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feyascorner · 3 months

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6 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You remember how the sunlight glistened against his skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press the sharp end against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.4k words,,,tav is better than me i would've thrown hands like twelve years ago,,,I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WROTE THIS IN LIKE TWO DAYS???? also thank you for all your comments they really motivate me to write!! so have this monster of a chapter early as thanks!!

"You'll kill them, Astarion," you mumble. "They might not have had the power to help you, but they're still your siblings. I don't want them to die hating you."

"They're not my siblings--not really. I don't care what they think of me. Hells, they could haunt me even in the afterlife, as annoying as that would be, but they're no innocents either. They've brought in as many souls as I have," he responds, his jaw visibly clenching at the thought. "I don't care if all seven thousand of them die hating me as long as you're here."

And while you feel flattered, you can't disregard the worry driving a hole through your conscience. Ever perceptive, he lifts a hand to brush stray strands of hair out of your face, his fingertips tracing your jaw. His voice is but a hushed whisper.

"You understand, don't you, my love? It would set me free--after two hundred years of forcing myself through hell--I can finally free myself from Cazador," his tone sours at just the mention of his master's name, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, drawing your attention back to him.

"It is what you want for me, no? For me to be happy?"

It is what you want. Just not like this.

Music was your way of releasing the mountain of feelings you kept locked away in your chest, waiting for the right person to recognize them for what they are. You’d hoped someone would understand the meaning behind your lyrics without you telling them outright, and they’d know what it truly meant to you. And for a while, you’d believed Astarion would be the key to this safe.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“While I usually entertain your certainly out-of-the-box plans, this is bordering on just foolish, I’m afraid,” Gale sighs, eyes tracing you as you pace around the house, stuffing every possible weapon and healing potion into a brown sack. Despite his insistence, you ignore him, testing the blade of a knife against the edge of the table. It’s not entirely dull, nor is it sharper than the dagger in your drawer, but it’ll have to do. “Simply charging into the tavern won’t do much good if you’ll be overwhelmed in number anyway.”

“I know what I’m doing, Gale,” you hiss, snatching an Alchemist’s Fire and shoving it a tad too hard into your bag. He tenses. “If they want to talk to me so badly, then I’m not waiting around for them to attack another one of my friends—I’ll go to them.”

“Yes, your determination is certainly praise-worthy, but can we please just sit down and think this through before running into a battlefield with a few knives? This is basically a suicide mission.”

“The wizard is right, even if it’s hard to believe,” Lae’zel announces from the corner of the room, wiping a cloth on her sword. “When I arrived, they’d already fled. They could be anywhere by now, and they’ve had more than enough time to plan another ambush if we were to charge now. We must be smart about this. I am a warrior, but I am no fool.”

“I’ll go by myself,” you say, a sense of finality in your voice. “They already showed what they’d do if someone they didn’t want to talk to approached them. I’ll just talk to them.”

Gale stares with lidded eyes. “So why are you packing so many explosives, exactly?”

“...Precaution?”

Silence befalls the room, and you take it as a sign to finish your preparations. All you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the rain falling against the windows of the home. The lot of you had somehow managed to stabilize Shadowheart by the time Lae’zel returned, and while she’d been conscious earlier, you insisted she rest before she consumed herself with the investigation again. You didn’t miss the way she limped back to her room with little to protest against you.

“Take the spawn with you.”

Two jaws drop at the words, the only one remaining fixed belonging to Lae’zel.

“The kainyank is living here to help. Not cause more problems for us. And so far, he’s only done one of the two things, and I’m dangerously close to turning to my blade if he doesn’t choose otherwise,” she says. “The spawn are searching for him, too. If blood breaks out, you must use him to flee safely.”

Gale blinks. “As in…use him as a body shield?”

“What else is he good for?”

While the wizard seems positively appalled, you can see the contemplation flicker in his eyes before he shakes his head. He's always been more considerate than the rest of you. “No, Tav would never agree to such a-”

“Okay.”

They both whip their heads toward you, and you avoid their piercing gazes, staring down at the dull blade in your hand. “It might help, too, if we find out why they want him. There are nearly 3000 spawns in the city—we can’t kill all of them, at least not immediately. It’d be best if we convinced them to leave, and the best way of doing that is to understand what they want in the first place.”

Lae’zel narrows her eyes. “Then you must swear it. Swear that if Astarion were to face risks, you will leave him behind. If he were to turn on you, you slice through his throat without a second of hesitation. He is there to aid you–nothing else.”

“I will,” the words feel hot on your tongue.

And so, you soon find yourself standing in front of his door, hand reaching for the door handle. There’s a slight pause right as you touch the cool metal, but you bite your tongue and shove it open, praying he’s still not as ravenous as he was a few hours ago. And much to your surprise, he appears wholly composed.

He lowers his book to his lap, eyes training themselves on you as they dart from your bag and then back to your face. The window’s wide open, bathing him in the moonlight, with dark curtains tied to the wall to keep them from obscuring his view of the city. He raises a brow. “What could you possibly want from me at two in the morning? Come here for a cuddle?”

You’re scowling again.

“I need you-”

“I’m flattered, but I fear you may stab a butter knife into my eye, so I’ll have to decline.”

“Not like that.” Your frown creases deeper at his smug grin. “We’re going to the Blushing Mermaid to find the spawn.”

“Just us?”

“They want to see us.”

“And if I refuse?”

The answer is almost immediate, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife on bread. “I hear the bloody bedrolls in the Duke’s dungeon are very comfortable.”

He drops his smile at this, and a tiny spark of pride puffs your chest. He seems to weigh his choices before snapping his book shut and standing from the bed, snatching a comb from his bedside table before pacing up to you, pocketing it behind him.

"A comb?"

He shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I doubt you’ll be giving me a weapon of any sort, so I must make do.”

You don’t correct him.

As the two of you make your way downstairs, you hear your other companions speaking.

“I didn’t expect you of all people to defend Astarion,” Gale says in disbelief, still comprehensive as Lae’zel poorly cuts up slices of an apple.

“I am doing no such thing, istik,” she mutters. “I am giving him a choice. Either to pick up his dead weight and prove his life is worth more than the dirt on my shoes or die at my hand.”

The walk to the Blushing Mermaid is painfully awkward. To you, anyway, because he seems positively unbothered the entire time. Seeing him leisurely follow behind you is irritating—and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit.

By the time you survey the area around the tavern, you’ve discerned they must be inside, considering there are no ambushes awaiting your arrival. While it’s a relief, it also increases the anxiety of what lies inside the tavern itself, and you confirm your knives are at your disposal if it were ever to come to that. You sincerely hope it doesn’t. Astarion sighs dramatically for the umpteenth time as you approach the front doors, and you finally snap to look at him with a glare.

“Will you stop breathing so damn loud?”

The change in your attitude toward him is apparent, but he doesn't seem to care. If anything, he seems more pleased with you than he was before every time you shoot him an annoyed glance or something along those lines. He responds with lazy answers, but it's better than the bitter ones he gave you before.

You're not terribly surprised, though. He's always loved pissing people off for his own entertainment, and it would be an understatement to say that he's been somewhat successful with you.

“I’m not breathing, my dear. I don’t need to, remember?”

“Then what is your problem?” you hiss between your teeth. “Are you trying to wake up the entire city with your insistent groaning?”

“Must we do this tonight, of all days? Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No!” you say in exasperation. “That gives them too much time to heal and recover from Shadowheart and Gale. It has to be tonight, just in case they do decide to fight—then we’ll have an easier time because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just us two!”

He sighs again, and you swear you might pluck a strand of his hair for good measure. And just as you shove past him and reach for the door, he clears his throat again. Loudly.

