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siren-in-the-shadow · 12 days ago

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Twisted Fate: Cazador X Reader

Chapter 6

Mentions: She/Her, Slow burn Word Count: 3.4k

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Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Did you really expect the wizard to pull a cure out of his hat?” She gave a small shrug, playfully nudging his arm as her sarcasm lingered in the air. “Maybe he’ll surprise us later.”

Cazador scoffed, his pace unwavering. “I doubt it. His ‘friend’ in the distant village is probably another crackpot with an ‘ancient remedy.’” He glanced down over his shoulder, catching her playful nudge with a raised brow and a smirk. “I suppose we could try ‘charming’ him out of an answer.”

“Oh, please. You’re the last person I’d trust with charm,” she retorted, crossing her arms as they continued walking. “You’d probably scare the poor old man into a coma.” She said, laughing at her own joke.

“Charming as ever, Y/N,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes. “What’s your brilliant plan, then? Go ask the castle walls for answers?” Cazador’s voice was sharp, the usual mockery laced with a playful edge.

Y/N shot him a goofy grin. “Well, they have been helpful in the past. You should try listening to them sometime.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’ve always had an affinity for the impossible, haven’t you?” He paused, then added in a tone that was more pointed than teasing, “I don’t trust any wizard from a village who’s more popular than practical.”

Y/N’s chuckle was light, but she didn’t back down. “At least this time, we actually have something to go on. I’m feeling hopeful. Imagine that.”

He gave her a quick glance, his lips curling into something like amusement, but his eyes were hard, calculating. “Feeling hopeful won’t get us anywhere. And it certainly won’t help us find a solution.”

Y/N gave him a playful look raising her eyebrows. “I’ll take my chances.”

Cazador turned on her then, his usual smirk replaced by a serious, almost cold expression. “Enough games. When we return, we’re mapping out a proper plan—one that’s efficient and effective. You’ll stay out of trouble, and I’ll handle the details. Understood?”

Y/N met his gaze, something about his shift in demeanor piquing her curiosity. “Is that your way of saying you’re in charge again?” she teased.

“I never stopped being in charge,” he replied quickly, voice dropping to a tone that brokered no argument. “You might think you have a handle on things, but I won’t let you go rushing off to the next fool’s errand. We need a proper strategy.”

Y/N smiles, but the teasing edge in her tone softens. “Alright, big boy, take it easy,” she says, raising her hands in mock surrender. She pauses, taking a breath. “But I’ll warn you—I’m not letting you make all the decisions.”

Cazador’s expression tightens, his eyes narrowing at the nickname. “Big boy, huh?” His voice is laced with irritation, but there’s a flicker of something else behind his sharp gaze—something like curiosity.

“Damn, we really just gossiped all the way here, huh?” she jokes, standing beside Cazador as he opens the castle door. He hides a smile, stepping aside to let her through. “Follow me,” he says, gesturing toward the library.

As they stepped back into the castle, the cold, stone walls swallowed the sound of their footsteps. The air of the library greeted them again, familiar and almost comforting.

Cazador didn’t waste a moment, striding to the large table at the centre of the room and unrolling on of his manny maps with a practiced hand.

Y/N followed, eyes flicking to the map before, only now realizing how large his hands were. What an interesting sight.

“Alright,” she said, stretching slightly. “Let’s make this quick. You know I’m the better thief here. I know the routes. I can scout ahead and get us in and out of Baldur’s Gate without anyone noticing.” She paused, glancing at him. “Unless you have a different approach in mind?”

Cazador gave her a look, his brow lifting ever so slightly. “Better thief?” He chuckled darkly, but there was no humor in it. “You sweet idiot, you may have your skills, but I know how to navigate the lands, how to get information, and how to get to Baldur’s Gate without attracting the wrong attention.” He tapped a finger on the map, eyes focused.

“Details, details,” Y/N quipped, leaning back in her chair. “I’m just saying—less time in the wild, less chance of something going wrong.”

Cazador’s sharp eyes flicked down to meet hers, annoyance edging his features. “I know what you’re thinking, Y/N. But this isn’t some stealth mission we’re planning. We’re simply getting to Baldur’s Gate to see a wizard. No need to complicate it with your ‘wild plans.’ We’re taking the most direct route with the least amount of unnecessary exposure.”

She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand, cutting her off.

“No,” he said flatly, his voice commanding. “We’ll avoid the longer routes and the forests. They’ll slow us down. I’m planning a route with stops at inns and villages along the way—places where we can rest, gather supplies, and plan the next leg of the journey.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak, watching him as he traced a path along the map. He was already outlining the quickest route, the one that passed through small villages where they could stay the night.

“The inns will be a welcome break,” Cazador continued, his finger landing on a village about halfway to Baldur's Gate. “We won’t waste time camping in the woods. We’ll stay in proper beds, restock, and get information from the locals.”

She leaned forward, pointing at a different route. “But this path—if we take the western trail—it’s faster and it’ll have fewer people. We could move quicker and get to the goal faster.”

Cazador gave her an icy look, his tone sharp. “No. The western route is too risky. We’ll pass through isolated towns where help won’t be nearby if we need it. It’s not worth the gamble. We’ll follow this one, where there are plenty of villages along the way. We’ll arrive in Baldur’s Gate with plenty of time to meet with the wizard, and we won’t have to worry about unexpected delays.”

Y/N crossed her arms, giving him a teasing smile. “You really hate letting me have a say, don’t you?”

His lips tightened into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m letting you have a say,” he said flatly, “but it’s my plan. You’ll stick to it.”

Y/N sighed but held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But don’t be surprised if I point out when you’re wrong.”

Cazador’s face was unreadable as he rolled up the map, his gaze moving toward the door. “We’ll leave at first light. No time to waste.”

Y/N stood, stretching out her arms. “Fine, but I’m getting my rest while I can. After all, you’ll need someone sharp when we hit Baldur’s Gate.”

He gave her a short, sharp glance, but didn’t comment. “Go pack. No unnecessary delays, you better be ready I shouldn’t have to wake you. Tomorrow we leave early.”

Y/N hesitated, watching him as he paced around the library picking up a few essentials himself.

“Um, Cazador...” she began, a small, teasing smirk tugging at her lips. “I don’t really have any essentials. All my things are back at home... remember?”

Cazador’s sharp gaze flicked up to her, his expression unreadable for a moment before a sigh slipped past his lips. “Of course, little thief,” he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. “How typical. I’m not surprised, considering your... previous attempts.”

Before she could respond, he turned toward the door, calling for a servant. “Get some clothes for her. Essentials. The works. And dinner—prepare something decent.” His voice staying sharp as he gave his commands.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Wow…” Her voice trailed off as she took in his sudden shift, her mind racing with confusion and curiosity.

Cazador didn’t look back at her as he strode out, his voice sharp. “I’m handling it. You can shower and wait in your room until supper. We’ll leave in the morning. There’s no need to argue.”

Y/N stared at him, her eyes softening, amusement dancing at the corners of her lips. She didn’t respond immediately, taking in the contrast between his rigid control and the way he was clearly trying to manage everything for her. There was something oddly endearing about it.

Cazador suddenly stopped, his gaze snapping back to her, a cold edge creeping into his voice. “What?”

Y/N pauses, staring at him for a moment. She opens her mouth, then closes it again, the words caught somewhere between thought and silence. Finally, she softens and simply says nothing.

His sharp, cold gaze lingered on her, as if searching for the truth of her thoughts, before he turned away without a word.

Y/N walked down the hallway, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she made her way back to her room. A strange warmth settled in her chest, something unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome. She let the feeling linger for a moment before pushing it aside, not used to such things. She told herself that Cazador was selfish, that his concern for her safety was driven only by how it would affect him.

She hadn’t even had to mention being hungry. Cazador had known, almost as if he could sense it. The way he’d handled everything—without hesitation or the usual hint of frustration—was unexpected. It wasn’t the cold command or indifferent distance she was used to. He had actually considered her needs before she’d even voiced them.

“Oh, get a grip, Y/N!” she mentally scolded herself. Just because someone shows a little kindness doesn’t mean they actually care. Remember how many kids you’ve helped, how many you’ve been nice to? Fuck them kids. She laughed at her own joke, the sound a bit too loud in the silence.

She paused for a moment, just outside her door, and took a deep breath, letting the moment settle in her chest.

“Don’t get used to this,” she told herself quietly, as if trying to remind herself of the rules she had lived by for so long. Yet, even as the words left her mouth, she found herself smiling again, already looking forward to the comfort of a proper meal and a warm shower.

Y/N walked into her room, the soft smile still on her face. She quickly made her way to the bathroom, stripping off her travel-worn clothes and stepping into the shower. The warm water relaxed her, and she reached for the vanilla-scented soap Cazador’s servants had left. The sweet fragrance filled the air as she lathered it on, feeling a strange comfort in the simple luxury.

She closed her eyes, letting herself relax for a few moments, thinking about how Cazador had taken care of everything without her saying a word. It was... nice, she thought, before pushing away the feeling.

Y/N stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped loosely around her, her skin still glistening from the warmth of the water. She was about to walk over to the wardrobe when the door creaked open behind her.

"Ah!" she yelped, spinning around in surprise, her heart hammering in her chest. Her wide eyes locked onto Cazador, who stood in the doorway, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his gaze traced slowly over her exposed skin.

He didn’t flinch or look away, his eyes lingering as if he were studying her with an almost unsettling calmness. There was no sign of embarrassment in him—he seemed entirely unphased by her shocked reaction.

"Didn’t think you’d be quite so... surprised little mouse,” he said casually, voice cool and teasing as he let his gaze follow the line of her body. His words were a slow, deliberate drawl, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Y/N’s face burned with embarrassment, her heart racing. "What the fuck?! You could've knocked!" she snapped, quickly pulling the towel tighter around herself.

He only shrugged, his expression unreadable. "In my own home? You’re not the only one with things to do," he replied dryly, stepping into the room with an air of indifference, as though he wasn’t standing just a few feet away from her in such an intimate moment.

Without breaking his gaze, he held out the clothes he’d brought for her, still watching her with an unnerving intensity. "You’ll need these."

Y/N’s mouth went dry as she grabbed the clothes from his hands, refusing to meet his eyes as her cheeks flushed with both anger and embarrassment. "Thanks…” she muttered, but there was an awkwardness to her words now, her usual defiance slipping.

Cazador didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering just a moment longer before he turned on his heel. "Mmm...I’ll leave you to get dressed then," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet amusement as he made his way toward the door.

Y/N stood there, still reeling from the encounter, trying to steady her breathing. It took a few moments before she could shake the unsettling feeling of his eyes on her, but by then, he was already gone, leaving her alone in the room.

After a moment to collect herself, Y/N quickly dressed in the clothes Cazador had provided. The fabric felt soft against her skin. Once she was fully dressed, she ran a hand through her damp hair, still a bit flustered but determined to put the awkward moment behind her.

Taking a deep breath, she left the room and made her way downstairs. The castle was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the soft padding of her feet against the stone floors.

She could smell the delicious scent of dinner wafting through the air as she neared the dining hall. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her how long it had been since she had eaten anything substantial.

As she entered the room, she saw Cazador already seated at the table, his posture rigid and composed, though his eyes briefly flicked up to her as she approached. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her take a seat across from him, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor—an almost imperceptible softness that she couldn't see.

“Dinner is ready,” he said, his voice cool but with an undertone that suggested something unspoken.

Y/N nodded, still feeling a bit self-conscious. “Smells amazing,” she said, though her mind was still occupied by the strange encounter earlier. She picked up her fork, trying to focus on the food in front of her, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Cazador.

She turned to him, expecting an explanation, a remark—anything—but he remained silent, simply watching her, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Her gaze lingered on him, waiting, but he didn’t break the silence, only folded his hands on the table and looked back with that quiet, disconcerting intensity that left her both curious and unsettled.

She tilted her head, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “You know, I’m still not sure why you let me stay.“

Cazador’s eyes narrowed, though he didn’t flinch. “Thieves rarely make it past my doorstep,” he replied coolly, his voice edged with a dangerous calm. “It would be wise not to test the limits of my patience.”

“We’re cursed go ahead,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I just never thought I’d be here. This whole thing is… ” She sighed, her voice trailing off. “I was silent, and now I’m wondering if that’s been my weakness all along. I stayed quiet coming here, and look where it’s gotten me.”

His gaze sharpened, a flash of something almost too quick to catch. “You misunderstand. Silence isn’t weakness; it’s discipline. There are words better left unsaid, truths better left unseen.”

“Is that really what you believe?” she challenged, meeting his gaze steadily. “Or is that just a convenient way to bury what you can’t—or won’t—face?”

He held her stare, and for a split second, a flicker of something close to vulnerability crossed his expression. But he quickly masked it with an air of detachment. “It’s survival,” he answered, his tone hard. “There’s power in what you choose not to reveal.”

She leaned in slightly, her voice almost a whisper, as if the words themselves carried weight. “There’s a certain power in silence, in keeping things hidden. Secrets, tucked away, can feel like armor, protecting us from the world. But, in truth, silence isn’t always strength. It can become a cage, a quiet prison we build around ourselves, trapping what we’re too afraid to face. And yes, speaking—speaking can drain us of some of that power. It leaves us vulnerable, exposed. But sometimes, it’s only by giving voice to what we’ve carried in the dark that we can truly be free.” She paused, her eyes searching his with a kind of quiet intensity. “Is it better to speak, or to die?”

He studied her carefully, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Careful, or you might begin to sound like someone who believes words can save you. Words are tools of manipulation. I would think you, of all people, would understand that.”

She studied him and how serious he looked.

“Curiosity isn’t enough to keep you safe,” he stated flatly, eyes steady as they met hers. "If anything happens to you, it reflects on me. Every scrape, every bruise—you’ll feel it, and so will I."

“I know you’re only keeping me around for self-preservation,” she said, her voice low but steady. “But it would be nice to get to know each other a little. I mean, we’re in this together, aren’t we?”

His gaze hardened, his jaw tight. “Self-preservation,” he repeated, his voice cold, with a sharpness that hinted at something deeper. “If there’s any trust here, it’s because I need you to stay alive. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She nodded slowly, yet couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips. “But needing me here doesn’t feel like a burden to you, does it ?”

“Then you’re mistaken,” he replied curtly, eyes narrowing as if he could bury any softer sentiments beneath his steely gaze. “Be sure of one thing, little thief—this isn’t charity. I’m keeping you here because our lives are bound, not by choice, but by this curse.” He slowly rubs his sigil.

She nods slowly looking at her own sigil and subconsciously rubbing it too, taking in his words before she stared at him for a moment, her gaze narrowing as if trying to pierce through the layers of guarded tension he always carried. She could feel the weight of his presence, the silent rules he imposed on everything he did—no slip-ups, no mistakes. But something in her couldn’t help herself...

She crossed her arms, looking him over with a smirk. “After this, I’m stealing the fuck out of your relics, I swear,” she said smirking, voice laced with humour and some seriousness. The words felt like a shield, something to deflect from the growing weight of the silence between them.

Cazador didn’t blink, his eyes staying on her as if trying to measure whether she meant it or not. His lips twitched, but he didn’t allow a smile to surface. Instead, his gaze hardened as he tilted his head slightly, observing her.

"You think you can," he said coolly, the challenge in his voice clear but understated.

Y/N’s smirk deepened, her fingers tapping on the table lightly. “Oh, I will. ” she teased, leaning back in her chair, the air around them shifting with the playful tension.

Cazador’s eyes never left her, but there was a flicker there, something almost like an understanding in his gaze, but he quickly masked it. “Then you’ll have to be fast,” he replied, his voice sharp as ever, but his posture, just slightly more relaxed than before.

She raised an eyebrow, feeling her grin widen. “I’m fast. You’ll see.”

There was a brief moment of silence, where both of them seemed to forget the weight of everything else—just the two of them, playing at something deeper, something neither of them realized.

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Haiiiiii ! Im super happy with this chapter I realized that I should write shorter chapters because I have a lot of shtuff to say haha

Thank you for reading please leave a like / reblog :)

Also…I just love this song intro like holy smokes it’s addicting.

Siren

#twisted fate #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 cazador #cazador x reader #bg3 cazador szarr #Twisted Fate Series #Spotify #cazador x tav #baldurs gate 3 cazador #cazador szarr

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siren-in-the-shadow · 14 days ago

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Hi! 🩵 I really like how you gracefully balance between the canonical cruelty of Cazador with your headcanons about some tiny sprouts of his love and care! (I can't wait for the next chapters of Twisted Fate, and let your alphabet slip somewhere in the next chapters, amen 😂)

Hi! 🩷

Thank you so much sweetness I’m so happy

you like the content ! Seeing your

Mssg made me giggle and kick me feet lol

And hey, I will be kinda milking the Twisted Fate series haha but it’s because I have so so many ideas and things I want to write for it !! Smut will happen, but let me set the tone first 😏 😉

Siren

#Twisted Fate #baldurs gate 3 #siren

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siren-in-the-shadow · 16 days ago

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NSFW Alphabet : Cazador X Reader

Mentions: SMUT, She/Her, NSFW, also Vanilla lol, lowkey not proof read Word Count: 9.7k (i know im crazy)

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Song

A - Aftercare

After a night of intense intimacy, Cazador’s approach to aftercare is almost paradoxical. He isn't one to openly admit to softness, yet as the two of you lie together, his hands seem to have a mind of their own, one resting on your back, fingers splayed possessively, while the other drifts to your hair, smoothing out any disarray. He’s quiet at first, the silence stretching long between you, but there’s an unusual stillness to him, as though he’s keeping vigil.

“You should rest,” he murmurs finally, though his fingers don’t stop their idle tracing along your spine. He lets out a low hum, one that almost sounds like a sigh, his voice dropping even lower. “You’re utterly helpless now, you realize.”

He watches you as he says this, his sharp gaze softened ever so slightly as it traces over your features, as if marking them in memory. After a pause, he speaks again, tone guarded yet laced with reluctant sincerity.

“I don’t… wish for you to suffer,” he says, each word deliberate, as though struggling to piece together the right way to convey something so foreign to him. “If there’s anything—anything—you need, you’ll tell me. I won’t tolerate complaints of neglect.”

His gaze lingers, and he reaches for your hand, brushing his thumb over the back of it almost unconsciously. But as quickly as it started, his momentary openness fades, his demeanor snapping back to its typical aloofness. He pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around you in a way that’s both comforting and undeniably possessive.

“Now, be still,” he murmurs, a faint glint of that familiar, predatory gleam in his eyes. “I’m not quite done with you yet.”

And he holds you there, his touch shifting between firm and unexpectedly gentle, his presence steady, as though silently vowing not to leave you for the rest of the night.

B - Biting

For Cazador, biting is more than just an act; it's a declaration. Each nip and graze of his fangs serves as a reminder of his dominance, his power, and, above all, his insatiable hunger for you. He relishes in the sensation of your skin beneath his teeth, savoring every shiver, every gasp that escapes your lips. Sometimes, the bites are playful, a teasing brush of his sharp fangs against your neck, sending chills down your spine. (Damn, that'll make your pussy throb!)

But more often, they’re possessive. His bites are marks—claiming, branding, and staking his dominance in a way that leaves no doubt in your mind that you are his.

At times, he’ll pull back just enough to admire his handiwork, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he takes in the marks blooming on your skin. His voice is a low, dangerous whisper as he leans back in, his fangs grazing just beneath your jaw.

“You bear my mark now,” he murmurs, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “A reminder that you’re bound to me, in body and soul.”

He presses another bite, deeper this time, his hold tightening as he relishes the way you tense under his touch. His voice drops to a near growl, laced with dark amusement.

“Does it hurt, pet? Good,” he purrs, almost tenderly. “I want you to feel it. To remember.”

When he finally pulls back, he leaves a trail of gentle, almost soothing kisses along the sensitive skin, as if offering a twisted form of comfort. His lips hover near your ear, his breath warm as he chuckles softly.

“Don’t worry my love,” he murmurs. “I’ll be sure to leave many more.”

C - Control

Control is Cazador’s domain, and he plays the part of master with dangerous finesse. It’s not just about physical dominance—it’s about bending every part of you, mind and body, to his will. He doesn’t just expect submission; he demands it, and he takes pleasure in ensuring you never forget who holds the power. His control over you is absolute, extending beyond the bedroom into every interaction, every look, every word. Cazador knows how to wield his power, how to make you crave his dominance, and he won’t hesitate to remind you of it.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice velvet and smooth, yet leaving no room for defiance. His fingers tilt your chin up, his grip firm, his gaze piercing as if he’s searching for any flicker of resistance. When he finds none, his lips curl into a faint smirk of approval.

