#Goody Two Shoes |Muse|

[cold-steel-eyes]

which fairytale archetype are you?

the long-suffering knight

“Lancelot is: […] Probably sadistic or he would not have taken such frightful care to be gentle. […] 6. Ferociously punitive to his own body. He denies it and slave-drives it. 7. Devoted to ‘honour,’ which he regards as keeping promises and ‘having a Word.’ He tries to be consistent. 8. Curiously tolerant of other people who do not follow his own standards. He was nor shocked by the lady who was naked as a needle. 9. Not without a sense of humour. It was a good joke dressing up as Kay. And he often says amusing things. 10. Fond of being alone. 11. Humble about his athleticism: not false modesty. 12. Self-critical. Aware of some big lack in himself. What was it? 13. Subject to pity, cf. no. 3. 14. Emotional. He is the only person Mallory mentions as crying from relief. 15. Highly strung: subject to nervous breakdowns. 16. Yet practical. He ends by dealing with the Guinevere situation pretty well. He is a good man to have with you in a tight corner. […]18. Human. He firmly believes that for him, it is a choice between God and Guinevere, and he takes Guinevere. He says: This is wrong and against my will, but I can’t help it. […] People he was like: 1. Lawrence of Arabia, 2. A nice captain of the cricket, 3. Parnell, 4. Sir W Raleigh, 5. Hamlet, 6. Me, 7. Prince Rufant, 8. Montros, 9. Tony Ireland or Von Simm […] or whatever, 10. Any mad man, 11. Adam.” — TH White. Torn between guilt and devotion, he represents the late medieval anxiety of whether equal devotion to one's lady and one's liege is possible. He loves both, so he must lose both. He can only end the story happy if he either refuses to indulge his temptation or leaves this world – either for heaven or the fairy realm.

Tagged by: Stole it from @explosivedarling

Tagging: Y O U

[playingwithstarsabove]

Go listen to Astralshifts Little Goody Two Shoes soundtrack, I'm practically begging.

Not only does it sound amazing, the lyrics to several songs sound exactly like Anime openings and endings I'm not even kidding.

[c1tyhaunts]

This is the kind of song I see Avian singing in her house as she's baking, when, in her current canon, she is not a world class sinner. In fact, she's quite the opposite.

[alchemistdetective]

Dare I ask why Crescent is kissing Nazrin? Or is it some other rat we don't know about?

"You see, it involves three people hitting the corpse of a rat around with a baseball bat, and whoever misses, 'kisses' the rat."

"Children these days are extremely scary."

[legendariium]

Which of your muses if the most powerful one, and why?

Who is the most goodie-two-shoes out of all your muses? Who is the most troublesome out of all your muses?

(answers limited to just the muses on this blog, not across all my blogs. for my own peace of mind)

I would imagine Eonwe is my most powerful muse. Across all my blogs at that. Why? Because he’s Chief of the Maiar, canonically most skilled in arms in all of Arda, Herald of Manwë, basically the equivalent of the Archangels Michael&Gabriel in one.

Most goodie-two-shoes almost goes to Eonwe as well — but alas, he comes in close second to Inunir. It is because Inunir is good out of the pureness of his heart & the love in his soul, whereas Eonwe - while still pure of heart - acts first and foremost out of a sense of duty.

Most troublesome is definitely Thuringwethil for being straight up evil. She likes to play with her food and causes trouble for the free peoples just for funsies.

[universestreasures]

Been feeling muse mode for characters I have and have not written before and I've done all my school work for the week and I feel like making graphics so....

Perhaps we'll see these two being added?

[kazeofthemagun]

What is your moral alignment?

[tagged: I *think* I did this, but I lost it so here it is again.]

[tagging: @shiroi---kumo ]

You are 22.5% evil, 64.2% chaotic, making you Chaotic Neutral.

"Chaotic Neutral people believe that there ultimately is no order to anything, including their own actions. With this as their guiding principle, they tend to follow whatever their fancy tells them to. Good and evil are irrelevant when making a decision. Chaotic Neutral people are often extremely difficult to deal with. Although they promote the ideals of freedom, it is their own freedom that comes first. Chaotic Neutral individuals are free-spirited and do not enjoy the unnecessary suffering of others, but if they join a team, it is because that team's goals happen to coincide with their own at the moment. They resent taking orders and can be very selfish in their pursuit of their personal goals. Yet their methods of achieving their goals are often disorganized, unorthodox, and almost entirely unpredictable."

[thedetectiveofinaba]

In my opinion Naoto got herself involved to the Telephone Pole Murder case willingly and directly and was a part “in the murder mystery game” the IT tried to do something about by directly telling them her plans to catch the perp in action and then lowkey implied and/or set the scene the way she intended it to happen by the main frame.

I’m yeeting the rest on my rambling under Read More bc I ended up detailing it more than I anticipated at first :’DDD

Her plan was to get first hand evidence from the victim’s POV, ensure the information would reach the PD one way or another and not die from the possible outcomes/assassination attempt. The “pawns” or allies in this plan would be the members of IT who would by assumption save her. Her hypothesis is based on the fact that so far they have saved every victim shown in TV and they appear to not want people to be killed like this: their last reaction to how they got enraged on her calling it a game to them proved her theory on this.

Her relying on a fickle group like this would be too risky to her liking and a last ditch effort she’d wanted to NOT use, but it’d ensure that the case wouldn’t end & she’d have first hand evidence/witness statements. She’d rather have found about the whole thing on her own, but since it was impossible she needed a plan what worked.

She outplayed the entire Investigation Team and is well aware of it the whole time during the comment and first months of hanging out with them.

At that time she didn’t think that much of it. Being not transparent 24/7 and knowing when to hide your intentions had always been a part of her job. For example fooling people, using white lies and leading people on to reveal important information or do something necessary were important assets she used and was talented at.

When she eventually befriends IT she’s concerned that if they ever find out about her original intent, it might sever the trust what formed. It’d make her feel kinda bad and question her morality, especially during the Hospital Scene when she realizes how she had a talent what could be used to unlawful intentions.

Her fear does turn out to be useless since she isn’t malicious towards the group and does amend her past BS actions by hiding their effect to the case from the PD and helping them in the case directly while risking her reputation, and there is a seed of truth on how she was and is grateful to the friend group on saving her life and showing that living in a lie isn’t worth it.

Also it sure is convenient to her that she’s able to be open on how it was the only way she thought on handling the issue and that even though the plan seemed solid on theory, she was fucking afraid on the night assuming the kidnapping would happen.

[abyssmalice]

"Bad boys...? But I don't think it's good to get into trouble..."

[arminsumi]

GETO FINGERING YOU 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

DETENTION

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

Note : GOD YES 🤤 srry i am late but i hope this satisfies ur craving hehe

Summary : just a bad boy giving you a hand in detention

Warnings : daddy/good girl dynamic, fingering, squirting, semi-public (in detention), finger sucking, hints to 3sum idea with his bff

Playme : detention

🍒 More from Jay : GETO works / JJK works

"S-S—Suguruuu, harder... please. Moremoremore!" you beg in a hoarse voice.

