#zevlor brings out the best in me i swear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nerdallwritey · 3 months ago

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Awfully Fond of You

Request: i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a little something for act 1, during the tiefling party for an autistic tav who has a crush on astarion but also has body insecurities + SA trauma, maybe instead of the usual scene that goes down they request to bathe with astarion instead? a tav with poor interoception (sense of awareness with one’s body) who loves to help and touch others but doesn’t quite register others touching them or how they feel about it but still craving intimacy with astarion is something i’m obsessed with (*^^*)*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* i love your writing style and NEVER request so im super nervous!! - 🪴 (Link to original request here).

Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Rating: 18+ - no smut, but mature themes Word Count: 7.7k CW: Very vague alludes to SA trauma, reader is a sweetie pie, Astarion is an idiot as always - No explicit smut this time; this one's mostly fluff! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3

a/n: Hello folks! I come bearing my very first request fulfillment! As you can tell from the ask, 🪴 anon wanted something very personal and sweet, and I'm incredibly honored that they chose me to see their vision come to life. I did my best to hit every beat they requested, while also staying true to my writing style, which, of course, means there's plenty of banter to be had. Yes, it is a bit similar to An Evening To Ourselves and Perfect Every Time (I swear I was in the middle of writing that one when I received this request), but I'm pleased with how this new remix of Astarion's Act 1 romance scene turned out! And yes, the title IS based on a lyric from everyone's favorite Sesame Street bath time song, "Rubber Duckie." HIT IT, BOYS! (Thank you, as always, to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) NOTE: This Tav is completely separate from bard!Tav and does not take place in the same universe as Beauty and the Bard. Part 5 of that coming soon! And my request box is open!

Without further ado, 🪴 anon, I hope you like it!

The air in camp was abuzz with laughter and cheer. Booze flowed into goblets and down throats, and smiles graced the faces of nearly every guest currently in attendance of the last minute celebration thrown together by you and your companions.

With the goblins and their leaders defeated in what turned out to be a rather difficult encounter, Halsin and Zevlor had insisted on celebrating with you and your party at your campsite before the tieflings made their way to Baldur’s Gate within the next few days.

Alfira supplied the evening with a somewhat constant stream of joyful songs, only stopping every so often to enjoy a drink with Lakrissa, while other tieflings danced and mingled with each other, relief and excitement making their shoulders relax as they reached for more goblets of wine.

You were in the process of making your rounds through the party; you’d shared a drink with Shadowheart, some jokes with Gale and Karlach, a quiet moment with Wyll, and a confusing conversation with Lae’zel about limbs being torn from a neogi? You weren’t entirely sure what those even were, but you had to assume they were a fearsome creature if Lae’zel was bringing it up.

That only left Astarion.

To be honest, you’d been avoiding him all night. Try as he might to catch your eye whenever you passed by, whether it be with a pointed clearing of his throat or a blatant call of your name, you would zero in on something else, and focus all your attention on that. Even if it meant sitting through an extended conversation with Volo.

But now, there was nowhere left to go. Unless you opted to avoid him completely. And that would only lead to questions from your companions that you wouldn’t know how to answer.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. No. In fact, it was the exact opposite. You liked him a lot. And you weren’t sure what to do about it.

Astarion was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and you were… you. You’d been you, your whole life, and knew for a fact that the pair of you were an odd couple. Where he was crass, you were kind. Where he was violent, you opted to talk things through.

And yet, you couldn’t help but enjoy spending time with him. His bloodlust was fascinating to watch, and you loved sparring both physically and verbally with him. More than once, you’d both saved the other’s ass in a sticky situation during battle. More than once, you’d allowed him to drink from you to ease his sanguine hunger.

You were pretty sure that at the very least, he considered you a friend, though you weren’t sure he’d ever directly admit that to you. Unlike Gale and Wyll, who often reminded you how much they appreciated your friendship, Astarion was much tougher to read. Yet despite his somewhat malicious name calling and disapproval towards your actions, you couldn’t help but feel that he had a soft spot for you. Even when you were telling him he couldn’t kill a man in cold blood, it seemed like he legitimately enjoyed your company. The thought made you smile softly.

Taking in a deep breath and straightening your posture, you finally willed yourself to approach the vampire.

His eyes lit up in that way they often did when he was preparing to tease you.

“There you are, darling,” he said, dramatically. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“Worried I’d leave you, huh?” you teased with a smirk.

Astarion tsked. “Perish the thought. But I recognize someone avoiding me when I see it.”

“Ah,” you clasped your hands in front of yourself, looking down at the ground, “you noticed that.”

“When I usually have to pry you away from me, yes, I noticed.” He took a swig of the wine he was holding.

You nodded and bobbed back and forth on your toes. “Best for last, I guess?” you shrugged your shoulders and smiled at him, hoping he’d drop the subject.

He hummed lamely.

“So,” you perked up, “are you enjoying the party? I see you’ve been indulging in the spirits.”

“Watching me, were you?” Astarion smirked and you held up your hands, caught.

“Guilty.”

“You know,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I never pictured myself as a hero.”

You reached out to squeeze his arm. “Don’t say that.”

His eyes met yours, and he gently pulled his arm out of your grasp. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He closed his eyes and took another swig of his wine. When he brought the bottle away and opened his eyes, he met you with a scowl. “I hate it. This is awful.”

You laughed. “Really? Saving lives is awful?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn’t change much.”

“You’re awful,” you shook your head affectionately.

He looked smug before puffing his chest. “And what do I get for all my hard work?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“Nothing but a pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.”

You pursed your lips and reached for the bottle, brushing your fingers against his own.

“Let me try,” you said, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a sip. Your tongue was flooded with the bitter taste of fermented grapes and something else you couldn’t place. Your face scrunched at the flavor and Astarion snorted.

“See what I mean? Awful.”

You handed the bottle back to him, smacking your tongue to get rid of the aftertaste. He took the opportunity to continue speaking.

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You let out an amused scoff. “Knowing you, it probably is.”

Astarion lifted a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oh, don’t be so sour. I like a good time as much as anyone.”

“‘Sour,’” you repeated, pointing at his wine bottle. “Good one.”

He smirked. “You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling.”

“Oh, really?” You lifted an eyebrow. “And what does that entail?”

“We could get a little closer, so to speak.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to Astarion. You took a considerable step backwards and crossed your arms.

“Sorry, I was really close to you just now, wasn’t I?” You rubbed up and down your bicep awkwardly.

Astarion blinked before his face settled into a seductive smirk. He reached his free hand out to rest on your hip. “On the contrary, my dear. I rather like it when you’re close.”

“Oh, good,” you sighed in relief. You brought your hand down to where Astarion’s rested on your hip. “Sometimes I can’t tell.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hip slightly. “So what do you say?”

“To us getting closer? I don’t mind!” To emphasize your point, you took a step forward and rested your other hand on his shoulder.

Astarion furrowed his brow. Then he chuckled again, gently removing both of your hands from his body. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.”

“Okay, now I’m really interested in what kind of entertainment you have planned.” You smirked at him, sensing a shift in his tone, but unsure of what it meant. “Don’t tell me you’re a master of shadow puppets or something.”

He smiled skeptically. “Very funny,” he said slowly. “But I trust you’ll meet me?”

You giggled. “Yes, I’ll see you later, Astarion.”

“Indeed you will, my love. Indeed you will.” Rather than bid you a proper goodbye, Astarion brought the wine bottle to his lips once more and turned away from you.

You spun on your heel and made your way back to the party.

This was fine. Good, even! Spending time one-on-one with Astarion was probably exactly what you needed if you wanted to navigate this silly crush you’d developed. Sure, he’d just called you “my love,” and that was a new one, but it wasn’t that much different from the other pet names he threw at you and your companions. You didn’t need this foolish infatuation distracting you on your journey or, gods forbid, diverting your attention during battle. No, this would be the perfect time to remind yourself and your fluttering heart that Astarion was, first and foremost, your friend, and a person. It didn’t need to be anything more than that.

Your feet carried you not too far from Astarion’s tent and landed you at Karlach’s tent, the tiefling in question currently lying on her back, looking up at the stars.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” you said, standing over her.

“Soldier!” she grinned, her eyes a bit fuzzy from the wine.

“This seat taken?” You kicked your foot over some dirt to her left.

“All yours,” she said, sitting up to join you.

You settled down next to her and watched the party still taking place at the center of camp. It sounded like Gale and Lae’zel were having some sort of heated argument over which main courses were best to prepare for battle, while Halsin awkwardly weaved between them to gather a plate of food for himself.

