#will it be a story of punishment or of restoration | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lostberet · 2 months

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🕊 ˚✧ 🦢₊˚ʚ LOOK MY WAY

He had noticed the lack of love in the moral world. Conflicted, he traveled to the moral world to figure out the problem in which he was only left with disappointment and no answers. Out of self-punishment, he goes by the name Seokjin and stays in the human world where he produces a perfume company in hopes of restoring love. However, he can't help but notice how his heart beats faster for an employee, and maybe, he can understand why there is a lack of love.

✒ pair. kim seokjin x fem!reader ↪ plot. The god of love, Eros, Cupid to others, has always been part of making humans fall in love, however, the moment his eyes land on you, he's hit by his own arrow of love. tags. greek god x mortal au, non-idol au, modern history au, love at first sight, lovesick Seokjin, angst, sexual tension, semi-smut cw. This story won't contain accurate greek mythology, Jin talks to Aprhodite (his mama in this story), lovesick jin, bow and arrow, Jin gets desperate and almost shoots the reader, kisses, angst, Jin experiences heart-break, sexual tension, semi-smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), mini breeding kink if you squint, , english is not my first lenguage, if i missed anything let me know! wc. 5k a/n. I want to make a part two for this, but I am not sure, please let me know if you guys are interested! also, i was in a bit of a rush :c it's midterm season. I hope you all enjoy, like, comment and reblog! love yous!

|| masterlist || entry || part ii (maybe)?

Eros has seen the world grow. Bloom into the most curious society. What was once a life with no buildings that touched the sky, or with cement roads, Eros had grown to adapt.

The adaptation wasn't any of his concern, no, his worries and strengths lay in the relationship and love of the morals, which, throughout time has grown bitter. His concern didn't lie in the many lights the cities populated, or the noises the cars and bars created, but in the fact that no one believed in true love.

Unsatisfied, Eros brought himself into the mortal realm, wanting to explore, to study, to understand and hopefully, redeem love. Yet, each time, he was left disappointed. There would be cases in which he was able to use his bow and arrow, creating a wonderful match. And there would be times where those relationships failed, why? He didn’t understand, was he failing as the god of love? Was cupid not important anymore? As self punishment, he decided to stay in the mortal realm in hopes of redeeming himself.

He went by the name Seokjin, unable to use his given name. With his godly powers and influence, in the mortal realm, he lives a life of luxury, just like back in his immortal realm. His beauty was outstanding thanks to his mothers genes, the humans loved him. And during his time in the mortal realm, Madan flourished, a Perfume company. One in which he believed would bring love, humans loved the scent of perfume, right?

And that’s where the gods had brought you. In front of a bridge building whose architecture resabled the building in ancient greece. The summer sun warmed your golden skin, the fresh wind blew your dark hair, as if nature was welcoming you into your home. Each step you took into the building caused your gut to yell, telling you, warning you, yet just like every warning, you brushed it away.

You weren’t a model, you weren’t an influencer, heck, you weren’t a fashion icon. But the woman whose eyes landed on you sure were. It causes you to feel smaller, uglier. Could it have been their fair skin, their shiny hair or their style? You didn’t know, but you knew your appearance wasn’t welcomed.

The moment you took the elevator to the 5th floor where your Marketing office would be at, your breath was knocked south out of you. You choked back a gasp, it smelled good. Too good. You felt a headache rising to your temples and dizziness. You wanted to take a deep breath, but it was impossible with the amount of goodness scent.

“Are you alright?” the voice of the god spoke, you opened your eyes and tilted your head up. Glazing into some beautiful brown eyes, so beautiful, yet so sad, ‘Yes, just.. Headache.” You muttered, your eyes leaving him, “which floor?” You cleared your throat, “5.”

Jin never intended to lose control. No, he never wanted to. But he was losing his sanity, his will, and most importantly, himself. He never liked the idea of forced love, or love magic or anything that had to do with poisons. But his fingers would tingle at the idea that maybe, that was the solution.

He stayed all day in his elegant office, high off the many scents; chocolate, vanilla, roses, cinnamon, anything that could bring the sense of desire. During his time on the mortal realm, he noticed the human’s like of smell, bringing an idea that if he produced the right scent, it could make one fall in love. It wasn’t exactly a love potion, no. Not at all, in fact, he wanted to resolve this without his bow and arrow, without his gift, because maybe it was time not to force love?

The meeting room was dark compared to the rest of the company building, it made you feel as if you were taking part in some evil plan when in fact you were meeting the CEO and discussing Marketing aspects with the team. Yet, your gut kept telling you that it wasn’t right.

You turned your tablet on and started taking notes, drawing small doodles of the illustrations and predictions for the Spring edition collection, “No, I want something to last.” Your ears perked up as you turned your head to the chairman. Everyone in the room is doing the same. He rubbed his forehead with two of his fingers, “I don’t want to repeat fragrances, I want it to last.”

The presenter licked their lips and uncomfortably shifted from where they stood, “Oh well.. I..” They stuttered, their eyes dancing around the many faces in the room, “We.. We can try oils instead of perfumes?” You muttered out, unsure.