"Hmmm? Did I hit a sweet spot?" he makes a toothy smirk, dark eyes lighting up at your reaction to the stimulation.

You nod. He pumps his fingers harder, eliciting an eye-roll of pleasure from you that he savors. He knows he's doing something right when he's got you acting out like this.

It's just you and him in detention; the goody-two-shoes student and the bad boy delinquent with chipped black nails and a terrible record.

Your thighs are spread out wide on the desk as he leans his body close, reaching knuckle deep and curling his thick fingers up into a gummy spot that makes you shudder and grip his bicep.

"Ouh, Fuck! Sugu—"

"Quiet, quiet..." he hushes you immediately, his words entering your mouth as his lips graze over yours.

"You don't want to get caught being a slut for me in detention, do you?" he asks rhetorically.

He smirks to himself, thinking;

Surely she doesn't... that would put a dent in her spotless record, wouldn't it? Fucking around with someone like me... yeah her parents would just hate that, huh?

You pinch your bottom lip between your teeth as he hits deep strokes and massages his fingertips into your gummy walls. Your sticky juices are all over his hand because of that squirting orgasm he worked out of you earlier. Suguru mused to himself, I don't think the principle's desk appreciates getting soaked like this...

"Look at you, enjoying yourself... wonder what your parents would think if they saw you right now." Suguru grins devilishly, looking down at your pussy.

Such a snug fit... there's no way she could take my cock on the first try, I know it. I'll have to train her little hole. Maybe Satoru can help.

He's so much bigger than you. His fingers reach so much deeper than yours. They hit so much harder. And with no breaks, too. They're merciless in the pursuit of your second orgasm.

"Gonna cum and make a mess for me again? Yeah?"

"Yes! Please, pleasepleaseplease — make me cum!" you whisper frantically against him.

He chuckles when you moan, pumping his fingers faster and faster, fingering at your clit with his other hand to tip you over the edge.

He studies you intently as your orgasm builds up, oh if only he studied his textbooks as intently as this... then he wouldn't have that C grade next to his name. And maybe if he would have had the same determination in school as he does now when finding your G-spot, then he wouldn't have gotten in detention at all.

You couldn't blame him for roping you into the blame, instead you happily nodded to the principle and confessed to a stunt that you didn't even pull. And the principle half-suspected you were lying... because why would the star student be running around with the bad boy?

Suguru's dampened forehead rests against yours. He can feel the radiating heat of your cheeks in this proximity. Those dark eyes never stop staring at you, making sure you're as flustered as possible even in this pleasure-drunk state.

"Fuck... you're gushing..." he says in awe, " 'promise to lick my fingers clean after, yeah?" he rasps against you.

"Yes yes yes!" you say. He's pretty sure that you would have said yes to anything right then; you were so blissed by the way his fingers worked into your soaking hole, by the way they stretched you open just right.

"Good. Then cum all you want... quiet, quiet~"

He's got some audacity to coo you to be quiet when he's finger fucking you this loudly. The whole room fills with the squelching sound. His arm arches, and his muscles flex under his uniform shirt as he goes at it with more intensity.

"Cumminggg~" you whine in a strained voice.

"That's a good girl. Cum for me — yeahhh that's it, just cum, oh fuck — there we go, haha, squirting all over my palm again... cute."

He feels your pussy contract and squeeze like crazy around his middle and ring finger, juices wetting his hand and pants, dripping off the edge of the principle's desk to the floor...

You shake and nuzzle your face into his broad chest, letting out a broken moan — a sound that travelled straight to Suguru's cock.

"Mmm, still with me?"

"Y-yeah... fuck..."

He's pushing his fingers up deep, feeling around in slow massaging motions, savoring your tight grip. You shudder in his arms.

"Hey angel?"

You look up at him, feeling lovey-dovey because of his sweet tone.

He smiles down at you, withdrawing his fingers with a sloppy squelching little pop noise. Your hole misses him immediately, his fingers were filling you up so good.

"Mmmf." you splutter as he shoves his fingers into your mouth.

"Clean daddy's fingers, like you promised. You can do that for me, right?" he has that cocky tone just like his best friend for a second there. He can't wait to tell Satoru about how he made the popular princess squirt twice.

You nod obediently. When you start to suck his fingers, his heart flutters a bit.

"Such a tiny mouth..." he remarks, thinking about how your lips would engulf his cock instead. "Bet you couldn't handle taking all of this, hm?" he uses his free hand to bring your tinier one to palm at his bulge.

You suck harder on Suguru's fingers, and feel up the thick outline of his cock. He leans close and holds such intense eye contact that you feel entranced.

"Wanna take care of daddy's problem after detention?" he asks in a deep rasp. "I can invite Satoru to help too, if you want. What do you say, angel?"

[pursuitseternal]

“The Second Day” of “Antics of the Newly Ascended:” staring Batstarion🦇

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 1.3K Pure antics and comedy

🦇 art by @marimosalad Link to full art

Summary: You can’t pick a lock without your Rogue, even if he is Ascnedant now. So you wait… and wait… until a new unexpected visitor flies in.

CW: Banter, Poop jokes, Tav filtering Astarion’s threats and antics, sneezes, and cute fluffy vampiric bats with an attitude 🦇 (no smut)

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterist

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Hells, what is taking him so…flipping long?”

For a split second, you think Gale might actually swear, but no. The goody-two-shoes scout wins out in the end. You giggle anyway.

“Said he’d be back quick with a new set of lockpicks ready to go, Mister Ascendant Lord and expert of the underbelly of Baldur’s Gate…” Gale huffs and folds his arms crossly.

Karlach snorts next to you, both your backs leaning against the alley walls. You keep to the shadows, eyeing up the house you need to enter… surreptitiously. Those Flaming Fist have been everywhere lately, and you still needed your Rogue to break you in nearly everywhere in the City.

“He’s probably too busy doing Ascendant things to hurry, Gale,” Karlach chuckles, peering her horned head into the street.

“Like what?” you ask, folding your arms and pouting your lips, “what could he possibly be doing but rushing back to be with me?”

Gale rolls his eyes, seeing the wry expression on your face, he realizes you joke. “Oh, good one,” he chortles. “Oh lots of things, I would imagine if I applied my wildest musings…”

“Get to the point wizard!” Karlach slaps him on the back. “More taunting, fewer words.”

Gale sputters for air after having it knocked from his body. And you laugh at that.

Suddenly, you feel a breeze pass your face. A blur of white settles on the wall beside your head. Hanging upside down.

A fluffy white bat. It chitters at you.

“Oh shit,” Karlach jolts at the sight. “That thing is massive.”

It seems to chitter more.. proudly at that. You narrow your eyes at it… your other companions draw away a step, leaving the beast with space.

“If Astarion were here, he’d probably call it a snack and snatch it from the air…” Gale jabs, a self-confident smile on his face, proud of his own humor. His own best entertainment.

