CODE VERONICA REMAKE THIS ISNโT A DRILL CLAIRE MOTHERFIELD IS BACK I REPEAT๐ญ๐ญ I REPEAT SHEโS FINALLY OUT OF THE CAPFRAUD BASEMENT!! MY WIFE IS HOME๐ค
AT THE END OF THE DAY, Resident evil Code Veronica is REAL !! I cannot wait for this masterpiece, the og was so good and I'm sure they'll do a great job even with the remake โค๏ธ
a little birdie told me that my works have been copied, word for word, by user @leonsbunni . she has me blocked, so i couldnโt find out on my own, but two of โher ficsโ on her masterlist are my worksโcopied by the exact letterโexcept itโs changed to โleonโ from the game resident evil.
i have no idea what this person thought they would achieve with this. maybe they loved the little attention theyโre getting by copying my fics and getting 1k+ notes on them, people praising and supporting them unknowingly . . . whatever it is, this behavior is absolutely unacceptable. plagiarism is never okay.
thatโs why i decided to make this little announcement so other writers donโt have to go through this with said account & to prevent this from happening again. for the readers to know that she has not written anything herself & to spread this so no one will unknowingly support a copycat.
please spread the word and block / report her. thank you !
below are the screenshots;
i have yet to find out who the fic โmidnight cravingsโ is from / if they actually wrote it themselves bcs im sceptical of everything. if anyone has read it before and knows who she copied that from, if she did, let me know.
I will whole heartedly admit, yes. I read x reader fanfic because sometimes you wanna feel loved or something else. Let me enjoy my fictional husbands and wives please.
SUMMARY: youโve developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws, but youโre not quite sure about what the irascible Red Hood thinks of you.
WARNINGS: graphic description of burn injury, oblique reference to canonical parental drug dependency, reader is a meta.
NOTES: bringing back an old work! Re: the burns treatment depicted here - my area of study was clinical microbiology, not emergency medicine; everything I know about burns is relegated to opportunistic Staphylococcus aureus infection and how Gram negative skin flora influence wound healing. Take none of what you see in this fic as medical advice; if you do have a severe burn, call 999 and get your arse to an A&E ASAP.
After an extraterrestrial incident in your city that ended with something to the tune of 5 and a half million dollars worth of property damage and you knitting Arsenal's torn-open back together in a moment of adrenaline-fuelled insanity, you've developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws.
What that really means is that you periodically come off your shift at the hospital to find 2 mercenaries and an alien princess divesting your fridge of it's contents, and get wheedled into using your meta abilities to heal wounds that would otherwise take them out of play for a good few months.
You're under no illusions. You're aware that a healer is a useful contact to have, that should the situation necessitate it they'll take the few scant inches you can give and run a mile with them.
However, you're also aware that being a meta is a risk and that it pays to be liked and valued by dangerous people.
It's a friendship of convenience, but a friendship nonetheless.
Kori picks you up bodily and spins you in a tight circle until you're giggly and dizzy when confess her favourite shirts of yours are always freshly washed, just in case.
Roy gives you a vulgar wink when you order his shirt off to take a look at where his back scarred over, but faithfully applies the Vitamin E cream you give him for the scarring, trusting you to ease his discomfort, and sneaks bottles of your favourite elderflower cordial and the tins of Zambuk you can never find in the US for you to find when he leaves.
The only one you can't quite puzzle out your relationship with is Jason. He's taciturn, stands watch faithfully as Roy and Kori pull you into friendly hugs and dizzy spins, pepper playful kisses on your cheek and rub their knuckles into your hair. He rolls his eyes at his teammates' antics, huffs through his nose at your fussing.
Sometimes though, he'll call you sweetheart in a low rasp as he bumps you away from the sink to take over doing the dishes.
Sometimes, you think you catch him watching you with something unnameable and warm in his eyes.
You're not expecting your front door to fly open and damn near off the hinges late on Saturday evening โ just as you're fresh out of the shower and only just into your pyjama shirt & shorts, might you add โ but your alarm and annoyance die on your tongue when you see Roy and Kori's grim faces and the way that Jason sways despite both of their considerable strength holding him up.
You smell the odd, sour-smoke char of burned flesh as they pass you to ease Jason down oh so gently onto your sofa, and your gut goes cold with fear. The burn, once you get his shirt cut open, is not as extensive as you'd feared, but it's still something from a horror scene.
It's a third degree burn, skin mulberry-red, weeping and blistered in a long arc that curls up from his right hip to just under his right pectoral.
"Bloody hell." You breathe, horrified.
You run to your room, digging out your first aid kit, and drop to your knees by the couch as you tear it open.
Roy snorts, bitter as cyanide. "Yeah, that's a fairly accurate summary of the situation, sweets. The only reason he's still alive is because he dodged and got a glancing blow from the energy beam instead of a direct hit."
You look up from Jason's side.
"I'll need you and Kori to get some things." You say, hands shaking at the prospect of the task in front of you. "I can reduce the severity of the burn to a first degree, maybe, but itโ"
"What do you need?" Kori snaps, terse. You reel off a list - topical antiseptic, light bandages, a banana bag & an IV kit, amoxicillin - and then look to Roy.
"I need you to get him to take some co-codamol. It'll kick in in about 10 minutes given his enhanced metabolism, but I can't do anything until he's got painkillers in him."
Roy's brows tighten further.
"Jason doesn't do opiates."
"Roy, if this was anybody else he'd be hooked up to IV morphine! If I start working on him without him having painkillers, he'll go into shock which could kill him." You exclaim.
You make low, soothing sounds when Jason tenses at the shouting, only to groan at the fresh wave of agony in his side.
The sound of Jason's pain seems to be decisive enough for Roy, who moves round the couch and grabs the box of effervescent tablets, dissolving two in water and coaxing Jason into drinking it down.
When the glass is empty, Roy is back to his feet, quick as lightning. He strides to the door, shepherding Kori out of your apartment.
"We'll be back with everything you need in half an hour, tops. Please, help him."
Jason comes out of the shrieking adrenaline of agony to the sound of your voice, and a slight cotton fuzz in his head.
Narcotics, then, but a fairly low dose for him to still retain this degree of alertness. Feeling the encroaching spectre of that terrible pain just barely held at bay, finds he's grateful for the medication.
He goes to prop himself up on his elbows, only to strike a line of phosphorus-white flare of pain down his side that has him hissing breath through gritted teeth.
Above him, you make a startled sound, press a hand to his sternum to keep him down. His eyes catch yours, and he sees the relieved sag of your spine and shoulders at the alertness in his eyes.
"Thank fuck you didn't go into shock." You sigh. "Stay still, I've just about got this down to a second degree burn. I've just got your hip."
You snap off your nitrile gloves and lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. "Don't make a habit of this. You'll kill us off with stress if you keep on nearly-dying."
As if on cue, the front door opens and Roy and Kori come into the living room, pharmacy bags clutched tightly in their grips and fragile hope in their eyes.
When they see Jason's alert eyes, the slow knit of skin and sub-dermal tissue and hear his sheepish grumbling in, response to you, their smiles are like sunlight.
Healing the burn is slow going, taking a full five evenings after your shifts.
Roy and Kori are intent on Jason staying the full course of treatment โ settled by a, literally, on account of Kori, flaming row when he asks for his helmet and body armour โand though your entreaties are quieter, they're no less insistent.
It serves him right, probably, but it's driving him to distraction.
Specifically, the feeling of your hands over his skin is driving him to distraction.
He's not sure whether it's mercy or the sweetest of torture when you approach him, eyes darting down his body in a way that's half-assessing, half appraising before the heat-shock of your touch makes contact, pieces his skin back together.
(The thing is, Jason's attuned to everything about you, has been ever since you pulled Roy's flayed skin back shut whilst the city was still smoking behind you, totally unafraid in scrub trousers and a hoodie.
He's got it bad, and it's not exactly subtle.
Roy and Kori haven't missed that, or the way he reacts to you, judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smirks as they lean up against the wall and watch you work.
