#Astarion x Zynatheri

[psalacanthea]

WiP Whenever

So I’m just puttering around with a bit of a thing that posits that maybe Zyn and Astarion met each other 200 years ago instead of at the beginning of BG3.  I’ve been having trouble writing due to Life, and this has been fun, so it’s amused me.  I’m just putting this here because I managed some prose I actually liked.  Thanks to @oxygenforthewicked for the tag I missed due to Life. <3

...

As much as Astarion enjoyed watching Zynatheri at the inn, there was something delightfully bittersweet about lying at the window with a glass of wine and a book, listening to her distant voice.  The old villa next to the tavern they were haunting was still in disarray, but more overgrown gardens and dust than decay now.  The thick, rich scent of jasmine and roses drifted up from the tangled hedges, moonlight spilling in to contend with the warm glow of the candles and fireplace.

Like a siren, her voice wandered in on the sea breeze through the open windows of the tavern.  It was raucous and noisy, but he could still pick her out, singing something boisterous that had people joining in.  He would rather not hear anyone else, but…

Well, it was the price of their lodgings.

The moon was glowing over the waves in the distance, a constant, hypnotic dance of silvery edges rising and falling.  Peaceful.  There was an unreality to it all, like it was a painting washed onto linen, fragile and ephemeral.  A veil of perfection hiding his torturous existence.

Hiding the pain and suffering that was waiting for him.

But…it was worth it.

She’d promised him good memories, and while he couldn’t quite convince his mind to fully sink into the moment, he could at least recognize that she was fulfilling her part of the bargain.  This was– and would be– a good memory.  Something precious to think of in the worst nights of his life.  When Cazador finally found him and–

No, not now.

The velvet darkness deepened languidly, and his book lay abandoned on his lap as he watched the night descend and listened to her voice.  Idly he toyed with one of the candles, letting a finger hover in the flame until it started to hurt, and then withdrawing before his skin could scorch.  The light flickered, sending strange shadows across their bedroom.  But his eyes weren’t on the interior, but the garden and the sea and the gate in the distance.

Waiting for her to come home to him.

What a sweet, unfamiliar sensation.

When the music died down and people wandered through the streets heading home, his little fox finally returned to him.  The creak and slam of the old gate beckoned his focus.  She was humming to herself, the lilting melody drifting up from the garden as she navigated the choked paths.  Meandering.  Setting his book aside, he leaned over the windowsill, reaching for one of the tangled climbing roses that still hadn’t lost its petals.  It was only half-blown, a beautiful ivory hue with a gently blushed heart.

Ignoring the thorns that dug into his skin, he twisted it free of the vine, waiting for her to emerge from the jungle of hedges and statuary.  Idly he spun it in his fingertips, watching the moon and candle-light flicker across the petals.  A pretty little thing.

When she emerged at the empty fountain, he was less than pleased to see she still wore her disguise.  A particularly unattractive one to his eyes, mostly because it was so antithetical to her, his fascinatingly evening-moon lover.  There was something so banal about the red hair and green eyes, the half-elven features that he would have found attractive on anyone else.

But on her it was wrong– she was the beautiful night, not the glaring light of day.

Her eyes drifted up out of habit, and she smiled when their eyes met, gazing up to the second floor where he waited for her.

“Is that for me?” she called up with a smile; hers but not hers.

“Not for you,” he denied, amused when she laughed mockingly, scornful and arch.  “I’m waiting for my beloved to return to me.  Have you seen her?  Drow, about your height but much more attractive?  I’m beginning to think I’ll have to lure her out.”

Zynatheri’s lips quirked up into a smirk, and she picked up the edges of her dress, sitting down on the edge of the dry fountain.  His downward angle meant there was a gloriously bared expanse of cleavage to his view.  He couldn’t begrudge her the partially-unlaced bodice, knowing now how much of a difference that made in what she was paid, but Astarion was coming to realize that maybe…he was beginning to feel a little possessive over her.  But at least this wasn’t her.

It helped, oddly.

They could desire an illusion; he could be that magnanimous.

“How would you lure her?”

The abandoned book on his lap called him, and he picked it up with his free hand, thumbing it open.  Earlier he’d found a small poem that had reminded him of her.  He found it easily enough, leaning his elbow on the windowsill as he perused it, eyes shifting between the text and her abruptly delighted expression.

She twisted her fingers in her skirt, gazing up at him expectantly with wide, anticipatory eyes.

How could he deny her when she looked at him like that?

“As Tears do spill across the sky and light a path for evening’s flight– a single sorrowful drop from up on high, a light within the flow’ring eye.  A jewel gleams, the scarlet bloom, lit by the tender loving moon, who yearns, to light my lady fair.  As my heart does ache without her here.”

He finished his lazy oration, and she smiled up at him, this time without the sardonic air.  Rising to her feet, she tipped her head and impishly did a little spin, banishing the disguise spell as she did so.  The heavy bleached linen skirt twisted around her ankles, bare blue hands lifting to the sky as she came to a stop.  Her laughter, rich and soft, filled the air as her moonstone eyes turned up to him.

When had she become so precious?

Why did it hurt?

[tadpole-apocalypse]

My favorite genderfluid little drow bard Zynatheri. Or was it Zyrenna? Oh well they’ll have a new name and face tomorrow.

For @psalacanthea , who writes one of my favorite ongoing astarion x tav fanfics ☺️

a closeup:

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- Ch: 13

A new chapter of the Baldur’s Gate 3 fic is up!  In which Zynatheri’s worst habits come back to bite her in the ass, leaving her with no support as they prepare to delve into the place she hates and fears more than anything-- the Underdark.

...

Astarion slowly glanced over his shoulder, his scarlet eyes pinning hers as they met, brilliant rubies that gleamed with a shocking intensity.

Every single one of her senses was screaming danger, and she inadvertently staggered back.  Before she could compose herself, he fixed her with an icy stare.  It was an ordinary sort of annoyance on his face, if not for the way her instincts were clamoring.  

“What?” he asked, voice unreadable.

Ugh, she was too sick for this.  “Whatever it is you want so you stop throwing a tantrum over likely nothing, just tell me so I can give it to you.”

“I beg your–”  Astarion’s shocked laughter cut off, and his voice hardened.  “Right, of course.  You’ve never done anything wrong, have you?  Just go away.”