“Naw… he’s too busy picking out new fancy clothes…” Karlach peers into the street.

“Too busy trying to burst into a sea of mist…” Gale laughs.

You giggle, thinking of something he did just that morning, for an hour, “Preening his hair into a perfect coif before kissing his reflection…”

Gale’s mouth snaps shut. The bat on the wall chitters noisily again, flapping its wings as it comes to dart around your head. “That bat is all over you,” his eyes narrow, “but I’m fresh out of Speak with Animals potions for now.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind, maybe he’s lonely…” You hold out your hand, an offering to let the little mammal rest somewhere soft. “Gives me something to look after until Astarion comes back.”

“Don’t let him see you’ve got a new pet…” Gale taunts, leaning closer to peer at the creature that now rests in your palm, “He might get jealous and snap it up in his fangs.”

Does… is the bat… glaring at Gale?

You look closely, but Karlach guffaws. “Oh oh, I’ve got it. I think I know what’s keeping the Vampire Ascendant! He’s probably stuck taking his first shit in two-hundred years...”

Okay, now that bat in your palm is definitely glaring, and chittering, and… pissed. You look closely at last, it’s white fur catches the sun in shades of silver, its eyes are a deep red… almost a crimson…

You stop. “Astarion?” you murmur at the little creature, patting its head with a single finger.

It… He… bounces on your hand, chittering away, pointed little face nodding.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach groans. “How the fuck did you turn into that?”

Gale leans closer… but not too close just in case. “I’ve read that some Vampires can take forms themselves, if powerful enough.” He grins widely, “Could be ferocious werewolf, or noxious cloud…” that grin twists, “Yours is adorable, if I do say so myself, Astarion.”

You can almost hear the ire in the noises that he makes in reply. Still nonsense chatter, but the emotion is clear.

He is not amused.

“Gale, you do realize he will turn back, and he will be pissed,” you warn with a shake of your head. You freeze, a whisper tickling inside your mind as the creature in your palm twitches and rests. “Astarion says it’s not his fault you're a pack of incompetent… oh,” you pause, patting him on his head with a finger, “I’m not going to say that part, my love.”

“He’s… talking to you?” Gale twists his head and raises a brow. “Like, mind to mind?”

“Yes,” you nod, “we are just as baffled at the moment, I will be honest with you, even if he said not to tell you…” the bat starts scrabbling up your arm, chittering even more noisily than before. “Stop whining, darling. You’ll figure it out.” He comes to rest on your shoulder, hanging upside down from the seam of your shirt. “And he says he would rather you never again speculate about his bowel movements either, on pain of… I’m going to say, a severe talking to.”

“That’s not what he said is it?” Karlach guffaws.

You can’t help but let your finger scritch under his little chin as he dangles from your shoulder. “No, no,” you giggle as you watch his beady little eyes flutter shut at the petting. “He used his regular ascendantly foul mouth.”

“Well, Vampire Ascendant or not, he’s not going to be much help breaking and entering in that form, is he?” Gale snips, rolling his eyes.

“He says he would be more than happy to talk us through it, if we… oh, again? I’m not suggesting that, my pet,” you shake your head, removing your scratching finger to wag it at him. “Naughty,” you chide.

“How did you get like that anyway, Astarion?” Karlach chuffs, folding her arms and swaying on her feet.

“He sneezed,” you reply. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to share that. I’m sorry, my love. You really should be more obvious about what is for my ears… er… mind alone.”

“Maybe…” Gale gives a mischievous grin, “if we get you to sneeze again… maybe you’ll change back to a form with fingers that can actually do some good.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a little bit of powder, and blows.

The little bat writhes, fur standing on end, flat folded nose twitching before….

“Achoo!” The sneeze echoes off the alley walls, a burst of black mist that tingles your skin as his tall, lean and wiry body forms against your arm. You can sense his irritation, out right, cuttingly sharp annoyance lacing his angry breaths. Once the mist clears, Astarion is, in fact, glaring at you all. Crimson eyes dart from one to the next. “I am… going to fucking kill you,” he hisses.

“Shh…” you cajole, raising your finger to scritch under his smooth chin, clenched tight in his rage. Instantly, the moment you begin your gentle petting, he eases, eyes fluttering shut.

“I think he likes that, soldier,” Karlach whispers a giggle. “Do you feed him little treats when he’s a good boy?”

“Only if he gets us into that house with those dexterous hands of his,” you chuckle and slide your hand to stroke his cheek.

“Fine,” he sighs, exasperated, tired, and annoyed. “But not one of you breathes a word of this to Halsin… or Wyll… or… anyone.”

“Agreed,” Karlach slaps him on the back.

He begins rummaging his lithe fingers through his pack, turning those crimson eyes on you as you watch. “And you, my consort, don’t think I’m not going to make you pay for that mirror-kissing comment earlier…”

“Don’t think you won’t have to earn those chin scritches, my love,” you giggle in return as he flashes that fanged smirk at you.

“One more, my darling?” he purrs, watching the others start into the street already. “One for the road, one in case we die today?”

Your fingers reach quickly to oblige, his eyes closing to savor your attentive care. And you giggle, “Who can argue with that?”

[cold-steel-eyes]

Saw @lotuskissed do this a while ago and I finally got around to make one for Buck!

[playingwithstarsabove]

Little Goody Two Shoes/Pocket Mirror Theory

(Spoilers for both Games below!)

In "A Boy's Midnight Journey", written by Henri, he mentions how he sees and talks to dead people at night. According to Word of God, this was a side effect of something.

In Little Goody Two Shoes, we find out Elise was made from Saint Walpurga and could see the Golden Girls at night. It's possible that his ability came from Saint Walpurga and the "dead" he sees were golden girls.

Also, in Goldia/Fleta's journal, she mentions a girl named Claire who went missing one day. Knowing that Ozzy takes people as sacrifices to see him... It doesn't look good for Henri nor Claire.

[theemporium]

hi hi hi love, i was wondering if you could do poly!marauders with shy!reader and they tease her in a public area

thank you thank you thank you xxx

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

If there was one thing the boys loved doing, it was watching you blush. 

Sometimes it was doing something as simple as complimenting you. A harmless compliment that would make your cheeks burn or make a giddy smile appear on your face, it was like a straight shot of serotonin through their veins.

Sometimes it was by the way they looked at you, those lovesick expressions they got on their faces whenever you did something simple or basic. Whether it was rambling about a book you recently read, sprawled across one of their beds whilst you listened to them talk or even just in class when your face was scrunched up in that cute expression that told them you were focusing. A simple look from them could make your cheeks go pink. 

But their absolute favourite way to make you blush was when you were whiny and needy and desperate for them, and your cheeks were flushed the perfect shade that could make them hard in seconds. It was a sight that nothing could beat.

“C’mon, baby, I thought you wanted to get this essay done,” Remus whispered in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your skin and it made you shiver in your seat. 

