You put an ilithid tadpole in my brain when you introduced soft cock Zevlor. Please give me more of them yummy brain worms 🙇♂️
oh man ive had this ask for a second but i was chewing on little zevlor ficlet ideas but im just going to vomit some thoughts instead
(ﾉ*ФωФ)ﾉ
-lazy afternoons resting your head in Zevlor's lap while you suckle at his cock, almost like an oral stim toy
-pussy slapping with his soft cock!! smacking it on your clit again and again before rubbing small, tender circles into it with his spongey head
-pegging Zevlor within an inch of his life, abusing his prostate until the two of you are sticky and drenched with his precum
-wanting to let him be a pillow prince while you fuck him, but him always getting too heated so he flips you both around and rides you, fat, hot drops of his precum flinging onto your stomach all the while
-Zevlor letting you bring someone else into the relationship bc he's worried he's not meeting your needs (cough, Rolan perhaps? coughcough) but rather than him enjoying watching you have sex, you and the new partner end up on your knees, licking and sucking his cock, eating his ass, fucking him, and all around overstimming him to the point of exhaustion
Imagine: Tav and Zevlor having a child (whether adopted or biological) and astarion is living with them as the sassy gay uncle.
Authors notes: This was supposed to be a shitpost but I just kept typing lmao. I will not be taking questions at this time.
Once the Elder Brain is defeated, you and Zevlor offer Astarion a place to stay. You know Astarion has been through enormous hardship and you don't wish for him to be thrusted into his freedom alone. He won't admit it, but he is very thankful to be able to stay with someone he is familiar with; especially when its day and he can't go outside.
After a year or so of living together, you discover you are pregnant (or discussing the logistics of adopting a child.) Zevlor, an older man who has never had a child of his own, becomes incredibly anxious. One night, in the privacy of the bedroom you two share, he expresses his concern about having a vampire around the baby. "You know I'm not one to judge.. but-" your partner exhales and pauses for a moment. "you're sure its safe to have a baby around a vampire?" You take Zevlor's hand in your own and give it a reassuring squeeze. You explain to him that Astarion is not a bad guy and how he was forced into being a vampire. "You are overthinking, Zev'. I know its difficult.. but please, trust me." You whisper. Zevlor sighs and with a soft smile, he agrees.
Once the child is born your vampire housemate is drawn to the puny creature; tiptoing into the nursery one night to peek over the bassinet as it sobs tiredly. For a moment, he feels awestuck at just how vulnerable the newborn is. Tiny rounded features with softly pointed ears and a teifling tail that is no thicker than a quill. Astarion speaks to the babe quietly, trying his best to keep it from waking it's exhausted parents. "Shhhh little one, its alright." He coos. After a moment of gentle shushing your child stops crying, finding the elf's gentle voice and the soft glow of his ruby eyes soothing. Immediately Astarion feels an unfamiliar warmth spread across his chest; its as if his undead heart is melting straight through his ribcage. He sighs before pulling up a chair and taking a seat next to the cradle. "I suppose its not as if I have anything better to do." he thinks to himself, trying his best to avoid the realm of possibility that he cares for the infant. In the following days, you mention offhandedly to Astarion that the baby has stopped crying at night. Zevlor reiterates you, saying how great it feels to finally get a full nights sleep. Astarion scoffs, giving a quick "Thank gods" before changing the subject.
However, as the years begin to pass, Astarion and your toddler become close. Much to your surprise Astarion starts to volunteer himself to watch your child whenever you or Zevlor express the desire to 'get away'. Although you knew Astarion was safe for your child to be around, you never figured he would actually have genuine interest in them. After all, he was only a close friend. He didn't have to concern himself with your child if he didn't want to and you made sure he knew that. But Astarion can no longer hide behind his usual facade of indifference and arrogance; his affection for your child is slowly becoming evident. Sometimes, Astarion will string himself along the sofa with a wine glass in one hand with your child being supported in the other. "I don't think your mother would appreciate it if I let you have a taste, my dear," he would say, holding his glass to the side as your child reaches for it. "Now, on the otherhand, if I were in charge.."
One afternoon while preparing lunch, you start to hear giggling coming from the hall's entryway behind you. As a protective mother of a michievious child, your interest is piqued. After a moment of thought, you decide to stop what you are doing and investigate. You dust the flour off your apron and stride down the hall, your mind beginning to race with all the possibilities of what your child could be getting into. The noise gets louder and louder as you walk until you approach your child's bedroom. You halt, pressing your ear to the door to listen for a moment but you are unable to make out any string of words. You twist the handle and your eyes widen as you open the door. Before you is Astarion, sat on the floor, with a feather boa around his neck. His wrist is pointing downward and his are fingers spread as your child is holding his pale hand by the knuckle. Upon further investivation you see that your child is painting Astarions nails a glittery black with comically crude level of precision. Astarion slowly turns his head over to you, his eyes half-lidded with mock offense. "Do you mind? I've waited all month for this appointment so you'll just have to come back later. Isn't that right (Your childs name?)" Astarion flashes you a faint reciprocating smile before turning back to your toddler.
If you ask Astarion how he feels about your child he will be very vague with his answer. "Oh, (your childs name?) Cunning little thing isn't she/he. Honestly, I didn't think I met anyone more stubborn than you until you decided to have kids with a tiefling commander." In truth, he absolute adores that kid. If anyone were to make the mistake of trying to lay a finger on your child he wouldn't hesitate to slit their neck.