The chairman’s eyes landed on you, causing you to flinch. You pressed your lips into a thin line and cursed yourself as you noticed his expression change, “or maybe not..” you whispered. “What’s your name?” you lost your job. Is what would have happened if Jin didn’t appreciate your idea.

“y/n, y/n l/n. I’m new in the Marketing team.” You introduced yourself. Jin only stared at you, letting out a breathy chuckle, “Welcome to the team, y/n. I would like to hear more about those oils.” You thanked the gods above for sending Jin as your boss.

You didn't know if Jin made your life easier or harder. On one hand, he knows what he wants, he has a goal. On the other hand, he doesn't know what he wants, or, in other words, how to deliver that goal. You've been working carefully with Jin and the fragrance team to come up with a new scent. One that lasts like Jin wanted.

"No, I want the smell to attract, to.. I don't know.." Jin threw his hands up in defeat before dropping them back down, slapping the sides of his leg, "attract desire on people."

"So.. lust?" You question as you took notes on your tablet. Three months. Three freaking months is what took you to be Jin's right hand in this project. Three fucking months to be his assistant. Jin's neck snaped towards you and you were sure you heard it crack.

"I don't do lust," Jin hissed, "I do love, passion." He sighed. You nodded at his words, tapping your apple pen on your tablet, "But.. these notes.. they point to lust.."

"What.." Jin breathed, feeling too tired, too stressed. "How can anyone think about falling in love, when they're so tempted by lust?" you asked, taking a breath before continuing, "Love isn't something that can be forced or attracted by a simple trait. There's supposed to be chemistry.. affection? not desire.. or want, but longing." You explained.

Jin let out a breathy laugh. His hands resting on his hips as he turned around. His laughed turned into a sarcastic one, sending you into freeze mode. He looked desperate, mad even, “I can’t keep falling.” he uttered out, his head hanging low, “you’re not failing, sir..” Jin only laughed, shaking his head. “You’re only saying that because I am your boss.”

You shook your head, setting your coat and tablet down, “No, I mean it. You’re so talented and splendid, you have a gift, sir.” Jin almost snored at your comment. He had a gift alright, but even with his gift, he was a failure. Or maybe his gift had run out. “No, I have no gift.”

You frowned, “I have no fucking gift. If I did, I wouldn’t be stuck here. I wouldn’t be working on perfumes that help people recognize love and desire, I wouldn’t be standing here, being explained what love is, when it's supposed to be my thing.. I would be back home.. I'm a joke.”

You pitied the man in front of you. He must have had a rough life, you believed. One in which he had to live up to accomplishments, to success. Just like you felt at times. You sighed, “If it’s alright..” you took a step closer to the man, his gaze lifting from the floor to your eyes, “can I give you a hug?”

“A hug?” puzzled, Jin frowned. You nodded, getting closer and softly wrapping your arms around him. He tensed at your touch, he was never touched this way before, or touched at all, in fact. “It’s okay, Jin.” You whispered softly. Your voice comes to him in comfort, “Success takes time, no one is perfect.” But he’s supposed to. Jin softly gave into the embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his head on your shoulder.

Jin never intended to lose himself, but he was going insane. Among all scents and perfumes he's worked on, none of them matched with yours. Because as he hugged you, his arms tightening around your waist, nose digging into the crook of your neck, he felt his heart flutter. You didn’t only smell like coconut with a mixture of vanilla, you didn’t only smell like cinnamon and caramel, you didn’t only smell like fresh laundry and lavender, but you smelt of comfort and hope.

Your embrace loosed the moment you felt Jin tremble on top of you. The smile you had on your face completely gone as you tried pulling away from him. His arms held you in place, pulling you back into the hug as he let out a sniff, his voice weak and heavy, “Let’s stay like this.. Just for a little.” And you accepted it.

You found Jin to be a very interesting person. He had strange tastes, or just simply didn't care. If anything, he didn't have any boundaries. He acted like he ruled the world, and honestly, if you had that amount of money, you would too.

Jin had smoothly and noticeably made it a habit to take you to his home, his house to practice give him some therapy. Oddly, enough, it didn't feel like therapy sessions.

"Maybe, I ain't cut up for this.." Jin muttered, his fingers resting on his lip. It's been around two months since that intimate hug, and ever since then, Jin had gotten.. well, he clung onto you.

You hesitantly reached, placing your hand on his back before rubbing it softly. It'll become sort of like a habit for you to comfort him. You didn't mind. You wanted to help. He lifted his head, looking at you, "you're more capable than you think, Jin."

You smiled softly, causing Jin's heart to flatter once more. What did you have to cause his heart to beat like crazy? Taking a breath which got caught, he scanned your features, falling into a spell, "..y/n."

You couldn't understand the strange tension in Jin's eyes whenever you were too close to him, touching him even. Words of comfort always caused Jin to look at you with such intimacy. Something you never got to experience in other relationships. Jin brought his body closer, nose almost touching before you realized, waking up from an enchantment.

"I..uh.. sorry, I'll head out.." you stuttered out, making your way towards the door. Each step you took made Jin's heart pound louder in his ears. How was he to tell you that he liked you? He liked you perhaps a little too much.