You bit down on your lower lip, the piece of parchment and quill abandoned on the table in front of you without a care in the world. 

“Not very goody-two-shoes of you, was it?” Sirius mused from your other side, his hand on the back of your neck as he placed soft kisses along your jaw. 

But it was the boy under the table hidden under the invisibility cloak that had you speechless, his body hidden from the sight of the students and professors loitering the library around you, but you knew he was there.

You could feel his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs open as you tucked your feet behind the legs of your chair. You could feel his curly hair ticking your thighs, making you squirm and wiggle in your seat. You could feel his tongue lapping your soaking cunt, your thighs sticky with your own release but he never stopped. 

James Potter fucking loved to eat you out and he would be damned if anybody stopped him. Nobody could fucking stop him because nobody knew he was there, except for you and the two boys to your side.

“We made a deal, darling,” Remus hummed, his fingers gently tracing the necklace they got you for your birthday a few months back. The action would seem cute to anyone who looked over, but all you could think about way how easy it could be for him to just unbutton the top buttons of your shirt and slip his hand—

“Jamie isn’t gonna stop until you finish your essay,” Sirius continued, his nose brushing against your cheek as his fingers tapped on the piece of parchment. “He can stay there all night if he needs to.”

“Please,” you whined, your eyes glossy as your hands gripped the edge of your seat. “Please.”

“Are you gonna come again, love?” Remus cooed softly, tucking some hair behind your ear. “You gonna come in front of all these people like a slut again?”

Your cheeks burned. “I—”

“Our good little slut,” Sirius grumbled, his words washing over you as you tipped over the edge, your head falling back as you came with your lips parted in a silent scream. “Bet you would let Prongs bend you over the table and fuck you in front of everyone too, hm?” 

You failed to meet their eyes.

Remus grinned. “Our shy little whore.”

“All ours,” Sirius grinned back.

.

[descendantsramblings]

one For Maleficent x Fem!reader where the reader is maybe a goody-two-shoes like bridget who is very interested in Maleficent and in her style and just wants to befriend her, Maleficent finds it kind of Cute how the reader is so interested in her and decides to Actually approach the reader and try to mess with her but end up actually liking her

As someone who is also fascinated in how they dressed young Maleficent I’m so ecstatic to work on this :) I’m making the reader an artist and the villains (mainly Mali) her muses, I hope that’s alright. Also if this isn't what you wanted please feel free to reach out to me to retry love.

Stylized

Maleficent x Artist!Reader

Pronouns used: she/her/hers

Summary: Artistry is the finest form of flattery, and Maleficent’s style leaves her as a hero’s newest muse.

Warnings: minor swearing, Maleficent is fully convinced that she’s being stalked, and I mean I guess in a way she is, reader is a sweetie but also a touch of a tease, she kisses Morgie’s cheek once but it’s in the way you’d kiss a toddler on the top of their head when you tell them goodnight

Word count: 2.4K

     Maleficent could feel her eyes everywhere. The courtyard during lunch, in the few classes she chose to attend, in the hallways, and on occasion even at the black lagoon after school. It made her feel like she was going crazy. Before this semester, Maleficent hadn’t so much as seen the bubbly girl and now she was being haunted by her. She was everywhere, always with some Polaroid camera or a sketchbook and it was driving her mad. It wasn’t just her, it couldn’t be. She could see the way she ogled at Hook, the careful glances she threw to Hades. Even sending focused adoring eyes to Uliana. But it was like she was the only one who could feel the girl. As if she was hyper attuned to the pastel princess’s watchful eye. 

    And now there she was with her -well, Maleficent wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to call Morgie le Fay a friend. But he was hers, he belonged to them. Yet there he was leaning over the girl's shoulder, hands resting on either side of her looking at something. The display was too cozy in Maleficent’s eyes. His chin rested on her head, moving every so often as if he was speaking. He probably was, the boy would talk to anyone who’d listen. If she cared to move, she’d see the adoring wonder in the boy’s eyes, greedily eating up what the girl was showing him. Had Morgie gone and got himself a princess? The boy was always soft but that would be a new level. Perhaps that could explain her following them around though. Had she seen Morgie leave them to go to her instead? She couldn’t recall a time. 

    Slowly, as if they’d startle like strays, the pixie approaches the table. If she’s lucky she won’t attract her new found stalker’s attention. She simply had to know what the girl had Morgie so enamored with, nothing more. 

    “No, the way you did her eyes there,” he points at something on the page, “it’s like she’s glowing. It’s gorgeous.” “Thank you,” she looks at her watch and gasps, slamming what Maleficent could now see was some sort of notebook- a sketchbook-closed. “I have to get going, promised Bridget I’d help her with this new dandelion potion frosting she’s trying out. It’s supposed to make you have less of a center of gravity, they’re gonna be so cool,” she giggles, placing a sweet playful kiss on the villain kid’s cheek as she stands up. Briefly the girl looks over at Maleficent, looking her up and down with a smile before waving. Morgie slides out of the way, letting the princess wiggle through, her book pressed firm to her chest. “Bye, (Y/n)! Steal me a cupcake!” She giggles, turning to walk backwards for a moment so she can wink at him, “Bye Morgie. Nice to see you, Maleficent!” Nice to see her? They hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t interacted. Was every pastel princess in this school as bubbly as Bridget? Weirdo.

    “Well that explains why the girl is stalking us, doesn’t it? Went and got yourself a little princess, did you? I was wondering why I’d never seen her before she started following us around, but that just might make sense. Seems you have a lot of explaining to do, le Fay,” she snatches his wrist, damn near dragging the boy, yelling at him as if she’s his disappointed mother. Wait until Uliana got a load of this, their weakest link with a princess. “What are you talking about, Mali? (Y/n) isn’t stalking us, she’s just using us for a project.” “A project?” As if that was any better to her.

                                   ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

     Maleficent storming in with Morgie stumbling behind her was no rare sight at the Black Lagoon.Truly the boy was often in that position, if not tripping in her shadow, it was Uliana’s.  Grip firm on his wrist as she swings him forward, presenting him to their fellow villains. “Well, go on then,” she prompts, poking a well manicured finger against his spine, “Tell them what you did.” It causes the rest of the room to stir, eyes falling on the boy. “It’s really not that big of a deal! I don’t understand your issue with it,” he retaliates, catching the way Uliana rolls her eyes at the duo. 

    “You tell them or I will.” “Fine,” he snatches his wrist away, going to sit beside Hook, “Tell them.” The boy spares him a look as he falls into the seat. Morgie shrugging to him as he leans their shoulders together.  “Genius here,” she sneers, eyes squinted at the boy, “Gave some princess permission to do a whole class project on us.” Maleficent’s eyes fall on Uliana, waiting for some sort of punishment for the boy. For her to scream, kick him out, anything. Instead, the sea witch rolls her eyes, “Are you talking about (Y/n)? Yeah we knew about that.” A disgruntled huff leaves the dark pixie’s lips. “You all knew about it?” “Well, yeah. I was with Morgie when she asked. It’s a compliment. The girl would make a fabulous painter if she wasn’t so set on a fashion degree. The detail she puts into my hair when she draws me is killer.” Uliana rolls her eyes, going back to the game of Uno that a member of Hook’s crew had her previously wrapped up in. 