“Good,” he murmurs, his fingers releasing you slowly, letting his touch linger, a reminder of his control even when he pulls away. “Obedience becomes you.”

There are moments when he’ll test you, pushing you to see just how far you’ll follow him. With the smallest of gestures, he holds you in place, his eyes never leaving yours, his unspoken commands vibrating in the air between you.

“Patience,” he whispers, almost too quietly, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Do not think you can rush me. I set the pace here—no one else.”

Each time you meet his gaze, there’s a fire in his eyes, an insistent reminder that he is in control, and the moment you stepped into his world, you accepted that fact. And he never lets you forget it.

Control for Cazador is more than a need; it’s his way of binding you to him, molding you into someone who understands his desires without needing to speak them. His power, his influence, and the intensity of his gaze all coalesce into a single truth: you are his, entirely and without reservation, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I don’t think you understand,” he continues, taking a slow step toward you, his presence overpowering. “Every time you even think about resisting, I’ll make you regret it. But that’s your choice, isn’t it?”

He steps closer, his body pressing against yours as his hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His lips hover just above your ear, and his voice drops, becoming a dangerous whisper.

“Do you think you have a say in this?” His hot breath against your skin. “You don't. I’ve already decided for you. And you will learn to obey.”

With a sudden, almost ruthless tug, he pulls you flush against him, his grip tightening as he pins you in place. His lips curl into a dark smile as he lowers his head, whispering in that voice that both thrills and terrifies you.

“I control every part of you, pet. Don’t forget it.”

His hand slides possessively down your back, the firmness of his grip sending a silent warning that he owns every inch of you. He makes you feel his control in everything he does, from the way he speaks to how he touches you. His touch becomes almost suffocating as he leans in closer, his lips grazing your neck.

"You want to move?" he murmurs, his fangs brushing your skin teasingly. "Not unless I allow it."

He presses his body harder against yours, reminding you that when it comes to him, you have no freedom, no say. Only obedience. His fingers dig into your sides, a clear message that you are his to command, and when he pulls away, his eyes never leave yours, lingering on your every move, as if waiting for you to prove how far you’ll bend for him.

D - Daddy

When Cazador makes you use the word “daddy,” it carries an undeniable weight of control, but beneath that, there’s something tender, almost protective.

As for you the pet names vary. He uses them to weave a connection, each one a little softer than the last: pet, sweetheart, good girl, my dove—they’re reminders of his claim over you, but also of the bond he feels.

His words, while commanding, hold a warmth that betrays the darkness within him. They carry affection, a deeper need to keep you close, not just because he can, but because he truly desires you. Each pet name isn’t just a mark of ownership—it’s a sign of his twisted care, an acknowledgment that you are his in the most intimate sense, and in return, he wants you to feel treasured, even in his possessiveness.

He steps closer, his scent intoxicating, his presence overpowering. His fingers graze the side of your face, guiding you to meet his eyes as he speaks again, his voice tinged with a warning edge.

“Pet,” he growls softly. “Say it. Say it, and I might just let you touch me.”

His fingers caress the curve of your throat, but his touch is possessive, demanding. His lips brush your ear, and his next words are barely a whisper—yet they land like a strike.

“You think you’re in control here?” he sneers. “You think you can escape me? Oh my Sweetheart, when you say that word, you belong to me. There’s no going back.”

He waits, watching as your resistance falters, and when you finally whisper it—just a soft, trembling “daddy”—his smile deepens into something darker, more predatory. He holds your gaze for a moment before pulling you roughly toward him, his lips hovering just above yours.

“That’s better,” he purrs. “Now you’re mine. My dove.”

His hand slips lower, his grip tightening as he pulls you into him, his body hard and unforgiving against yours. His lips crash against your neck, kissing and biting the soft skin, each mark leaving an indelible trace of his ownership. His fangs graze your skin, pulling another breathless gasp from you as he mutters into your flesh.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and velvety. “Now you know your place.” He lingers on the word, making sure you feel the weight of it, the authority behind it. “That’s right. You belong to Daddy. Mine.”

He chuckles darkly, pressing his forehead to yours as he relishes in the power he holds over you.

“Tell me, my pet,” he whispers, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction, “Do you know what happens when you belong to me? Everything. Everything is mine. Your body. Your pleasure. Your obedience. It all bends to my will.”

E - Edge Play

With Cazador, edge play is a dangerous and tantalizing game of restraint. He delights in taking you right to the edge of your limits—whether it’s physical or emotional—and holding you there, never quite letting you fall over. The anticipation builds, suffocating, as he keeps you teetering on that line between pleasure and pain, desire and denial. He doesn’t rush; he savors every moment, knowing exactly how to push your boundaries just enough to make you ache for release.

He watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving yours as he gauges every reaction. He knows exactly how far to go before pulling back, leaving you desperate, but never fully giving in. It’s a constant dance, one where his control is at its peak, and your pleasure is a privilege, not a right.

"You’re doing so well, pet," Cazador murmurs, his voice low and rich with satisfaction. His fingers dance across your skin, just enough to tease, never enough to satisfy. His other hand grips your wrist, holding you still as your body strains against him.

He leans in close, his lips brushing your ear. “Do you enjoy being this close to breaking, my dove?” His voice is a mixture of dark amusement and possessive hunger. “I can see how badly you want to fall, to crumble beneath me. But not yet. I decide when you get to.” He throws his head back in pleasure, savoring the moment.

He presses his body against yours, the heat of his touch, the intensity of his proximity, making it almost unbearable. You can feel the tension in the air, thick and heady. You’re on the brink, just one more push away from the release you crave.

"Don’t you dare move," he commands, his voice turning sharp as his grip tightens.

F - Fetish (Period Sex/Eating out)

Cazador's fetish with blood runs deep, but it's not just about feeding in the traditional sense. There’s something raw, primal, and undeniably intimate about blood that he can't resist, especially when it’s tied to your most vulnerable moments. It’s not about violence; it’s about ownership, possession, and the unique connection that only a vampire like him can truly understand.

When you're on your period, Cazador’s dark desires come to the forefront—he's fascinated by the idea of tasting your blood in a way that feels even more intimate, more personal. It's an act of devotion and control, where he finds pleasure in every drop, savoring the sweet richness of your essence.

To him, it's more than just a physical act—it's about the vulnerability you show when you're in your most natural, unguarded state. It deepens the bond between you, marking you as his in a way no one else could. It makes him feel seen that you trust him.

(He’s crazy good at the head game I swearrrrr, man goes WILD slurp!)

His fingers trail down your body slowly, deliberately, until they stop, just below your waist. He leans in close, lips brushing against your inner thigh, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through your body.

"This... blood," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. "It’s a part of you, a part that no one else gets to taste. Only me."

His fangs graze your skin lightly as his hands explore, his attention on you fully. "You belong to me, in every way. Even when you're like this, even when you're at your most vulnerable, you're mine. Don't pretend you don't feel it... feel the way I mark you. Completely."

He pauses for a moment, inhaling deeply as though savoring the moment, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second. Then, his voice drops to a more hushed tone, full of reverence. "Thank you," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the lines of your skin with careful precision. "You are mine... fully, completely. Every part of you is a gift I don't take lightly."

The possessiveness in his voice is unmistakable, but there's also something tender beneath the surface, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you're sharing.

"You’re mine, and only mine," he continues, his lips ghosting over your skin, his breath hot against you. "But know this, my dove..." His voice deepens, intense yet filled with something almost reverent. "I am yours in return. Completely. No part of me exists without you."

G - Spot

With a shift of his body, he moves closer, his fingers tracing delicate paths down your spine. His breath is warm on your neck as he presses himself against you, his lips hovering just above your skin. “I can make you feel things you never knew you needed,” he murmurs, his words low, hypnotic, as though he’s speaking just for you.

You arch slightly in response, a soft gasp escaping you, and Cazador’s smirk deepens. He revels in the power he holds over you, in the way your body trembles under his touch. “I’ve been waiting for this, my dear,” he whispers. “Waiting to make you ache for me, to make you fall apart at my command.”

His hand slides lower, tracing your curves with a careful, controlled precision, as though he’s savoring every moment. His fingers hover near your center, barely touching, teasing, before he presses just the right amount of pressure. The connection is instant, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips.

“There it is,” he growls softly, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “I know your body better than anyone, better than you even know yourself.” He dips his fingers lower, and you can feel him carefully coaxing that sensitive spot with expert precision, pushing you to a level of pleasure that makes your body arch in instinctive response.

He watches you, fascinated by every movement, every tremble. His grip tightens slightly as you involuntarily shift against him, and his voice drops to a hushed growl. “Do you feel that?” He leans closer, his breath brushing your ear as he whispers, “You’re mine, and everything about you is mine to explore, to savor, to take.” The world around you narrows down to him—his touch, his voice, his every movement.

“You’re perfect like this, my dove, aren’t you?” Cazador murmurs as he adjusts, shifting again to deepen the connection. “Helpless, giving yourself over to me completely.”

He leans down, kissing you deeply, his tongue teasing your lips as his fingers continue their work. The intensity builds, each stroke making you feel more exposed, more claimed. “I knew you’d beg for more, and I’ll give you everything you’ve been craving,” he promises, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to remember this. Remember me.”

Honourable mention-Gag play: This man adores seeing you with your mouth full of his cock choking on it, tears spilling, his cum dripping down your mouth, down your neck...

H - Heart

Cazador is a man who has buried his heart beneath layers of manipulation, dominance, and endless thirst for power. He doesn't like to admit it—maybe not even to himself—but something has changed since you entered his life.

At first, it was an irresistible desire for control, for possession. He thought he could simply use you, shape you to his will as he has with so many others. But now... now things are different.

When he looks at you, there's something in his chest that tightens—something warm, something that pulses with an unfamiliar intensity. It’s not a feeling he welcomes, but it’s there, undeniable. He hates it, in a way, but he can't seem to stop himself from wanting more of it. More of you.

"You don't understand what you're doing to me," he murmurs one night, his voice unusually soft. His fingers caress your skin, almost tenderly, though there's a haunted look in his eyes. "I never wanted this. I never wanted to care about anyone. But here you are... twisting everything I thought I knew."

His lips brush against your temple as he sighs, a rare moment of vulnerability passing through him. "You're mine," he says again, the possessive edge to his words still present, but now laced with something deeper. "But you're more than that. You’ve carved a place in my heart that I can't fill with power or control."

His eyes meet yours, and for a fleeting moment, you see it—genuine emotion. His usually guarded expression softens as he speaks again, this time more quietly, as if admitting something he’s never voiced aloud.

"You’ve… become something important to me, and I hate that," he confesses, his voice barely a whisper. "You should be nothing more than a spawn to me. But the truth is... I can’t stop thinking about you, can’t stop wanting you by my side."

He runs his thumb over your hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I never thought I'd allow myself to feel something like this. But with you, it’s different. I... I don't know what it means, but I’m not sure I care to find out."

The cold, calculating ruler that Cazador is often seen as melts away, just for a moment, leaving behind a man who’s torn between the harsh walls he’s built around himself and the undeniable truth that your presence has claimed a piece of his heart.

I - Impregnation ( Breeding Kink )

The moment the thought crosses his mind, Cazador's gaze sharpens, his lips curling into a slow, almost imperceptible smirk. He’s always been one to control every situation, to own everything and everyone in his life. The idea of creating a life with you—something tied to both of you, something that will carry a part of him—sparks a deeper, more primal feeling within him. It’s thrilling, unsettling, and undeniably intoxicating.

At first, Cazador doesn’t know how to process it. He is used to the fleeting, the temporary. The idea of a permanent tie, one that links him to another being in the most profound way possible, feels foreign, but he can’t deny the dark thrill it stirs in him. It’s his mark, his claim, and it feels like everything he’s ever wanted and feared, all at once.

His hand slides down your body possessively, stopping just above your abdomen. He feels a stirring deep within him, a primitive urge that rises from the core of his being. His voice drops to a low, dangerous growl as he looks at you, the fire in his eyes burning even hotter than before.

“Imagine it,” he growls, his voice thick with growing hunger, each word more intense than the last. “A child of ours—myblood running through their veins.” His hand drifts lower, settling against your abdomen with deliberate possessiveness, as if staking his claim on not only your body but the very life within you. “No one—no one—will ever come close to you. To us. You’re mine, and nothing will change that.”

There’s a sharpness to his tone, possessive and unwavering, but underneath it, you can sense something softer—a deep pride, a hint of something that could be called affection, if only barely. He moves closer, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin as he presses himself against you, almost too tightly, as though afraid to let go.

“You’ll carry my blood now,” he murmurs, his voice softer but still laced with dominance. “And you’ll carry it with pride, because it means you’re mine—every part of you. In every way.” His lips graze your ear, his words barely a whisper, but full of meaning that sends a shiver down your spine. “You and our child, bound to me in a way that no one can ever undo.”

He tilts your chin up, eyes intense as they lock with yours. The usual cold distance in his gaze softens for a moment, revealing a flicker of something much more raw. “And this child? They’ll belong to us both. They’ll carry our legacy. No one, not even time, will separate us.”

Cazador's fingers move up to gently trace the curve of your neck, a small, almost reverent gesture. "I’ll make sure they know exactly who they belong to," he murmurs, lips brushing against the hollow of your throat. "I’ll make sure they never forget how important they are to me."

The thought of it thrills him in a way he didn’t expect. The child, a part of both of you, a living, breathing reminder of your bond. It is an ownership, a claim, but also a connection he has never allowed himself to feel before. His chest tightens at the thought of something so irrevocably his—and his alone.

“You are mine, and now, with this…” His voice drops lower, his hand sliding possessively across your body. “You’re more mine than ever.”

For a moment, there's a shift. Beneath the layers of dominance and control, there’s something else—something tender, something almost fragile. He presses a kiss to your forehead, softer than anything he’s ever given before.

“You’ll always be mine, my love,” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And now… we’ll create something that ensures it. Something no one can take from us.”

His fingers gently caress the curve of your stomach again, his gaze intense. "You’re carrying my essence now. You and this child will be mine—always."

J - Jerking Off

Cazador’s eyes gleam with an intensity that is almost predatory, his gaze lingering on you as if he could devour you with just a look. Yet, despite the undeniable hunger in his expression, he does not act on it immediately. There’s a restraint in him, a discipline that makes him all the more dangerous.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to control myself?” he asks, his voice low and laced with a dark amusement. His hand clenches at his side, as though the very thought of giving in would break him. “It would be so easy to take what I want. But I prefer to make you wait. To make you feel how much I want you, without ever giving in.”

He steps closer, each movement calculated and slow, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t need to indulge in such simple pleasures. No. I prefer to save every ounce of desire, every ounce of need, for something much sweeter. For you.” His voice drops, growing more intimate. “I could do so much more, make you ache for me, but why would I do that when I know you’ll beg for me in the end?”

He moves with the slow, deliberate control of a predator, circling you as if testing your every reaction. “The thought of making you beg, of watching you squirm—that is far more delicious than any fleeting moment of pleasure I could find alone.”

He pauses, his lips curling into a slight, knowing smile. “Why waste a moment on such triviality when I have you right here in front of me, all of you, to claim as I wish? No, my love. I don’t need to touch myself when I have you—my desire, my pleasure, my everything... all wrapped up in you.”

K - Kitten Play

It had started as a joke. A playful meow, a tease to make him laugh, to see how far you could push him with your wit. But the second the sound left your lips, you saw the shift in his eyes. The spark of amusement was replaced by something far more intense, almost predatory.

Cazador watched you, his gaze sharpening as he took in the way you playfully batted your lashes. The air between you thickened, and for a moment, you thought he might just laugh it off. But instead, he only nodded slowly, as though the suggestion had ignited something much darker in him.

The next day, he returned with a package—small, delicate, yet undeniably his in its precision. He didn't speak, only handed you the items with a smirk. "I think you might like these," he said, voice dripping with that familiar mixture of amusement and dominance.

You opened the package to find black kitten ears, soft and luxurious, and a set of lace lingerie that made your cheeks flush. It hit you immediately: he was taking this seriously.

When you hesitated, unsure of what to say, Cazador moved closer, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “I don’t recall asking for your thoughts,” he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. “I asked you to pur, my kitten. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His tone was firm, but there was a flicker of something almost possessive beneath it. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle deep inside you. Slowly, you dressed in the lingerie, slipping the ears on top of your head, and approached him.

Kneeling in front of him, you couldn’t hide the way your body reacted to the intensity in his gaze. The atmosphere in the room was charged, thick with expectation.

“You look perfect,” Cazador said, his voice low and gravelly as he admired you. He traced a finger along your jaw, lifting your chin to make you meet his eyes. "Now, my little kitten... pur for me."

He wasn’t asking, and you knew that. This wasn’t a game anymore. It was a command. And you couldn’t help but feel the heat rise in your body as you obeyed, a small, soft sound escaping your lips, the surrender in it unmistakable.

Cazador’s eyes darken with approval as he steps closer, the smirk never leaving his lips. "Such a good little kitten," he murmured, his fingers brushing the soft tips of your ears. "Now, let’s see just how well you can behave for me."

L - Lingerie

( Hes gonna spoil you like a filthy sugar daddy I swear y’all. ANYTHING you want, you got )

Cazador’s eyes darken as he enters the room, his gaze immediately locking onto you. The moment he sees you dressed in the delicate lingerie he bought for you, the atmosphere shifts. His eyes scan every inch of your body, his expression hardening with desire, and for a moment, he stops in his tracks, his breath hitching. You can feel the weight of his gaze like a touch, as though he's savoring every moment of the sight in front of him.

He steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate. “Is this how you choose to tempt me, my love?” His voice is low, thick with longing, but there’s an edge to it, a possessiveness that’s undeniable. “You wear so little for me, and yet every inch of you is designed to drive me to the brink.”

You watch as he takes a step closer, his presence pressing against you, and he reaches out to trace the lace of your lingerie with a finger. The touch is light, but you can feel the tension in his movements, like he’s barely holding himself back. “You look... perfect,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with a hunger that’s hard to ignore. “But it’s not just about how you look. It’s what I feel when I see you like this—what you make me want.”

Suddenly, without warning, he grabs your hand and places it firmly on his member, guiding you with a forceful, yet possessive grip. He holds your hand there, his breath ragged as his body reacts to the pressure of your touch. “You see what you do to me, my dove?” he growls, his voice thick with desire. "Every inch of you... every little thing you wear, it consumes me." He watches you intently, his gaze heated, predatory. “I’m already losing control, and we haven’t even begun.”

He pulls you closer, tilting your chin with a finger, forcing you to meet his eyes. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “Prove to me that you want this. Show me, pet, how badly you want to belong to me... how badly you want me to claim you.”

M - Masochism

For Cazador, masochism is more than just causing pain—it’s the control it gives him, the power to test your limits, and the trust that you place in him without a word. He doesn't take pleasure in your suffering for its own sake; it's the sight of you fighting your instincts, the way you push through, your strength and vulnerability intertwining.

Watching you struggle against the edge, knowing you’ve chosen to surrender yourself to him, excites him. Pain, to Cazador, is not a weakness but a raw connection—a means to test devotion and deepen trust. To him, it’s not about domination for domination's sake, but about building something sacred between you both. In those moments, pain becomes an act of devotion, and submission is a beautiful, intimate offering, proving just how deeply you trust him to guide you through the storm of pleasure and agony.

As you kneel before him, your breath coming in soft pants, he leans in with a smirk, his hand gripping your hair, tilting your head back to expose the delicate skin of your neck.

“I could hurt you now,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with promise. “But it’s not about that, is it? It’s about how you feel when I do it. How you give yourself to me, how you trust that I’ll never take too much. How you trust me to bring you to the edge and pull you back when it’s too much to bear.”

He brushes a thumb across your lip, then down to your throat, his gaze darkening. “That’s what I want to see—the surrender in your eyes when you give me everything.”

He presses closer, his body hovering over yours, as he speaks again, his voice a growl. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you? Even when I test your limits? Even when the pain becomes unbearable. You’ll take it all, my pet, because you know that’s how I love you.”