“For God’s sake, what?” you nearly yell.

He smiles at you, pointing at the front door. “Well, if we’re looking to avoid an ambush, perhaps we should find another way in than the main entrance. Unless my prior knowledge as a rogue proceeds me.”

You blink. You recognize the validity of his statement and feel your face flare, and you immediately march past him again—the other way this time—and search for the nearest wall you can climb up to the roof. You hear him snicker, but you do your best to ignore it.

Somehow, you manage to climb in through the window, admittedly a lot louder than him, but you don’t think it’s fair to compare yourself to him when he has footsteps lighter than a child’s. Hidden behind one of the tables, you peer into the rest of the tavern, which is completely empty save for the bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere. You turn to signal to him that the coast is clear, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Immediately, your face drains of color.

“Right here, darling.”

He drops down from seemingly thin air, and you gasp, nearly letting out a shriek if it weren’t for your hand covering your mouth. He grins at that.

Bastard.

“There’s nobody in the entire building–at least, not visible to the eye,” he confirms, glancing around the room.

“How do you know that?”

He points at the ceiling, and your eyes follow it. “Someone decided to build such useful beams on the roof. You can see the entire place from up there. Care to take a look?”

While you would have thanked him if he had been any other person, you only march straight by him. “Don’t do anything without telling me first.”

“No ‘thanks, Astarion’?” He quirks a brow but huffs when you ignore him. “Very well then, my liege. No need to acknowledge a humble servant such as I. But I shall let you know when I’m about to take any questionable decision.”

You’re starting to wonder if his presence is worth the headache it gives you.

Pacing around the tavern, it seems all too normal. No blood splatters against the wall, no broken chairs—hells, even the booze cups look clean, which is a rarity for the Blushing Mermaid. You check each room, inspecting down to the last cups in case there are traces of blood in them, but to no avail.

It’s like there was never anyone here.

“You look like you’re having trouble, my dear,” Astarion clicks his tongue mockingly, leaning back in one of the more luxurious chairs he’s decided is his own.

“Considering the only company I decided to bring along is lounging around like a bum, I’m not surprised,” you say back, now searching the smallest cracks in the walls for some sort of secret passage. It’s strange. Even though your companions had spoken of the bodies they encountered when facing the spawn, there’s not a single speck of blood in sight. Neither is there anything outside but the whistle of the wind.

“This particular wall must be quite fascinating.”

You fight the need to groan and whip around to snap at him, but he’s suddenly just a foot away from you, staring at the spot you’d been squinting at. Gods, you hate how quiet he is when he walks.

“As wonderful as it is getting a fresh breath of air,” he feigns disappointment with a half-hearted sigh, turning to walk toward the entrance. “I believe we’ve done what we can. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to return to my book–”

The wooden floor underneath him creaks. It sounds hollow.

As if there’s something underneath.

“The basement,” you blink, eyes wide. “The hag’s lair.”

He stares at you as if you’ve taken too many mushrooms. “It was sealed up after we rid of that dreadful woman. Good riddance, too, I mean, I’m not particularly fond of children, but eating them, even I wouldn’t be able–”

You rush toward the very corner of the tavern, sensing that he’s following you regardless of his obvious distaste toward your decision. There, you push against a table perched on top of the basement latch and test its locks.

It’s open.

“Heavens, it reeks here. How didn’t I smell it before?”

“Of what?” You sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Blood, my dear. Fairly recent, too, if my judgment hasn’t gotten rusty in the time I’ve spent cooped up in that room,” he pauses. “And I haven’t gotten rusty, to be clear.”

“Right,” you retort, reaching down to pull the latch open. You don’t see him do the same, and you glance at him quizzically.

“Gods no,” he says, when he realizes why you’re staring. “I’m doing no such thing that ruins these nails.”

You sigh. Loudly.

The latch opens relatively easily, but you make an effort not to simply swing it open in fear the occupants inside might be warned of your arrival. You prop the trap door open against a chair and begin your descent down the stairs, remaining as silent as possible.

The first thing you can notice is that he’d been right.

The stench of blood burns in your nose, and you immediately cover it with your sleeve to avoid inhaling anymore. You’ve smelt enough of your companion’s blood today, and you’d rather not continue the streak with the blood of complete strangers. Astarion, however, frowns.

“Such a waste,” he mumbles.

When you turn to where he’s looking, there’s a pile of bodies—poor victims, no doubt—lying over a puddle of their collective blood mixing with one another. It almost feels inhumane to leave them that way, just hours after their death, as if they’re cattle to be used.

Though, in this case, they are cattle.

“Are you sure it’s them?”

“I’m telling you it is!”

“Where’s their lyre, then?”

“How would I know that?”

You locate the source of the whispers instantly, reaching for one of your daggers as your eyes bore into the corners of the lair that are obscured from your view. Astarion steps forward before you can figure out a plan to approach them, arrogance exuding from his very body as he holds nothing but the comb tucked in his back pocket. “We can hear you, you fools. Come out before I lose my patience.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

“They’re only a few spawns, my dear. Nothing like Cazador—no need to be so cautious.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a woman emerges from the shadows, her eyes trained on your own as she marvels at your mere presence. You realize she’s not alone as multiple vampires begin to emerge from different corners of the room, all a safe distance away but not enough to ease the nerves jittering in your stomach. She steps toward you. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Another spawn steps beside her, and you immediately notice how ravenous he seems, eyes almost glistening with hunger as they bore straight into you. The woman puts a hand on his neck, seemingly soothing him, before he slumps his shoulders again, but the pure violence swirling in his head doesn’t seem to vanish. She then looks to Astarion, and the expression on her face morphs into something more akin to dread. “And you, brother.”

“Dalyria.” Astarion only stares with lidded eyes, visibly unfazed.

You instinctively scan the entire lair, searching for any differences you can spot since the last time you were here. The only glaring thing besides the bodies piled in the corner is the study desk on the other side of the room, scattered with different potions and concoctions. Behind the desk is an entire wall plastered with diagrams—most of which study the anatomy and functionality of what you can only determine to be a vampire judging from the fangs. There are also beds everywhere—though they look like they could collapse any second—and the room almost looks like a hospital.

The atmosphere between the siblings is so uncomfortable you’d think they’ll start attacking one another any second.

“Is Leon here?” you finally cut through, lowering your hand away from your blade. “I need to speak with him—technically, all of you.”

“How curious. We were hoping to speak with you as well,” she says, motioning all the other spawn to stand down. It does little to ease you. “By all means, feel free to go first.”

You take the opportunity, too exhausted, to demonstrate polite etiquette. “The spawn are causing too much trouble in the city, Dalyria. They’re killing too many people, and it’s getting noticed by more than enough people. At this rate, you’ll lose some of your own if the Fist figure out how you guys are hiding throughout the city.”

“...Yes, I’m aware.”

The resignation in her voice makes your throat bob, but you continue anyway. “I’m saying we need to get you guys somewhere more stable. Whether it be the Underdark or elsewhere, we can’t have you staying here.”

“I see,” she says slowly. “I appreciate you trying to talk this out with us, but I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”

Your shoulders tense, and you can see Astarion shift beside you. “You don’t understand, sister. There’s going to be an outright war at this rate-”

“Baldur’s Gate is our home as well, Astarion. You, of all people, should know this,” she demands. “We have a right to remain here, and if the Fist insists on forcing us out, we have no choice but to retaliate.”

“But you’re killing the city off!” you gawk in disbelief, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“We’re surviving,” she corrects, the corners of her lips turning downward. “Surely you can’t hate us for that.”

“Then…” you blink at her, positively appalled at her words. “Why the hells did you need to speak with me? What was worth putting my companion through hell?”