    For the briefest moment, Hook’s polishing hand stills, eyes flickering to Maleficent’s rigid frame. “If it makes you feel better, Mali, I didn’t know either. She doesn’t do my eyes too far apart, does she? The last bloke who painted me made me look like a sloth.” Morgie laughs, shaking his head. Hook goes back to his work, shaking his head as he speaks, “Then I don’t mind. I should go see the lassie’s work sometime.” Desperate for someone else to be mad with her, the girls eyes fall to Hades. An odd plea to them that makes him almost feel bad. He puts out the flame he’s playing with, crossing his arms as he looks at her with a stoic expression. 

    “You knew too?” “Well yeah. She sits next to me in Magical history. She’s a lot, never shuts up, but she’s one hell of an artist,” he shakes his head, “How did you two not know? She’s been following us around to paint us for weeks.” Hook laughs, “I just thought she had a little crush on one of us.” Brows crinkling he tacks on a, “Since when do you actually go to Magical History?” “We’re learning about Greek Mythology. Like hell I’d miss a chance to go to a lesson about myself. It’s a good project, it’s AP traditional art, I believe. Theme is something like ‘the greyscale of villainy’. It’s impressive.” “Yeah I don’t get that,” Morgie points a lazy finger in the air, “How is it the greyscale of villainy if she’s using color?” Hades brings a hand up to his face, rubbing over it as he sighs, “It’s like when someone says, ‘everything isn’t always black or white’ not the colors.” 

   “Oh so she’s saying we’re not truly evil? She’s so sugary sweet that she thinks everyone has to have some sort of goodness to them?” She’s pretty sure the words Hades says in response are some sort of Greek swears as he shakes his head. “It’s a compliment, Maleficent. You above any of us should see it that way. She’s so enamored with you and the way you dress, it’s ridiculous. The way (Y/n) draws you could start another Trojan war. She thinks you’re the coolest person at this school. Relax a little bit.” She stamps her foot, on the verge of a tantrum and turning to leave, “I never asked for that!” 

                                  ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

     It was disgusting, the way villains were falling over her. The girl was sitting with Hook leaning on her shoulder, wiping a stray smear of frosting off his lip as she showed him her work. And the adoring look on his face was disgusting, the pirate laying it on thick as he complimented her. Pointing to different things on the page with a smile. There was no way she was that good. They were evil, they were supposed to be awful to her  not cooing over some prissy pink princess with paint splatters on her hands. How good could her work possibly be that she had every villain in that school falling at her feet? 

    Maleficent had enough of it, slamming her palms against the courtyard table to force herself up. “What, pray tell, do you think you’re doing?” Hades’ head lulls back on his neck so he can look at her as he speaks. “I’m going to go see what could possibly be so good that she has you lot falling at her feet.” As temperamental as ever she storms over to the girl and her friend, barking at Hook to move. “Now Lass, is that how we talk to our friends?” He smirks up at her, a look of adoration still hanging on his features. A vibrant flash of green lights up her eyes and he throws his arms up in surrender, no use trying to fight her. “Well, Lass,” he gets up as he speaks, smiling down at the girl, “If she gives you any trouble you just shout.” She laughs, shaking her head, “I’ll be okay, Hook, don’t you worry about me.” 

   Her gaze turns to the pixie, looking her up and down with a bright smile, “Hi! You look so pretty today, those tights are absolutely gorgeous.” Her eyes meet Maleficent’s again and the girl falters. “You don’t,” she raises a brow, eyes flickering between the girl and her sketchbook, “You don’t find me scary?” “Scary?” She pats the seat beside her, flicking through pages in her sketchbook as her tongue slips across her lips, “Goodness no, you’re devine. I mean the angles of your face and bangs and the way you dress are exactly why I wanted you and your friends to be the subjects of my portfolio.” She stops on a page, sliding it between them as Mali sits beside her, head tilted as she stares. “I mean, the joy on your face while Hades was speaking was so, captivating. And then your outfits, your style is just stunning. The deep rich colors and layered textures. All the chains and patterns and tights, you’re a study all on your own.” The page before her was a week worth of outfits, details perfectly done down to her last accessories. She hated how right Hades was, the way she’d drawn her was gorgeous. Potentially even prettier than she actually was. She could play with this, if the girl wants to worship her, she’d let her. 

       “What do you expect to gain from this?” She hums, turning to Maleficent with her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” “I mean, is this like, your version of the treats or something?” her laugh is almost musical, fitting for a princess she assumes. “Well, I’m hoping for a passing grade. If I happen to befriend anyone from it, that’s just an exciting bonus. I mean, I got Morgie but I think that’s a pretty easy thing to do.” Her eyes look over the girl with a twinkle in them. “It is, you could draw him in with a bowl of milk like a stray.” A hand finds its way on top of Maleficent’s following the arm attached she’s met with a playful smile, “What does it take to draw you in?” The smile that crosses her lips betrays her, maybe this girl wasn’t too bad. Annoying, definitely annoying, but she had a charm to her. “How about you paint me one on one? Since you seem so dedicated to the craft.” 

                                   ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

     This was ridiculous. She thought she’d be able to make the girl uncomfortable or something by just being there. The outfit she had on was nothing new to her technically, if she thought about it the page the girl had shown her earlier included every piece she was wearing. But she had more skin exposed, in her mind a girl that sweet and innocent should have squirmed at the sight. Innocent or not, the girl seemed ecstatic, saying something about getting to work more on shading skin. Instead of being uncomfortable, the artist was staring at her in adoration, giving her minor commands as she paints her. Turn your head a little more to the left. Actually can you shift right just a little bit? If you do it makes the latex on those shorts shine better. She was so dedicated, so adoring in her work. It was hard not to admire it. Maybe Uliana was right to be okay with this. Maleficent had never felt this interesting in her life. It felt as if she was the only thing in the world. 

    “So,” she pauses, letting out a slow breath, “You want to be a designer?” “Yeah,” she nods slightly, something the pixie only catches out of the corner of her eye. “I uh, I love the way that fabric gives itself away to art. In my heart it’s ballgowns.” Ball gowns huh? Then what was the appeal of her? “Shouldn’t your project focus on princesses then?” She tuts, leaning down to grab more purple paint from the cart on her side. “No, they all wear the same things. That’s your appeal, the clashing fabrics and richer colors, you stand out. I like that, I want to take things like that into account in my work.” It earns her a giggle, when was the last time Maleficent had genuinely giggled? “So like, a leather ball gown? Interesting sight.” “No, but come on, you’re telling me you wouldn’t be excited by a ball gown that fits a style as interesting as yours existing? Even villains like feeling pretty, don’t they?” 