“Okay, I don’t know what this charade is, but I don’t think it’s very fair after all day annoying me by poking and prodding at me that you turn around and dismiss me.  Please just tell me what to say so this can be over!”  she groaned, pushing her hands into her forehead.  Why did he keep making this complicated?

“Annoying you?  Was that what I was doing?”  Astarion asked, voice full of scornful laughter.

“I kept telling you to stop!” she protested, throwing up her hands.  There was an edge to this conversation that was arguing, not banter, and she didn’t like it.  It should have been bickering.  Bickering was much better than…this.

“And you were the one who told me that stop doesn’t mean stop.”

Zyn’s brain momentarily stopped working.  Okay, well, yes, but…  “That obviously only referred to sex.  Don’t twist things to try and be right.”

“Don’t spend all day rejecting even the slightest hint of camaraderie only to demand my attention the instant people’s backs are turned,” Astarion replied, voice heavy with condescending disdain.  He turned his knife over, staring at it critically as the metal gleamed in the light of the setting sun.  “I suppose it’s my fault, for trusting a single word that comes out of your lying mouth.  Isn’t it, darling?”

She wasn’t sure why he was accusing her of lying, but she didn’t honestly care right now, considering how awful she felt.

“Ooh, my lying mouth, hmm?  Did you suddenly acquire morals?” she asked sharply.  How dare a fucking vampire of all things try to lecture her?  She scoffed, lifting a hand and waving dismissively.  “Conveniently timed.  Don’t put yourself on a pedestal and claim you’ve found moral high ground; righteousness tarnishes when it touches you.”

She almost laughed at the viciously offended look he gave her.  Really?  After what he’d said to her, he had the gall to actually be upset by her response?  Quite honestly, his arrogance was shocking.

He’d been deliberately irritating her all day, and now he had the nerve to reject her when she just wanted some comfort and company?

But she wasn’t going to get what she wanted by antagonizing him, and she didn’t really feel up to this bickering.

“I feel bad.  Can we just stop fighting, please?”  she asked wearily, rubbing her forehead again.  “Have a lie down?”

“Oh, well, of course.  It’s all about you after all, isn’t it?  You really are the most selfish person I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

Wait, what?  He was saying that to her?  Rolling her eyes, Zyn shook her head in disbelief.  “I can’t believe a vampire of all things has the gall to say that.”

Silence was her response.

It went on for long enough to make her itchy, but when she finally gave up and glanced at him, his expression stopped her dead.  It was blank.  Completely blank, and not in shock.  No, the pressure of his stare was anything but confused, and despite the lack of expression she could feel a chill shiver down her spine.  Unease rooted into her already queasy stomach, the unrelenting, unblinking stare making her take a half-step back.

The knife in his hand gleamed, fingers poised on the edge of the blade.

“I…”

Her heart froze.

“Shut. Up,” he said quietly, voice sharp with frigid menace.

“Y–”

The tension in the air snapped like a whip, a crackle of violence and impact that forcibly grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her away, staggering.  Instincts, puppeting her body before her mind could do something stupid.  Again.

“I said get away from me!” he snarled, vicious and icy, bolting to his feet.

Some part of her, like a rabbit leaping through the grass, drove her to flee from his presence.  Zyn staggered a couple steps in a panic, before she straightened up, shame overwhelming those baser impulses.  Ah, shame.  

Always first to the party.

[psalacanthea]

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Baldur's Gate, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, baldur's gate 3 - Fandom Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s), Astarion/Charname (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Angst, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Smut, Shameless Smut Summary:

Zynatheri is a drow with no place to call home.

Raised in Waterdeep, at odds with the Underdark, she doesn't belong anywhere. She wears many faces, lives many contradictory lives, and as a bard all her songs are stolen. Her history means she has no luck- literally- and she's resigned to her existence as a forgotten person, a background character. She's fine with that. In nearly two centuries of life, she's been so many people she doesn't even know who she is any more.

Chaotic, deceitful, and hedonistic, she'll do just about anything for a laugh...except be functional.

Then suddenly she's thrown into an unfortunate adventure with a group of people as suspicious and terrible as she is. She can't possibly trust them, can she? Liars, charlatans, and fakes, they're thrown together to try and survive. They draw her out, the worst possible thing to happen, and for once in her life...she might be vulnerable. Even worse, she might make friends.

How awful.

...

This fic is an Early Access fic and ends during act one, so no big story spoilers!  The very last chapter is delayed by life but will be up by the end of the weekend!  (It’s smut.)  Fic is obviously no longer accurate to the game in its completed state, but it’s fun regardless.

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- Ch: 15

help this is 16,000 fucking words of very explicit smut and flirting but it's finally done and so is the Early Access fic!

The fic is now closed until I finish playing the game and rewrite these first 15 chapters to fit the new canon. Once the rewrite is done I will be deleting the fic and starting over, so please if you like, download! (i like the fic name too much to just make a new one >3)

...

“You are so nippy tonight!”

Zyn pushed Astarion off of her for about the fourth time, ignoring his smug little smirk.  She slapped a hand to the back of her neck, annoyed when it came up clean– he hadn’t broken the skin.  If he had, she might have had reason to yell at him some more.  He seemed to be in the mood to rile her up.

“How do we know it’s night?” he retorted, laughing as she glared at him.  

With a grumble of frustration, she turned back to shaking out her bedroll, bending over to lay it out next to his.  She’d only just dropped it when a sudden digital invasion of her hindquarters had her jerking back upright, eyes going wide as she yelped in surprise.  Astarion laughed and retreated as she spun to face him, holding up his hands defensively as she stalked towards him.

“Do not goose me, blaggard!”

“You squeaked!  Like a little mouse!” he replied delightedly.

“Shush,” she warned him, glancing back at the doorway as her hand flattened against his chest.  Thankfully he’d been fine with tucking up in the ancient dining hall of the temple, and she couldn’t really see out past it.  It felt safer.  Closed-in.  As long as she didn’t look up.  Laying down a glyph of warding had helped her nerves, too.

“The arrogance.   Shushing me when you’re going to be screaming for me soon?”

Ugh, at least he was in good spirits.

“Go break that shelf down, I want to light the fire,” she replied irritably, giving him a little shove.

“I thought we were being discreet,” he replied, and then laughed as she sighed in exasperation and slumped, forehead thumping into his chest.  “Yes, I know.  It’s miserable,” Astarion said with mocking sympathy.  He stroked her hair.

“I just want a nice rug in front of a fireplace.  I’m not even asking for a bed!”  She took a moment to summon some dancing lights instead, a violet-blue light washing over them.