He hopes the glare he levels at them over the top of your head communicates exactly what he'll do to them if they open their mouths.
It all comes to a head on Monday evening, when you come home from your OR shift, duck into the shower and then come into the living room in a too-large grey t-shirt and deliciously short sleep pants.
Jason's heart stops for a second. He lets his eyes flit despairingly over to Roy and Kori as you prep your kit, watches their unrepentant grins with a burning resentment towards them.
Having you this close to him, worry-soft and lit like a Rembrant from the lamp on the side table without being able to touch you is the closest thing to hell there is. You're close enough that he can smell the overlapping, inoffensive fragrances of your facial skincare products, see the faint pearlescent sheen of the residue of some serum on the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the soft line of your jaw.
Your nitrile-gloved hand settles gently on the raw new skin just above his hip and he jumps, his own broad hand flying up defensively to catch your wrist and still your movement. It's a mistake he regrets immediately.
The skin of your wrist is still tacky-soft with still-settling moisturiser, hair curling damp where the spray of your shower caught it. Jason's mind spins an unbidden reel of your hands, smoothing lotion over the plush expanse of your thighs, the line of your neck and the gentle swell of your dรฉcolletage, the curve of your hip.
He presses his eyes shut tightly.
He feels feral, the hungry bones of him blown open and exposed like the hull of a shipwreck. He wants to worry marks the shape of his mouth into your thighs, your neck, across your collarbones. He wants your knees bracketing his hips, the weight of you on top of him.
God, he wantsโ
"Are you okay? You're not in too much pain, are you?" He hears you ask.
He knows he's in far too deep when the thought of tasting the way the words roll off your tongue flits across his mind.
"Sorry." He croaks, releasing your hand. "Instinct."
(Roy turns to Kori with a snort, murmuring low so you can't hear.
"He's been watching like he wants to eat them alive since the first time we met and it's a miracle he's got enough blood north of his waistband to be capable of speech, but sure. Instinct.")
Plot: A strange building made up of old spaceship parts, moving around on two legs across the wasteland of the desert, it hisses and creaks and fills the heart of many with fear... That castle is home to the magnificent tech wizard Vash, infamous for both his gunmanship and for being a womanizerโor so the rumor goes in your city. You're the eldest child of a gunsmith and as such don't expect much from your future.ย However, your simple life takes a turn for the exciting when you're ensnared in a disturbing situation, and the mysterious tech wizard appears to rescue you.
Pairing: Vash x mostly GN Reader, occasional she/her pronouns, the use of "girl" etc from quotes directly from the movie. I tried making it completely GN, but my flu ridden brain short circuited on some very specific parts so I gave up.
Raiting: Everyone
Tags: Howl's Moving Castle style AU, no use of "y/n", Vash is a tech wizard, I have both brainrot and the flu, idk what else to put here, Howl is cute, Vash is cute, I tried my best.
Word count: 3.7k
Author's Note: Got the idea yesterday, yall seemed interested and the flu ridden brainrot I had to endure all day today was simply debilitating so I wrote a little something. I hope you like it, not sure if I will continue or not even though I have quite a few HC-s for this little AU situation.
The 6th city, May, is decorated more than usual. After all, May Day has arrived. Even though it is still early in the afternoon, the streets are bustling with people. The aroma of baked goods reaches your nose through your open window, and it makes you think about your sister, Meryl, who is working at the very popular doughnut shop on the other side of the city. She must be very busy today with the rush of customers coming in for their celebratory pastries. For you, it's a free day. Today, your little weapon's repair shop, which you inherited from your father, is closed. You decide to take advantage of the downtime and visit your sister, whom you haven't seen in a long time.
You put aside the little handgun you have been tinkering with and stand to close the window. Your little shop is situated quite high, and the workshop has the perfect view to look out over the roofs of all the other houses. Your eyes glance over the familiar sightโthe scrappy buildingd made out of old spaceship parts and in the distance, you see the wide open desert. But today it is slightly different. You heard the commotion this morning when the people first noticed the addition to the landscape. With fearful and hushed voices, they talked about the monstrocity looming on the horizon and the kind of calamity it might bring.
"It is Vash's Moving Castle!" The people on the streets whispered and pointed. "Do you think the horrible Typhoon has come to lay waste to our city?"
You knew very well the rumors about the gunslinger and tech wizard named Vash the Stampede. He is said to be a ruthless demon specializing in murder and wide-scale destruction. Apparently, he kills without mercyโmen, women, and children alike. He has wiped whole towns from the face of the planet, and his infamous castle is created with the sole purpose of being a weapon of mass destruction.
As you pull the window closed, you look at the mass of metal outside of town. Calling it a castle is a gross overstatement. You can't imagine how such a heap of scrap gets to be called anything so magnificent. It consists of layers upon layers of old spaceship parts, jutting out at odd angles and covered in rust and wires, its massive turrets and spires reaching towards the sky. It has two large legs underneath it, much like a tomas, that the building uses to move across the desert. This is not the first time Vash's fortress has passed by May City, and you think the excitement is unwarranted. Sure, the gunslinger has a reputation, but nothing catastrophic has happened so far. You can't help but wonder why everyone gets so worked up every time the castle passes by; he would surely go to the bank or somewhere else where he can get easy money. You are just a small shop owner; as long as you don't get in his way, it seems unlikely he would take any interest in you. He might be a womanizer, but he only has eyes for pretty girls.
You get quickly ready and close the shop. The streets are decorated with colorful ribbons, and you hear cheers coming from all over town as the annual parade begins. You have chosen a truly awful moment to try and make your way across the city, but you are determined to see Meryl. As you push through the crowded streets, you catch glimpses of the parade. People are showing off their inventions and talents. You see giant hydraulic pants marching down the street. Exo-suits and new kinds of weaponry. On other streets, you see entertainers dancing and singing in colorful costumes. Some are juggling fire, and others are performing daring acrobatics. This world truly is a marvel.
You make it to the gondolas and squeeze into one with some other people. It takes you over the winding roads, and you see the flags and market stalls lining the streets. The smell of freshly cooked food wafts up to you as you take in the sights and sounds of the bustling marketplace. May is filled with all kinds of people; for days, the sandsteamers have brought in travelers from all over, and it shows. The whole city is alive with excitement and energy.
You get off your ride on the slightly calmer side of the town, and you know the familiar route you need to take to get to the doughnut shop. The quiet side streets are nearly empty; just a few people mingle on the sidewalks. You try to avoid them as much as possible and turn to an even smaller ally as a group of drunkards head your way. You hold your breath and hope they don't notice you, looking nervously over your shoulder as you hurry along.
"Hey, it looks like a little mouse lost its way," you suddenly hear, and as you look back ahead, you see you nearly ran into a man who has just come around the corner. He is grinning mischievously, blocking your path. He is a lot taller than you, and you can see his rifle slung across his back. Surely he is a bounty hunter; you see them a lot, and with all the people flowing into town, you would think they have their hands full.
"Oh, no. I'm not lost," you say, shaking your head and recoiling a bit, leaning away from the man.
"This little mouse looks thirsty. We should take her for a cup of tea." The man continues like he didn't hear you at all. You try sidestepping him, but as you do, a second man appears from behind him. He is just as large with a big mustache, and he looks at you curiously as he leans closer, blocking your way further.
"No thanks. My sister's expecting me." You avoid looking directly at them, instead trying to think of a way to escape. They make you very uncomfortable.
"She's pretty cute for a mouse." You try to keep your cool and find a way to politely excuse yourself from the situation, but the mustashed man is leaning even closer, his face level with yours.
"How old are you anyway? You live around here?" The first guy leans toward you too. Neither of them sounds menacing, but they fill you with dread.
"Leave me alone!" you say with as much bravery as you can muster, taking a step backwards.
"You see? Your mustache scares all the girls," the first man nudges his comrade.
"So? I think she's even cuter when she's scared." the other replies, not taking his eyes off you.