Jin followed behind, his thought train speeding through his mind. Without hesitation, He extended his arm, recreating holding his bow and that's when he felt it. Love can't be forced.

His heart dropped as he shook his head, running to you, "I'm sorry, y/n.. please.." You said softly but loud enough for you to hear.

Jin held your wrist, stopping you from taking a step. You turned towards him, avoiding eye contact, “Y/n..” his voice came out as a faint whisper, as if he was trying to reach for you. Your eyes betrayed you, slowly lifting their gaze to meet Jin’s and you silently cursed whoever made the man in front of you. His eyes enchanted you, hypnotized you even. His soft plump lips tilted into a small smile, leaning his face closer to you and your eyes took a quick glance at his lips before lifting them up to meet his eyes.

His fingers lightly held your chin, making sure to keep your head in place, not wanting you to leave his gaze, “Stay with me..” the words left his mouth, putting you into a spell in which you couldn’t escape, “please?”

You swallowed, but you nodded. Jin only let out a small breath as he grinded, his other hand coming to hold and wrap around your waist before he leaned closer. Both your nose brushed against each other, and of course you let out a faint whine. Jin’s thumb brushed your bottom lip, causing a small shiver to run down your spine at the warmth, “you’re so.. Enchanting..”

Your eyes looked down at his lips and as if answering your silent question he pressed his lips against yours. Both your lips chasing after each other in a deeper kiss. Your arms flew to wrap around his neck, locking him into the kiss in which he didn’t complain. His touches were ghostly against your skin, afraid to touch you as if you would melt away. Your touches were clingy and desperate, wanting him to touch and melt you away.

That night you experienced so much emotion through physical contact, emotion in which you never imagined ever to experience in this lifetime. His hands were gentle as he held your wrist, his thumb brushing against your wrist as he thrust his hips against yours. His other holding the back of your neck as he stared at your face, taking in every expression as he rolled his hips into you.

You would let out a whiney sob as you opened your eyes, a glass filled vision as tears built up from the pure pleasure Jin was giving you, your jaw widening as you let out a silent moan. Jin let out a soft grunt as he felt you tighten yourself around his cock, sending his eye to twitch out in pleasure as he leaned onto your neck. Brushing his lips against your pulse point before he kissed and sucked marks onto your skin.

Your hands ran down his back, nails digging into his skin the moment you felt your sixth orgasm of the night build up, “Jin..” you cried out in which he responded with a soft hush, “I know, darling..”

It’d become odd. The relationship between you and Jin, ever since that night. It had seemed that both of you were nothing during the day, but the moment everyone left the office leaving both your souls, you’ve become different people.

He would crack jokes, take you out for dinner, drop you at home. He would never ask for a kiss, nor a hickey, all he asked for was for your time. And it terrified you. It must have been 7 months since the night you slept together and Jin had not treated you any different, but your mind would shift towards the worst.

Maybe you were horrible in bed, were you too loud? You felt something crawl up your leg, it felt like the legs of a spider. Perhaps you were too ugly? It didn’t take long for the overwhelming feeling of insecurity to crawl over your whole body.

That night as you sat in the chair in the middle of the island in Jin’s kitchen, you fought the urge to ask him. His back faced towards you as he cooked up pasta. He always did this, at least every Friday. Take you to his home where he would cook for you, make you laugh, make you feel special and then sleep tangled in his arms. It scared you.

“Was I bad?” you asked, setting the fork down as you’ve lost your appetite, Jin only looked up from his plate as he slurped a noodle, frowning. “I mean..” Jin then set his fork down, wanting to have his full attention on you, “when we slept together, was I bad?”

He tilted his head, unsure of how to answer your question. You felt nervous under his gaze, “No, not at all?” He questioned, unsure where you were getting at, “Then why haven’t we done it?” Your voice came out as a whisper, Jin then swallowed as he blinked, “Because I didn’t think you'd want it.”

The kitchen fell silent. Jin continued, “I want you.” he paused, straightening his back as he chased your eyes to lock with them, “all the fucking time.” It was your turn to be left speechless, “I want to take you everywhere every time, but I know it’s not right, not without your permission.” The table fell silent again, and as both of you ate once more, you debated with yourself.

After washing the dishes, Jin brought you to the living room in which he turned the TV, “I find it so fascinating how humans can come up with these things. So creative.” You let out a chuckle as you sat on the couch, you back sinking into the comfort of the pillows. Selecting a streaming app, Jin also leaned back, laying next to you as an arm rested above your shoulders. “I’m serious, you guys are interesting.”

You only leaned onto his shoulder as he selected the Movie he mentioned a moment ago while washing the dishes, “Percy Jackson is.. Hm..” Jin hummed, thinking back to his life as a god. Your eyes looked up at his pouting face, “I think it’s cute.”

You hummed as you reached over for the blanket, covering your body. “Cute?” Jin frowned as looked down at you, “I meant as in, the gods having kids. I don’t know anything about all that Greek God bullshit, but them having kids seems like a cool concept.” You explained yourself as your eyes settled at the screen before you.

