hi it's chicken i had a Thought about capitano. brain empty this thought has probably been thunk before but what if he's weak to being called pretty/handsome/beautiful. (extremely vaguely set in the hot springs post bc it's on the brain) call him so handsome and he just. freezes for a second. then, quiet and just the tiniest bit hopeful, "say that again." obviously of course he knows you think he's hot, or at least really good at sex, because you keep coming back, but handsome, now, that's a new one. a really, really nice new one. people have after all called him a hideous monster before (no taste, you scoff at that) and it's not as if he's particularly torn up about it, more of a fact of life honestly, but it's unexpectedly really nice to have a partner who thinks he's pretty. oh the look on his face when you admit you've thought he's handsome since the first time you saw him, you just didn't say anything bc you didn't think it needed saying ahh i fucking love this guy
side note/addendum i love him so much i reported/blocked Twenty-Three porn bots out of his tag today. endless fucking trench war
capitano marching off to fight the pornbots in his tag so his thirsty followers can live in peace lmao
but noooooo, now i'm brainrotting about soft capitano :((((( he knows he's fearsome, he knows he's scary and intimidating. it's partially why he wears his helmet and rarely undresses around others. he wants everyone to be able to approach him if they're in need of help, and he's aware that they can't really do that if they're terrified of him
so when you're straddled on his lap, enjoying the natlan hot spring, running your hand through his hair and scratching his mandibles and you quietly coo about how handsome he is, something just... melts in him that he didn't realize even existed. his entire body relaxes suddenly, you feel any tension in his jaw just release at that moment. and he slowly shifts you, pressing you closer as he starts kissing at your neck, pleased clicks and chuffs vibrating through his mandibles.
that night it's different. he's somehow softer than normal, chuffing and purring and groaning into your ear, louder than normal. his clawed hands are light and gentle, caressing instead of grasping and scratching like he usually does. he's used to his partners enjoying roughness and scratches, but now there's a sort of... protectiveness that he's feeling towards you. now he's scared that he'll hurt you. so he withdraws his claws for the evening, running his scaled hands all over your sensitive spots he's learned like the back of his hand.
and when you're finally spent for the night, dozing off in your bed, he pushes himself into your arms, pressing his face into your chest. you're a bit confused at first, laughing softly as you start running your hand through his hair.
but then, in the quietest voice possible, something you could have never imagined capitano managing, you hear a quiet, "that's the first time someone has ever called me handsome. thank you."
and so you make sure to call him handsome. every day, sometimes every hour if your schedules work for it. and you simply adore the way you watch him visibly relax and soften every time.
I such simp
il capitano
I'm talking gossip. Grade A shit talking with your bf when someone you don't like is just out of earshot. Sometimes, when they're still in earshot if the two of you hate the person enough.
Him, nearly knocking heads with you in his rush to make a sly comment about a particularly atrocious pair of shoes that an enemy is wearing. You doing your best not to burst out laughing and failing miserably bc he's right (obviously), and now that's all you can look at while the big-bad is making their big-bad speech. He's gotten so good at talking to you out of the side of his mouth, it's honestly impressive.
You, side-eyeing him to make sure he also heard that one dumb thing someone said, and sure enough he's meeting your gaze a millisecond later. The two of you perfected the art of having the most judgy conversations with your eyes only. He slow blinks whenever he's particularly unimpressed. You make your eye twitch to ask "can we just kill this guy, already?" The eye rolls from the two of you alone cause 2d8 psychic damage at this point.
You're just always making eachother laugh tbh.
You pretend to fall asleep on Astarion's shoulder and snore whenever someone's going on and on about something neither of you care about, and he has to turn fully away from you to keep a straight face. Sometimes when he's REALLY annoyed, he'll slowly pull out a dagger and feign stabbing at someone when they're turned away- and you can't even pretend to be disapproving bc you're about to piss your pants.
One of your favorite things the two of you do is play fight.
The first time it happened, it started out as a genuine disagreement. You said something stupid- or maybe he said something stupid, neither of you can remember- but whatever it was became a serious back and forth that could have ended in tears if one of you hadn't stopped and realized how utterly stupid the two of you sounded.
All it took was one look into eachother's eyes- the absolute worst one-liner you could conjure from the back of your brain and all was forgiven. The argument soon devolved into a quip-off so intense that the rest of camp couldn't even tell you weren't actually angry anymore.
You've done it for fun a couple times, now. Usually, it's bc you're in the mood to annoy the rest of your companions after they've given you a rough day.
Astarion initiates it this time- bc he wants to be a nuisance to poor Gale, who's just trying to read his book by the warmth of the campfire. Though luckily for him, it's such a ridiculous display that it doesn't last long.
You're seething. Boots slapping hard in the mud as you storm across camp to get Astarion by the shoulders- your hold delicate despite the venom in your tone. It looks like you're shaking him a little, but you aren't. The vampire is just vibrating from having to reign in his laughter.
You look ridiculous.
"Oh, yeah? Why don't you say that into my fucking mouth, then?"
Gale looks up from his book in confusion, only to see an equally not angry Astarion fist his hands into the fabric of your cloak and yank you closer.
"Maybe I will." He growls, or maybe laughs? Gale doesn't know at this point. He's too busy shutting his book, and walking briskly to his tent- far, far away from the giggly make-out session you're about to have in Astarion's tent.
Another traditional art, but this time it's Enoch
I love this pumpkin so much!
And his catskin of course:3