siren-in-the-shadow

[siren-in-the-shadow]

I am so fucking sick I feel like I’m loosing hearing in my left eye

[siren-in-the-shadow]

me when i search “Cazador X Reader” 😭

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Spies! Cazador X Reader

Plot: Cazador and you are spies on a mission to hunt down a man named Dross. Disguised as an elegant couple, you infiltrate a grand ball, blending seamlessly with the crowd.

The ballroom was alive with laughter, music, and the soft rustle of fine fabrics brushing against the marble floors. Nobles moved in graceful waltzes, lost in the elegance of the evening. But you, alongside Cazador, were here with one purpose: find Dross, the man you were tasked with bringing down.

Cazador’s hand was firm on your back as you danced, his presence impossible to ignore. Looming over you like some sort of predator, even though he was on your side. His touch sent shivers up your spine, a constant reminder of how close he was. He moved with confidence, his body in perfect rhythm with yours, his eyes scanning the room as if calculating every move. You could feel his gaze as if it were a physical thing, watching, waiting.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t ignore the fire simmering between the two of you. The closeness, the constant tension—it wasn’t just the mission.

“I swear, I don’t need you holding me like this to keep up with the plan,” you murmured playfully, leaning in his tall frame to whisper.

His lips curled slightly, but he didn’t ease up. “I prefer to ensure the plan goes smoothly, darling. Just focus on our role tonight.”

You shot him a quick look, eyes narrowed in feigned annoyance, but there was no hiding the way your heart raced at the way he held you.

And then you saw him. Dross. He stood near the edge of the ballroom, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Without a second thought, he turned and began walking toward a shadowy hallway at the back of the room.

“Now’s our chance,” you whispered, your pulse quickening.

Cazador’s hand tightened at your waist. “Stay close,” he muttered, pulling you forward as you both glided through the crowd with practiced ease, almost as though you had rehearsed this moment a thousand times.

You reached the end of the hallway, just in time to see Dross disappear into a dark room. Your heart thudded.

“Ready?” Cazador’s voice was calm, his fingers brushing over your back as he moved closer to the door.

You nodded. “Let’s go.”

But just as you were about to push the door open, a servant appeared, stepping out from a hidden alcove, his face slightly flushed from the noise and chaos of the ballroom. He looked at you and Cazador with wide, cautious eyes. “Excuse me, I… I’m afraid the ballroom is just—”

Cazador didn’t wait for him to finish. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you in closer as if to protect you from the servant’s intrusion. His touch was deliberate, possessive. You could practically feel his amusement radiating off him as he leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear.

“We’re fine,” Cazador said smoothly, his voice low but brimming with quiet confidence. His piercing gaze flicked down at you, an unreadable smirk ghosting across his lips, as though daring you to follow his lead.

The servant hesitated, his brows knitting together in slight confusion as if debating whether to press further—or call for backup. He glanced over his shoulder, clearly unsure if he should leave the two of you alone.

Not one to resist the opportunity for theatrics, you decided to play along, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. “That’s right,” you chimed in, your voice dripping with playful seriousness as your hand traced a slow path down Cazador’s chest, feigning intimacy with ease.

Before you could overthink it, Cazador closed the gap between you, his lips capturing yours with startling swiftness. The kiss was calculated, confident, and utterly disarming—designed to sell the illusion. The sharp edge of his teeth brushed against your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine as you leaned into him, a soft sound escaping your throat.

The servant blinked, his discomfort evident as his gaze darted between the two of you. He fumbled backward, his face turning crimson. “Oh, I… I’m so sorry,” he stammered, nearly tripping over his words. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—please, carry on—”

He didn’t wait for a reply, retreating quickly and muttering apologies under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd.

Cazador pulled back slowly, his lips lingering just a moment longer than necessary before he leaned close to your ear. “You play your role quite convincingly,” he whispered, his voice laced with amusement. “Though I doubt our friend will be rushing back anytime soon.”

He bowed awkwardly and scurried off down the hall, his footsteps echoing faintly in the corridor.

You took a breath, grinning at Cazador. “Can’t a woman enjoy a little alone time with her man?” you teased, arching an eyebrow as you glanced up at him.

Cazador’s smirk deepened, but there was something dark and amused in his eyes as he leaned down, brushing his lips near your ear. “You’ve got a way with distractions, I’ll give you that,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your fingers still pressed against his chest as the heat between you both simmered. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But don’t forget, this mission isn’t going to finish itself.”

His fingers brushed your waist again, his hand curling around you possessively. “I haven’t forgotten. Let’s finish what we started.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Dross isn’t going to know what hit him.”

You couldn’t help the thrill that ran through you at his words, the tension between you and Cazador still crackling in the air. You glanced toward the mysterious room where Dross had disappeared, and your mind snapped back to the task at hand.

Cazador’s hand rested on the door now, his eyes never leaving you. “Shall we?”

“After you,” you replied with a playful grin, your voice hushed but teasing.

You both moved toward the door, a silent understanding between you. The game was far from over, but with Cazador by your side—and with a little more playful strategy—it would be one hell of a ride.

Just a little idea I had that's been in my notes for agessss hehe😆

show some love if you enjoyed ! ❤️

Siren xo

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Hello! Could I request some "domestic" sort of thingy with Cazador and a kind and gentle reader? Maybe something where they are already in a relationship? Mayyyybe a bit of smut too, if you are willing? Maybe it starts with the reader making sure he's comfortable or something? And it sorta escalates from there?

