#and he's adorable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rahuratna · 11 days ago

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Synopsis: Your attempt to surprise Astarion with a thoughtful gift goes awry when his innate curiosity and suspicion lead him, again and again, to the wrong conclusions ... [Astarion x Tav/Reader]

Genres: Romance, humour, fluff, angst.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

(Hello Readers, I'm a little under the weather and needed to write some tooth-rotting fluff and humour, as always).

"What are you three mumbling about?"

Straightening sharply, you shot your companions a warning look. Gale scratched his ear awkwardly while Shadowheart, bless her soul, stared down her nose at Astarion, supremely unconcerned.

You cleared your throat.

"Nothing important, Astarion. We've got everything we need for now. Let's head back to camp."

He didn't question you further, but you had definitely aroused his curiosity, if not his suspicion.

You could sense it in the way his gaze traveled rapidly between the three of you as you made your way back, as if he'd catch any stray motion or gesture that might give away your hidden purpose.

That evening, as you replenished your quiver of arrows and checked your stock of potions, Astarion approached and settled on one of your cushions, lounging casually.

He did this every so often, when the fancy took him, or when he wanted to have a conversation, but something about the wary glint in his eye told you exactly what was on his mind.

Oh dear.

As much as you'd had plenty of practice deflecting questions over time, going up against the master of deception himself was somewhat daunting.

You granted him your most disarming smile and attempted a distraction.

"Do you want to drink from me tonight?"

He cocked his head, the curve of his lips familiar, dangerous.

"Of course, darling. But you know ... "

He leaned forward, watching you intently.

"I couldn't help but notice the conversation you had with Gale and Shadowheart earlier. Why can't you tell me what it's all about? I'm closest to you, aren't I? We've shared so many things ... nights, bedrolls, blood ... so why not this one little thing?"

You sighed and straightened.

You should have known it would play on his mind like this. It wasn't entirely fair to him either. In spite of his guarded demeanour, all shielded smiles and barbed words, he was somewhat vulnerable when it came to you and your slowly budding relationship.

"Look, I really can't tell you because ... well, it's a surprise."

He looked taken aback.

"A surprise? I don't much care for surprises."

"This one is harmless, I assure you. And it's worth waiting for. You will find out soon enough."

He hummed and tutted, still looking rather put out.

"And you trusted Gale and Shadowheart with your surprise, and not me? I'm rather hurt."

His tone was playful, but you could see that his curiosity had not been dispelled.

Over the next few days, he was far more watchful than usual. It was actually rather endearing, at times. He seemed to be on the lookout for what the elusive 'surprise' could be and grew rather moody when he kept getting it wrong.

First, there was the incident with the chocolatier. You'd come across the newly opened store in the city and the smell coming from within had been far too appetising to ignore. When you'd tugged Astarion's sleeve and gestured to the door, he'd been on instant alert.

Following you into the shop, he'd glanced around uncertainly, until the eagle-eyed chocolatier had suggested, with twirl of his magnificent mustache, that he also dealt in 'custom-made delicacies' with 'special fillings' for his 'nocturnal customers'.

You'd immediately purchased some of these for Astarion, and others for those at camp, and happily made your way out of the store.

On the road back, Astarion was staring quietly, from time to time, at the small package in his hand. You bumped his shoulder gently with yours.

"Oh, go on. Try one. They must be delicious."

He shook himself out of his reverie and offered you a slightly brittle smile, fingers curling around the chocolates as if they were something far more precious.

"Oh. Well, I thought I'd save these for later, you know. We could ... sit together in your tent and have some wine. And eat these. I ... do appreciate your little surprise, you know."

You stopped dead in the road, eyes widening.

"Wait. Astarion ... this is not the surprise I had in mind."

He froze.

"What?"

"This is... not the surprise. I just wanted to treat you to something."

His gaze slid away from yours, mouth working in what looked like embarrassment. You took mercy on him and leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the cheek, then at the corner of his lips. He turned back to you slowly, regaining some semblance of composure.

"We can still have them in your tent later?"

You grinned.

"Naturally."

The second time he'd made an incorrect guess occurred on one evening, when he'd come to your tent for replenishment.

You'd lain back on the cushions which he'd arranged more comfortably under your head and neck, before tilting your gaze upward, ready to descend into a deep sleep after he'd had his fill of your blood.

Astarion hovered over you, taking you in. You reached up and stroked a finger down his cheek, smiling, assuring him that he could go ahead.

Truth be told, you were a little excited for him to drink from you tonight. Earlier, Jaheira had informed you of a specific exotic fruit, the unique sugars of which persisted in the bloodstream for some time after consumption. You'd tracked down that particular fruit in the market, consuming it as soon as possible under Jaheira's knowing glance.

You wondered whether Astarion would be able to distinguish the flavour. This thought was also accompanied by a healthy dose of nerves.

What if he hated it?

It was rather late to have second thoughts, however, as Astarion was already leaning over you, fangs tracing the side of your throat. He grazed over your skin gently, as was his habit, before locating your pulse point and sinking in. The delicate pressure, the icy slide of teeth into flesh, the sudden warmth of your blood exiting the wound, all familiar sensations.