Jin’s thoughts shut off, staring at the wall next to the TV trying to progress what you mentioned. His eyes squinted a bit, imagining a world in which he potentially had a child, is that even possible?

“If you were a god, let’s say,” you asked, snapping Jin out of his thoughts, “and you had a child, would you let them go through all that just to accept them?” You asked, your brows frowned as you looked at the screen. Jin took a deep breath, “No.”

“Me neither. You have children out of love, not to keep the bloodline going.” You muttered, cuddling the blanket closer to you, "If i were to be a mom one day, I would never let my child think they had to live up to my expectations to receive my love."

Jin blinked. love. what really did it mean, what came with it. He rubbed his fingertips together, feeling the softness of his own skin before he sat up, looking at you. "Can we sleep together?"

You rubbed your eyes, already feeling tired, "what?" Jin leaned down towards you, "Can I kiss you?" Your eyes widened a bit, but nothertheless, you nodded.

You regretted it instantly. Your wrists were pinned behind your lower back and your face lay on the couch as Jin pounded you from behind. Small grunts and moans filled the living room, some being washed away by the sound of the TV. You twitched under him, feeling the tight knot in your stomach, "fuck Jin.."

You gasped out, kicking your feet a bit. Jin only tilted his head back, feeling his cock twitch as he slipped in and out of you, furiously slamming into you from behind, "you're so good to me, y/n.." he moaned.

His hand gripped the fat on your hip, bringing you back to him as he fucked into you, "so pretty.." he muttered, his head coming back to look at the way your cunt took his dick. "gonna fill you up so good, so full.." his head was thrown back, and soft moans left his mouth. His breath hitched when a load of his milky white cum shot out, causing you to gasp out as you soon felt your own orgasm clasp.

Jin kept thrusting, slow and gentle, making sure to keep his load in you. He knew that what he wanted was very slim, but the thought lingered, "I promise to take you everywhere.. I'mma make you feel loved and satisfied."

Jin kept his word and he did take you whenever he could. Whether that was bending you over his office table or having you ride him in his car in the company's parking lot. It worried you how much time and stigma the man had. He was out of this world.

"I don't just have sex, y/n." He laughed. Settling into his bed, your body already too tired as you closed your eyes, "I make love." He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. You wanted to protest, to argue with him. we're not in love, is what you wanted to tell him. But maybe it was a conversation of another day.

You were terrified. Nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to experience. You rubbed your temple as you walked into Jin's office floor, throat dry. You were confused, drowned in complex emotions.

It was about 8 pm, and everyone on the floor had gone home, or so you thought. Opening the door to Jin's office, the smell of what was once so pleasant to your nose caused you to cringe in disgust. This was no pleasant scent, but it was a familiar one.

The smell of sex reeked your nose as you quickly covered it, your eyes frowned as you noticed Jin in the middle of the office. His hair was a mess, clothes sticking to his body by sweat. You only scanned the room, no one was there. But nothing hid the fact of what had happened in that office.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, closing the door. You stared at your feet for a second trying to progress what had happened. Door handle still in hand, you tighened your grip before making your mind up. And the moment you let go, the door opened with Jin trying to reach for you.

"Y/n, it's not what you think." He started, following after you, "I don't care, Jin." you spat, "I mean it, y/n. I.." He huffed out, wanting to hold you from taking another step from him, "I love you." That's where you felt your heart drop.

“No, Jin, you’re confusing love and lust, please!” You pant out, your hands trembling as you hold your coat close to you. You felt tears build up in the corner of your eyes. You were hurt, tired, and scared. You reached the elevator, pressing the button. “You don’t love me, Jin.”

The elevator was going to take a while, you knew that. You took a deep breath in, trying to calm your trembling voice, not wanting to show how much of an effect he had on you, “You need me, yes, but you don’t need me.” Jin licked his lips, noticing how dry they’ve become. He was puzzled, confused. He, Eros, the god of love doesn’t know what love is?

“That is.. No.. That..” he breathed, the elevator dinged, opening its doors as it gave you an escape. Jin closed his eyes as he shook his head. His heartbeat was close to his lungs, his body felt on edge, and he felt panic. “Y/n.” He held onto the elevator door, his grip tight as his knees felt weak, “I need you.. So much..”

His eyes cried out in desperation as he scanned for any sign of understanding, of longing. You stared at him, you felt your nose become stuffy, ready to cry. His cheeks had turned flustered and his eyes had watered, he looked like a mess, a gorgeous one, “There isn’t one day that my heart doesn’t ache for you. There isn’t one second where I want to be near you, please y/n..”

He wanted to kneel in front of you, begging for you. Years and years of being worshiped, he never thought of a day in which he would worship anyone. But you arrived and changed everything, “words cannot describe how I crave for you, y/n.”

A single tear escaped your eyes, slowly rolling down your cheek as you stared at Jin, and before you knew it, you couldn’t hold the rest of them back. You let out a silent sob as you pushed Jin’s hand off the elevator door, pressing the closing button, “I’ll send in my resignation and you better accept it.”