"There you are, sweetheart." A different, smooth male voice speaks up behind you, capturing the gaze of the bountyhunters before you. "Sorry, I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you."
He speaks close to your left ear, and a hand gently rests on your right shoulder. It's not a voice you recognize, and his touch makes you stiffen up. Your body had been ready to run for your life, but now you find yourself sandwitched between two unknowns. Yet something about the man behind you is comforting, or maybe it's just that you see the upset glint in the eyes of the men before you.
"Hey! Hey! We're busy here!" The man you had run into first speaks and looks like he is puffing himself up to look more menacing. His companion, too, straightens his back, ready for a violent confrontation.
"Are you really? It looked to me like the two of you were just leaving." The calm voice beside you speaks with a hint of amusement. You feel him shift slightly, but you don't turn your eyes away from the bounty hunters in front of you. You see their gazes move over the man, their eyes widening at something where his left arm would be, and you see them freeze up and then nudge each other. They look very uncomfortable.
"This is not worth it," one of them whispers nervously to the other.
"Yeah, we better get going," the other answers with a whisper, and they start to shuffle away from you, back into the alley they had come from. As they get further away, their step hastens until they take off running. You watch them disappear into the darkness, wondering what caused them to have such a reaction.
"They aren't actually all that bad," he says, continuing his thought from before, and his eyes capture your gaze again. "Where to? I'll be your escort this evening."
"Don't hold it against them," the soft voice next to you says, and you finally turn to look at him. He is a tall young man with a soft smile on his lips. You see his pretty blue eyes behind orange tinted round glasses, and his blonde hair is about shoulder length. A tight golden hoop hangs from his left ear. He is truly very handsome, and his expression is warm and inviting. He wears a pillowy white blouse that flows down to his slender waist. A pendant hangs from his neck, and a red coat covers his shoulders, but his arms are not in the sleeves.
"Oh, I'm, um, just going to the doughnut shop." You pull back a little from his closeness, but feel his hand firmly on your shoulder.
"Don't get alarmed, but I'm being followed," he says, leaning closer to you. His hand moves from your shoulder and instead hooks around your arm. "Act normal."
You avert your eyes, but he ignores your awkwardness completely and starts walking along the street with your arm intertwined with his, like it's totally normal. Your body is still stiff, a slight fear lingering in the back of your mind, yet this is exciliating in a way you never expected. You find yourself surprisingly comfortable in his presence, despite the fact that he is a total stranger. His pace is somewhat brisk, but you can easily keep up. The unknown of who could be following him is a bit frightening, and you find yourself pressing into his upper arm for reassurance.
As you walk past some dark and narrow alleys, you start to suddenly hear commotion.
"There he is! Go! Hurry!" You hear shouting, and it sends a shiver up your spine. Yet the man beside you keeps the same pace and, for the moment, seems unbothered.
"Sorry. It looks like you're involved," he says calmly as you try to glance into the alleys where the commotion stems from. You see a mob of gunslingers squeeze themselves hurriedly into the narrow gap between the buildings and start to rush towards you. It is frightening to you, and you grab a tighter hold of the man's arm. Your right hand grasps his shirt, your heart pounds in fear as your body stiffens. More voices start to echo from up ahead, and a few people stumble onto your street.
"This way!" he whispers insistently, and the man pulls you into a side alley, his pace getting faster as he leads you away from the gathering crowd. You struggle to keep up with him so you have to start running, your mind racing with questions, but you hold onto him tightly, and you feel certain that everything will be alright. He keeps going faster and faster, and you can see the main street ahead, but suddenly your view gets blocked by more armed men appearing to block our path. You feel a surge of panic rising in your chest, and the reassuring hand sliters out from your weakened cluth as you have trouble holding on while you run.
"Come on!" The mystery man's voice is soft and insistent, with a hint of amusement as you feel his arm wrap around your waist, both of you running straight towards the angry looking mob. You see that some of them have drawn their guns and have them pointed straight at you, but the thundering footsteps behind you tell you that they are unlikely to shoot here in this narrow alley to avoid hitting anybody else. Your confidence in getting out of here wavers, but suddenly you are tightly pulled against the man's side, and his other hand takes yours. It feels cold and hard; you catch a glimpse of blue, but you are too distracted by the fact that your feet are no longer on the cobbled street. You rush through the air, seemingly kept up by the mysterious blonde.
Instinctively, you curl up, looking around for an explanation. The coat that covered his shoulders before hangs over his left arm, and from his back protrubes a pair of giant feathery wings. You've never seen anything like this. Is this a new invention? Has he come here to present his masterpiece to the masses during the parade? Who is this man? He has to be a brilliant inventor. Your mind is captivated by him; you want to understand his mysterious contraption, and your gaze moves along him, down his left arm, and you see it's not a real arm at all; it is made out of strange blue metal, the hand holding yours is made out of the same material. The forearm is mostly covered by his coat, but you're sure that everything from at least his elbow down is a prosthesis; the rest is hidden by the flowy sleeve. You feel his fingers move so organically that you're sure this must be lost technology. What a strange man! You've never seen anything like this.
"Now, straighten your legs and hold on tight," you hear the man say gently, and you follow his command. You relax your legs and grab tightly onto him. His strong arm around you presses you into his side, and you wrap your legs with one of his to make sure you cannot slip away from his grasp and plummet to your death.
You are still mesmerized by his wings, how large they are as they stretch out behind him, allowing him to fly effortlessly through the air. You feel a rush of adrenaline as you soar higher. The streets beneath you look so small; people are just specs moving around. You let out a gasp of amazement, and it makes the strange man chuckle. He flies you both over some rooftops, and you see the familiar doughnut shop come into view.
"You're a natural." You hear him praise you, but to you, it makes little sense; all you do is hold onto him for dear life. But you can't deny the exhilarating rush of flying through the sky. You have never felt so free. The wind whips through your hair as you soar above the city. You feel like you could touch the clouds. You relax a little bit in his grasp, hearing his feathers rustle in the wind as they allow you to glide through the air. To your surprise, very few people pay any attention to you. Most of them are too focused on the parade passing by. The ones who did notice you stared in awe, not believing their eyes or perhaps mistaking you for a worm.
You get closer and closer to the familiar shop, and you realize he is aiming for the second floor balcony. He lands gracefully on the bannister and gently guides you onto the floor, like you weigh nothing at all. His hand holds onto yours for a little longer as he bows closer.
"I'll make sure to draw them off, but wait a bit before you head back outside." His voice is low and gentle, with a soft smile dancing on his lips and in the glimmer of his eyes.
"Okay," you say, still stunned by what had just happened. Your fingers gently grip his as he straightens up and pulls his hand from you. His wings fold down behind his back and disappear before he takes his coat and drapes it over his shoulders.
"That's my girl," he says with a low and husky voice, a hint of pride in it. He smiles brightly and takes a step back, making you gasp as he falls into nothingness. You rush to peek over the railing, only to find that he has disappeared into the crowd with no hint of anyone noticing him at all, so he must be alright. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that he is safe.
You linger on the balcony for a little while longer. It all seems too incredible to be trueโalmost magical. Never would you have thought something like this could happen to you; you are so used to your dull life of being the eldest, but then again, that's what it means to be a responsible and reliable older sibling. Or perhaps you have caught some nasty disease and are just imagining all this during a fever dream. Either way, you enjoyed this. The realization prods you in the side as you remember that you didn't even ask the gentleman's name. Perhaps you will get lucky and see him introducing his invention at a parade in the future. Or perhaps this encounter will just remain a peculiar memory in the back of your mind.
You turn to enter the hallway and see a wide-eyed young woman staring back at you. She is frozen, like she has seen a ghost, and she looks at you with a hint of mistrust.
"Hello," you say, trying to strike up a conversation. "I'm here to see Meryl; she's my little sister. I'm sorry to have just barged in to the staff's quarters. Could you tell her I'm here? I'm in no rush; I'll wait till she has time."