If the request doesn't inspire you then please just ignore this silly ask. Happy writing and I cannot wait to see what you post next! Love your content. ☺️

Oh hey you ! 🥰 I'll try my best, here's a little blurb. Enjoy ❤️

Cazador X Reader : Claimed by you

The air was heavy with the faint scent of aged wine and wax, mingling with the faint metallic tang that always seemed to linger near him. Cazador sat at his desk, a perfect portrait of composure, the dim light casting sharp shadows across his sculpted features. His crimson eyes scanned a letter in his hand, his expression unreadable, yet you could see the tension in the tight line of his jaw. The same jaw that's pleased you countless times.

You crossed the room silently, your bare feet padding over the cold stone, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stiffened—not from surprise, but from habit, centuries of survival instincts making him coil like a spring. But when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, the tension bled away.

“Cazador,” you murmured softly, letting your thumb trace idle circles along his shoulder. “You’re overworking yourself again.”

He exhaled through his nose, a sound almost like a sigh, and leaned back into his chair, his long fingers setting the letter down with careful precision. “A man in my position does not have the luxury of idleness,” he said, his tone clipped but softer than usual when directed at you.

“And yet, I’ll still demand it of you,” you replied, your fingers sliding up to his neck, feeling the marble-like coolness of his skin. “Come to bed, I need you.” your hand softly goes down his chest.

His lips quirked into that familiar, sardonic smile. “Such audacity, little mouse. You presume to tell me what I need?”

You leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, tasting the faint bitterness of wine on his lips. “Yes,” you whispered. “And I’ll keep doing it, my love”

Something in his expression shifted then—a rare softness that he allowed only for you. He rose from his chair with his usual fluid grace, his towering presence enveloping you as he cupped your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed against your cheekbones, his eyes searching yours as though trying to decipher what had drawn you to him.

“Why do you do this?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, devoid of its usual sharpness. “Why waste your tenderness on someone like me?”

You smiled and placed your hands over his chest. “Because I love you,” you said simply. “And because you deserve it, even if you don’t believe it yet.”

For a moment, he said nothing, only studying you in the flickering firelight. Then, without warning, he pulled you into him, his lips capturing yours with a fervor that made your knees weak. His kiss was commanding, yet not without a certain reverence, as though he were claiming you and worshipping you in equal measure.

He guided you backward until the backs of your knees hit the chaise by the fire, and you let him lower you onto the plush surface. He hovered over you, his long fingers tracing reverent lines along your jaw, your neck, and finally the curve of your collarbone.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive, the words a promise and a warning all at once. “Every part of you belongs to me.”

“Always,” you murmured in return, your hands sliding into his hair, fingers threading through the silken strands.

His lips found your neck, trailing kisses down to the hollow of your throat. His fangs grazed your skin, just enough to make your breath hitch, but he didn’t bite. Not yet. Instead, his cool tongue flicked against the sensitive flesh, drawing a soft gasp from you.

“Such sweet sounds,” he murmured against your skin, his voice like velvet. “You tempt me, little one, more than you know.”

“Then let me tempt you,” you replied breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt. His fingers, cool and sure, explored your skin with a precision that left you trembling.

The intimacy of the moment wasn’t just in the touch—it was in the way his eyes softened when they met yours, the way his lips lingered on your skin as though savoring every moment. For all his power, for all his control, here with you, he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

And when he finally pressed his body to yours, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that left you breathless, it was clear: you weren’t just his. He was yours, too.

I am not good at smut, its wayyy too rushed to the point when I try to write it 😂 so my brain naturally counters this by trying to write it poetically...hope it was enough for you darling! 🥰

Siren x

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Hey, Siren! Can I request how would Cazador flirt and how can he interest a potential romantic interest? Just your thoughts 💚 (hc, little fanfic or whatever)

Have a good day! xx (keep writing, you’re great)

Thank you for the kind words darling 🥰 Below are some HC ❤️

How Cazador Would Flirt:

If Cazador were romantically interested in you, I feel like his flirtation would be very calculated, everything he says is something said with purpose and meaning. (perfect use for that gif am I righttttt hah)

Compliments: He would lavish you with the most refined and poetic compliments, focusing on who you are at your core. "You have a rare beauty, like a delicate work of art. Fragile, yet captivating enough to ensnare the most disciplined of hearts."

Playful Superiority: Cazador will probably tease you, always with a hint of dominance. He is not one to be a submissive flirt.

“It’s quite amusing," he murmured, his voice dripping with affection, "how you move through my halls as though you belong here. As if you’ve already conquered me."

His fingers brushed against yours, lingering just long enough for you to feel the cool heat of his touch, before he gently took your hand in his. "Tell me, my darling," he whispered, his voice now softer, almost reverent, "is it courage... or something far more dangerous that drives you so close to the flame?" 

When you hesitated, he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, his lips almost grazing your ear as he chuckled softly. "Either way, you are simply irresistible. I can't help but be utterly... captivated by you."

Prolonged Eye Contact: His piercing gaze would linger on your skin, creating an almost hypnotic effect. You’d feel his eyes on you crawling all over your body, almost wishing it were his hands instead. He’d ensure you felt the weight of his attention, as though the world faded away when he looked at you.

