Would you rather stick your face in Merle’s pillow all night?”

You grimaced, thinking of the monster of a man and what he’d probably done to that innocent pillow.

“Thought not,” Daryl said. He grumbled it, but you heard the smirk in his voice.

“The definition of ‘pick your poison’,” you said, crouching to sit on the soft sleeping bag.

“Girl-” Daryl said, swatting at you as he rolled over, putting his back to you.

You swung back, smacking his shoulder. “I was kidding.”

In answer, he gave another blind swat, making you giggle.

You laid back into the double layer of sleeping bag, enjoying the way it was cool to the touch underneath you. The pillow, though thin, felt nice when you situated it under your head the way you liked it. Everything around you smelled like him- gas, grease, cigarettes- yes, but something else too. It wasn’t a bad smell, just a natural one. Just Daryl.

You were laying on your side, facing him. You watched him sink into the darkness as you spun the dial on the lantern until it turned off. Dark, though it was, you could still see his form clearly. Not sleeping yet.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you said.

He grunted, flopping to lay on his back and folding one of his arms under his head. “Get some sleep.”

It was then you realized how small the tent really was. When he laid on his back, his leg could almost touch your knee as you curled up on your side. He was an enigma, alright, you thought. Couldn’t bear to look you in the eye, saved your life, snapped at you in front of everyone and now slept beside you like it was nothing.

You sighed, following suit and laying on your back too. “Don’t think I’m gonna be able to catch much of that,” you said.

His pillow rustled as he looked toward you. “What the hell happened there?” He took your hand from where it rested over your forehead and studied the angry red scrapes and purple bruising on your knuckles. “This happen tonight?”

“No,” you said, taking your hand from his grasp and tucking it under you, embarrassed. “Happened earlier.”

“How’d you bust it up like that?”

“I, um… I just hurt it. Against Ed’s face.”

Daryl gave a laughing hiss. “I saw his face. You did that?”

“Some of it. Shane did the rest.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“He had it comin’,” you said, barely finishing the last word and regretting saying anything at all. Ed may have deserved a few punches, hell, he deserved jail time. But what happened to him tonight- eaten alive, alone- you weren’t sure anyone deserved that. It made your stomach roll in your gut and you stung with shame.

“Fucking badass, girl,” Daryl said.

It was quiet in the dark for a long moment.

“M’not, Daryl. I’m just fucking scared.”

There was more rustling beside you as Daryl shimmied around on his sleeping bag.

“Turn over. That way,” he said.

You did as he told you, laying on your side with your back to him. His body moved up against yours, his heat blooming on your shoulders, bum, and the backs of your legs. A little too forcefully, he lifted your head to slide his arm underneath and cradle you close.

“Ain’t nothin’ gettin’ in this tent tonight. I gotch’yer back. You can handle your front.”

You nodded, feeling tears gather in your eyes. Your cheeks were hot, as though they were on fire as you cried, finally letting out the emotion of the evening. The death, the kills, the fear, and the relief all ran down your face and into your shirt or onto Daryl’s pillow or his arm supporting your head. As your breath caught, he reached around you with his free arm, hugging you close and rubbing his thumb on the skin of your injured hand. You grasped him hard. You needed to.

Before this night, you weren’t sure what you thought of the younger Dixon brother. He was rough and nasty and you wondered just how much he took after Merle. Before this moment, you thought he’d run for the hills if you ever touched him with one single finger, nevermind your whole body- your whole being like you were now. But he was there, still with you and unbothered. Safe.

“Sleep,” he mumbled.

You nodded, squeezing his hand again before letting it go and allowing your body to relax against his. And eventually, in his arms, listening to his steady breath, you slept.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #Daryl dixon twd #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #the walking dead

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artofchoisan · 27 days ago

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RIDE OR DIE WITH ME COWBOY

Cowboy!San x Lost!Reader

The plot: A girl lost on a barren road in the desert of Mexico city and a man approaching her to help. Too cliche? Think again.

TW: DOM!San!, Rough cock riding, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Spanking, Mockery, Teasing.

Words: 4.2k words

► ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Traveling all across the world with your eyes gazing across the wonders of nature all around and the myriad of flavors and adventure had always been a gift you’ve wanted to own, yet who would know that it would turn out to be the apple that had gotten Adam and Eve to be thrown out of heaven.

“Get a license they said, it will be fun they said.” You grumble and angrily kick the side of your car, broken down in the middle of nowhere, "I should’ve just stayed curious,” you mutter. “Now here I am, stranded."

The road stretches out, barren and lifeless, for kilometers under the scorching Mexican sun. This is one of the most dangerous countries you promised yourself you'd never visit, given the high risk of mafia activity. Now, anxiety and fear grip you, making you feel like bait on a hook.

Going to Mexico was for the sole reason of visiting one of your sick relatives there and you took the opportunity of making the rounds of many of the restaurants and having a feast of getting a taste of the delicacies there, it was worth it but right now the fear that had you in a chokehold was getting the best of you.

One could mistake you for an old trucker as how the curses flew out of your mouth like a train, “My dad would be so pissed well let’s hope he never had to find my body ugh.”

Since heat reigned across the place, you’ve opted for some light clothing, jeans short and a tank top that showed your cleavage which God had been quite generous with you which you knew you’ve got nothing to complain as you bend down looking for the cause of all this mess as you sigh, “I know nothing of cars.”

Frustration and annoyance etched into your features as you wiped off the sweat off your forehead, “If this heat doesn’t end me then this heat will surely do and damn those heels.” Kicking out your heels off your feet away as your gaze went back into glaring at the car as if it would magically apologize for the chaos and betrayal you were facing because of it, “Come on Mr Car, please do work I don’t want to die here.”