    If she thought about it too much, the pixie knew that’s the real reason she was here. The way the princess looked at her was precious, silly of course. But, it made her feel pretty. The way she was painted made her feel stunning. And she hoped that the warmth she could feel in her cheeks wasn’t visible. “Is it almost done? I want to see it.” “Really? Hook said you hated the idea of my portfolio.” Damnit Hook. “Yeah well,” her words fall flat, waving her hand around in the air. “Well?” “Well, maybe I changed my mind. Am I not allowed to do that?” She laughs, getting up and turning the canvas around, “Are you saying I’m winning you over, Maleficent?” Her eyes drink in the canvas, the woman who looked back at her was stunning. Surely it was supposed to be her but something about her was prettier. It was like she’d been painted into a god. Where did she learn to paint like that? “I’m saying there’s potential there. You have charisma.” She giggle, placing the canvas down before walking over to the pixie. Her finger tapping the tip of  her pale nose with a smile as she watches the blush on the girl’s cheeks darken. “Whatever you say, gorgeous. But if you ask me, it surely looks like you’re starting to like me just as much as Morgie does.” “Do not push your luck, Princess.”

[fanfics-with-coffee]

To be kind, To be a fool

This has only been proofread and edited by a sleep deprived me sooooo, I also wrote it in a daze from 1AM to 6AM. I'm back in my Baldurs Gate 3 hole and I've been so very inspired from so many other fanfic writers I got back on this blog

You did it, you saved the prisoners from Moonrise Towers and everybody is back, safe and sound at least for tonight. You and Astarion are holding back from the festivities, instead talking about your act of heroism and why you do it. You say you choose to be kind for who else will, he says you're choosing to be a fool for what else is kindness if not foolish.

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort Pairing: Astarion x reader Words: 4400

Its doubtful if Last Light Inn had been quite so lively as when you returned in the raggedy old boat with the prisoners from Moonrise Towers. Once they had been cleared, everyone had ran to their loved ones or simply rejoiced in the warmth of the fire, ever burning away the darkness that threatened to creep inside any crevice it could get it's cold claws into. And of course they soothed their dry throats with the little wine and ale that was left behind when the shadow curse had blanketed the land. The two boys manning the bar were running around relentlessly, trying their best to fill every empty goblet and mug they could spot, leaving no one without a drink. It’d probably only be hours before Jaheira had to call it a night so they wouldn’t run out of the little liquid joy they had left. But until then, the celebrations were loud and proud.

For a moment, things were bright, despite the dark sky. 

“What a ruckus, you could almost think that Lathander himself had been in attendance.” Astarion mused, one hand gracefully swirling a glass of wine while the other rested on his upper arm. He was leaning against the wall beside you in a corner of the inn that hadn’t been filled with people. Not that it was difficult, even with the prisoners free it was barely enough to fill the tables and chairs. You smiled, watching the tieflings try to catch up after the devastating nights apart. 

“If Lathander was here, I think there’d be a lot more dancing on tables and a lot more wine.”

“True… And a lot more fucking.” Astarion replied with that signature cheeky smile he always pulls when he’s said something salacious or teasing. You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, nodding along to his line of thought. He wasn’t wrong. 

“You’re probably right. Well at least we could let these people see another dawn, I think in a sense maybe Lathander really is here.” You pull your eyes from the happy faces and let them reflect in your mug of ale before downing another mouthful of it. The smooth, delicate taste of honey coats your tastebuds and leaves a pleasant warmth in your stomach.

“I didn’t take you for the god honoring type, you know? Besides, these people didn’t need Lathander, they had their own little ray of sunshine coming to their rescue anyways. Our own little goody-two-shoe altruist in shining armor.” He teases you, reminding you that there weren’t any gods in the belly of Moonrise Towers. Yet beneath the lighthearted tone you detected something else, a familiar bitterness and disapproval that he had given you before. That he gave you whenever you did something ‘too nice’, ‘too self sacrificing’ or ‘too cheaply’. You had long ago started ignoring it, instead taking it as a sign you probably did the right thing.

“Mmmh, mayhaps. I mean we were there anyways, and I wouldn’t have wanted to be left there to the Absolutists if I was stuck either.” You give him an answer you know he’ll hate and you made sure to slather some extra kindness in there as well just to really make a point. “And I find enough reward in watching these people.”

Astarion rolls his eyes hard enough you worry they’re gonna get stuck to the back of his head. You watch him, unable to hold in a laugh as he pretends to vomit from how ‘disgustingly sweet’ you are. You don’t say anything for a moment as he lets his eyes roam the room, the soft light of the torches reflecting upon his white locks of hair. You can see the disgust in his eyes as he watches them, and you could only guess as to why he felt so strongly about your acts of kindness. 

“I can’t wait to see the day you realize that none of these people would do the same for you… When someone betrays your kindness and I can stand there and laugh, telling you ‘I told you so’.”

He says it nonchalantly, as if it’s a fact. He let’s his own hatred for the world seep through every syllable yet he hides it behind a face that says he doesn’t care. You expected comments like this to come from him, you expected resistance to helping the helpless. Yet something about his words right now makes your chest tighten in anger, the notion that you were simply too stupid to realize that not everyone was kind. That he was maybe smarter and more experienced than you for seeing the cruelness in the world. You turn sharply to face him, slamming your mug down a little too harshly on a table close by. Astarions eyes meet yours, he never expected you to react like this, you had never before raised your voice at him. The air has grown tense. 

“Astarion, I am kind. I am not a fool, and you should do well to remember that there is a difference.” Your words are sharp yet you’re thankful no one else has seemed to notice you two. “I know that people will hurt me, and betray me. That people will not always do the same as I would’ve done. But if I don’t help, then who will? I have the power to make a change and I’ve chosen to use that power. You don’t have to agree, but you’re not allowed to tell me that I am wrong for deciding to be kind.”

He can see the hurt in your eyes as you correct him. That it’s not a question about your own navïte making you help others, but the fact you put conscious effort into being kind, despite the risk it has. Cold, uncomfortable embarrassment washes over him like ice water. A feeling he despises and so he sets it alight with anger instead, feeling himself burn with it as he finds himself again. His fingers clench around the half empty glass of wine he continues to hold onto. Thoughts swirl around in his head, trying to find the ones that will hurt the most, a painful payback for embarrassing him.

“And pray tell what is the difference? You waste not just your own time helping these idiots, but ours too. We were here to find a cure, yet all we’ve done is listen to sob stories and rescue people who will most likely die on the road to Baldurs Gate anyways. What kind of fool would waste so much energy and time on things that will lead to the exact same result anyways, I believe that’s actually what people call insanity.” He makes himself appear taller as he pushes himself off the wall and stands in front of you, scowling as he meets your gaze. 

How dare you tell him that he’s wrong? After 200 years of cruel torment and nights spent around people who could not give less of a shit about him, you’re telling him there’s people out there that care? And if so then it’s even worse, because that would mean no one simply knew he was in pain. Was Astarions own torment not enough for people to even notice?