Subtle Touches: He would let his hand brush against yours or gently fix a strand of your hair, even if it wasn't out of place, making even small gestures feel intimate and deliberate.

Cazador stepped closer, his movements deliberate and unhurried, like a predator toying with its prey. His fingers brushed against yours as he reached for the book in your hand, the brief contact sparking an involuntary warmth that lingered far too long.

Possessiveness: He will definitely imply at some point that you belong to him, subtly staking his claim without being overt: "It would be a shame to see anyone else bask in your radiance. Some treasures are best kept... under lock and key." he says almost petting you as you lay beneath him, tucked away from the world.

Flawless Manners: Despite his intensity, he would remain composed and elegant, opening doors, pouring wine, and ensuring every moment in his presence felt luxurious and protective. He’s the type of guy to always be proud of his woman by his side and lay and soft hand on the small of your back. 

Vulnerability: While keeping his guard up, he might drop hints of vulnerability, these are always enough for you: "You make me remember things I had long forgotten. Feelings I thought were beneath me... how curious."

Confidence: Above all, his flirtation would exude confidence, making it clear he believes you’re already under his “spell” "No need to speak, darling. Your eyes betray you—you’re enjoying this far more than you care to admit."

Bonus:

Pet Names: How could I forget this !

Cazador’s flirtation often comes wrapped in a layer of possessive affection, and one of his favorite ways to express this is through pet names that blend his tenderness with dominance. He calls you terms that both claim and adore you, his voice a blend of warmth and control. "My dear," he’d murmur, his eyes dark with desire, "how you tempt me so." Or, with a smirk, "Little one, you continue to amuse me." When his tone softens, he might call you "darling", almost as though the word itself belongs to you. But when he’s feeling particularly playful or possessive, "little mouse" slips from his lips, a reminder that, in his eyes, you are something both fragile and entirely his. These names, always delivered with that knowing gleam in his eye, make it clear that you are his most captivating prize.

If you enjoyed please show some love ! 🥰

Siren xo

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Sweet! Astarion X Reader :

PT. 2

The cold air felt sharp tonight, and the chill seemed to seep into your bones as the evening deepened. You huddled closer to the fire, but the warmth didn’t reach you as much as you wished it would. The night was quieter than usual, the distant howl of wolves just a whisper on the wind. You slightly laugh to yourself wondering how shadow heart is holding up in her tent.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the cold, but it clung to you like a stubborn shadow. You hadn’t noticed Astarion watching you from across the camp at first. His sharp eyes never missed a thing, even in the stillness.

Without a word, he stood, his smooth movements almost graceful. You heard the faint rustle of fabric, then felt the weight of something draped over your shoulders. His coat, warm and soft, settled over your skin, the comforting scent of him lingering in the fabric.

You glanced up, surprised, only to find him standing closer than expected. His usual confident smirk softened, replaced by something much gentler. “You’re cold,” he murmured, his voice almost… concerned? The realization made your heart skip.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice a little breathless, surprised by the unexpected kindness. “But you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, a teasing glint in his eyes, though his touch was careful as his fingers brushed the fabric of the coat. 

His gaze lingered on your face for a moment, soft and full of something you couldn’t quite place. “But I do enjoy being able to take care of you, little one.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a second, you didn’t know how to respond. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found the playful smirk was gone, replaced by a quiet sincerity.

“Is it so wrong to want you to be comfortable?” he added, a little more quietly. “You mean more to me than you might realize.”

You swallowed, the words hanging between you two like a secret waiting to be shared. “I didn’t expect... this from you,” you admitted, your breath catching.

Astarion let out a soft chuckle, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the coat. “There’s more to me than you know, darling. I just don’t show it often.” He stepped back slightly, though his eyes never left you. “But I like seeing you like this—safe, warm. It’s... a nice feeling.”

Your chest tightened at the unexpected tenderness in his voice. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you feel this cared for, and something deep inside stirred. He wasn’t the same Astarion you had first met—the charming, cynical vampire spawn with a bitter smile. No, this Astarion was something else entirely.

“Thank you my Star,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

He gave you a small, private smile in return, his gaze softening. “Anytime little one...Anytime.”

Well there we go here is the alternate version of Part 1 I made ! ❤️

If you enjoyed please reblog/like 🌼

Siren

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Can I request Astarion x Sweet Reader please?

Astarion x Sweet! Reader

PT. 1

The evening air was cool as you wandered the quiet corridors of the camp, admiring the stars overhead. It was a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos, and you felt a strange sense of comfort in the stillness.

You were so caught up in the tranquility that you didn’t notice Astarion approaching until you heard his voice, smooth as velvet, interrupt the silence.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” His tone was light but unmistakably mischievous as he leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, watching you with that calculating gaze of his.

You smiled at him, warmth spreading through you from his presence. “Just enjoying the night,” you said softly, taking a moment to look up at the stars. “It’s nice to have a break from everything.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “A break?” he repeated, stepping closer with that predatory grace of his. “How positively quaint. I was under the impression you were one for excitement—yet here you are, indulging in the quiet. How very... sweet.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his teasing tone. “I enjoy quiet moments too. It doesn’t always have to be chaos.”