She still stares at you and seems too frozen to say anything, only giving you a stiff nod and heading downstairs, where you hear a lot of commotion. You turn back to look out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man again, but he's nowhere to be seen. The sweet smell of doughnuts and jam fills your nose as you patiently wait for your sister.
You fall deep into thought, only to be awoken by some loud running footsteps heading your way and Meryl's voice calling out your name. She rushes to you and grabs your hands, so you turn to face her.
"Meryl!" you say with slight apprehension as you see the surprise in her face.
"What's going on? Someone just told me you flew down into our balcony!" She says it with disbelief. It takes you a moment to process her words before responding.
"So that did happen. That wasn't a dream," you say with a mix of confusion and sadness. You hear a different voice speak to Meryl as you turn your gaze out the window again, not registering what they talk about. You relive everything that has happened to you within the last half hour in your head, trying to commit every detail to memory. Meryl looks at you with concern as you look away so apathetically and then drags you with her to the backrooms of the kitchen to sit down with you on some boxes in the storage room. She presses you until you open up and tell her everything about your track here and the strange man who saved you.
"Wow! He must have been an inventor then!" Meryl exclaims as you finish your story with how he disappeared into the crowd.
"But he was so kind to me. He rescued me, Meryl."
"Of course he did! He was trying to seduce you! You are so lucky! If that inventor was Vash, he would have done much worse right then and there! He is an awful womanizer!"
"No, he wouldn't. Vash only does that to beautiful girls."
"Ah, don't give me that! You need to be more careful! It's dangerous out there! Even the infamous Millions Knives is back on the prowl." She looks at the side of your face and leans closer. "Are you listening?"
But you are so consumed by your thoughts, you barely realize what she is saying. Your gaze had been fixed by a giant tub of custard.
"Huh?" You finally turn to face your sister again.
"Argh!" Meryl lets out a disgruntled sigh. You see it from her face that she's about to start lecturing you, but a young man informing her about a new batch of dougnuts being done saves you from it.
"Okay! I'll be right there!" She turns a touch more cheerfully toward the cook.
"Alright! I better get going then. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay." You stand up, ready to leave, to both avoid getting Meryl into trouble and getting an earful from her about the horrible danger that is lurking outside the city walls.
Meryl sees through you immediately but chooses not to lecture you this time on that topic. She leads you to the backdoor, where a man is carrying bags of flour.
"Now," Meryl comes close to you again. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in that gunshop?"
"The shop was just so important to father, and I'm the eldest! I don't mind." You try to keep your tone cheerful as you look into her concerned face. But deep down, you know her words stir something up.
"I'm not asking what father would have wanted. I want to know what you want," she continues insistently.
"Well," you start to answer, not sure about what to say, but the man who carried in the flour comes back to say goodbye to Meryl, and your sister turns to him to wave goodbye. You take the opportunity to start to walk away and say, "I better get going."
"It's your life! Do something for yourself for once, will you?" she says, hoping that you will finally prioritize your own happiness.
"Bye, Meryl!" you say over your shoulder with a slight smile as you head home. Your head is still filled with a million thoughts, and Meryl only added to them. Yet you are glad she seems happy with her new life after she left your family's gunshop. You can't help but wonder if you'll ever find the same peace and contentment. But it matters little; you're the eldest, and you have a duty.
Did you like this? Go check out my Vash x Reader series Tempest Wind or God!Knives x Reader story Sheperd and drop a follow for any and all future projects!
I also dont think people realize how harmful non-inclusive fanfiction is.
Iโve met a lot of transmasc people in my life who, when wanting to read about their comfort characters to cope with real-life stress, have either very limited fanfiction to pick from, or have to subject themselves to reader x fem reader fanfiction, because itโs the only available content. Not only is it harmful mentally, but also caters to body dysmorphia.
Same goes for plus size readers, who have expressed discontent with reading fanfiction, only to be suddenly hit with the words โpetite, thin, skinnyโ, etc. which can also lead to body dysmorphia.
And PoC readers have been trying to advocate for more inclusive language, especially when describing things like blushing, which appears differently depending on your skintone. Theres also fanfictions that will blatantly just make the reader pale, or with โivory skinโ, even when itโs unnecessary and doesnt cater to the fiction at all.
Thatโs why I started my blog. I wanted to write inclusive works for underrepresented people such as:
-Masc readers / Transmasc readers
-Nonbinary readers
-Asexual readers
-Plus size readers
-PoC readers
I strive for complete ambiguity in my works, to actually bring back the meaning of โx readerโ and not โx ocโ as it has been turned into.
Part VIII: "Your blood like wine, I wanted in. Oh darling get me drunk, invite me in" - I want to live.
Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I
Tags: SMUT.
Part I : The outer layer. Mostly angst and jealousy.
Part II : Where you try to find meaning or draw boundaries
Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace
Part IV : There is more to do and I still want to live
Part V : our futures bound, our bodies known
Part VI: These ain't my sins. I broke my chains.
Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours.
---------------
"Maybe I should help clean you. " He smiled. "We don't want to attract, any more...vampires" He waded towards you in waist deep waters. "I am not one to share my treasures with others, you see". He smirked as he picked up a linen cloth then stood in front of you. Gently he placed the warm wet cloth on your shoulder cut.ย You had suffered quite a few from the splinter shower earlier.
On your cheeks, shoulders. Collarbones.
You felt his touch. His breath on your skin. A sensation was spreading through you. But you steeled yourself. You wanted to... no, you needed to talk to him. Confront him...on his confounding behavior. His oscillating warmth and icy cold demeanor. Of Shadowheart... yes, you definitely needed to talk about her... And what about... the other night, when his bite evolved to...more.
No, you didn't want to talk to him about that.ย
Silence shrouded you both, as you were lost in thought, only broken by the sound of the splashing water. As he kept cleaning each wound, one by one. Lost in his own world. Was he returning your favor, of dressing his wounds from the other night? You wondered. This man....had a way of returning every favor you did him. Why? Except when he drinks you, the only thing he does, is .... Kiss you.ย
So that's why ....he kissed you.
Of course! Hah. You weren't sure if you felt glad you figured him out or sad to know his true intentions. You laughed at yourself for thinking he had any real affection for you. Your smile broke him out of his reverie. "Hmmm...?" He looked at you, with solemn eyes. "You haven't come for my blood in a while. You found other... sources, I presume". You waited. Did you want him to crave you and you alone?
Don't be silly, you told yourself.ย
"I wasn't sure ... if I could have restrained myself. So I kept my distance". He looked at you. Sincere, but with piercing, intense eyes. "Every time I drink you, I lose myself in you... Perhaps, because ...you are my first ....my master once said ..." He trailed off. "No, never mind".
Another secret. You thought.ย
"Are you saying... I'm bad for you?" He chuckled at the conclusion you had drawn. "Quite the contrary. I'm afraid. But I wasn't happy, not knowing, didn't know...how I would feel, the next time...". He put both his hands around you, holding the ledge of the water. Caging you. "But, I may have a faint idea, why...if you let me, I could confirm, if I'm right".ย
"Sure. Glad to help". The Hero in you responded without thinking.ย
He grinned.
