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petit-etoile · 5 months

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Astarion goes to the cat shelter to get a sibling for His Majesty, Tav is the worker who helps him out and it’s history from there

cat & mouse ( back & forth )

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 2,505 content warnings: set in baldur's gate but i mention designer brands, other than that, nothing other tags: alternate universe - modern setting, pre-relationship, developing relationship, getting together, fluff, astarion is rich, gender neutral tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s be added to the taglist here

summary: ‘But you see, I travel for business and His Majesty holds grudges,’ Astarion explains. ‘If I leave him with a sitter, he’s a true terror. If I leave him alone, he eats my Brunello Cucinelli cashmere!’

‘Hello! Is there anything I can help you with?’

The man is currently kneeling down, humming to himself, while he looks between a bundle of elderly cats and his phone. You’re surprised. Normally people who come to the shelter are looking for kittens as presents, but the sight of him giving attention to anything but kittens makes you feel better about his intentions. He looks at you, startled by the sound of your voice. His phone clammers to the ground.

‘Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!’ you say frantically. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you!’

‘ — my gods, no, I mean it’s quite alright, heavens above,’ he breathes out. He drapes a hand over his heart dramatically. ‘Perhaps you should wear a bell around your ankle. You’re…horrifically quiet.’

He huffs out a sigh of relief before picking his phone back up. He stands up, knees creaking as he does so, and shows you his screen. Thankfully, it’s free of cracks.

‘I’m looking for a companion for His Majesty,’ the man explains.

The picture he shows you is an offensively hairless cat who seems to be somewhat older as well, though it’s hard to tell due to all his natural wrinkles. You’re not sure how it’s possible, but the cat seems to be judging you through the phone. You once heard Mr. Withers say that all pets take after their pet owners' looks, and when you glance at the man before you, you can kind of see it. He’s not hairless by any means but he certainly looks at you with an air of accidental arrogance, and that makes you nervous.

‘What a cute cat!’ you say instead.

‘His Majesty is rather adorable,’ the man agrees. ‘Oh gods, I just realized he isn’t even wearing a sweater in this photo… Please look away, he is indecently exposed!’

You laugh, covering your mouth and closing your eyes as instructed. You can hear him frantically scroll through his camera roll for a picture of His Majesty that would have all his hairlessness expertly covered.

The next photograph you’re allowed to see of His Majesty shows the sphynx cat in an adorable sweater which matches the sweater his owner is wearing. Seeing the two side by side confirms your earlier suspicions. They seem to belong together. Smug, but not as if it isn’t warranted, and proud, like their happiness is something they’ve earned. You hum, nodding.

‘But you see, I travel for business and His Majesty holds grudges,’ the man explains. ‘If I leave him with a sitter, he’s a true terror. If I leave him alone, he eats my Brunello Cucinelli cashmere!’

‘He definitely sounds like he needs a friend!’ you agree.

‘But he hates kids,’ the man stresses, sniffing delicately. ‘So I doubt kittens would fare any better. He bit my sister’s niece once.’

‘I see, I see,’ you say, trying not to laugh. ‘We have a few cats here that I think could be a good companion. Right here is Kira and she’s quite the refined lady. I think she likes to gossip.’

‘Oh my,’ the man says. ‘She would fit right in.’

‘But there’s also Myshka. He’s a bit more playful, but he has gorgeous eyes,’ you say.

You kneel down where the man was sitting before, gesturing between the two cats you pointed out. Kira frowns at you disapprovingly, and Myshka continues to chirp happily. The man gasps at the adorableness and wiggles his fingers in front of the kennels. Myshka shouts like you’ve never heard him shout and bounces, shoving his nose against the doors and sniffing aggressively. He’s perhaps the least ‘civilized’ cat you have at the entire shelter, but from the way the man’s eyes light up, you wouldn’t even know it. Part of you is thankful. Myshka deserved a good home.

‘Ugh, he’s perfect,’ the man says.

‘He isn’t as old as some of the other cats, but most people overlook him because he isn’t a kitten,’ you explain. You wiggle your fingers too and Myshka forgets about the man and starts yelling at you instead. ‘He’s a little odd but I’d take him home in a heartbeat if I could.’

‘Oh? You want him too?’

‘Yeah, but my home is a bit busy,’ you say with a shrug. ‘I have a cute dog named Scratch, who is a rescue, and I’m currently helping rehabilitate a baby owlbear.’

‘A baby owlbear!’

‘Yeah! Do you want to see some photos too?’