N - Nurting

(Vanilla, I know…)

Cazador's nurturing side is a rare and precious part of him—one he guards closely, especially considering his history and darker tendencies. For him, nurturing is not a simple act of care, but a deeper, more intimate expression of devotion. He doesn’t show this side to everyone; it’s reserved for someone who has earned his trust, someone who has seen beyond his cold, commanding exterior. It’s a side of him that he often keeps hidden, even from you, but when he lets it show, it’s deeply impactful.

His nurturing side is subtle but undeniably present. It can be seen in the way he watches over you, how he makes sure you're comfortable before anything else, even when he's consumed by his darker urges.

There are moments when his touch is tender, when he gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear or presses a kiss to your forehead, making sure you feel cared for and safe—something he's not accustomed to offering freely.

This softer side of Cazador contrasts sharply with his usual dominant nature, but it's just as powerful. It shows that beneath his hardened exterior lies someone who can love and care deeply, even if he struggles to express it outwardly. He may not always be vocal in his nurturing, but his actions speak louder than words—protecting, guiding, and taking care of you in his own, unique way.

Checking on you: After a long day, you’re sitting alone, perhaps feeling a bit down, lost in your thoughts. Cazador, ever observant, notices the slight change in your demeanor. He leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you for a moment. “What’s bothering you, my love?” he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. “You can tell me. I’m right here.” You try to brush it off, but he steps forward, taking your hand gently. “Come now. Don’t hide it from me.” He pulls you into his arms, resting his chin atop your head. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.” He holds you for a long moment, offering nothing but his presence, his warmth, and his silent support. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. “You’ve got me, my dove.”

Before bed: As the night draws near, you start to wind down for bed, but Cazador, noticing your restlessness, comes over to sit beside you. He brushes your hair back and watches your eyes with a patient intensity. “Troubled thoughts, pet?” he murmurs. “Let them go.” He leans in, his voice low and soothing, “Let me distract you. Just relax with me for a while.” He runs his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp lightly as he draws you closer. “Nothing else matters but this moment.” As he holds you close, you feel the stress of the day melt away under his careful, nurturing attention. The rhythm of his touch is comforting, and his low voice promises rest, safety, and comfort as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

O - Orgasm

For Cazador, orgasm is a deeply intimate and personal experience, one that connects you both in a way that transcends the physical. He finds thrill in the slow buildup, in savoring each moment as it intensifies. It’s not just about the pleasure—it’s about knowing that he’s the one leading you to that breaking point, taking his time to make every sensation last. When it finally comes, it's not only about release; it's about sharing that peak with you, feeling the rush of intimacy that comes from knowing he’s the one who’s taken you there.

You’re on the edge, breathless and trembling under his touch. Cazador’s eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he watches you unravel before him. He slows down just as you’re about to reach your peak, savoring the control he has over you.

His voice low and tender, "How does it feel?"

You meet his gaze, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, your body aching with anticipation. You can barely form words, but the look in your eyes says everything. You nod, softly biting your lip as your body responds to his touch, to the rhythm of his hands.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "I want to hear it, my love. Let me know you're close," he says, voice steady, soft—laced with a quiet intensity.

You gasp as his fingers find the places that make you shudder, the tension in your body tightening as you get closer. "I... I’m so close, Cazador," you breathe, your words catching in your throat.

A small smile curls on his lips, the softest of expressions as he watches you carefully. "Let go, darling," he whispers, a little breathless himself now, as he presses a kiss to your neck. "I’m right here with you, feel it all."

Your body trembles as you reach the edge, the sensations crashing over you like a wave. He’s still there, his touch never faltering, his warmth surrounding you, grounding you as you unravel.

When the wave of pleasure hits, you let out a soft gasp, your body arching beneath him. He holds you close, his arms wrapping around you to steady you as you ride the peak together. As your breath slows, and your body relaxes in the aftermath, Cazador presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"You’re perfect," he murmurs, his voice soft but sincere. "Absolutely perfect. How do you feel?"

You smile, a contented sigh escaping your lips as you curl against him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "So good. So good. You make me feel like I’m the only one who matters."

He hums, his hand stroking your hair as he holds you close. "You are, my dove," he whispers, the warmth of his words making you feel cherished. "You’re the only one who ever could."

You smile, resting your head on his chest, and for a long moment, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of you, sharing something that’s deeper than pleasure, something that connects you both in a way words could never fully express.

P - Positions

Missionary is Cazador’s favorite position because it gives him the chance to feel deeply connected and in control while still maintaining that intimate closeness that he craves. It's a position that allows for eye contact, which is important to him, as he loves to see every expression on your face, to watch how you respond to his every movement. There's something about the way you melt under him, the way your breath hitches as he moves inside you, that fuels something deep within him.

Honourable favourites also include….

Doggy Style: This position allows for a more primal dynamic, where Cazador can take the lead in a powerful way. He can press you against him, maintaining control over the rhythm and depth, while also being able to reach forward and touch you intimately. This position offers a balance of power and intimacy and can be an expression of both desire and possession.

Standing: Cazador might enjoy a standing position when the desire is urgent and intense. He can press you up against a wall or a surface, with you in his arms, your legs wrapped around him. This position gives him the ability to feel his partner’s body against his own in a more spontaneous way, allowing for powerful, passionate moments. (He loves how small your little body looks as he towers over you )

Face Sitting: Because of course he’d want to savour you

In the Cowgirl position, with Cazador lying back on the bed and you straddling him, the dynamic shifts in an intriguing way. While you're in control of the rhythm, Cazador’s powerful arms are a constant reminder of his strength, and he doesn't hesitate to use that to guide you, even as you take the reins.

His hands rest on your hips, fingers digging into your soft skin, pulling you down closer with each thrust, his breath coming in short, heated gasps. Though you’re technically in charge of the pace, he makes it clear that he’s still very much in control of the situation. His eyes never leave you as he watches the way you move, savoring every second, his lips parted in pleasure.

“You feel so perfect on top of me, my dove,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire. “I can’t get enough of the way your body moves. But don’t think for a second that you’re the one calling all the shots.” He pulls you down harder, guiding your hips with his strong hands, making sure you’re moving at the pace he desires. The contrast of you being on top and him still having the power to dictate the rhythm creates an intoxicating tension between you both. He’s vocal now, more than ever, as if every sensation is so intense that he has no choice but to express it.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises, though there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I think I’d like to see you move a little faster. Can you handle that, my pet? Show me how badly you want it.”

His hands slide from your hips to your thighs, using his strength to guide your motions while still allowing you the freedom to move. His voice is thick with lust as he grows more vocal, encouraging you with every movement. “You feel so good, my love. Don’t stop… don’t slow down. I need you just like this, faster, harder… give me everything.”

As he expertly guides your movements, making sure you're hitting every angle perfectly. With every pull, he meets you halfway, turning the act into something deeper, something far more than just physical. It’s an exchange of trust, passion, and unrelenting desire, with Cazador’s vocalizations growing louder, more desperate as he loses himself in the feeling of you on top of him.

Q - Quiet

(Shhhhhh!)

Every time he covers your mouth, it serves as a reminder of the trust you place in him, but also the power he holds over you. He feels a rush of dominance and pride, knowing that in those moments, you're entirely his to command.

But there's more than just the thrill of control. Silencing you, in this way, brings an intimacy that words cannot express. It allows Cazador to connect with you on a level that goes beyond the physical, as the absence of speech heightens your every other sense, turning your shared experience into something purely emotional and visceral.

In the yard, the moment between you both is unexpected and swift. You were on your back, your love standing pounding mercilessly into you, when a wave of pleasure hits you. Before you can try to suppress it, a loud moan escapes your lips, the sensation overwhelming you, and your body betrays you. Cazador notices instantly.

His eyes darken, and in one fluid motion, he presses his hand firmly over your mouth, his fingers commanding and unwavering.“You’re so naughty,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

His grip tightens, holding you in place as he feels the aftershocks of your release. “How careless of you,” he teases, his lips curling into a smirk. “I thought you knew better.”

You struggle to steady your breath, but his presence is all-consuming. His hand over your mouth is both a reminder of his dominance and a quiet warning. “Oh please, you knew what you were doing...Plus the neighbors will hear,” you whisper, a teasing edge to your voice.

He smirks, a low, silent groan escaping him as he shakes his head. “That’s exactly what I was counting on.”

R - Roleplay

Cazador thrives on roleplay because it allows him to explore the depth of control and influence he holds over his partner while tapping into darker desires. He enjoys scenarios where he can switch between assertive dominance and calculated care, each role enabling him to test boundaries, challenge her obedience, and heighten the thrill of their connection.

The act of guiding her through different personas, from a helpless submissive to an obedient servant, stirs a primal satisfaction within him, as it reinforces his sense of power. At the same time, there’s an intense rush that comes from seeing her trust him enough to embrace these roles, allowing him to lead her through the experience.

For Cazador, roleplay isn’t just about the action—it’s about the mental and emotional control, the way it makes him feel both invincible and deeply connected to her. It makes him feel alive in a way that’s beyond physicality, solidifying his place as the one who holds the reins in their dynamic.

Predator and Prey Dom and Sub (of course this is their standard lol ) Teacher and Student Owner and Slave Vampire and Victim/Princess (heheheheeh) Hunter and Witch Fighter and Trainer Beauty and the Beast

S - Spanking

Spanking is a form of control that taps into Cazador's darker, primal side. The act itself is a combination of power, domination, and a deep sense of satisfaction for him. It's not just about the physical sensation, but the psychological play that comes with it. For Cazador, the impact of his hand against her skin is a reminder of his dominance, a way to mark her as his.

Every time he spanks her, it serves as a reminder of the trust she has placed in him, and the control he exerts over her. It is a visceral, commanding act that creates a space where she submits fully, and he can indulge in his need to assert authority, watching her body react with each strike.

To him, it feels exhilarating — the way she reacts, how her body trembles or arches under his touch, the small whimpers she tries to suppress. The act of spanking allows him to feel more in tune with his base desires, giving him a rush of power while still feeling connected to her vulnerability.

It also creates an intimacy for him, one that goes beyond just physical connection. The moment of spanking intensifies the relationship’s dynamic, locking them in a cycle of trust, surrender, and dominance.

If it’s part of a larger scene, he might enjoy the control it gives him over her movements, the way he can decide when to stop or when to push her further. He may watch her carefully, taking pleasure not just in the act but in how he’s able to push her limits and test her boundaries — all while maintaining that delicate balance between desire and submission.

T - Teasing

Cazador enjoys keeping his partner on edge, finding deep satisfaction in how anticipation heightens her reactions. Every soft brush of his fingers, every lingering glance, is calculated to make her crave more while he takes his time. He loves the subtle shifts in her expression—the flicker of frustration, the subtle bite of her lip—as he teases her without ever quite giving in. It’s a game of restraint for both of them, and he savors every moment he keeps her waiting.

"Patience, my love," he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips. "You’ll have what you want… but only when I’m ready." He lets his hand drift, fingertips ghosting over her skin, keeping her on edge without satisfying her craving.

Her breath catches, and she murmurs, "You’re doing this on purpose…"

His eyes glint with mischief. "Oh, you noticed?" he replies, amused. "Look at you," he continues, his voice low. "So eager, so desperate. Do you know how much I enjoy watching you squirm?"

She shivers under his gaze, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Stop teasing, you know what I want-what I need from you”

But he only chuckles softly, leaning in closer. "Oh, darling, drawing it out like this makes it all the sweeter."

U - Undressing

Cazador has an affinity for the way fine fabrics feel against her skin, for the way her beauty is elevated by delicate jewels, but even more, he relishes in the act of undressing her. The anticipation of revealing her, piece by piece, is a luxury in itself—a slow, intimate ritual that he indulges in with every opportunity.

“Such exquisite things deserve to be touched with care,” he murmurs, his fingers dancing over the fabric of her dress before sliding the delicate fabric away from her skin. His movements are deliberate, each touch a promise of what’s to come, each motion creating a tension that neither of them can deny.

He loves how her skin feels against his, the soft warmth of her exposed body drawing him in, but what excites him the most is how each piece of clothing he removes seems to draw her closer to him. Whether it’s his mouth or his hands, he takes his time, savoring the moments.”

When he undresses her with his mouth, it’s slow, a kiss to the small of her back, a lingering touch along her collarbone, his lips trailing down her skin as his hands gently guide her out of her clothing. He savors every inch of her, his breath against her skin like a promise of something more. "Every inch of you is mine to explore," he whispers against her ear, his voice low, velvety with desire.

But sometimes, it’s not just his hands or his lips that undress her—it’s the intensity of his gaze. She can feel his eyes roving over her as if each glance were an invitation, a demand. She can feel the weight of his stare even when he's still, even when he isn’t physically near. His eyes undress her just as thoroughly as his hands ever could.

In the midst of a professional setting, she can feel his gaze on her with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller. His posture is perfect, his face neutral, but his eyes betray him. They follow her every movement, slowly, purposefully, as if he's undressing her without a single word. Every curve, every small shift, it all seems to catch his attention, and though he says nothing, she can tell he's imagining what lies beneath her attire.

It’s not just the physical proximity—though she can feel his attention like a tangible presence across the room—it’s the weight of it. A quiet hum of conversation surrounds them, but it fades into the background, drowned out by the sheer focus he has on her. The warmth on her skin is not from the room’s temperature, but from the heat of his eyes, calculating, assessing, undressing her in a way that makes her pulse quicken.

She’s aware of every movement, every flick of her hair or shift in her posture, knowing that even a slight gesture is noticed. His gaze is steady, unwavering, yet he says nothing, and somehow, that only makes it more powerful. His eyes say everything: he’s waiting, watching, and knowing exactly what effect he has on her.

The tension builds between them, a silent conversation happening through his stare. She tries to focus, but it’s impossible with the weight of his attention. Her breath catches, and when their eyes meet, she knows he can sense her struggle, the way his gaze smirks without moving.

Later, once they’re alone, he leans in with a quiet, controlled voice, the slightest trace of amusement in his tone: “You’ve been distracting me all day, my dove.”

V - Voyerism

( I know damn well he be watching you haha)

Cazador, with his dominant and observant nature, would likely express voyeurism in a way that ties into his need for control and power. His fascination with watching would not just be about physical desire, but also about studying his partner, observing how she reacts to different situations, and enjoying the vulnerability and openness she shows when unaware of being watched.

Here’s how Cazador might embody voyeurism:

Silent Observation: He would watch her in moments when she thinks she's alone, but he's nearby, hidden in shadows or behind a door, savoring the sight of her undisturbed and unaware of his gaze. His eyes would never leave her, carefully tracking every subtle movement she makes, every reaction, every breath. It's not just about the physical act of seeing her, but about gaining a deeper understanding of her vulnerability and desires.

Silent Pleasure in Watching: Cazador finds satisfaction in knowing that he’s the only one allowed to witness her unguarded moments. Whether it's when she's alone in the garden, unaware of his presence, or in a private moment of self-care, he enjoys watching from afar. His presence isn’t always overt—sometimes it’s a lingering touch, sometimes it’s his eyes catching hers, letting her know he’s there, watching, observing.

Strategic Teasing: Cazador might create situations where he indirectly encourages her to reveal herself to him. For example, perhaps he leaves the door slightly ajar when she's changing, knowing she doesn’t realize he's watching. His gaze would be intense, capturing every curve and detail, and he would feed off the tension, enjoying her gradual realization that he’s been there all along.

W - Weakness

(I know its fluff womp womp)

Cazador's weakness is deeply tied to his loyalty and desire to care for his partner, especially in moments when she’s most vulnerable. His actions in those times show a softer, more protective side of him that contrasts with his usual persona. In these moments his love is truly abundant and shown , which contrast his usual stoic and charming demeanour.

His Reactions to Her Pain or Hurt: If something causes her emotional pain, whether it’s a personal issue, a physical injury, or even something that she’s struggling to express, Cazador’s first instinct is to make her feel safe again. His immediate response is to clear his schedule and ensure she’s in his presence for the day, offering his full attention and support. He doesn’t need to be asked. He’s immediately aware of her needs and can’t stand the idea of her feeling alone or unprotected.

The Desire to Fix: One of his weaknesses is his desire to fix whatever is wrong when it comes to his partner. If she’s upset, in distress, or vulnerable in any way, Cazador feels compelled to take charge of the situation, to make her feel better, to heal whatever emotional wound she may be carrying. This could include anything from listening to her talk, giving her his full attention, or even taking care of her physically by pampering her, such as running a bath for her or preparing food. This side of him is gentle, but in a way that is almost foreign to him—he’s used to giving orders, not offering care.

X - Ray

Cazador stands at an imposing height, somewhere between 6'2" and 6'5", towering over most people. His tall stature is complemented by a lean yet muscular build, honed through years of strength and discipline. His presence is magnetic, and his height only adds to the commanding aura he exudes, making him hard to ignore.

( I FEEL LIKE HES MINIMUM 7 inches, circumsized and thicc )

Y - Yours Forever

(I know you hate me, more fluff hehe)

Yours Forever represents a deeply profound declaration from Cazador. It’s more than just words—it's a vow he makes, a promise forged from years of self-control and calculated detachment, yet it speaks to his true, unspoken feelings. The very essence of his being, often guarded and cold, softens when he is with her. His loyalty, though not given easily, is unwavering when it is offered. To him, loyalty is not just an action; it’s a binding force. When he says, "Yours forever," it carries the weight of everything he has allowed himself to feel and offer her.

He doesn’t speak these words lightly; they're spoken during moments of deep trust, when the two are alone and vulnerable in each other’s presence. In those moments, Cazador understands that he is no longer just a solitary being, separate and untouchable—he is entwined with her.

He might say it softly, almost a whisper, after an intimate moment, his breath still lingering in the air between them, or during a time when they face a challenge together, where his resolve is tested. He may not need to say it all the time, because his actions speak louder—through his gaze, through his protective nature, through the way he ensures her safety, happiness, and comfort.

But when he does say it, it’s not about ownership in the possessive, controlling sense. It’s a deeper kind of possession—one of heart and soul. In his eyes, she becomes the center of his world, the only person who truly matters. His sense of ownership over her is not just physical but emotional, intellectual, spiritual—he treasures her in every sense. "Yours forever," is a declaration of commitment that lasts beyond this moment, beyond any trial they may face, and even beyond their lives together. It’s a promise that his loyalty will never waver, no matter the time, no matter the circumstances.

In the quiet, intimate moments, this declaration is a grounding force. When she’s anxious, when the world seems to turn against them, he reassures her with those simple, heavy words: “Yours forever.” It is his way of saying, no matter what, you’ll always have me.

Z - Zero Tolerance

No Surprises Without Consent: Cazador dislikes anything that catches him off guard in the heat of the moment, particularly anything that violates the agreement made between him and his partner. Whether it’s unannounced physical boundaries being crossed or unexpected emotional confrontations, he expects full transparency and mutual understanding at all times.

Clear Safe Words: Cazador places immense value on safety and trust in his relationship. He insists on having clear, agreed-upon safe words or signals, making it clear that play can stop at any moment if something becomes too overwhelming or uncomfortable. His need for control extends to making sure his partner feels both cared for and secure at all times.

Disrespect: Cazador has little tolerance for disrespect, especially when it’s directed towards his partner or their relationship. He sees it as a direct challenge to his authority and the bond they share. Any sign of disrespect—whether from outsiders or within their dynamic—will immediately be addressed with intensity. Trust and honour are paramount to him.

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Fin !

I know I went overboard but once I started I couldn't stop lol

Please like/reblog if you enjoyed : )

Also I think this SONG is so sexy and mysterious if you ignore the fact that they're talking about God in the comments LOL. Im like over here thinking about dirty things haha.

Siren

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 cazador #bg3 cazador szarr #cazador x reader #NSFW #cazador x tav #cazador szarr #cazador bg3

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siren-in-the-shadow · 18 days ago

Text

Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn:

Astarion X Reader

Chapter 5

Work Count: 3k Mentions: She/Her, Series, Not proofread! Chapter 4

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“What’s the verdict on my suitability as a spawn?”

Y/N chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, you silly Star. You’ve already read your file. What more could you possibly want?”

Astarion’s smile softened, and with a quiet chuckle, he stood and made his way to the table where the file lay. His eyes lingered on the neat lines of her notes, carefully written and organized. As he reached the last page, his expression shifted slightly, a hint of confusion flickering across his face. "Hmm," he murmured, gently flipping through the pages. "This can’t be all. There must be more to it than this." He scanned the file more carefully, as if searching for something that hadn’t been written. "You can’t possibly sum me up with just a few pages, can you?"