Shaking your head and cursing at the heavens, you caught something in the corner of your eye, the silhouette of a person, turning your head to face it, you felt your heart drop blood to drain off your face.

“What the fuck.” Whispering under your breath as you saw the tall and broad shouldered frame of a man coming towards you giving off the western cowboy vibe a little bit too good but it wasn’t time to be in awe as you were in the middle of a barren road with that suspicious man coming towards you.

You back away slightly, your gaze never leaving him in case you need to make a run for it, good thing you had thrown off your heels, you can run better.

As he was coming closer, you took in his look even better and your breathing hitched.

Was it the scorching sun that caused you to be feeling such a heat or was it the way the man coming towards you wore a black cowboy hat, head tilted down yet you could see there was a scarf that covered his face, already a red flag.

The closer he was reaching to you, the more detailed his appearance became.

His muscular frame was partially covered by a black jacket with fringes that swayed with his movements. Studs lined the jacket, which barely hid his chest that moved at the way he was breathing barely hiding how toned and defined his muscles look, making you wonder what was the purpose of the jacket itself.

His abdominal muscles were toned and defined and was such a contrast, broad shoulders with a small waist only rendered for a wolf of lust and fear to fight within you unsure of the emotion you should feel.

The man came closer to you and stopped, your breath hitched as you saw the intensity of his feline eyes.

Backing away slightly in fear, body shaking yet your eyes not being able to unfocused from his toned muscles that were on display as you waited for him to say something and indeed he did, “Are you alright Miss?”

Once more, his voice was raspy and slightly deep, his head tilted to the side as he lifted something in his hand, “I usually come into this part of the road as it’s more quiet and I saw you but I ended up almost getting hit by a pair of flying heels.”

“I…I’m sorry..” Stuttering out as you gulp still not wanting to trust this man, “I was just being annoyed and I didn’t see you there.”

Vulnerability and fear darted across your aura to which he wasn’t blind, nor was he blind to your attire, glistening sweat drenched over your legs and exposed cleavage as you breathed. The man cleared his throat as he looked back into your eyes, “It’s alright Miss I’m here to help you. I knew of upcoming debris but never of upcoming heels”

The way he tried to lighten the atmosphere was yet to calm the uneasiness inside of you, ever since young you had been taught to never trust anyone blindly especially being brought by a single father who promised to keep you from every harm even if that means to kill.

A weak smile reached your lips which made him to smile, although you couldn’t see it through the scarf that covered for half of his face except for those eyes that hide an intensity like nothing else yet some warmth linger in them,

Eyes are the windows of the soul and those had nothing to hide.

“So let’s see what the issue is with this.” The man turned his attention to the car, bending down as he inspected the inside, getting a glimpse of his waist and how his arm flexed making his muscles bulge out as you gulped.

Starting timidly, “Somehow it just broke down and I’ve been stuck in here for an hour and I’m not even having any signal even here.” Relaxing slightly as you lean against your car, still keeping some distance with this stranger, “And this scorching heat is getting the best of me, didn’t know it would be that hot in Mexico.”

The man chuckled softly, the sound muffled by the scarf. “Mexico can be quite unforgiving this time of year,” he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. “But don’t worry, we’ll get you back on the road soon.”

You watched as he continued to inspect the car, his movements deliberate and confident. Despite your father’s warnings echoing in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of relief at the stranger’s presence. He seemed competent, and there was something in his demeanor that suggested he genuinely wanted to help.

As he worked, you took the opportunity to study him more closely. His eyes, the only visible part of his face, were a deep, intense brown, framed by thick lashes. They conveyed a mix of focus and curiosity, occasionally flickering up to meet your gaze. There was a subtle kindness in them that put you a bit more at ease.

“Do you know a lot about cars?” you asked, trying to make conversation and distract yourself from the lingering unease.

He glanced up, his eyes crinkling at the corners as if he were smiling beneath the scarf. “You could say that. Grew up fixing things, so cars became second nature.” He straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag he pulled from his back pocket. “Looks like your radiator overheated. We’ll need to let it cool down before we do anything else.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude. “Thank you for stopping to help. I didn’t know what I was going to do out here.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assured you. “I couldn’t just leave someone stranded in this heat.” He stepped back, giving you some space. “So, what brings you to this part of Mexico?”

“Just a road trip,” you said, shrugging lightly. “Needed a break from everything back home. a change of scenery might help clear my head.”

San nodded understandingly. “I get that. Sometimes, a change of scenery is exactly what you need.”

“I’m sorry but do you have any water?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if you were revealing a weakness.

He nodded thoughtfully. “I have some in my truck. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

As he walked towards his vehicle, you couldn’t help but watch him, your mind racing with a mixture of thoughts and emotions. San seemed genuine, but your father’s voice still echoed in your mind, reminding you to be cautious, you’ve found him faster than you expected.

More like, he had found you.

Trust was a luxury you couldn’t afford easily.

San returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water, which he handed to you. “Here, drink this. You need to stay hydrated.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, taking the bottle with trembling hands. You sipped the cool water and some water fell onto your cleavage, not caring as you were parched for hours under this heat and looking back at San from the corner of your eyes as you noticed his gaze flashed onto your chest then quickly darted your eyes away.

“Oops,” you murmured, glancing up at San with a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that.”

San chuckled softly, his eyes flickering down for a brief moment before meeting yours again. “No worries. It’s hot out here, water doesn’t always go where you want it to.”

Embarrassed, you looked down shyly, your cheeks warming. “I was really thirsty,” you admitted softly, your gaze lingering briefly on his toned stomach before you looked back into his eyes, “Thank you for the help with my car, I really want to thank you for helping me out.”

San chuckled, “It’s alright I’m just being a good samaritan here.”