“Saw you chatting up Fangs just now,” Karlach playfully air-elbowed you, careful not to accidentally touch and scorch you. “Did he have anything good to say?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you shrugged. “He was an ass to me, I was an ass to him, the usual.”

Karlach nodded. “Sounds about right.”

You both sat in pleasant silence for a moment before you laughed a little. “It’s funny, he actually asked me to spend time with him tonight, after the party.”

Karlach furrowed her brow. “After the party? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, “he said we could ‘make our own entertainment.’” You made air quotes when you repeated his words. “I figure he wants to read together or something. It was just weird how he phrased it.”

She sat up a little straighter, her expression growing more serious. “Hang on, what were his words, exactly?”

You leaned back a little, confused by her sudden interest in your mundane conversation with the vampire. “Um… I don’t know. He said he didn’t like being a hero, I told him not to say that, he said he wanted more than a pat on the head and bad wine, I tried the wine and it was bad, he said he wanted a little fun, ‘is that so much to ask?’ and I said ‘knowing you, it probably is,’ and then he said we could make our own entertainment. Or something like that.”

“Huh.” Karlach thought for a moment. “I think he means to bone you, Soldier.”

You sputtered out a laugh. “What?! No he doesn’t!”

“He sooooo does!” Karlach barked out a laugh. “And good for you! I know I’d ride him to the Feywild and back if I had the chance.”

“He does not,” you said again, trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince Karlach.

But you faltered.

“Does he?”

“Soldier,” Karlach lowered her head at you, giving you an incredulous look, “he was absolutely asking you to get nasty with him.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” she threw her hands up in the air. “We all see the way you look at each other! You practically undress one another with your eyes every time you see each other!”

“No we don’t!” you argued, but shrank back when Karlach raised an eyebrow at you.

“You do. You know you do.”

“Am I that obvious?” you asked, lifting your hands to your cheeks as you felt them heating up.

Karlach started counting on her fingers. “He’s always the first one you check on after a battle, you’re always walking next to him when we’re traveling, AND you let him drink your blood. Weirdly often. Which is gross.”

“I like helping him,” you countered weakly. “And I always check on you guys, too!”

“Of course you do, Soldier, but we can all see how you two treat each other differently.”

You peered over at Astarion’s tent. He lounged comfortably amongst his pillows, a book propped open in his lap and his bottle of wine was not too far off.

How could he be so casual and relaxed about all of this? The thought of talking to him later tonight made your stomach drop.

“What if I turn him down?” you asked softly, leaning forward to hug your knees.

Karlach’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She reached out a hand, but retracted it. “If I could, I’d rub your back like my mum used to do when I was a kid.”

You smiled over at her. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “If you don’t want to sleep with the leech, that’s your choice. Don’t let him talk you into it if it’s not what you want.”

“I’m not entirely sure what I want,” you admitted, looking up at the familiar stars above.

Karlach sighed. “Well, you don’t have to decide anything tonight.” She nodded her head towards his tent. “In fact, I could go beat the shit out of him, if you’d like.”

You laughed. “Not necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ll do it.”

“I know you will,” you smiled and settled your cheek on top of your knee. “I do really like him,” you confessed.

Karlach thought for a moment. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the problem?” She cocked her head curiously.

You sighed. “Sex isn’t really something… I have a great relationship with.”

“Ah,” Karlach nodded. “Same,” she joked, flaring her flames a little for good measure.

You snickered quietly. “I won’t get into it, but… yeah. No thanks. For now, at least.”

“Say no more,” she held up her hand and turned to observe Astarion at his tent. “You could always just see what he has to say? Maybe he just wants to show you he’s a master at shadow puppets or something.”

“That’s what I said!” you laughed, and Karlach joined in.

When you’d both settled, she spoke again. “But seriously, Soldier. Astarion may be a freaky vampiric bastard, but I don’t think he’d hurt you.”

“I don’t think he would either.”

“He knows we’d kill him.”

“I’m sure you’d all take turns sending him to the hells.”

“You bet your sweet ass we would,” she brought her fist to her hand as if preparing to punch this hypothetical Astarion.

After another quiet moment, she spoke again. “You don’t have to go with him tonight. Or, I could come with you, if you want. As backup.”

“Thanks,” you said, “but I think I need to have this conversation with him alone.”

“Of course.”

You looked back over at Astarion’s tent. He was now standing and stretching his arms over his head. When he caught you watching him, he smirked and threw a wink in your direction. You quickly snapped your head forward, back towards the center of the party. Groaning, you brought your hands up to cover your face.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~~~

Staring into the trees ahead of you, you remained frozen in place.

The party had died down and dispersed about an hour ago, giving you and your companions plenty of time to perform a quick cleanup and head to bed. And just as Astarion had said, once a peaceful quiet had enveloped the camp, he’d come to your tent and wordlessly motioned for you to follow him.

Now you were wringing your hands, trying to convince yourself to follow after him into the forest.

Karlach was right: you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to do. And Astarion was a reasonable guy.

To a degree.

Okay, no he wasn’t.

He was always prepared to kill someone who wronged him in an instant. But surely he’d be reasonable in this department. Your gut told you that that was true. And if it wasn’t, you’d sicc Karlach and the others on him.

You knew it wouldn’t come to that, though. You felt strongly that he was the type who wouldn’t react rashly to a rejection.

Before you’d even made up your mind to do so, you found yourself walking into the trees, following the general direction you’d seen Astarion head off towards. The least you could do was hear him out. And who knew, maybe this would be a funny anecdote in your friendship later on down the line. Only time would tell.

It took a few minutes of mindless wandering before you reached a clearing. You kept going, prepared to keep walking until you eventually found Astarion, when you spotted him emerging from behind a tree in your peripheral.

You screeched to a halt and turned to face him, growing stiff with nerves when you realized he was shirtless.

“There you are,” he said, his hand lingering on the tree behind him. “I’ve been waiting.”

He approached you slowly.

Seductively.

You stood completely still.

He continued, “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.”

You swallowed thickly.

He moved even closer. “Waiting to have you.”

“About that,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “what exactly do you mean?”

Astarion’s sensual expression morphed into one of confusion. Then he laughed a little. “Isn’t it obvious? Tonight is about pleasure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” you muttered.

While you were pretty sure he heard you, Astarion pressed on anyway.

“Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

“Astarion,” you said quickly, surging forward to grab his hands in yours, “please.”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered with an alluring smirk. “Please what, darling?”

“We don’t have to.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Don’t have to what?”

You groaned and leaned your head forward to rest on his bare shoulder. After a second you lifted your face back up to look at him. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

This time, Astarion looked stunned. “Then… what are you doing here?”

You shrugged. “I thought we could talk.”

Astarion pulled away from you and took a step back. “‘Talk?’ I thought we had an understanding?”

“See, that’s the thing,” you said, “I did not understand.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and tilted his head in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” you said, stepping closer to him again. “I thought you wanted to spend time together.”

“Oh, but I do,” his lips quirked up mischievously. “I mean to spend the entire night with you, my dear.”

“And while that sounds great, I think you and I are having different thoughts about how to spend that time.” You held his gaze, willing him to hear you.

He humphed. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Not right now, no.”

He sputtered his lips together and threw his arms up. “And what does that mean?”

“It means… It means I don’t want to have sex right now. At all.” You watched his face scrunch in incredulity. “It has nothing to do with you!” you clarified, grabbing one of his hands again. “Believe me, this is all me.”

Astarion looked you up and down, scanning your body language. You still held his hand and leaned into him ever so slightly.

“What’s this then?” he asked, placing his free hand over the hand holding his.

You pulled away from him completely. “Sorry,” you said, “I end up touching the people I like. I don’t realize I’m doing it.”

He narrowed his eyes, putting the pieces together in his head.

“You like me.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Yes.”

“So… what? You want to be friends or something?” He made a sour expression.

You laughed softly. “I’d like to think we’re already friends, actually.”

“And why would you think that?” Astarion asked, but you saw in his eyes that he was teasing.

You smiled lightly. “Maybe because you won’t stop following me around Faerûn?”

“Well, it’s not like I-”

“Or maybe because you’ve had a taste of my blood and now you can’t get enough?”

“Okay, that’s-”

“Or maybe because Karlach said you treat me differently than you treat everyone else.”

“She did not!” Astarion sounded genuinely scandalized and you laughed.

“Face it, pretty boy, you like me, too.”

Astarion groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is not at all going how I planned.”