His arms wrapped around her, one hand patting her between the shoulders.  “As is your right.  You’ve had a very long day.  But you seemed to enjoy yourself when we weren’t nearly dying.”

Zyn smirked, peeking up at him.  “Are you talking about the kiss, or that little prig I scared the trousers off of?”

“Oh, the little prig.  I know you enjoyed the kiss.  I could hear your heartbeat picking up.  Your blood…warming,” Astarion murmured, voice sending little thrills of enjoyment down her spine.  He leaned down towards her ear, lips brushing against her skin.  “Tell me.  Did you enjoy bullying him?”  He whispered dangerously, voice low and menacing.  

Zyn wasn’t in the least bit displeased with the change in the timbre of their conversation.  When she smirked, rolling her eyes to the side, the hand on her shoulder slowly trailed across her chest.  His dragging fingertips painted the fragile bones pressing against her thin skin, a delicate warning.  She tilted her chin up as he stroked across her throat.  A beckon, a promise, and…a threat.  

In fulfillment of it, his hand wrapped around her neck.

“Did you, my sweet?  Did you enjoy making him grovel?  Enjoy hearing him call you…”  His voice was dripping with sinister viciousness.  “Mistress?”

[psalacanthea]

Six-Sentence Sunday

because I now officially have a problem, some writing about Astarion's hands. Sorry. Shout out to anyone who wants to be tagged in the future, pls just let me know!

...

But it wasn’t specifically those eyes that drew her, or the lips curled into a condescendingly feline smile, or even the carelessly unbuttoned top button that bared sharp clavicles.

It was the hand holding his wine glass.

A restless hand, it was slim and long-fingered as if he was born to paint or play an instrument.  It shifted, moved, tapping against the glass, thumb rubbing the base, muscles flexing under pale skin.  A seductive hand.  Hard not to imagine what it might do, if that mocking smirk of his was turned on her in private.

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

this one’s for all my slutty friends out there.  Some second-round foreplay from the Baldur’s Gate 3 fic.  I shan’t tag anyone but if you would like to be tagged let me know and I shall from here on in!  fandom doesn’t matter :D

...

“No,” Zynatheri denied lazily, releasing Astarion.  As he peered at her with half-lidded eyes, she pushed up over him again, arms draping over his shoulders.  Zyn had a bit of an inkling she knew how to deal with him now– a new tactic to get what she wanted.  It’d taken her long enough.

In her defense, she usually didn’t have to try very hard to get what she wanted.

His hand idly lifted, knuckles dragging down her shoulder and upper arm.  “You have a very intent look on your face.”

“You’re so selfish,” she pouted, tangling her fingers in his hair as she slung her knee over his waist.  “I behaved so nicely for you, but you won’t even let me have a little in return.  It’s just not fair. You’re so pretty but you won’t be my toy.” 

She wasn’t sure if she’d get an immediate rejection and annoyance, or something that left her a little wiggle room.  Either was fine.  Part of her really wanted to see if he would do as she’d asked and kiss her when she made him angry.

“It depends entirely on your games, my little fox, and how you intend to play them,” he replied lazily, but with a hint of caution.

A promising response.  And a little surprising.  “Your hands only do what I tell them to,” she said, leaning down until her nose nudged his.  “Because they’re very naughty, bad and selfish hands, and last time I was trying to have my fun they ruined it.”

“Darling, lest you forget, you still enjoyed yourself so intensely that you passed out,” he replied, not bothering to hide his wicked amusement.

She glared.  “It was blood loss.”

“Hmmh,” he agreed with a supremely smug air.

“Hands.  Above your head,” she snapped, annoyed with his superior attitude.  Malice and misfortune, he would never let that one go, would he?  Well, if she’d been in his position, she wouldn’t either, quite honestly.

“I don’t like that voice,” he said instantly, expression cooling off.

Zyn fought the urge to roll her eyes.  If she was going to push boundaries, she really should be careful about it, but he was so frust– right.  Oh.  Of course he was frustrating.  Relaxing, she glanced down at him and her frown turned into a slow, amused smile.

Zynatheri had dealt with a brat before.

And she did already know what voice he did like, didn’t she?

“Fine,” she agreed lazily, reaching up and catching his chin lightly in her fingers.  Not a caging grip, just a possessive caress.  “I’ll spoil you, then.  If you behave, that is.”  Lowering her voice, she let it slide into that lazy, sexual purr she knew he enjoyed so very much.  “As long as you do, I’ll talk to you nicely.  Don’t you want to be good for me?  I know you can be…”  Her lips caught his ear lobe, a teasing little bite and a caress of the tip of her tongue.

“Don’t you dare,” he denied, but she could hear it was strained, strength in his voice stolen as she bit his earlobe again.

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- 14

Link to Chapter 14, in which Zynatheri nearly stumbles into character growth, and then she gets better.  The next chapter will be posted ON release day for the game.  Then the fic will be edited to fit the new canon.

...

“A moment,”  Astarion interrupted, grabbing her by the elbow.  “A word?”

Hells! She hadn’t even realized he’d been standing there!  Instinctively she tried to shove him off, push him away, but as she did while whipping her head around, their eyes met.

His softened, and his voice lowered.  “Please.”

The corners of his eyes softened, smile turning charmingly chagrined, and Zyn was slain.  Lost.  He could have had anything he wanted right in that moment.  Damn, the man was pretty.

“Mmh,” she agreed, letting him drag her away from Gale with a hint of resistance just for her pride's sake.  Curious, confused, she peeked up at him as they walked.   His face was oddly tense.  “Afraid I’m telling someone else a secret, again?”  she teased him with a petty bite as he dragged her down the tunnel and just around a corner from everyone else.

She stifled a sound of surprise as he abruptly flung her around and slammed her back into the wall.  Astarion leaned over her, pinning her between the cave wall and his body, a sudden heat rising in his eyes that no one but her would have been able to see.  Impishly, she reached up and tweaked his chin.  She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but when he threw her around like this and looked at her like  that  she really couldn’t resist letting her defenses down.

“I wasn’t telling any secrets, silly boy,” she purred teasingly.

She gave a surprised little ‘mfh’ against his mouth as he abruptly kissed her, tongue forcing its way rudely into her mouth.  His mouth was fierce, hungry, like he was trying to devour her or steal the very air from her lungs.  Shock faded, her tongue twisting with his as he savagely claimed her mouth, her lips already starting to throb from the force of his.  Well, if this was how she was going to die, then she’d happily suffocate.