Both Zevlor and you completely trust Astarion with your child at this point; even considering making him a godfather at one point. If you do decide to make him a godfather, he will get choked up; trying his damnest not to cry as all the emotions he has tried to hide for so long come crashing down.
Can I request headcanons for (poly but none of them are dating yet) Zevlor and Rolan reacting to gn human Tav confessing to both of them but they explained they would understand if they're rejected since they're the same kind who has discriminated them so much? With a happy ending please?
Sweet beautiful Anon! Again I thank you deeply for your patience and am sorry it took so long. I absolutely loved the idea though and turned it into a little fic. It is going to be two chapters and here is part one (second one should be ready later this week lol) Please enjoy the angst and yearning (✿◡‿◡) 💜💜💜
Falling into Place
Pt 1 (pt 2 is Here !🥰)
Reader x Rolan x Zevlor
Light suggestive imagery (the nsfw lives in pt two)
You hadn’t intended on being so bold when you planned to visit Ramazith’s tower, but something in the way the corners of Rolan’s mouth curled as he brushed off your words sent a rush of boldness through you. Even as you sat on the corner of his desk, obscuring part of the map that ran past the edge practically hitting the floor, the wizard kept a playful look in his eye that made your heart pound.
“You know, if I wanted a horrid little creature to disturb my work and make a mess of my things I could have picked up an alley cat by now.” He mused, still pretending to read the papers in his hands.
“You should! You’ve got the room now.” You smiled as Rolan rolled his eyes.“Will you at least consider it?”
“Consider roaming around the countryside- for gods knows how long- looking for a troop of goblins?” He leaned back in his chair throwing the papers to the side. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t sound terribly appealing.”
“Oh come on, won’t it be a nice change from locking yourself in here night and day?” You gesture around you at the chaos of books and scrolls that was his office.
“ Well, hero,” Rolan scoffed. “I am perfectly comfortable in my tower and don’t require saving at the moment. You’ll be the first to know should that change.” He turned his attention back to the map in front of him.
“Please.” You whine. “It’ll be fun! And they’ll just be a few of us. Wyll, Karlach, Zevlor-”
“In that case I must go.” The tiefling wrinkles his nose, cutting you off. For a moment you second guessed how real his annoyance might be. “With all the praise you showered on him after your last little adventure I would have thought him capable of taking down the goblins all by himself.”
“My word, is the great master of Ramazith’s Tower jealous of a paladin?” you tease.
“No.” Rolan snapped quickly. He stood, reaching across the sprawling paper to scribble some notes towards the top. “And could you get off my desk now?”
You didn’t move, rather regarded the wizard and the knit in his brow. It was no secret that he wasn’t the warmest man you’ve known and the signals of his true feelings were sometimes hard to read. Suddenly missing the mild affection he gave you from time to time, you leaned your head against his shoulder causing him to freeze completely.
“Obviously you don’t have to go.” You sighed. “But, I just thought it would be nice. I do like having you around. For some reason.”
He snorted out a small laugh and you could have sworn he shifted closed to you. Even the slight contact brought a smile to your lips.
“Good. The feeling is… mutual.” He paused, his eyes darted about not knowing where to look.“ And I suppose that wizard of yours is still busy boring his students to death?”
“He’s not my wizard. I haven’t got one, unless you’ve suddenly had a change of heart in the last two seconds.” You glance up at him coyly and could have sworn he took a sharp intake of breath.
“Well, it still sounds like a horrible time and I have no real interest in it. However, it would be irresponsible of me to let you lot go on your little adventure without the skills of a wizard. So- to save myself from losing sleep- yes I will-”
You let out a squeal and flung your arms around him causing his words to catch in his throat. Thanking him profusely and you let out a flood of words assuring him his worries were unfounded. Rolan kept still, hardly even breathing, in your embrace. Cautiously, he slid his arms around you and lightly ran his hand up and down your back.
“Now, now, there’s no need for such thanks.” he let out a nervous laugh. “ Not yet anyway. I’m sure I’ll end up pulling you out of some mess before too long.”
The spring in your step as you walked home that evening quickly turned back into worry. It was true that Rolan tagging along would be helpful and- of course- you desperately wanted him around. As the tiefling had advanced in his magical mastery you had seen less and less of him. It made you question if he’d lost some of the little affection he may have held for you. Not that it mattered in the end. You very much doubted you’d have the chance to come clean about your feelings.
You had always taken your time with love affairs, trying to gauge the situation before laying your heart bare. You had a heart overflowing with a care that was more than happy to give to however many people you loved. Of course taking multiple partners wasn’t for everyone and as careful as you were to be honest with potential lovers you had been burned horribly in the past. Rejection was a fear you carried with you now more than ever.
There was no point in lying to yourself anymore. You had never been so in love with two people than you were at the moment. Perhaps serendipity, perhaps a curse, both Rolan and Zevlor had taken your heart utterly. The cleanup and rebuilding of the city would have been impossible without them. They had both spent countless hours at your side ready to aid you in any way you needed. As time pressed on your bonds had deepened and the idea of not having your favourite wizard and paladin in your life broke your heart.
How could you tell either of them the truth when it may mean losing one of your closest friends? Would you have to choose one of them? And if your greatest hope was true and they shared your affection you couldn’t bring yourself to break one of their hearts.
