#dragonborn!reader
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Zahkriisos
Summary: No summary, just notes. So for those who don’t know anything about Skyrim, I’m going to give a simple overview of a few things. The Dragonborn is essentially (in its most basic form) a hero of legend. Hermaeus Mora is a Daedric Prince (kind of like a demon) and his realm of Oblivion (kind of like hell) is Apocraphya (he’s know for being a hoarder of knowledge, hence the book named world). The title of the story gets its name from a dragon priest mask, which means Bloody Sword or Sword-Blood.
Pairing: Cultist!Masema x Dragonborn!Reader
Word Count: 2772
Rating: 18+, Minors DNI
TW: Implied smut, blood, mentions of death, Dragonborn is a Breton but no other descriptors used, religious references
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Wheel of Time or The Elder Scrolls nor do I own any of the images used.
Dividers by @arcielee
Masema had been found on the shores of Solstheim by the Skaal, having washed ashore after a bad storm ravaged the island a couple years ago. He had foggy memories of his life before, but he did know he was a warrior and not from here. He was taken in by the Skaal shaman, Storn Crag-Strider, and nursed back to health, so he felt he owed it to the old man to stay and help out as needed. Even though he never felt connected to the All-Maker the way everyone else in the village did, he was still respectful of the religion and the culture. Even though he wasn’t born of the people, they still treated him like one of their own which is why the shaman decided he should help protect the pilgrims during their pilgrimage to the All-Makers stones. It was to be a long journey, one that would take months as the stones were scattered across Solstheim’s landscape.
It was at the Beast Stone, just beyond the borders of Thirsk Mead Hall, where he felt his lord’s presence for the first time. They had traveled to all the other stones and this was the last one before they would return to the village, something Masema was grateful for as he was tired of living on the road. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy spending time in nature, but the northern part of the island was all snow and ice which meant it was really fucking cold all the time. He was standing guard over the camp when he heard Lord Miraak’s voice call out from the stone before he was enthralled, the entire party starting to chant about the return of the Dragonborn and erecting shrines to their new overlord. Masema followed the orders of Miraak, first through entrapment and then of his own free will as it was the closest he had felt to any divine being in his entire existence.
As the Cult of Miraak grew, he moved through the ranks and eventually was the one giving orders to the new recruits from the Temple of Miraak. When rumors of another Dragonborn reached his ears, Miraak had given the command for Masema to send people to eliminate the ‘false Dragonborn’ in Skyrim and upon proof of their death, he would be rewarded. At first he sent out some recruits who were eager to prove their loyalty, but when they didn’t return, he started to get suspicious. There were reports of what this mysterious person was capable of, claiming they could slay dragons single-handed and were currently one of the more well known adventurers of the land. After the third attempt at killing this person, Masema started sending the more skilled men and women. After eight months of failure and many dead worshippers, Masema was well and truly pissed. If he wasn’t needed at the Temple, he’d go out and handle business himself but that just wasn’t possible right now. Preparations for the return of Miraak to the island took priority, so he resigned himself to sending another small group in the hopes this thorn in his side would finally be dealt with.
It was another cold day in the temple when Masema heard the most wonderful news. The other Dragonborn had sailed from Skyrim and was currently at Raven Rock, thanks to none other than Gjaland Salt-Sage, the same ship captain he “persuaded” to send the cultists to Skyrim originally. He even learned that the secretive person was a Breton, but no name was ever revealed to him. He thought things were finally looking up and that he’d be able to deliver the body of the false one to his lord, but how seldom does the fantasy match the reality.
As it turns out, this mysterious creature was working with the Skaal to remove Lord Miraak’s influence from the island. Somehow, on one of his trips away to check on a few things at the Earth Stone, this infuriating Breton got into the temple, killed all the cultists there and stole the Black Book from its pedestal. The nerve of that foreigner to desecrate sacred ground really solidified his resentment for them. Masema decided to take matters into his own hands and search out the defiler on his own, swearing to his lord he would handle matters before he set off in search of his target. Naturally, of course, this would be a monumental task as he would have to be careful to avoid the people he once called friends and his elusive prey seemed to be a master of hiding in plain sight. The only identifying thing about them other than the full set of ebony armor was the mask they wore, the ebony metal hiding them from the world. He recognized it as Zahkriisos, the mask of the dragon priest that was buried in Blodskal Barrow, an old Nordic ruin north of Raven Rock.
He tracked his query across all the island, but they were always one step ahead of him. With the help of Frea, Storn’s daughter, they slowly but surely cleansed the stones and cut off Miraak from speaking with any of his worshippers. After the second to last stone was cleansed and the false one had obtained all of the Black Books, Masema knew he needed to return to the temple and try to defend the last stone. It was here that he heard his lord’s voice for what would be the last time, telling him that all was as it should be and that his destiny was to battle the Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha. Lord Miraak claimed that the fate that had been chosen for him would come to pass and that he was pleased with the loyalty and devotion Masema had shown him.
It was here that Masema was waiting for them, standing in front of the Tree Stone in his robes and mask, the last member of a once strong cult. He saw the Dragonborn glide down the hall, their cloak flowing behind them and the mask covering their face as well. He tried to determine the identity of the Dragonborn, but their armor covered them from head to toe, the ebony metal muted in appearance and fitted in the most generic of ways. The soft clanking of their boots on the stone echoed down the hall and into the chamber he occupied, steadily getting louder the closer they got. When they finally stopped several feet away, the tension was palpable as they sized the other up.
For a moment, they both stood there and stared at each other in silence, the weight of their respective destinies entwining with one another in the space between them. He noticed they traveled alone, the Black Book in their hands as they prepared for the final battle against Miraak. There was an energy that clung to them and their armor, the kind that only the favored of the gods could possess and that gave him pause. He found he had no desire to fight them, the futility of their situation coming into focus for him. He could not prevent their destiny from playing out, but he could choose whether he be another body for them or to stand aside and live another day. He chose the latter.
”I will not interfere with what fate has decreed. I shall watch over your spirit as you do what you must,” Masema stepped off to the side, head bowed slightly as he addressed the Dragonborn. The only response he received was a simple nod before the masked warrior opened the book, the tentacles of Hermaeus Mora bursting from the enchanted pages, wrapping around their form and pulling them into Oblivion with a sickeningly green flash of light. All that remained of the mysterious Breton was a spectral image, one that offered no insight to the identity of the physical person.
After what felt like an eternity of pacing back and forth in front of the stone, the book came alive and unceremoniously spit the body of the Dragonborn back out. Masema was startled at the sudden appearance, until he saw the blood dripping from a wound on their side and off their blade onto the stone ground beneath them. There was a new crack in the mask, their shoulders heaving as they pant in an attempt to catch a breath. No words needed to be said, Miraak was dead and the victor returned to the land of the living.
Wordlessly, Masema helped them up, careful not to agitate the wound as the two staggered down the dank halls of the crumbling temple. The walk to the old medical room passed in silence, the sounds of footsteps and heavy breathing bouncing off the stone walls with a soft echo. He helped the Dragonborn onto a wooden cot draped with furs before wandering towards the shelves in search of healing herbs or potions. He hears the telltale signs of the wounded Breton removing their armor, the sounds of metal and leather hitting the ground while his back is turned. When he turns around after having found a single healing potion amidst the disorganized shelf, he nearly drops the glass vial when he sees the Dragonborn for the first time.
He’s surprised to see a woman sitting on the cot, a thin wound bleeding from her hairline and the once pristine linen tunic sticking to her torso, the gash on her side bloodying the fabric. He was frozen in place, her eyes capturing his and the smirk gracing her lips indicating she is used to such behaviors. She holds her hand out, waiting for Masema to hand her the potion he holds. Even though her injuries look serious, she doesn’t push or taunt him, simply being patient as he collects his thoughts. With a shaky breath, Masema closes the distance and hands her the vial, watching as she downs it in one. He’s so caught up in being in front of such beauty that when she speaks, it startles him.
”What is your name?” She asks simply, her voice soft as she lifts her tunic and gets a look at her injury. She lifts her hand, a warm light emitting from her fingers and wrapping itself around her like an aura as she casts a healing spell that closes the wound better than any stitching. Masema watches a little starstruck as the woman literally glows for a moment, forgetting she had asked a question. When she raises a brow at him, he blushes furiously and swallows hard, having been caught gawking at her.
He clears his throat and looks at the ground, grateful for his mask hiding his face from her. “My name is Masema, Dragonborn,” he spoke quietly, fidgeting with his gloves and taking a few steadying breaths.
”A pleasure to meet you, Masema,” she gave him her name and he tasted it on his tongue, finding that the name suited her beautifully. “Would you mind if I asked your story? You are the only cultist who hasn’t attacked me outright and I’m curious as to why.”
He nodded in agreement and they proceeded to talk for hours, the candles burning low by the time they finished. She listened to his story, no judgment or anger in her eyes when he told her the truth of his involvement with Miraak. About halfway through, Masema felt comfortable enough to remove his mask and the act of trust made her smile, something so minor but it made his heart beat a little faster.
After she decided needed to leave the ruins to find food and clean up, Masema found himself unwilling to leave her side. He followed behind her after she got dressed again, letting her lead the way through the labyrinth of halls. Once outside, they both breathed in the cold fresh air, a far cry more refreshing than the stale air inside the temple. He hesitated as she started off in the direction of Thirsk, wanting to stay with her but unsure if she would want that. He looked around at the landscape, trying to gather the words to ask, but she beat him to the punch.
She was stopped several feet away, Zahkriisos held loosely in her hands at her side as the sun shone brightly behind her. ”Masema, how would you like to adventure with me?” Her question offered him the choice to walk away, but when she was looking at him like that, he couldn’t resist accepting her offer. He’d follow her to the end, to the very halls of Sovngarde and beyond if she’d let him.
She smiled and nodded, looking out over the horizon before turning and continuing on her journey. Masema breathed a sigh of relief, a smile on his face as he looked at the yellow mask in his hands. It was a symbol, a reminder of a life he was no longer living. With a sigh, he left his mask on the stone steps of the now deserted place he once called home, leaving behind one life and eagerly walking towards the next.
Masema had been traveling with the Dragonborn for several months now and he learned a lot about this woman in that time, like the reasons his assassination attempts never worked. For starters, she was the leader of half the guilds in the damned kingdom. He also learned that she only used her respective titles when outright doing business for them and wore different masks when dealing with the general population, only a select handful of her closest allies knowing her name. He practically swooned upon learning she had trusted him enough to know her identity, even more when he discovered through a friend of hers that she rarely kept traveling companions for more than a few weeks. Apparently this was to help maintain her secrecy, but since he had proven himself to be trustworthy and loyal to her, she kept him by her side.
His life finally had purpose again, serving and protecting her on their travels having made him realize that Miraak was a fraud, using his divinely given powers to assert dominion over the people he was meant to protect. Whenever he felt shame for his past actions, she was right there to tell him that his future doesn’t need to be weighed down by the consequences of the past. She did, however, prevent him from falling down the same path of reverence he once showed Miraak, claiming that she had no desire to be worshiped by the masses and that history wasn’t kind to those who sought such power. Even if she wouldn't have a following like her predecessor, Masema had no qualms being wholly devoted to her. He found her desire to aid everyone, even the poor and displaced, inspiring. It’s no surprise her kindness towards him and everyone else had him falling in love with her.
It was during one of their adventures, camped somewhere in Whiterun Hold under the stars and two moons of Nirn, when he finally confessed his feelings to her. He had felt nervous, his palms sweaty and avoiding her gaze as he stared into the small campfire. When he heard her get up and walk over to him, he finally dared to look up at her and was shocked to see her hand outstretched towards him, a silent request to take it as she stood there in the low light of the fire. He placed his hand in hers, standing up and following her towards their shared tent, his breathing uneven as she pulled him along behind her.
No words were said, their lips finding the others in the darkness of the tent and hands pulling at laces and straps of their garments. Masema laid her back on her bedroll, taking his time to learn her body even if he couldn’t see it. His fingers traced over old scars, his lips following close behind. He licked, kissed and bit her skin, leaving physical marks on her the same way she had done to his soul. He doesn’t know how long they stayed wrapped in each other, just know that it wasn’t nearly long enough. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, the sounds of her soft breathing as she rested her head on his chest the most wonderful thing he thought he’d ever experienced. Masema sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Creator and the Divines for giving him a chance to find redemption, feeling a sense of certainty spread through his veins at the idea of aiding the true chosen of Akatosh.
Taglist: @valeskafics @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @gemini-mama @alexagirlie @thenameswinter99 @mrsarnasdelicious @synintheraven
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UNDER HIS SKIN [AMD.T X READER]
PART I.
summary: Aemond loves his big sister, so unfairly married to another. So unfairly away from him for seven cruel years. So when his sweet sister returns to King's Landing again, he is determined to show her he is not a child anymore.
warnings: none? Correct me if I'm wrong please 🫶🩷
a/n: smut is in the second part 🫶 not this one since it is mostly childhood focused my loves 🫶
Aemond had never gone a day without thinking of you. How could he when you were in his life? His half-sister. His beautiful y/n, his beautiful wife-to-be.
Just after Aemma, and right before Alicent, King Viserys the Peaceful married your mother, Myria Martell of Dorne. In that short time before her death, the olive-skinned woman managed to bear you, her exquisitely beautiful daughter.
A girl possessing both Dornish and Valyrian beauty? The Realm roamed with anticipation. You had the dark skin and olive skin of a Dornishwoman, combined with the features and eyes of a Valyrian beauty.
From his first breath, you were his virtue. You were five years old, holding Alicentʼs third-born. Your big blue eyes shone with adoration, and you could swear his little hands reached out for you.
If Alicent had trouble managing Helaena as a babe, Aemond had to be ten times worse. He cried out your name so often, that his mother would be forced to plead for your help. Every cry of your name was accompanied by a bitter feeling in your absence.