“No please.” Stopping him with your voice as you look down shyly, “Please let me thank you. How about a treat?” Your own voice turned sultry as you pressed yourself against his bare chest as his eyes widened, “You truly deserve a reward for this all.”

“I’m curious to know what kind of reward that would be.” He blinked slowly, eyes still fixated on yours as he felt your hesitation but the hunger in your gaze? Even a blind man could see that.

Your fingers trailed onto his arms feeling the muscles on his biceps, “Will you let me?” Palming his biceps as your mouth fell open before looking back into his eyes, “The scorching heat always makes me act up.” Looking up at him with innocent eyes as a playful smirk danced onto your lips like snakes ready to slither around him.

Choi San, you could see how this man had the restraint of a monk, quite admirable for a man.

Yet you were not blind to the thirst in his gaze that you wanted to be the one to quench. San placed his hand on your cheek as he lifted your face up, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as you smiled at him, “You’re truly something but are you sure it’s what you want.”

“Anything for you Mr cowboy.”

That was all the consent he needed before he took the scarf off his face, your eyes widened as if you’vr had the air knocked off your lungs, as if he was seizing it not letting it go. You needed this man to mark you right here and there, sharp feline eyes that caused your knees to be weak, sharp jawline with lips begging to be kissed.

A breathy ‘fuck’ rushed past your lips and that was all you could say before he grin, a dimple appearing in the depth of his cheek, “This reward is truly unlike any other, I’ll take it.”

Finally breathing the distance, as San kiss you roughly and fuck, the neediness in your own soul made you feel like a whore but for such a man to whom your arms were wrapped his neck, you could throw your whole dignity out of the window, nothing mattered right now except for how he held your waist and how his lips were so sinful and rough against yours.

Your moans mixed with his grunts as breathy curses escaped your lips, he wasted no time in biting your lips ordering for entrance to which you once more obeyed, your own moans growing louder as his tongue felt like heaven inside of your mouth.

The way he bit your lips was hard, none caring whether blood was oozing out, you wanted only him right now and oxygen wasn’t of your main concern right now as your arms explored his back and gripped onto his jacket.

San was the first one to break the kiss as you both were breathing heavily but his mouth wasted no time in cascading down to your own neck, lips feeling sinful against yours as you felt him chuckle, “How do you want it? How would you like for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, please let me ride you.”

“I’ll take that reward.” With that, you were pushed away from the car as you pushed San inside the car, his back hitting the seat as you smirked and got on top of him.

“I’ll ride you to tears, cowboy.”

With that your mouth was what found his neck first, wanting to engrave your bite into his skin as your nails scratch onto his chest as he groaned while his hand found the hem of your shirt and you smiled at him, “Since you wanted to see them that bad.”

You removed off your shirt along with your bra, letting your naked breast to be in full view as you trailed your fingers on them while San take a deep breath looking at your breast before reaching a hand and groping them, your head thrown back with moans rushing past your lips, “Feels so good.”

Quickly straddling onto him as you moan more, his other hand played with your nipple as you whine out more, face lost in pleasure as you rub yourself against his crotch, string of the word ‘fuck’ and ‘feels good’ was what came out your mouth as he praised your breast. “They’re so big and pretty.”

His slender fingers rubbed through them and pinched, eliciting moans from you, “God, you’re so good.”

Your nipples and breast were sure to be red and purplish with how his fingers and hand were abusing them but the pleasure made you care for nothing else. Then he pulled his upper body up as you unintentionally gulped with how close he got to your face, that same dangerous smirk burst onto his lips, “I wonder how they taste now.”

Lowering his head down, as his mouth takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

His gaze looked up at you, mockingly at how you twitched and moaned at his every touch as he tongue swirled around it, sucking on it and biting it while pulling it slightly. San was such a wild teasing beast.

Opening your mouth to say something but once more you’ve got the air knocked out of your lungs as he blew some air onto your nipple, “Please…” Whining wasn’t one of your trait but instead of you holding the strings, you became his puppet into his hands as he darted out his tongue to lick slowly onto your nipples, “You’re..making me go crazy.”

Once more his taunting chuckle was heard, “Princess…” He began, “You’re already losing yourself on my tongue..” His whisper growing closer to your ear, “Are you sure you can take my cock?”

You were shaking and breathing heavily too bad to even reply to him, the pleasure coursing through your veins felt too good as he whispered once more, “Let me play with you a little more before that. I will make you cum three times, so better behave like a good girl and I want you to orgasm by rubbing yourself on me.”

“Pl..please— uh ah, ‘s too s-sensitive.”

Your own words betrayed your actions as you began to rub yourself against his clothed crotch, already feeling how big his bulge was as your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, your hand reached down to touch him but he grab onto your hand, amusement swirl into his stare, “Be a good girl and obey but let me make it easier for you.”

He worked onto the buttons of your shorts as he pulled them down slightly to reveal how damp your underwear already got, “Now you can hump.”

His words lead you into a trance as you obeyed, head thrown back with your hand resting onto his broad shoulders as you rubbed yourself and as time goes, you gasped out and shameless rub yourself against his crotch to chase your highs, “Fuck… fuck oh fuck… so good.”

Time seems to be lost for you, as it felt like hours how you came with only mere minutes, yet he was still hard. Your underwear is already messy from the stain of your own orgasm but his words resonate in your mind, he will make you go to orgasms two more times.

“You can now ride me princess.”

“What..” You breath out, he truly had fucked you dumb.

His dimple appeared once more, his fingers reached to your underwear as he just ripped it, “Sit on me princess, show me how good you’re at riding.”

The cockiness that drip from his tone made you even more aroused yet you completely almost forgot what lead you to be such a needy whore to be begging for this man’s cock like that, “Take your time, I don’t want you to get hurt although it seem you will be enjoying getting bruised up.”

