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roguishcat · 11 months ago

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Augustarion Day 3 – Apron (MNDI) 18+

Warnings: Astarion takes care of you. And I mean sexually. Inappropriate use of Mage Hand, Oral Sex (Male receiving), PiV.

Pairing: female reader (You) x Astarion

A/N: I tried to proofread.

Day 1 - 🍓, Day 2 - 🌊, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

You were busy preparing dinner when you could have sworn you felt a hand brush your side, then gently cup your ass and give it a squeeze. Whirling around, you saw that there was nobody there. In fact, everyone seemed to be doing something. Shadowheart and Wyll were speaking in low voices, Karlach was playing fetch with delighted Scratch, Gale was resting, and Astarion was reading a book in front of his tent. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.

You went back to preparing the meal. Gale, for once, asked to be relieved of cooking duty, having taken several particularly nasty blows during the surprise attack. So he passed on the ladle to the only person in the group that could apparently be trusted with their meal. You did not know what made him believe that you were any better in the kitchen than, say, Shadowheart or Wyll. But, having taken a look at his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes, decided not to argue. You weren’t great at cooking, but you could manage a simple stew. Especially as Gale took care to write out step-by-step instructions for you to follow.

Then you felt it again. Phantom fingers brushed the back of your knee, making you yelp in surprise and almost drop what you were holding. This time you were certain that it wasn’t just your imagination playing tricks. Something or someone touched you and you were determined to find out who it was.

Eyes narrowing, you took another look at your companions. Astarion, whose idea of fun was pestering you when you were busy with something else, was your main suspect. Especially seeing as how he, for all intents and purposes, seemed to be really, really into his book. The book that you were sure you saw him read before.

With a huff, you turned back to the task at hand. If Astarion wanted something from you, he would probably tell you soon enough.

Minutes later, you heard him snap the tome closed as your vampire finally decided to come to you. You were chopping up vegetables for stew when Astarion approached you.

“Hello my sweet. Busy?” he all but purred, arms encircling your waist as he laid his chin on your shoulder.

“Not too busy to talk to you. How can I help?”

“Oh, I don’t need anything in particular. It’s just you know how much I enjoy seeing you handling a blade. And I am in a mood for a lovely chat with your lovely self.”

“Sounds… nice?”

“I can be very nice. In fact, I was nice enough to notice how tense you have been for the past several days. Travelling rough taking a toll on you, hm?”

“I suppose,” you frowned, not sure where exactly Astarion was going with this line of questioning. You felt as if he was toying with you, which he often was, leading you to say whatever it was that he wanted to hear, which you were probably about to do.

“You know how much I hate seeing you in such a state. And that got me thinking, how about I offer you a little stress relief? Just to make sure that you are in tiptop shape for all the adventuring that lies ahead, of course,” he ran his hand down your side, lifting your shirt a little to press his palm against your skin.

“Astarion,” you sighed with a smile, “if you want to get me alone and out of my pants, you have to wait till later. I can’t just let dinner burn because you are bored and wanting a stress relief of your own.”

“Tsk, you are no fun.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Luckily for you, my dear, you are in a relationship with the most creative lover!” he boasted, exposing his fangs in a cheeky smile. “You don’t even have to move, I will take care of everything. In fact,” he breathed down your neck, making a shiver pass through you, “I will not even touch you, in a way.”

You frowned, wondering what he was up to.

Seeing your confusion, he whispered his plan into your ear. Your face flushed from the mere suggestion.

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Astarion!”

“My dear, this is happening. The only choice you get in the matter is whether you get to preserve a bit of your modesty.”

He took Gale’s apron from the bag near the makeshift table and shook it out.

“Apron or no apron?”

“Astarion, I really don’t think-”

“I’m not asking you to think, my sweet. You do enough of that every single day. I’m asking you a very simple question. Apron or no apron?”

“Apron,” you whispered shakily as he slipped it on you.

“Good choice,” he all but growled, pulling on the ties a little harsher than needed and making a tight knot. “And try to be discreet about it, dear. Wouldn’t want to alert the rest to what is going on right in front of their noses.”

The flush spread from your face to your neck.

“You are a terrible influence.”