Neither of them had ever indicated how they might feel about having partners. It had never come up in conversation and every time you considered breaching the subject you backed out at the last minute, too afraid of what they may say. As much as you had learned of tiefling culture, you hadn't found anything that may give you a hint. For now the only decision was to try and stay sane while your desire ate you alive.
***
At a glance the journey was off to an excellent start; the weather had been fair and after only a week of travel you had stumbled across a strong lead. The comfortable routine of traveling with your companions was a welcomed change. Rolan seemed in good spirits despite his playful jabs and endless complaints. It was mid way through the second week when everything went south.
The path chosen turned out to be far longer and harder to traverse than you hoped. One with twisting slopes and leaden with brambles and jagged, uneven rocks. After taking a deeply embarrassing tumble, Zevlor had taken to staying at side, ready to offer his hand or an arm to cling to for balance. More than once, perhaps subconsciously, you allowed the contact to pass the need for stability. For a moment you could revel in the dream of having such a kind and gentle man on your arm. Again, you hadn’t meant to over step. The two of you never shied away from physical contact- you’d had plenty of sparring sessions with the man- but there was still an unspoken tension no matter how comfortable you had become. Unlike with Rolan, it was easy to slip over the line- the one you had given yourself- with Zevlor and not even realize it had happened. In the end it always made you feel just as foolish as the night you had invited Rolan. .
To make matters worse the late summer weather had turned uncharacteristically cool and wet. Ending days chilled and soaked to the bone did nothing for morale. As much as you tried to stay optimistic after a few days of truely unpleasant conditions, something in Rolan’s demeanor shifted. His witty remarks turned to a cold silence. He did his duties thoroughly and without complaint all the while seeming a million yards away. You had become certain he was actively avoiding you. Time and again he would distance himself from you however possible. Even when you attempted to assist him he was determined to work alone.
While huddled around a fire for supper with your companions, you found yourself across from Rolan and couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes fell everywhere but forward. As if you weren’t even there. To your surprise Wyll, ever the charismatic one, was able to jump back into a conservation the two had started earlier. The wizard sounded weary but friendly nonetheless. Your gut might as well have sunken into the abyss as you mulled over the past few days. Rolan had become quiet but you had yet to seem in distance himself from Wyll or Karlach. Not as he had done with you and Zevlor. A cold fear ran through your bones at the thought of it being more than bad weather to sour his mood.
The prospects left you dizzy. You couldn’t completely mask the distress in your voice as you made an excuse to retire to your tent. Zevlor followed you, checking if you required any help or healing he could provide. As you reassured him your eyes drifted to the glint of gold shining past his shoulder. You have caught Rolan’s eyes fixed on the two of you before turning back to Wyll.
Most of the night was spent tossing and turning in your bedroll as you tried to quell the endless scenarios in your brain. Tried to swallow down all the tears you’d been holding back for far too long. It felt practically indulgent to imagine Rolan was actually jealous of Zevlor or that he did in fact harbor feelings for you. They both felt out of character for him, or was he just better at hiding it than you had been? Whatever the case, you had awoken early ready to throw yourself into anything that wasn’t thinking about what a fool you’ve been.
Zevlor, as usual, was the only one awake at such an hour. Not wanting to waste the time you had together you decided on a sparring session and settled in a clearing not too far from camp. As skilled a fighter as you were you didn't come close to his mastery of the sword and still had much to learn. As if sensing your need for a distraction Zevlor kept you on your toes, moving with all the grace and ferocity he displayed in a real battle. You were unsure if the stress of your worries had shaken your hand or if Zevlor had finally stopped going easy on you, either way he was subduing you with ease. Frustrations hot in your chest you were becoming more clumsy and frantic with every swing. In a misguided attempt to break the deadlock your shaking arms could barely hold, you tried hooking your foot around Zevlor’s ankle to throw off his balance. However it worked a bit too well, sending the two of you down hard, the tiefling crashing directly on top of you.
You laughed with what little air wasn’t knocked out of your lungs. At the stupid idea, at the befuddled look on Zevlor’s face. You were certain he was about to scold you, but no sound passed his lips. Still breathing hard against you, he studied your face as if trying to solve a riddle. Helpless, you could only gaze up at him. He was a vision, with his hair loose and clinging to his sweat laden brow. A smile bloomed wide across your face. How long had you dreamed of feeling his weight on you? Of looking up into those flaming eyes? Instinctively your hands rose to his shoulders keeping him there. You could feel his breath on your face, the hammering of your heart flooding every vein. Your mind screamed to stop before you only made things worse but you both lingered like this for too long not to act.
Zevlor's whole body tensed as you pressed your lips to his with an aggression he had not been prepared for. Soon he matched your passion and welcomed your curious tongue into his mouth. He moaned your name and you had to fight the urge to wrap your legs around him along with your arms. The worry and uncertainty fell to the back of your mind as your hands found their way across his chest. Dressed down in a tonic, you were able to delight in the pattern of ridges he bore. Your hands roamed everywhere as the paladin’s lips sought to devour you. He moved from mouth to jaw, to neck and back again, kissing and sucking every inch of skin he could find. Drunk on the taste of him, your fingers dipped past his shirt to caress the warm tight muscle of his stomach. Also lost in the sensation he rolled his hips against you causing you both to groan into each other's mouth.
“Stop!” Zevlor tore himself away from you as if burned. Sitting up on his knees he bowed head, red faced and clearly frustrated. “Stop. Please, I don’t want to-to-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, don’t worry.” you move to his side. “I should apologize. I was rash and I haven’t slept and I just-”
“I didn’t want this to happen this way.” His soft eyes meet yours.