No, he knows what he went through. No one cares about others' torment unless there’s something in it for them, even if just so they could feel a little better about themselves and comes at no expense of theirs. It’s always just about ourselves, Astarion just skips the other steps and puts himself first. Why could you just not do the same? Why did you have to go out of your way for anyone else?

“Fine, call me a fool. Insane, även. Say what you want about me, Astarion, but I will always choose to be kind. I’m sorry no one made that choice for you before, I am. B-”

“Do not tell me about kindness, y/n, there is no altruistic kindness like the one you speak of it’s a performance people put on for others.” His words are cold and sharp, they bite into your heart in much the same way his teeth pierce your skin. Painful. “We should all put ourselves first, it’s what everyone wants to do anyways! Skip the damn pleasantries and just be honest about it at the very least. I’m tired of having to look beyond the kindness just to see their true intentions.”

He’s rambling without thinking, remembering all the kind words and touches he’s received just because someone wanted to get in his pants. All the faux acts of kindness he watched Cazador perform so he could get what he wanted, or even just to make sure whatever cruel act he had in mind would hurt even more. All the nights in the beginning where he debated how he could save a victim, just to realize he’d get nothing but pain in return. The kind acts he himself performed in hopes of receiving something kind in return. 

The way he seduced you just to make sure he had safe passage to Baldurs Gate, to a cure. 

You were left speechless, caught off-guard by the outburst of emotions. You knew he was selfish but this was rooted deeper and maybe you should’ve realized when he had finally told you about Cazador and his ‘siblings’. You clenched your hands, trying to find something to refute his points. To prove him wrong. Yet you have nothing of worth to sooth his pain. He sees your hesitations and assumes he’s finally gotten through to you, he’s won. His red eyes leave yours to once again look at the others smiling faces, not wanting you to see the disappointment grow in him as he realizes he was right.

“So you’ve never been kind just to be kind?”

“No. Never.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, letting the motion tilt his head back as he finally raises his glass of wine, downing the rest of it. The sudden action makes the glass flow over the corners of his mouth and the deep red liquid coats his chin and drips down on his chest, staining the white fabric of his shirt. It bleeds into the criss-cross stitching and travels further down before he has time to react. 

You gasp and grab an old handkerchief stuffed in your pocket, quickly moving to try and save his favorite shirt. It's instinctual, thoughtless. Even when you’re mad at him and even though he’s furious at you, you try to help him. As soon as the cloth touches him, shame spreads like a disease through him, regret taking root in his chest somewhere where his beating heart should’ve been. 

He hates it.

“Don’t touch me.” He bites back, snatching the handkerchief from your hand to do the job himself. You instantly step back, putting your hands up to make sure you give him space.

“Tsk, I’m going to bed. Good night, y/n.” He’s aggressively dabbing at the stain as he starts walking away, trying to soak up as much as possible but it’s clear it's a useless endeavor, it will forever remain stained.

“Astarion!” You call out to him before he gets too far and he stops momentarily, turning to finally look at you. 

He’s met with pity reflecting off of your eyes in the lowly lit room. 

He hates it.

You say something else but suddenly the sounds of the celebrations drown out whatever it was. He doesn’t even try to listen and simply turns around to find the room that he had been given as a thank you from Jaheira. He didn’t need your pity, he didn’t tell you about his past because he wanted your pity, anyone would feel pity for him if he told them what had happened to him. He wanted you to… care. Foolishly, he wanted you to care about him, about what had happened to him. He wanted you to listen to his issues and maybe, just maybe, you’d want to help him like you helped everyone else around you. And maybe you’d do something without asking for anything in return. 

Yet tonight, he reminded himself that no such thing as true kindness existed. And to expect you to care about him despite who he was at his core was foolish itself. Your kindness came at a cost he hadn’t even thought about; You expected him to change in return for your kindness. He was mean, he was selfish and he wouldn’t let you change him for anything.

He turns to close the door to the room he was staying in, the feeling of his shirt clinging to his chest uncomfortable and wet. Astarions eyes find you in the same corner he left you, yet your eyes didn’t meet. Gale and Karlach had come up to you, pulling your attention to them. You had quickly started smiling and laughing again, one hand on Karlachs shoulder in a calming manner. 

Why had he even let himself hope that you would follow after him?

He closed the door.

The hours dragged on, the darkness in the Shadowlands making day and night nearly indistinguishable. The only thing that made time feel real was the ever waning torches, slowly burning out. And while you felt like it must’ve been a fortnight of drinking, laughing and talking, it can’t actually have been more than three hours based on how many torches had already burned out and been replaced. You had been convinced to join Karlach by the grill, Wyll telling stories of his time as the Blade of Frontiers in the soft glow. You listened and laughed, at points discussing the actual validity of these stories. But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t let the thought of Astarion go. He hadn’t left the room he was staying in, all alone in there, perhaps still trying to clean the shirt he always seemed to wear. 

As people finally sated themselves and found their companions, the celebrations died down to  a quiet mumble amongst those unable to sleep. The children had long ago been told to head to bed, only occasionally peeking their heads out from the dorm or coming out to ask for a late night snack. Jaheira herself had taken over the bartending but was now stuck pleasantly talking with some fists that had sat down after their patrol shift. Even most of your companions had headed to bed, either in the dorm or at camp depending on their preference, Astarion had specifically called dibs on the single private room. 

“Well, I think it’s best I call it a night as well!” Karlach stood up and stretched her muscular arms over her head. “You should do the same, soldier, can’t have our tactician getting sloppy!” She smiled at you, expectantly putting her hands on her hips as she waited for you to stand up and walk with her.

“Oh, I think I’m going to stay up just a little more. I’m sorta enjoying the quiet murmur in here, and I haven’t really had the time to speak with Jaheira since we came back.” You lied, trying to give her a convincing smile. But you couldn’t hold her eyes with yours, instead turning your head to watch the door to Astarions room, trying to make it look casual. 

“Riiight… You know, I don’t know what’s going on between you and fangs but I wouldn’t take anything he says to heart. He’s sorta dumber than he wants us to think, so whatever he told you… Eh well, I dunno, I’m not the smartest myself.” She laughs at herself, the alcohol having had an effect on her after quite a few bottles. “But I am the strongest! So if he needs  a good assbeating then I’m here for ya. I know he can say some pretty rude stuff at times even if he doesn’t mean it. What is it people say? Hurt people, hurt people?”

“You’re right Karlach...” You smile at her, she may say that she’s not smart but she knows people better than most. “But it’s fine between me and Astarion, we just had a disagreement but it’s nothing to worry about, I don’t think. Though I know an assbeating wouldn’t help, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Well if you say so, soldier! I’ll see you in the morning then I guess.” She gives you a hard pat on your back before leaving, yawning loudly as she walks towards the dorm room, softly ‘shoo’-ing another tiefling child back into the room.