Thus far, nothing out of the ordinary.

Until a few moments later, when Astarion's eyes shot open and he separated from you with a small exclamation.

Before you had a chance to question what had caused the interruption, he was at your neck again, lapping eagerly, then leaning back, tracing his tongue over his fangs. His eyes met yours, surprise and pleasure building to something far more heated.

"Darling, what have you eaten today?"

You couldn't help the laugh that burst from you.

"So you can taste it. It's a ... specific type of fruit that Jaheira mentioned to me."

You lowered your eyelids coyly at him, for once, the one playing the hook.

"So, what do you think of the flavour?"

He crawled up over you once more, peppering soft, wet kisses from your chest up to the base of your neck, moaning in delight.

"Nothing beats your natural flavour, my sweet, but this ... this adds a touch of honey that's just ... delectable."

His voice was now a full throated purr, and you struggled to contain your small huffs of amusement as he nuzzled into you, clearly very enamoured of your choice to treat him today.

Once he'd drunk his fill, he remained above you, eyeing you with ill-concealed passion.

"So this was your great surprise. I have to thank you for that. That particular fruit is ... rather hard to get hold of."

You raised an eyebrow, looping your arms around his neck.

"Astarion ... that's not my surprise for you."

"No? Are you serious?"

"As serious as I can get."

He let out a sharp breath of consternation, his mouth pulling into a decidedly sour line. He was wrong, yet again. It didn't stop him from licking the trace of sweetened blood from the corner of his lips, though.

The third time, he'd been slightly more wary, but sure of himself all the same. It all started when he'd been wounded during battle; an anomaly.

Somewhere in the rush and confusion, amidst the casting of an unwanted daylight spell, his position in the shadows had been revealed and the enemy had suddenly focused their attention on the swift, vampiric damage-dealer who'd been firing devastating bolts of poison and flame from his hiding place.

Karlach had carried him back to camp in a poor state and you'd been half out of your mind with worry, dosing him with powerful healing potions at the battle site and monitoring his wounds afterwards.

Eventually, Astarion had fallen into a fitful doze within the safety of his tent. You remained at his side for a while, watching his brows furrow at intervals, spectres pursuing him across a haunted dreamscape.

Normally, Astarion came to your tent to feed, so as not to disturb your sleep, or to ensure that you had a comfortable space to rest afterwards. You'd seldom had occasion to enter his little sanctuary.

Looking around, you felt a quiet surge of tenderness, taking in the various mismatched items of worn luxury, the cracked mirror, the bloodstained vessels, the ratty, threadbare blanket draped over his form.

Rising slowly, you made your way back to your own tent. Rooting among the items put away in your trunk, you drew out a warmer quilted throw, one you'd stitched together in preparation for cooler weather.

Right now, Astarion needed it more than you did. You had the materials to fashion another for yourself.

Returning, you took your time easing the old blanket from his slumbering form, pausing as his ears twitched and he rolled over. You pulled the quilt softly over him, tucking it in just beneath his chin. He sighed and curled up beneath it, the slight tremors that wracked his body somewhat easing.

You remained, watching his tousled mop of curls with a fond smile, before the weight of your own exhaustion forced you back to your bedroll for the night.

The next morning, he appeared at breakfast, looking much better and rather smug. Peering over his shoulder, you noted that the new quilt had been folded neatly, displayed proudly on top of his bedroll.

A sudden thought struck you.

Oh no. Did he -

"Darling, there you are."

He sauntered over and seated himself on the log beside you, a certain stiffness to his normally fluid gait the only indicator of yesterday's injuries.

"I slept exceptionally well beneath the wonderful new blanket that somehow found its way into my tent. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

You took a sip of your tea, eyeing him carefully over the rim of your cup.

"Yes, the blanket is now yours. And it's from me."

"Ha! I knew it. Had your scent all over it."

He crossed his legs, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Well, I've got to hand it to you. That's a surprise I definitely wouldn't have seen coming."

A few paces away Gale coughed and busied himself with the porridge while Shadowheart shot you a smirk. You set down your cup of tea.

"Ah, about that - "

Astarion leapt to his feet.

"No. It can't be."

"That's not your - "

"Not even the blanket? I'm wrong again?"

"No, not the blanket either. It's ... not your surprise."

He was opening and closing his mouth, at a loss for words, hands flapping outward in pure bewilderment.

"Hells, are you just ... doing nice things for me all the time? Why? What's the surprise? How can it not be any of those things? Not the chocolates? Not the fruit? And not the blanket either?"

Heat coursed up your neck as you gazed at him defensively.

"Well, of course I do nice things for no good reason! I just ... want to do them. Because I care about you!"

Astarion's hands found their way to his hips and he sputtered.

"Well, all right, fine! I ... I love when you do those things, but - "

"Gods, this is almost nauseatingly sweet," came Shadowheart's mutter from across the campfire.

Gale cut in, voice measured.

"The actual surprise will be here tomorrow, if that helps put you out of your state of suspense."