Like the sweet girl you were, you had no objections to helping your stepmother take care of her third child. You doted on Aemond, and you could not contain your excitement when he ultimately, at a year old, took his first steps into your arms. You kissed his forehead as he relished the feeling of your warm touch.
You would spend your free time playing with him and Helaena, his head on your lap and Helaena showing you her bugs.
And as you grew into a ravishing young woman, Aemond continued to follow behind you, his small frame glaring at any Knight or nobleman who looked at you too long.
You had been content to read with him, kissing his cheek every night before you tucked the eight-year-old into bed. Aemond couldnʼt imagine a good night without your kiss. He wouldn't.
One day, you'd be his wife. His and his alone. If his lady-mother betrothed Helaena to Aegon, it is only fair that you and him do the same thing. Once he is of age to marry, he will convince Mother Alicent to keep the bloodline pure.
His annoyance at not being able to obtain a dragon had never been directed at you. Never.
The door creaked open to your chambers, like most nights. The small sound causes you to stir awake. You weren't a deep sleeper.
“Valonqar,” you smile tiredly, scooting over “What is wrong?”
Aemond said nothing, just sighed as he crawled into your arms.
Your hair was unkempt and your eyes were half closed. So adorable.
“Cuddle me, rōva mandia,” he murmured, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His arms resorted to wrapping around your waist, and his soft sighs sent his breath tickling your neck. “I haven't a dragon yet.”
You sighed softly, taking his face in your hands and beckoning him to look you in the eye.
“Aemond, look at me.” you requested softly, to which he, with slight reluctance, looked you in the eyes. he loved the way you looked at him. how your face softened when your eyes landed on him. “You will get a dragon. How could a dragon not like you? You are everything good.”
Those words did it for him. they made his heart flutter like none could. he took a good look at her face and took some moments to admire her beauty. your sun-kissed skin looked heavenly in the moonlight shining on the sheets and her face, making her eyes shine brighter than they usually did.
At that moment, all the prince could think about was how he’d marry you someday. No matter what people say he could do.
With that thought, his body drifted off to slumber, holding you close to him. His head on your chest and a small smile gracing his face.
So imagine his turmoil when you were announced to be betrothed to a lord of house Lannister the very next evening.
He begged, begged, begged Alicent to discuss this with Father and reconsider.
“Betroth her to me once I am of age.” he urged his mother, his frustration rising as his efforts seemed futile. His lady-motherʼs decision was as if it was set in stone.
The night before your departure, he visited you one last time and slept cuddling you. At a given point, his eyes fluttered open and he stared up at the ceiling.
“Fools. All of them.” he quietly spoke up, his tears dried on his cheek. “At least they didn’t betroth you to that bastard.”
“Aemond,” you spoke up softly, brushing his hair out of his face. “You mustn't call him that. He is our nephew.”
“Be that as it may, his father is still a Strong,” he replies coldly, leaning into your touch. he turned his head so that his lips brushed against your cheek. You’re lucky he loves you enough not to stress your mind with the image of those Strong boys.
You sighed, deciding it was best to drop this matter. Perhaps his childhood crush, along with his disdain for your nephews would fade. You pulled him closer like two cats keeping each other warm. Perhaps his interest would fade once you married a lord of Casterly Rock.
The next day had come by rather quickly, and you had bid goodbye to each relative with a kiss on the cheek.
However, Aemond felt as if the kiss you planted on his cheek meant so much more than the ones you planted on the others.
And off you had gone, married to a man of House Lannister.
7 years of marriage had gone by, and you had sired 4 healthy boys. Your husband treated you better than most Lords and you could not be happier. You continued being the sweet and well-spoken young woman and you couldn't be happier in the presence of your dear sons.
So it was only natural when your sons came with you as you visited Kingʼs Landing again. You kept your sons at your hip as you exited the carriage, greeted by the sight of your dear brother.
Once your eyes landed on him, it seemed you were unable to tear them away. He grew. When he used to be half your size, he grew to be almost as tall as your step-grandsire. His lean and muscled figure stood tall and gracious. His gorgeous sharp features were accompanied by a grin on his face. You were almost envious of his shiny hair.
“Mandia.” he grins, taking your soft palm in his, pressing a kiss on your index finger. “It pleases me so to see you again.”
He had to refrain himself from pouncing on you, reminded of your sons at your side. All he wanted now was to shower you with kisses. Seven, he’d take you in that carriage if he could.
“Valonqar,” you smile, holding your four-year-old in your arms. gods, he grew to hate when you called him that. why must you still refer to him as little? “I hope you have been doing well.”
He wasn't stupid. He knew she was referring to Driftmark. He kept the letters you wrote to him, reassuring him that he was still handsome despite the lost eye.
“I have,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek, too close to your jaw. “And who are these little Lords?”
“Vahaemor, Vigor, Vador, and Vahaegon.” you beam with the most radiant smile he’s seen, the youngest asleep in your arms.
“Motherhood soothes you, mandia.” he coos, cupping one cheek with his left hand. you had to refrain from breaking out into a smile at his affectionate albeit slightly inappropriate gesture.
His eyes flickered to your sons, patting their little heads and smiling down at them. Your oldest son Vahaemor stood proudly, trying his best to imitate Aemondʼs posture.
“And I suppose each one of you will make a fine swordsman?” Aemond teases, to which your boys break out in talk and laughter.
“I'm already better than Vahaemor!” your second-born, Vigor speaks up, causing Vahaemor to grow irritated.
“You could not even beat an infant with a wooden sword!” Vahaemor retorts, lightly shoving Vigor.
“Mother!” Vigor whines, hitting your oldest-bornʼs arm.
“Look what you have caused, Aemond.” you tease playfully, rocking your youngest in your arms as your third-born, Vador, waddles over to Aemond to hug his leg.
“Tʼwas merely a compliment.” Aemond grins, looking down at Vador before taking him in his arms. gods, he should have been their father. he has not inquired yet about your Lord-husband, however, he was certain he could treat you better in any and every way. no doubt that if your husband were out of the picture, he would have had you. he would give your sons silver-haired siblings.
“Mhm,” you sigh softly, smiling up at him. what he wouldn't do to make you smile like that every day. “Let us enter the Keep. I wish to have my youngest sleep on a bed instead of me.”
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond one eye#asoiaf#house targaryen#aegon targaryen#helaena targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd x reader#hotd#aemond smut#prince aemond#aemond the kinslayer#aemond x you#aemond x oc#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x y/n#aemond x fem!oc#house lannister#dragonborn
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When you are looking for content of Durge and you found a free online game that is an RPG investigating the murders in Baldurs Gate
My honest to god reaction and I’m like where the hell was this gold nugget when I needed it!! Welp guess I’m gonna play it and have fun with it!!! Might record it!
#bg3#bg3 bhaalspawn#bhaal#durge x reader#durge#baldurs gate 3#the dark urge#durge dragonborn#default durge#the dark urge x reader#dark urge x reader
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Sex pollen
Summary:You got hit by a sex pollen potion while on a mission and you can't stop yourself when around Gale
Type:Scenario:Smut: Gale X M!Reader
Version:bg3
⚠️FEMALE AND MINORS DNI!!⚠️
~
You and Gale have been dating for a while now, but have never gotten intimate. For a few reasons, but mainly because your a Dragonborn, a big Dragonborn. And as you know, a Dragonborns dick isn't really...made for humans, it's larger, thicker, and sharper? Either way, you've always been worried you'd hurt him. But now, it's all you can think about after getting hit with a sex pollen potion, it worked just like the real thing!
First pov!
I stumbled into camp, groaning as my pants felt excruciating tight. I grumbled angrily, rubbing my face as I walked past Karlach and Astarion. I could feel eyes on me, probably just the group being worried about me. Walking over to my tent I suddenly stopped, my body seemed to move on its own as I smelled Gales scent. I growled, my legs forcing me to walk to him. After a few minutes I spotted him by the lake, a dark look formed in my eyes as I walked up behind him.
"Gale..."
My voice was low, startling Gale. He turned around and smiled up at me. Standing up and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.
"Hello my love, do you need something?"
I felt my control slipping away, my only thought was fucking him, Breeding him. Gripping his arms I pulled him into a crushing hug, my erection pressing against his lower stomach, causing a soft gasp to leave his lips.
"Yeah...I need you, right now, right here"
Gale stopped, heat rising to his face at the thought. Gulping, he looked up at you, a tad bit worried.
"Are you alright? You seem, Different"
I groaned, shoving him against a tree roughly and hugging his waist. I pressed my body against his, grinding my erection against his own.
"Please, Gale...I-I don't know how much more I can take"
I whimpered at the friction between our dicks, the cloth adding extra stimulation against my throbbing member. Gale was silent for a moment before sighing.
"Alright, bu-"
He didn't finish his sentence as I pinned him against the forest floor and tore his clothes off, I mumbled thank yous as I hastily fumbled with my belt, not even bothering to fully take my pants off as I thrust my dick into his tight hole. Gale let out a loud scream as I thrusted my full length into him, his whole body burning from the intensity and the sudden intrusion. It was painful, the potion wasn't letting me see straight, making a concerned look cross my face.
"Ah- I'm sorry! I-I couldn't stop myself"
I pressed soft kisses to his body, gripping his hips roughly as I tried to hold back as much as possible, I felt bad, but the potion made my mind hazy with need. I nuzzled my face against his neck, my legs trembling as I attempted to hold back my urge to pound him into next week. I waited until he was ready to start moving. My hips were going slow at first, and then the potion knocked me off my normal state of mind. He was so warm and tight- I couldn't stop it. A low growl escaped my throat as I started moving my hips at an intense speed, my Dragonborn instincts also kicking in as I started to rail him. I was like an animal, grunts and growls leaving my throat as I gripped his hips tightly. Loud crys and moans left Gales mouth, his pretty face shoved into the dirt as he trys to quiet himself to not alert the other companions. Gale trembled at the force of my thrusts, his dick throbbing and dripping pre-cum onto the world below. A low, breathy growl escaped my mouth as I suddenly changed positions. Standing on my feet I pulled his hips up so his ass was in the air, then I bent my knees so I pushed my dick back inside, holding his hip and shoulder tightly I leaned forward and started thrusting back into him, the position change made my dick reach farther, stretching him more than any human dick ever has, every crevice and bump and stroked by my dick. His prostate was abused by this new position. Gale arched his back, his eyes rolling and drools trickling down his chin as his mind became solely focused on the large dick pounding him from the back. His moans only got louder, and I felt the familiar warming feeling in my stomach. Gales legs trembled and his arched, a loud scream like moan escaping his throat as he came all over himself and the ground. I followed soon after, cumming deep inside him and grinding against his hips before pulling out. I flipped him onto his stomach, holding his legs together and tossing them over my shoulder as I pushed back into him. Gales eyes widen and he looked up at me, his eyes wide and a quiet whimper leaving his mouth. A large smirk crossed my Features as I saw this, grinding my hips against his ass I chuckled.
"You didn't rhink I was done, did you? You've clearly have never dated a Dragonborn.
~
[A/n:I've never really wrote Smut, so I hope this was good 😅. I hope you enjoyed]
#bg3#bg3 x reader#bg3 x tav#bg3 x male reader#bg3 dragonborn#bg3 gale#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#gale x tav#baldurs gate gale#gale x reader#gale x male reader#baulders gate 3#bauldur’s gate
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What about Astarion X Dragonborn!Tav headcanons?
This one was really tricky! I had to spend some time reading about the Dragonborn. Hope you will enjoy it
Apparently, Dragonborns in DnD are more mammals than reptiles. They are warm-blooded and have human-like biology (except for laying eggs).
Masterlist
Headcanons
Astarion x Dragonborn!Tav
There is the thing about you two, a literal dragon and an elf.
Dragonborns are from a different world, Abeir, and arrived in Toril only during the Spellplague, only a century ago.
Rare in number, exotic, scary.
Astarion had to sleep with thousands of people. Humans, dwarves, elves, gnomes, name it yourself.
Any possible relationship is tainted at best.
But Astarion was never forced to sleep with Dragonborns.
They were never among the victims. Ever.
When he is with you, he can forget.
Being with you doesn't awake unpleasant memories.
Your skin is covered with beautiful scales, and your dragonlike face doesn't show humanoid emotions.
You are different. Alien. Gorgeous.
You are much bigger than him and stronger.
Sometimes, when you hug Astarion, you are afraid to break him as if he is made of crystals.
Your thick fingers and claws are nothing like his delicate palms.
When you caress his hands, you fear hurting him, ruining his perfect silk-like skin.
Often you carry Astarion around in your hands or on your shoulders - he is almost weightless to you.
You are warm-blooded, but the temperature of your body is much higher than that of other humanoids. It feels feverish, and the most of the non-dragonborns you meet refuse to touch you since your scales are just too hot.
But that's exactly what Astarion needs.
He is always cold, the freezing grip of death owns his undead heart.
You are basically a walking heater to him. When you sleep, he just cuddles you, stealing as much warmth as he needs.
And you also feel comfortable with something cold in your hands
Astarion loves your scales. He often washes you, seeing water streaming down your muscled body.
Your blood tastes different - it has fire in it, and it burns in a good way.
Like all the Dragonborns you are good with arts and especially crafting. You make jewelry for Astarion - mostly something Elven-coded.
You treat him like your own beautiful princess you saved from a monster.
And he answers with love and care you would never expect from non-Dragonborn.
Besides, your ancestors were slaves, bred, and exploited for the sake of Draconic Lords - you've never been a slave yourself, but the hatred toward evil masters is innate.
Eventually, you take Astarion home, to Tymanther, a displaced kingdom on the far east of Faerun.
You make him a part of your kin, so, once you are gone, he still has a place to belong.