You pursed your lips and wrapped your arms around yourself again. “Sorry.”

He glanced back at you and saw you staring at the ground. He sighed.

“No, I’m sorry, darling.”

You met his eyes. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch.

“I assumed you wanted the same thing as me, and I was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” he said, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek, “I misread your touches as advances rather than…” He searched for the proper words. “One of your quirks.”

You exhaled, amused. “You didn’t entirely misread me.”

“Pardon?”

“I do like you. A lot. And if things were different, maybe I would sleep with you, but…”

Astarion pulled away from you and held up a hand. “No explanation needed, darling.” He smirked. “But it's good to know how you feel.”

You felt your cheeks go red. “Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “You’re so adorable when you’re thinking of what to say.”

You shook your head and patted your cheeks. “I have another idea,” you said.

He nodded for you to continue and crossed his arms.

“Um… if it’s alright with you, I…” You paused, not exactly sure how he’d react.

“What is it, darling?”

“I’d like to… bathe you.”

Astarion uncrossed his arms and looked rather dumbfounded.

“What?”

Your words came out clumsily and a little too fast: “Or not! I don’t know, I just like you so much, and I’d like to be closer to you but I don’t want to have sex with you so I thought maybe we could get closer another way, or maybe-”

“Okay,” Astarion interrupted.

“Huh?”

He moved closer to you and brushed some hair out of your face.

“Okay,” he repeated softly. “Let’s bathe together.”

“Oh,” you said, disbelief painting your features.

Astarion laughed. “Did you assume I’d say no?”