You spend some time just watching the embers of the firepit burn, feeling the heat hitting your face in waves and drying out your lips. You drink the last of the wine in your cup and lick your lips, standing from the stool to leave the empty cup at the bar. Your eyes find the wooden door again and you spend a long moment debating if it’s a good idea. Facing Astarion right now would be awkward and draining, it would even risk you two blowing up at each other again. Yet you know he was hurt, that much was obvious.

The knock is soft and you’re uncertain if he could even hear it over the sound of the fireplace in the room. You consider that maybe he had gone to bed in the end, it had been hours since you saw him after all. 

“Astarion? Can I come in?” You call out softly, afraid to wake him if he was in trance but wanting to give it at least one more shot before you give up. It takes a moment but suddenly the door opens ever so slightly, just enough to let you know it was open but not enough to see him in the doorway. You take that as a ‘yes’ and carefully push it open further. You hadn’t even heard his footsteps come to the door nor leave, yet when you slip through the crack of the door he’s sitting on the bed. The room is dark, long shadows being cast from the dying fire. The moon lights up his pale skin and even paler hair, reflecting off of him as a glow. His legs are crossed and he’s leaned back on his hands, his chest exposed. He looks as if he’s made of marble, his chest doesn’t even move with breaths as you watch him, a quirk of his vampirism you’ve realized. You make sure to close the door behind you, never turning away. 

Neither of you say anything. There’s a book open  next to him on the bed, it’s the sequel of some book he had picked up early on in your adventure. You had gotten the sequel for him after he expressed his enjoyment for the first one, it had cost you a gold but it was worth it. You stare at it, unwilling to meet his gaze directly. Yet his is firmly placed on you, indifferent and icy.

“Well? Were you just here to get your handkerchief back or did you want something?” He spoke first, raising an eyebrow.

“...Is it as good as the first book?” You ask, finally looking him in the eyes. He furrows his brows before he looks at the book next to him, realizing what you meant.

“It’s decent. I liked the twist in the first book so it has a lot to live up to, but it’s an enjoyable read. But I’m sure you’re not here for some midnight book club so out with it. What do you want?” He’s clearly pushing you away, but the fact that he opened the door when he heard it was you must mean he’s willing to listen.

“I wanted to come see how you were doing. Did you manage to get the stain out of your shirt?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And no, I did not, I will have to try to find someone who knows prestidigitation to get it out, I believe. Now if you excuse me, I’d quite like to get back to my bo-” He’s about to pick his book back up, clearly done with the conversation if you weren’t going to get to any point.

“I also wanted to apologize.” 

He raises an eyebrow and looks at you, giving you his full attention and newfound interest in the conversation.

“I snapped at you, and while I don’t think I was in the wrong for doing that-” He rolls his eyes, making it clear he disagrees with you but he lets you keep talking. “I shouldn’t have made it sound like being kind was an effortless choice and that you always can and should choose. It’s not easy every single time. So I’m sorry.” You try to gauge his reaction, see if he gives you any sort of response. He doesn’t at first, his face difficult to make out in the drastic lighting. The distance between you may only be a couple meters but right now you feel like there's kingdoms between you.

“...You say that yet you make it seem so damn easy. You never question why someone needs help, if it’s their own fault for getting themselves in that situation. You never assume people have any other intentions than what they tell you up front. You’re kind as effortlessly as some breathe.” He spits out the words as if they’re venom, once again speaking as if he believes you’re a fool. “Even to me, you’re kind. You ask me about my wounds, if I like the books I read, if I’m comfortable, where I learned to sew… I thought you were just trying to get in my bed at first, something I’m used to. I’ve given my body to countless ‘kind souls’, but now I’ve realized you just want me to be another victim you saved. Another person you’ve fixed. So you can play hero and get all the love and praise that entails. ‘Hero of Faerûn saves poor vampire spawn! Look at this poor sucker!’” He uses his hands to show off the fake headlines.

“Pun intended.” There's a sarcastic smile on his face as he stands up, grabbing your bloodied and wine stained handkerchief from the bed table before approaching you.

“That’s not why I did those things, Astarion, please. I care about you, just liste-”

“Well jokes on you, your kindness has been wasted on me. I’ve used you for my own gain, you know?” He throws your handkerchief against your chest, forcing you to clutch it so as to not let it fall. “I played with you just as easily as any other poor fool I’d find in Baldurs Gate’s whorehouses. You were ridiculously easy, just a few kind words and charming smiles and you were wrapped around my finger! Not that I blame you, have you seen me? I’m hard to resist. But it’s time to drop the pleasantries, the kindness, you’ve just been a tool for me to find a way to survive and I’ve just been another notch in your belt. But I am not another helpless pawn for you to feel good about ‘fixing’. I am pessimistic, I am selfish, I am merciless and I am cruel, and you won’t ever be able to change that.” He finally finishes his monologue, still forgetting to mimic the act of breathing as he stands before you in eerie silence. There’s a sense of vulnerability within his eyes despite his posture. Like a cornered animal lashing out in a desperate attempt to be left alone, to not be hurt.

You’re standing close to him now, mere decimeters away from each other's bodies. Yours heated and warm and his forever cold to the touch. You move slowly when you finally decide what you want to say, what you need him to realize. His eyes notice your hand raising and he tenses up even further, preparing him for what? He’s not sure. Then your hand reaches his face, softly cupping his cheek with your palm. Your heat exchanges with his, your hand slowly warming his skin while yours cools to the touch. He’s in shock, unable to say or do anything, just watching your face to try and read what your intentions are.

“I’ve tried to tell you, even before you went in here. I will always choose to be kind to you, Astarion, just as you are.”

He finally sucks in air, his lips parting to make sure his lungs fill fully and it’s as if it's his first breath since he died in that alley. That’s what you had tried to tell him before he left. You smile, moving your hand to brush a strand of his hair out of his face, observing his features. The dark, angry and nearly sadistic expression he carried before when he was trying to hurt you has washed away, leaving only the face of a lost young man standing before you. Eyes wide and mouth agape as you fully brushed off all the cruel things he said to you. Could he do nothing to scare you away, force you to back off? Keep you locked out of his heart?

He closes his mouth finally, eyes cast down to the floor as shame once again flowers in his chest, the thorns digging into every nerve.

“Even when I make it a difficult choice?” He asks quietly, shyly.

“Yes, even when it’s a difficult choice. But I don’t find it difficult to care for you Astarion. If you let me… I wouldn’t even find it difficult to love you.” You laugh a little, the question was silly to you after all. 

“You really are a fool.” A smile forms on his lips, the smile lines you’ve always adored finally showing themselves and his eyes as softening. He could never understand you, you’d never make sense to him. No matter how many times he thinks he has you pegged, you always go over and beyond his expectations. And once he thinks you’ve reached your limit on kindness, he finds a little more, even for a monster like him. His hands, which had consistently remained at his sides until now, moved up to find your hips. Astarion pulled you in closer to him, soaking in your heat and digging his head into the crook of your neck. You can’t help but laugh again, loud and happy, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer to you.

“I will always be kind, even if it does make me a fool.”