The man grins crookedly. He’s so handsome it makes your heart stutter. You look away from him and focus on fishing your phone out of your back pocket. You find your photo album titled ♡ family ♡. You show him Scratch first. He coos over the dog, pointing out how pretty his coat is. You purple shampoo it every once in a while so that it stays sparkling and shiny and white. Compared to what Scratch looked like before, he’s so happy now.

It only goes up from there when you show the man the picture of the baby owlbear. He’s so chubby it’s cute with big, hopeful eyes. You tell the man about how Jaheira had found him one night in the woods and how you were the first person she thought of to help rehabilitate him. That seems to earn you some recognition. He looks at you like he’s really taking in the look of you.

‘You may as well be an angel in disguise,’ he says approvingly. ‘Although… Jaheira… I think I know her.’

‘You might! She owns the rescue.’

‘I think I took on a case for her once,’ the man muses, rubbing at his chin. ‘Yes, that sounds more like it. If you know Jaheira, then you must be a phenomenal person.’

You laugh nervously. Now he’s just flattering you, you’re sure of it. Either way, you try to change the subject as quickly as possible before your nerves get the better of you.

‘Mm, yes, I think I’ll take this one,’ he says, referring to Myshka. ‘But no need to put him in one of those awful boxes. I have a Prada carrier in my car. If you’ll only give me a moment.’

Prada… Brunello Cucinelli… You almost wish you were Myshka instead!

Still, now that you watch him go in and out, everything starts to add up. He’s an expensive magistrate with expensive cat carriers and expensive cats… You stare agape as Astarion Ancunin walks back in with his bright red Prada bag and offers it to you. He smiles once you realize who he is. The awe must show on your face. Not that it matters, he’s here to get a cat and you happen to have been one of the only ones working today, but you still feel ridiculously honored. Without saying anything, you coax Myshka into the bag and show Astarion the way to the counter so that he can pay.

“We take cash…or credit…’ you say faintly. ‘Or checks…’

‘Cash will have to do,’ Astarion says with a shrug. ‘Anything for little Myshka. What a little baby!’

You don’t even know what to say half the time, busy trying to get the paperwork together and not stare. It seems like Astarion has hit all your weaknesses in one go. Attractive, loves animals, adopts and doesn’t shop, and goes out of his way to wear ugly matching sweaters with his cat. You ring him up as slowly as you can out of your own desire to stare at him more, and then once everything is signed and paid for, you reluctantly slide Myshka’s carrier forward. You don’t mean to pout. You can’t really help it.

‘You’ll tell Jaheira I stopped by, won’t you?’ Astarion asks casually. He’s running his fingers over the zipper of his carrier instead of picking his new cat up. ‘We used to get into trouble together back in the day.’

‘You know,’ you say conspiratorially, ‘we’re actually having a bonfire out at my place this weekend. It’s a little bit out of the city, but Jaheira will be there. She’s bringing kidney pie.’ You leave out the part where it’s supposed to be an employee’s only bonfire.

‘It does sound phenomenal,’ Astarion hums. ‘Give me the address. I’d love to drop by. You can leave your phone number too if you’d like.’

It goes without saying that for the next three days, you do nothing besides prepare for the bonfire, go to work, and text Astarion. He sends you updates about his new family — Myshka is freshly spoiled with a Louis Vuitton collar, His Majesty wears a new Gucci sweater that matches Astarion’s, and Astarion himself takes ridiculous selfies at bad angles while looking ridiculously attractive. It’s almost unfair.

Sometimes you send him pictures of Scratch chewing on his favorite toy, but mostly, Astarion seems to enjoy videos of the baby owlbear sitting in the silliest ways possible. You managed to get him to wear a hat one day and Astarion was so delighted by it he allegedly set it as his homescreen.

You’re the only one not surprised when Astarion shows up to your humble farm in his Mercedes-Benz. You might have forgotten to tell Jaheira about it. Everyone crowds around you instead of the bonfire trying to get a peek at the hot-shot magistrate, but if the attention was overwhelming, Astarion says nothing. He strolls in carrying a pot of something that Gale immediately begins fussing over. Now with empty hands, Astarion throws his arms around Jaheira and kisses her cheeks over and over. It’s lovely.

Astarion begins fussing over Scratch as though he were an old friend after that. Scratch has brought over his ball to play, and even though it’s covered in spit and roughly three years old, Astarion delights in playing fetch. You sneakily grab a plate of kidney pie to feed Scratch and sit on the ground so you can watch them play games. At one point, Scratch refuses to bring Astarion the ball and makes the elf chase him around the yard. When he’s done, Astarion sits next to you laughing and gasping for air.