The moment the doors closed, Jin felt his whole world collapse. Maybe he did too, maybe he too fell to the ground and sobbed, letting out painful cries as he held his chest. His hand clenched his heart as he let his tears flee. His lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen, too mournful to let any of it in. The lack of oxygen didn’t hurt as much as his heart cried for you.

The next couple of weeks felt like a visit to the underworld where Hades lived. So cold, so dark, so lonely. And out of respect, he stayed away from you. And out of love, he accepted your resignation. Yet the moment he signed the paper, he felt like you had taken a piece of his heart with you, while he was only left with the brief memory of you, not worthy of any piece of you.

His days had turned gloomy, his attitude had become pissy, and his heart still throbbed with pain. He had taken a break from the company. What was once his mission to restore love had been thrown out the window. Now he understood why morals were too scared to fall in love.

SeokJin looked up at the bright night sky, his eyes staring at the sea of stars, but none looked as beautiful as you. No, he wasn’t ashamed to mention it, you could be just as beautiful as his mother. Were she to meet you, she would for sure assume you were one of her children. His throat spat a sob, his eyes sore from crying. Was this what it felt to love someone? The back of his hand covered his mouth, not wanting to make another sound as another tear rolled down his face. Why did loving someone hurt so much?

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t cut out to be the god of love. He didn’t know anything about love. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he let out a dry sob, “Mom, what am I doing?” he asked basically no one, “What am I made for if it’s not love?” and deep down his heart broke just a little more.

A/N. love is like a fart, if it's forced, it's probably shit.

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #kim seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin x you #mafia bts #yandere kim seokjin #kim seokjin fic #kim seokjin x reader #bts army #x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts seokjin #bts smut

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fullofbees · 5 months

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My God's Bane (Astarion x F!Tav)

Tav no longer recognizes herself while Astarion finally comes to terms with his feelings towards her.

AKA I wrote my own leadup to Astarion's confession scene :3

CW: LOTS of angst, religious conflict/crisis, mentions of past physical, emotional, and sexual abuse (Astarion), mild depictions of gore Word Count: 9,437

He liked to think that he had a talent for reading people at this point. Most wear their emotions clearer than they believe. Even when they hide behind a quiet, joyful, or indifferent mask, everyone slips, shows their hand so to speak, and that’s when he strikes.

However, when it came to the leader of their ragtag band of weirdos, she was easy. She slipped the moment they met, when he cornered her about killing one of those brain creatures outside the nautiloid crash. She all but ran to his supposed rescue, not thinking twice that the man before her could pose harm. It was as simple as breathing back then, to betray that small boundary of trust when he held his blade to her throat.

Her heart was on her sleeve, and she extended it to every wayward soul they encountered. With remarkable speed, she was able to secure new adventurers for their mission. She made vows to the tieflings and druids alike, intent on restoring order despite the limited time they had. Whether foe or ally, she sought the safety of all involved – such is the way of a valiant paladin. It was an inconvenience, honestly.

Ever since they arrived at the Shadowlands, though, Tav’s personality changed.

Their first day in the darkness brought them to battle between the Harpers and their arachnoid escort. The towering bastard had to go and cast Sanctuary constantly, leaving the rest to pick off the weaker cultists until they could find an opening past his defense.

Tav had swung the final blows, her blade illuminated in a holy light that was nearly blinding against the shadows. The drider fell, and joined his fellow Absolutists as bloody road markers.

She was an excitable kind of person, cheering and hollering with the smallest of victories, giddy with triumph whenever her enemies fell. Add Karlach into the mix, and Astarion was positive that sleep would evade the camp that night, the two warriors whooping into the night, drunk off wine and adrenaline.

But, as she had stood over the vanquished drider, Tav was silent. He could not make out the emotion that crossed her face; reverence – or perhaps mourning, as he watched Tav kneel to close each eye the spider possessed.

Astarion knew he was the only one to witness it. The others were engaged in conversation as the Harpers so graciously invited them to their little hideout, in the form of an abandoned inn. When Tav stood from the ground and turned, she froze upon seeing him standing there, eyes wide with panic as she fumbled for words to say.

All she managed was a desperate, “Please don’t tell the others.”

He didn’t understand why, at the time, he had allowed her to place such trust in him.

The same night, when everyone was gathered around the campfire, joking and sharing stories over whatever meal Gale managed to throw together, she stared into the flames until one of their companions pulled her mind back to the present.

“An actual drider,” marvels Wyll, “It would have been magnificent if it weren’t so grotesque. Wouldn’t you agree, Tav?”

“Hmm?” She hummed, eyes transfixed on the bowl in her hands.

“The drider,” Wyll tried again, almost in disbelief that she had not heard him the first time, “What did you make of it?”

Her spoon circled the bowl for the umpteenth time, the sound immensely grating to Astarion’s sensitive hearing.

“Him,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry?” Wyll asked.

“What did I make of him? He’s a person, not an ‘it’,” she corrected with a huff of offense. “That poor man...”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to pity the creature,” admonished Shadowheart, “It is only fitting that one be punished for failing their Goddess. Really, we were doing it a favor.”