Then put two fingers on your chin, and then trailed the fingers down your neck, settling on your chest. Between your breasts on your bodice. Then a flick of his wrist, and he had undone the clasps. Before you had time to react, he held both your hands and pinned them behind you.ย
What? Your bodice was undone!ย
Wait! Shocked you looked at him. Your nipples still covered by what remained of the material. You felt blood rush to your face. He was still smiling. Very pleased. "Did you like my sleight of hand, cap'n" he grinned at you. Your face was hot. You tried to wrest free but your arms were still held in his strong grasp. With the same two fingers, he gently pushed the unbuttoned bodice over your left shoulder.ย
No...please ...you bit your lips.ย
"I do like it when you plead me with your eyes" his eyes were heavy, drunk with lust it seemed. You resolved not to let him have what he wanted. You pursed your lips determined not to let a sound escape. "200 years with countless victims, of course, you have perfected your skills" you cut back.ย
Perhaps bitter, that you were not his first.ย
"Not of my own free will" he answered sadly, "And yet some of them couldn't even grant me temporary pleasure." There was regret in his voice. You looked at him. Unsure what to make of that emotion. "What makes you think, I will?" You asked, indignant. Still a prisoner in his hands, trying to wrest free.ย
He smirked at that challenge.ย
"Come now, don't be coy. Your body's already given you away... I could feel it, as I was getting lost in your neck. Your little shakes of excitement....". You couldn't refute him. Remembering what you did the last time. By now he had taken every bit of clothing off your chest and laid it on the grass behind. He took you in with his eyes. No....don't look. You looked to the side.ย
Don't look at me.ย
He was just getting started. Fully exposing you, he circled a nipple with his thumb. You arched your back. The pleasure was unbearable. Then he touched another with his thumb, you moaned. He then took it between two long fingers, and stretched his hand to touch the other one with his thumb. Squeezing your breasts together with one hand.ย
You couldn't hold it any longer.ย
Your breath quickened. You let out quiet little moans and sucked in air. Breathing with your mouth, short of air. He dropped his lips on your open mouth and found your tongue with his. The devil. But you felt your resolve melt away. You kissed him back. He let your hands go, and held you in his arms caressing your back. You pulled him into your embrace, tugging at his hair. You didn't want this moment to stop.ย
"I know...." he said briefly before kissing you again, "...how you feel..." then kissed you again... "...because I feel it too..."ย
You reached down and grabbed him.ย
He moaned. A low throaty growl. He was already enlarged and extremely thick. Hard. "You cheeky little pup. Aren't you just....asking for it". He smirked again, pleasantly surprised. You pumped with your hands. The odd sense of control and when you pleasured him was ... unfamiliar and...all consuming. As if, the tables had turned. He shuddered at your moves.ย
"The gods made you, to ruin ...me".ย
He whispered, on your neck, before pulling your hands out and holding them, about your head. "Patience, darling" he growled. Then as if to punish your transgression put a finger down your underwear. Your felt a flame engulf you. The throbbing between your legs was excruciating. You wanted to feel him press against you.ย
He put his lips on your chest, between your breasts.ย
He looked at you, piercing, smouldering. "Push me away, if you like, my love" he said. You didn't know what warranted this warning from him till you felt something cold and sharp touch your skin. You looked down at him to find him sinking his fangs into you. A wave of euphoria courses through you. You couldn't tell if it was him drinking you, or his fingers, between your legs. It was all too much.ย
You leaned back and looked at the stars.ย
You felt all your strength leave you. Intoxicated you stared at the night sky. You could let him ruin you. You would surrender to him if he wished. You could be his if he wanted...forever. He took his hand out of your legs and held you squarely around your hips. Then he stopped drinking and licked his bite mark the way he always did. Then kissed it. And licked the side of your left breast. Eventually he engulfed one in his mouth.ย
You moaned out loud.ย
He put a hand on your mouth. "Hush darling...". Probably the sensible decision...you were in a rather, compromising state. You wouldn't want to be discovered. But what were you to do as he licked and kissed your breasts. There was something you needed to tell him...or ask him..but what was it. It felt like a lifetime ago. You could no longer remember. All you could think of, was your pulsating core, as you straggled him harder under the water.ย
"I think we should get back, darling".ย
"You must be exhausted and in need of some food...and rest.". He lifted you up from your half recline. You fell on his shoulders and embraced him. All you wanted, was to be close to him. Euphoric, ecstatic he had made you feel things you hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever. On his shoulders, you felt, your burning core. You gripped his shoulders, his back...hard. Your naked upper bodies, wet from the water, touching.
"Ravish me. Ravage me..." You begged.
"I wouldn't want to eat you up, all at once"ย
You could feel his grin. That half smile that you found so attractive. "I want to savor you...slowly ....darling". You had no strength in you. Was it the blood loss? He got out of the water. Stretched out his hand, and pulled you out, and you followed reluctantly. Then helped you dress. Undid what he had done to the bodice. As you stood there dazed, he reached out and firmly held your hand in his. It felt like a dream. He led you back. you felt you could follow him anywhere. And perhaps you were.
my writing warm-up today got a little out of hand so pls enjoy some Tav/Astarion (reads gender neutral but you can see my Tav under the cut) hurt/"Astarion's best attempts at comfort but they don't land real well bc he's still not sure how to Relationship and Tav is Unsure About Their Status Generally" from after clearing the Waning Moon (did I accidentally trigger the fight, yes). Takes place before The Hug Scene, but he can have some touching, as a treat.
"I don't think the fire's going to give up any secrets, dove, but you can keep glaring if you'd like." Astarion piles himself at your feet, hesitating only slightly before leaning back between your knees. The camp is silent save for the echoing, animal chittering in the surrounding forest, but you know the tension that lines his shouldersโhe does not trust the quiet.
To relax is to bare your belly for gutting; to be vigilant is to survive.
By now, you have had enough of survival to last a lifetime.
The flames crackle, and the embers that dance their way down to the dirt do little to catch your bleary eyes. Exhaustion sings through you, echoing off of your ribs like a dirge from cathedral ceilings.
"Darling?" Astarion's fingers are cool against your ankles. They ease the ache that's built up over the last several days of sprinting across gnarled roots and crumbling brick. The Shadow-Cursed Lands take no prisoners, and though you are by far the weakest among your not-so-merry band, you will not be the link that breaks the chain.
There is too much at stake to fail.
Your dry mouth works as Astarion twists to look up at you, but no words come to mind. The furrow between his brow deepens when your fingers tremble atop his head.
"You're practically falling over," he accuses. "How in the hells do you expect to make it to bed? Why haven't you gone already?"
You shake your head once, mouth twisting in a smile that lands like a slap. "I took first watch."
"Youโ" He scoffs. "Gods, is everyone in this damned camp a fool? Don't answer that," he continues when you take a deep breath. "'We're all a team, Astarion; we need to look out for one another, you prick.' You've made the point so many times that I think about it when I trance." Draping himself across your thigh, he reaches up to cradle the plane of your throat. "How much magic did that...that beast take out of you? Wretched creatureโyou should have taken the drink, you know."
"All of it," you rasp. "And quite a few scrolls, in addition."
Astarion curses. "And everyone's all left you alone."
"I volunteered."
"They have eyes. They should use them." Astarion rises, all fluid grace and towering ire as he looms, carding a hand through your mussed braids. "Let me guessโyou told them you were fine."
Though you butt your head into his palm like that cat at Last Light he was so enamored with, your eyes narrow as you glance up. "I am. Look, I can stand."
And you do, admirably steady for all of half a second before he pushes your shoulder and your calves knock against the felled tree you've dragged in for a bench. The sudden stop when Astarion grabs your elbows and pulls you into him sends a jolt down your already-frayed nerves.
"Anyone could walk up and take you, and you'd be defenseless," he murmurs. His hands slide down the length of your forearms, and then skim up to your jaw. You allow him to tip your head from side to side, but cannot meet his eyesโyou've always found it hard to reconcile their emptiness with his professed concern.
You say, "Is that what you want? To take me?"
And he says, "No."
"Are you hungry, Astarion?"
"Not for you," he says, and he sounds so disgusted that you flinch. "Oh, notโ" He clicks his tongue, then sighs. His whole body sags as he attempts to meet your eyes. "Look at me, darling. Chin up."
Though his touch is gentle, there is a poorly-concealed tremor in the fingers that curl in the hollows below your jaw. You look at his mouth, though it's impossible to read when it's lying.
"Oh, you are haunted by something tonight. I'm sorry, if that makes a difference. I only meant I want you strong tomorrow."
You list to your left and whineโit feels pathetic, even on a night such as thisโat the undercurrent of sincerity in the apology.
"Come to bed," he says, softening. "Rest. I'll take watch."