And then as quickly as he’d kissed her he pulled away, leaving her befuddled and more than a little turned on.

[psalacanthea]

WiP Whenever

I don’t know, lol, it’s Saturday night.  Thanks, @kirkwalls-dumbest’s and @oxygenforthewicked for the tag.  Here’s a little of the Baldur’s Gate 3 fic.  NSFWish 

A small, confused noise escaped her as her back hit the bed, room spinning.  

Zyn had very little idea why she was being tossed about, but she was in no state to defend herself.  Besides, as always he was nice and cool, and she was drunk and terribly overheated.  She opened her arms wide and flopped them onto the bed, lights blurring above her head as the bed shifted.

“You made a mess.  Why’d you do that?”

“Well, I was in a bad mood,” Astarion said, yanking her boots off one at a time.  “Because someone was feeling very provoking.”

She pursed her lips, tucking a finger under the lower one as he dropped her boots to the floor with a thud.  “I can’t imagine who.  What are you doing?”

“Dealing with a lack of discipline.  Or did you think you would be allowed to act like that and then come merrily traipsing back here with absolutely no repercussions whatsoever?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she denied lazily, the word ‘discipline’ rousing an intriguing little flicker of interest.

“No?  So you think deliberately infuriating me and then running off to play should be allowed?”  he asked, grabbing her behind the knees and yanking her towards the edge of the bed.  She made a little sound of protest, head sloshing back and forth.  His grip was tight around her knees.  

“You think I should be expected to put up with that, and then…what?  Welcome you home and say all is forgiven?”

“That would be best for me, yes,” she agreed, lips curving up into a little smirk.

“But darling, you’ve forgotten something.”

“What?”

“Bad pets get punished.”

His scarlet eyes were locked on hers, and there was just a moment, a breath of expectation.  He was waiting for something.  Ah, of course.  She should remember and reward him when he minded his manners; after all, he was still learning.

She’d give him what he wanted.

Rather than using her word, she reached up and impetuously clutched him by the cheeks, fingers digging in as she squished his face.  “But I haven’t done anything wrong. I never do anything wrong.”

Astarion grabbed her by the wrists, wrenching her hands away and pinning them to the bed.  She was pettily amused by a scarlet streak one of her nails left on his cheekbone.  She wanted to lick it, but he was holding her down.

“I suppose I’ll have to spark your memory, then.  So I’ll give you an option, love.  Do you want the hand or the belt?”

The belt was an intriguing idea; it would leave some awfully nice welts.  But they’d never played like this before, and she did like finding out what someone could do with their hands.  She did love his.  On the other hand, the belt was so impersonal, and that could make it better.

It made the punishment worse, less intimate, magnifying every actual touch of skin on skin, making her long for it.  Beg for it.

But, mmmh…hands.

“It isn’t supposed to be a difficult question, pet,” he murmured, the stern facade momentarily breaking to let through his amusement with her indecisiveness.

[psalacanthea]

Thirsty Thursday

Thank you @kirkwalls-dumbest for the tag, haha.  I hope a little Baldur’s Gate 3 is okay.  Some Zyn and Astarion, pre-smut but cw for a little D/s dynamic

“Miss Zynelle,” the serving girl said, approaching with a nervously spooked, but envious air.  “The gentleman by the stairs would like to express his appreciation for the music and share a drink with you.”

Zyn was torn between triumph and disappointment.  She’d been hoping Astarion would let her make him more jealous.  It seemed he wasn’t even in the mood for that.  She would need to be extra careful of his temper.

“Thank you,” Zyn said, dipping her head.

Urien had an uneasy look on his gormless face.  “You’re not going to go, are you?  He might have bad intentions.  My da always told us not to take drinks from strangers.”

“Only the worst, I’m sure,” Zyn laughed, gathering up her things.  “Don’t worry.  I’m sure he just wants me to work for my tip a little by flattering him and having a drink.  What’s the harm?”

Before the boy could argue, or- gods forbid- get chivalric, she rose to her feet with a smile and a tip of her head.  And then, without a word, she turned on her heel and approached her beloved predator, steeling herself for his displeasure.  It was easy to forget how much she missed him on the road, with every day a new adventure, but with him so close it came in a rush.

Forlorn, desperate longing.

It was all she could do not to run.

When she rounded the divider that hid his table from the tavern he was there, leaning back in his seat with a look of open displeasure, hand cradling his pale cheek, red eyes focused in on her with a chilling stare.  How he had grown even more handsome, she didn’t know, but the casual menace in his posture had her stomach tightening with aching need.

“I was careless, I lost track of time,” she said instantly, penitently, abandoning her lute carelessly with a thud and a soft thrum of the strings.  “I should have come home.  Let’s go home.”

“Do you really think it’s going to be that easy?” Astarion asked her, and while she was grateful he wasn’t ignoring her, the lack of a proper greeting hurt.  

She discarded her wine on the table and attempted to put her knee on the seat next to him, to climb up and wrap her arms around him, but he carelessly pushed her off with a single hand.  The shove was harder than she’d anticipated, and she stumbled and fell back on her ass on the floor.

Hard.

Zyn fixed him with a hurt look and started to rise.  Fine, if this was how he wanted to play, she’d play.  “I missed you.  I love you so much.”

“Stay down, you manipulative little pest,” he snapped, planting a foot on her thigh.  The pressure was lighter than she would have liked, but she didn’t fight him to make him step on her harder.  Right now it wasn’t about what she wanted, it was about what he wanted.  As much as that disappointed her.  

“I love you as well, which is why I’m so frustrated with you breaking your promise.  Three months.”  His voice rose minutely, but the aggression and tension were suddenly far more intense.  “Three months and you said you would be home.  You lied to me.”

“I made a mistake,” she murmured, leaning in and nuzzling her cheek against his knee, eyes fixed on his face.  Drinking him in.  His hand reached down, but only to twist in her hair, pinning her in place.  It didn’t even hurt.

Oh.  He was actually angry.

She probably should have been less delighted with that.

“Mistake?  Hah!”  He laughed mockingly.  His voice trailed off, full of scorn and dismissal.  “I don’t even know why I bother.  I should have never let you go.  So damned...fickle.”  He spat the last word.

“I’ll be good.  I’ll follow at your heels like a dog; I’ll serve your every need.  I promise I’ll stay until you say I can go.”