“...There is a way—for both parties to benefit.” She looks down at her hands, then back up at you. “I didn’t expect the both of you to come together. Our informants were correct when they claimed to see Astarion in your possession. In all honesty, we technically only needed one of you, but this makes things a lot quicker.”

Confused but desperately wanting an answer, you urge her to continue. Only you can see the way Astarion’s hand slips toward his pocket, where his comb lies.

“We were going to ask you to bring him to us, you see. But it appears you’ve already done the hard part.”

The dreaded intuition in the back of your mind tells you something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Me? What do you need me for?” he scowls.

She disregards him and continues speaking to you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “If you turn him over to us, you’ll never have to see him again. That is what you want, yes?”

Both you and the pale elf freeze.

“I watched as my brother nearly killed you the day of the ritual,” she continues. “I understand how you feel being betrayed by someone you thought shared your pain. And I believe this is a way to relieve you of that pain—and finally move onto a new stage of your life.”

She acts as if Astarion is the only thing holding you from moving on from the past few months of your life. And if she’d said so a week ago, you would have nothing to defend yourself with. But you’ve cut the few strings left that tie yourself to him. You remind yourself that you no longer care for him, regardless of the slight squeeze in your chest. You’ve already sworn to force yourself to disregard him, and you want to say all these things to her, but nothing comes out. So, instead, you keep your mouth sealed.

Astarion scoffs from beside you.

“For God’s sake, please tell me you’re not actually considering this. Let’s just force the madwoman out and go,” his voice attempts to stay firm, but it’s high-pitched at the end. He’s panicking.

You don’t respond to him, and he stiffens. “...My main concern is the city. If you think you can use my personal matters to convince me to just let you keep killing all these people–”

“That matter will resolve itself in its own time. We’ll return to the Underdark—or wherever it is you wish, and you won’t have to spend your nights hunting us down anymore.”

With a dry throat, you fixate your gaze on her face, desperately trying to discern any hint of a crack in her mask. Instead, you find nothing. “Why would you do that? For one spawn?”

“I’m afraid that’s for me and my siblings to know. But I can promise you that no harm will come to you if you take this deal.”

For what seems like the millionth time this month, you have no idea what to do. Lae’zel’s words flood you like a wave crashing onto shore as you remind yourself that Astarion is here not as your ally but as a shield. If things are as Dalyria says, simply turning over the man standing next to you would end this entire ordeal. You could return to your everyday life of repairing the city, learning to heal and grow from the terrors of the illithid invasion. You could learn to let people in again.

You could learn to play music again in hopes of finding the person you dreamed would understand.

Such an enticing, perfect deal. It’s almost too perfect. But you’ve learned not to trust perfection, especially when handed to you by a vampire spawn.

Astarion, who had been observing your expression this whole time, almost seems to read your mind. Or perhaps he’s just feeling selfish, ready to defend himself. “You’ve created a lot of problems for me, dear sister. I’ve gotten accused of your own murders, thanks to your pets.”

The delirious spawn, who’d looked sluggish after Dalyria’s soothing, now bares his teeth at Astarion. Dalyria attempts to calm him again, but it’s no use. The bloodthirst cannot be satiated unless there’s blood spilled on his very hands.

Astarion doesn’t seem to take a hint—or maybe he does but chooses to simply ignore it. “I’ve always known you were strange, Dalyria, but really? Experimenting with your ‘useless procedures’ on fresh spawns? He looks positively possessed, sister. He might just resort to eating you instead.”

“They are not useless, Astarion,” she snaps. “I am a doctor. I’m only curing what needs to be cured.”

“Then tell me why you haven’t managed to cure yourself of our curse? You may be intelligent in medical aspects, but gods above, you are more foolish than Cazador himself if you really think you can cure vampirism.”

“I had nobody to test my ideas on for two centuries, Astarion! Now that I do, surely I can-”

“You’re starving them, Dalyria,” he snaps, tone drastically different from the banter you shared just minutes ago. “And they’ll give into the thirst sooner or later.”

His words are the final straw.

The spawn who’d been standing beside her launches himself toward you. Before you can even register what’s happening, his fangs are at your throat, your neck tilted so it shoots pain up your side. Just as you feel your skin split at the tips of his canines, Astarion rips him away from you so harshly that the spawn flies helplessly into the wall, which crumbles under his weight. Dust flies into your eyes, and you cough, wiping at them until it clears just enough to see Dalyria staring in horror.

“I told you, Dalyria. You are no doctor, not anymore,” Astarion scoffs, eyes narrowed into slits. “And I’m afraid I can’t let you kill my liege here, as I’d much hate to be trapped in a cell somewhere underground.”

You reach the specks of blood drops forming on your neck, horrified by the close encounter you had with death just seconds ago. The culprit of your injury lies unconscious beside the cracked wall, and you wonder just how hard he had to be thrown to be rendered in such a state. You can see the other spawns’ eyes practically glow at the sight of your blood—fresh, unlike the pile of corpses on the other side of the room.

She turns to you, desperation pouring from the wavering of her voice. “Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t make us enemies. All you need to do is give us Astarion. My brother, for heaven's sake!”

You think better of it. Something that obviously pleases Astarion if the way his face relaxes tells you anything.

“May I?” he glances at you.

Surely, there are ways–more civilized ways–-than drawing your blade, but the ferocious growling from the rest of the spawn tells you otherwise. You need to find out why she needs Astarion so badly, and clearly, she’s not willing to tell you unless it’s through pure force. You despise the idea as much as you despise the predicament you’re in, but you refuse to be attacked and deliver nothing back. Just as you nod to his question, another spawn lunges, unable to resist the red staining your neck.

But it’s smart this time, choosing to eliminate any threats before turning to the full course. In this case, the only thing between you and the vampires is another vampire.

“Brother!” Dalyria shouts, horrified.

You don't bother calling his name, only barely manage to tackle Astarion out of the way before the spawn’s claw sinks into the very ground he was standing on just seconds ago.

As embarrassing as it is to practically crash on top of him, both of you wince because it’s more painful than anything. You force yourself up with your arms, and it’s then that you see even more spawn crawling from whatever shadows they hid in, and you realize you are terribly and most definitely outnumbered. By a lot.

“Dalyria, if you’re truly a doctor, do something! Stop them, godsdammit!” you shriek in her direction.

“They’re not—they were doing so well!...” she gasps before she reaches for a tattered journal and desperately files through its pages in a frenzy. “They were nearly docile before. I don’t know why–”

You feel Astarion’s hands slip out of the sack you carry on your back, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him opening it. He’s still lying flat on the ground, and you look down at him, puzzled before he laughs bitterly.

“I’ll be borrowing this for a few minutes, darling.”

You barely dodge another spawn that comes flying at you, rolling off of him and practically slamming into the wall. And before you can crawl away, your knife—in Astarion’s hand—stabs through the spawn’s left eye through the back of their head, specks of their blood splattering against your cheek.

You want to throw up.

“No, don’t harm them! Please, just let us go!” Dalyria pleads, but you’re finished being patient with her. She clearly has no way of calming the spawn, and you’re tired of being thrown around like a ragdoll in the mess that is the lair.

You yank out the Alchemist’s Fire and chuck it at the nearest cluster of spawn—around 2 or 3—and flinch as the vial collides and explodes into flames right before your eyes, blowing your hair out of your face in a gust of smoke and wind. You swear you hear Astarion cackle in utter glee at the destruction, but you choose not to dwell on it, too busy figuring out how else you could get out of here alive.

“You’re ruining the patients!” Dalyria screams, and you almost regret not throwing the vial at her instead.

“Your spawn are the ones attacking us!”