"I promisโ"
"Look aroundโno one's going to come for your throat about taking a night off." The world whirls as he twists you in his arms, then wraps them around your stomach as he nuzzles against your pulse. "I might have to get territorial if they did, you know. I do appreciate your willingness to offer it up; I'd hate to see it ruined. It would be a dreadful mess to clean up around camp, wouldn't it?
"And..." he continues, abandoning your neck in favor of walking you a few steps forward, away from the fire and toward his tent. "You sleep so soundly in my bed. I enjoy watching you come alive in the morning."
Your face heats, and you mumble, "Not that soundly."
"You snore."
Smacking lightly at the back of his hands, you squirm back around to face him. What you see does nothing to untangle the tight knot of feeling lashed to your chest: wide eyes gone soft with concern, a hint of mirth in the lines that frame them, and the beginnings of true fondness in his smile.
"What?" he asks when you avert your gaze.
You bite your tongue against the confessions borne on the leaden wings of exhaustion; this is not the place to delve into desires. It is easier to choke down I want more and I love you and We are the same shape of brokenโto let them fester where they're branded on your bonesโthan to watch his eyes shutter against the words.
"I'm tired," you say instead, and it is the truest truth you've ever uttered, "of having to protect everyone."
"So don't." Astarion bends to rest his temple against yours. "Let me be your sword and shield, if only for the night. Rest, doveโyou've more than earned it."
Bonus: my Tav, Kestra! She's a human sorcerer specializing in necromantic and cold damage, and based off of one of my original novel characters ๐ฅฐ
After being raised as a commoner, you find yourself as the last in a royal bloodline, forced into a marriage with someone youโve never met.
Heโs more than he seems.
AKA: An arranged marriage AU with everyoneโs favorite vampire.
*meekly raises hand* I'd had an idea for a drabble prompt. That hug Astarion gets? What if it also led to him kissing Tav, really kissing them for the first time? Like one that he is able to put his heart into without the fear of being used and tossed aside?
wave after wave (like a transparent star)
pairing: astarion/tav
wordcount: 762
content warnings: none
other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, kissing, gender neutral tav, human!tav if you squint
archiveofourown: here.
.
tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils, be added to the taglist here
summary: What if the hug also led to him kissing Tav, really kissing them for the first time?
โI want,โ you say with the slightest shake of your head, โI want. I wantย โย โ
This, is what you would say if you had the words to speak. Instead, you stare at Astarion with a sense of unrelenting urgency between the two of you. Itโs as though you are frozen in time with your palm resting flat against his, both of his hands framing yours protectively, his skin, his fingers, his everything laid bare against your silly little hand.
Astarion collides with you like a star racing across an ocean. He is a tide that overcomes you and threatens to take you out to sea. You wrap your arms around his thin frame to keep yourself grounded. The dark depths of the ocean swirls around you, but you hold onto Astarion and he holds onto you, your arms wrapped around his waist, his hand gently cradling the back of your head as he desperately presses his forehead against yours with a shuddering breath as he fights that urge to consume.
And just like that, a supernova creates itself in the middle of camp in the dark. You tilt your chin at just the right time to catch his mouth as he crashes into you. Astarion kisses you so passionately that you have no choice but to seek purchase on his shoulders to avoid toppling over. Thereโs hysteria in his tongue, in the way his lips tremble, but all you can smell is rosemary, bergamot, and brandy, and tears, yours and his together.
This mightโve been how he would have kissed his highborn lover back in Baldurโs Gate before everything. Before mindflayer and tadpole, before Cazador and the attack, before you and your frightening humanity.ย This is a kiss a magistrate would have given to a recently courted lover in private away from prying eyes. You almost feel as though youโre being swept off your feet, like youโre being properly romanced instead of hunted in the woods, and it does something to the pit of your stomach. You swoon.
โI think,โ Astarion says thickly, โI know what Iโm feeling for you.โ
โI know,โ you say, nuzzling his jaw. โI know you love me.โ
His eyes soften and then, well, it really is a collision this time. Somehow, Astarion kisses you roughly and tenderly all at once. His nose presses sharply into your cheek, and you clutch his elbows like at any moment, if he chooses to let go, youโll be stranded at sea. Itโs a different kiss from all those youโve experienced from him before. From the kiss during sunset, the kiss when he first drank your blood, and the shyest kiss from right after his confession. This is something else entirely. A fire let loose in the wood.
He kisses you like a man who has only known hunger. Astarion takes and he takes and he takes until youโre almost certain heโs hunting for your soul from your lips, and you would give it to him if you knew where to look for it. This is a kissย โย a real and genuine kissย โย from a man who has only known desperation, nails scraping against the grain, seeking something far beyond himself. You would feel scandalized by the passion if it were anyone else.
And when heโs done fervently kissing you, Astarion cradles your cheek in his hand and runs his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone as if you were the most precious idol he could have laid his hands on.
Thereโs something different about the gleam in his eye, a glossiness that youโve never seen before, not really. Beneath all the vitriol and discomfort, there is a young man who wants nothing more than freedom.
He presses his forehead against yours and sighs, and the sound is relief composed as a symphony by the saddest souls. You return the favor, your fingers sliding across the familiar harsh lines of his face, and decide to show him the purest of emotions so that he knows.
โI donโt know what comes next,โ Astarion says, his tone a touch agonized. โBut wherever this leads, I know that I want it to be you.โ
For once, his words are honest and match his intentions. Itโs something you come to cherish. Youโre the only one heโll ever show this side to; this kind devotion belongs to you and you alone. This is the part of Astarion that Cazador can never touch. There is still hope in his skeletal frame.
You kiss his cheek softly.
Thereโs no other place youโd rather be than at Astarionโs side.
แดแดษชสษชษดษข: (แดแด๊ฑแด) แด๊ฑแดแดสษชแดษด x ๊ฐแดแด! แด แดแดแดษชสแด! สแดแดแด แดส, แด๊ฑแดแดสษชแดษด x ๊ฐแดแด! แดแดแด ! สแดแดแด แดส
Tw: Star-crossed lovers concept, Cazador, vampirism, medieval sexism, abuse of any kind, manipulation , blood, torture, torment, violence, suicide attempt/mentioned, mentions of intimacy, death, murder, stake to the heart, angst, reincarnation. Not edited, pictures ain't mine, I got them off Pinterest.
Masterlist
Your whole life changed when your parents had sent you off to marry some Lord known as Cazador. He had been in search for a concubine. It was pretty normal for noble men to have a concubine. He could have as many as he could afford. Your parents were thrilled by the idea of you, their only daughter being with a powerful Lord. As much as you didn't to, you had to. It was your duty as their child to follow their orders. Whatever they say, goes. It was settled then, you were going to become Lord Cazador's concubine for as long as he lives. That day that you left your home, was the same day you never saw your parents again. His castle was strange, his servants were strange. They were like puppets that only followed their master's word.
The first couple months weren't so bad. Cazador was respectful, and he had given you time to adjust to your new life. He had began to spoil you, giving you things that you'd never thought you've ever see in your eyes. From the finest tailored dresses, to jewelry, makeup, books, and so on. You were basically given the life that many girls would dream off. Despite all that, it still felt strange, as if something was wrong, but you didn't put to much mind into it. You passed it as if you were home sick. As much as you tried to ignore it, the worry got bigger, as if it was a weight on your shoulders getting much heavier and heavier throughout the weeks. One night Cazador had decided to make you his. You felt nervous since you've never been with a man in your life. But that night, would be the one you'd remember for the rest of your immortal life.
Its already been years, those years became centuries. You were still Cazador's concubine. Everyday you'd wake up and just have the though of what Cazador would have planned that night. It was a routine that just kept on going. You'd wake up, and have the maid spawns come dress you. You no longer had a choice on what you could wear. It was all Cazador, he'd pick everything about your look for the night, from dresses, shoes, makeup art, hair style, jewelry and hair. Everything was either a blood red or black. His favorite colors. If you refused to wear what he'd pick out for you, then you'd wear nothing. You'd remain bare until you've learn to appreciate what he does for you. That was a way to manipulate you, he made you think that he did so much for you and the least you could do is learn to be more appreciative of what he has given you.