“And you are thrilled by the thought, admit it. But darling,” he was suddenly serious, “this is all a bit of fun. If at any point it stops being fun, I will stop.”

You knew that this was always the case, Astarion would never force you, but were grateful that he made sure to point it out anyway.

“I know. I trust you,” you turned your head a little and pecked his cheek.

“And what are you two lovebirds talking about, hm?” Shadowheart said with a frown, crossing her arms across her chest. In spite of addressing both of them it was Astarion who she was looking at with distrust and annoyance.

“Nothing that would interest you,” Astarion moved and lifted both his hands, palms up, a perfect picture of innocence. “But if you are so concerned, I’m walking away now.”

“You better, Fangs!” Karlach walked past, on her way to fetch water. “Keep your hands where we can see them. Wouldn’t want to waste all that food just because you have nothing to occupy yourself with.”

“Tsk, you think so lowly of me. And just when I was about to renounce my old ways and become the poster boy for gentleman-like behaviour! There,” he sat gracefully on the stool next to Shadowheart’s tent, crossing his arms and legs petulantly, “happy now?”

You listened to the two bicker with fondness and went back to the task in hand. Absentmindedly, you wondered if Astarion was so distracted by sparring verbally with Shadowheart, a common occurrence, that he forgot all about you. The thought didn’t bother you, in fact you were a little relieved. What were you even thinking agreeing to something so lewd with everyone being right there? How unlike you, how scandalous!

But then you felt it again, this time on your inner thigh. Invisible hands insistently ascending until they reached the apex between your thighs, lightly brushing against the fabric there. Your eyes widened and you withdrew from the table with a jolt, unsure how you felt about the sensation. Your eyes snapped in the direction that Astarion took, but he seemed to have moved on from Shadowheart and was now arguing with Lae’zel.

Apparently, that did not require as much thought as one would think, because you felt the Mage Hand move towards you again. Thankfully, it was invisible. Something that he learned to do and was very pleased by the opportunities that newfound knowledge would offer.

Suddenly, you realised where you remembered the book Astarion was reading earlier from. It was the spell book that held the secret to advanced Mage Hand! The one that he told Gale that you accidentally sold to the vendor! Gale lectured you about the importance of keeping the travel trunk in perfect order for a tenday after that!

Just as you were about to march over to the elf and give him a piece of your mind, you felt the Mage Hand slip into your underwear. Looking down, you panicked. Perhaps the spell made it invisible, but the movement beneath the clothes would make what is happening rather obvious. Thankfully, the makeshift table near the cooking pot was high enough to partially hide you. The apron was proving helpful too.

You felt the tadpole in your mind stir as Astarion’s voice appeared in your mind.

I understand that this may be a little distracting, my sweet, but appearances must be kept up. Chop, chop!

You grit your teeth and lifted your knife. Right. Vegetables, meat and- Ooh, yes!

You felt a finger inside you and a thumb circling the swollen nub slowly.

Do try to stay still, darling. Conjuring up a second Mage Hand to keep you in place might make everyone in the vicinity aware of what is happening.

Bastard. That beautiful, devious, impossible bastard! As if staying still came easily to you at such times and he knew that far too well. Astarion so enjoyed in making you squirm.

My, my, you think me beautiful, my dear? Is this the thought dominating your days and surfacing during your dreams?

But of course this would be his only takeaway from listening in on your thoughts! You shoved him out of your mind and his mocking, sultry voice disappeared, but not before you heard an arrogant chuckle.

Being banished clearly did not sit well with Astarion as the Mage Hand doubled its efforts, making you put down the knife lest you dropped it on your foot and grip the table tightly with shaking hands. You bit your lip to stifle a moan and forced yourself not to rock against the fingers pumping in and out of you with increasing speed. This was torture. Sweet, overwhelming torture.

You buried your face in your hands as another finger joined the first two. It was too much and you were sure that someone was about to catch on and-

“Is everything alright?” you heard Wyll’s voice.

It might as well have been a bucket of cold water. You immediately straightened and looked at him with wide, panicking eyes. Did he know? He couldn’t have known! How could he possibly-

“Are you feeling quite well? You look like you are running a fever,” he was about to move around the table and towards you.