Astarion stared down at her, disbelief clear on his expressive face.  His fingers twisted in her hair, forcing her chin up, starting to make her scalp ache.  “If you think I’m going to let you leave home after you’ve pulled this stunt, you’re extremely mistaken.”

It had been anticipated, but it was still irritating.  Well, maybe after six months or so of placating his ego he’d come around.  If not, she’d just run away.  “Anything you need,” she lied submissively.

“Drop the disguise.”

Genuine panic overtook her, and she glanced over her shoulder.  The screen was hiding them for now, but… “Let’s go upstairs,” she bargained desperately, her little facade of playing coy dropped without a thought.  “Astarion, don’t you dare do this to me here, you bastard.”

“I won’t kiss you until you’re mine.”

“All of me is yours,” she lied hopefully.

He just stared at her in silence, well aware of how much she hated it.

Restlessly Zyn fidgeted, stilled when he shifted his grip on her hair and started to release her.  No, no, no.  Shit, she didn’t want him to do that.  Anything but that.

Huffing out a sigh, she capitulated and dropped her disguise spell with a flick of her fingers.  Instantly his foot left her thigh, and he used the hand in her hair to drag her to her feet.  It hurt, finally hurt, the good pain cutting through her worry and fear of being exposed with a rush of arousal.

It was safe to be exposed when he was here.

He was the one who knew her.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and pulled her into his lap.

Greedily she straddled him and leaned into the demanding kiss he pressed down on her, tilting her head back with a sharp tug on her scalp.  Already wet and wanton for him, she let him savage her lips and tongue, wrapping her arms around his neck as she ground her hips into his lap.  He was as hopeless as she was, cock already hard and straining against his trousers as she did everything she could to show him how much she needed him.

“Dirty little bitch,” he accused roughly as he pulled back from her swollen lips, voice thick and low.  “Is this really what you want?  In public?”

Already forced to give up her disguise, having forgotten the faces and names of everyone else that had mattered just moments before, she nodded frantically, burying her face against his neck and rolling her hips against him.  It crashed into her; an emptiness only he could fill.  “Please.  I’ll do anything, just let me fuck you.”

“Anything?  So if I wanted you to snap that little whelp’s neck just to get a taste of me, you’d do it, would you?”

“Who?” she asked, hazy and puzzled, but pleased when it made him laugh.  The sound made her smile, tilting her chin up as his fingers caught it, stroking under her lower lip.  She hopefully parted her lips, but his fingers slid down her throat instead, turning a lazy stroke into a loose clutch of his hand around her neck.  A possessive grip.

“An excellent answer,” he told her, and smiled with a hint of fangs.  “Very well, love, take what you want.  Just try not to scream too much, we’ll draw unwanted attention.  Do you need me to gag you?”

“Just kiss me,” she murmured, already reaching for the lacing of his trousers.  Desperate to have him, desperate to pay for her crime, all she could think about was drowning herself in him until she felt whole and safe again.  “Just kiss me until I suffocate.”

“Oh,” he murmured, fingers tightening against the side of her neck, a threat of choking pressure, “...you’ll suffocate, my love.”

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

Hi!  Thanks to @kirkwalls-dumbest and @oxygenforthewicked for the tag!  I would tag ppl, but it looks like I’m late to the party and everyone’s already posted >)   Have some BG3 wip because I’m thinking about this terrible evil little man again.

...

Zynatheri shoved violently against Astarion’s shoulder, pushing him away from her ear.  Annoyance made her a bit more honest with her words than she’d meant to be.  “You led me too far and all you did was take.  You abandoned me,” she snapped.  And then immediately regretted it.

“Abandoned?” he asked curiously.

“It doesn’t matter.  At any rate, I’m allowed to-”

“No, no, no.  Let’s revisit that particular word.”

“Let’s not.”

“Are you upset because I wasn’t there when you woke up?” he asked, voice scaling up in disbelief.  “Is that really what this is about?  I was less than twenty steps away!  And you’re the one who slunk off with barely a word.  If anything, I should be offended.  Which I was, incidentally.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, scoffing.  “It wasn’t that.”

“Wasn’t about…is this fit of dramatics entirely about the fact that I didn’t cuddle?  You were half passed out!”  he said, mocking laughter in his voice.

At the end of her rope and not quite knowing how to put it into words, the core of her frustration finally just spilled out of her, high and irritable.  “You can’t just take, Astarion!  And if you do, you can’t be surprised if I want nothing more to do with you.  Why are you so obsessed with trying to make me trust you?  It’s not as if you’d ever trust me!  Why did you make me give everything and give me nothing yourself?!  I was there too!  I wasn’t just a- a body!”

This time when she shoved him away, he tumbled onto his side away from her.  Irritably she turned over, back to him, and yanked the blanket over her head.  Tucking her arm under her cheek, she kicked at the tangled bottom of the blanket a few times before settling with a huff of breath.

“Zyn.”

“I’m not a fucking toy, Astarion.  I’m not a thing for you to play with.”

“I made a mistake,” he said penitently, but it wasn’t enough.

Not nearly enough.

He’d never be actually sorry because he probably wasn’t capable of it, but hadn’t she earned some groveling?

“Just meditate and leave me be,” she growled.  “You’re lucky I’m not kicking you out.”

“Lover, I’m sorry,” he replied quietly, voice sinuously ingratiating.  “Don’t be angry with me.”

“Leave me alone,” she replied, scowling as a hand slid over her hip, atop the blanket.  She pulled out her hand and smacked the back of his.

“Punish me as much as you like, just don’t ignore me,” he said, the hand sliding across her stomach and tucking under her other hip, ignoring her half-hearted attack.  “Come out of there, you’re ridiculous.”

“No,” she refused, squirming as he tugged her inch by inch backwards.  “Stop pulling on me.”

“Fine, then I’ll come to you, if you’re going to be so stubborn.”

The hand under her hip abruptly grabbed hold of her blanket, and she barely had time to brace herself before he yanked it.  The lower half was pulled away, but she was clutching tightly to the top.  Her fingers twisted in the blanket, refusing to let go.  “Fuck off!”

“How crude,” he chided her, another hard yank sending her tumbling onto her back.  “Let me in, darling.”

“I don’t want to,” she snapped, failing to keep her voice from turning coy.  “It’s my blanket.”

“But we’re sharing tonight,” he protested.