--
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@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy @tugoslovenka
#spacebarbarian headcanon#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#astarion romance#bg3#astarion bg3#astarion headcanon#baldurs gate 3#astarion headcanons#astarion x tav#astarion x f!tav#tav x astarion#astarion x gn!tav#astarion x gn reader#astarion x reader#astarion and tav#astarion x you#bg3 dragonborn#dragonborn#dragonborn tav#astarion ancunin
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Mate (AFAB!Dragonborn x Farkas
Rating: Explicit
Additional Tags: PWP, In Heat/Mating Cycles, Werewolf Mates, Companions Questline, PIV
Summary:
You were already pent up as it was, but seeing Farkas in nothing but his breeches almost sent you in a frenzy. As you walked into the room, it took everything in you not to bury your face on his pillow, instead you tried arranging his bed while he closed the door to his bed. You could almost see the gears turning inside Farkas’ head, you gathered he was probably smelling your pheromones and trying to understand why you were there. You tried not to stare at his bare chest and how good it would feel to run your hands through his abdomen. “I… I thought I had more time to prepare. Aela told me this would happen, but I…” You sighed, fidgeting with his pillows as you tried to adjust the bedding.
“Are you… nesting on my bed?”
You dropped his pillow. Right, that was what you were doing.
A/N: I didn't find A SINGLE Heat Fic pwp with Farkas. They're werewolves! That's the whole point of being a werewolf: feral sex.
Anyways, hope you enjoy it.
Jorrvaskr was asleep. The night had draped its serene embrace over Whiterun, as the weary warriors found solace within their familiar haven. Farkas himself was deep in the realm of dreams, enjoying the peace of his unassuming chamber. Yet, the tranquility was abruptly shattered by a sudden and insistent pounding on his bedroom door. Startled from his slumber, Farkas jolted awake, heart racing in surprise with the sound of pounding on his bedroom’s door.
He was ready to assume the worst, a strategy that worked just fine for Farkas over the years; strike first, think later. He grabbed the greatsword at the end of his bed and readied his stance until he heard your voice from behind the door.
“Farkas, are you up?" Your voice was breathy, a hint of urgency in your tone.
He put his guard down, it was just you, the dragonborn. He respected and greatly admired you as his shield-sister, appreciating your company whenever you came back from your adventures. He trusted you with his life. He stored his sword away before opening the door.
Sure enough he was met to the sight of you as he opened the door. He was always happy to see you, almost forgetting for a second it was the middle of the night and you woke him up because you probably needed something. You weren’t wearing your full armor, instead you sported a more casual outfit that you used to sleep in, the sight was welcome to Farkas. Seeing you in a more vulnerable position was different, he was much more used seeing you armored from head to toe. It brought back memories from the first time you arrived in Jorrvaskr, full of questions, wanderlust and with a very unusual story to tell. Vulnerable in your nightclothes, yes, maybe that was why he was feeling a sudden overprotective urge.
“Shield-sister, it’s late. Did something happen?” He asked, his eyes darting around the hallway to check for any danger. That was when it hit him. The scent.
Your scent.
Farkas and the other Companions had a very strong sense of smell, it was normal for Farkas to recognize someone solely by their scent, but this wasn’t just your usual scent, this was stronger. Sweeter. And way more distracting.
“Close the door, I don't want to wake the others,” you said, making your way past him and sitting on his bed. You were already pent up as it was, but seeing Farkas in nothing but his breeches almost sent you in a frenzy. As you walked into the room, it took everything in you not to bury your face on his pillow, instead you tried arranging his bed while he closed the door to his bed. You could almost see the gears turning inside Farkas’ head, you gathered he was probably smelling your pheromones and trying to understand why you were there. You tried not to stare at his bare chest and how good it would feel to run your hands through his abdomen. “I… I thought I had more time to prepare. Aela told me this would happen, but I…” You sighed, fidgeting with his pillows as you tried to adjust the bedding.
“Are you… nesting on my bed?”
You dropped his pillow. Right, that was what you were doing. You blushed hard, caught off guard. This was your first heat, Aela had warned you about heats and how they worked after you had been turned. You had simply completely forgotten. You couldn’t be blamed, you had a lot to do as Dragonborn and your first heat was supposed to happen later, you were sure you had more time to prepare. You were always planning on talking to Farkas about it.
“I… guess I am,” you admit defeated “Farkas, I’m… going into heat.”
“Then you really,” his breath hitched, a low growl in his voice “really, shouldn’t be in here.” His hand gripped the door handle to ground himself, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip.
“I’m here for a reason, Farkas,” you said solemnly, you got up and walked towards him. He shot you a glare.
“Don’t come any closer,” his voice was raspy and his commanding tone made you stop in your tracks. “I don’t know how much longer I can control myself with you in this state.” His breath was labored and his gaze was intense.
“Farkas I don’t want you to control yourself,” you looked at him through half-lidded eyes, regaining courage to walk closer and reach for his hand. “I want you to help me…”
As soon as your fingers touched his hand it sent a spark of electricity through you’ve been hit by a Chain Lightning spell. You didn’t even get to hold his hand, he grabbed your wrist and pulled your body flush against his. He leaned down burying his nose in the crook of your neck, taking in as much of your scent as he could. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief at his proximity, at the sheer intimacy. You grabbed onto him like a lifeline, your instincts slowly taking over your mind, the wolf inside you screaming for more.
“Please… Farkas…” You muttered under your breath.
Farkas pulled you up by your thighs and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He dropped you on the bed, oddly enough the little organizing you managed to do added so much to your comfort level. Farkas was on top of you, his mouth was hungry for yours and you were all too happy to oblige, you kissed him back, running your fingers through his long hair.
“I don’t know if I can be gentle,” he admitted through gritted teeth, his hands undoing your blouse and groping your breasts.
“You don’t have to be…” You reassured him, his mouth was on your neck now marking you with his teeth as he pinched your nipples. You moaned in pleasure but with a hint of impatience, you squirmed under him pushing your hips up to feel some friction. “Please, please, I need you inside.”
He grunted before gripping your waist and forcing your hips down.
“It’s your first heat. I don’t wish to hurt you.”
“I can take it, Farkas, please, my mate, I need you, need your cock,” you begged, your instincts completely overwhelming you with need. Farkas froze at your words before eagerly undressing the both of you in a rush.
You whined each time his hands left your skin, you felt feverish and aching with need. You were already soaked when Farkas pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, he looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust. You didn’t trust your voice to beg him again, so you tried to give him a pleading look hoping to get him to have mercy on you and give you what you were craving.
A broken moan left your mouth as he entered you with his length, Farkas seemed to be losing control, as you hoped, his patience and kindness giving place to his feral instincts to take and breed. He was fully in, save for his knot, when he started moving his hips fast and deep.
Your whines and moans were loud, you couldn’t help it, his tip was hitting deep into you and your body programmed itself to feel nothing but pleasure at this time. Your mind was completely gone, solely focusing on Farkas’ cock slamming into you with force and speed.
“Mine, mine, mine…” Farkas kept repeating and his words only brought you closer to climax, giving yourself completely to your mate to be owned and used to his content was embarrassingly arousing. “My mate… You look so beautiful, so needy for me, for my knot, you want me to stuff you full, hm?” You nodded rapidly, trying to let him know how eager you were without depending on your words, since you weren’t sure you could even string a sentence together. But that wasn’t enough for him, he pulled at your hair and growled into your ear. “Say it, say what you want.”
You whined, the sting in your scalp only fueling your pleasure, you looked up at him with an imploring look. “Farkas please, I want y-you to breed me please…”
He grunted, his pace steady as he looked into your eyes. “Do you? Then why did you wait so long to seek me?” He punctuated his phrases with deeper thrusts, making you cry out as he hit your deepest and sweetest spot. “Why parade around Jorrvaskr smelling this sweet and ripe for the taking? Were you hoping just any Companion would take you out in the hallway?” His voice was aggressive, possessive and it turned you on so much. “Skjor? My brother?”
You shook your head. “N-Never! Just you, I’m yours Farkas… Please!”
“Cum for me.” He growled and picked up the pace. You do. You saw stars when he reached deep inside you, the warmth of his body against yours and his teeth biting down your neck. Farkas wasn’t too far behind himself, his pace getting erratic and you could feel yourself yearn for his knot. “I’ll cum deep inside of you, my mate. Is that what you want?”
“Please… I need it, please, please…” You begged pulling him into another kiss.
His mouth devoured yours as he pounded you into the mattress, his own beast ordering him to breed you, to take you, to claim you. He thrust one last time into you, his knot plopping into you, locking you together as he buried his seed deep inside your pussy. He moaned against your ear, tugging your hair as you felt his breath on your skin.
You held each other for a second, catching your breath and letting the afterglow warm your heart. Farkas placed a kiss on your forehead and stroked your hair.
“I’ll take care of you, however many times you may need it, my mate,” he said, voice low and earnest. You hummed contently and nodded.
“Can we go once more?” You said and he chuckled.
“However many times you need it.” He repeated.
#skyrim fanfic#skyrim fanfiction#skyrim x reader#skyrim x you#skyrim x oc#tes fanfic#tesv farkas#farkas x reader#farkas x dragonborn#farkas skyrim#skyrim farkas
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𐙚 . . . CICERO.
A N: Hey, lovebugs. Not a request, just a silly little idea I came up with while listening to Stalker by Stevie Howie. As usual, gender neutral reader.
A B O U T: Cicero has always loved his dearest listener. But when does love become dangerous, and how far will Cicero go?
W A R N I N G S: Stalker and obsessive themes. Cicero is just an absolute freak!
There they are.
The sanctuary finally felt like home again. Their outfit: black, red, skintight, and stained with blood; it caused an ache in Cicero's stomach as he watched with heavy and dark eyes.
Oh, how he wished he could travel with you more often.
See the world with you.
By your side. Always.
His heart thumped at the mere thought of watching you, always, guiding you.
Needing you.
Oh, how he needed you. So bad.
Your voice, ragged and rough. Your blade is still wet. Your lips curled into a slow smile. You laughed, like music to his ears.
Wait.
You're smiling. Laughing. At him? The stupid Nord, the stupid initiate?
His fist balled up, his leg bobbed up and down in a violent manner as he watched from the shadows. Always in the shadows. Watching you. He had since the day you met. Since the day you smiled his way. Showed him kindness. You never joked about the jester. No, you liked him. You respected him. But you didn't love him, did you? Never poor old Cicero! Forever the fool.
You were so dumb! You. Are. His. His flamed hair framed his face as he ducked his head, eyes glaring with poison. He wanted to rip that bastards face off. Maybe he would wear it. Would you like him if he looked like Stupid Nord Man? Or would you hate him? For taking the man who made you laugh out of your life?
Why are you still laughing? By the Void. Get a grip. He's not that funny.
You touched his arm. Why won't you touch Cicero instead? He's softer. Cleaner. Smells nice, too! Cicero just... didn't understand. Why. Him. Why not the fool? Just once. Pick him.
Cicero had always loved you. Since the day you met. Actually, quite some time before that, too. He watched you that day in Whiterun. Oh, he felt so... Alive. Fresh into Skyrim and already in love? The Night Mother surely graced him with you for all the hard work he's ever done. You're a gift. His gift. Not that stupid man's. No. You're his.
And he'll make sure you'll never fall into the arms of a lesser person. Never. Cicero enjoys the kill. He's sure that the Night Mother would turn a blind eye... all in the name of true love!
#skyrim headcanons#skyrim x dragonborn#skyrim x reader#elder scrolls x reader#skyrim#skyrim headcanon#the elder scrolls#cicero x listener#cicero x reader#skyrim cicero#skyrim cicero x reader
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Time Moves Slow - Farkas
sfw, gn reader
Summary: After returning from Sovngarde the Dragonborn finds that a handful of hours for them has been years for those in Tamriel and reunites with their loved one.
Others Linked: Vilkas, Brynjolf, Teldryn, Miraak, Cicero
Full of adrenaline and excitement you hustled through the Whiterun plains. Your pack pounded against your lower back but every step brought you closer to Farkas.
It was a tad surprising to return to no fanfare. A city guard nodded when you approached the gate but said nothing. The flowers you'd planted only a few weeks ago were nearly dead and Breezehome's paint was faded.
It was odd to stand in front of your own home and not recognize it. Dark curtains covered most windows and a workbench boasted some unfinished leather project. Your key stuck in the unforgiving lock.
Dread settled into your stomach upon entering your home. The furniture was new, herbs hanging from the rafters and weapons littered on every surface. Dishes were piled messily into a sink you'd cleaned only the day before.
Peeking into your apothecary room revealed nothing more than more clutter - armor and weapons stacked into chests you'd never seen before. Your alchemy table bore a lifetime's worth of dust and the shelves surrounding it were devastatingly bare.
Something was very wrong. Your footsteps echoed around the strange house when you hurried upstairs. Lydia's room was long empty, bedroll collecting dust in the corner of the empty chamber. Blood roared in your ears when you stared at the state of your bed chambers.
Unfamiliar blankets were strewn haphazardly across the bed. Pillows were stacked on one side, the other barren. Farkas' slippers stuck out near his bedside table. A sheet was draped over the case bearing your Amulets of Mara and your wardrobe had been shoved far out of place.
Terror chilled your blood when you approached the bed you'd slept in the night before. Something had gone very wrong. Your fingers dragged over the strange blankets as you tried to work out what it could be - had your presence in Sovngarde triggered some reaction in your absence?
Your books were gone. Your clothes folded and forgotten in an old trunk. Your leather armor hidden under heaps of heavy metal. Every bit of you seemed to be hidden and shoved away. There was no proof of your existence yet you'd only left a day before.
Head spinning, you sat down on the bed. Nothing made sense. Your home was no longer your home. Had you somehow returned to the wrong time? You'd hardly given any thought to your return, planning only for Alduin's demise.
"What the -" A voice cut through your thoughts and brought a new bout of anxiety. Strained ears heard the door shut and heavy footfalls through the house. Was this even your home? If you'd returned to the wrong time perhaps Farkas had sold the house. You could be trespassing.
"Hello?" A deep voice rumbled up the stairs. "I know someone's been in here. There's nothing much worth stealing, might as well come out."
Farkas.
That's his voice. Scrambling across the bedroom all anxiety was forgotten at the thought of seeing him. He'd make it alright. He'd explain everything. Your boots scraped over the wooden floor when you panted atop of the stairs, eyes narrowing to spot him through the dim light.