There’s an unwon arrogance that Shadowheart tends to mince her words with. Usually, he would find her quips amusing, but he wished she would have read the obvious tension.

“He’s not a creature!” Tav slammed the bowl into the dirt in front of her. The metallic clang of the spoon against ceramic rang out into the stunned silence of those around the fire.

“He was hurting! Desperate to be seen after Lolth’s rejection... and all it got him was a tadpole from another cruel Goddess!” Tav’s hands clenched into fists, brow furrowed as her eyes focused once again on the flames, “He didn’t deserve to die. I could have-- I mean, we could have done more!”

“I do not understand,” said Lae’zel, “Why do you show such sympathies for the weak?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” chimes in Karlach, and though Astarion assumed she would start on another lecture about friendship and unity, Tav did not let her finish.

“I’m afraid I lost my appetite. Good night,” she said, her meal abandoned as she stomped off to her tent.

Karlach sighed, shaking her head at Lae’zel. The githyanki had not moved, still perplexed by the situation around her. An uneasy quietness quickly descended upon the group, broken only by Wyll bidding them goodnight. A chorus of muttered ‘goodnights’ followed as they began to disperse.

Considering it an outburst of exhaustion, Astarion left Tav to stew in her tent. He wished he hadn’t, for she was no better the next day.

It was normal for her to seek their thoughts while exploring. She’d ask Karlach or Lae’zel for tips after combat, banter with Gale and Wyll, show Shadowheart every damn “pretty” flower she found, and insisted on directing as many vampire jokes as she could at Astarion. It didn’t matter how dreadfully unfunny they were, she always laughed.

Adventuring was quiet now, as she ushered them from place to place, battle to battle, without a break. They found various victims of the curse, most a century old, but some new and with unfortunately familiar faces. It did not matter how long the bodies had been there, Tav grieved each one, tears streaming from her face as she read letters of their last words. While she bawled at their corpses, Astarion brooded, wondering when he had started to miss her laughter.

She was praying more often as well, sequestering herself alone in whatever corner she could find and frantically whispering. Once, when she ceased her incessant prayer, Tav appeared to be locked in some kind of trance. She did not react to sound or touch, the whole of her eyes overtaken by a ghostly, lavender hue. She stayed that way for two hours.

Everyone saw the tears that streamed from her eyes when her mind had returned from its journey, but she refused to answer their questions.

Karlach approached him one night, nearly a tenday after Tav’s original outburst, telling him he needed to figure out what was wrong. He had scoffed at the tiefling; after all, it’s not like he cared about whatever mental issues shared rent with her tadpole. Right?

“She likes you the most, fangs. If there’s anyone she’s willing to open up to, I'm bettin’ it’s you.”

He laughed then, loud and boisterous, to hide the rising tide of excitement and anxiety that Karlach’s words had caused.

“Trying to use me to pry into Tav’s life, are we?” He tsk-ed. Though he smiled, his anxiety had given way to anger. It poked and taunted his deepest fear; that he’s only useful when he can be used. It’s so painfully obvious that’s all he’d ever be, that even sweet Karlach knew it.

But something besides the tadpole lurked around in his mind; why does he feel bad about tricking Tav? That is his whole plan, is it not? Use the strong sword-wielding lady to safely travel back to Baldur’s Gate, she dices this stupid cult and Cazador into pieces, and then he dumps her, finally free from any master’s grip.

He banished the intruding thought instantly, bottled it as deep as it could go, for the looming answer to his question threatened to make him sick. He is undead, a creature of the night, an external parasite that feeds on Tav at night until he can find someone, something, better. His skin is cold as ice and his heart no longer beats. He has no heart to give; or so he tells himself.

“You know that’s not the case,” Karlach had chastised, seemingly offended he could suggest such a thing, “We’re all worried. You can pretend all you want, but I know you are too. You can help her, Astarion.”

Now that was a curious sentiment. ‘Help’ is numerous in its contexts; Cazador certainly considered himself helpful, merciful even, as he watched his new spawn vomit blood and dirt after clawing out of their tombs. The word implies a give and take, and the world is far more eager to collect than it is to provide.

To put it plainly, he had nothing to offer their melancholic leader; he is nothing and has been for a long time. Still, Karlach had come to him, apparently unaware of his obvious lack. Perhaps he should hear her out. Perhaps she saw something in him.

“And just how should I ‘help’?” Astarion asked, condescendingly drawling the question out, rolling his eyes for good measure.

He saw how the edge of Karlach’s lips twitched, how her eyes narrowed, the way her mechanical heart roared to life with a bright spark before settling back into quiet embers. In poetic irony, it seems that he burned her.

“Hells below, Astarion,” she nearly yelled, exasperated, tired, and practically begging him to cooperate. He doesn’t blame her for the outburst. Without the annoyingly bubbly attitude of Tav, the tension between party members had been amplified and pulled taut. They all may very well snap soon.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he dismissed her then, attention focused back on the tome he had in his hands. But his mind did not process the words on the page. He reread the same line damn near ten times before he gave up and went to bed instead.

His rest was anything but; it was fitful and full of sorrow.