You want to ask what he means yet it seems a better solution to leave and blame your actions on the lack of sleep. But the warmth radiating from his weathered face held you like a spell.
“I- the time never felt quite right. And you deserve nothing less than a proper courting, to be adorned with lovely things and beautiful words. However, you know-you must know-” the former commander cups your face with a shocking amount of gentleness for such rough hands. “That I adore you.”
Zevlor’s searched your face. As hard as you tried to steal yourself you couldn’t push down the rush of joy; the pleading in your eyes that invited him into another kiss.
This time his mouth moved slowly, tenderly; it held a sort of honesty that made you shiver. You tried not to get ahead of yourself but you swear you can feel his longing in every movement, as if he had been holding back just as you had. You could feel the grin on those perfectly full lips when he pulled away. Everything you’re about to say leaves your mind as Zevlor's eyes darted suddenly to something behind you. A chill runs down your spine as you whip around to see Rolan standing in the tree line. His look of genuine shock melted into a disdainful grimace.
“There’s breakfast ready. If you’re so inclined.” Rolan spat out before turning on his heel to hastily march back to camp.
Panicked, you jumped to your feet. Calling after the wizard repeatedly only made him move quicker leaving you standing there face hot, pushing down the lump in your throat. You were rooted to the spot, breathing hard. Zevlor’s eyes were on you- you were sure of it- but you didn’t dare look at him.
“I don’t mean to pry,” the tiefling spoke softly. “Have I, perhaps, misjudged the situation?”
“No, Zevlor. I- Gods I'm mad for you. It’s just- I just-it’s hard to-” you fought to keep your voice steady.
“It’s complicated.” His lips held a smile that could not mask the disappointment in his eyes. “I understand. I’ve had my fair share of complications when it comes to romance. And Rolan is a quite accomplished young man.”
“I don’t know what I'm doing. I’m sorry.” you breathed.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. I have heard it said that the course of true love never did run smooth. Should you need to talk or anything really, don’t hesitate to find me.” He affirmed and kissed your hand.
As the two of you made your way back, Zevlor chuckled to himself.
“I must say I am relieved to know that all my worries of you not having an interest in tieflings were unfounded.” He grinned.
Despite your tempest of emotions you couldn’t help but laugh.
SUMMARY: Where the reader takes care of the Hellriders horses and gentle commander Zevlor is the first one to notice her hard work.
Written in the middle of the night. Just a short one.
Wordcount: About a 1000
Fluff
Growing up on a farm thought her how to best care for many animals.
But beyond that, a profound love for all creatures had grown.
And she would not part with any of it, from the awe-inspiring ickiness of birth, to the solemnity of death. Not even now, after she had moved to the city.
People couldn't quite comprehend why she still chose to work amidst the mud and manure when the urban landscape could offer her so much more. She had found the transition from her rural upbringing to city just too great to entirely leave her roots behind. Each feeding, grooming, and tending to the Hellrider's horses provided her with a grounding stability amidst the chaos of urban living.
Back in her hometown, she had her family – people unafraid to dirty their hands, indifferent to titles and fancy attire. It was all love and warmth, and while she missed the comfort of home, the small town had no more opportunities to offer her. What she hadn't fully anticipated was the profound loneliness that accompanied setting out on her own.
The pungent smell and the messiness of her tasks likely explained the lack of people around as she worked. Occasionally, someone would arrive to pick up the horses, but they paid her little mind, even as she assisted them in retrieving saddles and reins.
"But you are a good boy, aren't you?" She spoke out loud, stroking the stallion between his ears. "You always wish me a good morning, don't you?" The horse nickered in response, pawing at the floor, ready for more attention. She stroked its soft and warm nose and pressed a kiss on its fur. "Don't tell the others, but you are my favorite." She laughed at her own words, at the absurdity of talking to a horse.
"Don't worry; this one's not the gossiping type." A voice nearby startled her, causing her to pull away from the horse with a jump. The horse, equally startled, blew air forcefully from its nose in response. "God's, I'm sorry. I should not have approached you two like this," the man said. "It's alright," she replied, her heartbeat gradually returning to normal. "No harm done. Just caught me off guard, is all." She offered a reassuring smile to the man, appreciating his concern for both her and the horse.
She didn't recognize the man's face, but the distinct armor and insignia emblazoned upon it were unmistakable. "Commander," she acknowledged with a quick bow.
"Zevlor," he replied, extending his hand.
"Commander Zevlor," she repeated, then hesitated, glancing down at her hands, coated in dirt and grease. "I'm dirty, I should not sha-"
"Nonsense," he interrupted with a warm smile, dismissing her concerns. "Nothing dirty about it, especially not from my own horse," he explained, shaking her hand with enthusiasm. His smile was quite infectious, his handshake strong and warm as she told him her name.
"You have a good horse, Commander Zevlor.''
"Yes, and you seem to know your way around him. He's usually much more standoffish," Zevlor observed, reaching out to his horse and patting its neck with care. She imagined those hands, currently gentle with the horse, gripping reins firmly, leading his mount into the chaos of battle. It was a stark contrast, the tenderness he displayed now versus the potential harshness required in the heat of conflict. "I must confess, I haven't noticed you here before. Have you joined us recently?" he asked.