You groaned.

"Gale - "

"This is Astarion we're talking about. He doesn't much like surprises anyway. So, just hold onto that thought. Along with every scrap of patience you possess."

Astarion was frowning across as Gale, arms folded.

"Oh, stuff your condescending tone in the goblin latrine, Gale. I was simply curious. It's my nature. It isn't a crime, you know."

Shadowheart's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline.

You sighed and waved a hand.

"Well, what's done is done. I've got to ... go into town to see to a few matters. I'll be back later."

"Then I'll tag along, darling."

"No, you won't," came the firm rejoinder from Gale. "Just stay put or I'll cast a binding spell on you."

As you left the camp, you were fully aware of Astarion's eyes tracking you. You knew that he wanted to apologise in his own fashion, but that could wait for later. You had a delivery to attend to.

Astarion feigned nonchalance the next morning, but he wasn't fooling anyone. He lounged, of course, taking his time brushing out his hair, sharpening his numerous knives and checking his stock of poisons.

Amusement filtered into your thoughts. He was really trying to be on his best behaviour, considering that the real surprise was arriving today. From the amount of time needed to prepare, he had obviously deduced that your gift to him had taken some effort to procure.

The distant trundle of a wagon's wheels reached your ears and you put down the pack you were arranging. Astarion sprang to his feet, expression alert, while the rest of the camp gathered round.

When the covered wagon arrived, the yellow-clad driver, a boy barely out of his teens, hopped down and offered a smart greeting.

"Greetings, saer. I have here your delivery from merchant Boney, situated at the Circus of the Last Days. Please inspect the item to see that it is all intact."

You could sense Astarion's confusion growing by the minute. Stepping forward, you lifted the flap over the precious cargo before nodding to the driver.

"All seems to be in order."

"Then may I have your mark here, on this paper, to confirm delivery?"

"Of course."

Karlach rubbed her hands together with anticipation and stepped forward, beckoning to Lae'zel.

"Come on. This one's going to need some heavy lifting, know what I mean?"

Together, they brought the large object down, still in its hide covering, and set it in a fairly central area of the camp, in full view of Astarion's tent.

As you all crowded around, he planted himself front and centre, his anticipation now palpable even as he remained silent amongst the chatter of the others. You made your way over to him, gently winding your fingers through his. He turned to you and you gave a playful grimace.

"I suppose it isn't much of a surprise any longer, but it's here, and that's what matters."

Astarion's hand clenched around yours. You knew his tells well enough by now to see that the size of the 'gift' had filled him with a sense of trepidation.

"Darling, you've always had a flair for the ridiculous."

Offering the steady warmth of your knowing smile, you nodded to Gale who conjured the workings of a mage hand to draw away the covering.

It was a statue of Astarion, posed in all his rakish glory, hands slightly raised, a dashing smile on his face, the elegance of Facemaker's finest clothing carved in remarkable likeness over his form. His twin blades jutted over each shoulder, the scabbards etched out in beautiful tracery. Everything down to the delicate points of his ears had been lovingly fashioned under your careful direction.

There was a momentary silence over the camp, before Karlach whistled, Wyll whooped and Halsin's large hand came down hard on Astarion's back.

"Would you look at that! A most amazing likeness. As nature intended."

"Three cheers for Fangs!"

"Well, he certainly has more presence when he's carved in stone."

"For once, I agree. A lot less ... runty."

"Boo would like to sit on the immense shoulders of puny Astarion! The best perch in the camp!"

Through all this, Astarion had remained silent. He stood stock still, eyes drinking in the sight of his own countenance, rendered through your own vision of him, through dozens of hours when you'd sat beside the slowly forming sculpture, correcting, guiding, providing your own input in the form of hastily drawn sketches of all the parts of him you knew so well.

You watched him, his earlier nerves now transferring to you.

Had you done well enough? Was the likeness anywhere near enough to capture everything he was?

Some powerful emotion, barely held in check was burning its way through, coiling under his skin, palpable in the now convulsive clench of his hand around yours. He turned to you again, and his eyes glistened, yet held their unshed burden in check.

The sounds of the camp, and your companions, receded somewhat as he spoke, ever so softly.

"I asked you, once, what you saw when you looked at me. You told me ... back then, but I didn't really understand. How could I? I haven't seen this face in over a hundred years."

He paused and tugged you closer, burying his face in the side of your neck. You knew what the words cost him, the underlying truth to their spoken power, as bright as flame conjured on an icy mountaintop.

"I ... do see it now. Everything you wanted to show me. I see it."

You rested your head on top of his, the tangle of curls brushing your cheek softly.

It wasn't a surprise then, not in nature, but in execution, oh yes.

From that day on, Astarion the Sensuous stood proud in your camp, surrounded by light, merriment, comfort through days of darkness, the ebb and flow of friendly banter, the scamper of Scratch around his plinth and the occasional hat or cape draped around him for the sake of jest.

Through his stony eyes, the life of his counterpart unfolded, delicate as a night orchid, embroidered with all the golden threads of new possibility.

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