Audacity danced like shadows into your gaze, as your fingers trailed his sharp jawline, “Don’t worry handsome, we will see who will have the last words.” Already unbuckling his belt, pulling down the zipper and pushing down his pants along with his boxer as you watched his cock being released out from its restraint.

And, fuck.

Choi San was exactly to your liking, your gaze never leaving how hard he was right now, the veins were protruding and the tip already was leaking from pre-cum, seem like the way you were humping against as if you were in heat indeed had an effect on him, his tip was raging red and for someone who wasn’t a fan of sucking, you would’ve broken all the rules just for your mouth and tongue to get a taste of this man’s cock.

“God, you’re making me act so bad.” You moan out, reaching your fingers down to touch yourself but he stops you, you watched him as he wrapped his hand around his cock as he lazily pumped it watching how your naked breast moved.

Seeing where his gaze was at, you touched your breast and moaned out pinching your own nipple as you mewled out, pressing them together as you cursed as you looked back at him as he gripped hard on his cock, “Do you enjoy the show? Well let’s not waste any time then.”

Moving slightly more on top of him, liming up yourself closer to his cock, lining it against your entrance. Moving up before, you felt the tip of his cock to slide inside of you and this already got you to want to act feral, yet you calmed yourself down and rested on his pelvis and moved your hips in slow circles as your own breathing grew heavy.

“What?” Whining out as he grabbed your ass.

“Do it properly princess, you promised me a good show right?”

The cockiness in his sinful voice felt like heaven on this earth, raising your hips slightly before you sank yourself onto his cock and cursed out, he was big, way bigger than you expected or you were just too small for him.

Looking back at him, pleased at how pleasure was written all over his face, mouth opened slightly as he looked up at you, “You’re bigger…than I expected.”

“Come on baby, I’m sure you can do it.”

His praises were all you needed as well as how his lips parted and breathy grunts and groans was all you could hear for him, making the hunger inside of you to get even bigger.

”Let’s see what you got.” With that you wasted no time, placing your hand onto his shoulders, nails digging his skin as you moved up, feeling how perfectly his cock was sliding into of you, you couldn’t even fathom to tease him betrayed by your own lust as you slammed down hard onto him with a loud fuck from the both of you.

Wanting to be more in control and wanting to chase your own highs especially how his hand fondled onto your breast, you increase your own pace and the feeling of his cock inside of you made you to bounce even more onto him, arching your back as you moved even wildly as he cursed out, “F-fuck princess.. God you’re—fuck, so f-fast. Want to slow d-down?”

Once more, you’ve moved up before slamming down on his moaning out and this time chuckling, “You can take it.”

San’s head falling back against the seat as you smile, “I think…I love this.. Having you like this.” Moving even more, “I can touch you all I want to cowboy.” You can feel his hand gripping tighter on your ass, “You’re driving me too wild.”

“Fuck I’m so near.” San cursed out as you giggled before slowing down as he cursed more before his hand spanked your ass hard at your teasing as you giggle more before moving even more slowly and before he could say anything else, you slammed yourself hard into him more and picking up your space, up and down harder on his cock.

“I’ll be the one to decide when you can come.” San lost it when your hips rolled even more sensually around him, your nails creating moon crescent mark into his skin, your thighs sticking to his skin, your both body drenched in sweat at how wild you’ve been, running a ran through your hair as you moaned out, “You cock feel so good inside of me, y-you want to come now.”

Fingers once more tracing across his neck and jawline as you movement never stop, he had been so lost into the pleasure and how your movement were that he didn’t even thrust, your brush off the hair that stick to his forehead as you slammed once more into him, “You…are allowed to come now.”

With one last slam to your core as you reach your own climax, you remove yourself from him as white strings of cum stains the inside of your car.

Exhaustion took a toll on your body as you almost fell on him but he was the one who dragged you down as you both came down from your high with ragged breathing escaping the both of you, your hand rested onto his bare chest with your naked body shaking and pressed up against him.

San ran a hand through his hair as he smiled, “Fuck that was wild.”

“Hope your reward was worth it.” Breathing out completely tired.

His voice came out as warm, “It was totally worth it.”

For a while, you both enjoyed the silence, waiting for your breath to become more steady, “I’ll get myself cleaned up at a nearby hotel then I will be leaving except if you want to take more from your reward.”

“You’re truly something else.” San laughed, yet you could feel how jovial he looked, “But I lived nearby so you can get clean up there and maybe some food if you haven’t eaten yet, they serve the best tacos here, maybe that will make you want to come here often.”

Chuckling as you get off his chest smiling as you slip on your shirt, “Well if I can get good food and a good dick, I’ll surely be coming here more often.”

“Oh.” San realized something, “With all what had happened I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Choi San.”

You knew of his name already, that’s what you were here for afterall.

“Nice to meet you Choi San.” Replying with a giggle as you help him with his clothes as you introduce yourself, “I’ll follow you from my car, so lead the way San.”

As you watched him getting into his own truck, you smile turned into a frown as you picked up your phone and dial someone’s number and the voice of a man greeted you through the phone, “Yes, I’ve found him, no worries, they’ll have to go through me if they even think of laying their hand on... him.”

#ateez smut #ateez au #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #choi san #san scenarios #san imagines #ateez x y/n #kpop smut #kpop imagines

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n0tamused · 2 months ago

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Could I request Aventurine's s/o just making and giving him a bunch of random gifts? From simple things like cupcakes and plushies to more lavish gifts like a multi-purpose gun and tricked-out sunglasses.