"About a month now, sir," she replied, her gaze fixed on the commander as he interacted with the horse. "But don't worry. Most people don't notice me; I am often crouched behind the stable walls, and it's easy to avoid someone covered in hay and muck."
"No, the fault is mine. I should have inquired about those caring for my horse. And for doing so, I thank you," Zevlor said graciously, looking at her. His demeanor was far gentler than she had anticipated from previous encounters with other commanders. It made her smile back in return.
"Just doing my job, Commander," she responded , though in her heart, she knew it was more than just a job. Her dedication to the care of these animals mirrored the commitment others had to their weapons. Zevlor's acknowledgment made her feel seen, a rarity in her routine. "You need your horse?"
"Yes, please," the commander replied.
She strode past him, toward the tack room, retrieving the saddle and bridle with practiced efficiency. Reentering the stable, she was met by the horse's gentle whinny. Zevlor followed her inside the stable and without a a word, he took the bridle from her hands, allowing her to settle the saddle onto the horse's back. Zevlor swiftly attended to the bridle before standing beside her, offering his silent assistance once more.
Making room for him, she started adjusting the straps of the saddle. Their hands brushed softly as they both reached for the same strap, a fleeting physical connection that sent a warm shiver through her.
The heat rose to her cheeks as she suddenly lost her composure. Zevlor, sensing the pause in her movements, glanced down at her, his eyes momentarily meeting hers. Feeling his gaze on her, her heart started to race, and she found it difficult to maintain eye contact. Mortified by her own reaction, she wished she could disappear into the stable walls, or cover herself in hay and crawl off.
Summoning all her composure, she forced herself to speak, though her voice came out as a mere whisper. "Thank you, Commander, for your help." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she cursed herself for letting her nerves get the better of her in his presence.
"It's my pleasure," he spoke.
She double-checked if everything was adjusted accordingly before she took the reins in her hands, gently guiding the stallion out of its stable. The horse swung its neck in excitement at the newfound space to move around. She gave the reins to Zevlor, and as he led his horse away, he spoke. "I will see you soon, (y/n)."
Hearing him remember her name, she couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness, worsening the already excisting blush on her cheek. As he walked away, she watched him go, already feeling nervous and excited at the thought of their next encounter.
Caught the BG3 Brain Rot AND a deep love of the tieflings, hithero referred to as "my cabbages!" No, seriously, I've been screaming about them like the guy from ATLA.
Anyway, WIP preview, playing with some Tav X Zevlor, which will eventually be some Zevlor X Halsin, and maybe some poly dynamics. Look, I just want to poke sad old men with a stick and then feed them cheese.
This preview has light spoilers for early Act I side quests. I have not beat the game, I'm still in Act 3, so please be mindful of spoilers. This is spicy but not explicit.
“How do you do it?” you grumbled, perched on a crate and resting your forehead on the cool stone table, your eyes closing as you reviewed your day. “From harpies, to bugbear assassins, to evil druid-controlled child-tormenting serpents, how do you keep these people alive? I mean, honestly, Zevlor, I’ve only been at it for like a day, and I’m exhausted.”
Zevlor, the tiefling-wrangler in question, gave a dry humorless laugh. “You assumed it was easy?”
“No,” you muttered. “I’m just gobsmacked by the sheer variety of ways they get into trouble. You have my deepest respect and my most heartfelt sympathies.” You stayed facedown while you spoke, which might have detracted from the authenticity of the delivery, but alas.
About a meter away, Tilses snorted. “Have you met Mol yet?”
“Have I met Mol?” you laughed, and it might have been a sob. “Have I met the future legendary patron of the Thieves Guild, you mean? Have I met a force of chaos constrained in a tiny tief package? Have I counted my purse half a dozen times today? Where do I even start?”
Zevlor groaned, clearly not interested in delving into that subject.
Tilses laughed. “You should have seen the time she-”
“Tilses, it’s getting late: you don’t have to stay,” Zevlor said.
“But-”
“Tilses, it’s getting late: you’re dismissed.”
You didn’t need to use your illithid powers to read the subtext in the room. Small talk aside, Tilses didn’t want to leave Zevlor alone with an outsider. Zevlor, however, didn’t seem worried. It could be that he thought you were trustworthy, but it was more likely that he knew that it didn’t matter if she was here. If you decided to turn on him, her presence wouldn’t make a bit of difference.
You could picture his expression easily, that no-nonsense frown, accentuated by the severity of his hellfire eyes and sharp ridged bones. He wasn’t exactly scary, but he had a quiet dignified gravitas that you and Tilses lacked; the kind of man was used to being in charge. Still, Tilses wouldn’t argue, not with you here.
“Understood, sir.”
Military discipline was a hard habit to shake, or so you heard. You smiled as you as her steps faded in the distance and the stone door grinding open and shut. And then there were two.
“I don’t blame you for Mol,” you said. “Obviously, the circumstances are shaping that one, and it would take more resources than you, me, or the entire Grove has to alter her trajectory.”
Zevlor sighed. “...I don’t think I’m capable of discussing Mol’s future right now.” There came a soft grunt and you didn’t have to open your eyes to know that the tiefling was sitting on the table across from you, just a few handspans away. If you lifted your head, he would probably move away, so you stayed there, the slight dissonance of his aura making your ears ring. You didn’t mind though. Things that might have bothered you a week ago couldn’t really match up to a godsdamned mindflayer tadpole swimming through your brain.