Y/N kept her tone steady, though there was a faint edge of warmth in her voice. "I didn’t include any... personal details in there," she said, glancing at the file with a hint of defensiveness. "It’s meant to be a professional overview, not some kind of emotional account." She paused, her eyes briefly meeting his before quickly looking away. "You know, to keep things... straightforward."

He flipped back to the beginning of the file, then forward again, his fingers brushing the pages with growing impatience. “There must be something else—some hidden talent, some remarkable skill you forgot to mention. I’m not that simple.”

Y/N’s laughter rose, soft and playful. “It sounds like you're fishing for a compliment, Astarion.”

He didn’t stop skimming, his gaze narrowing as he combed through the list again. “It’s simply unthinkable,” he said, feigning indignation. “You couldn’t possibly have overlooked my finer qualities.”

His fingers lingered on the parchment, but there was a strange hesitation in his movements. A moment passed, and then he let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. "You know," he began, voice a little quieter, more pensive, “you’ve said nothing about how handsome I am. Or how... how I might make you feel. No compliments, no remarks on... well, anything that might imply I’ve... left any kind of impression.”

She regarded him with an unreadable expression, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than usual. There was something in the air between them, a quiet expectation, as though she were considering something important. For just an instant, her thoughts seemed to drift—would today be the day she told him? The idea lingered, but she masked it with a slight shift in her demeanour, her eyes betraying nothing.

He set the list down gently, as if the file were suddenly too heavy in his hands. His eyes, which usually sparkled with charm and wit, now carried a hint of something far less certain. Astarion leaned forward, his voice lowering, almost uncertain. "It’s all so... professional, isn’t it? Nothing but cold facts. No warmth. Nothing personal.”

He cleared his throat, his usual smugness faltering slightly, and for a moment, there was a brief, almost awkward silence before he spoke again. “I... suppose I’m just curious. You’ve chosen all of them for reasons, yes, but what about me? How do you really see me, Y/N? Or is it... is it only about what I can do for you?” He looked at her, his gaze lingering longer than usual, as if silently begging for an answer, though he tried to hide it behind a flicker of his usual confident smirk.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just enough to show she was considering his words carefully. For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze steady as it met his, seemingly searching for something deeper.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again, her lips curling into a small, enigmatic smile. Her eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and something more—something unreadable.

Astarion’s expression shifted as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of curiosity and frustration. “There’s one thing I need to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice more serious now. “When you chose me, how did you view me in terms of suitability as a spawn? Was I just... another candidate? Another name on a list of traits and skills, something you could use for your own purpose?”

He paused, his gaze flickering down to the file in front of him, then back to her, his tone softening just a fraction. “I’ve read what you wrote, of course. But there’s something you didn’t put in there. Something you didn’t mention about me. I want to know what that is... What’s the real reason you chose me, beyond whatever cold, logical reason you gave?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her expression softening as she looked at him. For a moment, the usual walls she’d built between them seemed to fade, her gaze lingering on him with a quiet sincerity. “You bring me down to earth,” she said, her voice steady but carrying an unexpected weight.

Astarion blinked, clearly taken aback by her sudden honesty. He leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as if trying to process what she’d said. “Me? I bring you down to earth?” The question left his lips softly, his usual sharpness absent for once, replaced by genuine confusion—and something else. A quiet longing that flickered just beneath the surface, almost too quick to catch.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower now, almost pleading. “How? Please, Y/N... I need to understand. What do you mean?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her expression faltering for just a moment as she gathered her thoughts. She hesitated before speaking, her voice quieter now, laced with vulnerability she rarely showed. “I—I felt something when I saw you.” Her gaze dropped to the floor briefly, as if searching for the right words.

His gaze was pressing for answers so she continued.

"Long story short..." she trailed off, fumbling for a way to explain herself. "I guess I wanted you around... to remind me of my humanity. The fact that, one day, I might—well, you know... whatever." She shook her head slightly, her cheeks flushed with the awkwardness of it all.

Her hands fidgeted in her lap, the words coming out more softly, more raw. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could still feel. And I didn’t want to forget that... that I can still feel...”

Astarion blinked, his usual smirk faltering as he took in her words. His eyes softened, and for a moment, he said nothing, as though unsure how to react to something so raw.

“You...” He trailed off, his voice quieter now, almost uncertain. “You want me here to remind you of... feeling?” He shook his head, as if trying to wrap his mind around it, his brow furrowing slightly. “I didn’t think I could do that for anyone. Certainly not for you.”

He leaned back a little, his eyes never leaving her, studying her with something that was almost... reverence. “I’ve never been one to care about such things,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “But hearing you say that, it’s... it’s strange. I didn’t expect to be the one to remind you of that.”

Astarion’s gaze softened further, and he looked at her with a mixture of tenderness and confusion. “But... if I do that for you, then I suppose I’ll keep doing it. Even if I don’t fully understand how.”

"You sweet idiot," she said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, though her voice carried a quiet intensity. "I’m attracted to you. It reminds me of my humanity." She took a breath, her gaze steady but vulnerable. "To not just... drown myself in power."

She looked down for a moment, as if gathering herself before meeting his eyes again. "I look at you, and I’m reminded that I can still feel. No matter how cold I am, no matter how much I try to shut it off, you’re a small reminder that... one day, I could be free. That I could be normal again."

Astarion’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes as her words sank in. He wasn’t sure what to say at first, his mind caught between disbelief and something else—something much deeper.

“Me?” he whispered, almost as though testing the idea. “I remind you of... that?” His voice was quieter than usual, stripped of its usual sarcasm, replaced with something warmer, more uncertain.

He looked at her, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time. “I didn’t know I had that kind of power over you,” he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent. “But... if I can do that for you... If I remind you of what you’ve lost... then I...” He hesitated, his words softening further. “I’ll never forget it. I’ll be here. If that’s what you need.”

Astarion’s eyes widened slightly, as if the weight of her words was starting to settle into him. He looked at her, brows furrowing as he processed what she said, his expression shifting to something softer.

“Back then...” He trailed off for a moment, almost lost in thought. “You didn’t need much, did you? Just... me existing was enough for you.”

There was a quiet vulnerability in his voice, something far more honest than he often let slip. He leaned forward a little, his voice low, almost tender. “Your rogue skills were plenty,” he repeated, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “But I never thought I could be what you needed.”

“I didn’t need you for that purpose,” she said, her voice steady and cold, the walls she’d built around herself slipping back into place. “You were skilled, and that’s what I sought. An exceptional spy, nothing more. You fulfilled that role beautifully.” She paused for a beat, her gaze hardening as she masked the vulnerability creeping in. “The... humanity part,” she added, her tone distant, “was a surprise. A pleasant one, but unexpected.”

Astarion’s eyes flickered for a moment, his expression tightening ever so slightly, before he masked it with a quiet chuckle. “Is that what I was to you?” he asked softly, as if testing the weight of her words. “Just... a tool? Something to be used?”

His gaze dropped briefly, as though to collect himself, before meeting her eyes again, this time with a touch more uncertainty. “I suppose I always knew I was good at filling roles,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “But I didn’t realize that’s all I was to you.”

Y/N straightened, her gaze hardening as she met his intense stare. Her voice was cool, cutting through the air like ice. “Yes,” she said, her words sharp, almost biting. “You’re just a tool. Don’t forget your place just yet.”

She glanced away quickly, as if the words had stung her more than they should have, and without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and walked briskly to the window. Standing there, her back to him, she pressed her hands lightly against the cool glass. The view outside did little to soothe her, but it gave her a moment of distance—a breath to steady herself, to bury the turmoil that bubbled under her cold facade.

Astarion’s eyes flickered with pain as her words hit him harder than he’d expected. For a brief moment, he froze, his expression faltering, as if the weight of her dismissal had physically knocked the wind out of him.

But it didn’t last long. He straightened up, his jaw clenching as his brows furrowed with a sharp, almost imperceptible tremble of frustration. The hurt quickly dissolved into something else—something darker.

He took a slow, deliberate step toward her, his presence growing heavier, until he stood just behind her at the window. His voice was low and tense when he spoke, laced with quiet rage.

“Is that what you think of me?” His words were like ice, cold and cutting. “Just a tool to be discarded when it suits you?”

Y/N’s back was still turned to him, her fingers gripping the edge of the window sill as she stared out into the distance. She didn’t need to look at him to feel the weight of his gaze, the fury that simmered just behind his words.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm—too calm, as though she were trying to convince herself as much as him.

“Yes,” she said, her tone sharp, cutting through the tense air between them. The word was simple, blunt, and final. She didn’t turn to face him, instead allowing the distance to stretch between them as her walls locked back into place.

Astarion’s gaze darkened, his frustration building as her cold words cut through the space between them. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe it.

He took a step forward, his voice low but firm, each word filled with conviction. “I refuse to believe that,” he said, the rawness in his tone betraying the battle he was fighting within himself. “You can’t just discard everything we’ve shared, everything I’ve done for you, and pretend it means nothing.”

He paused, taking another step closer, his eyes searching hers, looking for something—anything—that might tell him she didn’t truly feel this way. “I won’t accept that,” he repeated, his voice softer now, but still carrying the weight of his defiance.

Before she could respond, Astarion’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and spinning her to face him. His grip tightened around her hand, the pressure almost too much as he pulled her in closer.

“You’re terribly confusing, you know that?” he hissed, his voice low and tight with emotion. “One moment, I’m just a tool to be used, the next... you say things that don’t make any sense.”

His breath came quicker now, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that bordered on desperation. He leaned in slightly, his face just inches from hers as the anger bled into something more raw, more vulnerable.

“Do you like me or not, Y/N?” he demanded, his voice cracking with frustration. “Because right now, I can’t make sense of any of it.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice shaking slightly as she finally met his gaze. "I... You don’t make things easy for me, Star," she said, her tone softer but filled with frustration. "I care about you deeply, but fuck... there are things I can't do, things I can't say. You don’t understand. I am not free”

She took a step back, running a hand through her hair in agitation, as if trying to calm the storm of emotions rising within her. "It’s not as simple as you think. There are things I need to keep buried, things I can’t risk. You’re... you’re not just some tool to me, but I can’t let it go any further. Not right now."

She turned her head away for a moment, trying to gather herself, the vulnerability she was showing threatening to break her composure. "I can’t just be honest with you in the way you want me to, not with everything at stake."

Astarion stood frozen for a moment, her words sinking into him with a sharp ache. The way she said them—like they were weighted with something far heavier than just confusion—struck him deeply. For a moment, he could only stare at her, his thoughts swirling, trying to make sense of everything she had just admitted.

He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his expression softer now, though still edged with frustration. "So, it’s not that simple, then?" His voice was quieter, almost as if he was trying to process her response. "You care about me, but there are things you can’t say, things you can't do." He swallowed, his gaze flickering over her face as if searching for a clue to what exactly was holding her back.

He took a step closer, his usual confident smirk replaced with something softer, more searching. “So that’s it then?” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. “You care about me, but there are things I can’t understand? Things I’m not allowed to know?”

His hand twitched, as if wanting to reach out to her but unsure of how to bridge the distance she was keeping between them.

Y/N took a deep breath, her gaze firm yet conflicted. "I care for you, Astarion," she said, her voice low, "but we can't talk about this right now. I’m not allowed to. We need to break the curse completely first. Once your brothers are back, and the meeting’s done, we can figure it out."

She looked up at him, her expression softening just slightly as she stepped back, her words tinged with a mixture of frustration and something more tender. "Just... be patient. Wait until then. Be a good boy."

The words lingered in the air, a command and a plea, as she turned her back on him, the weight of what was unsaid hanging between them.

Astarion’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he processed her words. A bitter smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His voice was low and sharp, the frustration seeping through.

"Patience, Y/N?" He shook his head slightly, his tone colder than usual. "How convenient. I’ve been waiting for you for years, and now you ask for more patience?" He took a step forward, his presence imposing. "You tell me you care, but you keep pushing me away, making me wait, making me question whether it’s all just another role you need me to play."

His gaze softened only slightly, the hurt buried beneath his sharp words. "And now, you want me to wait until the curse is broken, until the meeting’s over, until everything is done… Like I’m some kind of... afterthought." He exhaled, voice quieter now, tinged with frustration. “I thought you said you cared.”

With that, he turned toward the door, his back still facing her as he spoke, his voice softer but laced with a quiet resolve. "So go ahead, take your time. I’ll wait. But you won’t get rid of me." The door clicked softly behind him as he stepped out, leaving the silence between them to stretch.

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Thank you for reading ! Ive been so busy with school I just wanted to pump this out for y'all hahah

This is not proof read! dont hate meee lol

Siren X

#astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion x reader #Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn #The Thirteenth Spawn #astarion x female tav #astarion x tiefling #astarion x the dark urge

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siren-in-the-shadow · 28 days ago

Text

Twisted Fate: Cazador X Reader

Chapter 5

Mentions: She/Her, Series, Slow Burn

Word Count: 2k

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The cottage looked like something out of a storybook, snugly nestled within a patch of wildflowers. Smoke drifted lazily from a stone chimney, and the sweet scent of herbs lingered in the air. Every corner of the cottage seemed draped in something charming—a wreath of dried lavender on the door, little hand-painted pots of herbs on the windowsills, and a quaint wooden sign above the door that read, “Knock, and enter as friends.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up with wonder. “Isn’t it adorable?”

Cazador scowled, looking entirely out of place amidst the cottage’s charm. “Adorable isn’t the word I’d use.”

They stepped up to the door, which opened before they even had a chance to knock. Standing there was a rotund, robed figure with twinkling eyes and a disheveled shock of white hair. He held a steaming cup of tea in one hand and offered them a friendly wave with the other.

“Welcome, welcome!” the wizard boomed, his voice deep and full of warmth. “Well, don’t just stand there, come in, come in! It’s no good lurking on the doorstep like lost ducklings.” I’ve just put the kettle on. Mint tea, anyone? Or are you more of the ‘mystery brew’ type?”

Y/N stifled a laugh, charmed immediately, while Cazador looked around with barely concealed disdain.

Y/N paused at the threshold, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and apprehension. She glanced around the cozy interior, taking in the myriad of trinkets and bubbling concoctions that filled the space. “I’m really sorry for coming unannounced,” she said, her voice steadying as she met the wizard’s warm gaze. “We didn’t mean to disrupt anything. We’re in need of help with something important.” Her expression turned earnest, the weight of their predicament reflected in her eyes. “I hope it’s not too much trouble to ask for your guidance. It’s... a matter of some urgency.”

The wizard beamed at Y/N, his eyes sparkling with kindness. “Oh, no worries at all, my dear! I live for helping those in need!” He waved his hand dismissively, as if to brush aside any concern. “It’s not every day I get visitors, especially ones who seem so eager to learn.” He stepped back, gesturing for them to enter. “Now, come in, come in! Let’s see what we can figure out together.”

Meanwhile, Cazador stood slightly apart, arms crossed and an unimpressed look etched across his face. He rolled his eyes at the wizard’s overly cheerful demeanor, muttering under his breath, “Of course he loves to help. Who wouldn’t want to play the part of the kind old wizard?” His skepticism hung in the air, but he kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to dampen Y/N’s newfound enthusiasm.

Cazador stepped forward, his posture shifting from indifference to authority as he addressed the wizard. “We’re here because we’ve been cursed,” he said, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “Both of us have these sigils carved into our wrists.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the intricate mark that bound him to Y/N. “We don’t know what they mean, but they cause us pain when we get too close to each other. It’s... unacceptable.”

The wizard’s brows furrowed in concern as he leaned closer, examining the sigils with great interest. “Cursed, you say? That’s quite troubling indeed. I’ve never seen markings quite like these before.” He looked up at Cazador, his expression shifting to one of earnest curiosity. “And you’ve come to me for help? Ah, how delightful! We can certainly explore this further together.”

Cazador nodded, his jaw set in determination. “We need to understand what this curse means and how we can break it,” he stated, his voice steady but edged with urgency. The intensity in his gaze contrasted sharply with the wizard’s earlier cheerfulness, creating a palpable tension in the cozy space. Y/N stood beside him, sensing the seriousness of their situation as Cazador took control of the conversation, his posture unyielding and assertive, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

The wizard nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the weight of Cazador’s words. “Ah, I see. Let me get my glasses; I’ll need them for this.” He turned and shuffled toward a nearby shelf, rummaging through drawers filled with an assortment of oddities—scrolls, trinkets, and a rather bewildering collection of colorful stones. “They’re always in the last place I look!” he muttered with a chuckle. “Or maybe it’s just that I forget where I put them! You’d think I’d learn after all these years.

As the wizard searched, Y/N gazed out into the wizard’s backyard, where colorful wildflowers danced in the gentle breeze. A soft giggle escaped her lips, and Cazador’s gaze shifted to her. He watched her, momentarily captivated by the way her body relaxed, her chest rising and falling gracefully with each breath. His shoulders instinctively relaxed for a few moments, the tension of their predicament slipping away just a little as he took in her unguarded joy. But he quickly masked the brief moment, returning his focus to the wizard as he resumed his search.

After a moment of rummaging, the wizard emerged from behind the shelf, his round glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. He adjusted them with a grin and waved Y/N over, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Ah, there we go! Now, let’s take a look at those sigils again, shall we?”

Y/N stepped forward and joined Cazador, standing close beside him as the wizard approached. He leaned in closer, examining their wrists where the sigils were etched into their skin. The wizard’s brow furrowed in concentration as he traced the patterns with his finger, a mix of curiosity and concern on his face. “Fascinating… very intriguing indeed,” he murmured, glancing between the two of them.

Cazador stood resolute, arms crossed, his gaze steady. Y/N could feel the tension in him, even as the wizard continued his examination. “What can you tell us about them?” Cazador asked, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of impatience.

He reached out a gnarled hand, his fingertips brushing over the faint, intricate sigils that shimmered faintly on their skin. His eyes widened slightly, a spark of intrigue lighting up his gaze. “Ah, fascinating, fascinating! This is some very old magic, indeed. The craftsmanship is remarkable. Could bind two people together for a lifetime… or perhaps just a week! Or a season or two. Hard to say, really.” He peered up at Cazador, his face full of innocent curiosity. “Tell me, does she always have that spark in her eye?”

Y/N bit back a laugh, finding the wizard's antics charming. However, she noticed Cazador's jaw tighten visibly at the wizard's comment. He shifted in his chair, his eyes narrowing into a piercing glare. “Are you actually capable of reading this sigil, or are you just wasting our time?” Cazador's voice was low, but the urgency was clear.

The wizard chuckled, seemingly unfazed by Cazador's intensity. “Oh, my dear boy, this is ancient magic—one your old man cannot even decipher! I would never waste your time. However, I’m afraid I’m not quite familiar with these particular markings. What I do know is that they’re steeped in powerful magic, and for that, we need to consult someone far more experienced than I. You’re in luck I know a friend!”

Cazador's frustration boiled over, and he stepped closer, his voice a low hiss. “Are you telling me we’ve come all this way just to hear that? We need answers, not riddles! If your friend is the only one who can help, then we need to go to him, now.” His eyes narrowed, revealing the raw intensity of his frustration as he glared at the wizard.

Y/N could sense the tension building in the room, a stark contrast to the cozy charm of the cottage. She placed a hand on Cazador’s arm, attempting to calm him, but he remained fixated on the wizard, unwilling to let go of the urgency that drove them here.

Y/N looked up at him, her expression softening. “Hey, take a deep breath,” she said gently. “Did you really expect the local wizard to cure us, just like that? This is bigger than we thought…” She paused, searching his face for understanding, hoping to ground him amidst the whirlwind of emotions. “We need to approach this with a clear head.”

Cazador hesitated, the fire in his eyes flickering for a moment. He clenched his jaw, fighting to temper his impatience, but Y/N’s calm demeanor made it slightly easier to breathe.

Cazador let out a slow breath, visibly attempting to rein in his emotions. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he straightened his posture. “Fine,” he said, his tone begrudging but more composed. “What do we do now? Where is this friend of yours?”

The wizard’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and he rubbed his hands together as if warming them by an imaginary fire. “Ah, splendid! My friend lives in a quaint little village not too far from here. He’s a bit eccentric, but his knowledge of the arcane is unmatched—trust me, you’ll find him quite helpful.”