Suddenly, her face goes impossibly pale, and you hear a hiss of pain from a few feet away. Astarion winces as one of the spawn claws at his chest leaves behind a reasonably deep wound following the path of their sharp nails. Your knife is kicked away from him, and you hear Dalyria again just as he reaches for the comb instead. “Brother, be careful!”

You’re not sure if she wants you and Astarion dead or not, but it’s seriously giving you backlash at this point.

He stabs the comb into the spawn’s neck and kicks him away, and you take the opportunity to send the knife he dropped through the air.

By some miracle, it pierces straight through the spawn’s arm. Astarion lets out a breathy laugh from the floor, attention glued to your handiwork. “Ha! And to think that could have been me!”

And while you want to admire your aim yourself, there’s no time. Dalyria’s footsteps rush up the stairs, out of the basement, and you realize you need to follow moments after Astarion, who’s already fleeing up the steps, cursing under his breath. “That demented wench!”

You stand to follow after him, but the remaining spawns are already blocking your way. There are only two more, but you brace yourself for the worst, reaching for whatever remaining weapons you have left in your sack. The smoke and debris feel suffocating in your lungs, but you have no choice but to push through, praying to whatever God you can remember at the moment that this be the last time you have to fight this many vampire spawn. Or any, for that matter.

You wish you had left your fighting days behind you when you defeated the elder brain, but you suppose even that was too much to ask for.

You arrive just in time to see the sunrise.

Lying against a wall is Astarion, who you find just before the sunlight hits the part of the ground he’s on. He’s clutching his shoulder, which drips with his own blood, and showing no signs of the quick vampire regeneration. You stare down at him, face stoic as you wait for him to say something.

Judging from his condition, you assume Dalyria got away.

“Leaving me to die here would be unwise,” he scoffs. “Though it’d be rather easy to let me burn to death in the sun, I must remind you that I much rather prefer decapitation if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’ll consider it,” you reply curtly. "Can't promise anything, though."

He leans his head back, amused. The sunlight is just a few feet away now, and you wonder how long it's been since he's been outside to watch the sunrise. “You’ve always had a cruel streak in you. I just had to lure it out, sometimes, but when it did come out—Gods, you should have seen it yourself.”

“You’re delirious,” you remind him, observing just how much blood he’s losing. You remind yourself of your resentment when worry probes a small part of your heart. One that you hope dies soon. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I haven’t been exactly feeding well, unfortunately. And days old boar’s blood can only sustain me so long, darling,” he lulls his head forehead, sneering to himself. “Now that I think about it, dying by sunlight sounds rather poetic, don’t you think? Perhaps you can make a song about my glorious death.”

He’s definitely unhinged from blood loss.

You sigh, tossing his arm over your shoulder as you deem the sunlight a bit too close now. It’s a slow process with your own body’s soreness, but you manage to drag him to a more shaded area, propping him against the wall there so that you can rummage through your sack for a healing potion. You stop when his hand latches onto your arm.

“What?” you frown.

“It won’t help. I need blood, my dear.”

“There’s none for you here.”

“The bodies in the basement,” he bites back a groan, more blood gushing out of his shoulder. “I can make use of them--give their deaths a sense of purpose."

The displeasure on your face must be apparent because he laughs.

You pause, lowering the sack onto the ground. While you’re illuminated by the sunlight now, he remains in the shadow of the building, only able to see the sun with how it reflects off of your skin. And you find that he’s no longer looking at you but looking past you into the glowing orb you call the sun. You remember how its light glistened against his own skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press its tip against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

His eyes widen, and the temptation is more than evident with how his mouth falls open as if he tastes your blood from a few inches away. But as fast as it had come, he tears his eyes away. “I’m not taking your blood.”

“Stop with your prideful act, Astarion. You’re going to bleed out.”

“I wouldn’t die, exactly. I would just remain unconscious until I can properly heal myself.”

You spare him a long, hard stare. He refuses to look at you, biting the inside of his cheek to ignore the scent of your blood. And it's painfully clear he's failing.

You have no idea why he's so insistent on avoiding your blood, but you refuse to spend your own time pondering it.

“Fine then.”

He watches in utter loss as you lick the blood off of your finger, shrugging. “Bleed out for all I care.”

You turn to stand, but his hand latches on your arm once more. You’re not sure if you’re imagining how warm he feels, but you think you must be. He's always been terribly cold.

“Do you hate me now?” he asks again, this time staring up at you through his lashes. “Have I finally run through your patience?”

The question remains the same as he asked you a week ago, but it feels different now. This time, you know your answer, and it feels so, so relieving. You just wish you could understand his own feelings, but his expression is so superficial you don’t even attempt it.

“Yes,” you reply blankly. “I hate you.”

He takes a moment to process your words. You have to admit it’s satisfying to say it to his face, even if your hatred for him is new. But perhaps because it’s new is why you feel it so strongly, and you silently thank it for how confident you sound saying the words. Even if they taste bitter. You think he might have some quip to respond with, but he only smiles, and as usual, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You never want to see it again.

Without another word, he pulls you down to him, and you nearly topple over before stabilizing yourself with either of your knees on either side of his legs. He breathes against your neck, and you think he might drink from you until you feel his fingers brush against your nape. Immediately, your body freezes like a deer in headlights, flinching at his touch as your mind involuntarily forces the last memories you have of his hands on your neck.

And ever so perceptive, he notices how you recoil from his touch.

You hate your body for reacting the way it does out of fear. Not the disgust or the anger, but something much more pathetic, and you want to go back on your own actions to stop yourself from appearing so weak to him. You think he might tease you--taunt you, even, but he stops, slowly pulling away and lowering his head from the crook between your shoulder and head.

You’re unable to see his face, but his movements seem more sluggish.

Instead of going for your neck, he lifts your wrist, brushing his lips against it before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh.

Despite the initial sting, it’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to over time. With him, it had always felt so intimate. It’s why you can’t help but feel heat bloom across your cheeks before you remind yourself you no longer care for him. Only when you think he’s drinking a bit too long do you try to pull away, but his arm loops around your waist, bringing you even closer as the amount of blood he’s taking increases with how deep his fangs are.

You feel so cold, yet heat burns through your very blood. It makes your head dizzy, and you take it as a sign that he’s had enough.

You only manage to speak a few seconds later, breathless. “Astarion.”

He pulls away, seemingly out of breath himself as he releases his hold on the rest of your body. He runs his tongue over the access, staining the side of his mouth. He uses his finger to make sure the rest is off his face. “I know.”

He rarely feeds so messily, so you discern he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t been drinking well. Knowing he wasn’t deceiving you brings little relief, but it’s still a welcome feeling. Rubbing at your wrist and the two puncture wounds now residing there, you stand up and slug your sack over your shoulder. He watches you the entire time, and you hate that you can never seem to read his expressions—only one, and that’s whenever he claims to despise your very existence.

His shoulder has already stopped bleeding.

“Why didn’t you drink from those people at Sharess’ Caress?” you finally say.

“Their blood…” he pauses, trailing off, and suddenly he seems to change his mind. “...I've grown tired of it.”

“Blood is just blood, isn’t it?”

He stares at you for a moment, then laughs.

“I wish it was, darling.”

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @aelieknox @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @bitterbeanren Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst

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yourfriendowlbear · 4 months

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Name Day

Astarion x gn!reader

Summary: It's your name day. Astarion wants to do something special for you.

today is my birthday, so I figured I'd write something a little self-indulgent

It’s your name day, and Astarion has been frantic

He doesn’t remember much about his life before Cazador, but he knows that birthdays are a big fucking deal for elves

And whether you’re an elf or not, he wants to do something. If you are an elf, it’s all the more important for him to celebrate accordingly.

He’s freaking out. What in the hells does he do for you? What in the hells can he get you?