The argument turned into a tussle, her spite and anger gradually draining under his unrelenting cajoling.  By the time he pinned her, blanket long-since tossed to the side, she’d scaled down to a petulant sulk.  She turned her head to the side as he released her wrists and wrapped her up in his arms, dodging the kiss that landed on her cheek.

“All right.  You go ahead and get it out of your system,” he said indulgently, rolling onto his back and dragging her with him.  “I’ve been very bad, and I deserve this entirely.”

She snorted, scowling at the wall of the tiny tent as he tucked his cheek on top of her head.  “You’re a selfish bastard.”

His voice took on a cajoling note.  “Yes, I’m a bastard.  A very, very naughty man who hasn’t been taking proper care of you, and I’m sorry.  I’ll do better, I swear!  Until…we inevitably get bored of each other, of course.”

She pressed her lips together tightly, fighting the twitch of the corner of her mouth.

“Was that a smile?”

“No!”

“Hmmh, all right.  I believe you,” he said lazily, with a hint of mocking humor.  “There.  Was that so hard?”

“That’s rich coming from someone who snarls like a cornered wolf every time someone brings up a subject he doesn’t like,” she scoffed.

“At least I don’t throw tantrums.”

“Yes you do!”

Astarion laughed lazily.

She gave a small, annoyed noise and burrowed closer.

His voice lowered, quiet and still smugly amused.  “I was not trying to push you away, you ridiculous, sullen little creature.  I was trying to not kill you.  I only have so much self-control, and you’re positively delectable.  You were soft and helpless and exhausted…do you know how much of a temptation that is?”

She was annoyed that her resistance was withering.  “I hate you.”

“Liar.  I think you’ll find I warned you, didn’t I?  Now, why don’t you actually tell me what you want instead of endangering my life by making our resident hero think you need rescuing from me?”

Zyn huffed out a grumpy sigh, hating that his response was reasonable.  Still, she wasn’t going to give up her high ground so easily.  He didn’t get to make this her fault.  “Don’t treat me like a bloody fucktoy unless you’re going to coddle me after.  It’s common decency.  I didn’t even get a bloody ‘good girl’ for my trouble, and that’s not fair.”

Luckily for him, Astarion was still cajoling her, voice soft and tender.  “As you like.  I’ll do better.  I swear.”

“Good,” she said simply.

“And for the record,” he murmured against her ear, a single finger stroking down her cheek, with just the hint of a nail, “you were a very...very good girl.”

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance & Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- Ch. 12

a new chapter in the Baldur’s Gate 3 fic about polymorph kink, accidentally running into your ex, daddy issues, and Zynatheri’s no good, very bad day.

...

“We’ve been doing a lot of annoying shite but at least there’s always looting to sweeten my mood,” Zynatheri joked.  Her good mood dissolved, however, when a weight was slung around her shoulders, dragging her to the side.  The sudden slosh of her stomach made her all too well aware that it was still getting worse.  She was starting to feel pretty damned shitty.  Glancing up and aside at Astarion, she glared at him.  “What.”

“Don’t be so touchy, darling,” he scolded her, and then gestured with his chin at a rather too-fussy, pathetically disheveled man nearby she hadn’t noticed before.  Well dressed, if in an unkempt state.  Astarion’s voice turned wheedling.  “I spent all my coin on potions and arrows.  Buy him for me.”

“I don’t buy people,” she replied, rolling her eyes at Brem.  “What is it, another kidnapping for coin venture?  When the Fist are nearby?”

“Not like that,” he denied, looking offended.  “That’s a real artist there.  A painter.  Figured I could…you know, sell the paintings.”  At her disapproving look, his voice went defensive.  “What?”

Seriously?

“Another scheme,” she scoffed, shaking her head.  “This one’s going to come to naught, too.  Astarion, we can’t take a bloody painter on the road either.  No matter how much your pretty face deserves to be immortalized.”  She gave him a little pinch on the chin, and he smirked at her.  “Off,” she added.

His arms tightened, hugging her back to his chest.  “No.  What about the bard?”

Zyn scowled at the mention of Volo.  Ugh, that was right, he’d managed to find their camp again despite her best attempts.  Gale kept telling her she couldn’t murder him.  Rude.  “We’ll manage to shake the faker off eventually.”  There was no way he was actually the real Volothamp.

Damn bards were all thieves, she knew it well.

“Then give me the coin to buy him, and I’ll send him off ahead of us.  You’re already bartering, and I’ve given you several presents.  Supporting me in becoming…a patron of the arts is the least you can do.”  Astarion reached up and yanked on the end of her braid, pulling it out of its bun.  He smiled at the offended look she turned on him, thumb stroking over the plait of her braid.  And then pulled one of those accursed puppy-dog looks he was so good at.  “Please?”

Damn the man.

Zyn sighed heavily, shifting her attention back to Brem.  “You know this is a stupid idea, especially while trying to dodge the Fist.  I’m doing you a favor paying you off for him.”

Brem grimaced, and then tipped his head in acknowledgement.  “Plans changed, so you’re not wrong.  I'll tell you what.”  He sorted through the jewelry with a fingertip, eventually picking out three rings and a necklace.  Gold, all gold.  And worse, both the diamond and the gorgeous ruby she’d managed to bury deep.

At her little pained sound of denial, Astarion’s lips nuzzled against her ear, rousing little tingles.  “For me?” he purred quietly.

“Should I trade gold for silver?” she asked, not hiding the pout in her voice as she tilted her head away from him.

“It’s not about the money, darling, don’t be so transactional.  You just happen to look better in silver than gold.  Do you want to be painted on horseback, or lounging on a divan, draped in scraps of diaphanous silk?” Astarion said, hands sliding down to her hips.  His voice was damnably alluring.  

“The latter.  Tits out,” she groused, already trying to decide which visage would be worthy of such a portrait.  Zynelle, maybe?  It was her most well-known face.  But she hadn’t been Klosapina in a while.  Mmh, which face should be painted?

“Naturally.”

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- 10

A chapter in which Zyn has a Feeling, so she sabotages everything possible to be in control again because that is what mature adults do.  CW for chapter:  consensual choking

...

Zyn woke up feeling strange.

Uneasy.

Not just from the blood loss, but from the aftermath of it all.  It reminded her a bit of some of the harder enticements she’d engaged in from time to time, that sort of hang-over of the soul that tended to come afterwards.  But this was worse.

Astarion had made her feel vulnerable.

It was unpleasant, unwelcome, and unwanted.

