Fuel for your Astarion daydreams:
his dexterous fingers playing absentmindedly along your hip, pausing only to squeeze you gently
his lips leaving an icy trail down your neck, pressing firmly against your quickening pulse
his fangs nipping gently at your shoulder as he pulls you closer, as if craving you more than your blood
his rich, red eyes catching yours from across a tavern, brightening imperceptibly at your attention
his voice, lowered to no more than a whisper in your ear, his tone teasing as he utters something naughty to you
his soft white curls brushing against your face as he leans closer to you, teasing you with a kiss that doesn't quite reach
his ears flushing pink as you unabashedly murmur words of love and longing
his nose burying into your hair as he takes in your familiar, now comforting scent
his laugh, rumbling through his body and into yours as you lay in each others' arms
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thinking of a witch/fae radiostatic au after rereading some of my guilty pleasure fandom fics hhhhhnneuhg
basically the gist of it is, unseelie king alastor gets kidnapped by witch vox's village and now vox needs to figure out how to keep alastor from dying because his death means the rest of the court coming for blood while also trying to make sure the fae king doesnt try and fucking eat him or something. oh also they knew each other before.
Vox's mother always used to say, there's comfort in routine.
Perhaps that's why Vox finds himself redoing the same three-card spread over and over, despite always managing to get the same results. He chews on his fingernails as he frowns harder, reshuffling once more.
"Whatcha doing?" Angel Dust, the only other witch in the village, pops up behind him, startling Vox, who sighs and relaxes once he realizes who's behind him. "I thought you were busy helping the healers, man. Are you just doing tarot readings while we're working ourselves ta' the bone?"
Vox frowns, pressing his lips together.
He doesn't have anything against Angel, really, it's just difficult talking to people who aren't Vel or Val. And maybe it's more difficult talking to Angel because of his relationship with Val, but that isn't something he's willing to admit in front of his best friend's boyfriend. "Well, I got basically put on house arrest today because apparently, the fae they brought back was so strong they didn't trust me not to get too interested in them and throw the whole plan off."
"Couldn't they've least stationed ya with the healers? You can serve that house arrest after we make sure no one's dead," Angel groans. "I mean, didya see the state everyone came back in?"
He had. Vox had watched with white knuckles as they'd brought Velvette and Valentino's unconscious forms across to the healers lodge and tents, doing and redoing protection spells around their home and the village wards. He had wanted to help as soon as he'd seen them, but the village chief had ordered for him specifically to stay home.
So he'd busied himself with tarot cards. But it seemed even that wasn't working out for him, because...
"Oh, shit. This is... a pretty fuckin' bad spread, ain't it?"
"You tell me," Vox grouses. He shuffles the cards again and tries another time, only for those same three cards to appear again as if mocking him. Three of Swords. The Tower. And of course, Death.
Now, of the three, death was probably the most positive card of the spread. All it meant was change- not necessarily as dark as its name. But the tower and three of swords... well. Those only spelt out foreboding fates.
"What didya even ask?"
"It's about the fae they brought in." Vox taps his hand against the counter before starting to reorganize his cards. No sense in leaving them out now, after all: their message had been clear and simple. This was a mistake. You're all fucked. "Apparently, they're on par with royalty. Which as you can probably guess, isn't very well known for their kind tempers. So I was doing readings to try and see what might happen from keeping them here, and..."
Angel grimaces. "So... you're saying that we're fucked, basically?"
"You can do your own reading if you want," Vox says cryptically as he stands up, stretching his limbs. "Anyway, I'm going to go and strengthen the protection shield on the village wards. Not much else to do while I'm stuck here, anyway."
"Right... well, guess I'll see ya round then."
"Mm, see you."
When Angel leaves, Vox breathes a sigh of relief. He unclenches his hand to regard the skeleton key he'd stolen from the chief hours earlier on complete autopilot, hardly even realizing he'd taken the damn thing til he'd gotten back home and started performing frantic readings.