A/n: A little drabble for this idea, hope you enjoy

Contents: Aventurine x GN!Reader, fluff, not proofread

“My, my, what do we have here? And who are you bringing this to?” Aventurine inquired after he glimpsed the little pile of gifts stacked on the coffee table. There are boxes wrapped in pretty and colorful papers and decorated with bows on top, and there are desert boxes next to them, ones he could see the contents of due to their translucent lids.

You startled at the sudden voice, too immersed in wrapping up another gift in pretty green wrapping paper. Turning your head to look at him you beam with mirth, eyes gleaming as you notice the genuine confusion in his eyes. Had you not known him as best as you do, you would have thought him dull-witted for not already noticing these were for no one else but him.

“Take a wild guess, why don’t you? I might give you a reward if you get it right on the first try” you tell him, feeling rather proud of yourself with the assortment of gifts you managed to snag on the planet that was new to you both. There were local delicacies and deserts in the boxes on the table, but also wrapped goodies that would be of daily use to him,

Aventurine feigns skepticism, although he now recognizes his momentary error and chuckles for not already having guessed. “Might it be.. hmm, hmm..” he hums and coos, dragging the moment out as he prowls around your sitting form and trying to get a glimpse at what you were wrapping up, but the box was already enveloped in the pretty glimmering paper. “Could it be me?” he asks at long last, tilting his head down at you when you look up to meet his colorful gaze.

Judging by your smile spreading further, crinkling the corners of your eyes, he was right on the dot.

“Took you long enough, but you got it right. Would you like to open these now.. or perhaps when we’re back home? I thought I had more time to hide these away - I wanted it to be a surprise, but alas, you always had such amazing timing” you tell him, clearly in jest.

“What would you prefer? I don’t wish to trash your plans any further... I may have caught you off guard with this, but now you have me rather speechless, I must praise you for that” he responded, your smile spreading to his lips like a disease as he lets his eyes wander over to the other presents once more. You rise from your seat, leaving behind the box and go to meet him in an embrace. He accepts it, a bit stiff at first but it is like your warmth melts that unease away from him, and soon after he is wrapping his arms around you. “Missed me already?” he coos at you, his tone now mellow as if his usual tone would hurt you at such close proximity.

“I have” you state simply, looking up at him as you pull away, melting into the view of the pretty blonde man. “And I’d rather show it all to you now. We have time until this ship lands again, might as well indulge in some sweets, right?”

His gloved fingers brush against the line of your jaw, slightly tilting your head to the side and he mirrors the motion. “That is right.. I am desperately craving something sweet right now. You mentioning it is only making me more hungry for a taste” he says, and you notice the slight flush that comes over his cheeks. You beam at it, but it is him that leans in and catches your lips in a chaste kiss.

You chase his lips before he can fully part, finding yourself in a craving as well, in need of another kiss. It felt as if days had separated you until now and not just a few hours. You feel his huff against your skin, the corners of his mouth twisting upward. Once you pulled apart, you notice his grip on your arms, keeping you steady as your own hand keep him steady in return. He blinks at you, his eyes half lidded and full of warmth that was only reserved in quieter moments like these.

“Come.. let me show you what I’ve gotten for you”

He obliges, your voice snapping him out of his fuzzy thoughts. He doubts he’ll ever get used to your kindness and gifts, they’re too sweet to him, and he doubts he has earned them, but he is not the one to decline your invitations or offers - that’d be too mean.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine fluff #aventurine imagine #aventurine x gn reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail fluff #x reader

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wh0re43van · 10 months ago

Text

Jealousy- (Dom!Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Summary: You and Peter are having a nice day at the river when you run into an old ‘friend’.

(This was a request, but I lost it. I believe the request said something like: “Dom Peter Maximoff. That’s the request”)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, throat fucking, slight choking, gagging

A/N- y’all I’ve been having such bad writers block and I just started college again so please bare with me 😭🙏🏻

My body buzzes with warmth as the mid summer sun beams down on me. In the distance there’s a group of young teens giggling and splashing as they take turns jumping off the rope swing into the river, but their joys are muffled by the newest Pink Floyd cassette playing in Peters boombox.

Suddenly, I feel a cold blob of something plop onto my stomach. I gasp, quickly sitting up in confusion. My questions are answered when I see a chuckling Peter standing above me with two overfilled ice cream cones in his hands.

“Oops,” he grins as he sits down on his towel beside me, placing the cone in my hand. Peters solution to the mess on my stomach is to lean down and lick it off. I laugh, attempting to shove him away from me.

“Ew Peter,” I chuckle as he licks up the last of the ice cream.

“Tastes like tanning oil,” he smiles while licking his lips. I just shake my head, looking at my dork of a boyfriend with pure adoration.

The soft breeze blows Peters silver locks around on his head as he lap at his sweet treat. The melted desert drips from his hand onto his toned chest and blue swim trunks.

“Babe, you’re a mess,” I laugh as I try to eat mine as neatly as possible, but the frozen delicacy is no match for the summer heat.

“Hm, guess we’ll just have to clean off in the river,” he smirks as he finishes the last of his cone. With a fwip he’s in the water.

“Hey!” I holler after him with a giggle. I set the ice cream down before standing to my feet.

“Come on y/n you’re so Slow!” Peter shouts over the sound of the rushing water. I wipe my sticky hands on his towel then grab a scrunchie to pull my hair back before our swim.

“Y/n?” I hear an unfamiliar voice behind me. I turn with a puzzled look, my hands behind my head as I braid my hair back. I’m shocked by who I see.

“Oh my god! Elijah? I don’t believe it,” I say in disbelief, staring at the boy I haven’t seen since freshman year. He smiles, seemingly pleased that I take the time glance over his now muscular body.