Oh, at the time she’d wanted it, but arousal could turn the worst idea into one that sounded good.  She’d been convinced to do something out of her comfort zone, but she couldn’t blame him for that- she’d been a willing participant.  Zyn was too damn old to pretend she didn’t know how to say no.

But the fact of the matter was that he’d somehow goaded her into something far different than simple hedonistic enjoyment, and she hadn’t even thought for a second about the aftermath.  Nothing in how he had approached her before had prepared her for the idea that he might be interested in intimacy.  Zyn was perfectly willing to engage in almost all types of sex, but not intimacy.  It made her viscerally uncomfortable unless it was with a friend.

Or at least…it always had before.

When she'd been in other circumstances that required such closeness- restrained and deprived of her senses, stimulated via various methods of pain, even that one time with the lightning magic…at the end there had been comfort.  There had been someone who understood what it would do to her and helped her through it.  There had been trust.  Or at least professional courtesy.

What had happened last night…

There had been no trust, not with him, and not with herself.  But for some reason she’d gravitated towards it anyway.  And then in the end, not a word of praise, not a bit of admiration- he’d made it all about him.  Now here she was, hung over in the heart and soul, having bared things she didn’t want bared to someone she didn’t trust them with.  And worse, he’d given her nothing in return.  He hadn’t given up control the entire night, and the fact that she’d let him crack through her shell anyways made her uneasy.

Embarrassed.

Like he’d won and she’d lost, as if it were a fight and not an act of…of companionship.  She had a sneaking suspicion that it literally meant nothing to him, which did make her feel quite a lot better about it on a mental level, but her body and emotions didn’t seem to care.  She felt skittish, uneasy, unhappy, and utterly drained.

What a disaster of a one night stand.

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- Ch. 11

new chapter of the fic here.  An entire chapter of people who are bad at emotions trying to talk about them without actually talking about them.  And negotiating a new little bedroom farce.

(if you haven’t played BG3 i highly recommend even though it’s in early access don’t come for me ;)

...

“I am not him,” Astarion said, interrupting her, his voice calm and composed but with something turbulent lurking underneath.

Oh.

Was that what this was about?

“I know,” she said, able to guess easily enough.  There was only one ‘him’ that haunted and plagued Astarion so.  Putting together the pieces from their argument that morning… “I said no and you stopped.  You didn’t hurt me.  You’re not him.”

Some of the viciousness escaped.  “I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t.”

Zyn was all too aware this was a dangerous situation, but not only because he was so volatile.  It was also because she was in danger of feeling something she very much did not want to.  Empathy.  It was a perfectly fine emotion when making music or playing dramatic little love games, but she’d been exposed.  It was only her, no disguises.

And that made empathy dangerous.

He gave her an irritably cold look, scarlet eyes scornful.  “I hate the way you looked at me.”

“It wasn’t you I was afraid of.”

He laughed sarcastically, dripping with disbelief.

Since Zyn wasn’t sure how to explain it without saying things she didn’t want to, she just watched him instead.  His eyes shifted restlessly, but they kept wandering back to hers.  He seemed reluctant, almost annoyed to be there, but he certainly wasn’t going anywhere.

The silence stretched between them again, until she asked quietly, “did you eat?”

“It didn’t help.”

“Time will.”  She’d expected his scoff, so she just kept talking.  “You’re being chased, I understand, it’s hard to stop looking over your shoulder.”

“I cannot rest, I can’t-”

Unexpectedly, that was what stabbed through the protective barrier, finally getting through.  How many days had she spent huddled in the back of a cave, certain they were about to find her?  Blood still under her nails, the metallic taste in the back of her throat, terrified every time she awoke from drifting off into meditation.

Praying for a moment of rest to every god she could remember, all of them silent.

But it hadn’t been gods that had saved her.

Damn it.

“Come,” she said simply, extending a hand to him.  She was already cursing herself for a fool, but it was too late.  “Come here.  You rest, I’ll watch over you.”

“I don’t need you.”

“I know,” she said calmly.  “I don’t need you, either.  But I’m here.  Isn’t that good enough?  Just lie down and let yourself know that you don’t have to watch your own back for a little while.  It doesn’t have to be any more than that.  I’m so tired, Astarion.”

[psalacanthea]

WiP Whenever

I don't know what to say. It's in my head so I wrote it down to try and purge it (but ofc this is a plot bunny so I just gave it more space in my brain). If you want me to continue writing this, please do let me know.

Astarion x Tav, modern au. When you accidentally rescue a spoiled brat on the street who got turned into a vampire last night.

...

There was someone in Zynatheri's bedroom- not unusual, but she didn't remember bringing anyone home from last night's gig.

Eventually, she realized the intermittent creaking and shifting of her mattress was not, in fact, a one night stand trying to sneak out without waking her, but someone kicking it.

One eye slowly cracked open, took note of the thin streak of light peeking between her curtains, and Zyn closed her eyes again.  Still daytime.  “M’sleeping.  See y’self out.”

A high, irritated voice drilled into her brain like a five in the morning construction crew.  “Why are you sleeping?  You’re marginally elven.  It’s been five hours, get up already.  Your fridge is empty, I'm hungry, and you don’t have any tea.”

Her mattress was kicked again in an irritable rhythm, like a tantruming child.

Oh, right, she’d accidentally picked up some patriar on a bender last night who'd wandered into the wrong neighborhood and gotten jumped.  Great.  She gathered up her blanket from under her neck and chest, and bunched it up so she could shove her face into it.  “M’nocturnal, sun hurts my eyes.  Go home.”

“I can’t go home!” His voice finally penetrated with some nuance, and she realized he sounded…scared.  Why was he scared?  His voice sharpened.  “Now wake up!”

Why was he scared and annoying?

Last night’s chaos and confusion finally filtered in, reminding her of just what the hell was going on.  He’d all but burst into her apartment just before dawn, yelling something about being chased.  Right.  She’d assumed he’d gotten lost slumming it, and had given him a couch and thrown a ward on the door because she was too tired to deal with it.

But now it was daytime and he was still here.  

Ick.

Why couldn’t he go– “Dedicated robber.  I guess.”  Reaching up, she pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing her fingertips into the corners of her eyes.  Ick, eye crunchies.  Still not paying attention to him, she excavated them with a nail, flopping over onto her side.  “Just go out through the alley, there’s a door marked garbage in the lobby.”

“That won’t stop me from burning!”