You had about ten seconds to make a decision. Because there was no way that you would live this one down. So you grabbed the ladle, shoved it into Wyll’s hands, and sprinted towards your tent, grabbing Astarion by the collar on the way. The vampire had the gall to give Wyll a wink and shout, “Do start eating without us!”

You half-pushed, half-threw Astarion into your tent and closed the flap, making sure the damn thing was closed properly. Then, you gave yourself a minute to calm your erratic heartbeat.

When you turned, you were greeted with the sight of Astarion lounging on the bedroll. He was very naked, giving you a lazy, knowing smile.

“Where did you clothes go? I took my eyes off you for no more than a minute!”

“Why so displeased, love? Did you need me dressed for what is about to happen next?”

The nerve of that man! Looking at you like a cat that got the cream! As if he knew that you would happily jump atop of that. He was right, of course, but that was beside the point.

“Why Astarion, who knew that you would get so excited over this? And I didn’t even have to undress or touch you for you to get this,” you motioned to his cock standing at attention, “worked up.”

That wiped the arrogant smile off his face. Hah! Take that you handsome bastard!

Closing the distance between you, you crouched in front of Astarion, taking him into your hand and moving it torturously slow up and down the shaft, eliciting a groan as he thrust into your hand.

“Enjoying yourself?” he laughed in between gasps.

“Yes, very much, thank you.”

Keeping the rhythm, you started unbuttoning your shirt with your free hand. It would have probably looked sexy if the damn apron wasn’t still on you. Just as you wanted to untie it, Astarion stopped you.

“No. Keep it on,” he moved to help you out of your clothes. “I thought it looked rather fetching on you earlier.”

You nodded slowly, eyes fixated on his hard erection. You explored him. The very tip of his cock was traced with gentle fingers, then down the sides until your fingers went even lower, tracing around his balls before finally cupping them, kneading them gently, reverently.

Astarion was shuddering, eyes squeezed shut, allowing you to take your time. Feeling emboldened by his reactions, you spread his legs wider before lowering yourself, head between his legs. You kissed the tip of him before swirling her tongue around like you were savouring a treat. Slowly, inch by inch, you swallowed more and more before you stopped, unable to go any further. You sucked gently at first, before picking up speed, wrapping fingers around the base, stroking where mouth couldn’t reach. Your other hand rolled his balls in your palm.

“Oh darling, you must stop,” he groaned.

Freezing, you slowly pulled away and looked up at him with eyes heavy with passion. Did he want to stop? Was this too much?

He reached down and grabbed your shoulders, falling onto his back and dragging you on top. Sprawled on top of him, you could see Astarion was physically trying to hold himself back. He kissed you hard, leaving you breathless and panting.

Astarion rolled you over, his hips fitting between your legs. You felt the tip of his arousal pressing against your entrance.

“Eyes on me, my love.”

You could not resist it when he spoke to you in that breathy way.

“Always.”

You looked into his eyes when he thrust into you for the first time, making you moan.

You murmured the Silence spell between pants, unsure of whether you would be able to keep concentrating on it for long.

“Do you really think you will manage to concentrate on the spell, my sweet?” he mocked you playfully between shallow, teasing thrusts.

“You seemed to have managed well enough,” you bit back, arching off the bedroll to get more of him in, “or is arguing with Lae’zel and Shadowheart becoming second nature?”

“Oh, please, as if I could get a word in edgewise. Once those two get going any off-hand comment will do. You, on the other hand,” he finally thrust into you in earnest, his breath shuddering out of him in relief as he was finally nestled in you the way he wanted all afternoon, “may find yourself distracted so thoroughly that- oh fuck! You are so tight,” he growled, words failing him. Astarion grit his teeth as he moved his hips, lost in the sensation, ashamed of himself for wanting to come already.

Truth be told, running his mouth would only go that far in trying to make sure that you came first. But then he looked at you, eyes shut, cheeks flushed and felt a wave of affection. Because you were his and he was yours, and you were enjoying each other. No shame, no judgement. So he let go and decided to be in the moment with you.

“You are doing so well, my sweet,” he murmured, kissing your eyes, your cheeks, your neck. “So wet, so good. I wanted this… My love.”