“Oh, how charming,” he drawled, though the hint of amusement in his voice betrayed his genuine curiosity. “You know, I often forget that such simple pleasures exist. Perhaps I should try one for myself.” His smirk deepened, a hint of mockery lacing his words. “But I’m not sure I could handle being this... wholesome for long. It might rot my insides.”

You smiled warmly, amused by his cynicism. “Maybe it’s not about being wholesome,” you said gently, “but about finding balance. I think you could use a little more of that.”

Astarion let out a sharp laugh, stepping closer, his gaze locked on yours with that dangerously intense look. “Balance?” he mused, his voice taking on a darker edge. “I don’t do balance, darling. I do indulgence. I do passion. I do... everything that leaves the sweet and innocent behind in favor of something far more interesting.”

He reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek lightly, his touch featherlight but possessive. “But I must admit,” he continued, his voice dropping slightly, “there’s something about you that makes me want to reconsider all of that. Something in your sweetness, your... unwavering goodness.”

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you. “You really are quite the puzzle, aren’t you?”

You felt a shiver at his words, but there was something different in his voice this time—less of the teasing and more of an unspoken admiration. Still, true to his nature, he couldn’t resist adding his signature flair.

“I’m sure your sweetness would be the death of me,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear with a wicked grin. “But I’d certainly die trying.”

I hope you liked it ! 🥰 wasn't really sure where to take this...but this is where I ended up haha ❤️

Writing this actually brought upon another fic idea. Here I tried to make Astarion a bit more game accurate with his sass and all. My next fic will be a Sweet! Astarion X Reader :) I guess it'll be a part 2?...

Update: part 2 is here !

Siren

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Just a reminder I am open to requests!

I write for Cazador and Astarion :)

Send me your juicy fic ideas, I have major writers block with my original fanfic series im making

I’m very emo about Cazador somone gimme some ideas to fuck with haha

Siren x

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Twisted Fate: Cazador X Reader

Chapter 8

word count: 1.6k

Y/N woke with a start, the soft glow of dawn filtering through the heavy curtains of her room. Well…Cazadors room she occupies. 

Her body was light, her mind calm, and the dull ache of exhaustion no longer clung to her like a second skin. 

She stretched luxuriously, savoring the rare feeling of contentment as a small smile tugged at her lips. Today felt different—fresh, as if the oppressive weight of her circumstances had momentarily lifted. With a renewed sense of purpose, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, ready to greet the morning and whatever lay ahead.

Y/N moved through the room with a quiet energy, slipping into a simple yet practical outfit. The fabric felt soft against her skin, a stark contrast to the hard edges of her usual reality. She tied her hair back, smoothing a few strands away from her face as she caught her reflection in the tall mirror. 

For a moment, she stared at herself, noticing the faint spark of determination in her eyes. With a deep breath, she adjusted the cuffs of her sleeves and strode toward the door.

The castle was silent as she padded down the stone corridors, the cool morning air brushing against her skin. Her footsteps were light, barely a whisper against the floor, as she followed the familiar path to Cazador's office. 

The flickering torchlight cast shifting shadows on the walls, but for once, they didn’t unsettle her. When she reached the heavy oak door, she hesitated only briefly before pushing it open without a sound, stepping into the room unannounced.

“You,” Cazador said, his voice heavy with surprise as his gaze lingered on her, “up this early? What’s the occasion?” He arched an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

Y/N couldn't help but smirk, her eyes sparkling with a touch of amusement. “What? Surprised I can function before noon?” she teased, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Cazador chuckled, though there was a hint of something darker in the sound. “I’m not surprised you can function at all,” he shot back dryly. “But early mornings? That’s new.” he gave a playful huff.

Y/N shrugged, unaffected. “Figured we could get a head start. You’ve got the map, I’ve got the energy. Why waste it?”

Cazador leaned forward, an intrigued glint in his eyes. “Energy, hmm?” His gaze swept over her with a mixture of wariness and something else—a glimmer of approval that quickly faded into amusement. “Do you even know what time it is?”

Y/N smiled knowingly, crossing her arms as she met his stare. “What, afraid you’ll have to work harder today?” she teased.

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “I’m never afraid of work, my dear,” he said, his voice thick with irony. “But I do appreciate when it comes at a reasonable hour. Not that I’m complaining... just surprised. You usually prefer your beauty sleep, no?”

Her smile widened as she stepped fully into the room, the subtle challenge in her gaze clear. “Today’s an exception. Besides, someone has to keep you on your toes.”

Cazador raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips quirking into a smirk. “I’m not sure I need any help with that, but I’m intrigued to see what you’ll do with the extra hours. Why don’t you lead the way, then?”

Y/N's grin softened into something more playful, and with a subtle tilt of her head, she gestured toward the door. “After you, my lord,” she said bowing and mocking his accent playfully, her tone light and laced with a faint edge of something that almost dared him to take the challenge she presented.

Cazador chuckled again, standing from his desk with a fluid motion, the surprise at her early arrival already fading into something more akin to anticipation. “Very well, let’s see what you’ve got in mind. Lead the way, my... eager companion.”

They exchanged one last look—half-mocking, half-genuine—and with that, they set off, the air between them crackling with the promise of whatever lay ahead.

Cazador adjusted the straps of his backpack with a quick motion, then turned to face Y/N, his expression as impassive as ever. “Our first leg of the journey will be easy enough,” he began, his voice steady, but there was a faint edge to it. “I’ve arranged for a carriage to take us to the nearest city, Blackthorn. We’ll travel in comfort for the first part—if you can call it that.