Some tieflings possessed a discomforting presence, akin to knowing you were being stalked by an apex predator, or that feeling of something alien crawling across your skin, or that screaming gut instinct that warned you when truly dark magics were abound. It was an involuntary inheritance, a side effect of being part devil, or at least having their human bloodlines tainted by a Hellish pact. But you knew better than most that biology didn’t override character.
Zevlor was a striking model of an Asmodeus tiefling: deep red skin, sharp features, and a pair of thick black horns twisting out of his skull. From what you heard, that strain got well and truly screwed over by their progenitor devil lord’s plotting.
“Would you like something to drink?” A cork popped and there was the clink of metal cups sitting on the table.
“Is it poison?” you asked. “Because I’ve got some lovely wyvern poison of my own. No need to dip into your personal stores.”
“That would be a poor repayment for all the help you’ve given,” Zevlor said, his tone mild.
You didn’t think he was offended. Hard to say. He was difficult to read, unless you decided to use your illithid powers, but then- People didn’t like it when you did that. You didn’t always like it when you did that.
He poured the drinks, and you slowly raised your head, lured out by your own dry mouth.
Zevlor was standing now, he gestured to the uncorked bottle, which sat beside the cups in front of you, all of it available for your inspection.
“Ashaba Dusk?” you asked, sniffing the common wine.
“It’s not so bad,” he said.
It figured that he liked red wines. You wondered if he smoked a pipe too. “You seem like the type to prefer a Gulthmeran Reserve.” It was a dryer red, complex with stronger mineral taste. Something suited for the palate of a stoic older man.
Zevlor’s lips twitched. “Is that so?”
“Am I wrong?”
“I wouldn’t say “no” to a bottle. But finding one out here might prove difficult,” he said as you chose your cup, pretty certain that none of it was poisoned. After all, they still needed your help dealing with the goblins, defanging Kagha, and rescuing the Archdruid. Logic made rationalization easy, even though you had no logical reason to be here alone with this man.
The wine wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. You drank it though. Today had been long, and you weren't going to turn your nose up at his hospitality.
The two of you finished your cups and sat in an almost comfortable silence. Your shoulders lowered incrementally and you basked in his calm company. You were on your second round of refills before he spoke again. “Was there something you wished to discuss?” he asked, fixing that burning stare on you.
Your stomach flip-flopped, but you just raised your cup and took a drink, buying yourself a few seconds to compose your words. “Just enjoying the ambiance.”
His brow furrowed, and he looked around the cave, clearly trying to figure out what you were referring to. The air in the chamber was cool, there were a couple shelves lined with books, and the candlelight was warm and golden. There were no fleshpits, no bloodstains, and nothing was trying to kill you. Best of all, you could not hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel bickering. To be fair, Lae’zel sniped at everyone, but Shadowheart got so damn shrill about it.
“Look, my...friends are nice and all, but sometimes they’re a bit much,” you said. “I’m taking a break from being mediator.”
“Ah,” he said. He rested his chin in his hand, thoughtfully. “I can lend you the chamber. Would you like some privacy?”
You winced. “No, no, I’m enjoying the company too.”
“I see,” he said, brow furrowing momentarily. He refilled your cup, sitting on the edge of the table farthest from you.
You studied the map of Elturel on the desk, while sipping your unpoisoned wine. And then a thought occurred to you much too late. “Oh gods, I’m intruding, aren’t I?” you groaned. “Look, don’t feel obligated. I’ve found a ton of great hiding spots in the Grove. I can take a dip in the sacred pool. There are some very private corners in the library. Hell, I can even go camp out with Mol.”
“...Don’t do that,” Zevlor grimaced.
“You’re right. She absolutely doesn’t need access to wyvern poison. I’ll go sit with Dammon. Aside from the hammering and the smithing, he’s pretty quiet.”
You’re not intruding,” Zevlor said, forcefully. “My hosting skills are simply rusty. I...welcome the chance to practice.”
“Oh,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t a believable reason in the least, but it did seem that he wasn’t trying to shoo you out. At least, you felt more confident that you were not unwelcome.
Zevlor studied your face. “How do you find Dammon’s company?”
“He’s a good kid and so cheerful in the face of everything that’s happened. I’m impressed by his attitude and his skills,” you said. “He’s helping me keep my tiefling in good shape.” Karlach was a certified badass, but she still needed extra special care. Gods, now that you thought about it, tieflings were like exotic fish, it was a real struggle to keep them alive.
Zevlor nodded. “We’re lucky to have him.” He set the empty bottle down and looked over his shoulder at the worn down storage crates, clearly considering the state of his supplies. He was a lean man, and while the kids were small, it was clear that the adults weren’t letting them go hungry. He likely didn’t have a lot to spare.
“Oh! I’ve got a bottle of Ithbank in my pack – the good kind.” You quickly dug into your bag and pulled it out. You were considering trying to bribe Asterion with it, but honestly, he would probably just turn his nose up at the unimpressive offer. You rummaged around your supply pack and found some cheese wedges, ham, a loaf of sourdough bread, and the treasure you scored while exploring. Looking around furtively, you pulled a small ripe sunmelon out and winked. “I know everyone is eating apples, but I’m sick of things trying to poison me-”
“You’ve mentioned poison very frequently today. How often does this happen to you?” Zevlor asked, looking concerned.