You shrugged as a smile grew on your face. “I don’t know what I expected,” you reached for his hand, “but I’m really glad you said yes.”

~~~~~

The walk back to camp was pleasantly silent, save for the crickets singing their nightly aria. Astarion kept pace with you, the back of your hands brushing every so often, each time sending a tiny shock wave through your body.

This was happening. You were going to have a private, intimate moment with Astarion. Even if it hadn’t been what he originally intended, you were happy to think of a compromise that still allowed you to get close to him in a way that you knew the others in camp hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t. It made you feel special.

Happy.

And nervous.

Nervous as all hells, to be honest. You felt your heart speeding up with every step you took, bringing you closer to camp.

“Something wrong, darling?” Astarion asked, giving you a sideways glance.

You jumped a little when his voice broke the silence. “Huh?”

“Your heart, love. It’s pounding.” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly. “Nervous?”

“Oh, that.” You held a hand to your chest and focused on slowing your breathing. When you turned to look at him, you asked, “Is that weird?”

“Seeing as how this was your suggestion, maybe a little.” He smiled and nudged his shoulder into yours.

You groaned. “If this is too weird, let’s just not.”

Astarion halted and grabbed your wrist to stop you. He spun you to look into his eyes. “Whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, darling, cut it out.”

“Oh, okay great. Done.”

“Really?”

“No, not really!” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He sighed. “Never is that easy, is it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you shook your head anyway.

“Well, whatever’s making you nervous, I’ll strive to steer clear of it.”

He looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted some sort of explanation. You avoided his eyes and moved to continue walking towards camp. He followed close behind.

“It’s just that…” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts. “I haven’t been… naked in front of someone. For a while.”

Astarion bit his lip, mirth in his eyes.

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaimed, mortified.

“No, no, darling!” His tone was gleeful. “Apologies. It’s just that that’s what’s making you nervous? I’ll have you know that you’re one of the more beautiful creatures who I’ve attempted to bed. You have nothing to fear. I’ve seen all manner of bodies and I can assure you, yours will be nothing short of exquisite. In fact, your shyness is rather endearing.” He smiled at you, looking like he might still be withholding a laugh.

You flattened your lips into a line. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” You began walking ahead of him but stopped when you heard him call your name.

“I may be a rake and a thief, but I’m no liar.”

You blinked at him. “Yes you are! You lie all the time!”

“Okay, yes, sure, but I don’t lie about things that matter! Things like this!” He motioned up and down, indicating your body.

Just as he did so, the two of you emerged from the trees and into camp. You held a finger to your lips and indicated for him to be quiet. He nodded and padded after you as you crept quietly towards the shore of the lake that lapped quietly next to your sleeping campsite. You bent to pick up towels, along with the bucket that held soap and other washing supplies that you and your companions shared in an effort to stay clean on the road. You held them up and motioned for Astarion to follow you again, away from where Withers stoically kept watch, and more towards where you’d spoken with Wyll earlier in the evening. When you turned to face Astarion, his eyes were full of questions.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” you asked.

He perked up and grinned. “My love, there is nothing I’d like more.”

You searched his eyes one more time to make sure he was serious. When you were satisfied with what you saw, you motioned for him to step into the lake.

“Ladies first,” you teased, looking anywhere but at Astarion.

He, in turn, looked down his nose at you. “I know what this is,” he said, pointing a lazy finger at you.

“What’s what?”

“You’re stalling, darling.”

“I am not!”

Astarion crossed his arms and tilted his head towards you, unimpressed.

Your posture fell into a slouch. “Okay fine, maybe I am stalling.”

“Really?” Astarion said dramatically before dropping his arms to his sides again. He approached you, close enough to where you could feel his cool breath on your face.

He placed both of his hands on your hips. You looked down to watch as his fingers drummed a calming rhythm into your sides. He whistled quietly, gaining your attention.

“Let’s start here,” he suggested, now fingering the hem of your shirt. He refused to let you look away.

You nodded.

“Good,” he purred as you raised your arms and helped him take off your shirt.

The cool air of the evening immediately sent goosebumps down your arms, and you unconsciously crossed them over your chest for warmth.

Astarion tsked. “Come now,” he protested and placed two gentle hands on your wrists, guiding them to your sides. “Lovely,” he praised once he was able to look at you.

You made an uncomfortable sound before placing your hands on your waistband.

“These probably need to come off next, right?”

“Typically that’s how one bathes themself, yes.”

“Right,” you agreed, watching as Astarion mirrored you and reached for his own waistband. You looked down at your legs as you removed your pants, leaving you in only your underwear.

“Goodness, love,” Astarion said quietly and you looked at him shyly. He himself was now only in his underwear. “You have nothing to be shy about. You’re magnificent.”

“Would you shush and get into the water please?” you half teased, half begged. Anything to end this weird tension you were feeling.

“Alright,” he laughed softly before reaching for the waistband of his underwear. He looked at you for approval. When you nodded, he removed them in one fluid motion as if he’d done this a million times. Maybe he had.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but stare at the space between his legs.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Eyes up here.”

“Sorry,” you said, immediately flicking your eyes up to his face. “I didn’t- It’s just-”

Astarion chuckled. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Your turn,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and slowly reached for your underwear. When you pulled them off, Astarion watched you without a hint of judgment in his eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and shifted nervously on your feet.

He held out a hand to you and you stared at it before looking up at his face. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going in this frigid water alone, are you mad?”

You laughed and took his hand. He instantly pulled your body to his, holding you so that you were chest to chest. He gave you a seductive smirk before leaning in. You leaned away, avoiding his advances. You shook your head ever so slightly before stepping into the gentle water. Astarion remained standing on the shore before following after you.

Braving the cold of the water, you sunk down until you were sitting in neck deep water. You let the bucket you’d brought with you float next to you as Astarion crept through the water, clearly freezing.

“Why did I let you convince me to bathe at night? There’s no sun out to warm this wretched lake.”

You ducked your mouth below the surface to blow some bubbles in his direction. “You should know by now that dunking your whole body helps you warm up faster.”

He gave you a dirty look before slowly sinking down in front of you, yelping and contorting his face the entire time. You couldn’t help but squawk out a laugh.

When he was fully seated, he pulled you towards him, making you sit in his lap. He gave you a sensual look that had you frowning and pulling back. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“When I said I wanted to bathe you, that’s all I meant.”

“Ah.” His tone was confused. Then he shook his head. “Right, sorry. This is - well… you know.” He smiled, looking like he was admitting defeat and that he wasn’t pleased about it. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

You swam behind him, pulling the bucket of soap towards you and laying your hands on both of his shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything.”

He spun to face you. “Nothing?”

You nodded and he huffed out a laugh. “No sex, no fooling around…I’m sorry, darling. It’s just - having to slow down, it’s… I’m just not used to it.”

“That’s okay,” you rested your hands on his shoulders again. “We’re in no rush.”

He hummed. “Can you… I don’t know. Help? Show me what to do?”

Laughing, you took his hand. “I’ll try.”

You led your weightless bodies into shallower water and had Astarion sit facing away from you, towards the shore. Reaching for the bucket again, you pulled out a bar of soap and a sponge.

“Relax,” you cooed, seeing how tensely he held his shoulders close to his ears.

He let loose a breath and you watched as he relaxed his muscles. Your eyes traveled lower, suddenly catching a glimpse of a complicated and gruesome scar on his back. Your eyes widened, taking in how the water and moonlight reflected off of it. Calmly, you dipped the sponge in the water and added soap before gently rubbing his right shoulder. Astarion melted further, allowing his neck to tilt forward, which, in turn, gave you a better view of his scarred flesh.

“Um… Is it okay for me to wash your back?” you hesitated in bringing the sponge across his shoulder and over his back to his other shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t - oh. I suppose you’re talking about the poem.” He barely looked over his shoulder at you.

“I’ve never seen a poem like this,” you said quietly, a hint of anger in your voice.

He chuckled darkly in response. “It’s a gift from my old master, Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. Do you like it, darling?” He shimmied his shoulders, mockingly preening over the evidence of his own torment.

“Not at all,” you said evenly, continuing to wash his shoulders.

“Ouch, love, you’d hurt his feelings if he heard that.” Not a hint of joy reached his eyes.

“I don’t much care about the feelings of this old master of yours.”

“Oh, be still, my undead heart,” he held a hand to his chest sarcastically. Then he sighed. “You’re allowed to wash it. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice was quiet when he said, “Thank you for asking.”

Wordlessly, you moved the sponge from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades.

“I’m not going to break,” he laughed softly, “you don’t have to be so gentle.”

You increased the pressure you were applying to his skin before adding more soap to the sponge. “Move up a little,” you instructed, tapping him to move closer to the shore. “Lean forward.”

Now you had a better angle to wash away the grime of the road from his back, and an even better view of the scar. You clicked your tongue and set to work.

Perhaps uncomfortable by your silence, Astarion began to speak again. “He, Cazador, composed and carved that poem over the course of a night.” There was a venom to his words. Maybe a deep regret, or a weighing sadness. “He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Your hand paused over a particularly brutal ridge. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against the raised tissue. “You’re brave for enduring that.”

“What are you doing?” Astarion straightened, making you push your cheek further into his skin.

You pulled back immediately. “Sorry, I wanted to hug you. I should have asked. I just… wanted you to know that I care.”

Astarion looked over his shoulder at you blankly. “You ‘care?’”

You nodded. “Turn back around, let me keep washing you.”

He gave you a slight nod before facing forward again and leaning over.

After another silent moment of gliding the sponge across his back, you asked, “Any idea what it means? Or is it just some pattern?”

Astarion let out an unamused laugh. “Hells if I know. Not sure how much you know about vampires, darling, but typically, we can’t see our reflections.” He spoke as if talking to a child.

You splashed his back with a small wave from your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You’re lashing out at me when I was just asking a question.”