Something was shoved into the line of her blurry vision, which she lifted a hand to bat out of the way, only to realize the skin was blistered and peeling.  Wait, what?  Was that– “Are you burned?”  Had he been burned before?  She didn’t think so.  Well, he was a patriar.  “Did you try to cook or something?”

“No, the sun did this.”

Wait, what?  Zyn was too tired for this.  With a little groan, she reached up and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to banish sleep.  Luckily the idiot moved out of her way as she swung her legs off the bed, heaving herself up to sit.  

Raking back her hair with both hands, she inhaled sharply through her nose and stood up, feet instinctively avoiding the splintered bit of wood just at the edge of her bed.  The landlord kept claiming he was going to finish the flooring.  She didn’t care; Zyn got a slight discount because it wasn’t and she needed the money.

Ignoring the tall, irritatingly pale eladrin standing over her like she was supposed to solve his problems, she turned away from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Zyn tugged her t-shirt down over her ass.  Avoiding the damaged threshold, she pulled open the creaking bathroom door and headed for the sink.  The eladrin followed.

Turning on the tap, she let the water run for a few seconds before splashing her face, the ice-cold water penetrating both mind and body alike, briskly waking her up.  There.  Now she could be lucid.  The toothbrush she definitely needed to replace was shoved into her mouth, and then she set to picking the dried toothpaste off of the mouth of the tube.  

“I’m having a bit of an urgent situation here, if you don’t mind.”

“Mhmm,” Zyn mumbled absently, squeezing out a thin ribbon of toothpaste and smearing it over her brush.  “I don’t have a spare toothbrush.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

“You should, it’s important to–” she glanced over her shoulder again, un-blurred eyes finally taking him in.  Oh.  That’s why she’d let him into her apartment.

His face was long, a little too aristocratic for her liking, but with a very pretty mouth and devastatingly attractive eyes, despite the colo– wait.  Narrowing hers, Zynatheri peered into the stranger’s scarlet eyes.  Red eyes.  On an eladrin.

“Are you half drow?”

He drew himself up, looking offended.  Still disheveled, though.  “How dare you.”

“Don’t be a bi–” She stopped.  Her eyes flickered down to his burned hand.  Burned.  Red eyes.  He’d been standing behind her when she– 

Zyn turned back around, staring into the spotty, tarnished mirror.

Only her own reflection gazed back, the doorway behind her empty.  Shit.  All right, so she’d invited a vampire into her house.  Fine, fine, that was fine.  But why had he tried to go out in the su–

“So weird question, but those guys that jumped you last night.  Did one of them bite you?”

“What are you– yes, if you must know.”

“Look in the mirror.”

There was silence from behind her for a good few seconds, as the stranger had a Revelation.  Not wanting to waste time, Zyn took the opportunity to wet her toothbrush and start brushing away, waiting for reality to sink in.  Neh.  If he tried to bite her he probably didn’t know how, so a swift kick to the balls should settle things.

Luckily she knew a lot of people who were probably okay with being bit by a vampire spawn, but as far as she knew usually spawns weren’t just…able to escape like this.  Probably better to hand him off to someone and be done with it before the big one came to claim him.  If he really was a spoiled little patriar, his family would probably figure it out.

“Shit,” he said from behind her, voice hushed.

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

Since Durge and Gortash won the Friday poll, I'll pull something out of the other BG3 fic for WiP day. My pace with the new chapter is a little slow, between taking a week off and now dealing with Pain, but hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to focus enough to make some real progress.

From the Astarion x Tav longfic, a little bit of WiP for your amusement. (if you would like to be tagged to do your own in the future, pls let me know)

...

“Well, if you used that sensible mind you keep claiming to have, you’d know that obviously I’m her patron,” Astarion sneered at Shadowheart.  His voice relaxed, going lazy and dismissive once more.  “And muse, naturally.”

Zyn considered drawing a gigantic curly moustache on her sketch of him.  It was rude to interrupt.  “My peerage or lack thereof has not yet been shared– please avoid making assumptions about me.”  No, this wasn’t right.  He looked too…neat and tidy.  She grimaced at her sketch, and then glanced back up at her subject.  “Could I see a little more collarbone on the left side?”

“I’m not giving it away,” Astarion scoffed.

“Darling it’s for aesthetics, not expression of base lechery,” she begged.  “Your neckline is too symmetrical, it doesn’t give me ‘careless dandy’.”

Astarion scowled at her, lifting her stolen goblet as he demanded, “regal!  Make me look regal!”

How dare he not trust her artistic acumen.

“Even if your life depended on you appearing ‘regal’, I doubt I could oblige,” she snapped. "You egregious twink."

Shadowheart laughed faintly.

Astarion gasped, lifting a hand to his chest. His not nearly bared-enough chest.  “How dare you!  I am your patron! I could have you thrown out on the street!”

“Oh please, if there’s one thing upstart would-be nobles need, it’s portrait painters.  There’ll be another dozen of you by teatime.  You can dictate when you pay me, you contrary piss-puddle”  Zyn added shading to his neck, pausing as she glanced up to find his eyes on her.  He didn’t look angry, despite the insult.  He was smiling.  Ugh, that was the wrong expression entirely!  “Tilt your chin to the side!  Again. I told you to stop moving.”

Astarion sighed in annoyance and rolled his head to the left, hair swaying.

“I have no idea what’s going on, and yet I can’t look away,” Shadowheart said.

She settled down abruptly, pausing with one hand on the ground to snag one of Astarion’s pillows.  He made an irritated noise, but didn’t bother retaliating.  Zyn’s briefly riled mood flared up again.  Why could she have a pillow, but Zyn hadn’t been allowed one?

Traitor!

Zyn glared at Astarion until he glanced away from the goblet of wine he was staring into contemplatively. Her nose wrinkled as their eyes met. The pasty reprobate sighed heavily, eyes rolling skyward.

"What now?"

“You’ll not be welcome in my bed any longer if I catch you giving someone preferential treatment over me,” she threatened him.

“You–"  Astarion stared at her in shock, and then laughed, lifting a hand to his mouth. "Aha. Ha!" He dissolved into laughter as he sprawled back onto his pillows, ignoring her scowl.

Zyn slapped her stub of twine-wrapped pencil down on the paper, leaving a crumbled line as the tip snapped. "Stop it."

“Hah! I can’t believe you actually thought that would work!”

“I mean it, this is serious!” she whined as he started laughing over her again, throwing his head back. “You blaggard! That's it. It's moustache time.”