He’s more than happy to buy you anything–he’s more than happy to steal you anything, but you have everything reasonable that you could want.

Nothing seems good enough for you. He knows that you’ll more than likely love whatever he ends up with, but that doesn’t mean he’s cutting himself any slack.

He’s so desperate that he goes to Gale. He’s got ideas, but he’s just a vampire with limited resources and limited nighttime hours. He knows when he’s at a disadvantage, and though he’s loathe to ask for help, he isn’t willing to fumble this.

So he convinces you to visit Waterdeep and to drop in on your wizard friend, who has insisted on numerous occasions that you’re more than welcome at his tower any time.

It takes a few days, but Gale does manage to enchant something for Astarion to gift you. The wizard had helped him plan it, and he’d basically had to create the enchantment from the ground up. It’s beautiful, and he absolutely cannot wait to give it to you.

The day of your birthday arrives, and you’re at your shared home in Bloomridge, in the Lower City of Baldur’s Gate. The house–like many of the homes in the neighborhood–is built onto the side of the city wall. It’s small but not cramped, with a large, inviting kitchen, a cozy drawing room, and two bedrooms. Two balconies–one off the main bedroom, one off the drawing room–look out over the city and Grey Harbor.

Astarion is nervous, and he’s never been more glad to not have a heart, since it would probably give him away.

It’s evening. The two of you have just gotten up. You’re sitting out on the balcony, curled up on the outdoor settee. There’s a lantern hanging on a hook above you as you read. Astarion’s arm rests around your shoulders, a book clasped in his other hand. You’re nestled into his side, a barely held together ancient tome in your lap. Scratch lays on the ground in front of the settee, head on his paws.

A raucous laughter pierces through the foggy evening. Karlach and Lae’zel are the first to appear on the stairs.

Leave it to your merry band of misfits to disrupt the peace of your little neighborhood.

You’re off the couch and at the front door in a flash. Scratch gives a confused woof before trotting off after you. Astarion can hear you laughing as you let them all in.

By the time he can see you at the door, you’re being squeezed by Karlach. Gale stands, grinning, in the hall. Wordlessly, he nudges a package into Astarion’s hands.

Wyll has brought a cake. Lae’zel carries something that looks strangely like a sword wrapped in paper. Shadowheart has a little box.

As you lead them all in, Gale hands you a large bottle of Blackstaff wine.

You drink and laugh with these people who, over the course of only a few months, became your best friends. And as much as Astarion hates to admit it, he loves them for showing up for you.

Eventually, Karlach pushes you to open the presents they’ve brought.

As expected, Lae’zel has brought you a Githyanki sword, a traditional gift for warriors on their name days. Shadowheart has brought you a necklace that she’s blessed.

Astarion saves his for last, sliding it into your lap when you’re laughing at something Wyll has said, your voices all a little louder from the wine. You look at him, a little confused, but you tear the paper off anyway.

You’re even more confused when you discover six stone tablets and wooden styluses inside.

Gale takes pity on you, and picks one up, using the stylus to write ‘happy name day, tav’ on one of the slates. You gasp when it appears on the other five almost immediately.

“So you can talk with everyone when you need to,” Astarion explains. He hates how soft his voice sounds, but gods above, he put a lot of thought into this. He so desperately wants you to like it.

But his fears evaporate when you launch out of your chair, your arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug.

He laughs and hugs you back, relieved that, for once, he could give you something nice, something you deserve, so that he could show you just how cared for you are.

#astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion headcanons #astarion fic #astarion romance #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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maple-the-awesome · 3 months

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Body Swap || Part 2/2

Part 1 ||

Pairings: Legend, Time, Twilight, Warrior x Reader

Overview: A wizard's spell leaves you both in a state of confusion, especially upon realizing you're no longer in your assigned bodies. No Wind for this one, so we'll just give him a cookie and spare him the trauma for today -.-/🍪 The other boys are at my mercy, though

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Panic ensues nearly the second your situation becomes realized. Legend frantically tugs at his hair and clothing, hoping this to be some sort of illusion cast by that wizard, however his senses only confirm his fears: you've switched bodies.

You're him and he's you which probably shouldn't be as big of a deal as he makes it out to be considering how much worse this could've gone, after all, a greater enemy might've caused actual harm, yet that doesn't stop him from being upset.

Out of everyone this could've happened with - out of all nine of his traveling companions - why did this have to happen with you, the only girl in the group?! Nevermind that you're also his crush!

"I can't believe this..." He groans, picking at another strand of hair and holding it in front of his face. Alas, the color isn't the same as his usual faded pink, "Give me back my body!"

You whip your head around at Legend's demand, finding yourself mildly offended by it which is shown through the placement of your hands on your hips, "Don't you think I would if I could? Like it or not, I think we're stuck like this –"

"- Are you kidding me -?!"

"- Until the spell either wears off or we find a way to reserve it," You narrow your eyes when he interrupts. Standing, you dust yourself while he copies the action except with some added complaints and curses mumbled under his breath.

"I can't believe this. Of course, this is how my day would end. I can't ever catch a break, can I?! The others are never going to let this go. It's all we're going to hear about for the next week!"

"Geeze, I didn't know a day in my body would be so terrible for you."

Legend frowns, not intending to make you feel bad. It's not like you asked for any of this yourself. You’re equally as inconvenienced. It's just...reeeally weird and uncomfortable knowing that he's technically you right now. He's currently in the body of the girl he finds most attractive and sometimes daydreams about –

"I'm sure you're not having any more fun than I am. Let's just get out of here and find a solution as fast as possible, okay?" Legend hastily grabs your hand, intending on getting you both out of this dungeon before you can notice the redness to his cheeks (at least, he's sure he'd be blushing if in his own body right now. Is it even visible on your cheeks, though?), however almost as soon as he pulls, he's nearly thrown back against your unmoving weight.

Kill him now. He isn't used to not having his power bracelets.

"Did you...want me to follow you?"

"...Obviously..."

"Do you also want me to hold your hand so you don't get lost?" You give his hand a squeeze, all the while wearing a shit-eating grin that makes his face even warmer than before.

"...Forget it and fuck off," With that, he drops your hand and marches off, yet you aren't far behind, chasing after him while clearly having too much fun with his reaction.

"You know, this is usually the point when you ask me if I'm on my time of month! Is that your problem, Vet? You're already hormonal after just a few minutes in a girl's body?"

Has his laugh always been this obnoxious? Does he owe Warrior an apology?

"...Well, this is troublesome."

Your eye twitches after Time's calm 'evaluation' of the situation, "...'Troublesome'? You THINK?! You know, when I woke up this morning, I did not expect to end up becoming a sixty-year-old man -!"

"- Sixty? Is that how old you think I am?"

"Well, you act like it sometimes!" You defend, huffing at the end of your sentence before trying to rise onto your feet which still feel wobbly due to that wizard's spell. It takes you a second - and you almost tumble forward like a newborn giraffe, causing you to start swinging your arms around in a desperate attempt to regain balance - but eventually you do succeed in the basic human function called 'standing', "We need to find the Veteran. This is his stupid world, so I'm blaming him for this happening!"

Time, meanwhile, takes pity upon you by letting your previous comment slide. Unlike you, he easily gets to his feet as if ending up in someone else's body is an everyday occurrence for him. His new height is something you take immediate notice of, mentally noting how strange it is to be looking down at someone – let alone him – from so far up. Is this how it always feels for him? No wonder he took on the mantel of being the 'dad' of the group so quickly. You all probably look like literal children to him!

"Thank Hylia we camped close to the dungeon. The others should be getting ready for dinner at this point, so they'll all be in attendance to take joy in our misery," You smile sarcastically with a wave of your hand, however you only take a few steps forward before turning around and realizing that Time isn't following you. His face also looks rather...alarmed?