“Well, just this week-” You tried to think back. “The bandits, the goblins, some traps, the swamp apples, Nettie-”
“The healer?” Zevlor sounded alarmed.
“Yeah, because of the whole parasite infection thing,” you muttered, the wine loosening your tongue. Only a select few knew that you were carrying mindflayer tadpoles, and he was one of them since you had to explain to him why you were able to just walk into the Absolute camp without raising the alarm. “Look, the point is, I’m put off apples for awhile.” You pulled out a clean food knife – not a dagger, people applied all sorts of deadly coatings to their weapons – and eyed the cheese.
Zevlor rose and brought over clean plates and more cutlery. There was an economy to his motions, a careful precision to everything, no wasted movement. No tells either. This man tried to keep his cards very close to his chest.
It was very different from the first time you met, when he was shouting orders and coming down from the post-battle fury and the loss of one of his charges. Rage uncoiled all those carefully suppressed feelings and destroyed self control: you understood that feeling all too well. The contrast was interesting, you liked watching him.
You made a nice little plate cubes of cheese and ham, slices of bread, and cut your half of the melon into long wedges. Zevlor made a neat sandwich and chopped his melon into bite-sized chunks. This time you poured the Ithbank while Zevlor watched.
He took a sip. “This is nice. Thank you,” he said quietly.
“It really is,” you smiled, biting into the melon and getting some down your chin. The flavor was honey sweet, the flesh luscious and crisp under your teeth. You happily licked your fingers, slurping down the juice. Fuck, these were so much better than apples, and absolutely worth fighting a bunch of bandits for.
When you looked up, Zevlor was staring down at the table.
“I’m being messy, aren't I?” you muttered, wiping your mouth off. The heady combination of too much wine, sweet melon, and the company was making you sloppy. “Sorry.”
“No, no, you’re fine,” Zevlor coughed and poured himself some more wine, averting his eyes. He carefully bit into his melon cubes. His tongue flicked out and he licked his lips, closing his eyes. “That is delicious,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his tail swishing behind him.
Satisfied that he was enjoying his fruit, you devoured your slices too quickly, eating them down to the rind. When you looked up, Zevlor was only half finished, clearly taking his time and really savoring the experience.
“These are better than apples,” he said, glancing down at your empty plate. He speared a chunk of melon and extended his fork. “I don’t know if I can finish all this though.”
A damned lie if you ever heard one, and between Wyll and Asterion, you heard a lot of creative truths. You took a swig of wine and met that burning gaze, your breath catching. “I’ll take a bite,” you said. “But you clearly aren’t eating enough. You really should take better care of yourself, Zevlor.”
You leaned forward, delicately took the melon between your teeth, and pulled it off the tines. You gave the utensil a light parting bite, never looking away from Zevlor’s face.
He swallowed audibly, but his hand did not shake and he did not draw back. He just watched you with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched, those sharp nails digging into his palms, his tail snapping from side to side. That tension was familiar. You remembered a similar strained look back when he got into a confrontation with that asshole mercenary. Maybe you were pushing him too far.
“Have I offended you?” you asked a little sheepishly. You did just take his food from him while insinuating that he was bad at taking care of himself.
“No,” he said gruffly, his voice an octave lower. “But are you going to claim that you don’t know what you’re doing?”
You smiled, lowering your eyes in amusement. “I’m just enjoying the ambiance.”
Zevlor gave a low exhalation, those orange eyes burning intently as he regarded you. “The situation is difficult enough,” he said, his voice harsh. “Hells, teasing an old man is cruel.”
You blinked. “I’ve seen you fight, Zevlor. I’d hardly call you old.” You met his gaze. “And teasing is only cruel if one doesn’t intend to follow through.” You stood, the wine giving you a cocksure recklessness that you would not possess sober. You leaned over the table, nearly nose to nose with him, baring your teeth in a grin. “I’ll deal with Kagha tomorrow. We’ll figure out the goblins after that. And then, if you’re still interested, let’s do something about it.”
Zevlor stiffened, his eyes widening, his lips parting in shock.
You took a swig of the Ithbank, and slammed it down next to him, lifting one of those calloused hands to your lips. You brushed your mouth against the inside of his wrist and then caught his index finger between your teeth. You sucked it down to the knuckle, tasting the blended salt and sulfur of his skin and the sweet stickiness of the melon. The heat of the digit made you want more than this, but you had to be careful with those sharp nails.
Zevlor’s nostrils flared, those brimstone eyes burning as he gritted his teeth, your name a hoarse curse in his mouth.
“And if you’re not interested,” you said, lowering his hand gently. “That’s fine too. It’s entirely up to you. We can just blame the wine.”
And with that, you turned on your heel and left, before you did something really stupid. It didn’t matter though, the fire was already in your veins and the taste of him lingered on your tongue.
Hi! Saw you taking requests and in case you write headcanons for multiple characters can I ask for Rolan, Zevlor and Halsin with g/n Tav who comes out as asexual once they start dating? And perhaps Tav is low key expecting to be rejected by their new partner after this revelation just to be met with reassurance
Coming out as asexual to Zevlor / Halsin
Hi sweet anon, here is your request.
I am not asexual myself, so I hope I did this hc some justice. <3
Thank you for your ask.
(lmk if I am in anyway insensitive about the topic)
Zevlor
The love in his eyes whenever he spoke to you, the way he clung to every word you uttered, and the gentle softening of his frown whenever you passed by—all these moments resonated deeply, reflecting the profound connection you shared.