He helps you feed Scratch the meaty bits from the pie, cooing all the while. ‘What a delightful beast!’ he says.

‘He really gave you a run for your money for a moment, didn’t he?’ you tease.

‘Well, he has two more legs than I do,’ Astarion snorts, sniffing delicately. ‘It’s only fair he wins.’

It makes you laugh more than it should, and you wipe the leftover pie crust and juices on your jeans before standing up. You’re surprised when Astarion does the same on his jeans, but he laughs at your expression and follows suit.

‘Do you — Do you want to see him?’ you ask.

‘See who — ’ Astarion’s eyes widen immediately. ‘The owlbear! The baby! Oh please, you must let me see him, darling. What a delight!’

‘I must warn you,’ you tell him, leaning forward like it’s a secret. ‘He may be asleep. And he’s extremely cuddly. Beware the claws.’

‘Beware the claws, yes, yes,’ Astarion repeats, waving his hand impatiently. ‘Let me see the little man!’

You lead Astarion away from the bonfire and everyone else to a quieter, fenced off part of your property. You had it passed down to you from your grandfather who wasn’t deceased as much as he was that much of a recluse who decided Baldur’s Gate was becoming too large. Inside, tucked into a cute little bed, was the baby owlbear who had picked up the habit of snoring from Scratch.

Everyone else liked the baby owlbear as well, but you weren’t expecting Astarion to gush at the sight of him. You lead him into the enclosure and very carefully sat next to the owlbear. As if trained to do so, he wakes up and blinks his large orange orbs at Astarion inquisitively.

‘Do you want to hold him?’ you ask.

Astarion almost quivers at the idea.

‘You have to be really careful!’ you tell him, probably for the hundredth time. ‘He’s just a baby so he can’t control his strength yet. He has big boy paws. They hurt if he smacks you in the face by accident.’

Astarion is the picture of serenity. He sits, cross legged, and waits for you to slowly coax the baby owlbear into his lap. He’s clearly delighted by the whole thing, visibly trembling, and watching the owlbear with the kind of reverence you only see at a temple. Astarion sits very patiently and gently pets the top of the owlbear’s head, and it only takes a minute or two for the baby to fall back asleep. Every snore is a hoot, and his feathers fluff out occasionally as he continues to make himself comfortable in Astarion’s lap.

‘This might be the best thing ever,’ Astarion tells you earnestly.

You aren’t quite sure what possesses you in the moment, but you straighten up a little bit and glance at him as coyly as you can manage. You put your hands in your lap and twirl your thumbs around one another nervously.

You say, ‘It really does seem like he likes you. Maybe — Maybe you could come by more often. If you want to.’

Astarion glances at you knowingly. ‘Oh, perhaps every once in a while,’ he says ‘Maybe I could teach him how to play fetch.’

‘Like Scratch taught you how to?’

‘I knew how to play!’ Astarion complains. ‘He wouldn’t give the ball back! And he’s so fast, it’s ridiculous. His Majesty would never treat me this way.’

‘I’d like to meet His Majesty too,’ you say casually.

Astarion’s eyes light up. Had they always been that shade of red? The light of the evening seems to make them glow… You try not to think about it too much, but you haven’t been very good at focusing lately. Astarion seems equally as interested in your eyes. He chases after them, intent on looking you in the face as you chat.

‘You’ll have to come over,’ he says encouragingly. ‘I cook a mean Lheshayl steak. It pairs nicely with a Silverymoon white wine.’

‘I don’t ever think I’ve had a Lheshayl anything,’ you say, and Astarion laughs. It isn’t a mean laugh. ‘Do I bring a dish to something like that?’

‘Oh no, darling, you don’t bring anything but your gorgeous self,’ Astarion says, nudging you with his elbow. ‘I wasn’t inviting you to get together with friends, you know. If I wanted that, I’d have it catered. I was asking you on a date — ’

‘A date?’ you repeated stupidly.

Astarion laughs again. It’s a whimsical, unpracticed sound that doesn’t go with his usual countenance but it sounds nice. It makes you want to make him laugh more. You’re not quite sure what you’ve done to warrant his attention, but the affection is nice… You nudge him back, fighting the smile, fighting the butterflies dancing dangerously in the pit of your stomach.

‘Okay,’ you say softly. ‘It’s a date.’

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#anonymous #my fic #ASTARION LOVES ANIMALS #source: me #anyway the socks i mentioned are like $600 USD #i just feel like Astarion Would

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