You Picked the Lock to My Heart
Series Metadata
Listing Series
-
Tags
Summary
Wren. The Songbird. The Thieves Guild Assasin and Thief. But... how did they get like this? How did they become the guarded yet tender soul they are now?
OR
WREN BACKSTORY BECAUSE I AM A SELF-INDULGENT LITTLE LOZER!
Series
- Part 1 of You Picked the Lock to My Heart
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 838
- Chapters:
- 1/?
- Hits:
- 17
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Tags
Summary
Wren had never considered themself a particularly kind or decent person. It wasn’t really a factor in their line of work, members of the Thieves Guild had two primary jobs, killing and stealing. And tonight, they were hoping they would only be doing one of those things. It was a simple job, they didn’t even have backup waiting for them. They stared at the wall of the Szarr manor, their arms folded over each other, tapping their foot, swishing their tail back and forth. It was a calm, windless night, city patrol would pass soon, allowing the tiefling a window to leave the shadows and do their job.
(Or a fun-ish little idea I had over a rogue!Tav stealing something from Cazador's manor, seeing Astarion getting hurt and getting the urge to be a hero.)
Series
- Part 2 of You Picked the Lock to My Heart
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Tags
Summary
Wren walked to the stream, taking in the sound of the water gently rushing through. The soft sounds were calming, just what they needed after the fight from earlier. They took off their boots and peeled off their sweat-soaked socks. They took a moment to wash the socks in the river, before setting them on a tree branch to dry. They took off their trousers next, giving them a quick wash in the river before leaving them to dry as well.
They continued the routine until they were completely nude, and their clothes were sopping wet and hanging on a tree branch. They waded into the river with the soap and comb in hand. Wren’s body was a tapestry of scars. A lot of scars from old fights that had long since been stitched together, including a pair of mastectomy scars on their chest. They sat down, the water now at their waist. Slowly, the tiefling worked the dirt, grime, and blood off their purple skin. They hummed a tune to themself as they did, and as the water began to be stained red, they properly sang to themself.
(OR)
A series of one-shots about my Tav (Wren) rediscovering their love for singing (because of one very poetic vampire) after repressing that love for many years.
Series
- Part 3 of You Picked the Lock to My Heart
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Tags
Summary
It angered Astarion to no end. By all means, Wren would’ve been an easy mark. They had a bleeding heart, which was quite unbecoming for someone in their line of work. They had rescued him after seeing him hurt once. And yet he hadn’t so much as kissed them. By all accounts, he should have bedded them days ago. He should have felt their infernally hot flesh against his cold, dead, skin. It drove him mad. If not his body, what in the hells did Wren want him for?
OR
Exploring the idea of Astarion being in an asexual relationship with my Tav, Wren. (This idea has not left my mind for so long you have no idea)
Series
- Part 4 of You Picked the Lock to My Heart