A scar his brow. His hair was lighter, tied back from his face in a way you'd never seen before. He shrugged an immense sword off his shoulder and left it on the new couch. When he finally looked up his eyes held dark circles, his familiar smile gone.
"Farkas." You breathed his name and his face tightened. "What happened?"
"Say that again." He gulped, taking one unsure step.
"Say what?"
"Say my name."
"Farkas." You'd say his name a thousand times. A grin broke out over his face and you launched down the stairs. Everything was so uncertain but he's there to catch you, drawing you into an embrace that hadn't changed. Farkas' strong arms crushed you to his body, tears soaking into his tunic when he finally spoke your name.
"I thought you were gone." He mumbled between heavy sobs, clutching you as if you were bound to disappear. "I thought I lost you."
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I am such a cliche bc I was like “omg what if the TLD got really badly injured in a fight and Farkas got so upset he turned into a werewolf and killed all the enemies and ate them🥺🥺”
“And then he gingerly lifted up TLD’s body and carried them out of the dungeon/bandit camp/cave and was whimpering sadly as they struggled to drink a health potion🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺”
#skyrim#tesblr#the elder scrolls#tes v skyrim#farkas#tes v#farkas x dragonborn#farkas x reader#skyrim werewolf
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Ok so this one a little different but I wanted to see what you can do with it
Can I request a yandere alduin x reborn Dragon Born reader x yandere playtonic pryox
So the reader was alduin mate and pyrax little sister ( i can not remember how to spell that Dragon name the one that on the throat of the world with the Gray beards) but during the war she was killed but she reborn as a dragon born and not only that but got married. And pyrax is torn on helping his sister and joining alduin.
And reader not happy with them and she married a Dragon Slayer
Blood in the Water (Yandere! Alduin x Reader x Platonic Yandere! Paarthurnax)
“We’ll never get free
Lamb to the slaughter
What you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water?
The price of your greed, is your son and your daughter
What you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water?”
- Blood // Water, granson
Paarthurnax knew you.
The dragon had always been told that he read too much into others, searching for things that weren’t there - trying to gain a better understanding of someone by peering into their soul. Well, he liked to believe he could.
But you were different, he knew you. From the moment you climbed his mountain, your very soul spoke to his; like a flicker of fire light after trudging through an endless snowstorm.
This must be a malicious plot, he told himself, remaining guarded with his icy gaze even as he longed to approach you with all the gentleness of the world. Perhaps the Greybeards had decided it was time for Paarthurnax to pay his dues, or the Blades had finally gotten to him… anything would be more plausible than her soul returning.
“Why have you intruded on my solitude, mortal?” He questioned harshly, your shocked and fearful gaze almost making him regret it.
Still, you were able to catch your bearings and face him - something most mortals would not do. “The Greybeards sent me. I am the Dragonborn.”
Ah… perhaps this was Akatosh’s way of punishing Paarthurnax for his misdeeds.
Although Akatosh often did not play by his own rules, there were usually only two ways for a Dragonborn to be birthed into existence: a dragon and a human breeding, or the soul of deceased dragon being reborn into a human.
He shouldn’t have been surprised, not when he really thought about it. Whilst it was unlikely for you to be reborn - what will millions of other dragons who could have been reincarnated - but out of every dragon he had ever met, of course it was you. Dragons could only be reborn because their souls were made of far sturdier stuff than mortals, the very substance refusing to dissipate. And you had the strongest soul of all.
Strong enough to put up with Alduin, after all.
Alduin, the very thought brought unrest to Paarthurnax’s stomach, his insides squirming at the idea of Alduin knowing of your return.
By all rights, Paarthurnax was supposed to help the Dragonborn - you - defeat Alduin and stop the dragons from once again taking over the world. Alduin and his subordinates would give Paarthurnax Oblivion, of course, fighting fang and claw to have the Dragonborn’s head on a pike. But the Dragonborn was a larger threat to most dragons than they were to the Dragonborn, very few having the ability to stand against them. With enough training, perhaps the Dragonborn even stood a chance at defeating Alduin, especially if they wanted to see another day.
However, if you really were her, well… that complicated everything.
Alduin had always ruled with an iron claw, leaving the mortals alive only out of necessity and sinister amusement. His tyranny was not reserved for mortals, either, even the dragons themselves fearing Alduin’s wrath. After all, if he grew tired of the world, he could simply destroy it.
But even Paarthurnax had feared Alduin after your death.
Alduin had always enjoyed ruling, conquering, entertaining the idea for centuries rather than destroying the world and allowing birth for a new one. But when you’d been killed, it was like the dragon stopped caring - as if any emotion aside rage had been beaten out of him. Alduin decided to destroy the world because his had been taken from him.
You, however, had always been kinder - far kinder than an average dragon. No one really knew why, perhaps it was because Paarthurnax and, eventually, Alduin had always shielded you from the world. As the World Eater’s mate, you weren’t expected to lift a claw.
It had been heartbreaking when you discovered just how much Alduin (and Paarthurnax, although he tried to forget that) terrorised the mortals. You just couldn’t understand why Alduin - your Alduin, who always showed you nothing but kindness - would inflict such horrors on those who could not fight back. That was the start of Paarthurnax’s guilt.
You begged Alduin to stop and, because it was you, he compromised - allowing the mortals to exist without being burned down at every move. But some of those mortals took Alduin’s mercy for weakness and formed the building blocks for the revolution.
A revolution where you had been killed.
Paarthurnax almost wanted to side with Alduin after watching you, one of the only dragons who gave a damn, be killed. But, in your dying breaths, you begged Paarthurnax not to fall with Alduin into vengeance. After all, why should all the mortals be blamed for the act of few?
For you, Paarthurnax helped the mortals and ceased the end of the world, dreading the day Alduin would return.
But now you and Alduin were both back and, for once, Paarthurnax had no idea what the outcome would be.
“Have you encountered the World Eater, Dovahkin?”
“I haven’t,” you replied, as he thought; if Alduin had found you before Paarthurnax, you’d never be allowed to stray from the World Eater’s grasp.
Paarthurnax sent you on a “quest” then, to “prove your worth and skill”. In reality, he needed time to think, to gather the thoughts racing through his mind and figure out what he planned to do. It was also to get you away from the throat of the world because Paarthurnax had a strong feeling he would be paid a visit from Alduin.
He was proven right when the black dragon landed on his mountain, quiet anger radiating from his scales.
“The word is true, then. You have returned,” Paarthurnax mused, trying his very best to mask the wariness that was etched in his veins. The ancient tongue felt good, like an old friend he hadn’t spoken to in centuries. He had missed having dragons to communicate with.
“Where is she?” Alduin demanded immediately, voice as commanding and ferocious as Paarthurnax remembered. He didn’t have the strongest thumm for nothing.
“I am unsure what you mean, brother.”
Alduin growled, a warning no doubt. “I am not in a gaming mood. Tell me where my mate is, Paarthurnax.”
“What would make you think she has returned?” Paarthurnax asked casually, the lie easily rolling off his tongue. “She died with the war.”
Paarthurnax knew he was poking a hungry, vengeful bear but, if it meant keeping Alduin off your trail, he would make that sacrifice.
“Cease your treacherous lies, her soul calls to mine. I can feel her very essence. If you do not reveal her presence to me, Skyrim shall burn.”
Well, Paarthurnax would lose no sleep over that. Not if it meant your well-being. You were far more precious than the whole world.
Eventually, Alduin left after his fire clashed against Paarthurnax’s, the throat of the world fortunately remaining upright. Now, Paathurnax just had to pray to Akatosh that you stayed far from Alduin’s reach.
——
Vilkas wrapped his arms around you as your back sunk into his strong chest, nuzzled in his warmth and the comfort of the thick blankets. He placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, making a smile grace your face - the crackling of the fire lulling you to sleep.
“You frightened me today,” he said gently, nose resting in your hair.
“How so?” You replied tiredly, eyes still shut.
“You went into that cave all by yourself and I though…” he sighed. “I thought I lost you.”
You turned your head to look at him then, an almost amused smile on your lips. “You know I can handle a dungeon, right?”
He should have known that, considering the many times you, he, and Farkas explored the deep crevices of Skyrim together. Fighting tooth and nail against the Silver Hand to bring safety and glory to the Companions.
Of course, that was a different life.
“I am allowed to worry about you,” he defended, almost pouting, wrapping his hand gently in your hair. “This Dragonborn stuff… it is not easy, or safe. I want you to be safe.”
You practically shrugged. “I still believe it was mistake.”
He sighed again, tired of already having this conversation a million times. “It was my no mistake, my love. You absorbed the dragon’s soul.”
“And you killed it.”
The Companions had been a home for both of you, especially Vilkas. But he had found a new home with you, one where he didn’t feel the need to constantly fight and kill. For you, he left the companions.
You’d tried to convince him to renounce his wolf form too, explaining that he did not need to live with the constant hunger and bloodlust. He said he would, one day, but he was scared to be vulnerable - especially when he’d left all he knew. You let the matter drop, giving him time to adjust.
You had been accepted into the Companion’s inner circle, given the opportunity to take the wolf form and transcend mortality.
It didn’t work.
Almost immediately, your body burned, forcing the blood from your lungs, coughing it up as if you were drowning. You had passed out and were sick for nearly a week, as if your body simply refused to change its form.
Vilkas had been in charge of nursing you back to health then, and the two of you quickly fell for each other.
At least you were finally given an explanation; the dragon in you denying any other form of blood or soul that would change you.
Regardless of what did or did not happen, Vilkas left the companions and, although he already had an abundance of money saved up (enough to let the two of you live comfortably for the rest of your lives), he became a hunter. Or, more specifically with what had happened to the world, a dragon hunter.
The return of dragons had been daunting for everyone, but not Vilkas. He saw people cowering in fear and found it in his heart to help them, even at the risk of his own life.
You were just there at the right place and right time (or wrong place, wrong time, depending on how you looked at it) and, suddenly, you were the Dragonborn. The person destined to stop the end of the world.
It should have been Vilkas - he was the one he wasn’t afraid of the beasts, who could slay them without so much as a bat of an eye. Perhaps you were strong - even compassionate in the right circumstances - but, selfishly, you did not want the weight of the world on your shoulders.
You did not want to have to face the World Eater.
Paarthurnax had been frightening enough, and he didn’t even want to kill you. How in the divine’s name were you supposed to defeat Alduin? Perhaps that was it - the divines had given up on this world, deciding to mock the chance of survival by throwing them a useless Dragonborn.
“It should have been you,” you often whispered to Vilkas, in the dark of the night when your false bravado left you and only the insecurities remained.
“I will be with you every step of the way,” he would always reply without fail, gently placing a kiss on your skin and holding you close.
You wished he hadn’t promised such a thing because, as you stood in the snow shivering to the bone with a ginormous black dragon flying above you, all you could think of was Vilkas’ safety.
Paarthurnax told you that the secret to defeating Alduin would lie within the Elder Scroll, which was located in the outskirts of Skyrim where no one dared to venture.
So how had Alduin found you? Was he not supposed to be eating the world?
Perhaps Alduin found you unassuming, weak even, because his fire was targeted solely at Vilkas, the nord panting from the constant dodges.
However, one thing you knew you were skilled at was archery.
Your hands shook from the cold and the fear coursing through you, but you did your very best to hold the bow steady, shutting one eye to gain a better perspective on where the arrow would it. You released the string, a flicker of pride running through when it hit its target.
Of course, that was snuffed out when Alduin’s furious red gaze shot to you.
Vilkas yelled out your name, warning you to move as the dragon approached you faster than you thought possible. In a flash, a claw closed around you and your world turned black.
——
Dragons mate for life.
Alduin always believed the sentiment to be stupid, preferring to mount and fuck whoever he deemed worthy. There was no need to risk his own convenience and concern for the sake of attachment.
But then there was you.
Paarthurnax had always had far too much mercy for a dragon, practically allowing his emotions to rule him. Even so, no one expected him to take a younger, abandoned dragon under his wing.
Without even being seen by most, you had become a common conversation topic - none of which was flattering. From what Alduin had heard, you were the runt of the litter, by all means. Abandoned for your inability to grow. Paarthurnax kept you shielded from the words, and even sharper teeth, of the dragon world.
It wasn't until about half a century later when Alduin first saw you - when, under Paarthurnax's mentorship, had you become fully fledged dovah. The spark was instantaneous, Alduin immediately filled with a possessiveness he had never before experienced.
You were his at first sight - nothing Paarthurnax or anyone else did would change that.
And you really were the most captivating creature Alduin had ever met; filled to the brim with life and excitement and curiosity. Perhaps he didn't show it very much but you held his beating heart in your claws, and he was willing to risk that so long as you stayed his. And you did - you were lovely, and extraordinary, and his.
Until you weren't.
Alduin was used to anger. He had felt and understood rage, the need for vengeance. But he never thought he'd experience sorrow - he had always mocked those who felt such a thing, claiming it was a weak emotion that a true dovah would never feel. But then you had been stolen him and his heart hurt.
Ruling had always satisfied him, enjoying every being bowing to him in fear and awe - his ability to do so was the only reason he never ate the world... until there was you, of course.
The world - or at least those who understood what being the World Eater entailed - took a breath of relief when he mated with you; finally the World Eater had something to tie him down, to make him want to keep the world turning.
But then you had been murdered by those mortal scum and Alduin decided that if he couldn't have you, the rest of the world wasn't permitted to live.
However, it seemed Paarthurnax never truly cared for you, disrespecting you and your memory by siding with the mortals and sending Alduin into a time loop.
When he first returned, Alduin was filled with rage, preparing himself to hunt Paarthurnax down and kill the traitor. But then he felt it - felt you. Your soul - as long as it had been - called to his, begging him to find you.
And find you he did, even if you were in the clutches of some mortal half-breed bastard.
It didn't matter; if the World Eater wanted something, he took it. Even if you were kicking and screaming.