He was your soulmate, your steadfast rock, the companion to whom you could always turn with every fiber of your being.
However, you sensed a shift in the air, an unspoken desire for your relationship to progress further. It left you feel overwhelmed, as you felt a slight pressure stirring inside of you whenever he drew near.
He noticed it too, observing the slight tremble in your hands.
"It's not who I am," you told him, placing your hands on his face and pressing your forehead against his, shielding yourself from his reaction.
"I—" he cleared his throat, gently taking your hands from his face, ensuring you couldn't hide behind them, "I just need you by my side, my sweet love," he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours, "and I'll have you there in any way that you feel comfortable with." Taking your hands, he pressed them to his lips.
Halsin
You pondered his potential reaction, aware of the depth of your affection for him and his unwavering love in return.
Despite this connection, you couldn't ignore the primal urges that coursed through him, leading you to question if he could still be bound to you even without that same physical magnetism.
In the midst of these swirling thoughts, uncertainty gripped you. Would the strength of your emotional bond withstand the primal forces that seemed to guide him? Could you find unity despite your differing desires? Despite the doubts clouding your mind, one truth remained resolute: your love for him was profound.
So standing befor ehim, you mustered to courage. Your eyes misted over as you spoke, your hands slightly trembling beside your form. Searching his gaze, you found no disappointment, no fleeting sadness. Instead, his eyes remained tranquil, fixed upon you with the same sense of wonder as before. Perhaps his smile was even wider as he recognized how much you had grown to trust him.
"My star," he began, his voice steady and filled with sincerity, "my love for you transcends mere physicality. My heart will beat the same for you, and I will gladly tame the tidal waves inside of me if that means I can embrace the truth of your being."
He opens his arms for you to step into. An embrace was what you needed. A reassurance. It would all be okay.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 16/?
Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Halsin/Tav/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate), Halsin/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Zevlor/Tav, Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Halsin/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Zevlor (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Halsin/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate), Halsin (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Lae'zel/Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Dammon/Karlach (Baldur's Gate)
Characters: Tav (Baldur's Gate), Zevlor (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Halsin (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate), Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Tilses (Baldur’s Gate), Mol (Baldur's Gate), Arabella (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Dammon (Baldur's Gate), Abdirak (Baldur's Gate), Nettie (Baldur's Gate), Raphael (Baldur's Gate), Jaheira (Baldur's Gate), Rolan (Baldur's Gate), He Who Was (Baldur's Gate)
Additional Tags: Zevlor deserves comfort, Reader Insert, Female Tav - Freeform, Switch Zevlor, Sneaky Moral Tav, Light BDSM, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Alcohol, Being a dubious influence on children, Biting, Apparently we're developing a hand kink, Chapters marked for spoilers, The group is inching towards becoming one big polycule, Meanwhile I'm just bullying sad old men, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Self indulgent and not sorry, Sneaking some fluff in with my sin, Everyone is stressed and poly and dtf instead of getting therapy, I'm the guy from ATLA screaming about my cabbages and by cabbages I mean my tieflings damnit, Sub Drop, questionable communication skills, Prehensile Tails, Oral Sex, Oral Fixation, Anal Sex, Everyone knows Halsin has a breeding kink, Zevlor might too, Hell no to the babies though, Threesome - F/M/M, Crying during sex and it isn't Tav, The adults try to honestly discuss their problems, This does not include Astarion yet lol, Rough Sex, Aftercare, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Angst, Demisexual Astarion (Baldur's Gate)
Series: Part 2 of Through the Gates of Horn and Oak
Summary:
The battle at Moonrise is done. Ketheric Thorm is dead. But that has not solved all your problems.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 9/?
Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Halsin/Tav/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate), Halsin/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Zevlor/Tav, Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Halsin/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Zevlor (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Halsin/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate), Halsin (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Lae'zel/Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Dammon/Karlach (Baldur's Gate)
Characters: Tav (Baldur's Gate), Zevlor (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Halsin (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate), Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Tilses (Baldur’s Gate), Mol (Baldur's Gate), Arabella (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Dammon (Baldur's Gate), Abdirak (Baldur's Gate), Nettie (Baldur's Gate), Raphael (Baldur's Gate), Jaheira (Baldur's Gate), Rolan (Baldur's Gate), He Who Was (Baldur's Gate)
Additional Tags: Zevlor deserves comfort, Reader Insert, Female Tav - Freeform, Switch Zevlor, Sneaky Moral Tav, Light BDSM, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Alcohol, Being a dubious influence on children, Biting, Apparently we're developing a hand kink, Chapters marked for spoilers, The group is inching towards becoming one big polycule, Meanwhile I'm just bullying sad old men, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Self indulgent and not sorry, Sneaking some fluff in with my sin, Everyone is stressed and poly and dtf instead of getting therapy, I'm the guy from ATLA screaming about my cabbages and by cabbages I mean my tieflings damnit, Sub Drop, questionable communication skills, Prehensile Tails, Oral Sex, Oral Fixation, Anal Sex, Everyone knows Halsin has a breeding kink, Zevlor might too, Hell no to the babies though, Threesome - F/M/M, Crying during sex and it isn't Tav, The adults try to honestly discuss their problems, This does not include Astarion yet lol, Rough Sex, Aftercare, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Angst
Summary:
Here in these cursed lands, you just need something to go right. Hope springs eternal, bringing new revelations and new ways to find heartbreak.