 After that, however, we’ll need to make our way on foot. There are several smaller towns ahead, but none with proper roads for a carriage, and I’m not about to waste time looking for one that will accommodate us.” He let the weight of his words settle between them before continuing. “We’ll hike from there. It’ll be grueling, but I trust you’re up for it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her gaze challenging as she crossed her arms. “So, I’m just supposed to listen to one step at a time, and not get the full plan?” she asked, her tone laced with a hint of irritation.

Cazador chuckled, a low, amused sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes,” he said simply, his lips curling into a thin smile. “That’s exactly how it works. Must keep you in line somehow.” He glanced at her briefly, his smirk never faltering. “Trust me, it’s better that way.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, her smirk matching his. “In line?” she echoed, the word laced with a hint of sarcasm. “If you think I’m entertained by you keeping secrets, you’re mistaken.”

She tilted her head, her posture still unyielding. “But I’ll play along—for now.” Her voice softened just enough to make the words more dangerous than they sounded. “Just don’t think I’m going to follow blindly. I’m not that easily controlled.”

Cazador’s smirk deepened, his eyes locking onto hers with a dangerous intensity. “Oh, I’m not asking you to follow blindly,” he said, his voice low and smooth, laced with a hint of amusement. “I just prefer to keep you guessing. Makes everything more... exciting.”

He took a deliberate step closer, his proximity radiating a mix of dominance and allure. “But don’t mistake my games for weakness,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a more dangerous tone. “I know exactly how to take control when the time comes. And you’ll learn that sooner or later.” His gaze never wavered, the unspoken challenge lingering between them.

Y/N held his gaze, her voice cutting through the air with a sharp, unwavering edge. “I’m not scared of you,” she declared, the seriousness in her tone undeniable, every word a challenge.

Cazador's smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if savoring the tension. He took a slow step back, studying her as though he found her response...intriguing. A flicker of something darker flashed across his expression, but it was gone in an instant. Without breaking eye contact, he gave her a deliberate, almost predatory smile.

“Good,” he said, his voice soft and dangerously calm, the satisfaction in his tone evident. “I’d be disappointed if you were.”

With a final, lingering glance, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his steps echoing in the silence he left behind, the air still crackling with the electricity of their unspoken exchange.

Y/N stood still for a moment, letting the weight of the interaction settle over her. Her heartbeat was steady, but there was a new tension in the air, one she couldn’t quite shake. After a breath, she straightened herself, her expression hardening with resolve. She wasn’t going to let him have the last word.

She moved towards the door, her steps deliberate, each one measured as she followed him. When she reached the front of the room, Cazador was standing by the door, his back to her, but he didn’t need to turn around to feel her approach. He knew she was there.

His eyes flicked to her over his shoulder, a silent challenge in them, daring her to step closer. He didn’t speak, just stood there, waiting. The tension between them thickened, crackling in the space, as though they were both poised on the edge of something neither of them was ready to admit.

Cazador’s gaze never left hers as he reached for the door handle, his fingers brushing the cold metal with practiced ease. With a single, fluid motion, he pushed the door open, the heavy wood creaking as it swung outward. He stepped aside, his expression unreadable, but there was a subtle tension in his posture—like a trap waiting to be sprung.

Y/N didn’t hesitate, her eyes locked on him as she moved past him, her movements swift and purposeful. She stepped outside, the early morning air sharp against her skin, and approached the waiting carriage.

The vehicle was extravagant yet also practical and quite sturdy. A few blankets were placed on the seats. The horses pawed at the ground impatiently as they prepared to move.

Cazador followed close behind, his presence looming, but he made no move to speak. Instead, he simply nodded toward the carriage door, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.

Y/N climbed inside, taking her seat with a quiet determination. Cazador settled across from her, his eyes still never straying far from her face as the door was shut behind them, sealing them in a shared silence. The carriage jolted into motion, the sound of the wheels turning over the rough ground the only noise between them as they began their journey toward Blackthorn.

The carriage rocked gently as it rumbled along, the silence between them stretching thin. Y/N broke it with a simple question, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “So…what now?”

Fun fact: This was almost going to be chapter 7! I was editing and thought hmmm I should add more detail. So I made this chapter 8 and completely re wrote chapter 7s plot. I really wanna take my time with this series.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed :)

siren xo

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Twisted Fate: Cazador X Reader

Chapter 7

word count: 1.3k

Y/N closed the door to her room, exhaling deeply as the events of the day caught up to her. "What in the 9 hells is my life?" she muttered, shaking her head as she made her way toward the bed.

She undressed slowly, her movements deliberate, the tension in her muscles loosening with each discarded piece of clothing. "A glowing sigil," she muttered under her breath, tossing her shirt aside. "Not just any weird magical curse—no, it had to be one that ties me to a centuries-old ass vampire lord. Fantastic." She slipped into the nightgown, the cool air brushing her skin. "Why can’t I have a normal life? 

Standing before the small mirror on the wall, she brushed her hair, each stroke lulling her further toward sleep. "How does this even happen?" she asked her reflection, her voice tinged with disbelief. "One minute I’m sneaking through a creepy castle, and the next..." 

She held up her wrist, glaring at the faintly glowing sigil. "This. What even is this? Did I trigger some ancient trap? Did he curse me on purpose?"