As Astarion’s pace sped up, your legs came over his hips to wrap around him, unbelievable pressure building deep inside. And then you lost yourself in him, in his pants, the movement of his hips, the way his fingers dug into your back as his grip on you tightened. You whimpered for him to bite you. And as he did, you held onto him, wanting to feel more and then more still. You gasped at a deep thrust, tightening your walls around him when he hit a spot that made you cry out in pleasure as you came.

Astarion gasped when you closed around him. Faster, harder; he couldn’t help himself. He was rough and he knew it, but the way you felt didn’t leave much in the way of his control. His own release came suddenly and, thrusting erratically, he rode the wave of pleasure until he was completely spent.

He couldn’t move. And to be honest he didn’t want to move. He was still inside you snug heat, listening to the wild beat of your heart. Giving himself another moment, Astarion kissed your shoulder and reluctantly pulled out. He didn’t move much farther than that; his arm was under your shoulders in an embrace, and his head rested on your chest. He was content to listen as your breathing evened out and heart slowed down. When your tremulous fingers stroked a curl out his face, Astarion had a frightening thought that he was absolutely sure that you ruined him so completely with your love and affection that he would be unable to survive without your presence in his life. Of course, he would probably never admit it. Still, as you shared a slow, unhurried kiss, perhaps those bards had a point when they sang about love and such.

Dinner was an awkward affair. You looked at your bowl and your bowl only, your cheeks aflame as you physically felt the judging glares shot in your direction. Because you did exactly as they suspected. Abandoned the cooking pot to fuck the vampire. Surprisingly, it was Gale who came to your defence.

“Now friends, you shouldn’t judge these two too harshly. I’ve read many a book that mentioned the inherent eroticism of cooking. No wonder they got caught up in the moment!”

Shadowheart did not look convinced or impressed by that explanation, but mercifully chose not to say anything. Perhaps because against all odds the food turned out not as terrible as expected. Of course, that had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that Wyll added salt and spices, and made sure your dinner did not burn.

“But perhaps food preparation should be left to me, after all,” Gale went on. “Speaking of, has anyone seen my apron?”

You were mid chew and almost chocked on your food.

“I spilled something on it, so I had to wash it,” you said, not reacting when you heard Astarion chuckle into his wine. “But you will get it back as soon as it dries,” you quickly assured Gale, feeling terrible for having used it at all.

“Splendid! I am rather fond of that apron,” he nodded, going back to his meal.

But Astarion too found himself unwilling to part with it. Which is why he swiped the apron quickly and discreetly, squirreling it away until next time. Because there would certainly be a next time.

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roguishcat · 11 months ago

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Augustarion Day 7 – Underwear

Day 1 -🍓, Day 2 - 🌊, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

Pairing: female reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: fluff with a tiny bit of angst

Excerpt: “Astarion, my love,” you began in a deceptively light tone as he approached your bed, “Quite coincidentally, I was just going through the lovely collection of underwear which you have gifted me since we got to the city. And seeing as you embroidered every single thing with such meticulous care, I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful work that you did. Every piece of lingerie with my name, embroidered in elvish. How sweet.”

Astarion felt a chill run down his spine, the treacly sweetness of your voice making him want to run. You couldn’t have possibly found out, right?

Word count: 1.9k

A/N This was supposed to be smut, but ended up being feels.

Astarion was in an excellent mood. Everything was going according to plan as you bagged a win after win, defying all odds.

You managed to obtain the second Netherstone, proving yourself to be a strong leader and brilliant strategist, confidently leading them into battle against the cultists. You defeated Orin and rescued Lae’zel, although Astarion still couldn’t understand why the githyanki didn’t just kill the shapeshifter herself.

Honestly. For such a formidable warrior she was quite good at letting herself be the damsel in distress. Not that he would ever say that to her face. He quite liked his head to remain on his shoulders and was sure that a thoughtless comment like that would be all the reason she needed to reach for her sword.

Of course, his fantastic mood was not the result of rescuing the githyanki. Lae’zel was no fun, as she barely tolerated his antics even on a good day. No, what had Astarion excited was the delicious promise in your eyes when you brushed past him earlier.

The others decided to celebrate their victory with a drink or ten, but you pulled him aside and whispered that you were waiting for him upstairs, giving his biceps a squeeze before sauntering off. Seeing as it would be just the two of you not getting sloshed, Astarion had a strong inkling that he knew exactly how his evening would go. And he had a little something that he picked up at Facemaker’s Boutique that he couldn’t wait for you to try on!