"...You okay there?"

He hums and gives you an awkward thumbs up, yet that doesn't change his expression any nor does he immediately move to follow you. He simply stands there, his face bright with embarrassment until he finally clears his throat, "I...think I might've had an accident?"

"An 'accident'...?" You scrunch your nose, needing a moment to understand what he could possibly mean. Did he just piss himself as you? You would've thought he'd have more self-control even if he isn’t technically himself. Sure, it might be scary opening your eyes to find yourself in someone else's body, but it's not that scary to warrant - ...Oooh...You get what he means now...

When the realization sinks in, you can feel your own face grow warm. You had forgotten all about that, "Oh shit. I, um...Yeah that's not – It's harmless, really. You'll be fine, it's just -...You know what, just don't worry about, okay? Let's focus on getting ourselves switched back around first. You, uh...gonna be okay dealing with it for now?"

Sympathy laces your voice, however it isn’t exactly strong enough to hide your embarrassment. Seriously, could this get anymore modifying? You weren't trying to think about the whole 'my-crush-is-currently-in-my-body' thing, but you definitely can't ignore it now! Out of all the days of the month this could happen - How embarrassing for you both!

Fortunately, Time, ever the brave gentlemen, nods, that be it slowly and unsurely, "If you can do it your whole life, I can manage for a day..."

"That's the spirit!" Please, please, please say Legend knows a solution for this because you will absolutely die if you have to talk Time through a 'change' of certain materials tonight.

“Oh no…”

“What do you mean by ‘oh no’? What happened? Are you hurt?” Twilight’s voice – which doesn’t really sound like his own – gets progressively more concerned by each question until he finally manages to escape the wall of smoke around him. Once finally receiving a clear view of his hands, he suddenly understands the meaning behind your less-than-thrilled expression.

“That’s what I mean by ‘oh no’,” You frown, watching as he flips his hands around front and back to confirm the notable difference he sees. It would be difficult to ignore how much smaller and smoother they’ve gotten…or to turn a blind eye to all the other major variations throughout the entirely of his body.

“Has anything like this happened to you before?” Whatever surprise you have towards your shared predicament is either quickly recovered from or masked well, because you don’t hesitate to pick yourself up and start collecting your fallen belongings – or rather Twilight’s – from the ground.

“Can’t say it has. I’m guessin’ you’re in the same boat?”

“Yeah, this is the first time I can knock ‘switching bodies’ off the bingo board,” You shake your head, pausing to watch him stand as well, “I know Wind mentioned being able to control other people’s bodies or something like that before. ‘not sure if it’s the same or if he’d know how to fix this.”

“Even if not, we’re in Legend’s world. He’d have to know some kind of solution,” Twilight sighs, going to place a hand on his hip out of habit, but he instantly decides against it in a quick movement he hopes wasn't too obviously. Even if he's consciously in this body, it's still yours. Touching his hip now would be no different from touching your hip any other time which is NOT a friendly place for hands to be! At least that's what his awkward brain tells him.

Trying not to dwell too much on any of that, he makes himself useful by plucking your dropped sword off the ground and returning it to your scabbard the same way you had done with his before reaching down to grab -

“- Don’t touch that!” You’re startled to a halt by Twilight’s sudden shout and turn to give him a puzzled look as he gulps while eyeing the shadow shard you were inches away from picking up next, “It, uh…It’s sharp.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, and for a second he’s worried he might just have to tackle you to prevent you from touching the object in question (which now that he’s considering it, would probably only be as effective as a sparrow attacking a horse seeing as you’ve switched bodies not to mention you’d only have more reason to question him in that case but -)

“- All you Links are such terrible liars,” You huff after a minute. Nevertheless, you step aside and allow Twilight to pick up the necklace himself. He’s careful to only touch the string and tuck it securely in a pocket because the very last thing he needs added to this day is you finding out one of his greatest secrets by literally becoming it yourself which would then undoubtably lead to his second greatest secret being discovered, after all, it's one thing for a random wolf to let you give him kisses free of charge, but there'll be a lot more to unravel there if you find out it's been your travel companion the whole time.

"Okay. Try not to panic. There has to be some way to reverse this - ARE YOU CHECKING ME OUT RIGHT NOW?!"

Warrior jumps with a start after having been caught, although he must not be too embarrassed because he doesn’t immediately remove his hands from their place on his hips nor does he show much shame in currently having his body turned at an angle to look at his – or more importantly – your back side, “What?! You do it to yourself all the time!”

"T-That’s not - When I'm in my own body!” You stammer, blushing at the realization that you apparently haven’t been as subtle with your habit of checking your own appearance here and there, “Excuse me if I don’t want to walk around looking like a mess with dirt and leaves stuck to my backside! I’m not over here looking at your dick!”

"I hardly think you can equate that to an ass," He deadpans.

"Well, I'm not looking at your ass, either, pervert!"

At last, something you say seems to get to him, your words causing Warrior to bow his head with a pout and that shared discomfort he should’ve had from the beginning, “I’m not a pervert. If it’s such a big deal, then you can come over here and fix the backside of this tunic. It’s riding up on me and it’s driving me crazy.”

You blink then glance around him to notice that your tunic is indeed all out of sorts, one end lifted and tucked in your belt. It must’ve gotten stuck that way during your fight with that wizard…Now you just feel like an idiot…

“…Oh.”

“Oh,” Warrior mocks with a roll of his eyes, not saying much else – perhaps out of pity - as he waits for you to help fix the tunic correctly, although truthfully he’s just busy redirecting his eyes and cursing himself internally for not having explained the situation from the start. He maybe-kinda spaced the fact that he’s currently in your body and didn’t consider the implications of what it would look like for you to see him fussing over your back end. How were you to know he was simply fixing your tunic? He really did probably look like a massive pervert.

“There,” You finally step away.

“Thanks,” He coughs into his fist awkwardly with his opposite hand rubbing the back of his neck. Even in a different body, he carries the same nervous habits, “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to –“

“- No. No, you’re fine. I, uh, should’ve had more trust in you," You mumble, running a hand over your hot face before shaking your head. You need to get it together, "Come on. Let's just get out of here and find a way to fix this before any other misunderstandings can happen."

Warrior nod and follows after you out of the dungeon without another word to be said. He won't say it aloud - He refuses to even admit it to himself because he's supposed to be a gentleman and what if you've suddenly become a mind reader?...But if you were to for some reason ask his opinion, you do in fact have a fine ass.

#x reader #reader insert #linked universe x reader #linked universe #link x reader #lu legend x reader #lu time x reader #lu twilight x reader #lu warrior x reader #legend of zelda x reader

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misterbartender · 1 year

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Mortal Kombat 11 x Dark! Caster Reader Intro Banter

(Gender Neutral)

The Reader in this scenario will be a Dark Caster (a dark witch/wizard/warlock/sorcerer/etc..) paired with Mortal Kombat 11 characters. Yes, retconned Sindel will be used here because I thought it would be better for this scenario.

Kombatants: Kano, Erron Black, Skarlet, Shang Tsung, Sindel, Johnny Cage, Cassie Cage, Noob Saibot/Bi-Han

Warnings: (Some suggestive themes) not proofread

KANO:

KANO: I intend to make a fortune by taking your head.

Y/N: And I intend to make you my slave.

KANO: (with a filthy, smug grin) Kinky.

Y/N: Like hell I would let you tear out my organs.

KANO: Oh there’s another way I can rearrange your guts, love.

Y/N: ...How big is that knife?

Y/N: So you are the head of The Black Dragon? How filthy.

KANO: And dangerous, love. You’d also make a fine Black Dragon.