She leaned closer to the mirror, studying her tired eyes. "Why does my life have to be so... weird? Great. Just great."

Suddenly she felt dizzy upon looking in the mirror. She paused, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at the mirror again. "At least you’re enjoying reading about me, right? Even when I am a mess, you’re still here, wanting to know more...” Eyeing you almost intimately, as she asks suddenly, her tone dry but tinged with humor. "Right, Y/N? You’re feeling seen through me, hm?" She let out a soft breathy laugh, shaking her head.

Y/N suddenly felt hazy unsure why she suddenly zoned out. “Weird...” She thought as she padded to the bed, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. Sliding beneath the blanket, she sighed in contentment, the warmth enveloping her. "You’d think after all that, I’d be too wired to sleep," she mumbled, glancing at her wrist again. 

The faint glow of the sigil seemed to mock her. “Nope. Exhaustion wins." She rested her head on the pillow.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and her thoughts began to blur. "I’ll figure it out," she murmured, the words barely audible. "I always do." Within moments, her breathing slowed, steady and calm, as sleep claimed her.

Meanwhile, Cazador was in one of his many offices, standing near the grand windows, his figure framed by the moonlight. The ornate glasswork painted delicate patterns on the floor, the silvery glow giving the space an almost otherworldly beauty. He ran his gloved fingers along the edge of the window frame, his gaze fixed on the stars beyond.

He found a strange solace in the quiet of the night, his thoughts unusually restless. The words she had spoken earlier lingered in his mind, small fragments of her defiance and curiosity intertwining with his own musings.

The moonlight played across his features, softening the edges of his sharp countenance as he allowed himself a rare moment of reflection.

But the stillness soon became too much. With a measured step, Cazador turned and left the room, his footsteps soundless against the stone floors.

He descended the winding staircase, his mind an intricate web of thoughts as he made his way to the storage room where they had crossed paths the previous night. It had become a place of quiet contemplation for him—an unlikely refuge amidst the labyrinth of his castle.

Pushing open the heavy door, he entered the room, the faint scent of old wood and forgotten relics greeting him.

The moonlight filtered through the same ornate windows, casting a silvery sheen over the collection of artifacts and tomes.

The room seemed suspended in time, untouched by the chaos of the outside world.

Cazador moved toward the window, his steps deliberate, his posture regal even in solitude. He traced the intricate patterns of the glass with his fingertips, a faint frown settling on his lips.

This place had always been his sanctuary, but tonight, it felt... different. Her presence lingered, an intangible echo that stirred something unfamiliar within him.

He let out a quiet breath, his eyes drifting to the couch where she had sat, gazing at the stars with that irreverent spark in her eyes. It was foolish, he told himself, to think she might return. Yet the thought remained, an ember of hope he could neither snuff out nor fully comprehend.

Settling into the armchair near the window, Cazador rested his elbow on the armrest, his chin on his knuckles as his gaze returned to the moonlit landscape outside. The stars seemed impossibly distant, their light cold and unyielding. He envied their detachment, their freedom from the tethers of mortal and immortal burdens alike.

"Why her?" he muttered under his breath, the words slipping into the still air. He rarely spoke to himself—the act felt indulgent, unnecessary. Yet, here he was, voicing the questions that refused to leave his mind. "Why, after centuries of solitude, does fate choose now to bind me to someone? A thief, no less."

He leaned back in the chair, his gaze narrowing. "What am I to make of this curse?" he mused aloud, his tone sharp and bitter. "A cruel joke? Or something more insidious?" His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest, a small release for the frustration brewing within him. "A vampire bound to a silly little elf... it defies reason."

The memory of her expression flickered in his mind—the fire in her eyes when she challenged him, the way she refused to cower even when she should have. It was infuriating. And yet... "She’s clever," he admitted begrudgingly, his voice softening slightly. "Too clever for her own good."

His gaze drifted to the window once more, his thoughts circling back to her. "Perhaps that can be useful," he said, as though convincing himself. "Her determination, her stubbornness. If I can channel it, bend it to my will... perhaps this curse will not be a complete waste."

Still, unease gnawed at him. "But what does it mean for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Decades of control, of mastery over my fate, and now this? Am I truly so weak as to be tethered to another? To feel..."

He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. "No," he said firmly, as though the word alone could banish the thoughts creeping into his mind. "This is a puzzle to solve, nothing more."

And yet, as the hours passed and the room remained silent, the questions continued to haunt him.

His gaze lingered on the couch, and he found himself wondering—not for the first time—if she might wake and come looking for him. "Foolish," he muttered, shaking his head. But the thought stayed, stubborn and unyielding, much like the girl herself.

After a moment of silence, his voice broke through the stillness again, sharper now, as though he were reprimanding himself. "An elf, a thief, and yet she shows no fear. How ridiculous." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly. "What is it about her that gnaws at me? What is it that keeps me tethered to this absurd thought of her potential?"

His eyes fell on the artifacts lining the room, each a relic of his conquests, his centuries of power. "All these treasures, all these victories, and now I’m bound to someone so... mundane. And yet..." His voice softened, almost imperceptibly. "She’s not ordinary, is she?"

He leaned back again, letting his head rest against the chair, his gaze drifting back to the window. "Clever," he murmured. "Stubborn. Reckless. If nothing else, she’ll make this... interesting."