It was the key to the village cellar, a place located on the edge of town. Vox, Val and Vel lived closest to it- which worked out well, considering of the three of them, two were part of the village's elite fae hunting brigade and the last was one of the villages only two witches, and the more experienced one at that. He supposed, given the circumstances, that the fae who'd beaten his friends to a pulp was probably down there. And, well... Vox was nothing if deathly curious.
So that night, on a half moon, Vox quietly exits the house, being sure not to accidentally trip an alarm on the way. He makes his way to the outdoors cellar and unlocks the door, making his way downstairs into a damp and cramped room. His eyes are immediately drawn to the large iron cage hanging in the dead centre of the room, sucking in a breath as he takes a small step back. The cage is impressive, but what's inside of it...
A mass of shadows writhe and twist around a restrained figure, dispersing slightly around where the fae's eyes must be. Vox flinches back when a ghostly grey-black hand reaches out for him, its dark tipped claws so sharp he's sure the fae could have sliced him to ribbons had they not been restrained by their shackles and prison.
It serves its purpose: Vox is immediately and incredibly intimidated. Having said that, he came here for a reason, and he's not so much of a fucking coward that he'd simply flee with his tail between his legs at the first sight of an adverse reaction from the captured faerie.
"Hey, uh... I know you probably don't believe me- and you probably shouldn't, honestly, but- er, I'm here to help you. As much as I can, anyway." Vox raises his hands up in the air as he moves slowly toward the cage, keenly aware of the fae's fixed gaze on him all the while.
He reaches out and slowly, cautiously, places a small, dead rabbit on the precipice of the cage's platform. It was one he'd caught with a trap that afternoon, under the excuse of storing away fresh meat for Velvette and Valentino when they returned- but, well, there were other animals he'd caught, too. They wouldn't miss one tiny rabbit.
The shadow cloaked faerie regards the mound of fresh meat for only a second before jerking forwards and swallowing it whole.
Vox watches with rapt attention, mesmerized by the faeries brutality. He almost doesn't notice when the fae turns to address him, voice raw and scratchy and deeper than the ocean. "What did you do that for?"
"Cause..." Vox worries at his lip.
He doesn't really want to lie to the fae- he's not dumb, alright, that'd be a practical death wish, even if he was lying with good intent- but he's also not so sure how it will react to being told he only did it out of curiosity. Because he wanted to see just what it was that his reading deemed so dangerous to their little town. "I guess... I wanted to see what was so strong that they took down half the village guard."
The fae startles at this. The shadows surrounding their cage shrinks back a little, finally unveiling enough of their appearance for Vox to put a face to a... well, for Vox to get a good look at them.
Dark reddish brown hair with black streaks at the edges sharpen into pointed deer ears, with two short buck antlers growing from the fae's head. They have deep crimson eyes, tinged with flecks of bright green- it pairs well with their skin, a deep, rich brown that reminds Vox of rich autumn soil at the harvest. He's... pretty sure this fae is a man, but appearances can be deceiving, and he's not quite keen on being cursed for assuming blindly.
"Hm. Well, you weren't among the host that came to attack me, were you now?" The faerie's eyes narrow as Vox stutters out a faint no, babbling out excuses to lead them away from the conclusion of him being a witch (and thus always placed under pseudo-house arrest when time comes for a fae hunt). "Then, you don't realize what a mistake your village has made, do you, dear?"
Vox pauses. "What do you mean, mistake?"
The room's temperature drops almost the moment the question falls from his lips, and Vox pulls his cloak closer to himself as he distances himself from the cage, willing his arms to stop trembling as he watches. The shadows around the fae pull close again and coalesce into a cape of sorts, rising above the faerie as they entwine themselves around the fae's head, almost like- almost like-
A crown.
"Oh, shit."
The Unseelie Fae King gives Vox a tight lipped smile. "So, do you see now?"
Well. At least that answered what the tarot cards were trying to tell him.
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