“I look pretty good, huh?” He laughs confidently. His red swim trunks don’t leave much to the imagination as he does a spin, allowing me to see how mature he’s become. He flexes his dark umber toned arms as he holds his head up with pride. The sun shines down on his hair, each tight raven curl lays neatly beside the other as they hang down in his face.

I gulp, feeling a bit guilty for staring.

“Uh, yeah! You look great, dude,” I laugh awkwardly as I look around for Peter.

“You here by yourself? That’s awfully dang-“ Elijah begins but is quickly cut off by Peter who seems to appear out of thin air.

“Nope,” my boyfriend says with a smug grin as he flings his arm around me, much tighter than normal. If I didn’t know better, id think Peter was jealous. I’ve been dating Peter for almost six years and I’ve never seen him so much as look twice at any guy who flirts with me.

‘Let ‘em,’ he always scoffs. ‘I’m the one who gets to undress you,’ Peter knows that no other guy has a chance with me; he actually finds it quite amusing to see guys get horribly rejected by me. Peter is a very confident guy, but right now his jaw is tensed out of annoyance and he’s gripping onto me as if Elijah might tear me from his grasp at any moment.

“Peter, long time no see,” Elija smiles at an unamused Peter.

“Yeah, last time I saw you, you were trying to sabotage my relationship with Y/n,” Peter says flatly, shrugging his shoulders with his lips pulled into a sarcastic grin.

‘Awkward,’ I cringe internally as I remember the last week we spent with Elijah before he moved away.

The two boys and I were best friends since 6th grade, so when Peter decided he wanted to confess his feeling for me, he spoke about it to Elijah- the best friend who he wasn’t in love with. Elijah came to me the next day, telling me that Peter was going to ask me out as a prank, so I should say no- which made me extremely angry since I’d had a crush on Peter for years.

Long story short: Peter was not going to ask me out as a joke, he was completely serious and Elijah almost ruined his chance with me because he wanted me to himself.

“Oh come on peter, that was like four years ago,” Elijah scoffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s right. That was teenage drama that I’ve long forgotten about, however this seems to still be a sore spot for Peter who is now scowling at our old friend.

“whatever man just get lost,” Peters voice drops, his tight grip on my shoulder never faltering as his eyes shoot bullets into Elijah. This is a side to peter that I rarely see, and I cant help but notice the butterflies that are starting to flutter in my stomach.

“Woah quicksilver takes an awfully long time to get over his hurt feelings,” Elijah laughs as he keeps his confident stature. Peters eyes narrow and his face becomes flushed with anger. I open my mouth in attempt so deescalate the situation, but I don’t have time. “y/n is over it,” he smirks, winking in my direction. Before I can defend myself, the wind is knocked out of me.

With a fwip, we’re in the shower cabin. The hot damp air in invades my lungs as I try to catch my breath.

“Peter!” I groan as I pull myself out of his arms. He knows I hate when he does that. “What the hell has gotten into you? I’ve never seen you so-“ my complaint is cut short as Peter smashes his lips to mine. His hand grips the back of my head, keeping me as close to him as possible. His other hand trails up my back.

“You’re mine,” Peter growls against my lips as he backs me against the wall. My stomach drops at the possessive tone coming from my boyfriend. I wrap my arms around his neck and manage to pull my lips away from him enough to catch my breath.

“Of course Peter,” I pant as he trails wet kisses up my jawline and down my neck. I sigh in content, leaning my head to give him more access. I want to pull away, but I cant bring myself to do it.

“All of you,” he says in a low tone, his dominant eyes locking with mine as he removes my bikini top in one quick flash. I gasp as his mouth instantly goes to work on my breast.

“Peter not here! What if someone comes in? Or hears us!” I resist verbally but do very little to actually push him off. Instead, I entangle my fingers into his silver hair.

“Good,” is all he mumbles against my breast as he leaves dark hickies on the soft skin. I know this is wrong. I know we shouldn’t be doing this in such a public place, but I’ve never seen this look in Peters eyes before. It’s not often that he takes charge, and the way that he has me pinned against the wall leaves my knees weak in anticipation.

Peters mouth switches to my other breast as he uses his knees to spread my legs. His skilled fingers pull my bikini bottoms to the side and he immediately dips into my heat, moaning at how wet I already am.

“That bastard wishes he could see you like this,” Peter mumbles under his breath as he watches his finger slide in and out of me. I let out a small whimper, biting my lip to stifle the sound as much as possible.

With his other hand, he grabs my face squeezing my cheeks so hard that my lips pucker, before he leans down almost touching his nose to mine.

“I want to hear every sound that comes out of this pretty little mouth,” he growls lowly as he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Do you understand?” He pants as he stares in my eyes with an animalistic glint, his fingers still pumping into me.

“Y-yes,” I gulp, letting out a loud moan when his thumb brushes my clit.

“Atta Girl,” Peter smirks before he moves his hands to my thighs, picking me up so I can straddle him with my back against the wall.

After I wrap my legs around his waist, he begins to grind against my bare core. The friction sends a surge of pleasure through my body.

“What Are You waiting for?” I ask breathlessly as Peters eyes scan my body.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands lowly as his hand gently grips my throat. My heart flutters at my boyfriends unusual- and extremely hot- dominant demeaner

“I-I want you to fuck me,” I stutter as I stare down his arm into his dark eyes. The corner of his lips turn up into a smirk before he drops his swimming shorts.

Peter removes his hand from my throat to bring his fingers up to his mouth, wetting them before grazing over my heat. I tense at the contact, letting out a small whimper. My heart pounds in anticipation as he lines himself up with my entrance.

“I want him to hear,” peter growls before he buries himself inside of me in one swift thrust. I cry out at the sudden feeling of him filling me up. Peter moves hips slowly, allowing me to adjust. Soon enough, his hips are rocking against me in a steady motion as his fingers dig into the soft skin on my hips.