The faintest smirk played on his lips, though it was quickly replaced by his usual stoicism. "A little mouse and a predator” he muttered before falling silent once more, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily against the stillness of the room.

I've never written someone breaking the 4th wall, hope you liked hehe

I already have chapter 8 in my drafts, will post very soon :)

Please leave a like / reblog if you enjoyed !

siren xo

[siren-in-the-shadow]

If you have some headcanons/thoughts about details of Astarion x reader (s/o or whoever you write) and especially Cazador x reader besides the new chapters PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS 🙏🏼 (I love your works thank you!)

Hii darling🥰

I got youuuu here are some general thoughts I have about Cazador and Astarion below !

Astarion & Cazador Headcannons:

Astarion as a spawn would plan dates that feel cozy and personal.

Picnics, scenic hikes, breathtaking views, and, of course, a bottle of wine would be right up his alley. 

Dating Cazador, on the other hand, would be a different experience. Once he truly falls for you, he’d go above and beyond.

Lavish, extravagant dates would become the norm, dripping with luxury. 

He’d shower you with gifts—jewelry, fine lingerie, anything to see you adorned in the finest. 

Cazador has lived a life of opulence, so why not spoil the one he loves?

Occasionally he also enjoys a quiet evening in with you, but he is more so the type to show you off publicly

In public, Cazador would maintain his cold, imposing demeanour. 

If someone dared to flirt with you in his presence, his reaction would be instant, fiery yet stable. 

He’d visibly bristle, cuss them out, and ensure they regretted crossing him. 

Astarion, while also visibly angry, would handle the situation with a different flair. 

He’d casually drape an arm around your shoulder, smirking as he says, “She’s taken. Now run along,” his tone dripping with mock politeness and paired with an unmistakable stank eye. 

Astarion and Cazador truly are two sides of the same coin—similar yet starkly different depending on the situation.

Imagine sewing a button back onto one of their fine shirts... 

Astarion would notice the small act of care and feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. 

"Gods she...really does care"

He might not say anything directly, but the gesture wouldn’t go unappreciated nor unnoticed. 

Instead, he’d find a way to "repay" your kindness, perhaps by bringing you a delightful little treat from the local bakery?

Anything you've done for him he will always want to give back more to you

Cazador, however, would have a completely different reaction. At first, he’d confront you, his tone sharp: “You are not a servant. You didn’t need to do that for me.” 

Your genuine and sweet response would catch him off guard, and though he’d brush it off and return to his tasks, the moment would linger in his mind.

Later, as he fastens the fixed button, he’d pause, his fingers lightly tracing the stitch. 

A rare softness would settle over him as he realizes how deeply you care for him—a feeling he isn’t used to. 

It might even spark a need to reconsider how he treats you, afraid of pushing you away.

“What is this… hold she has over me?” he muttered, his voice low and strained. The realization tightened in his chest—she wasn’t a mere fascination as he thought. She was something real, something dangerous, and it terrified him.

Now imagine you’ve hurt yourself on an evening walk—a slight tumble, nothing serious…

Both Astarion and Cazador would react similar in this case.

That being with frustration, their emotions rooted in concern for you.

“If only you listened,” they’d both say, exasperated, as they sweep you off your feet. 

Astarion, ever the charmer, would brush you off with a teasing smile before leaning in to kiss you better, ensuring you’re truly all right. 

He picks you up bridal style claiming his girl must be carried

Cazador, though less outwardly warm, would take similar care.

Despite his sharp words, his actions—gentle yet precise—would betray his genuine worry. 

And when he finally sees you’re unharmed, even he couldn’t help but allow a small, fleeting smile to cross his lips before he kisses you better.

Cazador also picks you up, over his shoulder a slight playful spank to your butt as you yelp, he say "someone clearly needs some help walking today, hmm?"

(Damnnn that was hotter than I expected I enjoyed writing that HAHA)

Notice how they’re kinda similar…. ha

They can also be very different but it’s so situational in my head !! 

This is just how I view them, of course not claiming what I write is 100% lore accurate or whatever the fuck it’s just accurate in my head haha 😂

siren xo

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Hello! One of your newer fans (yes, FAN) and... I am curious... This is just a question and you don't have to write something specific for it... How do you think Cazador would act towards an s/o (whom he fell in love with, probably not by choice but the heart is fickle) with like... A very very sweet and kind person. Like... basically the mom-friend type. Not nagging, but also the sort who would quietly just kinda tend to his comfort? Someone who will always talk to him with absolute respect and kindness without needing to be prompted, because they are just... like that™. Someone who is basically very much an acts of service kinda person. The castle is chilly? Suddenly he has a blanket on his shoulders as he's sitting at his desk, doing important stuff™. One of his favourite jackets somehow ended up unravelling at the sleeves? He finds it the next day, fixed. Had a horrible day and he is in a sour mood? He gets a gentle hug, no words needing to be spoken just... quietude and emotional safety.

Hiii !

Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?💕

First of all, thank you so much for your kind words—it truly means a lot to me that you’d call yourself a fan 🥹 

I’m so grateful for your support, and it makes me so happy to know my writing has resonated with you 🥰

I think Cazador being with someone kind and nurturing would be fascinating. At first, he’d likely be skeptical or even unnerved by their kindness since it’s so unlike what he’s used to! But over time, I imagine he’d reluctantly come to cherish their acts of service, even if he struggled to show it….you know one day he’d end up adoring it slyly

Its always easier for me to write when someone wants something specific, my original stories are taking time because I have so many thoughts on the plot…amongst other things lol 

I've written you a little moment ! Enjoy :) 

Cazador X Sweet Reader !