----
I'm so sorry that took so long, and the abrupt ending. This was mostly just set up but I'm actually really interested in this concept so, don't worry, there's gonna be a part two!
Thanks for reading and I hope to see you there.
#yandere skyrim#skyrim#alduin#female mc#yandere#yandere paarthurnax#paarthurnax#platonic yandere#yandere x reader#romantic yandere#dragons#male yandere#dragonborn
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NSFW!!
Miraak fucking you with the mask on, hearing him grunt underneath it as his gloved hand wraps around your throat, he can't take it anymore as he watches you squirm and whimper.
#skyrim x reader#elder scrolls x reader#skyrim headcanon#skyrim scenarios#skyrim x dovahkiin#skyrim miraak x reader#miraak x reader#miraak x dragonborn
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My Tav is a Dragonborn which means they aren’t your usual Tav x Astarion reader (at least not in the fics I’ve read) so could you write Dragonborn! Tav being surprised Astarion fell for them at all considering they didn’t think they were Astarion’s type?
Dragonborns are sexy, send tweet
Rated M
A/N: sorry for the late reply. Been going through medical stuff. Hope to get back into the grove as i try to get better
Dragonborns are not often called beautiful in the context of sweet and lovely. They are seen as beast, vicious, beautiful when they are mighty and forceful as a storm. Or a dragon.
Astarion finding you attractive, his charm practiced and perfected to the point you almost believe him. You smile, fangs slightly showing as he goes on to tell you how much he wishes to reward you but uses that as an excuse to bed you. You sigh, this is sad to hear but you figure he just wants more blood and is pent up.
“There prepare yourself, elf.” That is your warning that you will couple with him but it will not be easy. Dragonborns are naturally dominant creatures like their dragon cousins. Vampire are dominant by their corrupt nature and gifted by dark forces to be seductive. You expect that night to be more than he can handle.
If you had known this high elf, a broken man, a vampire enslaved by the shadows, would be your life partner— You would have laughed.
Astarion is… Well, he is quite feeble looking. A thin man, pale skin with red eyes, and a mouth with no muzzle to stop him from speaking his mind. Even if that said mind was owned by his master.
Thin as paper. Easily can be swept away, your father would say.
Astarion physically looks like nothing much to you at first. It is his core that keeps you by his side. A bond forged by two creatures who understand they could never be loved like others.
“Yes, my sweet?”
Pet names, soft kisses, and he became more than you saw of him at first.
He is a rogue, a charlatan, and a man who fought his fate. A vampire who broke the cycle. You held him close, he listened to your odd beating heart, and you promised to stay by him no matter what.
Loyalty and love.
He admitted to using you, admitted to being slightly afraid of you, but in the end he loves and found you are so much more than scales and fangs.
You are perfect. You are you and he loves you for it. Even when you roar in battle, or when you sunbathe, and especially when your claws bite into his skin.
#baldur's gate 3#anon ask#reader insert#astarion#astarion x you#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x mc#dragonborn!tav
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HHNNGGGGGGG MORE NEW ENDINGS LETS GO!!!
Giving me ideas for some Durge x Tav!Reader content
#bg3#bg3 bhaalspawn#bhaal#durge#durge x reader#the dark urge#baldurs gate 3#durge dragonborn#the dark urge x reader#default Durge#hhnnggggg
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Dark Knowledge: Part Four
Miraak x Hermaeus Mora x Female Dragonborn Reader
Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical violence, canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes
Word Count: 6.2k
A/N: Part Four of Dark Knowledge (for @childofyuggoth)
The First Dragonborn and the Last Dragonborn meet. Miraak makes an offer.
Part Three
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dark knowledge masterlist
Is this what falling feels like?
You thought you knew.
How many times have you slid down the side of a mountain or purposefully launched yourself over a wall you believed was much shorter than what it turned out to be?
Too many times to count, and every time it happened you believed you were falling. But those instances are nothing compared to this.
This is just air. A hover before the descent. Endless amounts of space with nothing to grab on to. You are falling. Fast—so fast it seems impossible—toward the inky water below.
What were you expecting when you tore at the fleshy wall of your cage? What did you think would happen when you dug your nails in, scratch scratch scratching until the gelatinous hole grew wide enough to fit through?
Before you, beyond your endless air, are towering spires and connecting bridges. There are arches made of books and so many eyes embedded into the wall of the tower you hurtle past. Are they Hermaeus Mora’s eyes? Is he watching you fall? Does he care or is this all amusing to him? A game?
Perhaps the eyes are not his. Perhaps they belong to no one in particular. Just empty pupils and empty irises that are simple decoration. Hermaeus Mora appears to create with purpose, but you don’t truly know him. How can a mortal, even one like you, hope to understand a Daedric Prince?
You’re a complete fool. An idiot.
Those were not bars made of black metal. They shifted under your weight. Wiggled. Bent outwards. Unfurled. There is no victory of escape. No reward for tearing your nails into the wall or using your Thu’um to weaken it.
The Seekers knew, didn’t they? They knew that you were clawing toward your death. That is what this fall is. A precursor. A bridge. The height of the song that swells with the music before the Bard plays the final cord.
Your hands extend outward. Seeking. You put all your efforts into reaching for the monolith beside you. Distantly, you hear those Seekers shrieking. They’re likely signaling others, or maybe announcing your imminent death.
All this falling, that feels so incredibly fast, is also so terrifyingly dull. You’ve already accepted the outcome. You already know what awaits you in the dark water. There is no surprise. Your future—your fate—reaches toward you in eagerness.
Black tentacles burst from the water, completely extended in your direction, vibrating with the anticipation of your falling body. You should have listened to Teldryn. You should have never opened the book. You should have taken it to Master Neloth as you originally intended.
What a mess you’ve made.
The largest and longest of the tentacles greet you with a brush of their slimy appendages. You start to curl into a ball, turning your face away from them and upward toward the sickly green sky. Apocrypha’s illness of an atmosphere roils. Ripples.
But as you curl into yourself in an attempt to protect your head, a winged shadow passes above you.
There is a roar, and it is so loud it shakes your bones and teeth.
The shadow returns and with it comes a dragon’s claw.
The tentacles that pull at you, that tug on your limbs and hair fall away, surrendering to the massive silvery blue beast that catches you before you strike the water. Your waist is completely enclosed in its great fist, as are your arms which are crossed over your chest.
The dragon soars upward, turns sharply, trumpets one more time before threading through the massive towering spires that dot the landscape.
It is a beautiful creature. Unique. Its head is more like that of a snake’s than of the dragons you’re used to. There is also a clear underbite as if the dragon’s jaw is too large for its head. The dragon’s scales are smoother and finer. Its hide shimmers, nearly iridescent.
You twist a bit in the dragon’s grasp. There isn’t much room, but there is enough for you to look out upon the lands of Hermaeus Mora.
The realm of a Daedric Lord is vast, and truly you understand just how large Apocrypha is as the dragon carries you above the landscape. Heights have never bothered you, but your head is spinning, swirling with dizziness. How long has it been since you’ve last eaten? Since you’ve rested properly?
Everything is starting to catch up. Everything is rushing forward, ready to slam into you like a giant’s club. You want to resist the tug of exhaustion. The dragon’s claw is a cocoon of safety, and it lulls you into sleepiness. You desperately fight it, but there is no denying what your body craves. It needs the nothingness of sleep absent of dreaming.
When you awaken, it is because the dragon shifts in the sky. It descends toward a towering structure amongst a maze of many. The largest of the bunch has a platform. It isn’t large enough to hold the dragon but it is big enough for the beast to gently lay your body down on its slightly rocky surface.
It takes flight yet again, circling overhead before retreating into the distance. You watch it go, not knowing if this place will be a refuge or a new hell.
Slowly, you push up from the platform, observing your surroundings. The tower is like that of any other across Apocrypha, and beyond it, the labyrinth is a swirling mass of buildings and stairways. It’s clearly a warning to keep away, but to keep away what? People don’t casually find themselves in Apocrypha. What’s the point of the maze?
Standing on shaky legs, you slowly stride from the platform to the interior space, passing under a low archway that leads into the tower.
It’s…a laboratory? No—not quite. A study? That doesn’t seem correct either. It is a home, but more like someone’s attempt at making something strange into something familiar. On the surface, it is a human space made within the horror of Hermaeus Mora’s realm.
Everything around you appears to have been touched by Hermaeus Mora’s influence. To your right is a massive cutout in the black stone of the tower. Within the cutout is a large bed covered in dark sheets that look exactly like the dark waters of Apocrypha. There are furs as well, and you’re not sure if they’re from creatures of the mortal realm, or from this one. The rest of the space consists of stacks and stacks of books, some of which appear beyond saving.
To the left is a stone desk covered in scrolls and loose pieces of parchment as well as quills and ink vials. There is an alchemist workbench as well as an enchantment area. All the soul gems are black, and all the vials on the shelves are full. There are many ingredients on the shelves that you recognize, and a good many you don’t.
Parts of the space remind you of your own home, but something about it feels…off, as if Mora’s influence is wrapped around every item. In your mind, you envision the large Daedric Lord hovering in the air, his mass of tentacles sliding over and around everything yet invisible to the human eye. You sense someone watching you, but as you observe the large space, you notice no one inspecting you from the shadows.
You touch nothing. You know better than to poke around with things you’re not familiar with. There could be any number of unwanted surprises hiding here, and the last thing you want to do is trigger something on accident. Instead, you peer at everything, keeping a safe distant between whoever this stuff belongs to and you.
Apocrypha wants to consume you. It wants to suck the flesh from your bones and then break them open to slurp up the marrow. This realm desires to keep you in its clutches, to possess you and your knowledge, to chew on your brain until you become one with the Daedric Lord. Even here, in this new environment, the tacky pull of Mora’s influence gnaws at the back of your mind. You shiver, wiggling your shoulders in response as if Hermaeus Mora’s tentacles lay against you like a cloak.
So far, Hermaeus Mora has been unsuccessful in drawing you in. And you plan on keeping it that way.
Glancing around the large interior space, there is no sign of the owner. It is entirely quiet. You observe the space uninterrupted. What you really need is a change of clothes. This…sack you were put in does nothing to protect you. It’s also entirely too revealing. You want it gone and to replace it with your armor.
But that might be impossible. Wherever you are, you’re likely far away from your gear. The next step is figuring out what is available to you in this moment. There has to be something useful in this place for you to take, especially a change of clothes. You’ll even take a blanket off the bed. It’s certainly better than what you’re wearing now.
A movement in one of the many vials catches your eye. You pause, and then turn toward the flickering movement. Something is wiggling around in the glass. Something dark and slimy and wet. Something with tentacles. Something with cloudy eyes.
“Does my collection interest you?”
You drop into a crouch, snagging a knife off the nearby table. You flip the handle around and brandish the knife like any blade. It’s dull, which is disappointing, but it’s better than having nothing. Anything can be a weapon in the right hands.
From the dark recesses of the room comes a specter. At first, it is just spots of color. Then those spots elongate, extending outward into points, glowing brightly and revealing a humanoid figure.
Whoever this is, they wear a mask. It’s golden. Shiny. The eyeholes are thin slits and the top of the mask curves upward at four separate points. The bottom half of the mask look like tentacles. It reminds you of the Seekers and their faces. Their robes are a deep greenish brown accented in gold embellishments around and down the arms, at the waist, and shoulders. The colorful glow comes from an aura around the upper half of the body. It’s dragon-like in appearance.
They take one powerful step forward and you sink closer to the floor. With the distance, there is still a thickness in the air, as if their mere presence is enough to change it. It sits heavy on your chest, pushing you down toward the floor.
The stranger takes another step toward you. Instinct ignites, tells you to strike first.
You throw the knife.
You’re good with blades, especially after spending time with some members of the Thieves Guild. But you’re tired. Exhausted. Bone-weary. Your aim is shit, and this intruder easily bats the knife to the side.
“In my own home.” The stranger is a man, and you are in his home. “How rude,” he croons. He doesn’t even sound upset, just slightly irritated as if the thrown knife is an inconvenience.
He takes another step in your direction. More and more of his form comes into clearer focus as he nears. He is bright and bold, and the power that radiates off him is like an unrelenting hand around the throat. It’s so concentrated in the air you could choke on it.
But you don’t plan on staying. You’ll make for the maze. That has to be better than being stuck in here with him.
You throw yourself out from behind the table and sprint for the platform. Your legs burn and your chest heaves, but you’re determined, eager to break free and go about this on your own terms.
As you approach the archway, the dragon from before lands on the platform. It starts to slide a bit, but it’s smart, using its massive claws to hook itself onto the wall of the tower. It’s serpentine head swivels toward you, and then it roars.
It is earth-shattering and you fall to your knees in pain. The world vibrates around you and everything spins. The floor is cold beneath your hands and is hard against your knees.
You are so tired, and you hate it. It makes you weak. It keeps you at the mercy of others.
The serpentine dragon shakes as if it were a dog removing water from its fur. Its giant head turns in the direction of the glowing man. “Miraak. Zu’u drun ek.”
Miraak.
Hermaeus Mora’s servant.
The man whose influence corrupted many minds on the island of Solstheim. The man whose power corrupted the stones, the same stones you purged upon request of Storn Crag-Strider. His followers attacked you in Riverwood, tried to slit your throat and claim your death in his name.
Mora called Miraak “Dragonborn”, and spoke of his desire to return to the mortal realm to conquer it, and in turn, Hermaeus Mora’s influence would spread. But the Daedric Prince also mentioned Miraak’s desire to break away from Mora’s control. That he was “restless” here.
This is the reason you are here in the first place. You and Teldryn didn’t venture into Miraak’s temple because it was too heavily guarded. The Black Book was the option you went with, and instead of finding direct answers, it has handed you over to the person you’re seeking information about.
How…convenient.
You want to laugh but you might sound mad.
“You serve me well, Sahrotaar.” Miraak’s glowing brilliance begins to fade, and then it slowly melts away from his body, disappearing into the air. “Go. When you hear your voice on the wind, know that it is me.”