“I-” He paused. Then he fell silent.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped but… I’m not your enemy,” you said gently. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. We don’t have to talk at all.”

Astarion groaned. “Silence is dreadful, darling.”

“Is that why you never stop talking?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Good one,” he said flatly, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “I only talk because you lot never have anything interesting to say.”

You scoffed with a smile. “I have plenty of interesting things to say!”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Like-” you thought for a moment. “Like the other day! When I was talking with you about your embroidery!” By now you’d moved on to washing over Astarion’s arms. You spun him to face you so you could wash and massage his hands.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, darling, that’s not an entirely interesting topic, seeing as how I was in the middle of mending a shirt and you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.”

“I did not!” you denied, massaging between his fingers. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around yours before retracting and flexing.

“Deny all you want, you still didn’t say anything interesting.”

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “If I’m so uninteresting, why did you want to spend the evening with me of all people?” You were massaging his other hand.

“You-” He paused again.

“I?”

“You’re… I’m still trying to figure you out.” His voice grew softer when you pulled yourself closer to wash across his chest. You sensed the shift and looked up at his face to make sure he was okay with your actions. When he nodded minutely, you continued.

“If you’re trying to figure me out… one might say that you’re interested in me.”

He groaned. “Say whatever you want to help you sleep better tonight, darling.”

“Uh huh,” you said pleasantly to yourself, feeling like you’d won. You looked away to add more soap to the sponge and when you looked back, you realized how close you were to his face. His pupils were blown wider than usual and you could see yourself reflected in his eyes against the moonlight. His breath tickled your face.

He watched you with an intensity that had you hesitating. Why was he so-?

“Look up,” you said, looking up yourself to demonstrate what you wanted. “Please.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could before looking up at the sky.

You carefully brushed the sponge along his throat, pausing briefly when you got to the twin wounds on his throat from the night he was turned. You circled them gently with the sponge before rinsing the suds with water cupped in your hand. A shiver ran through Astarion’s body.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said looking back down at you once you’d finished rinsing the suds away. “But I’d very much like to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times before resting your forehead against his. When you pulled back, you asked, “Is it okay for me to wash your hair?”

Astarion looked at you for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “I suppose so,” he said.

“I don’t have to. Your legs are still-”

“I can handle my own lower half, thank you.” He winked at you.

You smiled and handed him the sponge before bringing yourself to rest behind him again. You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water.

“You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket for Astarion to see.

“I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.”

“A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.”

“I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked.

Instead of dumping the entire bucket on his head like you threatened, you poured a gentle stream along the back of his skull before moving forward to evenly wet the rest of his hair.

“Bloody hells, that is cold,” he pushed some flattened curls out of his face.

“For being a fearsome vampire, you sure are a wimp,” you teased.

“I could rip your throat out.”

“And I might be able to drown you.” You placed firm hands on both his shoulders and pushed gently, as if you wanted to test your theory.

“Terrifying,” he smirked, running the sponge along his legs underwater.

“You should see what I did to those goblins who were holding Halsin hostage.”

Astarion laughed. “I know, darling, I was there. Who knew you could be so hellbent on vengeance?”

You laughed softly, coating your hands in soap before running them through his curls. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like?” he prompted.

“Astarion!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “You want to know more about me?”

“Well if I knew you’d make a fuss, I wouldn’t have said anything.” Despite his tone, his eyes were closed in pleasure as you continued to massage his scalp.

You chuckled quietly, trying to think of something to share with him.

“I’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate my whole life,” you started.

“A shame we never crossed paths.”

“I’m not entirely sure you’d spare me a passing glance.”

Astarion opened his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

You shrugged. “I read a lot, growing up, and liked being indoors. But I also liked the outdoors. I helped my dad tend our garden, and helped my mom cook dinner–”

“How quaint.”

“We’d visit my aunt in the Upper City every Midwinter, and I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up.”

“Pity, you have such a promising career as a spa keeper.”

You examined Astarion’s head to make sure you hadn’t missed a spot. When you were pleased with your own work, you continued: “This is the first big adventure I’ve ever been on.”

“First brain worm?” Astarion opened one eye and pointed to his temple.

You laughed and nodded.

He smiled. “Mine, too.”

You filled the bucket with more water and held a hand over his forehead to keep soapy water from splashing into his eyes when you poured the fresh water over his foamy locks.

Astarion sighed as the soap began to wash away. You filled the bucket again to repeat the process.

“Did you ever foresee yourself bathing a beautiful vampire, when you were a child?”

You pursed your lips. “I mean, I had my hopes.” You smiled as he let out a laugh.

“Tonight definitely didn’t go how I expected,” he admitted.

“You didn’t foresee yourself getting bathed by your incredibly interesting leader?”

He let out an amused breath from his nose. “No I did not.”

You finished rinsing out the last of the soap from his hair, but continued raking your fingers through it. “Are you disappointed?” Your voice was small.

He turned to face you, making your hands disconnect from his curls. “Not at all,” he said, sounding genuine. “Pleasantly surprised, actually.” He thought for a moment. “And cleaner than I’ve been in weeks. Probably.”

You laughed. “Happy to have provided my services.”

He smiled at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “This was nice.” He lifted his hand to swipe through his hair. “Let’s hope you didn’t ruin my hair.”

“With soap and water?”

“You might have done it wrong,” he teased.

“How? It’s soap and water!”

“Not so loud,” he chuckled, nodding his head towards camp. You could vaguely hear Gale snoring in the distance.

“I’m leaving,” you joked, moving to get up, but Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into the water.

“Am I not to return the favor?”

You looked back at him and half smiled, patting his cheek. “I’m not convinced you’d do a thorough enough job.” With that, you pushed away from him and got up, gathering the bathing materials and walking back to shore where towels awaited.

Astarion sputtered behind you. “How dare you! I could give you a massage, the likes of which you’ve never experienced before!”

“You know, sometimes, Astarion, people do things for other people, and don’t want anything in return.” You threw the towel over your head to start drying your hair before wrapping it around your body.

Astarion did the same before bending to pick up your discarded clothes. “I- Well… You-” He sighed heavily. “You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not trying to be,” you shrugged.

“And yet,” he sidled up next to you, offering you his arm, “you are.”

You took his arm in one hand and the bucket of washing supplies in the other and followed him as he led you back into camp. You placed the materials back where you found them and brought your newly freed hand up to wrap around Astarion’s arm. You leaned your head onto his shoulder.

When you arrived at your tent, he handed you your clothes.

“I suppose this is where we end our evening,” he said quietly so as not to wake the others.

“I suppose so,” you agreed, your eyes shining as you looked at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” you said, still holding his arm. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“I did,” he said. “Very much, actually.” When he saw the excited look on your face, he amended, “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not weird,” you said, weirdly.

“Uh huh,” Astarion said, pulling his arm out of your grip, not unkindly.

“We can do it again,” you bobbed on your feet, “if you want.”

“I… could be persuaded,” he nodded.

“Good,” you said. Then you surged forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Goodnight Astarion.” You turned and ducked down into your tent.

“Pleasant dreams, darling,” he said softly.

You didn’t see how his hand lingered on his cheek where your lips had made contact, didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his face or the mask beginning to slip.

Instead, you had pleasant dreams filled with laughs and curls and a flash of fangs accompanied by a smile of delight.

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cinnasalmon · 7 months ago

Text

→ Zevlor SFW Alphabet

Various SFW relationship (mostly romantic, but some platonic too) headcanons, one letter at a time! Very long. Sorry not sorry. I have a lot of thoughts

NSFW Alphabet here !

→ A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Doting to the mf MAXIMUM. It's almost sickening. He's not super into PDA, but he will always have a hand on the small of his partner's back and be the first to open doors so he can hold it open for them. This has a risk of other couples in public to start arguing because “how come you're not like that with me?”

For real though he is so affectionate, and it's always the little things, too. Like if he's on his way back from the temple and a food cart is offering a free sample of something, he asks for another to bring to his sweetheart.

→ B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Mom/Dad/Parent friend. Overly responsible, always offering to help, and it's one thing when someone comes at him sideways—he can take the heat (begrudgingly)—but it's an entirely different thing when it's one of his buds. He has an extremely small friend circle, and he considers them family.

Friendship progression is slow and really only happens if he sees them regularly: a regular at the temple or they work together there, they're his neighbors, etc. He's got trust issues out the wazoo, though (thanks Avernus/Elturel). So be very, very patient.

→ C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES goodness gracious yes. He loves cuddling, or any kind of physical touch. Big spoon, little spoon, it does not matter to him so long as he's in physical contact with his partner.

Though, he prefers as much of his body flushed against theirs (the more skin-on-skin contact, the better); we're talking arms holding each other, legs tangled, heads buried in the other's, etc. If his partner is also a tiefling, their tails will be intertwined as much as possible. If his partner is a non-tiefling, his tail will be coiled around one of their legs.

→ D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He's been wanting to settle down for decades. But, a Hellrider is for life. His career was always to be his priority: even if he had a family at home, even if his own life was in danger.

But the moment he can finally settle down, soldiering days behind him, you can bet he'll be pitching in happily to the household chores. He may not be the greatest cook, but he'll tease he can chop the hell out of a vegetable.

→ E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Oh this is a nightmare scenario for him. He'll exhaust every possible option of salvaging the relationship before resorting to this. Once he commits to his partner, he doesn't let go easily. But if it comes down to it, he'll plan it out and whip out the ‘ol “We need to talk.”