“fuck peter,” I whimper out as he grazes my gspot with every stroke. Everything about this situation- the risk of getting caught, peter completely dominating me, the way hes hitting right where I need him- has me more aroused than I’ve ever been.

“Louder,” Peter grunts, staring at me with stern eyes as he brings a thumb to my clit.

“Fuck Peter!” I let out a pathetic shriek as he begins to vibrate his thumb against my sensitive bud. I throw my head back, squeezing my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the immense pleasure flooding through my body.

“Much better,” peter chuckles as he speeds up his hips. Peter looks down at me, biting his bottom lip so hard that I fear he may draw blood. Small grunts and low groans mange to slip out as he pounds into me.

“Im so close baby please don’t stop,” I whine as my fingers grip his hair so tight that my knuckles turn white.

“Say my fucking name and cum for me,” he growls into my ear before biting on my neck, sucking hickies onto the sensitive skin. I cant think well enough to form a response as I clench around him, feeling pure euphoria flood my body.

“Fuck! Yes! Peter oh my god!” I moan loudly, I don’t even know what I’m saying. At this point, Peter has literally fucked me senseless. I’m putty in his hands for him to use in any way he’d like. I lay against the wall, Peter now solely holding me up as I attempt to collect myself. I open my eyes as he slowly pulls out of me, chuckling as he sets me down onto my shaky legs.

“Peter… I-“ I just stare at my boyfriend as my release starts to drip down my thigh. Peter smirks as he pumps his still rock hard cock, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Get down and open up baby,” he says gently with a kiss to my forehead as he pushes on my shoulder. I obey, meeting his gaze as I get to my knees. I know that I’m drunk off lust because any other time I would not have my bare ass so close to the floor of a public showering cabin but with the way Peter’s looking at me, the thought of resisting doesn’t even cross my mind.

With my chest still heaving a bit, I take his length into my hand, stroking it slowly before kitten licking the tip. Peter throws his head back with a grunt as I slide him into my mouth, my tongue tracing up the bottom of him. I wrap my arms around his thighs as I begin to move my head back and forth. Peter smirks, gently pushing some loose strands of hair out of my face.

“That’s it baby. You’re doing so good,” he hums as he begins to move his hips in rhythm to my face. Peter looks angelic as the sheen of sweat across his forehead glistens in the single beam of sun cutting through dimness of the cement room. His toned chest heaves as his dark eyes watch his cock violate my mouth, slipping deeper into my throat with each thrust. Tears begin to form in eyes as he slams into my throat, continuously slipping past my gag reflex

“I’m the only one who gets to use you like this,” Peter growls as his hands grip onto the back of my head. I do my best to nod and mumble a ‘mhm’ as drool begins to escape the corners of my mouth, dripping down my chest as he fucks my throat. My core still aches for him. I’ve had my release already, but the way that he’s speaking to me and using me is something far out of the ordinary for him- I cant get enough. I manage to pull away to gasp for breath as I begin to get light headed.

“Please,” I pant out hoarsely, tears and spit streaming down my face as I desperately kiss all over peters length between breaths. “Cum on my face baby please. Im yours. Please peter,” I beg breathlessly as I massage his balls. Peter lets out a whimper, seemingly more than excited to hear my pleads. His hand grabs onto his length, stroking himself closer to his climax. I sit back on my heels, opening my mouth, holding my tits- now covered in my own saliva from his ruthless face fucking- up, wanting nothing more than for him to cover me in his cum.

“God you’re so fucking sexy,” Peter groans as his hand moves in a blur along his length. He throws his head back and lets out a stream of profanities and groans as he shoots his hot seed allover my face and tits. “Jesus Christ,”’ Peter groans when he looks down to see the mess he’s made of me. I giggle, leaning forward, licking up his cock one last time to make sure I’ve gotten every drop. Peter watches me in awe as he attempts to catch his breath, grabbing my shoulders and gently pulling me to my feet.

“Do you feel better now?” I tease as I scoop some off his cum off my breast, bringing the salty liquid to my mouth. Peter groans at the sight.

“Much better,” he laughs as he reaches for his swim trunks. “You wouldn’t mind walking past Elijah like that would you?” he laughs as he grabs a paper towel by the sink.

“What? Half naked and covered in your cum?” I raise an eyebrow at him as he picks up my bikini top.

“Well, maybe put this on first,” he smirks, handing me the thin material. I laugh as he wipes me off so I can get dressed. The mood is back to its usual easy-going vibe and my calm and collected Peter has returned- but I can assure you that we will be revisiting this side of him quite often

Tags: @pretzel-bunnie @slvt4jamesmarch

#evan peters #evan peters smut #ahs cult #ahs hotel #jimmy darling smut #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs asylum #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #quicksilver smut #quicksilver #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff #tate langdon smut #tate langdon #kai anderson smut

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 months ago

Text

“Love you. You're the best.” - Fennec Fox! Female! Reader.

Pairing: Ghoap x fennec fox female reader

Content warning: fluff. Fennec fox hybrid female reader. Smut at the end.

Note: Got tired of seeing dog and cat hybrids yet no fox ones - Like c'mon guys it's THERE - Do you not see the potential-

Words: 1326

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers (And Template): @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: You boldly said it so loud, he could have sworn you said it louder on purpose, “Love you, you're the best.”

Ghost, who had been watching the playful exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity, was caught off guard by your sudden declaration.

His surprise and he paused. “What did you say?” he asked, his deep, velvety voice carrying a hint of scepticism.

You boldly said it so loud, he could have sworn you said it louder on purpose, “Love you, you're the best.”