Sahrotaar shifts, his massive head turning toward you one more time before he pushes off and disappears into the sky. Miraak watches him go, and then slowly twists in your direction. Now that the glowing aura around him is gone, you can see Miraak more clearly than before.
While his robes appear a bit aged, they’re in good repair. Miraak looks regal, almost kingly, which is so odd in a place like Apocrypha. Everything drips with Mora’s influence, and while you see that influence in Miraak’s mask, everything else about him seems detached from Hermaeus Mora’s touch.
Miraak fits right in, and yet is very much out of place.
“You are Dragonborn.” Miraak’s voice almost echoes as if there are two of him speaking. “I can feel it.”
Exhaustion might be setting in, but you’re feeling sharp. Your tongue is a blade and your words are the sting of steel. “How perceptive,” you bite, trying your best to slowly put some greater distance between you and Miraak.
“And yet,” he pauses, masked head tilting slightly to the side, “you do not understand just how much power a Dragonborn can wield.”
You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “And you do?”
“I know things that the Greybeards will never teach you.” Miraak starts to walk toward you again. It’s leisurely, as if he’s not scared of you at all.
And why would he be? You are disheveled. A mess.
“I’m not looking for a teacher,” you snap, slipping as you try to stand.
Miraak is so close, and you’re desperate to escape him. That is what your survival hinges on. Escape. You have no chance if you try to take him on like this. It will not be a fair fight. And you will lose.
Throwing yourself to the right, you reach for another knife. It’s just as dull as the other one, but you don’t care. You’ll use your nails and teeth if you must in your attempt to flee him.
Miraak dives toward you, and you swing at him. He leans back, the edge of the knife scraping against his mask as he moves out of the way. You try again, and this time, you know your exhaustion is truly sneaking up on you. Your reaction time is poor and Miraak grabs your wrist out of the air.
He twists and pain shoots up your arm. You release the blade with a strangled cry. Pinning your arm behind you, Miraak thrusts you toward the floor, your cheek smashing into the cold rock as he pushes you against it. When you kick out at him, Miraak sits on your legs, his weight concentrated on your upper thighs.
You try to buck him off, but only end up rubbing up against him. The sack you’re wearing rides up, dangerously close to exposing yourself to him.
Miraak laughs softly and bends forward, the mask incredibly close to your face. “An enticing offer. But you are…filthy.”
“I hope Mora chokes you with a tentacle,” you growl, wiggling some more.
“I suspect you’ve already choked on one.”
You throw your elbow back but Miraak pushes you right back down against the floor.
“Behave,” he purrs. “I don’t intent to harm you.”
“Liar,” you growl, the air from your lungs pushing some of the hair off your face as you speak.
Miraak shifts his weight on your legs. “What have I done to illicit such anger from you?”
Is he serious? Has he completely forgotten that he sent his worshipers after you?
“Your cultists attacked me,” you say through clenched teeth.
“They were simply trying to subdue you.”
“They tried to kill me. One of them even had a note. It said that whoever struck the killing blow would earn your favor.”
Miraak stiffens. “That is most unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?” you laugh, bitterness in your tone.
“That was not my instruction.”
Hermaeus Mora’s words come creeping back to you.
I see why Miraak’s devotees were after you. They sought to kill you, which is such a shame since Miraak only wants you brought to him.
“What do you want from me?” you murmur.
Miraak is silent for a moment before he speaks. “If I release you, will you try to stab me?”
You pause, considering it until Miraak begins to fidget in irritation. “No promises,” you finally answer.
His chuckle is low and soft. “I value your honesty.” Miraak removes his weight from your legs and releases your wrists.
You push up onto your knees and glance up at him from your position on the floor. Miraak towers over you, the two of you observing each other in silence. His chest rises and then falls with each breath, but he makes no other move. It’s a bit unnerving, and you question what it is he’s thinking about behind that golden mask.
There is a break in the silence. A flash of movement. It is Miraak’s gloved hand. He offers it to you, palm upward.
You glance it. Then back at his mask. Then back to the hand.
What options do you have? Where will you be if you refuse him? It is unlikely that Miraak will so easily let you go. You don’t trust him, but you trust Hermaeus Mora even less.
With a deep frown, you slide your hand into his. Through the glove, you feel his warmth. That heat is human, and it is an oddly comforting thing after so much strangeness.
Miraak helps you to your feet. Your legs wobble, exhausting swinging its angry head again. Everything aches. It sits down in your bones, the weight of it like boulders. Your stomach growls loudly and you want to cringe from the volume.
Miraak still clutches your hand. You don’t hate it, but it does make you uncomfortable. Yanking your hand away, you drop your arm to the side, hiding the fingers as they curl to form a fist.
“You can bathe through there.” Miraak indicates the direction with a light tilt of his mask. “You need it.”
You snort. “Now you’re the one being rude.”
Miraak crosses his arms but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge you’ve said anything at all. Giving him your best scowl, you turn on your heel in the direction he indicated. There is a deep cut in the wall, one that cannot be seen straight on. You pause right at the opening, and turn back toward Miraak.
He’s walking away in the opposite direction. Your gaze darts to the arch and platform, to the maze beyond the tower. If you time it right, you might be able to slip away from him, to enter the maze and lose him.
As you take a single step toward freedom, and Miraak’s voice rings out around the room. “Don’t even consider it.” You freeze, one hand firmly planted on the wall, every muscle tense. “You cannot flee from me, Dragonborn. I would find you.”
“Bastard,” you whisper, and Miraak turns in your direction as if he heard you.
Slipping inside the opening in the wall, you enter a small, private washroom. In the middle is a tub made from the same black stone as the rest of the tower. There is a drain in the bottom but no indication of how to fill it.
More importantly, is there water on Apocrypha? There is the dark water you plummeted toward, but is there actual water? The kind you drink or bathe with? It seems impossible, and yet there are hundreds if not thousands of Hermaeus Mora’s most devoted followers who haunt his halls, preparing his Black Books.
Do they eat? Do they hydrate? Or are they sustained on Mora’s influence alone? The very idea makes your skin crawl.
You’re about to back out of the room when a Seeker floats in. Its mandibles flare in agitation, and you gasp, stumbling into the wall as you move out of the way. The Seeker doesn’t even give you a second glance. In its four hands the Seeker clutches four buckets of water. Slowly, it empties each one into the tub before disappearing out the way it came.
Seekers are servants of Mora…aren’t they?
You follow it out and watch as it floats to a well-like structure. It’s not exactly a kitchen but there is a small fire pit near it. The Seeker begins filling the buckets and you take this time to glance at the rest of the room. Next to Miraak is another Seeker. A third floats near the bookshelves. A fourth slowly ascends the stairs that leads to another space out of sight.
“What is this?” You gesture at the Seeker fetching your water.
Miraak quickly turns in your direction, his back straightening. “Why are you still wearing those rags?”
You blink, stunned that he completely stepped around your question to ask one of his own. The Seekers floats toward you and you step to the side.
You wave your arm in the creature’s direction, and repeat your question. “What is this?”
“That is a Seeker,” replies Miraak flatly.
“I know what it is,” you retort. “But what is it doing here?”
“It serves me.” Miraak’s arm extends to the rest of the room. “They all serve me.”
You shake your head. “They serve Hermaeus Mora.”
Miraak rolls up the scroll before him and tosses it onto a nearby pile. “They did serve him. And now they attend to my every command.”
The Seeker that floats next to Miraak trills. Miraak glances at it before returning his attention back to you. Even though his features are hidden behind the mask, you feel his gaze roaming up and down your body. You immediately cross your arms over your breasts.
Miraak’s answer gives you no comfort.
“Is that all?” he asks, almost bored.
You glance away from him and back at the opening in the wall. The Seeker emerges, carrying empty buckets. You’re too tired for this. Not liking his answer but accepting it nonetheless, you head back into the small washroom.
You stare into the water in the tub, and keep staring until the Seeker returns, emptying the buckets. The tub is full, and the Seeker gives a little nod of the head before it dismisses itself. Stepping up to the tub, you hesitantly dip your hand into the clear water.
It is cool, and the temperature sends a little shiver up your arm. While you’d prefer it warm, you’ll take anything at this point. You’re coated in grime and even a bit of slime. There are still some crusty bits on your face from when the Cipher removed the paste they slathered over your eyes.
Glancing over your shoulder, you check to make sure no one has entered uninvited. There is no one there. You are alone.
Slowly, you slide one arm and then the other out of the worn rags. It falls to the floor, pools at your feet. You take one step toward the tub. The moment you begin to lift your leg, an arm slides along your back and around your waist.
The touch is so surprising that you shriek and then lash out. The side of your fist hits Miraak in the middle of his mask. He makes a humph sound and draws backward from the blow.
With your hand still raised in alarm, you stare at him in disbelief. Then you realize how intimate the placement of his hand is. That disbelief quickly turns to anger.
“What the hell are you—”
Miraak lifts his hand and flames erupt above his palm. The sudden fire snaps your mouth shut. He hasn’t released your waist, and with the mask, you’re not sure if he’s staring at your face or the rest of you.
His attention shifts to the tub and you take this opportunity to hook your toes under the sack and bring it up enough to snag it. You immediately hold it against your body, clutching it like a shield as the flames in Miraak’s hand vibrate and shift, swirling and then extending as he begins to heat the water in the tub.
You watch in fasciation as the water ripples and then starts to steam. Before it comes to a simmer, Miraak abruptly cuts the flame. He reaches into his robes with his free hand, and from it he retrieves several bundles of lavender.
Miraak tosses them into the tub, and only then does he step away from you.
The gesture of heating the water and throwing in the lavender is…odd. You hate that you like it. But it’s too human. Too kind. Too intimate. Isn’t this man supposed to be your enemy? Isn’t he trying to take over Solstheim and the rest of Tamriel? Does he not see you as a threat to all his carefully laid plans?
“Are you going to join me, too?” you ask, irritating slipping in your tone.
Miraak pauses at the opening in the wall. “Your stink is nauseating.” He disappears, leaving you open-mouthed. Shocked. Fuming.
Growling, you throw your poor excuse for clothes on the ground and step into the tub. The water is perfectly warm and you instantly melt into it, sinking down down down until your head is under the water. When you come up for air, your eyes are closed and you’re smiling. You push your hair back out of your face and breathe deep, reveling in the comforting warmth of the water.
As you open your eyes, a shadow takes form in front of you. At first, you’re confused, and then you quickly realize that it’s Miraak. The entire upper half of your body is on full display, laid bare before his gaze.
You cover your chest and sink into the water until only your head bobs on the surface. Frowning, you stare him down as a he places a chair in front of the tub. He sinks into it, reclining casually, and then tosses a bar of soap at you from one of his pockets.
Snatching it out of the air, you bring it to eye-level. You sniff it, and smell nothing.
“I didn’t poison the soap,” Miraak deadpans. “If I wanted you dead—”
“If you want on my good side, I prefer compliments. Not an insult to my intelligence,” you interrupt, wetting the bar of soap and lathering it between your hands.
Miraak doesn’t finish his sentence. He leans back in his chair, watching as you start to move the suds over your arms.
“Please leave. You’re making me uncomfortable,” you say. Miraak doesn’t move. He just sits there. You drop your arm into the water to rinse it off. “Think I’ll run? Is that why you’re sitting there watching a naked woman bathe herself?”
“Yes,” he replies, almost instantly.
“You are unbelievable,” you mutter, starting to work on your other arm.
“You’ve consumed dragon souls,” states Miraak, completely changing the subject.
You pause in your lathering and glance at him. “You’re just like Hermaeus Mora. All this knowledge and yet everything that comes out of your mouth is incredibly dull.”
Miraak moves as if in a silent laugh. You roll your eyes and return to scrubbing your arms.
“Do I amuse you?” you ask, inspecting the undersides of your nails.
“You bite,” replies Miraak. “And teeth are useful.”
You’re not sure if that’s a compliment or a threat.
He takes a deep, audible breath and shifts in the chair, lifting his hips as he adjusts. You keep your gaze firmly on your nails as if that one subtle movement didn’t stir something in your belly.
“Do you ever wonder if it hurts?” he asks, almost absently, like he’s not really expecting you to answer the question.
“Do I ever wonder if what hurts?” you hesitantly reply.
“To have one’s soul ripped out. Do you think the dragon’s feel it? Do you think they understand what’s happening to them?”
The soap almost slips from your hand. Miraak sounds pensive, almost sad. “We are not dragons,” you answer softly.
Miraak nods. “You’re right. We’re not. Because we’re better than them.”
There it is. Arrogance. Now you feel it. Now you understand a bit of what Hermaeus Mora hinted at. That overwhelming heaviness is back. Miraak’s power is potent. It crackles in the air. Sizzles on your tongue.
His gloved hand taps against the arm of the chair. “When the dragons ruled over mortals, I served as a dragon priest on Solstheim. That was my purpose for many years.” Miraak’s golden mask is turned away from you as if he’s recalling an old memory. “During that time, I came to possess one of Hermaeus Mora’s Black Books.”
Miraak stops tapping the arm of the chair. His hand forms a fist. “He taught me many things. A great many powerful things. One of these things was a dragon shout capable of bending dragons to my will.”
The pause afterward stretches, and you decide to fill the gap, to play along. He is revealing information. Pieces of his history. Why he’s doing so is a bit of a mystery, but you also know that if you play this right, you might gain something that will give you an upper hand on him.
“And what did you do with that knowledge?”
Miraak’s mask swivels in your direction. “Knowledge like that was forbidden. I was a dragon priest serving my dragon masters. To use power like that against them was unthinkable.”
You know where this is heading. “Yet you did it anyway?”
“I betrayed them,” states Miraak. “I used that shout and my power as Dragonborn to devour their souls. With each soul I consumed, I became more powerful. I terrified our dragon overlords. I threatened the power the dragon priests possessed.”