Cazador remained stoic, his brow furrowing as he considered their next move. “Where is this friend of yours?” he repeated, cutting through the wizard’s exuberance.

The wizard beamed, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Oh, it’s a lovely little place called Baldur’s Gate! You’ll find a wealth of knowledge there.”

Cazador's expression darkened, and he muttered a curse under his breath. “Really? The farthest village from this one?” His tone dripped with disbelief, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Of all places, it had to be Baldur's Gate?”

Y/N glanced between them, sensing the rising tension. “Cazador, if this wizard truly has the cure we’re looking for, then the journey will be worth it… right?”

Cazador shot her a sidelong glance, his expression laced with irritation. “Baldur’s Gate is full of watchful eyes, and now we’re set on a long, winding path to get there. We’ll have to tread carefully the whole way, especially with…” He trailed off, the weight of their predicament pressing down on them both.

The wizard, seemingly unfazed by Cazador’s agitation, chuckled lightly. “Oh, my dear boy, you worry too much! Baldur’s Gate has its dangers, sure , but it also holds opportunities. Knowledge and power are found in abundance there. You’ll be safe if you keep your wits about you.”

Y/N nodded, trying to lift the spirits around them. “If we’re making this journey, we might as well enjoy it. I’ve heard they have the best butter beers in Baldur’s Gate!”

The wizard interjected, his voice bubbling with excitement. “Aha! That’s the spirit! Together you are a force! And who knows, perhaps your journey will lead to more than just answers. Adventures await!”

Cazador let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. “Yes, but it’s not just about us anymore. The sigils… whatever they mean, they could attract unwanted attention. I’d rather not waste time on a long journey when all I want is to get to the bottom of this without drawing too much notice.”

Y/N chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Adventures, huh? Like what? Getting chased by a dragon?”

Cazador shot her a mean look, half-amused despite himself. “Let’s hope not.”

The wizard waved his hands dramatically. “Oh, but wouldn’t that be something? You’d have quite the tale to tell over a cup of tea!” He beamed at them, clearly unfazed by the prospect of danger.

Cazador let out a loud sigh, his annoyance palpable. “Great, let’s just grab what we need and get moving. The sooner we leave this delightful spot and head to a city teeming with prying eyes, the better. I can hardly wait.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note:

Thank you for reading !

Posted this Chapter from my iPhone, hope it looks aight haha

Please like/reblog if you enjoyed :)

-Siren

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 cazador #bg3 cazador szarr #cazador x reader #baldurs gate 3 cazador #cazador x tav #twisted fate #Twisted Fate Series

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siren-in-the-shadow · 29 days ago

Text

Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn:

Astarion X Reader

Chapter 4

Word Count: 2.4k Mentions: Mature Content, She/Her, Series

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by her question. “Upset?” he echoed, his voice dropping to a gentler tone as he shook his head. “No... I’m not upset with you.” His gaze lingered on hers for a moment before he looked away, almost as if the admission was too much. In a barely audible whisper, he added, “I could never hate you.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s just... strange. I’ve never been seen like that before, with so much detail, so much...detail . It’s overwhelming, not in a bad way, but it’s still a lot to take in.” He glanced back at her, his expression softening. “You gave me more purpose than I even knew I needed.

Astarion’s brows furrowed as he watched her struggle with the weight of her guilt. For a moment, he said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them. Then, with a soft sigh, he stepped closer, his voice steady but filled with quiet emotion.

“I’m not upset with you,” he began, shaking his head slightly. “If anything, I’m… relieved.”

Y/N’s eyes widened with surprise as she looked up at him. “Star…” she started, but her words faltered.

“Yes, you took my freedom, but…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Before you, I knew exactly who I was, and I didn’t like that person. I was lost, drifting, and alone. You gave me purpose, something to fight for. And in the time I’ve spent with you, I’ve grown into the man I always wanted to be—strong, loyal, and… important.”

He paused, his voice softening as he continued, “You didn’t take everything from me, Y/N. In many ways, you gave me back a life that had meaning. I’m not your victim. I’m your choice, and that means something to me.”

Astarion’s gaze softened, his words sincere as he added, “I’m not upset. I’m happy”

Astarion cleared his throat and glanced at her before continuing, his eyes scanning over the next section of her notes.

She remains quiet, nodding when he looks up at her occasionally, understanding that he needs time to process. She’s always willing to wait for him.

“Observations on Astarion…” he muttered, almost to himself. The first few words made his brow furrow, but he pressed on, feeling the weight of her attention on him.

Morning Routine: Astarion typically rises early, often before dawn. I’ve noticed he spends a few moments staring out at the horizon, lost in thought. This quiet reflection seems to ground him before the chaos of the day begins.

He chuckled softly, a little embarrassed. "You’ve been watching me longer than I realized, haven’t you?" He shook his head but continued reading.

Self-Care: His grooming habits are meticulous. Astarion takes great care in maintaining his appearance, often spending time adjusting his hair and attire to ensure he looks presentable. This attention to detail speaks to his desire for a polished image and his understanding of the power of first impressions.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Well, I can’t say that’s inaccurate. First impressions are everything." His hand instinctively brushed over his hair.

Social Interactions: Throughout the day, Astarion engages with various individuals in the local taverns and markets. While he is charming and sociable, I can sense an underlying loneliness in his interactions. He flirts and banters with others, but there’s a distance in his eyes, as if he’s afraid to let anyone too close.

He paused, the smirk fading from his lips. "She’s not wrong," he whispered under his breath, eyes scanning over the words again before he pushed forward.

Skills on Display: He frequently demonstrates his skills as a rogue, whether picking locks, pocketing items, or slipping through crowded spaces unnoticed. I observed him lift a few trinkets from unsuspecting patrons without them realizing. His movements are fluid and practiced, showcasing a talent for deception.

A small laugh escaped him. "I never was one to shy away from a challenge." He couldn’t help but take a bit of pride in her accurate description of his talents, but the weight of her watchful eye still lingered in the back of his mind.

Loneliness: Despite his charm, I often catch glimpses of his solitude. In quieter moments, I see him sitting alone in dark corners, watching others socialize with a wistful expression. It’s clear he longs for genuine companionship but remains guarded.

Astarion’s smile wavered, his voice quieter now. "Guarded… Yes, that’s one way of putting it." His fingers tightened around the edges of the file, and he swallowed, glancing at her briefly before returning to the page.

Intellectual Curiosity: Astarion has a sharp mind and engages in discussions about various topics, from politics to the latest rumors circulating in town. He often gathers information about potential targets or valuable opportunities. This intelligence, coupled with his charm, makes him a formidable player in the shadows.

His eyes skimmed over the words, a hint of amusement returning. "A ‘formidable player’... You’ve always known how to stroke my ego, haven’t you?"

She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head in amusement. "You really do have a knack for turning everything into a competition, don’t you?"

He smiled to himself and flipped to the next section, only to pause as the words took on a darker tone.

Evening Retreat: As night falls, Astarion tends to retreat to a secluded location—an old, abandoned building that serves as his hideout. Here, he appears more at ease. He often reviews his findings, plotting his next moves. It’s a stark contrast to the charismatic persona he projects during the day.

Astarion’s breath caught for a moment, his fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "I didn’t think anyone noticed that side of me." His tone was quieter now, more vulnerable.

Vulnerability: During my surveillance, I’ve caught him in moments of vulnerability. There are times when he leans against the wall of his hideout, running a hand through his hair, clearly overwhelmed. He seems to wrestle with his past and the weight of expectations he has placed on himself.

He closed his eyes briefly, his chest tightening. "I didn’t realize you saw that." His voice trembled slightly, but he continued.

Final Thoughts: Astarion’s life is a constant balancing act between his skills and his deeper emotional needs. He yearns for purpose and connection while navigating the dangerous world he inhabits. I can sense that beneath his bravado lies a man who has faced unimaginable trials and is searching for a way to belong.

Astarion bit his lip, the words hitting him harder than he anticipated. He lowered the page slightly, muttering under his breath. "Searching for a way to belong…"

He looked at her, his eyes full of unspoken questions. “You knew all of this about me before I even became one of your spawn. I never had a chance to hide anything from you, did I?” He laughed softly, though the sound was tinged with vulnerability.

Then his gaze softened, a look of gratitude mingled with uncertainty. "How… how did you see so much when I tried so hard to keep everyone out?"

She looked at him softly, her voice gentle as she spoke. “I’ve always had a way of seeing people.”

Astarion paused, absorbing her words. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a mix of gratitude and vulnerability surfacing in his gaze. “You make it sound almost... poetic,” he said, his voice softening. “I suppose that’s rare in my world, where everyone is busy hiding their truths behind elaborate masks.” He glanced away for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “It’s refreshing, really. To know someone sees me.

After a quiet breath, she added gently, “I know it’s a lot to take in. Please, take your time. And when you’re ready... ask me anything you need to understand. I'll be here."

He gave a slow nod, his gaze thoughtful. “I will,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Later. Just... need some time to think about it.” He paused, then looked at her with quiet resolve. “But first, I want to help you with this.” He lifted the files in his hand, a hint of determination in his gaze.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then spoke up, “You know, I’ve compiled notes on all 13 of you.

Astarion tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly as he observed her. “What’s troubling you?” he asked, concern threading through his voice. “You look a bit overwhelmed. Is it about sharing your notes with them?” He paused, allowing her a moment to gather her thoughts before continuing.

“I’m just not sure where to begin. Should I share everything in the files with your brothers, or maybe just a few key points?” Her brow furrowed slightly, a blend of anticipation and uncertainty in her gaze as she awaited his input.

He watched her in silence for a moment, seeming to consider his words carefully. “You know,” he began slowly, “sometimes it's less about the details and more about the reason behind it all.” He glanced down, as if gathering his thoughts. “They might not need to hear everything to understand you. Maybe it’s enough just to let them know why you care… why you’ve done all this for them.”

He looked back up, his gaze steady. “Sometimes, that’s all anyone really needs.”

She let out a deep sigh, rubbing her temples as the weight of the task ahead settled heavily on her. “I think I’ll share their purpose and why I chose them,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “Maybe that will help them understand.”

As she spoke, she caught his eye, and in that moment, she saw fire and hope dancing in his gaze. It ignited something within her, a flicker of confidence that she hadn’t expected.

“Whatever you decide, I’ll support you,” he replied, his tone sincere and unwavering.

She felt a warmth spread through her as she looked back at him, realizing how much his presence grounded her. “Thank you for being here,” she started, but then she cut herself off, shaking her head slightly to refocus. She needed to concentrate on the task ahead. Despite everything weighing on her shoulders, she found an unexpected comfort in the intensity of his gaze, as if they were sharing a secret that could only be understood between them.

He was taken aback by her sudden vulnerability but decided not to press her any further. Astarion, ever perceptive, tilted his head slightly and met her gaze. “If it would help, I can jot down the list for you,” he offered, his voice soft yet filled with eagerness to support her.

She blinked, surprised by the suggestion but grateful. A soft smile tugged at her lips. "That... might actually be a good idea," she admitted, letting out a breath.

She stood up and walked over to her desk, pulling out a pen and a stack of paper. Returning to where Astarion sat, she handed them over before settling beside him. Their shoulders brushed lightly as she sat down, and for a moment, she simply stared at the blank page, gathering her thoughts.

Astarion clicked the pen, his eyes full of quiet anticipation. "Ready when you are," he said, his voice steady, though a hint of excitement lingered beneath it.

She nodded "Fuck it", exhaling slowly, "Let's start with Wyll.”

"Wyll is a warlock," she began, her tone steady as she focused on Astarion. "He’s incredibly proficient with spellcasting and has a natural affinity for magic. I've always admired his ability to think clearly and make sound decisions, which is why I knew I needed his better judgment on my side."

Astarion nodded, his expression serious as he listened. "That makes sense. Someone like Wyll could provide a solid foundation for the team. Who’s next?" He leaned in slightly, genuinely curious about her insights.

“Gale is also highly proficient in casting spells,” she continued, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the paper. “But he comes from a different background than Wyll. I thought their contrasting experiences would complement each other well, allowing them to think creatively together. Plus, I knew they would both be invaluable in helping me break my own curse.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sounds like a dynamic duo but isn’t Theodore a wizard too?”

“Yes, my Theo,” she said, her voice steady as she continued. “He’s my last wizard. I needed a diverse group of skilled spell casters to truly understand my curse, and Theo... he’s truly a genius—a perfect blend of Gale’s creativity and Wyll’s practicality.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow, a hint of jealousy flickering in his expression. “Your Theo, is it?” he said, his tone laced with a playful edge. “Sounds like quite the formidable combination. I can only imagine how captivating their discussions must be.” He leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. “And what about the rest of your merry band? Surely you have a few more surprises up your sleeve.”

“My barbarians—Sylvir and Orin,” she continued, her tone thoughtful. “I needed them for their physical strength, but it was more than that. I noticed how Sylvir approached challenges analytically, while Orin was more emotional. I thought they could help balance each other out, and they really do work beautifully together.”

Astarion smiled knowingly. “Ah, Sylvir and Orin. I’ve seen how well they complement each other. They really do bring out the best in one another.”

“Then there’s Leo,” she said, a fond smile creeping onto her face. “I noticed he has the biggest heart and can be a total softie. I wanted to give him something to care for, especially considering his druid talents. He’s the support you boys have when I can’t be there, not to mention an amazing fighter.”

“Aah, yes, that seven-foot-tall beast,” Astarion said, an incredulous smirk forming on his lips. “You really think he’s soft?” He leaned back, arms crossed, his tone teasing yet edged with jealousy. “How reassuring it must be to have him around, ready to pounce at any moment for you."

As she sat beside him, staring out the window, lost in thought and too absorbed in her own world to notice his shifting demeanour.

“Then there’s our other druid, Fang—sharp and precise, just like his name,” she continued. “I needed him for his keen accuracy and unwavering focus. In stark contrast to Leo, his wolf form makes for the perfect counterbalance. Both predators, both beasts yet so unique.”

Astarion nodded, encouraging her. “Mhm, yes, because nothing says ‘unique’ quite like two feral creatures ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. How charming..”

She playfully pushed his arm and giggled, “You’re very rude to your brothers!”

Astarion chuckled, concealing how much he enjoyed her touch. “What? They can handle it,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

“...Next, we have my healers, Ronan and Vorn. Both are tall, strong, and muscular, which might lead you to underestimate their delicate skills. Yet, their contrasting approaches create a perfect balance, and they complement each other exceptionally well.”

Astarion stole a few glances at her, trying to remain subtle, his interest piqued. He cleared his throat, quickly redirecting his focus. “Right, so you’ve covered Ronan and Vorn. Who’s next on your list?” he asked, eager to keep the conversation flowing

“Next is Ranger,” she continued, her expression thoughtful. “He’s my only monk, and I believed he would be an excellent teacher for you all to practice inner peace and develop your skills more deeply. I wanted each of you to reach your full potential, and his level of expertise in wistfulness is remarkable.”

Astarion's expression softened with understanding as he contemplated the value of having a monk in their ranks. “He had been a positive influence on me,” he said, nodding slightly. “I can see how he’d guide the others in finding balance. Now, who’s next on your list?”

“Finally, we have the rogues,” she said, her voice brightening slightly. “I needed their cunning and agility to navigate the shadows effectively.”

Astarion’s interest piqued, and he leaned in a little closer, eager to hear more. “Ohh...? Do tell.”

“Axel,” she began, a hint of admiration in her tone. “He’s a natural thief, agile and adept at sneaking around and stealing. As an assassin, he’s incredibly lethal, often striking before his enemies even realize he’s there. What’s more, he blends magic with thievery as an arcane trickster, using spells to manipulate his surroundings and confuse his foes.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow, “Sounds to me like you’ve developed quite the admiration for him. Should I be worried about my status as your favorite?” He slyly looked at her, his gaze searching hers for a reaction.

She raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance, but her heart raced in response to the weight of his gaze. “Oh, you think it’s you?” The words slipped from her lips with a playful lilt, but beneath the surface, they held a teasing challenge.

As she locked eyes with him, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the electric tension that crackled between them. Astarion’s confident smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by an awkward blink as if her words had caught him off guard. For just a heartbeat, the carefully curated facade he wore slipped, revealing the uncertainty that lay beneath. He straightened up, suddenly hyperaware of how close he had leaned, his playful bravado faltering.

“Really now,” he began, but the playful tone was gone, replaced by a hint of vulnerability. “If it isn’t me, then who could possibly capture your interest so completely?” His voice came out a bit too light, almost nervous, betraying an emotion he didn’t often allow himself to feel.

She caught a glimpse of the Astarion that lay beneath—the one who cared, who was genuinely curious, and maybe even a little scared. His gaze darted to the side, as if he suddenly found the wall behind her intensely fascinating.

She found herself just staring at him, observing every detail, contemplating whether she should share her honest thoughts.

But just as quickly, he collected himself, clearing his throat to regain that familiar edge. “Ah, well, you know, I’m certainly not suggesting I’m the only option.” He waved a dismissive hand, attempting to brush off the moment with a light-hearted chuckle, but the slight tremor in his voice lingered, revealing the fragility of his usual confidence.

She smirked, the playful glint in her eyes returning. “Anyways!” she exclaimed, her tone light and teasing. “Now, shall we move on to the last member?”

Astarion took a moment to compose himself, the embarrassment of wanting to be her favorite flickering through him like a candle’s flame. He shook off the feeling, reassuring himself that he could recover from it effortlessly. Just as he regained his usual poise, his gaze flicked down to the list and widened in surprise as he realized he had reached #13.

A sly smirk spread across his lips, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. With a flourish, he confidently wrote his name on the page, the ink gliding smoothly beneath his pen. He leaned back, satisfaction radiating from him as he regarded her, as if to say he knew he deserved that spot.

Astarion’s sly smirk deepened as he finished writing, and he glanced at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ah, the Thirteenth Spawn,” he said, his tone dripping with playful arrogance.

He pauses for a moment, tapping the pen against the paper, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, how very fortunate for me to be the grand finale,” he quips, looking up at her with a teasing smile. “What’s the verdict on my suitability as a spawn?”

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Authors Note:

Hello darling, Thank you for reading!

I don't know how to feel about this chapter RAAA, enjoy the rough draft. Ill probably edit it later tonight but for now enjoy the mess haha!

-Siren xoxo

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #The Thirteenth Spawn #Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn

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siren-in-the-shadow · 1 month ago

Text

Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn:

Astarion X Reader

Chapter 3

Word Count: 2.6k Mentions: Mature Content, She/Her, Series Chapter 1: Here Chapter 2: Here

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Astarion’s heart raced as Y/N released him, her fingertips lingering on his arms for just a moment longer, as if she were reluctant to let go. “I’m not sure how to enjoy the day without you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in his tone wrapped around him like a warm cloak, tinged with an unexpected desperation.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening as she studied the emotions swirling in his eyes.

“You have your freedom now, Astarion. This is your chance to discover who you are beyond… all of this.” She gestured around them, her sweeping motion embracing the weight of their shared past, a silent acknowledgment of the chains that had bound him for so long.

Astarion’s brow furrowed as he absorbed her words, each syllable tugging at the strands of uncertainty woven tightly in his chest.

His gaze dropped to the floor, as if the memories of his past were etched into the very stones beneath their feet.

“Can’t we just spend the day together?” he continued, his voice thick with yearning. “I could help you with whatever you need.” The plea hung in the air, heavy with longing, the thought of her absence suddenly unbearable. He didn’t want this—not when freedom would taste lonely without her.

Astarion looked into her eyes, searching for reassurance, a lifeline in the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

Y/N hesitated, her expression shifting as she considered his request. “I’ll be doing boring, silent work today,” she replied, a hint of amusement touching her lips. “Is that truly what you want? To sit with me while I write?”

She arched an eyebrow playfully, the warmth of her smile flickering in the air between them. “You might find it rather dull compared to whatever adventures await you outside these walls.”

Astarion’s smile softened, his gaze lingering on her as he considered his words. “I knew exactly who I was before you,” he began, his voice quieter, more vulnerable. “I was a thief—just a shell, surviving day to day causing chaos. I didn’t like who I was… not until you. With you, I’ve grown into the man I always wanted to be—strong, loyal, and… important.”