Soap's eyes widened, and he stumbled over his own paws. “What did you just say?” he asked, his tone a mix of astonishment and confusion.

You said it even louder, your eyes sparkling with joy, “Love you, you're the best!” This time, it was clear as day, and the courtyard fell silent. Soap stared at you, his jaw hanging open in shock.

Kate and Price exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and something else—perhaps a flicker of hope that the darkness of your past hadn't completely stolen your capacity to form attachments.

Soap snuck extra snacks to you which he knew you liked, hoping to win your favour.

A gesture that, while small, spoke volumes of his desire to be closer to you. Treats like slow cooked chicken were greatly appreciated, especially after a long day of training.

Soap would often sit by your side, watching you devour them with delight, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened to your happy munching sounds.

You tried Wagyu once, a rare and exquisite delicacy. The tenderness of the beef, the way it practically melted in your mouth, the 'thank you' with each bite you took of the wagyu beef. As well as, 'this tastes so good.'

Ghost looked at you while you were eating the wagyu beef he gave you as a treat, not expecting you to like it THIS much.

Not as much as you showed him when he cooked it up for you. You looked up at Ghost, your feline eyes wide with pleasure. “This is heavenly,” you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction. The warmth of your smile seemed to light up the shadowed corners of his heart. He had never seen anyone appreciate his cooking quite like this.

Ghost's expression softened, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks. “I'm glad you like it,” he said gruffly, trying to maintain his usual composure but failing miserably.

His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of doubt or mockery, but found only sincerity.

The kitchen grew quiet once again, save for the occasional sizzle of the frying pan and the sound of your happy chewing.

“I lived in a desert. Anything you make for me will be eaten with gusto, as it should be.” You told him. “You could have given me a cicada, and I'd still eat it.”

Ghost was about to satisfy your “heat cycle” when Soap, finishing his cigarette, intrigued, asked, “What's happening here?”

You were on the king bed. Your muffled,” 'm tempted to grab my vibrator.” As you were about to leave for your bedroom in the basement, which consisted of a hanging round bed draped with black cloth.

Ghost's voice grew serious, his eyes locking onto yours, “Wait,” he said, his hand shooting out to gently grab your wrist. He pulled you back to face him, his gaze searching your eyes. “You can't just say something like that and walk away,” he said, his grip tightening slightly. “Do you mean it?”

Face first into his pecs as if god ordained it somehow, as if the lord had come down and said, “This fennec fox hybrid female reader shall know thee by the touch of her cheek to thy chest,” you nodded against him. “Yes,” you murmured, “I mean it.” The words were softer than a whisper, but the gravity of them was palpable in the room. You felt Ghost's body tense, his heart hammering against your ear. For a man who was often the epitome of stoicism, this was a revelation, a crack in the armour that you hadn't expected.

As you prepared to sleep on your hanging mattress, the house's tension grew as palpable as a sea fog. Aware your words had impacted the men, you pondered the atmosphere's shift. Then, descending footsteps reached your ears, your heart pounding from a blend of fear and anticipation.

Ghost's silhouette appeared in the doorway, his posture rigid and unyielding. “Ghost,” you whispered, noticing his eyes were as intense as a moonlit arctic night. “What is it?”

He took a step closer, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. “You said something, earlier.” His voice was a rumble of thunder, low and demanding. “Something important.”

You were wearing a nightie which left little to the imagination, the thin spaghetti straps on your shoulders the only barrier between the fabric and your bare skin. You squinted, half asleep, “I said a lot of things.” You mumble into your pillow, trying to play it cool despite the racing of your heart.

Ghost took another step, his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “You said you love us.”

You turned to face him fully, the gravity of the moment weighing on your heart. “I do,” you admitted, the words spilling out of you with surprising ease. “Both of you, in my own way.”

Ghost's hand paused on your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline. “And what way is that?” he asked, his voice softer now, the thunder replaced with a gentle rain.

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin. “In a way that's fierce and unconditional,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “In a way that makes me want to fight alongside you both, to keep you safe, to… to be a part of your lives.”

Soap, who had been quietly watching from the shadows, emerged into the dim light. He approached the bed, his eyes shimmering with something unreadable. “Is that right?” he asked, his voice gruff. His Scottish accent seemed to thicken in the tension-filled silence.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yes,” you said, your voice stronger now. “I love you both.”

Soap's expression softened, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a rare smile. He reached out to you, his rough hand taking yours in a gentle grip. “And we love you too, lass,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “In our own messed up way.”

Soap's eyes drifted to the vibrator underneath the layer of faux fur pillows filled with goose feathers.

He smirked, “Looks like we might have some competition.”

Ghost chuckled, the tension in his posture easing a fraction. “Looks like it,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I think we can manage.”

The three of you fell into a fervent embrace, a bond only forged through shared hellish ordeals. Ghost lifted you effortlessly as Soap drew your head to his for a kiss, a blend of tenderness and roughness. Their scents—Ghost's musky smoke and Soap's faint gunpowder—overwhelmed you, and you melded into their comforting warmth.

They laid you on the king-sized bed as Ghost hovered, eyes ablaze with desire mirroring yours. He seized your face, kissing you urgently with a passion built over years. His tongue explored your mouth as if new, while Soap's gentle hands roamed your body through your thin nightie, tenderly committing every curve to memory.

Their touch was like a delicate symphony playing across your skin, each caress a note resonating deep within your core.

The fabric of your nightie was peeled away, revealing your nakedness to the cool air, and their heated gazes.

Your breasts were swollen and sensitive, begging for attention, and Soap's mouth found its way to one, suckling gently, making you gasp against Ghost's insistent kiss.

This would continue on until morning. Where you are asleep in the middle of the two burly men who changed your life forever.

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