The castle was silent, save for the faint scratching of Cazador’s quill against parchment. He sat at his desk in his dimly lit study, the only illumination coming from a few flickering candelabras on the table. 

The night outside was cold, the frost on the windows thick enough to distort the view of the darkened city below. Despite the fire crackling in the hearth behind him, there was a distinct chill in the room—one he stubbornly ignored. 

The door creaked open softly, and he didn’t bother looking up- knowing exactly who it would be. 

"I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to be disturbed," he said, his voice sharp, yet unconsciously quieter than how he'd speak to anyone else.

"I know," her voice answered, warm and soft as honey.

He paused, the tip of his quill hovering above the parchment. He didn’t turn, though his posture stiffened slightly as she approached. He heard the soft rustle of fabric and the faintest of footsteps, and then—without a word—a thick, velvety blanket was draped across his shoulders.

His first instinct was to shrug it off, to lash out at the presumptuous act, but her fingers lingered lightly on the edge of the fabric, grounding him. He waited to see if there was more she was there for.

"You’ve been working for hours," she said gently while brushing a strand of his hair softly. "It’s cold tonight."

The warmth of the blanket was almost immediate, but the touch of her kindness burned brighter. Another unsettling thought he knew he’d one day have to acknowledge. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, gripping the quill tighter to steady himself.

"I didn’t ask for this," he muttered, the edge in his tone softer than he intended.

"I know," she replied, with no trace of offense or hesitation. "But you deserve it anyway." She softly rubbed his arm before her hands slipped away, leaving only the weight of the blanket and her words behind. 

He finally turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of her retreating figure as she headed toward the door.

She paused there, glancing back at him with a gentle smile. "Goodnight, Cazador."

For a long moment, he stared at the door after it closed, the quiet of the study feeling heavier now.

His fingers brushed the edge of the blanket, where her soft hand once was. It wasn’t just the warmth he noticed—it was the faint, calming scent of vanilla woven into the fabric, a detail he knew she must have added just for him.

He let out a slow breath and turned back to his work. The words before him blurred, the image of her smile lingering in his mind like an echo he couldn’t shake. Frustrated, he slammed the quill down, the sound sharp in the quiet room. His hands clenched into fists, the tension in his fingers a reflection of the turmoil inside him. 

Though he didn’t say it aloud—he didn’t dare—he couldn’t deny the truth of it: for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the cold didn’t feel so suffocating. 

“Damn her,” he muttered, his voice low and venomous, though it faltered at the edges. “Damn her for this... for me.”

Yet even as the words left his lips, his fingers strayed to the edge of the blanket, tracing its soft fabric. The gesture betrayed him—lingering, hesitant, as if seeking comfort he could not name.

_________________________________________________________

siren xo

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Can’t wait for your updates and I hope you’re fine 💓

Aw thank you 💕 I always smile when I get these mssgs

I’m doing home renovations and I’m so sore from painting my room yesterday holy smokes!!

I have a rough draft of chapter 7 for my cazador X reader “Twisted Fate” series so hopefully next week it’ll be up!

Siren

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Oh my gosh!! I’m in shock! Thank you to everyone who got me to 500 likes!

I feel bad that i cannot write more for you all currently but i promise I’ll be back soon to write all the smut hehe. I’m going through an identity crisis atm 💀

Siren

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Hey yall,

I’ve never made a post like this before because I like to keep my page professional. But hey. I need to remind myself that this is tumblr 😂

I’m experiencing writers block and work and school have been so crazy. I’m also on my period so the one day I have off (today) I’ve spent it in bed.

I’ll try my best to post more chapters. It’s hard because mentally I’ve already written what I’ve wanted and completed the scenes so it’s hard for me to re experience the story again if that makes sense ?

Anyways! Xoxo

Siren

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Baldurs Gate 3 Fanfic Master List

Twisted Fate: Cazador X Reader

Plot: Bound by an ancient curse, Y/N and Cazador’s fates are inextricably linked—if one dies, so does the other. Forced into an uneasy alliance, they struggle with the growing tension between survival and something deeper that stirs whenever their paths cross. What secrets lie within the curse that binds them? And as the line between hate and something unspoken begins to blur, will they break free of this bond—or be forever interlinked?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

The Thirteenth Spawn/ Heart Of The Thirteenth Spawn: Astarion X Reader

(yes I couldn't decide on which title I liked more lol so both is gucci)

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 harbored for longer than he'd admit. 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? 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Kink/NSFW Alphabets :

Cazador X Reader : NSFW Alphabet

Astarion X Reader : NSFW Alphabet

Cazador:

Cazador X Sweet! Reader

Cazador and Astarion Headcannons

Cazador X Reader: Flirting

Cazador X Reader: Domestic Life

Cazador x Reader: Spies !

Astarion:

Astarion x Sweet! Reader Pt 1.

Sweet! Astarion x Reader Pt 2.

_________________________________________________________

Please Keep in mind that I only write the reader in She/Her :)

Siren

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Twisted Fate: Cazador X Reader

Chapter 6

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

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

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