You move to the edge of the tub. Placing the soap on the ledge, you cross your arms over the lip of the tub, you give Miraak your full attention. Men are all the same in the end, and it is clear that Miraak is just that. A man.
His chest rises and falls rapidly. “During the Dragon War, I was…propositioned. Hakon One-Eye, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, and Felldir the Old all pleaded with me to use my power as Dragonborn to assist them in defeating Aludin. But I refused them. I attempted my own rebellion against the dragons instead.”
“I suspect that did not go well for you?”
“No,” he admits. “I was unsuccessful. And because of my betrayal, the dragons razed my temple on Solstheim.”
“I’ve seen your temple,” you say. “It’s something to behold.” That much is true. Those words are not lies. You and Teldryn were both impressed with how large the structure was on the outside, and the two of you discussed at length just how massive the temple must be on the inside.
“You also interrupted my progress on Solstheim.”
“Yes,” you say slowly, sinking into the tub a bit. “I did.” He stares at you a long moment before you decide to bridge the gap. “You didn’t tell me what happened. After your temple was razed.”
Miraak glances away again. “There are two stories that are told. The first is that a fellow dragon priest named Vahlok became my jailor. Restraining me to Solstheim. The other story is that when Vahlok was about to kill me, Hermaeus Mora stepped in and saved me, transporting me here, to the realm of Apocrypha.”
You laugh and Miraak’s head snaps in your direction. “What?” he asks, clearly flustered.
“It’s obvious that the correct story is the second one.”
“Is it?” replies Miraak, a bit of amusement leaking into his tone.
“Is it not?”
He shrugs and you only shake your head, returning to your soap, this time lathering it into your hair.
“So if Hermaeus Mora stepped in to save you, what have you done all this time?”
Miraak shrugs. “I’ve not been idle.”
“Clearly,” you snort.
Miraak sighs. “I’ve devoured many dragons. Far more than you have I suspect.”
“And that makes you better than me?”
“It makes me more powerful. But you are Dragonborn. You are the only one who I can consider my equal.”
The pieces are falling into place. What was it that the Greybeards told you all that time ago when you first ventured up the mountain? They told you that there is only ever one Dragonborn at a time.
But here you are. And here is Miraak.
The two of you. Together.
You swallow, and your salvia sticks in your throat. “You crave power. Why would you ever see me as an equal?”
“It is foretold that the Last Dragonborn will be my freedom. For so many years I believed it involved your death. But I was wrong.” He leans forward in the chair. “Hermaeus Mora does not lie, but he does twist the truth until you believe that up is down and down is up. He likes control, and I am a thing to collect. It’s what he wants from you, too.”
You shake your head. “You don’t know what Hermaeus Mora wants from me.”
“Beware, Dragonborn. Hermaeus Mora will betray you as he has me.”
“I am not Mora’s puppet. Nor will I be yours.”
“We are the First and the Last. We are the beginning and the end. I am the first blood drawn and you are the killing blow. We are bound by fate. We are inevitable.”
You don’t like where this is going. All this talk of fate is pulling at your nerves. Hermaeus Mora said fate you brought you to him, and now Miraak says the same. But Teldryn told you different before you opened the Black Book. He insisted that the woes of Tamriel are not yours to fix. That your life is your own.
You grip the bar of soap hard enough that your nails begin to sink in. “And yet, you did not slay Alduin.”
“And you have?” counters Miraak.
“Not yet,” you mutter.
“Alduin would not face me because he knew I would defeat him. But the two of us? Together? We could do it. Easily.”
You’re beyond clean now, but Miraak goes too far. He wanted you brought to him so that he can manipulate you into serving with me? To help him…what? Conquer Solstheim? Skyrim? All of Tamriel? Would that even be enough for him, or will Miraak demand more, dragging you along with him in his lust for power?
“You presume much, Miraak. What makes you think I’ll join you?”
Miraak stands from the chair and walks to the edge of the tub. He grabs the back of your neck, and lifts you slightly out of the water. Leaning in, the golden mask is all you can see.
“Do you not feel this? We are tethered. Either we fight it and end up fighting each other. Or you join me.”
As quickly as he grabs you, Miraak releases you, and you fall back into the water, your arms wrapping around your torso protectively. He stares at you behind the mask, and then turns, disappearing from view.
The water has grown cold.
The bundles of lavender have unraveled. Wilted.
You sink further into the water, watching as a lavender stem floats by. The purple petals are dark. Almost black.
You’re not in a physical cage. There are no bars. No restraints. But you are not free with Miraak. He demands an answer, and there is only one he is expecting.
But it’s not the one you want to give.
taglist:
@glassgulls @km-ffluv @singleteapot @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @wrathofcats @ninman82
#miraak fic#miraak x dragonborn#miraak skyrim#miraak fanfic#miraak#miraak fanfiction#miraak x ldb#miraak x reader#miraak x female reader#miraak x you#miraak x fem!reader#miraak x f!reader#miraak smut#herma mora#hermaeus mora#hermaeus mora x dragonborn#hermaeus mora fanfic#hermaeus mora smut#hermaeus mora x reader#hermaeus mora fanfiction#skyrim fanfiction#skyrim smut#skyrim fic#skyrim fanfic#the elder scrolls fic#the elder scrolls smut#the elder scrolls fanfic#the elder scrolls fanfiction#the elder scrolls#tentacle monster
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*both Khash and Y/N are sick*
Xelzaz: DRINK THE MEDICINE
Khash: I'D RATHER EAT MY OWN THROW UP
Xelzaz: IT'LL HELP YOU GET BETTER
Khash: I'LL GET BETTER USING MY DUMBASS ENERGY
Xelzaz: OH MY GOD JUST DRINK IT
Khash: SAY NO TO DRUGS KIDS
Gore: Y/N, can you please take your medicine?
Y/N: sure
Xelzaz: WHY DO YOU GET THE GOOD ONE???
#skyrim#skyrim gore#gore skyrim#skyrim xelzaz#skyrim khash#skyrim incorrect quotes#last dragonborn#skyrim x reader
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Heart-Broken (Part 2)
Monster Pairing: Male!Orc x Female!Reader x Male!DragonBorn
Notes: No real warnings here, just a little continuation on the angsty breakup story. Enjoy!
Part 1
This story was first published as a Commission but was continued on Patreon! Support me there and get early access to your favorite stories before they're posted to the public.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coffee in each hand, you used your hip to push open the door to your boss’ office.
You squinted into the dark room, stalling for a moment to let your eyes adjust to the sudden disappearance of light. The blinds were shut tight and you could barely make out the desk and few chairs in front of it. A lump lay sprawled over the desk's surface. Curled spikes prodded from the dark shape with little chains hanging from the silhouette. It said nothing as you entered the dark room.
“Rough night?” You asked. Placing down one of your coffees beside the lump. The same lump that grumbled and shifted so a clawed hand lazily slapped around the desk until it found the hot mug.
“I’m a homewrecker.” Lu mumbled. An almost sorrowful tone filling his tone.
You threw open the blinds. Bathing the room in sunlight as you answered.
“How are you a homewrecker?” You asked. Ignoring the pained complaints from the DragonBorn as he hid his eyes under a pair of heavily tinted sunglasses.
“Remember that girl I told you about,” Lu asked, leaning back in his overly plush office chair to sip his coffee. “Well, apparently…she has a fiance…”
You plopped down in one of the chairs across from Lu and arched an eyebrow. Waiting for him to continue. “I was so in love, (y/n). She was everything I wanted in a girl.”
“Her and the last four girls.” You said under your breath, behind your mug as you sipped your coffee.
Lu either didn’t hear it, or was too lost in his rant to comment. “We met again last night but she popped out that little nugget of information. Saying that her fiance was getting suspicious and she has to call it off.” Lu wiped a heavy hand down his long snout. The trinkets on his horns were disheveled and poorly placed. And the usual charming suit was wrinkled with a matching tie that hung loosely around his neck.
You were used to coming in here and seeing Lu in some sort of state because of a girl. Your last few months of friendship hardened you just enough to feel not much pity for him.
True, it was sad to see such a good man constantly ripped apart by horrible women, but Lu wasn’t exactly learning from his past experiences.
Any girl that showed him an inch of kindness and attention, and he was gone.
A puppy at the heels of its new owner.
You were just there to pat him on the back and make sure he drank water and nibbled on something until he got over it.
“Did you eat this morning?” You asked. And Lu nodded.
“A bagel with cream cheese…alot of cream cheese.”
You let him have that. At least something was in his stomach.
“At least this time it wasn’t you being too cuddly or something stupid.” You commented. Remembering the last break up had you in a spiral of anger. Lu was the sweetest guy you knew. Even though the two of you weren’t in any sort of relationship, he brought you flowers on occasions and sometimes little trinkets were left on your desk after you came back from lunch.
He was thoughtful and kind. Just an all round loving man.
But the last girl hated it. Said he had been too overbearing, and embarrassing her with how much PDA he showed.
When Lu told you this, you almost stalked her on Facebook just to find out if you could…visit her and give her a piece of your mind. But that was illegal. And Lu had his confidence shattered so harshly that you had no time to make visits.
Building Lu up from that low blow took weeks. Until the new flame fanned through and he was back to his normal self.
Lu smiled that lopsided grin that told you he wasn’t in any mood to laugh, but found your words somewhat humorous.
“Yeah, I guess it is better that it's not my fault this time.” His talons tapped the side of his mug for a moment before he sighed. “I’m really stupid aren’t I?”
You laughed and shook your head, reaching across the desk to pat his hand affectionately. “I think you’re just really unlucky. How many women live in this city? And every one you choose is a bitch? I guess you have to dig through the dirt to find gold, right?”
Another heavy sigh came from Lu as he smoothed down the front of his shirt. It was a nice black button up with a green tie that matched his scales.
You spotted a small stain on the left side of the shirt, but the black material hid it well. He glanced at his watch and sniffled. Clearing his throat as he realized how late in the morning it was.
“I guess I should make an appearance.” Lu finally said after a moment of comfortable silence. He stood and started to correct his disheveled attire. You waited, sipping your beverage as he straightened his tie and tucked in his shirt.
He went to the mirror on the wall and took some care to realign his trinkets and chains that adorned his horns.
You always said that Lu was a handsome DragonBorn. And if you weren’t still healing from your last break up, you would be all over him. Like you said before, his gifts were adorable and he always made you laugh. Very rarely did you have a bad day that ended with you stewing in your frustration or anger.
Lu made you feel comfortable and relaxed just by talking to you. He was a sweetheart. But your heart was still too bitter to let someone else in right now.
“You’re staring.” Lu teased. Winking at you from his reflection.
You huffed. Used to the sudden flush of embarrassment every time Lu flirted with you. It took you a long time to accept Lu’s little jibes. But he did so, only with your consent and for your entertainment. He knew where he stood with you.
He was a friend. A work colleague that took you out for drinks and nothing came at the end of the night other than a “I’m home safe” text from both of you.
You sometimes fantasied the idea of the two of you dating. Seeing him treated the way he was, hurt you more than he knew. And not to brag or boast, but you would treat him well.
Like you did with Dax…
In sappy words, you treated Dax like a King and he treated you like a Queen.
Equals.
Partners.
You loved each other so sweetly that when you looked back on it, your lives together still brought on a wave of sadness. You never were left unwanting and never left feeling lonely-
Claws clicked in front of your face and you startled out of your thoughts to look up at Lu.
Who smiled down at you with a soft expression. A hand laying on your shoulder as an air of understanding passed between you.
“You’re thinking about him again.” Lu said. It wasn’t a question. Lu knew when you got lost in your thoughts.
The breakup, even seven months old, still hurts like a jagged knife to your chest. You weren’t sure how long breakup pain was meant to go for. But you thought you’d be over it more than you were by now.
You sighed and nodded. Letting your hand rest on Lu’s.
“We’re both suckers.” You teased. And Lu laughed. Nodding in agreement.
“I’m a hopeless romantic. And you’re a heart broken damsel.”
You jokingly glared up at the DragonBorn. “I’m not a damsel.”
“Well, I’m a Dragon and it's only fitting you’re the princess in the tower.” Lu said. Moving his hand and leading the way out of the office. You followed with your coffee in hand.
“What if I want to be the knight?” You asked. And Lu scoffed.
“I would love to see you in armor. You would be hot as fuck.” Lu said, passing between the desks and cubicles where the rest of his employees were. They smiled and greeted the two of you as they always did. Without enthusiasm but a genuine friendly tone.
No one liked working.
Everyone wanted to go home.
At least Lu was one of those bosses that also wanted to go home, but knew bills had to be paid and didn’t expect everyone to be all smiles and cheerful. Another thing you liked about him. He treated his employees like people. Not numbers or robots.
Just as you were about to leave Lu and go to your desk, a young man came jogging up to the two of you. He was red faced and puffing.
You knew this man.
He was Lu’s secretary. Even though Lu hated the idea, he was still around. Mostly because Lu didn’t want to fire a family man who just got this job. And also because his mother insisted.
“I can’t deny this place pays well. I’m not going to sack him because I hate being followed.” Lu would say whenever he complained about Matt.
Lu greeted Matt just as warmly as everyone else. But there was an undertone of impatience to it.
“Matt, what news does my mother want me to hear?” He asked. And you chuckled as you went to your desk. Just two desks away from where Matt trapped Lu.
“Actually, it's from the front desk. They couldn’t reach your phone.” Matt huffed. Taking a deep breath to stop himself from wheezing before continuing. “There’s a man downstairs that is looking to talk with you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he won’t leave without seeing you. The girls downstairs are worried.”
Now very interested, you slid your chair over to sit behind Lu so you could listen in. Your boss’ tail slid along the ground and pushed you back against your desk. You pouted at him as you were slowly shoved away from the very juicy moment.
“I’ll be down in a minute. Make sure security is at the ready in case it's a weirdo.” Lu said, his usual nonchalant, lazily tone now a hardened growl.
Lu tried to avoid conflict as much as possible. He hated how stupid most arguements were and most could be fixed with a very simple solution of people having common sense.