Y/N: Hmm bet I can tame you then. (smirks)

ERRON BLACK:

ERRON BLACK: You casted a hell of a spell on me darlin’.

Y/N: And now you’re mine, cowboy.

ERRON BLACK: You’re wicked… I like that. (smirks)

Y/N: How much is on my head, Erron Black?

ERRON BLACK: Billions, and I won’t quit just ‘cause you have a pretty face.

Y/N: Glad we’re on the same page, pretty boy, I’ll make you plead for mercy.

ERRON BLACK: I could take you out for a ride ’round Outworld.

Y/N: I’m more interested in the “save a horse, ride a cowboy” deal.

ERRON BLACK: (tips hat with a smirk) Say no more sweetheart.

SKARLET:

SKARLET: So much power running through those veins.

Y/N: I could give you a taste, Skarlet.

SKARLET: And more?

Y/N: Join me, Skarlet, and I will teach you the secrets of Blood Magic that not even Shao Kahn knows.

SKARLET: You think I would betray Shao Kahn as one of his daughters?

Y/N: He has been holding you back, my dear.

Y/N: That hunger of yours can also be a weakness.

SKARLET: Blood has made me powerful. (narrows eyes)

Y/N: With my powers, you will feel hunger no more.

SHANG TSUNG:

SHANG TSUNG: Together with our powers, we could be ruling the realms.

Y/N: And how will I know you will not betray me?

SHANG TSUNG: Only a fool would do that to a beautiful creature like you.

Y/N: Are you here for my soul, Shang Tsung?

SHANG TSUNG: Only your heart, Y/N.

Y/N: It is black as the darkest of nights.

SHANG TSUNG: I could give you anything you desire.

Y/N: For what price?

SHANG TSUNG: You, by my side.

SINDEL:

SINDEL: The great Dark Caster.

Y/N: Beautiful as you are wicked.

SINDEL: Coming from you, that is the highest praise one could receive.

Y/N: You’re still with that oaf?

SINDEL: He is far greater than that weakling Jerrod.

Y/N: If I come back with his head, will that sway you?

Y/N: Well well, Empress Sindel (turns around and smiles)

SINDEL: Kneel. (smirks)

Y/N: I do not kneel. But I can provide other...services...if you wish, my lady.

JOHNNY CAGE:

JOHNNY CAGE: Are you the bad kind or the sexy kind?

Y/N: Both. (smirks)

JOHNNY CAGE: Woo! Well I’m in trouble.

JOHNNY CAGE: So uh... did you use a broomstick to get here?

Y/N: Cage, we do not all use brooms.

JOHNNY CAGE: Well if you need one, you can ride mine.

Y/N: That power you possess comes from a line of powerful warriors.

JOHNNY CAGE: Awesome-ness is in my blood.

Y/N: I’ll gladly take it from your hands you arrogant fool.

CASSANDRA CAGE:

CASSANDRA CAGE: So… are we playing Light as a feather, stiff as a board?

Y/N: (rolls eyes) Just like your father, living in your movies.

CASSANDRA CAGE: Maybe I should start calling you Nancy Downs

Y/N: So you’re the one that defeated Shinnok?

CASSANDRA CAGE: Impressed? Or scared that you’re next in line for an ass kicking?

Y/N: Oh but you stand before a beast far greater than Shinnok by many levels.

CASSANDRA CAGE: Come on, stop with the villain shit so we can go out.

Y/N: Negative, darling, wreak havoc with me.

CASSANDRA CAGE: Is that really all you do?

BI-HAN/NOOB SAIBOT:

BI-HAN: Come join us in the darkness.

Y/N: My time above is not yet over, Bi Han.

BI-HAN: We will conquer it together with our army of shadows.

Y/N: The dark is where I belong, in the end.

BI-HAN: The shadows yearn for your touch.

Y/N: The touch of death?

BI-HAN: There is only room for one force of darkness.

Y/N: Me. Now go home to your brother.

BI-HAN: You know nothing!

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #Mortal Kombat 11 #mk11 x reader #mk x reader #kano x reader #Erron Black x reader #skarlet x reader #shang tsung x reader #sindel x reader #johnny cage x reader #cassie cage x reader #bi han x reader #noob saibot x reader

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thelargefrye · 3 months

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🌷 SMALLS’ FIC RECOMMENDATION LIST.

i've seen a lot of fic rec lists circulating in the community recently and so i felt like i should also make one to support fellow writers who i think really deserve that extra love and attention.

so this is also an appreciation post because i have quite a few things to say. these are mainly writers that i enjoy reading and think need a lot more love and attention because let's be honest, they have amazing ideas and people are just sleeping on them.

so, i'll just jump right into it! make sure to send these writers love and reblog their works!!!

my best friend and person i share a braincell with : @sanjoongie

check out her master list.

like you want to talk about talent? topaz is the one who breathes talent and ideas that literally no one else is coming up with. like if i had to read only one person for the rest of my life, it would be topaz because her writing is just amazing. her moodboards that she makes for her works, perfect. everything topaz does when it comes to writing is amazing, and i'm so glad that she's my best friend and braincell.

and not only that, but topaz is just nice to be talk to! like she makes you want to repeatedly talk to her and she is so good at helping flesh out my own ideas. i wouldn't have written half the things i did last year if it wasn't for her.

anyways, i'm so grateful and proud to call topaz my braincell because she's so amazing, talented, and nice. it breaks my heart that more people don't talk about HER. like you want to read something different and so well written then you need to read literally ANY work topaz has written.

topaz, my lovely braincell, thank you for putting up with me and my shit 24/7. if it wasn't for you i probably wouldn't have gotten out of my writer's block. and just now that i love you and thank you for being an amazing friend and writer.

and if you've gotten this far, i'll just straight up tell you that this is topaz appreciation post. so now i'll link some of my favorite works by her and tell you why i love them:

twilight academy ( all parts ) ( rated : mature )

wizard professor!seonghwa x wizard professor!f!reader ft. ateez

this currently has four parts and is still ongoing and is literally SO good. like who else is writing about a professor au WHERE THEY ARE ALL WIZARDS. and not to mention the worldbuilding and history that is all mentioned and talked about. its so so so good and the smut in it is absolutely to die for. and the chemistry between seonghwa and mc is so good, i love when they go back and forth.

breed ( part one ) ( rated : mature )

ateez x f!reader ( most of the members are aliens with san and another member being human )

now THIS is an alien au done right and different and basically sum it up with one sentence its "alien!teez doing sexual experiments" (from @/morethingsfandom). like its just so good and the SMUT! THE SMUT IS WHY WE ARE HERE PEOPLE!! THIS IS WHAT SCI-FI SMUT IS ABOUT!!! like this is honestly pure pwp and a nice switch up if maybe twilight academy isn't your thing.

see? topaz does everything!

dragon oracle ( here ) ( rated : mature )

dragon!ateez x dragon!f!reader ( based off of my own dragon au )

THIS!! in my opinion is one of topaz's best works (i may be biased lol) and def my favorite from all time. topaz took my au and did her own spin on it and made it her own. she cared about the source material, asked questions, let me ramble, and then boom! a masterpiece was made. if you like my dragon au, then i highly, HIGHLY recommend you read this. and if you've already read... then read it again.

i wish it was me ( here ) ( rated : 18+ )

water bender!san x avatar!hongjoong x water bender!f!reader x water tribe warrior!yunho ( implied ot8 )

again another fic that is based off of mine but literally made it her own because topaz is just that talented. a "what-if" au for my alta series where mc is a water bender and with san and yunho. absolutely amazing and does so well with writing all the characters and their dynamics. a def read if you love atla!

sweet sorrow of evil ( master list ) ( rated : mature )

ateez x evil queen!f!reader ( members have different roles within the story )

this is a collab story between topaz and me and i couldn't make this post and NOT include this series that we are working on together. this really just shows what two authors can make when they come together. we co-wrote the prologue and are currently writing the first chapter. this world is our baby and i love and it has the both of us in a chokehold, i'm so proud of the world me and here built and i want everyone to see it.

and honestly, that's just the tip of the iceberg cause topaz has SO MANY more but these are just the ones that i always think about. like, i really suggest you all check out topaz's works. i have more of her fics on my fic rec blog (@comicsan) so if you want to see more of her and other fics that i have enjoyed then i would check that blog out.

please go show my bestie support, it would mean the world to me!

thank you 🩷

#ʚ・◞🍥 // smalls talks.#appreciation post #ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #poly ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fic recs #ʚ・◞🍥 // moots.