From being a commander in the past, he's not afraid of confrontation, but he'll still be gritting his teeth as he bites the bullet to end it.

→ F = Fiancé (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As stated above, once he commits to his partner, he's locked in; he dates with marriage as the end goal. Whether he's been married before or not, at his age now, this is it. So, he'll take his time before deciding to pop the question. Buuut he doesn't wait forever, though. He's a classic romantic, so no games or leading someone on. If his partner reciprocates with the same enthusiasm? Well he'll be down on one knee in no time.

→ G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Paladins who swear to an oath of devotion follow a set of tenants, one of these is to aid others, protect the weak, and punish those who prey upon them (labeled under Compassion). A sturdy and strong hand to slay enemies should also be capable of being soothing and with great care to those the paladin is sworn to defend. Zevlor is no exception to this. Even if his oath is broken, it's still in his nature to be like this.

As far as emotions? Much as he may try to appear stoic and calm, he wears his emotion on his face. And despite having the flames of Hell sat on onyx for eyeballs, they show a lot. I personally love the headcanon that the flames will brighten or dim depending on his emotions and I will stand by that proudly.

→ H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

As stated before, physical touch is something this man wants at nearly all times. So it's no surprise he gives great hugs. They're so gentle and calming, and even if the person he's hugging is taller or bigger than him, they'll feel enveloped by his touch. And being a tiefling, his body temperature runs higher, so his hugs are nice and toasty.

He'll embrace his partner often, and he particularly loves hugs from behind (both giving and receiving). People hug from the front all the time, so coming up from the rear is quite a bit more intimate. He craves closeness in every sense of the word.

→ I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He'll want to say it much sooner than he finally does. This is sooo cheesy, but he'll be staring at the side or back of his partner, feeling that wave of nerves, butterflies in his stomach, and the swells in his chest, but those short little words are caught at the top of his throat. His partner will notice him and curiously ask, “What are you looking at?” and he will say, “Sorry, I… was drifting in thought,” until one day his partner will once again curiously ask with an accompanied chuckle, “What are you looking at?” to which he will blurt out “I love you.”

→ J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

This man will n e v e r admit he's jealous. But boy does it show. His words are short, blunt. He won't look his partner in the eye. They'll have to coax it out of him. Simply asking “Wait, are you jealous?” will not work. In fact, it will likely send him further into painfully obvious denial.

Since his oath and faith were broken and lost, his ego is um… quite fragile, moreso when it comes to things in his life he believes he doesn't deserve. Like his partner. Especially his partner.

→ K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are so sweet your blood sugar levels will skyrocket.

So, so gentle and loving. He can certainly be rough when the time calls for it, but overall he's slow and even methodical a bit; he kisses like each one could be his last.

In public, he'll give a peck here and there, but at home? Showers his partner in kisses. Everywhere. It's one of the easiest and simplest ways to show how much he truly adores them.

He doesn't really have a preference where he likes to be kissed, but he blushes a bit and feels soft and mushy when it's anywhere on his face (especially cheeks, temples, and forehead) or any of his infernal features on his body. If his partner kisses the back of his hand, he'll freeze for a moment, then the bashfulness comes out.

→ L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He loves kids! I'd like to think that if asked what he would be if not a Hellrider, he would answer a schoolteacher (shout out to Early Access). He sees children as limitless potential with an insatiable curiosity; they are the future. And of course, he's always wanted children of his own, and perhaps a part of him still wants to try…!

→ M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Slow and easy. Decades of being a Hellrider waking up before dawn to report for duty? He is over it. Now he can finally take his time and savor the mornings.

If he's up before his partner and isn't helping out at the temple that day, he'll stick around and read a book until he hears them stirring awake. Once they're awake, it doesn't take much coaxing to get him back in bed.

If both end up sleeping in, they're not leaving that bed for at least an hour after they wake up. Just cuddling and chatting, enjoying each other's company. Afterwards, they always make breakfast together.

→ N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Evenings are typically relaxing. After dinner, he'll read or write a bit (he loves his poetry), have a glass of wine or two with his partner, or any other similar winding-down type of activity.

He has insomnia and frequent nightmares, and no matter how many nights his partner will be adamant to stay up with him, the warmth radiating from his body as well as the soothing baritones of his voice guarantee that will never happen.

→ O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He harbors a lot of secrets and stress within him. He's very wise, but oftentimes wisdom is formed from hardship. He's reluctant to share much aside from surface-level tidbits until the relationship matures and he feels safe and secure enough to let his guard down. Even then, he's definitely someone who will still reveal things about himself years into a relationship or friendship.

→ P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has a temper for sure, especially if a soft spot was hit. That being said, he's also quick to calm himself. Being a leader—a leader in the military, at that—he cannot let himself get caught up in the heat of the moment; he has to catch himself before it gets to that point, even if his anger is justified (see: the confrontation with Aradin).

→ Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He's got a pretty good memory, but when it comes to his relationship? Almost nothing will need to be repeated to him. Hell, he'll write it down on scrap paper and tuck it in one of his journals if he has to.

If his partner works at a busy place in the city, he'll remember every co-worker his partner complains or raves about. Our man stays on top of the work drama: “Had a long day, darling? Was it that Galawyn again?”

→ R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

I think Zevlor's favorite moments in a relationship would be the little moments. Hearing his partner's fits of laughter, how peaceful they look asleep next to him, the way their eyes light up when they see a poster that their favorite traveling bard will be performing in town soon.

And of course, it goes without saying his all-time favorite moment would be the classics: the wedding day and/or the birth of their child!

→ S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

HAh this man is a guard dog. Even before they become a part of his oath, he's adamant to protect his person, his one and only. During the budding/honeymoon stage of the relationship this will be extremely obvious. Lots of, “Dear, please be careful with that,” or “Would you like me to accompany you?” As if they didn't personally kill the Chosen of the Dead Three along with a Netherbrain.

But for Zevlor to be the protected one? On the outside, he'll insist he's fine and that he can hold his own just fine, he's a grown man, etc. And he is right. But on the inside, he'll be so relieved to be tended to. So relieved, in fact, that he actually feels a bit guilty (but that's a whole other can of worms).

→ T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Oh he'll remember. He keeps track. Never will need to be reminded of something. He's someone who has that uncanny ability to bring his partner a random gift and they'll respond “How did you know I wanted this?!” and the bastard will shrug and smirk. He knows. He just knows.

→ U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His biggest one is he will easily and nearly automatically put himself down at every opportunity. Early in the relationship it's to the point he doesn't even realize he's doing it until it's pointed out. He's always had this mindset to a degree, but even still, he was a much different person in Elturel as a Commander vs. now. The trauma from Avernus combined with the aftermath of being blamed for it (and then subsequently exiled), as well as the events of the Shadow Lands, all did a number on his psyche.

I'm also not gonna lie—he can be a little codependent, especially if the relationship is new. It's easy to fall down that slippery slope when you want to serve others, especially loved ones. He may occasionally have to be reminded he can be “selfish” and accept the fact his partner can do things for him that he doesn't need to reciprocate!

→ V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not terribly concerned. Well, not terribly concerned unless his partner is young and/or considered attractive by others (though he will always believe they are the hottest in all the land), then he'll feel very self-conscious and in need of some validation and reassurance.

He does like to maintain good hygiene and prefers to wear simple, clean, and comfortable clothes.

→ W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He's a sappy romantic at his core, so once he finds his person, he will absolutely say they complete him.

While he had his comrades in the cavalry, all who were extremely close-knit and loyal to one another, they couldn't fill all his wants and needs. When they were able to take some leave, many of them had spouses and children waiting for them to come back home, and Zevlor had always lamented that.

→ X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

We got a nail biter over here! I recently saw this front-view of an idle animation as he stood over the map of Elturgard, and while it very well could be a generic idle animation not specific to him, imo, the shoe fits perfectly I'm afraid.

He holds his hand over his mouth somewhat nervously, and you could say he's just pondering but I don't care! He's biting his nails okay!!!

→ Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In a partner: if they're non-committal. No guessing games, wishy-washy, flaky nonsense. However, he is willing to wait if they want to take it slow and work through some stuff (and he'll be happy to assist them in any way he can). He just doesn't want to be with someone who treats him as a backup or if he feels like they're just settling for him.

In general: I have 0 evidence for this but I think he doesn't like tight spaces. Claustrophobia, if you will. Perhaps it's a lack of an easy escape or is limited in his movements, but he haaaates it. Even being in a crowd makes him uneasy.

→ Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

After canon events, he takes naps frequently. All that stress and his nervous system stuck in survival mode for the past several months will catch up to him, and to try and recover, he'll feel sleepy a lot. Known to begin to drift to sleep while embracing his partner, even while standing (he will deny this if confronted).

He also snores. Not loudly by any means, but it's a dead giveaway that he actually made it into a nice, deep sleep, as he's normally a light sleeper and has some gnarly insomnia sometimes. Almost always falls asleep after his partner and wakes up before them in the morning.

———

If you made it this far congrats! Also I encourage you to fill out this alphabet too, for Zevlor or whoever!

#zevlor #bg3 zevlor #headcanons #>completes a sfw alphabet #>uses gif where he's covered in blood #>leave me alone ok #the questions are not color-coded in any way i just needed something to break up the otherwise gigantic wall of singular-colored text lmao

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dragonswithjetpacks · 4 years ago