Its been a while since you've seen your reflection. You've almost forgot how you'd look like. Sometimes you'd spend hours and hours looking in the mirror, trying to form on how you'd look like before, but nothing. You'd just see the furniture in your room along with other things in the room. As some kind of gift, Cazador had commissioned a painting of you, he's often tell how generous he was and how he didn't have to do this. You were dressed like the night that you had been turned into a vampire spawn. Sitting still as the artist painted your every detail. You'd look at that picture as if it was the only thing keeping you alive. That painting made you remember on how your face might have looked like. But there was one thing that you didn't like, and that was the scar on your left side of your neck. It was a scar, caused by Cazador's bite of that night. It may have been a small detail, but it was noticeable. It was also some kind of reminder of what he had done to you. Everything you'd see that small bit of the painting, you'd feel a sharp pain on your neck, right on your now scarred side. Sometimes you wish you could cover it, but due to the dresses you wore, you weren't able to.
Whenever you'd disagree with Cazador on something, he'd threated to burn the picture and to never get you a new one. You'd often cry and beg on your knees for him not to do it, also to forgive you for speaking out of term. He seemed to love making you cry, he'd watch how the makeup would roll down your cheeks, messing it up and how you were on your knees with your head on the floor, begging or how'd you'd hug his knees and cry in desperation. It was some kind of sickening pleasure of his. He also love to torment you to the point that you have a breakdown. It would happen constantly, you'd never catch a break.
Not only that, but you were force to learn how to play instruments. As a way to entertain yourself and Cazador. When it came to string instruments, he'd have you play for hours and hours until your hands sore. If you'd mess up a note, you were force to restart and play the instrument until the tips of your fingers bled, even your nails would break and dig into your already cut and bleeding skin. When you were done, your hands would be shaking and raw, with blood running down your hands and fingers. You also liked to embroid, or at least he liked how you'd embroid. If he didn't like the work, he'd have you start all over again, or he'd make you sew until you hands were weak. He just loved seen you in pain. He loved watching you tear up as you sewed and played instruments, in pain. As a way to 'heal' you, Cazador would lick and bite at your bleeding fingers, to add to the pain.
Some nights you wished you could just walked into the sun, but that was impossible. Most of the night you'd be in your room. For hours, only coming out when Cazador would want you to, he'd basically keep you locked in. You barely spook to the spawns at times. Sometimes you'd write down notes and slide them under the door for the spawns to see. This was a form of punishment, even though you didn't do anything to get punished. Not just that but the only way for you to have blood was by begging for him to allow you to feed, he'd leave you starving for days until you were fed up and needed a doze of blood. But he'd have you drink the blood from his mouth, as much as you didn't want to, you did. You had the choice to just stop feeding and either go insane and violent. But you knew he wasn't going to allow you to do that. If you attempted to, it'd become worse.
One night things were different, Cazador had been gone for a while. You assumed he was probably looking for another mortal to fall for his trap and make him another spawn. That night you were in your room again, looking at the empty mirror as if you were trying to find yourself again, but you knew that was useless. Then Cazador bursted in the room. Causing you to flinch an grip onto your clasped hands much harder, digging your nails into your skin, fearing that he might due something to you, again. Then he introduced you to his new spawn. A man. He was in his late thirties, with brown hair, pale complexation, green eyes and his clothes were dirty, as if he was covered in dirt. You noticed that his right side of his neck had wound, a bite. That was already scaring. The other spawns didn't have those markings. Except for you and now him. You learned that his name was Astarion.
Once you were introduced, he made his new spawn get on his knees and kiss the toe of your shoe. This was something he'd have his spawns do, just to see them on their knees, humiliating themselves, by kissing the toes of your shoes. You'd often say that you were his one and only high raking 'Spawn Concubine'. As much as you didn't want him to go through that humiliation, he did so anyways. He already seemed scared of Cazador and what he'd do if he didn't do what he wanted. As he began to get up from his knees, you and him locked eyes. You could see the fear in each other's eyes, as if it was reflecting. You were both scared of him. And he knew it. Not only that, but he loved to see the fear that you both had.
That same night in your room, you could hear the screaming happening in the cellar and the smell of blood. You could hear how Cazador was already 'branding' his knew spawn, just like the others. You didn't get branded like they did, he'd explained to you that you're above the spawns and there for you shouldn't be branded, besides. He had already branded you. It was a reminder on your neck. For the attire night you could hear the screams echoing through the castle, as much as you wanted to not hear it, you weren't able to muffle out the noises. You felt horrible not being able to stop Cazador's torture. Last time you attempted to, was bad.
Then Cazador had come up with a great idea, his new pet, would now be in charge of going out and bringing back a prey for him and you feed on. He believed that Astarion had the perfect face to lure in any person he got his eyes on. Astarion tried to refuse and disobey, as a punishment, he locked him up in a cellar for over a whole year. With no light what so ever. You had tried and asking Cazador to please let him out, but he refused to listen. You were his concubine, not his wife. He never made you his wife, because he knew that if he did, he'd have to treat you as his equal. So he never married you, he only kept you as his concubine, as his possession for his pleasures. Finally, Astarion had been out of the cell, except his appearance changed. His once brown hair was now white and his once green eyes were now a blood red. That whole year in the cellar had changed him. Since then on, he began to obey his master.
So he began to bring back a prey, either a man or a woman. Cazador would be pleased with this, and would 'reward' him by giving him a rat to feed of. If Astarion refused to eat the rat, then he'd be killed by the other brainless spawns. You and Cazador would feed from the victim, together. He'd go for the neck and you'd go for the wrists, you were never allowed to go for the neck, if you did. Then you'd be punished severely. He'd just add that you should be greatful that you're allowed to feed. Some victims he'd keep as his spawns and others he'd kill just for his fun. This went on for a couple of years.
During those years, you had actually grown close to Astarion. You knew he only did what he did for survival, like you. You normally wouldn't ask Cazador for anything, but you had asked him if Astarion could he your personal servant, when he isn't out getting a prey. He found it odd, but allowed it. He saw no harm in that. So you had Astarion be with you for most of the evening and nights he wasn't out. He was shy at first, he thought that you too were like Cazador, due to his master's concubine and because you had a much higher rank. Except you were different. You too were a victim, except you weren't treated as a spawn, but a possession.
Him and you did a lot of things that you'd normally do on a daily. When you'd practice playing an instrument, Astarion would watch and listen to you. He too began to learn to play when you had offered to teach him. Same with reading, you'd read him books that Cazador had given you throughout the centuries. This was something new to Astarion, ever since he was brought by Cazador, he'd be constantly tormented by him. Until you had stepped in and asked for him to be with you at all times. When he wasn't out. Not only that, but you were kind to him, at first he thought you were the same as his master, but no. You were way different than the man you both feared.
Astarion loved to spend his time with you, it gave him some reason to not give up. Your kindness was keeping him alive in a way. At times when you weren't together, he'd be staring at the painting of you, hanged in the middle of the stairs of the castle. The way that you were painted was angelic like, you looked like a Queen. But he also noticed the same scar on your neck. Of course he knew that it was Cazador's doing. Besides that, you were just so beautiful. He almost couldn't believe that you were kind to him. Every time he'd be back from getting a prey, he always looked forward into being with you for a couple of days.
You were surprised Cazador had allowed this in the first place. Because you were often kept isolated front he other spawns and weren't really allowed to form any kind of friendship with them. That's the biggest reason why you'd be locked up in your room and barely able to speak with them. But Astarion seemed to be the only one you were allowed to speak to, for a while before he becomes a brainless spawns like the others. You hoped that it didn't lead to that. You really liked your new friend, it was as if you and him had formed a bond. A friendly one at that, but you felt more towards the now white haired male. It felt wrong in a way, but at the same time.