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 5 months

Text

I Wasn't Completely Nude

Chapter 2

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You and the company are off to reclaim Erebor. But how long will you and Thorin be able to last until you're back at each other's throats?

Warnings: angst, implied sex work, no use of y/n

author's note: I already wrote the first 8-9 chapters of this series so there will be a lot of frequent updates while I'm editing those!

Word count: 1506

The sun has barely started to rise over the hills of the shire when you are awoken by a gentle shake to your shoulder.

“Rise and shine, lass,” Dwalin’s voice pulls you further from sleep.

You groan and pull the blanket over your head. Your head is pounding from the ale and you’d love nothing better to slip into a death-like sleep for at least another week.

Unfortunately, the leader of your company has other plans for you.

“If you aren’t ready in the next five minutes we’re leaving without you,” Thorin calls.

You peek your head out from under the blanket to see him packing his things back into his bag. “Everyone else is already up,” he glares at you.

You shove the blanket onto the floor and reach your arms up overhead in a good morning stretch. “Yeah well, not everyone else drank their entire body weight in alcohol last night.”

“No one asked you to do that,” he reminds you with a grunt.

“Well if you’re going to spend the entire journey to Erebor talking down to me like that, I think I’m going to need a lot more alcohol in my system.”

“If you’re going to have a problem with being under my command, you are more than welcome to stay behind with Master Baggins.” He reminds you.

You push yourself to your feet ready to tell him exactly what he can do with his command, when Balin appears between the two of you before you can continue.

“Honestly you two, we haven’t even stepped foot on the road yet and you’re already at each other’s throats!” Balin redirects Thorin’s attention to going over the map again in the dining room before you can continue bickering.

You let out a huff of annoyance as you stomp off to the spare room to change clothes.

You are determined to not let Thorin’s presence distract you from the excitement of being able to wear pants again. Of course, your mother never let you wear anything other than dresses growing up, and although your dwarven blood has always drawn you to all things sparkly and beautiful, you have always been a warrior at heart.

Fighting in a dress, while not impossible, is both impractical and extremely frustrating. When you aren’t working or traveling you try and wear them as often as you can. Traveling as a woman wearing anything other than a dress and corset attracts too much unwanted attention to make the freedom of movement worth it.

But you figured traveling with a company of 13 dwarves and a wizard was already going to make you stick out, so you might as well be dressed for the fights that will inevitably be waiting for you.

You sigh in relief as you finish unlacing the corset, slipping it and your dress into your pack for now. You replace it with a form-fitting pair of trousers, a flowy blouse, and some comfortable riding boots. You decide to let your hair hang down around your shoulders for now, the braided strands by your face keeping it out of the way enough for now.

There are still a few hunks of bread and fruit left in the pantry for you to munch on while gathering up the last of your things from the hobbit’s home. You regret that you aren’t able to thank your host before stepping out the front door but after last night's excitement and the early hour, he must be dead asleep.

Your pony, Onyx, is waiting for you outside, whimpering happily when she sees you approaching. You whisper sweetly to her as you stroke her mane, letting her nibble on some of the fruit you set aside for her.

She is a beautiful creature, with a strong frame and hair as dark as the night. If it weren’t for her small stature and sweet disposition you’d think she had galloped right out of hell’s gate. You pat her side affectionately as you start securing your things to her saddle.

You feel a pair of eyes on you and you turn slightly to look over your shoulder at Thorin, who is openly staring at the curve of your rear in the pants.

He abruptly turns away when he sees that you’ve caught him staring. And it suddenly occurs to you how long it’s been since he’s seen you in pants, since the battle at Moria, where his grandfather, your King, Thror, was lost. But even then you had been wearing heavy layers of Dwarvan armor. Unlike now, where only a few layers of fabric cling to your form, revealing the silhouette of your curves.

You slowly bend over at the waist, pretending to fix the laces on your boot with a wicked smile on your face. You could swear you hear his jaw clenching behind you. It would seem you’ve found a way to pass the time on the road.

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Despite the nip in the air, you decide to forego wearing a cloak. Preferring instead to feel the air whispering against your skin and running through your hair. Even as the rain starts pouring down above you, you ride on. Despite the fact, that your white blouse is now completely soaked through, revealing your chemise underneath.

The other dwarves are very polite about it, if they notice they don’t stare or draw any attention to the amount of skin you now have on display. The same can’t be said of your leader.

You feel a heavy cloak gently come to rest on your shoulders and you turn to see Thorin has moved ahead to ride beside you.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you say, pulling the warm furs off of you and handing them back to him.

“That wasn’t a request,” he replies curtly. Tossing the cloak back to you, more assertively this time. “I won’t have you catching cold and slowing down the entire company.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance and toss it back to him. “I appreciate your concern,” you reply, voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I’ll be fine, I don’t mind the rain.”

He grunts and picks up the cloak again. “If you try and hand that to me one more time I’m going to let it fall in the mud,” you warn him.

He believes you, of course, but isn’t ready to let it go. He growls your name in a low warning. You keep your eyes directly on the road ahead, pretending to be completely oblivious to his frustration.

“I can see your underclothes,” he whispers as if you didn’t already know. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. Giving Onyx a gentle kick to pick up the pace, but Thorin stays right alongside you.

“I can see your breasts,” he elaborates. Again you shrug, and that only seems to irritate him more.

“Just be glad I’m not making you pay for it, how do you think I made a living all these years?” you tell him with a wink. He looks at you in confusion for a moment, before it all clicks.

“Did you? Are you a?” you laugh at the panic in his eyes.

“Oh relax, it’s not what you think. I was just a dancer. I kept my clothes on. Most of them anyways…” The legendary Thorin Oakenshield is left speechless as he stares at you with eyes wide, before narrowing them at you in annoyance.

“I went to great lengths to ensure you wouldn’t ever have to do anything like that. And you’re telling me you just threw it all away to dance naked in front of countless men for money?” you scoff at his accusation. It’s true that he secured you a respectable job in a quiet town and a long term room at an inn, but only so he could leave you behind to continue on with the rest of your kin. With a few halfhearted excuses and harsh words he turned his back on you when you needed him the most. He had been your closet friend, the one person you trusted most in all of middle earth and he let his pride get the better of him. All you had left after you watched him ride off towards the blue mountains that day, was a heavy grief and a burning anger that has never fully extinguished.

“Were you even listening? I said I wasn’t completely nude. And don’t pretend like you made some big sacrifice for my benefit. You went to those great lengths just so you wouldn’t have to put up with me anymore.” you snap.

You wait for him to counter with a jab of his own but it never comes.

When you look over at him he’s looking back at you with a sad look on his face.

“Is that what you think?” he asks in a low whisper, “ that I was trying to get rid of you?”

You force yourself to look away from him. And this time when you urge Onyx further ahead of him, he lets you go.

Next Chapter

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