His eyes flickered with emotion, a rare openness in his expression. “You gave me that.. You gave me purpose, and even now that I’m free, I don’t want to just walk away. I want to stay by your side today, even if it’s boring or quiet. It’s in those moments with you that I feel more like myself.”

He offered a small smile, stepping a little closer. “So, even if you’re just working in silence, let me be there. I can think of nothing better than spending the day with you, no matter what it looks like.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her gaze lingering on him for a moment. “Alright, if that’s truly what you want…” she said, her tone gentle but thoughtful.

She crossed her arms, glancing toward her desk where scattered papers and half-written notes lay. “But just so you know, it’s going to be a lot of quiet time. I’ll just be going through my notes, trying to gather my thoughts for later tonight. Nothing exciting, no grand adventures.” She gave him a small smile, as if to soften the reality of what he was asking for.

Astarion hesitated for a moment, trying to temper his excitement. "I could, uh, help you... if you'd like," he offered, his tone more careful now. "I can go through your files, pull out notes—make the process quicker for you." He glanced away briefly, as though trying to play off the casualness of his offer. "That way, you won’t have to do all the boring work alone." There was a flicker of something in his eyes—eagerness, maybe, but buried under his attempt to be useful without pressing too much.

Y/N glanced at him, her eyes thoughtful. "Maybe it is a good idea," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "It could help to bounce some ideas off you. And… if I could get your advice, that might make this whole process easier."

Astarion’s eyes lit up, though he kept his excitement restrained, offering a small, pleased smile instead of the grin that threatened to break through. "Of course," he said, his voice calm but with an undertone of eagerness. "I’d be happy to help however I can. You’ve done so much for me, for all of us… If I can offer even a little support, it’s the least I could do."

(If Astarion had a tail it would be wagging rn )

Y/N gave him a small, thoughtful look before gesturing towards a stack of folders. "Alright, if you're so eager to help," she said with a faint smile. "Could you pull the very first file I wrote? It should be in the purple folder, all the way in the back."

Her tone was light, teasing him a little, but there was an underlying sincerity in her words. She seemed almost relieved to have someone by her side as she worked through her thoughts.

Astarion nodded, a glimmer of eagerness in his eyes as he tried to keep his expression composed. "Of course," he replied, his voice steady but with a hint of excitement. "I’ll find it right away." He walked towards her filing cabinets, careful and deliberate in his movements, as if this small task meant more to him than simply organizing papers.

He glanced back at her briefly, his lips curling into a subtle smile. "Purple folder, all the way in the back. Got it."

As Astarion rummaged through the cluttered files, his fingers brushed against various textures and papers, his excitement mounting with each moment. Finally, he located the purple folder tucked away at the back, its vibrant color a stark contrast against the muted tones of the other files.

He pulled it out, momentarily captivated by the way it felt in his hands. Curiosity gnawed at him—should he read it? The very first file she ever wrote must hold significance, perhaps even secrets about her past or her thoughts. Would it be intrusive to delve into something so personal? He hesitated for a heartbeat, glancing over his shoulder to see if she was watching.

"I'm not sure if you want to read that," she cautioned, a hint of concern flickering across her features. "It might be… a little too personal." She bit her lip.

Astarion glanced at her, his curiosity piqued. "Personal or not, I’d like to think I know you well enough by now to handle whatever it is. Besides," he added with a teasing smirk, "there’s no harm in indulging a little intrigue, is there? Just promise me you won’t get upset if I find something particularly riveting." He winked, his playful tone easing the tension as he took a step closer to the purple folder.

“Go on and read it for me then,” she urged, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Just keep in mind that it’s… personal. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it once you do.”

Astarion took a moment, his fingers brushing against the folder’s edge. “You don’t have to worry about my reaction. I promise I’ll be respectful,” he assured her, a hint of seriousness creeping into his playful demeanor. With that, he opened the folder, his gaze falling on the neatly written pages inside.

He flipped through several pages detailing his brothers—“Blah blah blah,” he muttered under his breath, skimming impatiently—until his gaze snagged on a familiar name. “Aha! Astarion!” he exclaimed, a hint of excitement in his voice.

She looked up at him, a hint of concern in her eyes, but he reassured her with a steady, brave smile. For a moment, they spoke without words, a silent understanding passing between them.

“Oh, you started with my skills,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glances at the pages in front of him. His eyes flicker over the words, and he chuckles softly. “I should have known you’d be fascinated by my particular talents.” He leans in a bit closer, clearly intrigued, as he begins to read aloud the notes she’d written about him.

Y/Ns Notes:

Potential Spawn: Astarion Ancunin

• Skillful: Astarion is a master of stealth and deception, possessing exceptional skills that make him a valuable asset. I’ve seen how his agility and quick wit allow him to navigate difficult situations with ease. Trained as a rogue, he excels in persuasion, often charming his way out of trouble or gathering vital information without raising suspicion.

He takes a breath, letting the anticipation linger in the air before breaking into a genuine smile that lights up his features. “This is quite flattering,” he murmurs, his voice warm as he continues reading through the carefully detailed notes I had made about him. As he dives deeper into his "background," she can see his interest grow, each line revealing not just my observations but a deeper understanding of who he is.

Background: Astarion grew up as an only child, navigating a tumultuous household with his mother and father. Their relationship was strained, filled with conflict and expectations that often left him feeling isolated. Despite the chaos surrounding him, he made efforts to connect with his parents, longing for their affection even as he faced their emotional distance. This struggle to find love amidst turmoil shaped his complex personality and desire for validation.

He pauses, glancing up from the pages with a mix of surprise and curiosity in his eyes. “How did you know all of this about me?” he asks, his tone a blend of admiration and disbelief. The question hangs between us, inviting me to share the journey of my observations and the reasons behind my choices.

“I had to do my research on all of you to ensure you fit what I needed,” Y/N explains gently, her voice steady as she meets his gaze.

“But the next few things aren’t meant as flattery, Star. You don’t have to read them out loud.”

“No, please,” he insists, his eyes shining with determination. “I want to read it. I want to understand you more.”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze focused on the pages as he begins to read aloud. Each word seems to draw him deeper into my thoughts, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flitting across his face.

He begins reading aloud.

“Role: As a Rogue I’d assign him as a type of Agent/Spy. Astarion isn’t just a skilled operative; he embodies the archetype of a cunning strategist. His talents in manipulation and deception allow him to infiltrate circles that would otherwise be inaccessible. I can see how he excels at gathering intelligence, using his charm and wit to extract information that could be pivotal for my plans. His unique skill set makes him a perfect candidate for missions requiring discretion and tactical finesse.”

He pauses briefly, a smirk playing on his lips before reading again.

“Purpose: Despite his intelligence and cunning, Astarion’s loneliness speaks volumes about his deeper needs. He’s observant and knows that his skills and charm can only take him so far without meaningful connections. I sense my presence will spar a flicker of hope within him—a chance to redefine his purpose beyond being a spawn for me. I know he desires to be seen as valued- to be seen not just for his skills but as an individual worthy of...Well don’t we all. Perhaps In me, he may see a mentor and a potential ally who can help him fulfill this longing for connection while using his abilities for a greater good.”

As he finishes reading, she can see a myriad of emotions playing across his face—recognition, vulnerability, and a hint of the something deeper.

Astarion continues reading, his voice steady at first, but it begins to tremble as he delves deeper into the next sections. The weight of the words hangs heavily in the air, each syllable amplifying the truth of his experiences.

“Lonely: I’ve observed Astarion closely, and it’s clear he has spent much of his life in isolation, lacking genuine companionship…”

He pauses, the sentence hanging between us like a fragile thread. His brow furrows, and she can see the impact of the words settling over him. He swallows hard, his eyes clouding with the weight of his past.

“Lacking genuine companionship,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s testing the truth of it against his own memories. The sadness in his gaze deepens, revealing the layers of hurt he usually conceals with his charming facade.

“Yearning for connection…” He trails off, his voice catching slightly, the realization of his own solitude washing over him.

She can almost hear the gears of his mind turning, processing the longing for belonging that has shaped so much of who he is.

“No Partner: He has no romantic entanglements, which frees him from the distractions and complications that relationships can bring…”

His words stumble here, and he glances at her, searching my face for a reaction. “I—uh, that means I’m...” he begins, his confidence momentarily faltering. The realization that his solitude allows for unyielding loyalty settles in, and she sees him grappling with the loneliness he’s faced for so long.

“No Family: Astarion’s background is characterized by a lack of familial bonds…”

With this, his breath catches, and he hesitates, the air thick with the gravity of what he’s reading.

“A lack of family… no ties,” he echoes softly, and I watch as his features tighten, the hurt etched in his expression. The words resonate within him, stirring emotions he often keeps buried. He questions himself of the importance of these observations then says “It means... I can commit entirely to you.”

Astarion clears his throat, voice unsteady as he speaks. "I... didn't realize how much you observed, how much thought you put into all of this," he admits, his fingers tracing the edges of the page. "It’s strange, reading my life laid out so plainly, like I was some project to be perfected. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?"

She opens her mouth to speak but hesitates, holding back. Instead, she lets the silence linger, trusting him to piece it together on his own.

He stumbles over his next words, hesitant but unable to stop himself. "The loneliness, the... lack of family—it's all true. But seeing it written down like this... it’s a lot."

He takes a breath, his usual confidence wavering as he struggles to keep his voice steady. "You saw me as... lonely. Needing purpose. But this last part..." His gaze drifts to the small scribbles along the page’s edge, lingering on the fragmented notes that hint at something deeper. He pauses, voice tightening. "That's... difficult."

He glances at a line, his brow furrowing slightly. A few words stand out—"handsome," "fear," "attached." His mouth tightens as if trying to figure out what to say. He doesn’t read them aloud, not sure how to approach what he’s seen.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken tension. She stepped closer, her fingers gently brushing against his arm.

“Astarion... are you upset with me?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. Her eyes searched his face, as if she feared she might have crossed a line she didn’t know was there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note:

Hello darling, Thank you for reading!

Okay so this time I used a lot of different POVs so if you noticed " I " a lot dont @ me hahah

Please like/reblog if you enjoyed :)

-Siren X

#The Thirteenth Spawn #Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3

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siren-in-the-shadow · 1 month ago

Text

Found this in my camera roll… y’all know what I’m thinkin ? 😏

#Astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 cazador szarr #bg3 cazador #cazador x reader

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siren-in-the-shadow · 1 month ago

Note

I LOOOOVE your works and waiting for the stories to continue every time! Thank you for your wonderful writings! 💞💞💞

AWW STOPPP🥹🥹🥹 This means so much to me !! Thank you for your kind words 🩷🩷🩷

Currently working on the plot for the next chapter of “Heart of the Thirteenth Spawn,” will be out soon babes X

-Siren

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siren-in-the-shadow · 1 month ago

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Twisted Fate: Cazador X Reader

Chapter 4

Word Count: 3.1k Mentions: Mature Content, She/Her, Baldurs Gate III, Slow Burn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cazador stepped into Y/N’s room, fully expecting to find her awake and ready to tackle the day. Instead, he was met with the sight of her peacefully asleep, the soft rise and fall of her chest mesmerizing. He lingered by the doorway, a puzzled frown crossing his face. As he stood there, observing her serene expression, an unexpected sense of intrigue washed over him. “What if—” he began, but then shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts that threatened to distract him. This was no time for distractions; their mission demanded his full attention.

He walked over to her sleeping form, admiring her beauty while reassuring himself that it was permissible; after all, women were meant to be admired.

“Wake up,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. But Y/N only muttered a few incoherent “hm” sounds, her eyes still closed, blissfully unaware of his presence.

Cazador’s brow furrowed in annoyance, and as he reached out to shake her gently, she instinctively let her hand fall into his, her touch light and feeble, as if she were still lost in the comforting embrace of sleep.

“Hey Y/N” he spoke loudly, yet holding her hand softly.

“Daddy?...” she muttered softly, her voice laced with confusion, as if still caught between the waking world and the remnants of dreams.

Cazador was caught off guard, a slight blush rising to his pale skin at the sound of her sleepy voice. The term hung in the air, an unexpected pleasure blooming within him. He found himself indulging in the name for just a moment, knowing she was asleep and unaware of the effect her words had on him. The warmth of the situation wrapped around him like a soft blanket, igniting a thrill he didn’t expect.

As he observed her, he couldn’t help but take in the gentle curve of her features, the way her hair cascaded across the pillow, framing her face perfectly. A surge of arousal coursed through him, blurring the lines of propriety in the haze of morning light. Yet, he quickly shook off the thought, reminding himself of the mission that lay ahead.

Clearing his throat to regain his composure, he ordered, “Wake up,” this time with a firmer tone, determined to pull her from her slumber and remind her of the task ahead.

Y/N jolted awake, her heart racing as the sudden light flooded her vision. Panic surged through her as she processed the figure looming above her. Cazador stood there, his dark silhouette imposing and his piercing gaze locked onto her, sending a jolt of fear coursing through her. Confusion gripped her, and her mind raced, sputtering out questions that tumbled from her lips in a frantic rush.

“Where am I? It’s morning? What time is it? Why are you here?” Each question blended into the next, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind as she struggled to grasp the reality of her surroundings.

Cazador raised an eyebrow at her frantic questions, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. “Calm down, little mouse,” he said, his tone smooth yet firm, aiming to steady her racing heart. “You’re in your room, and yes, it’s morning. We need to leave to find that wizard.”

Y/N panted softly, her heart still racing from the sudden wake-up call. As she fell back against the pillows, she rubbed her face with her hands, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Cazador’s gaze involuntarily flicked to her chest, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her breaths.

He found himself momentarily captivated by the way her body reacted to the panic and confusion, a slight, involuntary heat creeping up his neck as he quickly averted his eyes. “Hurry up,” he urged, masking the unexpected intrigue with his usual cool detachment. “We don’t have all day.”

A moment stretched between them, the air thick with unspoken tension as Cazador found himself still staring at her. The initial panic in Y/N’s eyes began to fade, replaced by a curious look as she took him in, her gaze traveling up and down his imposing figure.

“Tall you… how you that tall?”she stammered, propping herself up on her elbow and blinking up at him with a mix of confusion and lingering drowsiness.

Cazador’s brow arched slightly at her remark, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m not someone easily overlooked, little mouse,” he replied, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. He composed himself, stepping closer to tower over her. “So, are you going to get up on your own, or do I need to drag you out of bed?” His voice held a teasing edge, but the intensity of his gaze suggested there was more behind his words.

Y/N stretched, letting out a long yawn as she blinked up at Cazador. “I’m awake, I’m awake,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Okay, just give me a minute to shower.” She pushed the covers aside, trying to shake off the remnants of her drowsiness as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

As Y/N stood and walked toward the large bathroom, she could feel Cazador’s gaze lingering on her, his eyes never leaving her form. “Ten minutes,” he said, his tone firm yet oddly protective.

When Y/N emerged from the washroom, she noticed that Cazador had vanished, leaving her alone in the room. However, her eyes were drawn to a neatly laid-out set of clothes on the made bed. The fabric looked comfortable yet elegant, perfectly suited for the day ahead. She quickly slipped into the outfit, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity about what awaited her.

Y/N walked down the long, dimly lit corridors, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. She reached the end of the hallway and paused, taking a moment to gather herself. With a hopeful smile, she called out, “I’m ready!” The words echoed softly in the silence, a small declaration of her determination to face whatever lay ahead.

As Y/N's voice echoed through the corridor, Cazador looked up from the book he was engrossed in. He sat in a large, ornate chair, one leg casually crossed over the other, an air of relaxed confidence about him. A smirk danced on his lips as he set the book down, his gaze sweeping over her.

“Well, look who finally decided to join the world of the awake,” he teased, his voice smooth and rich, tinged with amusement. “I was beginning to think you’d taken up permanent residence in that bathroom.” His eyes sparkled with playful mischief, clearly enjoying the light-hearted banter between them.

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a grin at his teasing. “I’m not that slow,” she replied, crossing her arms in mock annoyance as she approached him. “Some of us just need a little extra time to prepare for the day.” Her playful defiance hid the flicker of excitement in her chest at the prospect of their adventure ahead.

Cazador chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Well, you certainly look ready,” he said, his gaze appraising her outfit. “But remember, it’s not just about looking the part; we have a task to accomplish.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression turning serious for a moment. “We need to find that wizard.”

Y/N glanced around, the unfamiliar surroundings only heightening her sense of uncertainty. “I’m not familiar with this city,” she admitted, a hint of nervousness creeping into her voice. “I’ll need you to lead me to where he is.”

Cazador paused for a moment, turning to face her. “He lives within the city, but on the outskirts,” he replied, his tone steady and authoritative. “It’s not a place you’d want to wander alone.”

She nodded "let’s get going,” she urged, determination shining in her eyes. Cazador gave a slight smirk, knowing that he’d be the one to guide her through the maze of the city

As they walked through the bustling streets, Y/N couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and curiosity. The vibrant colours and sounds of the city surrounded her, pulling her in like a magnet.

“Cazador,” she began, glancing up at him, “what’s this city known for? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He glanced down at her, a flicker of amusement crossing his features. “It’s known for its... unique charm,” he replied cryptically. “You’ll find a mix of cultures here, each adding its own flavour to the city.”

Y/N nodded, intrigued. “And the people? Do they always look this serious?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’ll get used to it. Many have their own battles to fight. But don’t worry; they’re not all unfriendly. Just... cautious.”

“What about you? Have you lived here long?”

“Long enough to know my way around,” he replied, his tone growing more serious. “But this city can change quickly. Always be on your guard.”

“Speaking of the city, how big is it?” she asked, glancing around at the winding streets and towering buildings.

Cazador considered her question for a moment before responding. “It shouldn’t take us more than thirty minutes to reach the outskirts. It’s not as sprawling as some places, but it’s easy to lose your way if you’re not paying attention.”

Y/N nodded, her curiosity now tinged with a hint of apprehension.

As they navigated through the throngs of people, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider. She glanced around, noticing the curious gazes directed at her, a mixture of intrigue and scrutiny in their eyes.

“I feel like some animal with the way people are looking at me,” she said, her voice laced with frustration. “What is it with this city?”

“This city feeds on curiosity,” he said coolly. “And pretty women are rare these days. Don’t take it personally.”

His tone was casual, but the subtle smirk tugging at his lips hinted at something more.

She rolled her eyes, a hint of sarcasm colouring her voice.

“Oh, great. I’m a rare commodity now. Just what every girl wants—to be stared at like some exotic animal in a cage.”

Y/N opened her mouth, ready to voice her thoughts, but was abruptly cut off by Cazador’s sharp tone. “Do you always have to ask so many questions?” he asked, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. “Sometimes, it’s better to just keep quiet and observe, especially in a place like this.” His eyes flicked toward the bustling crowd, emphasizing his point as he tried to balance his annoyance with a protective instinct.

Y/N’s voice softened, taking on a playful tone as she tilted her head up to look at him. “How will we pass the time, then?” she asked, her eyes searching his face. “I want to know you... I want to understand who I share this curse with. Don’t you want to know me too? Surely, you have questions of your own…”

Her words hung in the air, her curiosity evident. Cazador's eyes momentarily flashed with something indecipherable, but his demeanour remained unchanged. "Getting to know you serves no purpose in our current situation," he replied, his voice icy and detached. "What truly matters is the mission at hand."

Despite his cold composure, a flicker of softness crossed his features. “Knowing me would only complicate things.”

"Oh, you think you're the big bad wolf, huh?" Y/N shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're just a man" She teased.

A sharp laugh escaped Cazador's lips, though his eyes darkened as he stops walking to look down at her. "You think I’m just a man?" His voice was low, dangerous, as if daring her to challenge him further. "You have no idea what I am, or what I’m capable of."

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers. "But, by all means, keep underestimating me, little one.

“Then tell me,” she challenged, her voice soft but daring. Her gaze locked onto his, searching for answers in the depths of his dark eyes. "I want to know."

Cazador glanced sideways at her, a bemused expression on his face. “What do you want to know?” he replied, his tone laced with mockery. “I’m a creature of habit—hunting, scheming, and surviving. Not exactly riveting stuff. But if you want a glimpse into my world, just remember it’s not all charming.” He paused, letting the weight of his words linger before continuing to walk.