That evening was a nice one, you were doing your needle work with Astarion. Working on a black shirt that belonged to Cazador. You were sewing with a gold colored threat. Making flowers. That night Astarion didn't have to go to get prey. It was a nice and quiet, and no Cazador lurking by, since he had to take care of some 'business'. You were used to him disappearing out of nowhere with the excuse of being busy. You were to focused on the peacock you were working on while Astarion tried to follow your lead. You began to teach him how to embroider since he had asked and he was curious on your handy work. He had seen your work, specially on his Master's clothing.
Astarion was focused on the cloth in the hoop, trying to match the flower that you were making. Then he pinched his finger with the needle. Hissing in pain and dropping the hoop. You stopped what you were doing, looking over to him. You placed the shirt down and moved over towards Astarion. "Let me see." You said, then you took his bleeding finger into your hands too look at it. "I'm fine my lady." He said, respectfully. Watching you care for his pricked finger. You then leaned down and gave his injured finger a kiss. He felt his face heat up, by this gesture. You've done this so many times, and yet it feels like the first time. You didn't seem to mind getting blood on your perfectly red painted lips. You looked over at him and smiled. "Better?" you asked him, seen the flush look on his face, he nodded almost shyly like the first time you met.
You both locked eyes. Remaining frozen as you both looked at one another. You didn't even realize how you and him began to lean into one another. Slowly closing your eyes, then you both kissed. Your cold lips molding into one another's, softly. You've never been kissed this nice and sweet before. Cazador was rough and impressment. But Astarion? He was slow and passionate. You placed your hands on his shoulders, as a way to hold onto each other. He then snaked his hand at the back of your head, carefully holding your head up. Not wanting to mess up your perfectly combed hair with many hair pens and other flowers adorned to it.
The kiss was short, you pulled away and looked at him. He did the same. You didn't have to exchange words, it was clear that you and him loved that kiss. And you wanted to kiss him again. So you did, you kissed him again, a bit more eager this time. He followed your lead. You both completely forgot about what you were doing before. Now you were focused on this. You laid your body on the soft cushion of the couch. Pulling Astation on top of you. He didn't hesitate to get on top of you. He placed himself between your legs. As he continued to kiss you, more deeply. Then you ran your hand up his white shirt, feeling his cold skin against your cold fingers. Slightly touching his scarred back. Asatrion was too caught up in the moment to care, he took began to slide his hand up your skirt. Feeling your soft and delicate skin. He then pulled away and look at you.
You had a look of concern. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" you asked nervously. "No, it's just. I don't want to take advantage of you. I wouldn't want to do something that might hurt you." He explained, you knew what he said was true. You placed your hands on both sides of his cheeks. "It's okay, I want this to happen. But if you don't, then I understand." You responded, with a small smile, as a way to comfort him. "I do too, but before we go any further. Please tell me that I have your consent. I wouldn't want you to be hurt... like he has hurt you..." he said worriedly. It was no secret that Cazador always got what he wanted no matter what. You understood why he'd ask for your consent. "You have my consent, but I have yours?" You asked him, it was only fair that you'd asked for his since he asked for yours. Astarion gave you a genuine smile. "Yes, you have my consent." He responded. Then you and him went back into kissing on another. You were too focused on one another that you didn't even noticed that you were actually being watched.
It's been a while since that happened. You'd think about that night a lot. You've never been intimate with anyone, besides Cazador. But this was a new form of intimacy, Astarion actually cared about what you wanted. Unlike his Master who didn't care about anyone but himself. You felt shivered running up your spine, just thinking about Astarion's hands touching your cold skin again. As much as you wanted to do it again, you didn't want to get caught but Cazador and have Asatrion be punished. If anything, you'd be the one to take the punishment instead of him.
Then the doors of your quarters were open, it was Cazador, he looked much calm, very calm. It was almost concerning. "My dear, may I have a word with you?" He asked, you felt a lump build up in your throat and you got nervous. "Yes, what is it?" You asked him, trying to remain calm as possible. "I've heard something from one of the Spawns. That you and Astarion engaged in something, that didn't involve, embroidery." This made your non beating heart sink, now he knew. "Just say yes or no. No need for an explanation. Just yes or no will be fine." He explained to you. There was no hiding it, he knew and you know what happens when you lie to him.
Taking a deep breath, you answered. "Yes, we did, what you think we did." You responded. Cazador only nodded, then he walked closer to you, taking your hands and brought you up from the bed. He looked at your eyes for a moment, then he leaned in for a kiss. That was odd, he was calm? You thought, as he continued to kiss you. Then he pulled away, placing his hand on your cold cheek affectionately. You only stared at him, confused. "How I'm going to miss those eyes." He said, only making you even more confused. Then your eyes widen and tears developed in your eyes. A strong pain grew in your chest.
Looking down, you saw a wooden stake, piercing through the red decorated fabric of the gown. Blood already pooling on your chest. You looked back at Cazador who had a look of displeasure, with the stake in his hand. He pushed it further and pushed you down, making you whimper. Then you fell to your right side, you were having a hard time breathing in pain. You touched the now bloodied stake. Attempting to pull it out, but it was no use, you'll be dead in a bit. Your hands were shaking aggressively. Laying on your back, in pain and tears pooling in your eyes. As you tried to keep your eyes open, it was no use. You were growing weaker by the minute, the last thing you saw was Cazador watching you die as someone had come in to the courters.
As soon as Astarionn saw you on the floor, bloodied. He couldn't help but feel a wave of shock grow in his eyes. He covered in mouth in disbelief. Seen your now deceased corpse on the floor. With a stake to your heart and blood on your beautiful gown. He didn't hesitate going over and pulling you towards him. "No no, my lady." He whimpered, trying to see any sign of life, but nothing. You were gone, forever. "Be grateful that it wasn't you. I wouldn't want to loose you too soon now." Cazador taunted at him. Astation was more focused on you. He felt all sorts of emotions going on in his mind. All he could do is hug you close to him, holding your head near his lips. Trying to process what was happening. He had accidently touched the blood that was pooled on your gown and accidently smeared it on your left side of your face. He couldn't believe what was happening.
He stayed frozen with your body in his arm. Mumbling that he was sorry many times. Wishing that you'd wake up at any moment now. But now, you remained limp, not moving one inch. You were gone, the love of his life, was gone. He was forced by Cazador to let go of your body, he didn't want to. He too wanted to get flayed just to be with you again, but he knew that his master will not allow it. Your body had been burned, along with most of your belongings and such. As a way to erase you for good. Despite burning everything that you owned, that was not going have Astarion forget about you.
Two centuries had already passed and Astarion had still not forgot about you. You were in his mind for ages, he still remembered your face, smell, voice, everything. He was not going to allow your memory of you to be forgotten. The painting of you had been moved into Cazador's quarters since he had decided to keep it as his biggest trophy. Astarion had got a few glimpses of the painting when entering the room, he hated the fact that he painting was moved. But one night, he got a small sheet of paper and pain, drawing only your face on the painting. He did a decent job drawing your features, they weren't the best, but he did what he could. He also left out the scar on the left side of your neck, knowing that you didn't like that scar. He kept the picture with him at all times. He would spend hours and hours looking at it. He'd tear up almost all the time, allowing his tears to land on the soft vanilla colored paper. Often wishing that it was him who got staked instead of you. You didn't deserve to die so coldly by HIM.
Then he got captured by the mindflayers and things headed towards another direction. He was taken far from Baldur's Gate, with a tadpole inserted in his brain and now he had to find a way to get rid of it. Just great, that's exactly what he just needed. Then he came across a party of people. Maybe he could join them and help them get back to Baldur's Gate, as well as whatever needed to get done. Perhaps he could use his charm for his advantage. It was an easy plan, but then, he set his eyes on their leader. He couldn't believe it, was it possible You had the face of someone he knew, someone he loved many centuries ago. Perhaps, you may remember him in a way? Or did your new life had made you forget about him? Whatever it was, he wanted to be with you in your new life, maybe he could protect you better or even start an actual relationship with you, but will he fall for you or the person that you once were?
โโโโ โโแตฃโ
My Random Thinking @fortyninegal - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