It was times like then when he wished he could slumber like every other living creature. When his victims and fellow spawn would speak of nightmares, they told tales of distorted visions and intense fear. His waking hours were already plagued with such issues, he could easily handle the nightmares. But no, instead he was cursed to revel in his own pain during his meditative rest, reliving and experiencing his own terrifying truths on repeat.

That night, he tried searching for something he could do for Tav. Something that the others could not; something to prove his value to her. He did find it. It didn’t take him long at all.

All he had to offer his little troublesome Tav was his body.

And it broke him.

He spent that night with the realization that this is who he is and always will be. A body to be used and used and used and used and used and used and used and u s e d.......

Thankfully, Tav had asked him to stay at camp that morning. Even though he teased her with his usual, “Darling, I thought we had something special,” she could barely manage a smile, and muttered her thanks before flittering about camp in preparation.

It was probably for the best, knowing how useless he would have been with that morose epiphany swimming in his mind. Though awake, the uneasy feeling from the night did not dissipate. His emotions were all over the place, that much he was sure of, but they had always been identifiable. Agony, desperation, emptiness.

Now new and uncertain feelings – gods how he detested the word – seized his chest. Images of Tav pestered him the entire day; the bags under her eyes, the unkempt hair, the dying light of her spirit. Karlach was right, he was worried.

Still, he could not find the source of his worry. He’d spent the last 200 years surrounded by shambling corpses and their victims alike. They slept like dogs, were beaten like beasts, so really, who was he to judge for a bad hair day?

Astarion saw no use driving himself mad about it, after all, he had always warned her that her heroism couldn’t last forever. He spent that day doing what he does best when he finds himself without her company, distracting himself with enough shit wine and even shittier books. He didn’t think his tolerance would be shit too.

Words had soon blurred together, and despite the book’s distinct lack of arcane knowledge, the letters seemed to arrange themselves in puzzles. He slammed the tome shut, opting to sit in the privacy of his tent and will away his growing headache. While his thoughts were no less jumbled, the feelings from before were becoming clearer.

Worry; The presence of the undead made it impossible for him to feed on anyone other than Tav. Even though she always assured him that she did not mind, he felt like he was using her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt bad about being such a devious bastard.

Rejection; He’d never tell, but the absence of Tav returning his superficial flirtations left him feeling empty. He tries to tell himself that it isn’t him, it isn’t his fault, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less to not have her affection.

Fear; He would give his body to her, if it would make her happy. Thousands before her had found pleasure in him, it would be easy for him to allow her the same. He wanted to believe that he’d be selfless, place her needs and comfort above his own; but he knew he could not. He is selfish. Could she want a selfish man?

It dawned on him then, what this cocktail of vulnerability and yearning was. The cause of his worry, the source of his comfort, the reason he felt like an idiot. He lov-

The party had arrived back at camp, and he had stumbled to his feet to meet them, for how would it look if their charming vampire companion was found sulking and brooding in his tent. Karlach immediately shed her armor, talking about how stuffy it felt to be metal-clad. Gale carried a sack with the night’s dinner ingredients in hand and grumbled about the pain in his knees as he knelt to light the fire. Lae’zel, despite her stoicism, appeared happy, covered head to toe in the blood of the fallen.

Tav looked no worse than she had for these last few days, and that ought to count for something. He watched as she removed the outer pieces of her armor, wincing when the harsh edges dug into new and old bruises alike. She picked up a rag and a small mirror, wiping away the blood from the cuts on her face.

The sight of the crimson spilling from her skin reminded him of his hunger. Their quid pro quo arrangement had been forgotten in her despair, and he was desperate at this point for anything she would give him. Blood, sex, shallow praise, whatever she had to offer.

Oh, right.

He had yet to offer himself again, so what reason would she have to keep up her end of the deal?

He downs the last of the wine in his goblet, swallowing the intoxicating substance just as the reality of his situation swallows his hope. With measured steps, he approached her tent, taking quiet yet deep breaths to ease the misery he felt knowing he’ll never be more than this. He opened his mouth to call her name, but Tav released the ties holding back the rainfly of her tent and shut them all out.

That should have been it, but his drunken mind reminded him of his promise to Karlach, and his predatorial hunger lurched at the idea of another night unsatiated.

Once the others were asleep, Astarion snuck into her tent, part and parcel to their routine since she first discovered his true nature. It was easier for him when she was asleep, not that the sharp pinch of his fangs left her totally undisturbed; but to approach while she was awake only guaranteed in his mind that he would end up on his back again.

Tav was facing away from him, lying on her side, a formerly white linen sheet covered her sleeping form. Nothing was amiss as he had stalked closer, brushing the strands of hair away from her neck, his mouth unbelievably dry. He knelt, the perfume of her blood wafting sweetly from beneath her skin, as he placed his hand on her shoulder to steady himself.

She awoke then, the force of her sitting so abruptly pushed him back and sent him stumbling. He had, thankfully, caught himself with his hand before falling into the dirt. Still, he was equal parts annoyed at dinner being interrupted and worried that he was caught.

“Hells, Astarion, you scared the shit out of me,” she whispered.