Y/N fell silent for a moment, her mind racing as she tried to process his words. She opened her mouth to respond, but before the words could form, a faint, muffled cry drifted through the air from the opposite direction of the path. Her attention snapped toward the sound, her heart quickening. The cry was distant but unmistakable—distress. She squinted, trying to make out the source, her worry mounting. "Wait, what is that?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as she strained to see.

Cazador turned his head to the left, quickly locking onto the small figure crumpled on the ground, resembling a wounded child. His instincts screamed at him—it was wrong, too perfectly placed, too vulnerable.

Before he could warn his little mouse, Y/N had already bolted forward, her instincts taking over as she rushed toward the seemingly injured child. Panic surged through him; he could sense the danger lurking beneath the surface of this city. He sprinted after her, determined to catch her before the mimic could strike.

In a heartbeat, he closed the distance, reaching her just as she was about to reach the child. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him as he hissed, “Shhhh, stop! It’s not real—it’s a damn mimic!” His grip tightened around her waist, anchoring her to him as he tried to steady her racing heart.

Y/N froze in shock, heart racing as she felt Cazador’s arms around her. Confusion washed over her, and it took a moment for her to gather herself. As her gaze fell upon the creature, her heart raced, and she gasped at the grotesque form of the mimic, its slimy surface glistening ominously in the dim light. The illusion of a child melted away, revealing the horrifying truth. “Oh my god, oh my god,” she muttered, her voice trembling as the reality of the situation sank in. Still in his arms, looking at the mimic, her eyes wide with fear, and whispered, “Thank you….”

Cazador gently released her, taking a moment to catch his breath after the sprint. As he looked at her, a flicker of care crossed his features before it was quickly overshadowed by frustration. “You need to listen to me!” he exclaimed, his voice sharp. “I could have told you it was a bloody mimic from a mile away!” With that, he grasped her arm firmly and began dragging her back toward the original path, his annoyance evident in his tone but his grip still protective.

As Cazador dragged her along the path, Y/N winced, feeling the pressure of his grip digging into her arm. “Ow, Ow! You’re hurting me!” Y/N gasped as Cazador gripped her arm tightly, pulling her away from the mimic. She winced, her eyes pleading as she searched for a hint of sympathy in his expression.

Cazador paused, his fierce facade softening for a moment as he glanced down at her. Realizing how tightly he was holding her, he reluctantly eased his grip. “I’m trying to keep you safe!,” he yelled, his tone losing some of its edge.

“I'm sorry, okay? But it looked like a baby! How could you just stand there? Do you really have no heart?” she retorted, frustration bubbling over as adrenaline coursed through her.

As Cazador released her arm, Y/N rubbed the spot where his grip had left a mark, a blend of irritation and lingering fear coursing through her. Ignoring her, he strode down the original path, his pace unrelenting.

“Hey, slow down! You’re walking too fast!” she shouted after him, quickening her steps to keep up. “Damn you, this isn’t a race!” Frustration boiling over, she sprinted forward and tried to shove him aside. To her annoyance, it barely budged him—he was solid as a wall.

Cazador turned around, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her try to shove him aside, clearly amused. “Is that supposed to be a challenge?” he quipped, an eyebrow arched in playful disbelief. “You might need a bit more strength to move me.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You sweet idiot, running straight into a mimic like that.”

“Why didn’t you warn me? I could’ve seriously hurt myself!” she huffed, stepping closer to confront him and pressing her hand against his chest. “Are you really that heartless that you don’t care about me at all? Not even to fucking warn me?”

Cazador’s expression darkened, and he snapped, “You think I’m heartless? I’m trying to keep you alive!” His voice took on a haughty edge, dripping with disdain. “I should have warned you, but let’s be clear—I told you to always be on your guard, didn’t I?” He shoved her shoulder, his irritation palpable. “Your safety only matters because it directly affects me. If you get hurt, I suffer the consequences.”

He reached out and grasped her hand, pulling her closer as he pointed to the sigil on their wrists. “This hellish thing binds us, Y/N. If you’re in danger, so am I.” He spat the last words, frustration evident in his voice, though a flicker of concern lingered beneath his cold exterior.

As she processed his words, the weight of his self-interest became clear. There was no surprise, no flicker of hope that his concern extended beyond his own immortality. Of course, he only cared because it directly affected him—anything else would have been out of character. The realization felt oddly familiar, a reminder of the cold, transactional nature of their bond. After a moment of contemplation, she sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Okay, let’s just move on, please. But in the future, can you at least try to communicate with me better?”

Cazador took a slow breath, nodding as his eyes flickered to the glowing sigil on their wrists. A smug smirk tugged at his lips as he traced a finger lazily over her mark. “Well done. You've managed to make it worse,” he muttered, the tension in his posture easing just a little. His fingers slipped away from her hand, amusement and irritation dancing in his gaze. “Come on. Walk with me.”

They walked in silence for a while, stealing glances at each other, yet somehow managing not to get caught. Both were lost in their thoughts as their minds raced.

As Y/N opened her mouth to ask how much longer, Cazador cut her off, saying, “Look,” and pointed to a small cottage in the distance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello darling, Thank you for reading!

Please like/reblog if you enjoyed :)

OMGGGG I wrote this chapter wearing my Astarion T-Shirt I was giggling so hard at the irony. My sweet boy.

-Siren

#baldurs gate 3 #cazador x tav #cazador x reader #cazador szarr #bg3 astarion #bg3 cazador szarr #bg3 cazador #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 cazador #Twisted Fate Series

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siren-in-the-shadow · 1 month ago

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Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn: Astarion X Reader

Chapter 2

Word Count: 1.2k Mentions: Mature Content, She/Her, Series Chapter 1: Here

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"Free?” he echoed, his voice shaky as he searched her expression for any sign of deception. “Is this some sort of test? You’re expecting me to prove my loyalty again, aren’t you?”

His pulse quickened, a flicker of anxiety igniting within him. This couldn’t be real. He had always been her obedient servant, and the thought of being without purpose felt disorienting. “I’ll be a good boy,” he declared, the desperation creeping into his voice. “Just give me another mission. Whatever you need, I’m ready. I’ll do it well—I promise.”

Her expression softened, but he noticed the subtle shake of her head, as if she were trying to gently dislodge the fog of confusion that enveloped him. “No, my sweet,” she replied, her voice soothing yet firm. “It’s over. The missions, the tasks… all of it.”

His heart raced, disbelief coursing through him. “But…I’ve always done what you asked. I can continue—”

“No, Astarion.” She interjected softly, her gaze unwavering, her tone resolute. She paused, taking a breath before continuing. “I’ve broken the curse that bound you to me. You are no longer under my control, no longer bound by my will.” She gently offers a reassuring smile, “You’re free now. This is a new chapter, one without the burden of commands or expectations.”

The raw confusion in his voice gave way to something sharper, a simmering anger. “What was I to you all these years, if you could have just let me go? Why now?” His voice cracked, the intensity of his emotions overwhelming him as his mind raced through a torrent of conflicting feelings—relief, sadness, and fear of what this freedom even meant.

Astarion’s mind was racing, his expression quickly grew into a twisted frustration giving way to something more frantic. He stood abruptly, no longer hesitant as he closed the distance between them with quick, deliberate steps. His voice, tight with desperation, almost broke out a cry as he spoke. “Tell me I am something. Tell me I am something to you… please,” he demanded, the words coming out harsher than intended, his anxiety bubbling into anger. He stopped just inches from her, his eyes burning with intensity, as though her answer was the only thing anchoring him to the ground.

She lifts her gaze to meet his, his figure towering above her. Raising her hands gently on his chest, she speaks in a steady, soothing tone, "Breathe… just breathe, and listen. You're not hearing me."

He paused, something about her words catching in his mind. His brow furrowed, and his frustration shifted to uncertainty. “Wait,” he said, quieter now. “What did you just say?” His eyes searched hers, suddenly unsure. “Did I hear you correctly? A curse?”

Y/N nodded gently, her eyes soft but steady. “Yes, Astarion”

He stared at her, still struggling to process her words. Astarion’s heart pounded in his chest, disbelief flooding his mind. “Curse?” he repeated, his voice unsteady. “There was a curse?” The words felt surreal, as if they didn’t belong in the same breath as his name. “You… broke it? But how? Why now?” His voice rose, tinged with frustration. “Why would you break it and just—release me?”

Y/N held his gaze, her expression softening as she prepared to explain. “This isn’t your burden to bear, Star,” she said gently. “I was cursed—long before you ever came into my life. The only way out of it was to either kill my own master… or to create spawn, like you, who could perform a ritual to free me.”

She paused, her eyes flickering with the weight of the truth. “It was never about me getting power, or you, or any of your brothers. You were someone I chose to help me.

The tension in the room thickened as he searched her face for answers, but the calm expression she wore only deepened his frustration. His hands curled into fists at his sides, though he didn’t move. "You’re saying I’m free, but you’ve kept me by your side for years. All this time, I thought…" He trailed off, unwilling to say it aloud, unwilling to admit how deeply he cared for her. How, despite the chains of his past, she had become someone he longed for, craved in ways he could never voice.

But something else was nagging at him—something in the way she spoke about the curse. She had a master? The thought made his stomach twist.

"Wait..." His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his tone sharpening. "You had a master?" There was a sudden flash of anger in his voice, raw and unfiltered. "Did he hurt you?"

His voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, something fierce and protective flashed in his gaze. The idea that anyone—anyone—could have controlled or harmed her sparked a rage he hadn’t felt in years.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice low but intense. "Did he hurt you?”

She let out a small, humorless laugh. "The reason you and your brothers have been spoiled," she began, "is because my master was… terrible. I vowed to never be like him."

Her gaze softened, the laughter fading as she continued. "Of course he hurt me. That’s why I had to create spawn—to complete the ritual and escape him. The other option was to kill him, but he was strong, powerful… and me? I wasn’t."

She paused, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "I’ll tell you the full story when your brothers are here, like I promised. Please, just be a good boy and understand.

Astarion’s eyes softened at her words, a slow smile breaking through his earlier tension. “A good boy,” he repeated, the warmth in his chest making him feel lighter, He nodded.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you, please let me know,” she said, her voice sincere.

Astarion hesitated, his heart racing at the thought of asking for something so vulnerable. He shifted his weight slightly, his gaze flickering to the floor before meeting her eyes again. “Um… I know it might be a lot to ask, but…” He took a breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would it be alright if I had a hug? Just… for a moment?” The words hung in the air, a mix of need and uncertainty in his tone, as he waited for her response.

She blinked, a little surprised by his request, before letting out a soft, amused giggle. “Ofcourse” she said, warmth in her voice. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around him. Her smaller frame pressed against his, her face naturally resting against his chest.

For a moment, she stayed there, enveloped by the quiet comfort of the embrace.

Astarion closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her, savoring the closeness he’d craved for so long. Her scent—soft and warm—washed over him, filling his senses and grounding him in the moment. He felt the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against him, and for a few precious seconds, nothing else existed. His usual sharp wit and careful demeanour melted away, leaving only the quiet contentment of being close to her.

But all too soon, she gently pulled back, breaking the embrace. He blinked, still caught in the daze of her warmth, reluctant to let the moment end.

“Take the day for yourself,” she said, her voice soft and soothing. “Your brothers will be home this evening. Go do something that makes you happy.” She smiled lovingly, her warmth unmistakable.

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Hello Sweetness, Thank you for reading!

Please like/reblog if you enjoyed :)

-Siren

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #bg3 tav #The Thirteenth Spawn #Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn

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siren-in-the-shadow · 1 month ago

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Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn: Astarion X Reader

Chapter 1

Plot : For years, Astarion has served as a Spawn under the quiet, mysterious control of Y/N, a master who never raised a hand against him but kept him bound to her will. When she summons him to her office one morning, he braces for another mission, his mind swirling with anxiety—and something deeper, a secret infatuation he's harboured. But instead of orders, she gives him something unthinkable: his freedom. Stunned and overwhelmed by the sudden news, Astarion is left reeling, questions burning in his mind. Why now? And more importantly, why does the thought of leaving her feel like the cruelest twist of all?

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The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a pale glow through the tall, arched windows of the castle. In the dim quiet, Astarion stirred, his senses sharpening as he felt the familiar pull—the gentle thread that linked him to her. His master was calling him, though the sun had only just begun to rise.

Astarion didn’t mind the early hour. The world felt softer, quieter in these moments, and the thought of seeing her made his chest tighten in a way he’d long ago stopped trying to ignore. He had long accepted his feelings, even if they were buried beneath layers of duty and caution.

She’d never hurt him, not once, but neither had she indulged him. For years, she had been a presence both commanding and comforting, a figure who offered him a strange solace, even within the bounds of his service.

He moved through the empty halls, his steps silent on the cold stone floors. He knew this castle well—every darkened corner, every twisting staircase, and, of course, the path to her office. The door stood ajar, a sign of trust, he thought, though he would have entered at her command regardless. He took a steadying breath and stepped inside.

Her office was bathed in the soft golden light of the early morning. Shadows danced along the walls, painting patterns over shelves lined with books and artifacts.

A faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air, a gentle reminder of her presence. She stood by the window, her back to him, gazing out at the first rays of sunlight. Her silhouette was still, framed by the light that seemed almost to bend around her, as if drawn to her as much as he was.

“Master,” he greeted her, lowering himself into a respectful bow. He could feel his pulse quicken, a warmth spreading through him as he waited for her acknowledgment.

She turned slowly, her eyes finding his with that same calm intensity he had come to know so well. There was a softness to her expression that made his heart ache—something almost warm, yet distant enough to remind him of his place. She gestured to the chair before her desk, a silent invitation, and he obeyed, lowering himself into the seat with a grace that belied his uncertainty.

“You came quickly,” she noted, her voice as soft as the morning light.

“I always do,” he replied, his tone careful but respectful, knowing how he longed to please her in ways he’d never dare voice. The quiet of the morning was a perfect backdrop to the subtle dance of tension that had always lingered between them. He knew better than to assume she saw it too; she was too careful, too measured, to betray such things.

She moved to her desk and took her seat, folding her hands in her lap as she regarded him with a thoughtful gaze. “Star, there is something we must discuss.”

The sound of the pet name made his heart clench, a rush of warmth spreading through him. He’d heard it countless times before, and yet, each time she said it, it felt as if she’d reached out and touched him. He couldn’t help the flicker of softness in his eyes, a tiny crack in the careful mask he wore. But he quickly steadied himself, tilting his head with a feigned ease, trying to appear as composed as ever.

The words were gentle, yet they settled over him with the weight of stone. He straightened, ready for whatever task she might give him. In all these years, he had never faltered, never questioned her decisions, for he knew, deep down, that she held him in ways he could never explain. He felt a familiar connection to her and he had no idea what it meant. She was his master, yes, but there was more—a hidden tenderness he could almost believe was real.

Her gaze held his, unwavering, as if searching for something in his eyes. “You’ve served me faithfully, Star, with loyalty, precision, and skill. You have never betrayed me, not once. You have been my eyes and ears in places I could not go, my silent shadow, my trusted confidant.”

She paused with a gentle smile, letting the words sink in, and he could feel the weight of her admiration wash over him. “You’ve shown a dedication beyond what I could ever ask for. I know I can count on you, even in the darkest of hours.

Astarion felt her praise sink into him like a balm, igniting a heat within him. Her acknowledgment reached deep into parts of him that had always craved such words. He willed himself to keep his composure, maintaining a calm, respectful smile, though inside, he felt his resolve softening under her gaze.

He inclined his head, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “It’s been my honour, my lady.”

In that moment, he sensed a shift—a hint of something beyond the familiar bond they shared. He didn’t know what to make of it, only that he felt the stirring of something deep, something hopeful, within him.

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes softening as she looked at him. “This is a really long story,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “I’m going to wait until your brothers come home tonight to explain everything fully.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity flickering through him, but he held his tongue, waiting for her to continue.

“I wanted to prepare you for the news,” she said, her gaze unwavering. “I know it will be overwhelming, and I didn’t want to simply drop it on you all at once.” She exhaled slowly, as if weighing her next words carefully. “You deserve to know what’s coming, and I thought it best to speak to you first.”

Astarion felt a tightness in his chest, the words she spoke stirring an unease he couldn’t quite place. His thoughts tangled, trying to make sense of her vague explanation. “I… I don’t understand,” he admitted, his voice quieter than he intended. “Prepare me for what? What could possibly require that?”

His eyes searched hers, bewilderment creeping into his carefully maintained facade. He’d never known her to hesitate or delay. The uncertainty in her tone unsettled him more than the words themselves.

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart heavy with the weight of her words. “You are free. You are not bound to me anymore. You can do what you please.”

Astarion’s brows furrowed in disbelief. The word “free” hung in the air, almost unreal.

“Free?” he echoed, his voice shaky as he searched her expression for any sign of deception.

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Oh hello little one... If you're reading this then thank you for making it this far!

I hope you enjoyed, please leave a like/reblog :)

More chapters coming soon, y'all aren't ready for thissss hehehe

-Siren

#bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x female tav

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siren-in-the-shadow · 1 month ago

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Twisted Fate : Cazador X Reader

Chapter 3

Word Count: 2.9k Mentions: Mature Content, She/Her Pronouns, Baldurs Gate III

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As Y/N stepped into the warm cascade of water, she tried to let the tension of the day melt away, her thoughts swirling around everything she’d experienced so far.

Y/N finished her bath and wrapped herself in a towel, an unsettling feeling crept over her. She glanced around the room, half-expecting to find a pair of eyes peering out from the shadows, but found nothing. It's just nerves, she reassured herself, trying to shake the eerie sensation as she crossed the room to the wardrobe.

With a wary glance over her shoulder, she opened the wardrobe and began searching through its contents. Even as she picked out her clothes, the faint sense of being watched lingered, making her skin prickle.

She quickly got dressed, hoping that the strange feeling would dissipate once she was out of the room. Y/N paused, running her fingers along the fabric. The clothes fit as though they were made for her, hugging her frame just right. Strange, she mused, eyeing herself in the mirror. The fresh clothes Cazador had left were unexpectedly comfortable, soft against her skin.

Once dressed, she lingered by the door, torn between rest and curiosity. I should probably stay put… he did say to rest, she thought, glancing back at the inviting bed. But who knows what else is hiding in this place? It’s not like he’ll be watching my every move.

She took a step closer to the door, feeling a familiar thrill of anticipation. Just a quick look around, she reasoned with herself, gripping the doorknob. I didn’t get myself bound to a vampire lord just to sit quietly in a room, after all. With a deep breath, she slipped into the hallway, ready to explore whatever lay in the shadows beyond.

Y/N padded softly along the corridor, her footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floors. The dim torchlight flickered off the walls, casting long shadows that danced around her, heightening the sense of mystery that permeated Cazador’s castle.

Why couldn’t I just stay put? she silently chided herself, biting her lip as she ventured farther down the hall. I could be resting right now, instead of sneaking around this eerie place. But, of course, curiosity always seemed to win. It wasn’t enough to be bound to a vampire lord; no, she just had to keep pushing boundaries, even now.

Her fingers brushed over the sigil on her hand, and she frowned. This stupid thing… tied to him of all people, she thought, resentment bubbling just below the surface. What even possessed me to agree to another mission? She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. Why can’t I just be… normal? Relax, even just once?

Yet even as she questioned herself, she knew she’d never be satisfied staying idle. She had chosen this path, for better or worse, and now, bound by magic and fate, she had no choice but to see it through. But as she turned a corner and the corridor stretched endlessly before her, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever truly be free from the ties that kept pulling her back to this dark, mysterious world.

The air was thick with history, and each step felt like a journey deeper into the unknown. Her mind swirled with a mix of curiosity and unease, thoughts tumbling over one another like leaves caught in a gentle breeze.

She pondered the missions she was inevitably drawn into. Why do I have to steal shit all the time? The thought gnawed at her. She wished for a moment of peace, a chance to breathe without the weight of expectations. Why can’t I just relax and enjoy this strange castle? But her life seemed destined to revolve around chaos and conflict.

Her fingers absently traced the sigil on her wrist, feeling a warmth radiate from the mark. Why does it feel so alive? The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, intensifying her unease. She couldn't help but wonder about the magic that bound them, What is the purpose of the curse? What did it mean to be tethered to someone like him, someone so dangerous yet so fascinating?

What must it be like to live for centuries? she mused, her heart heavy with the weight of his immortality. Cazador was a mystery, a tapestry woven with threads of power and loneliness. Does he feel the passage of time? Or is he simply a ghost, haunting the shadows of his own existence? Each interaction with him had revealed flickers of vulnerability hidden beneath layers of cold indifference, leaving her with more questions than answers.