When Astarion entered the shared room at Elfsong, he could see that you were already there and scantily clothed. So far, an excellent start! He smirked and closed the door behind him.

“Darling, you look ravishing. But why don’t you put this lovely set on instead, hm? The pearly beads on the front gave me all sorts of exquisite, wicked ideas," he dropped his voice and all but purred as his eyes travelled up the length of your legs.

“Astarion, my love,” you began in a deceptively light tone as he approached your bed, “Quite coincidentally, I was just going through the lovely collection of underwear which you have gifted me since we got to the city. And seeing as you embroidered every single thing with such meticulous care, I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful work that you did. Every piece of lingerie with my name, embroidered in elvish. How sweet.”

Astarion felt a chill run down his spine, the treacly sweetness of your voice making him want to run. You couldn’t have possibly found out, right?

“Except, Shadowheart was kind enough to translate for me. Most considerate of her, isn’t it? Making sure that I know exactly what is stitched across my butt.”

Astarion laughed nervously and backed away, feeling that there is very little he could say in his defense. Perhaps if he got away from you for a bit and gave you time to calm down, you would both laugh about it in a day or two. One could hope. Without breaking eye contact, he felt for the doorhandle, but it wouldn’t budge.

Shit. Arcane lock on the door. Apparently, he was in very hot water and this conversation was happening.

“Let’s have a look at what do we have here, hm?” you spoke with a smile, humming as you selected a delicate, pretty blue pair.

“Do sit,” you said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Astarion swallowed nervously and reluctantly did as he was told, sitting on the opposite side of the bed with a pout. He knew this whole relationship idea was bad news from the very beginning.

“Cheeky pup,” you read without looking at him.

“You have to admit, darling, it’s not that bad-”

“If you can read this, I’m going to kill you,” you went on, picking a silk pair next.

“Well, I suppose that it is open to interpretation.”

“If found, return to Astarion,” you snapped your head in his direction.

“Well,” he gave a nervous laugh, “you do have a tendency to get into scrapes. And this way you-”

“The one that got lucky,” you lifted your eyebrows.

Ah, yes. He didn’t have anything to say in his defense here.

“Sucked dry.”

Astarion did some mental gymnastics as he tried to come up for some justifiable excuse to his actions.

“It’s not going to spank itself.”

Your honor, he had nothing.

“Best meal,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, not sure which one of these you found the most ridiculous.

“And, of course, there is still the pair that I’m wearing now. Which, if I recall correctly, you said was your favourite,” you crossed your arms and gave him a hard look. Astarion tried to seem visibly chastened, like a man ready to repent. You didn’t fall for it. You saw the way his lips twitched as he tried to fight back a smile.

“Do you know how stupid I felt when Shadowheart asked me why I just took what you said at face value? I wouldn't mind it if it was us having an in-joke, although some of these are just terrible, but why did you lie? Was it to laugh at my expense?” You threw the scrap of fabric at his chest, Astarion catching it with a quick, smooth movement.

“No, nothing like that!” he assured you passionately, hating that he made you feel this way. “It’s more of a- I don’t know,” Astarion groaned and ran his hand through his curls, not really sure how to explain what he was thinking at the time. Perhaps he wasn’t really thinking at all.

“I suppose I’m still getting used to- to whatever this is,” he admitted with some reluctance, looking down at his lap. “To having someone to share my thoughts with. To not being punished for stepping out of line. This whole being myself thing… It’s new.”

Your eyes locked with his as he looked up at you. Astarion could be a very believable liar, but he did have his tells. Such as playing with his fingers when he got nervous, worried or a little too vulnerable.

In spite of still being annoyed, you hated seeing him looking this dejected.

“Oh hells, I can’t stay mad at you when you pull out those eyes,” you smacked his arm.

“I know, my sweet,” he took your hand into his, placing a kiss onto the underside of your wrist, his tongue darting out to give it a quick lick.

“But this was so childish!” you tried to keep your voice steady as he kissed his way up your arm. That was cheating. He knew what made you weak at the knees a little too well and was not playing fair.