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I finally finished the next chapter of Theurgist. I don't know why I was struggling so hard to finish it. I literally only needed one conversation to finish it. Either way! Here we go!

Theurgist

Chapter Six: The Trouble of Secrets

-dragonswithjetpacks

Read here on Ao3.

“Is that it? Down there?” Ferelith peered over the edge of the cliff, shouting behind her as the roaring of the waterfall drowned out her voice. “Not much of a sanctuary is it?”

The ruined stone nestled into the grove below were nothing but rocks to her as she searched the area for anything note-worthy. From what she gathered, it was an area designated to the druids and a sanctioned place for their ritual. Other than that, everything else seemed a makeshift bandaid toward any attempt to reconstruct the architecture of the original temple that once existed. The stonework that remained standing was impressive in itself. But it seemed overshadowed by the poor craftsmanship of the woodwork, similar to what the tiefling camp was built around. With a disappointed huff, she pulled herself away.

“Let’s take a look at the rest of the camp. I’d like to hear a few more things about the druids before we head down there.”

“You don’t think we should introduce ourselves?” Gale crossed his arms, examining her closely. “The tieflings mentioned a healer was among them.”

“Did they?” she raised her brow. “I believe anyone with potential was said to be missing.”

“Ah, but there was a brief word about an apprentice.”

“I’m not interested in a druid apprentice,” she almost snarled, a wrinkle forming on her nose.

“We’re all in need of assistance, here,” he became stern with a lowered brow. “I can’t imagine putting off this kind of information. What sort of vendetta do you have?”

“I don’t,” she said quickly with a shrug to hide her hesitance. “I simply feel this is a problem more complicated that requires further assistance. Far from what an apprentice could provide.”

“And you think we’ll find something different with the rumors of refugees?”

“I think the tieflings will be desperate enough to help in any way they can. Rather than throw ourselves at the mercy of those running everyone out of the grove, why don’t we lend an ear to the needy?”

“She might be right,” Astarion pulled at his belt. “People in desperation are rather chatty.”

“Or we could stop wasting time. We have the location we need marked on the map. Let us be done with this place,” Lae’zel added her piece.

Ferelith had not trusted a single word of information she had received thus far. Every possibility for a cure to her brain problem seemed ironically far-fetched. Given her circumstances were unusual, she did not know why the suggestion of an obscure solution seemed so unlikely. Still, the idea of a gith camp made her uneasy and the thought of a druid healer made her sick.

“I want to at least speak with Zevlor, the tiefling’s leader, once more,” she stepped past her comrades. “I’d like to get a better idea of what we’re walking into down there.”

The focus was originally meant for striding back through the camp. Instead, it was directed toward to small orange eyes that caused her to pause. They belonged to a tiefling boy, not much older than the ones training on the platform above. Behind him was a poorly made table filled with an array of what she could only imagine were crafted items.

“Going so soon?” he grinned. “I couldn’t help but overhear your troubles. I might have something that could help.”

“I doubt that,” she scoffed.

“Hang on, lady,” he held out his hands. “Hold out your hand. Let me show you something.”

The small red hands of the child were quick, she had to admit. But still, she could tell it was the sleight of his hands that made the ring appear from thin air. Between his fingers was a single tarnished ring.

“Go on. Take it. It’s lucky.”

Ferelith humored him, taking it into her grasp. Between two fingers, she held up to her eye-level and began to wonder what sort of nonsense she might find in it.

“Call it,” he nodded, holding up a coin. “Heads? Or tails?”

“Heads,” she answered firmly.

The coin was flipped into the air, landing square into the center of his palm. The coin sat face-up.

“Heads it is,” he said confidently. “See? That’s the kind of luck you need. And you can get it with one of my lucky rings. I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Real cheap, too. Interested?”

“These runes are terrible,” she said, looking down at the ring with hardly any interest in the coin at all. “They’re gibberish.”

“Hey! Not so loud,” he hissed at her, grabbing at her hands to pull them back down.

Ferelith dodged his desperate attempts, stepping backward and holding the ring up further.

“This… looks like a smiley face,” she squinted.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed. “You caught me. They’re not lucky rings. I’m just… trying to earn money for my family. My father left and my mother… she’s so sick.”

He was lying. She was certain of it. Some children would line up just outside the alleyway across her shop. That alleyway was the same she would use to navigate quickly within the lower district of Baldur’s Gate. It was a quick shortcut, an access point, and a good source of information. There were often she would leave her window open, listening to the shouts of some poor swindled soul calling out to catch a thief. The alleys were swarming with urchins and pickpockets. She knew their games. To avoid their wrath, she would bring them sweets or simply a loaf of bread to feed them for the night. It kept her in their favor, but she always knew what to look for.

“I wish I had better things to sell than… trinkets. But it’s all I have.”

Ferelith crossed her arms, sticking her bottom lip out with large eyes to mimic the child. For a moment, he thought it was empathy. But he was quickly corrected by a jesting grin as the corner of her mouth turned upward.

“I’m not buying it, kid,” she laughed.

“I, uh… don’t know what you mean.”

“This is a Tinker’s Trash… and a clumsy one at that.”

“You know that really hurts. I’m running an honest- wait. Okay, what’s a Tinker’s Trash?”

“It’s when a scammer offers the target a ‘magic’ object-”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded eagerly.

“-then rigs a game to gain the target’s trust to sell them trash.”

“Interesting,” he paused for a moment, “And I promise this isn’t a Tinker’s Trash scam.”

“Then what kind of scam is it?”

“Look, I swear. These rings are the real deal. I’m not running a scam.”

“Alright,” she looked down at the ring with the scratched fake runes.

The children in Baldur’s Gate were clever, much like the little fiend before her. But not all children were so lucky. The desperation of the camp reminded her of the harsh ways of living within the underbelly of large cities. There wasn’t always a place for children to go. Which meant even if the tieflings ever made it, some of the orphaned children wouldn’t last a second in the dirty streets of the lower district.

“Let’s see what else you have,” she nodded.

“You’re paying for that one, aren’t you?”

Ferelith grinned wickedly. “Consider this your first word of advice: don’t let the target hold the product for too long. Or else the swindler will be swindled. It’s a free sample, now.”

“I’m not- you know what… it’s fine. You’ll feel way more confident once you’ve seen the rest of my stock.”

The trinkets scattered about the table were arranged quite nicely considering it was all literal garbage. One ring she picked up was covered in ants. She turned it over in her hand. Then picked up another ring. The child next to her was excitedly describing their properties and some came with stories of how they came into his possession. Children were typically creatures Ferelith did not gain any joy from. This brat in particular, however, brought a cheeky grin to her face. She purchased three of the rings.

“You bought something,” he said looking down at the coins she placed in his hand. “Most everybody says it looks like junk and moves on.”

“What can I say? I like collecting junk,” she shrugged, hiding the hint of the smile.

“Well, it’s a pleasure doing business with you. If you have any further need, you know where I’ll be. Take care!”

Just before she turned, she caught the quick wink to another tiefling who lingered off to the side. He appeared very nervous and simply gave a slight wave as their eyes met. Feeling rather pleased with herself, she approached the others near the edge of the cliff. Astarion had a rather irritated look upon his face from what she could gather. Then again, the expression had not left from the moment they entered the camp. Ferelith did the best she could to avoid him but found it impossible as he quickly hovered over her.

“You’re joking right?” his voice was harsh in her ear.

“What is it, now?” she said, sliding one of the rings with rubbish runes onto her finger.

“You’re just going to let them rob you?”

“They didn’t rob me,” she rolled her eyes.

“You bought actual garbage with gold.”

“What would you have me do?” she seemed rather interested in his response.

“They’re children. You could easily take it back. It might teach them a lesson.”

“And what lesson is that?” her head turned, her nostrils flaring with a cold stare. “That the strong can take what they want? That shouldn’t lessen the idea that the weak can survive.”

“The strong take what they want because they’ve earned that right,” he lowered his brow.

“We were all weak, once,” she rolled another ring around the palm of her hand. “Luck is what granted us the opportunity to become stronger. The only thing the strong have properly earned is the gratitude to have made the right choice and boasting rights.”

“Luck?” he appeared baffled by her statement. “That has nothing to do with it, darling. It’s all about dedication to gain power. A proper tool of strength.”

“Strength means nothing if you don’t know how to use that power,” she retorted. “And that is maintained by learning to avoid weakness. Besides… there is a chance the brat might come in handy.”

“I can’t see how a vile devil spawn with an eye for trash could be of use.”

“Don’t be so cross,” she mocked him with a false look of defeat. “I got something for you, too.”

The ring flipped up with a toss of her thumb. And he caught it, looking down and seeing the same thing he saw before. A piece of metal scrapped together.

“Wonderful,” he looked at it. “What does it do?”

“It makes you really invisible,” she grinned, walking back toward the entrance of the grotto.

“I don’t need invisibility.”

“You sure?” she tilted her head. “I believe I recall a bottle of acid smashed on the back of you during the battle at the gate. You were quite stealthy then, weren’t you?”

“I hope the money you spent on this just to insult me was worth it,” he grumbled behind her, tucking the trinket into his pocket as he listened to her chuckle.

“I believe it was,” she glanced over her shoulder with a suggestive wink.

***************************************

Even after a day combing through the camp, Ferelith had found no healer. Plenty of leads that pointed her to one, but not a single healer in her current sights. Not one worth the risk, at any rate. All she had discovered was a camp full of unresolved tension with a burnt-out leader reader to snuff out his opponent with a sack of coin. Tempting as it may have been, she still considered the resolve to be attainable and wanted to avoid any further conflict that might jeopardize her chance of receiving a cure. Even with that setting as the main course for thought, there was still something juicier that caught the attention of her hunger named curiosity. It was the man she had met in the grove. The one who had dismissed her so quickly for assuming he had taken a pact as she had. Her thoughts fluttered back to the image of the cambion she saw, her wings stretched out to show her true form in all its beauty. Though the sight of it was but a glimpse, Ferelith was certain of what she had witnessed in his mind.

Slinging her pack off her shoulder and tossing it to the ground, she turned with the intention to approach him. He met her gaze as she grew near with a welcoming smile. He had been waiting all evening and expected she was eager to speak with him.

“Salutations,” he greeted her politely.

“Blade of the Frontiers,” she held out a hand, and he grasped it gently.

“Living legend, in the flesh,” he boasted with a good shake. “Slayer of specters. Killer of kobolds. The pride of Baldur’s Gate.”