She brushed her fingers against the sigil on her palm, a strange warmth pulsing beneath her skin. What does it mean to be bound to someone like him? The notion sent shivers down her spine, a blend of fear and fascination. He has the power to harm.

Her mind racing, thoughts spiralling further. Was he really a spawn? Did someone hurt him to make him this cold? The idea clung to her like a shadow, intensifying her curiosity about the vampire who had captivated her in such a short time. The more she thought about him, the more complex he became—a puzzle that both intrigued and terrified her.

How can someone so intriguing also be so terrifying? The dichotomy of his nature gnawed at her, pulling her in with an invisible thread. Yet every instinct screamed to tread carefully, for he was a creature of darkness, one with the capacity for destruction.

The quiet of the castle seemed to amplify her endless thoughts. She rounded a corner and suddenly found herself face-to-chest with Cazador. The impact was jarring, sending her stumbling backward as she lost her balance. Her heart raced, and time seemed to slow as she felt herself tipping over. Just as the floor rushed to meet her, strong hands gripped her waist, pulling her back against a solid frame.

“You,” Cazador's voice emerged, low and steady, laced with surprise and an intense awareness that left her breathless. He hadn’t expected to find her there, especially not while lost in thoughts of her.

As their eyes locked, the air between them thickened, a palpable tension swirling in the silence. His dark gaze captured her, holding her in place, and for a fleeting moment, the castle around them faded into the background, leaving only the two of them suspended in that charged space.

Y/N’s breath caught as she braced herself against him, feeling the chill of the stone walls seep into her skin. The sharpness of his presence sent a thrill through her, an intensity in his gaze that quickened her pulse in a way she couldn’t quite comprehend.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and something else—something that felt almost electric. She took a small step back, trying to regain her composure, yet the connection lingered, a thread weaving them together in that vast, empty hall.

Cazador's grip lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and she could see the slight surprise in his eyes morph into a guarded curiosity.

Cazador's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of intrigue flickering in his dark gaze. "What are you doing wandering around at this hour?" His tone was a mix of curiosity and concern, as if he were truly interested in her answer. He released her waist, but the his touch lingered, making it hard for her to shake the feeling of his hands on her.

Y/N hesitated, searching for the right words as a flutter of anxiety twisted in her stomach. “I… just wanted to explore,” she admitted, her voice barely rising above a whisper. The embarrassment of having been caught off guard flooded her again, but she steeled herself, determined to project confidence. “I can’t sleep after the day I had. It feels like I can’t relax.”

She glanced around, noting the flickering torchlight casting dancing shadows on the walls, a tangible reminder of the castle’s ominous presence. Would he understand? Would he care?

Cazador studied her for a moment, his expression inscrutable yet charged with something unnamable. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—was it concern, curiosity, or perhaps even something deeper? Whatever it was, it sent a rush of warmth through her, and she found herself holding his gaze, the silence stretching between them.

After what felt like an eternity, he sighed, the sound almost reluctant. “Come with me, little mouse,” he finally said, gesturing down the corridor.

“Where are we going?” she asked, the intrigue momentarily pushing her anxiety aside. She was acutely aware of the way he moved, his tall frame exuding a grace that was almost predatory in its elegance. He turned, leading the way down the dimly lit hall, and she followed, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor.

As they walked, the air was thick with unspoken tension, and Y/N’s mind raced with questions. She stole glances at Cazador, trying to read the expression on his face, but it remained a mask of calm indifference.

They passed through a set of heavy wooden doors, and Y/N felt her heart race as the space opened up into a room filled with shelves stacked high with ancient tomes and artifacts. Dust motes danced in the air, illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns placed strategically around the room.

“Welcome to my storage room,” Cazador said, his voice cutting through her reverie. “This is where I keep my more… personal items.” There was a hint of a smirk on his lips, and for a moment, Y/N felt the tension shift, replaced by a curious anticipation.

Y/N took a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders easing as she stepped further into the room. “Beautiful…” she said, her voice light as she wandered toward a large window framed by ornate glass designs. The intricate patterns caught the light, casting colorful reflections across the stone walls, and she couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship.

Meanwhile, Cazador was pleasantly surprised as she went straight to the window, captivated by the moon's beauty. She took in the darkness draped over his ancient relics and possessions and it intrigued him.

As she settled into the couch infront of the window, she gazed out at the night sky, the moon casting a silver glow over the landscape beyond. Stars twinkled like diamonds scattered across a dark velvet canvas, and for a moment, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. “The sky is prettier at night.”

Letting out a soft sigh as she gazed up at the night sky. “I’ve always been fond of the dark,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. The stars sparkled like distant diamonds, filling her with a sense of peace. With a slight giggle, she added, “But I think the sun likes me better.”

Her soft giggle rang through the air, a sound so light and free that it clashed with the weight of the ancient stone walls surrounding them. For a fleeting moment, Cazador felt a sudden rush coursing through him, igniting something primal as he watched her bask in the moonlight. She seemed to illuminate the darkness, making it feel less ominous, almost alive. He attempted to brush off the sensation, attributing his heightened awareness to the long absence of such intoxicating allure that only a woman could possess. He cursed himself, realizing that women had a way of radiating an irresistible allure without even trying.

Just then, he heard her voice again, pulling him from his thoughts as he tried not to overthink it. Cazador tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as he considered her words. “The dark holds many secrets,” he replied, his voice low and measured, carrying a weight that hinted at both intrigue and caution. “It can be beautiful, yes, but it can also conceal dangers lurking just out of sight.”

He stepped closer, drawn to the way the moonlight framed her face, illuminating her features with an ethereal glow. “Yet there’s something admirable about a fondness for the dark,” he continued, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “It suggests a courage that many lack.”

“Admirable? I wouldn’t say that,” she replied, a slight smile playing on her lips. “I see it as being a me being you know…sneaky and mischievous—a lost wanderer through the night. While everyone else is asleep, I’m wide awake, savoring the quiet. When morning comes, the crowd returns, but at night, I feel like I’m truly free.”

She didn’t know it, but he was glad she enjoyed the night, for the night had always been his refuge.

“I can understand that feeling,” he replied, to himself, his voice low and contemplative. The night, a time when he could traverse the halls of his castle unburdened by his title. In the darkness, he was simply Cazador, not the feared vampire lord everyone else saw.

Cazador sat beside her, his expression revealing genuine curiosity as he studied her reaction. “Tell me, do you seek adventure in the dark, or is it merely a fleeting escape you crave?” His intense gaze remained unwavering.

“I... don’t know,” she pondered, glancing at him as he sat beside her. “It’s an intense feeling. The first word that comes to mind is happiness, but that feels like a dumbed down version of what I really mean.” She hesitated, searching for the right words “It’s... there’s something deeper about it, something that... um, it just makes me feel... different, you know?

He nods deep in thought himself.

She took a breath, her gaze drifting back to the moonlit sky. “Listen... I’m just me. Im Y/N …and I can’t describe how it makes me feel. I struggle to communicate that to you, but what I can do is sit with the emotion and truly feel it. It’s like a connection, some things I cant explain its just an underlying feeling of this feels right”.

Cazador regarded her with a steady gaze, the flicker of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Ah, the nuances of emotion—so elusive, yet so compelling.“ But you are not just ‘Y/N,’ are you? You’re far more than a simple name. There’s a depth to you, and that feeling you describe—it’s what makes life worth living, isn’t it?”

Y/N glanced at him, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “I—I never said I didn’t want to live,” she retorted, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Cazador suddenly noticed her shiver, a subtle tremor that broke the serenity of the moment. Without thinking, he rose from the couch, a quiet urgency driving him. “Wait here,” he instructed, his voice strong and dominant, before disappearing down the corridor.

“Where are you going?” Y/N called after him, her confusion mingling with a strange anticipation. She watched as he melted into the shadows, the flickering torchlight barely illuminating the path he took. The silence felt heavy without him beside her, and the cool air pressed against her skin, intensifying the chill that had crept in.

Just as the words faded into the stillness, he returned, the blanket draped over his arm. Without hesitation, he approached and gently spread it over her shoulders, the fabric soft against her skin.

His hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment longer, a fleeting connection that sent warmth rushing through her. She could feel the weight of his touch, a sensation that sparked a flurry of emotions within her.

Cazador seemed unaware of his lingering hand, lost in the simple act of ensuring she was warm. The air thickened between them, charged with an underlying intimacy that felt both foreign and somehow familiar.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low, eyes searching hers for a response.

Y/N nodded, a soft smile breaking through her surprise. “Mhm thank you.” She could feel the his gaze lingering, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of them wrapped in the comfort of the night and the blanket that now cocooned her.

Y/N returned her gaze to the moon, its silvery light casting a serene glow across the room. As her eyelids grew heavy, the soothing embrace of sleep pulled her under, and she drifted off on the couch, unaware of the world around her.

Cazador observed her for a moment, an enigmatic expression on his face. He got up, carefully lifting her in his arms and carrying her to bed.

Once there, he gently laid her down, making sure she was comfortable. As he turned to leave, a flicker of hesitation caught him. He almost walked away, but something kept him rooted to the spot. His gaze flicked back to her tranquil form, and he felt an instinctive urge to check on her. With a slight frown, he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against the sigil on her wrist.

The warmth beneath his touch caught surprised him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to linger, absorbing the unfamiliar sensation. A stark contrast to the coldness he had grown accustomed to. Then, abruptly, he pulled his hand back. “Shit,” he muttered, dismissing the unknown feeling as he turned and walked away.

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Little mouse... If you're reading this then thank you for making it this far!

I hope you enjoyed the fluff, please leave a like :)

More chapters coming soon.

-Siren X

#baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 cazador szarr #bg3 cazador #cazador x tav #cazador x reader #original story #Twisted Fate Series

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siren-in-the-shadow · 1 month ago

Text

Twisted Fate : Cazador X Reader

Chapter 2

Word Count: 2.1k Mentions: Mature Content, She/Her, Series

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As Y/N pushes past Cazador, she feels a flicker of triumph, but it’s short-lived. She barely makes it a few steps out of the prison cell when she hears his footsteps echo behind her, unhurried and confident. His voice cuts through the silence, laced with mockery.

“Running already?” he taunts, following her with that signature smugness. “I expected you to have more of a plan, considering the little show of defiance.”

Y/N stops but doesn’t turn around, clenching her fists. She’d hoped to put more distance between them, but it seems Cazador has other ideas. He closes the gap with unnatural speed, suddenly standing beside her with that infuriating smirk.

“I’d hate to see you stumble around aimlessly,” he continues, his tone sharp and commanding. “If we’re to break this curse, we’ll need information—knowledge that I possess and you lack.” He gestures down the shadowy corridor. “The library awaits. Or do you prefer ignorance?”

Y/N bristles at his words, but she knows he’s right. With a huff, she turns to follow him. He leads the way with a certain elegance, guiding her through the winding hallways until they reach a massive set of double doors. He pushes them open, revealing a dimly lit room beyond, filled with towering bookshelves and the faint, musky scent of old paper.

He strides into the room, glancing over his shoulder to ensure she’s following. “Welcome to the library,” he says, his tone now slightly more serious, as if even he respects the weight of the knowledge contained here. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

As Y/N steps into the library, she’s immediately struck by the sheer volume of ancient tomes, relics and scrolls that surround her. The towering shelves whisper secrets of the past, and she feels a mix of awe and caution—these books likely hold dark and dangerous knowledge.

Lost in the wonder of the library, Y/N didn’t notice Cazador’s eyes tracing her form. His gaze held a mix of curiosity and something more profound, but she was too captivated by the shelves of ancient knowledge to sense the weight of his attention.

Her fingers twitch with the urge to explore, but before she can reach for a nearby artifact, Cazador’s voice pierces the silence. “Careful,” he warns, his gaze icy. “These aren’t toys for you to play with.”

With her heart racing, Y/N steels herself, ready to delve into the depths of the library and uncover the secrets they need, despite the shadows lurking within.

Y/N glanced away, hesitating for a moment before she muttered, “Sorry.” She barely looked at Cazador, but the word hung between them, heavy and unexpected. After a beat, she turned back to him, searching his face. “Well… where do we start?” she asked, a mix of determination and curiosity in her voice as she took in the towering shelves around them.

Cazador nodded toward a shadowy corner of the library. “There,” he said, his tone serious yet subtly inviting.

As they pored over the towering shelves of the library, Y/N felt an unexpected sense of camaraderie with Cazador. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, and she focused intently on the texts before her, jotting down notes and trying to piece together the fragments of information they needed.

After some hours, her gaze wandered, and her eyes landed on a worn leather journal nestled between two larger tomes. Intrigued, she reached for it, fingers brushing against the intricate designs embossed on the cover. She hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Cazador, who was engrossed in a particularly large book, his expression unreadable.

Curiosity gnawed at her, and she carefully opened the journal. The pages were filled with what she deemed as Cazador’s elegant handwriting, chronicling his experiences and thoughts—some mundane, others deeply personal. As she read, she uncovered fragments of his life: the weight of centuries, becoming a spawn, the isolation that came with immortality. She was quickly skimming the pages; truly, she was fascinated and saddened by what was written. Was this really Cazador's experience? Was this the reality of his existence?

As she read about the heavy silence that filled his days and the weight of endless nights, her heart ached for him. Each entry revealed layers of a man caught in a constant struggle between his desires and the cruel nature of his fate. He wrote of battles fought not just against external foes but also within himself, grappling with the isolation that his immortality imposed. Y/N felt a surge of empathy, realizing that beneath Cazador’s cold demeanor lay a soul haunted by the very things that defined him—loneliness, regret, and a yearning for connection that he will probably never acknowledge, nor realize. A chill ran down her spine as she realized how much he had buried beneath his aloof exterior.

Y/N became so engrossed in the journal that she didn’t notice Cazador shift his focus from his book. When he finally caught sight of her, his expression hardened, and a dark look shadowed his face. “What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice low and commanding, sending a jolt through her.

Y/N's heart raced as she registered the intensity in his voice and the way he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Startled, she jumped up from her seat, instinctively taking a step back to create some space. “I—I thought it would help with the cure,” with her eyes widening she whispered, her grip tightening on the journal as if it could provide her some comfort against his imposing presence.

“This isn’t a game, little mouse,” he said firmly, grabbing her arm and guiding her back to her seat. “You don’t understand anything, and it’s not your place to know. Stay in your place.” He pointed at her as if reprimanding a child.

Y/N frowned, trying to reason with him. “But I can help,” she insisted, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

He recoiled, smacking her hand away. “I don’t need your help,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with irritation.

Y/N felt a surge of fear at his sharp tone. She caught the flicker of surprise in his eyes, and for just a moment, she saw something shift in his expression—whatever it was, it had quickly vanished.

“Come,” he said, his voice more measured now, as he turned and walked toward the book he had been investigating. He gestured for her to follow, a begrudging acknowledgment that perhaps there was still a way forward despite their tension.

Cazador exhaled sharply, an annoyed look crossing his face as he placed a finger on the page. “I’ve found something,” he muttered, his tone almost begrudging.

“The cure?” Y/N asked, eyes lighting up with sudden hope. “Really? You found it?”

He shot her a disdainful glance, a smirk barely tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No, you sweet idiot,” he replied with a condescending shake of his head.

“There’s more to it than that, this is bigger than I thought.” He pointed at the page again, his annoyance simmering just below the surface as he waited for her to catch on.

Y/N’s gaze drifted down to the book, her brow furrowing as she struggled to make sense of the unfamiliar symbols scrawled across the page. She looked up, meeting his eyes, searching for answers in their cold depths. Her gaze flickered briefly to his lips before returning to his eyes, trying to read the expression that seemed carefully guarded.

“What does it say?” she asked softly, frustration lacing her tone. Cazador let out a sigh, his annoyance evident. “It’s written in an ancient tongue—one even I can barely decipher.” He paused, his gaze hardening. “We’ll need to consult a wizard. This is old magic, and there are few left who can understand it.”

Y/N straightened, ready for action. “Then let’s go into the city.”

Cazador let out a low, mocking laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “The sun has set, little mouse. Shops won’t open until morning.” Without another word, he turned and strode out of the library, making his way toward another room.

She hurried after him, frowning. “Where are you going?”

He glanced back, his smirk barely hiding his amusement. “Getting you fed.” He led her into the dining room, where he summoned a servant with a flick of his fingers. “Prepare something for our guest,” he ordered, his voice casual yet commanding.

As the servant moved to follow his orders, Y/N suddenly realized she hadn’t eaten all day, her focus consumed by the puzzles of his cryptic journal. Hunger tugged at her now, and she found herself startled that he had noticed, let alone acted on it.

Cazador turned to her, offering a slight nod—an unspoken gesture of care buried beneath his usual aloofness. It was subtle, but enough to make her pause, a hint of warmth slipping through the cracks of his cold exterior. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of something unexpected, something almost human, lurking just beneath the surface.

Y/N sat down at the table, and a plate was set in front of her with a quiet efficiency. She looked up at the servant, offering a small, grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said softly, and the servant gave a brief nod before retreating from the room.

Y/N noticed Cazador standing a few paces away, leaning against the wall as if he had no intention of joining her, yet his gaze never left her. The silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding.

As she picked up her fork, Y/N looked up, noticing Cazador watching her intently, his expression unreadable. She hesitated, then gestured to the chair across from her. “Are you planning to just stand there?” she asked, curiosity lacing her words.

Cazador smirked, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “It’s interesting, observing you,” he said, a faint, almost playful edge to his tone. “You mortals are so... fragile, yet you’re so determined to survive. Always eating, sleeping, searching for some purpose.”

“Well, excuse me for needing to eat,” she said, a twinge of guilt creeping in as she took a bite. A light giggle bubbled up, and she added, “Not all of us can survive on pure arrogance.”

Cazador let out a small, breathless laugh before quickly turning it into a playful smirk. “Ah, but there’s something to be said for a diet rich in confidence. It does wonders for one’s complexion.” His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of genuine amusement in his gaze as he leaned against the wall, still watching her intently.

Y/N giggled, the lightness of the moment momentarily easing the tension between them. She laid her head down on the table for a brief second before sitting up again, finishing the last bites of her food. As she pushed her plate aside, she noticed Cazador moving toward her.

He settled into the chair across from her, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting. “What’s so amusing, little mouse?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing as he leaned forward slightly, a playful glint in his eyes.

Y/N shrugged, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Just tired,” she replied, lying through her teeth. She aimed to deflect his curiosity, not wanting to reveal how the complexity of their situation both frightened and intrigued her. “Oh, you know how it is! After being thrown into a stranger's prison, nearly becoming a slave, and then realizing I’m somehow magically bound to someone with the power to hurt me—yet doesn’t—well.” She waved her hand dismissively, trying to appear nonchalant.

Cazador didn’t respond, letting her words hang in the air. Without a word, he turned on his heel and started walking, gesturing for her to follow. “Come,” he said, his voice cold and detached, leaving no room for argument.

They walked in silence through the long, dimly lit corridors, the echo of their footsteps stretching endlessly through the shadows.

Cazador stepped aside, gesturing toward the room with a sweeping motion. “Get some rest,” he instructed, his tone brisk and businesslike, as though already preoccupied with something else.

He pointed to a tall wardrobe across the room. “You’ll find clothes in there,” he said, then nodded toward a door just off to the side. “And there’s a shower through that door. Use whatever you need.”

Y/N glanced around the room, noting the small, unexpected comforts he’d provided. They felt almost out of place, given the circumstances. Cazador watched her closely, his expression as indecipherable as ever, before finally speaking. “What a strange girl you are,” he murmured, his tone threading somewhere between intrigue and something almost tender, though still impossible to decipher. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that suggested he was seeing more than just the surface.

She met his gaze, wary yet curious, a part of her aching to understand what lay beneath his cold exterior. But as much as she wanted to reach out, she held back, tethered by the uncertainty of his presence.

He lingered, as if caught in some unspoken thought, before abruptly turning away and disappearing down the hallway, leaving her alone with her unanswered questions and racing thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well hello little mouse, If you're reading this then thank you for making it this far!

Ive been having so much fun writing this, my notes are filled with so so many ideas hehe y'all aren't ready for the series...

Please leave a like and comment if you enjoyed :)

Cheers X

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