“I know, punish me as you see fit,” he pulled you closer until you all but fell into him. “I will accept my fate without a word of complaint.”

“Without complaint? Now that would be something to see,” you chortled, pushing him away as you sensed that he was about to pounce.

You were not really angry. Just exasperated and annoyed at having to constantly figure him out. But now that Astarion gave you an explanation, however limited and disjointed, you were not really sure what to do. Perhaps you could have a little fun, though.

You plucked ‘the lucky one’ pair off the bed and waved it in front of his face with a grin.

“Put these on?”

“My love, this is a punishment. Say it with more conviction, more authority,” he growled and gripped your thigh tightly.

“Now,” you commanded, eyes flashing, chin lifted defiantly.

“Of course, my lady. Right away,” he gave you a shallow bow, making quick work of his clothes and then shimmying out of his underwear. You looking away with a blush was met with a self-satisfied chuckle. Astarion still delighted in the fact that even after all the times you were intimate, he still had the ability to fluster you with little effort.

“And you have to spend the whole evening in these,” you reminded him as he put his clothes back on.

“Hardly a punishment for me. It is you who will have to spend the whole evening imagining me in these. Do try to keep your composure in public. Wouldn’t want to find myself thrown against the wall in an alley and ravished as your hunger trumps reason. Now, allow your humble servant to assist you with your wardrobe, my lady.”

He got your clothes out and lay them on the bed, coaxing you out of your bathrobe and taking his time in dressing you, fingers gliding against skin as he delighted in hearing your breath hitch whenever he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

“Dearest,” Astarion lifted your chin with his finger, “I hope you didn’t feel the need to strip for Shadowheart to translate what is written on the underwear you are currently wearing.”

“No, I just assumed it was something silly and juvenile. Why?”

“No, nothing,” he answered a little too quickly.

“Astarion, just tell me.”

He took his time folding up your bathrobe and putting it away, not looking at you. And it could be a trick of candlelight, but you could swear that the tips of his ears were tinged pink.

“Mrs. Ancunín,” he mumbled and cleared his throat.

You did not react immediately. And apparently you not saying anything was worse than you rejecting the idea outright.

“I suppose it’s just wishful thinking on my part,” he gave a small, humorless laugh. “We don’t know if we can survive whatever horrors await us in the near future. And I am not exactly the best choice, far from it. There is very little I can offer and-”

You put your fingers on his lips and pecked his cheek, making his eyes fall shut as he savored the feeling.

“I’d love that. Truly. But I think that you are right. The next few weeks are going to be a lot. And if you still feel like asking at some point in the future, though I will love you no matter what you decide, I'm open to having this conversation. ”

He kissed your hand and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, letting up a little when he realised that breathing was a necessity for you.

“Can’t believe that you sort of proposed to me with a message on my butt,” he heard you mumble and laughed.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into,” he retorted as he heard the door unlock behind him, the spell no longer in place.

“Yes. I guess poor judgement was a prerequisite for entering this relationship?”

“Quite.”

And so the evening went on delightfully, if not quite in the way Astarion expected. You smiled and laughed with your friends. Astarion cheated at cards and won a small fortune, grinning widely as he swept the gold off the table and pocketed it. Occasionally, you saw him hover close by as he tried to listen in on your conversations in a way that would seem inconspicuous if you didn’t constantly catch him staring. From time to time, he frowned and shifted.

“Comfy?” you grinned, catching on to what was happening.

“No, these are terrible! How do you bear it?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Well, they are cute and I like them. And to be fair, they were not made for comfort.”

“Tomorrow we are getting you the ugliest and most comfortable pair of granny panties which I will rip off just as enthusiastically come nighttime as any lacy number.”

You snorted and almost chocked on your wine.

A/N I imagine Astarion reclaiming his autonomy and learning how to be in a relationship is quite a learning curve, seeing that during the 200 years in servitude anything and everything could result in him being punished. The 'If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky' embroidery on his underwear was such a cheeky way to rebel. Brave too, all things considered. I imagine that it would take a while for Astarion to not hide something from others because hiding has been almost instinctive to him for so long.

Sorry for the long author's note. Hope you enjoyed the story!

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#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfic #astarion fanfiction #fanfiction #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion x reader #augustarion #roguish cat

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