“So they say,” she shook her head teasingly as he let go of her.

“Ah, so you’ve heard the stories?”

“I have,” her smile grew. “The wonderful tales that they are.”

“All true, I might add. Won’t be long before they’re telling new tales. Mind flayers, flying ships, dragon attacks- the legend grows!”

“Mind flayers and dragons are quite the stretch from kobolds,” she crossed her arms. “I assume you have an idea of how to handle this, then?”

“There’s an old saying I just made up,” he tossed his hand carelessly. “To fell a dragon, you must chop off its head.”

“I see,” she nodded slowly. “So... you have no idea.”

“Hold on,” he held up a hand. “These goblins are organized. It’s no hamhead pulling the strings. We slither through their camp and off their leaders, quick as crickets.”

“Take out the ones pulling the strings and the puppets have no one to follow. Not a bad plan, but I never imagined goblins would be the type to fall in line. Are you sure they’re as organized as you say?”

“Positive,” he sounded firm. “I’ve learned at least that much while defending the camp.”

“You said you were waiting for Halsin,” she stated. “Why risk your life for the tieflings?”

“Did you see those kids back at the grove? They should be chasing frogs, climbing trees. Not training for battles they can’t win. Those people look at me and they see a hero. Imagine how bad they’d feel if they were wrong.”

Dark thoughts weaved their way into her mind as she saw the selfish side of the pride of a hero. The downfall of the tieflings meant damage to his reputation. Then again, something about what he said was true. If it wasn’t, she would not be wearing a fake magic ring on her finger. And she would be a liar if she said she felt any different about them.

“It is an unfortunate situation.”

“I disagree,” he said firmly. “Fortune has brought us to their aid.”

Ferelith turned her head, eyeing him with distinct suspicion at the tone in his voice. It brought her back around to the sole purpose of why she had a desire to speak with him. But it also had made her question what he had seen when they crossed memories. If she had found the cambion, what had he discovered within her memories?

“Your eye,” she stated lightly while trying to sway the subject. “… it’s a bit unusual.”

“Now, now” he held out a hand to keep her at bay. “I always save the best stories for my closest friends and my cruelest enemies. Get to be one of those, and I’ll spill the whole jug.”

Her posture softened, but the intensity of her gaze never left.

“You get that, right? Spill the whole jug? Ugh- guess I’ll toss that one into the heap.”

Ferelith had already seen enough to know that there was something else to suspect of Wyll. This game he was playing by being coy was enough to keep her interest, but not enough to prevent her from becoming impatient. Her eyes were sharp and she leaned forward a bit with a knowing stare. She could see the grooves carved into his eye, much like stone. She had seen something like it before. Not recently, but during her time in Neverwinter, she had witnessed two colleagues exchanging them before setting off on a journey.

“It looks like a sending stone.”

Wyll threw himself into a fit of laughter. “A what now? Goodness, but it’s just a bit of rock- nothing so special, I assure you.”

The lifting spirits in his voice would have thrown anyone else off course. But Ferelith was keen to notice his jaw clench at the mention of the magic stone. He knew she was far too cunning to outsmart. She narrowed her eyes at his lies, a sign that she knew something of his secret. She would hold it… for now.

“If you say so,” she smiled.

It sounded far more sinister than it should. And he watched as her black hair swirled around her shoulder as she whipped around to leave him to his own bidding. His brow lowered as he glared at her back, watching as if he were about to see some demon rip from her spine. Just as she had seen what lie beneath his thoughts, he saw deep into her. It was a tall dark shadow with his hands placed upon her shoulders. He loomed over her, hovering like a heavy reminder of whatever deal they had made. Ferelith was never shy to admit she was a warlock. Yet he did note that there had been no mention of what her patron was. Or what sort of power she received.

Ferelith had reason to be concerned with what Wyll had seen. If she was correct in her assumption that they had exchanged knowledge of their patrons, and if the angered outburst had truly come from a darker place within, then she knew her passenger was still on board. It put her to ease, but the troubled thoughts remained as to why he remained silent. So silent, in fact, that she could not even feel him burrowing into the depths of her thoughts. Then, there was an idea that the worm in her had was so tangible, so heavy, that maybe his projected form was simply too light in comparison. The sudden realization was so profound that she felt the need to make note of it. To write it down along with all the other sort of information she gathered that day.

Rummaging through her bag she found the ink and quill she had been keeping. And with a sigh, she pulled out her books, one carefully at a time. Among them was a red book. She looked at it curiously. She did not remember this book. As she opened the pages, she noticed they were blank. She leaned forward to smell them. The book was new. And the outside smelled of leather and sweet cherry wood. It brought back a memory. And she knew it should have been there before, but it wasn't. This was a gift.

Her hand ran across the leather as she remembered the last face she saw before she was kidnapped. But then something occurred to her... what if it wasn't the last face. What if there were more memories that she was missing? She couldn't even remember how she was taken. All she could recall was stone. The cold numbing feeling through her head. And the blackness surrounding her vision. If she was receiving the gift that night, then she must have been taken on her way home. That was the only explanation from what she could gather.

She searched further into the back of her head, looking for the voice that usually appeared as a potential source for answers. It remained silent. Her gaze fell up to the sky, feeling a bit remorseful at the temporary loss of her inner companion. Still, she had the journal. And she was relieved she had something to remind her of herself. Her gaze shifting down, she wondered how her other companions had been captured. She had seen brief memories of them. But what if they, too, had part of their memory removed as she did. Her eyes fell onto Astarion and her heart jumped for a moment. It appeared he was feeling sentimental as well. The attraction she had felt for him reared its ugly head once again. He sat back in the grass, his legs kicked out as he looked into the sky. She wondered what it was that intrigued his thoughts. She could use the tadpole. But if anything was going to keep her patron at bay, it would be the exploitation of their newly arrived tag along. Instead, she stood up, tucking the journal into her pocket before making her way to the elf.

"It's quite a sight," he said as he felt her approach.

He did not turn his eyes away from the sky. And she noticed the pleased expression he wore. It suited him, but she felt it was out of character considering how smug his previous smirks had been.

"The stars, I mean," he clarified, finally meeting her gaze. "I could take or leave your chin."

He caught the hint of a smile, an indication he had picked up the teasing tone which matched that of her own during previous conversations. She hid it well and even glanced over her shoulder to confirm that Lae’zel was still too busy sharpening her sword to eavesdrop. The light from the fire reflected off her face and he could see the highlight of her cheekbones. As she turned back to face him, he held his tongue. He kept the sight of her for a moment before looking back up.

"Am I bothering you?"

"No," he said softly. "Just thinking... Reflecting on what tomorrow might bring. When we arrive at this... gith creche."

The use of his enunciation was unnecessary, though she still felt her fingers twitch at her side. She rubbed her fingertips against her thumb to hide the subtle notion, a reminder that what was tangible was far more real than what a voice could provide. His words felt fabricated. Yet, the way his mouth moved when he spoke was still so very enticing.

"Will we find out how to bring the worm under control? Will this little adventure of ours be over?"

"I imagine that is likely" she directed rather casually.

Astarion's face dropped as he drew his attention back to her face. It seemed as though she was not taunting him this time. He began to question her motive. Whatever she had back in Baldur’s Gate must have been far more suitable than whatever he had to offer. Why would she stay? Why would she risk her life more than she already had? What was it that she wanted to return to?

"A pity..." he frowned with a nod of endearment. "A great pity."

He sighed, sitting up to push his hands off the ground and onto his feet. He dusted them off onto his pants and she took the moment to admire his jagged profile while he remained occupied. As jagged as it may be, there were still features that brought softness to his face. For one, his eyes that he could make rather large at any given moment. And the way his hair curled perfectly around his pointed ears. A man so prominent, so smug, so proud... did not seem the type to have such playful curls. She acted as if nothing was humorous about them at all, however, when he looked her in the eyes again.

"I hate to disappoint you," she stated in a rush, "but I doubt you'd miss me that much."

"Of course I would," he proclaimed with his eyes fixated on hers. "You've been to the Hells and back! Survived the crash. Survived everything that's followed. I'm not easily impressed by people. But you're stronger than I gave you credit for."

"I didn't know I appeared to be so weak," she lowered her brow. "I've always been renowned to be rather impressive."

Ferelith brushed her hair from the side of her neck, placing her beauty further into the light of the fire when she turned her head. Her sullen eyes, high cheeks, pointed nose, pursed lips... they all illuminated before him. There was a dark presence to her, one he could not name. But the feeling of it alone was welcoming to him. He glared at her temple, wondering if he could tap into her thoughts without her noticing. But he was not willing to risk it. Instead, he found the nerves that ran through her skull... the pounding of her heart. He followed the sound to her neck, tense from their conversation... She was impressive, indeed.

"And aren't you just," he found himself muttering.

Beautifully frustrated with a thumping rhythm sounding before him as his own personal concerto. It made him wander away from camp. Away to places where he could take her beneath the trees under the cover of shadows. It was more than just taking her blood. It was taking her... all of her...

"Are you alright?"

Her voice brought him back in front of her. In front of the blasted campfire.

"Hmm?" he hummed as he regained himself. "Oh, uh, I was leagues away."

"You're... staring..." she was stuck between question and concern.

There was no point in telling lies any longer. He was, in fact, staring. Though... the reasons were a bit muddled, even in his own mind.

"Was I? I just..." he held his breath, still unsure of his intentions but knowing the hunger was now committed. "I just need to get some... air. Clear my head."

"That's not strange at all…"

There was an urge to dispute her rebuttal, but he stopped himself from saying another word. He would hate to end this moment poorly. One so beautiful as she looked at him from down her nose, her chin held upright as she smirked with amusement as she had cornered him into an awkward circumstance. She was enjoying this. Seeing him struggle. He made note of it as he stepped slightly backward, ready to leave before he endangered himself any further.

"I'll see you later, then," he bowed slightly. "I'm sure of it. Sleep tight."

"Right," she nodded. "Enjoy your air, Astarion."

"Yes," he mumbled under his breath. "My air..."

#bg3 #astarion #astarion fic #astarion x oc #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion x ferelith #slow burn #ferelith #ferelith moonshade #ferelith writing tag

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