But when it came to his building and his staff, you got to see the Dragon side of him. He didn’t mess around when it came to the safety and comfort of his employees.
Matt nodded and scurried away. Pushing his phone to his ear as he went to the elevator. Lu sighed heavily and removed his tail from the back of your chair.
“Duty calls.” He said with a heavy expression.
“Tell me all about it when you get back?” You asked.
“Of course! We don’t get this much excitement all the time.” Lu expressed. Flashing you a smile as he followed after Matt. Giving the secretary enough time to give the heads up and be down there before Lu.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dax knew this building.
Many mornings and afternoons he had dropped you off for work and picked you up from it.
He knew the address and the floor you were on. Having sent many flowers and ordered food just for you.
It stung a little to be in a place that was so familiar to him. And he almost didn’t come. The chance of seeing you again made his chest tighten and his palms sweat.
But he had a job to do.
Tucker was worried about Pepper, his fiance. For the past couple of weeks she had been acting weird. So weird that even Dax had noticed the distance she started to bring to her relationship with Tucker.
And a week ago, Tucker finally folded and asked Dax about it. Confiding in his best friend about his worries about Pepper.
“What if she’s cheating?” Tucker had whimpered. “I don’t know how to take that.”
“She’s not.” Dax had reassured the satyr. “You know her family is strict. Maybe she’s trying to fix something with them and keep you out of it. She’s like that, remember? When the two of you started dating, there was a month where she refused to go out anywhere with you. And you thought it was because she was ashamed? But really it was because she was scared her family would see her with someone. Let me talk to her. Maybe she’ll tell me.”
Dax didn’t have to ask Pepper what was going on.
He followed her one night. Spotting her out in the city when he was about to go home from work. She was dressed up in her nicest dress. The one he remembered Tucker really liked.
And she went into a club. Alone. Which was strange because Pepper very rarely went anywhere without her group of friends.
Dax wasn’t usually the one to follow and spy on people. He liked to keep his business to himself and let whatever the fuck was going on, be alone.
But Tucker was worried.
And Pepper was acting weird.
His two best friends were starting to split apart and he really wanted to make sure Pepper was alright.
At least, that's what he told himself when he followed her into the club and spied her kissing the cheek of a green DragonBorn.
He looked rich. In that pompous, playboy way in a stylish suit and covered in shiny things.
His hands were all over Pepper. Holding her hand. Laying on her hip when they got their drinks and found a booth. Playing with her hair and watching her laugh with a distant, awe filled gaze.
Pepper was all smiles and sitting so close she was basically on the man’s lap.
He had seen enough.
And for a few days he wrestled with the idea of telling Tucker.
He deserved it know. Dax would never hide something like this from him.
But how do you tell someone, your best friend, that their child-hood sweetheart was out with other men without him knowing?
He didn’t know how.
And he had no idea how to confront Pepper either. Or how she would react to his knowledge of her outings.
But he did know he wanted to do one thing. Confront the guy Pepper was seeing.
Make sure he didn’t harass Pepper again and ensure he knew she was an engaged woman.
It was how you and he met after all.
It was one thing he was good at. Making men back down from harassing women.
On the beach, you were in a swimsuit that made you look so sexy. And him playing beach volleyball with Tucker and some other friends. He never lied to you, he had checked you out many times during that day. Who could resist such a sight?
But then a group of guys went to you and your friends, not taking no for an answer when you tried to get them to leave you all alone.
And so Dax, the intimidating, hulky gray orc had to step in and ask if everything was alright.
Pretending to be someone you knew until the group of idiots left.
One conversation later and he asked for your number. Which you gave and the rest was history.
The DragonBorn Pepper had seen might not know what was going on.
But if he did, Dax had to put a stop to it immediately before he confronted Tucker.
….He didn’t have a reason why this was the better plan. Probably to postpone the heartbreaking news to his friend.
But as the DragonBorn exited the elevators, wings neatly folded against his back, suit crisp and clean, Dax felt a surge of anger rise in him. Why this man of all people? Did Pepper seriously try her luck with a womanizer like this?
“Leave Pepper alone.” He growled. And the DragonBorn stopped in his tracks. The stoic expression changed to surprise and a long stretch of silence followed. The emerald gaze floated from Dax’s old sneakers, up along the torn black jeans, to the shaggy mane of hair atop his head.
The fucker laughed. Actually, laughed.
His clawed hands lifted from his pants pockets in an act of peace. Palms out towards Dax as if to stop the wall of fury coming any closer. The smile was easy going. But it made Dax even more irritated.
“Easy, tiger. Pepper already called it off.” The reptilian replied. “Are you the fiance then?”
The look this DragonBorn had already told Dax he knew Pepper was not his girlfriend.
“I’m a friend of his.” Dax replied. Allowing his anger to flow through his words. “Did you know about her relationship?”
“It wasn’t like she wore the ring.” The DragonBorn said. “The moment she told me, I left. I didn’t know.” He added on. Like he was making sure that was certain. “She told me her fiance was catching on and that we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I, for one, almost fainted when she dropped that bombshell. Could you pass on my apologies to the guy for me?”
Dax hated the genuine tone to this guy’s words. Like he was actually sorry for what had happened.
But there was no way he didn’t know. Someone like him didn’t care about such things.
He was a rich kid after all.
Dax looked around. People were staring. A handful of personnel were standing by the doors. They were big people. Minotaurs, other orcs, even an ogre stood among them. The women behind the desk were busying themselves with computers and patrons to the building. But Dax could see their concerned glances.
He couldn’t do this here.
Dax bunched up his fists and stuffed them in his hoodie pockets. The DragonBorn was around the same height as him. But he was thinner. And Dax leaned forward just a little to glare into the DragonBorn’s eyes.
“Make sure I don’t see you with her again.” Dax growled. Before turning on his heels and storming out the building. He saw the security guards about to step towards him, but in the reflection of the window, he glimpsed the DragonBorn raise his hand to stop them.
Dax left the building with that raging fire still in him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Lu returned from his adventure downstairs his expression was distant.
Thoughtful.
And you quickly finished off what you were doing to catch him as he entered his office.
“That bad?” You asked. Unsure how to handle this situation. Lu kept it professional when it came to the company’s business. You were left in the dark about a lot of it, which you understood. You were in no position to know anything about the company’s finances or hirings or anything to do with the higher ups. And you didn’t like pushing it to know either. Because it could come out that you were trying to worm your way into the business through Lu.
Which you definitely were not. But sometimes, the business hung on Lu’s shoulders like weights. And you just wanted to know if he was ok.
Lu seemed to be startled by your presence. He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck.
“Yeah, pretty bad. You won’t believe who-”
He stopped mid-sentence. And you waited patiently for him to name who had visited him without a call or appointment. Lu was an important man. But everyone knew they needed some sort of time slot to see him. Otherwise he shrugs them off and tells them to make an appointment if it isn’t an emergency. He had no time for random visits from strange people.
But he looked at you and you could almost see his expression change from confused to worried then to a laughing smile.
“It was a mistress…of my mother’s.” He finally said. Like he had been holding his breath for a long time. “Apparently she isn’t answering her phone. So, the lady tried to go through me to her.”
You scoffed and leaned against the door frame. “Really? What are you? A messaging dove?”
“That's what I said!” Lu exclaimed with a shake of his head. “But I am going to gloat to Mother that her little succubus friend came by. She’s gonna be so pissed!’
He waved you away as he picked up his phone. And you closed the door behind you as you left to continue your work.
That afternoon, you worked a little later than usual. Both you and a few other co-workers got caught up in an avalanche of paperwork. And with the weekend coming up, you really didn’t want to get caught working late again. So, you busted it out alongside your team and got it done just as Lu finished up his last meeting.
He gave you all a hard, but playful, look when he came out of his office and spotted your cluster of workers.
“You guys are going to make me look bad if you keep working so hard.” Lu sighed as he waited by your desk. “I want to be out of here by 4pm every day. If you all keep working this hard, I’m going to have to work harder so I’m not replaced.”
It was 6:30pm when you grabbed your bag and joined him by the elevators. Your team chatted between themselves as you all piled into the lift.
Lu conversed with Abby as he answered a few emails. Totally oblivious to her hints at getting a drink with him tonight.
You kicked his shin and he looked at you in surprise. Before following your sideward glance at Abby as she giggled.
“Oh, um, actually, (y/n) and I were going to go get dinner. I owe her for picking up some of my slack.” Lu said. You were totally dumbfounded by his response. But Abby seemed ok with it. She told him that she’ll ask again another time and say her goodbyes as the elevator door opened. Everyone piled out and left the building. You dragged Lu to stray behind the crowd. Pinching his sides.
“What are you doing? She’s so sweet!” You scolded Lu. Who sighed heavily and shrugged.
“I want to take a moment away from dating, that's all.” He told you. “And yeah, she is really sweet. But I don’t think she’s my type.”
You gasped theatrically at him. “You have a type?”
Lu pushed you playfully away. Making you laugh as you clung to his arm so you weren’t pushed too far away. “But seriously. Are you all good? Ever since that visitor today you’ve been acting weird.”
Lu made a show of hooking your arm under his and patted your hand affectionately. His love language was touch. Even to his friends he would hold their hands or link arms. It was just his way of showing affection.
“She shook me a little.” Lu said with a reassuring smile. “Promise I’m ok. Just had a lot of my plate today. Nothing some good food and a drink won’t fix.”
You let it drop. Lu would eventually either tell you what was actually wrong, or you would pry bits and pieces from him until you could figure it out.
Either way, distracting him with food was the best idea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dax felt like a creep.
Straying near the building for the rest of the day until the last of the workers left, felt wrong.
What was he even doing here?
The DragonBorn said he didn’t know Pepper was engaged and said he had laid it off. Dax still had to go home and break the news to Tucker about all this mess.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t leave yet. Pretending like he cared what this DragonBorn did after he finished work. Because he was still postponing the heart shattering news to his best friend.
He sighed and leaned heavily against the car seat.
He had been here for hours. Waiting and watching. Unsure what he was really doing here other than scoping out for the DragonBorn. Sitting in his car across the street from the company you worked at. Watching the front doors as people started to leave.
And strange thing was, he hadn’t seen you leave yet.
Did you get a new job elsewhere? You were usually out of the office by 4pm. And you tried to worm your way out of working late all the time. You hated coming home and not have a lot of time in the afternoon for yourself.
Going home. Dax corrected himself. He sighed again and rubbed his eyes to relieve some of the tiredness from them.
It wasn’t until the sun had gone down did he finally spot the DragonBorn amongst the small crowd of workers. He was much taller than the rest of them and his laugh seemed to echo through the street like a melody.
But then, Dax saw you.
And his chest nearly burst open with the sudden rush of emotion that came over him.
You looked well. Dressed in one of your professional outfits that Dax had once helped you put together. Your smile was wide and your eyes gleamed with laughter.
He swallowed the thick ball that choked his throat and forced his gaze away from you.
His nails dug into the palm of his hand as his fists clenched. Watching the DragonBorn curl his arm over yours and his scaly fingers stroke your hand lovingly.
The emotion in him boiled into that all too familiar anger. He gritted his teeth. Feeling his jaw ache as his teeth were clenched together.
You looked up at the DragonBorn with that same smile that used to turn Dax to puddy. Holding the creature close as he led you to a nearby car. Where the driver got out and opened the door for the two of you.
She moved on quick. The bitter words bounced around in his head like a swarm of locusts. And that cheating scumbag has her under his thumb as well.
Your car smoothly pulled out onto the road once you were seated inside. And Dax turned his car on and followed.
At first, he thought maybe you were being dropped home. But instead the car drove past your place and pulled up by one of the restaurants nearby.
It was one of your favorites. Dax didn’t enjoy many of the dishes there but he loved taking you.
A night out and then a good movie cuddle session.
Another sharp pain in his chest made his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. He kept driving. Moving quickly so you didn’t spot his beat up old car as you exited the vehicle.
But he pulled up in a parking spot down the street. Getting out just in time to see you and the DragonBorn go inside.
How was he going to tell you? What was his plan right now?
You haven’t spoken in 7 months and suddenly Dax is going to kick down this door and say that the Dragon is cheating on you with Pepper?
He stalled. Keeping away from the front of the restaurant where large, crystal clean windows displayed its patrons inside.
It would sound ridiculous…
What proof did he have right now? He hasn’t even told Tucker yet. What if the DragonBorn lied right to your face and you believed him over Dax?
He breathed heavily. Rubbing his face with the palm of his hand. He could feel the heavy scruff on his cheeks and chin and there was a sweaty scent to his hand.
In the sliver of glass that he stood next too, his reflection stared back at him with a sullen look. His hair was a mess and the hoodie he wore had stains on it. It was his workout clothes. Meant to get dirty and smelly before he went for a shower and change.
He could see you in the back. Seated at a corner table with a candle and decorative flowers as the centerpiece.
The DragonBorn spoke to the waiter and ordered for both of you while you picked through your phone.
Dax knew you hated eating dinner without your phone being on vibrate. You had once said it ruined the mood if a notification suddenly pinged during the romantic moments.
In the candlelight, you looked beautiful. You haven’t changed a bit. And it was eating at Dax that it wasn’t him beside you.
He couldn’t even remember why the two of you broke up. The argument was a blur to him. The day before it was even less of a memory. He just remembered being angry.
He was always angry.
“Excuse me, sir.” A voice called to him. And he was greeted with a kind eyed man in the restaurant's uniform. “A table for one? Or are you expecting company?”
Dax glanced back at you one more time before shaking his head. “No, thank you. I was just looking at the place. Driven past so many times, I thought I’d finally see it in person.” He lied. Hoping his smile didn’t show any of the pain he was feeling right now.
The man smiled in return and bid him goodnight before returning to the door.
Dax didn’t wait around after that. He needed to fix things with Tucker before he could confront you with this news.
Perhaps he could get Tucker to do it. Save the embarrassing meeting all together by getting the true victim of all this to break the news.
Another heavy sigh and Dax got back into his car and sped away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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