“And you almost broke my nose,” he chastised; not a total lie, but an exaggerated one, nonetheless.

Tav rolled her eyes at him before letting herself fall back against her bedroll again, “Oh, you poor thing, want me to kiss it better?”

At least she appeared to be feeling better, back to the self that loved teasing him.

“If you’re offering, who am I to say no to the hand that feeds?”

Upon realizing that he would not be allowed to dine and dash, Astarion straddled her thighs, ready to bargain for what he needed. He let his hand rest on her hip, soothing circles through the fabric of her nightwear.

“Yea, s’pose you can’t say you won’t bite,” she said through a drowsy laugh.

He allowed his hand to wander then, down the inside of her thigh, fingers trailing along the seam of her pants, “As if the lady would protest my bites.”

With a kiss pressed to her lips, Astarion silenced any innuendo or proposition she may have made. He did not want to hear it, could not stand the idea of her confirming all the horrid things he thought about himself.

This unspoken deal only served to remind him of how temporary freedom would be. At worst, he would return to Cazador, and the bastard would tell him how lucky he should feel, how there were other mortals dying to be in his position. He wished he could tell him that adding an ‘s’ before ‘pawn’ doesn’t make being a puppet any more lucrative.

She promised that she would not let that happen. She promised to free him from his master’s chains, but what comes after? He would still be bound to the night, doomed to prowl moonlit streets for an eternity. Killing would still be his status quo, whether mammal or mortal, in order to satiate his hunger.

Would she stay with such a monster?

Thoughts he did not want to entertain had barged to the forefront of his mind again, and he knew he needed to move this along. At least with sex, he could force those thoughts away, bottle them back up, and allow his body to numb. At least, this way, he survived another day. At least her body is warm.

At least—anything he can say to himself to justify another night on his back and to ignore the resentment building in his heart.

Her lips had parted in a moan, and his tongue quickly lay claim to her mouth, as his hand finally cupped her sex. She gasped, and as his mind had started to drift off into the numb void, he had been pulled back by the feeling of her hand pushing against his chest.

When he separated himself from her body, Astarion wanted to scream, wanted to shake her; why did she insist on taking the lead? It would be easy with him on top; he wouldn’t have to look at her, to feel her weight on top of him. Must she be so difficult?

“I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

What--

He looked down at her then, saw the flush in her face, felt how her hands fiddled with the ruffled collar of his shirt but harbored no intention to remove the clothing.

“I’m not really in the right headspace for that,” she explained, “Plus, I can taste the wine on your lips...”

“Right, well...” He didn’t know what to say.

Astarion was frozen above her, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Awkwardness had settled over them both, each one terrified of scaring the other off should they move or speak. Until, the dots connect in her head and she practically launched herself upright, almost smacking herself into him again.

“You haven’t fed since we got here, have you? Shit, I’m sorry!” She said as she pulled her hair to the side, exposing the column of her neck.

Any other time, he might have shoved her away, storming out of her tent as his hunger gave way to the embarrassment of it all, his crumbling ego unable to cope. But as she all but dragged his mouth to her skin, urging him to drink, Astarion was thankful that her care outweighed his own pride.

His fangs pierced her flesh, and she hissed at the pain, but did not complain further.

He recalled the conversation they had about what their friends would taste like, debating over who would be sweet and who would be savory. Once he had mused that she would be bland, only if to rile her up, but the depth of her lifeblood had truly surprised him.

She is a winter’s mulled wine, deceptively simple at first yet brimming with spice as she settles on his tongue. Hints of citrus tease his palate, the last taste of summer’s sweetness yielding to the zest of cinnamon and clove. It was gone as soon as it came, leaving its enjoyer to eagerly await the next mouthful.

As he drank from her, he had felt the echo of a memory in his chest, of his younger days scribbling away next to a hearth, of a man who made his heart flutter and his skin burn with want. The man’s face remains obscured, buried under years of torment, but the feeling is there; the rush of something new and exciting; the naivety of first love.

With wild hair and soft eyes that regarded him as if he held the entire world, the elf below him had unearthed a humanity he’d long since forgotten. What a wondrous feeling it was; to release all that had been brimming beneath the surface, to give names to the shadows, to feel again.

Again, her hand pushed against his chest, weaker than before as she mumbles, “O-Okay, I’m starting to get dizzy.”

His fangs retreated from her skin, and as his lips captured any wayward drops, he realized he did not wish to completely part in that moment. Gently, he laid her down against her bedroll, back on her side. He situated himself behind her, basking in the newfound heat that flowed through his veins, and allowed his breath to even out. Tav was already fast asleep when he turned, wrapping his arm around her and cuddled her to his chest.

...

Astarion had made sure to return to his own tent before dawn broke and if Tav had noticed the vampire snuggling her in the night, he was eternally grateful for her silence on it in the morning. He did not want to hear the insufferable taunts and jokes the others would make if the two of them were discovered together. Gale or Wyll, hells, probably even Karlach, would remind him that it’s only natural for two adults to seek out company between their giggles; as if he’s a little boy who's embarrassed about his crush.

But that is what he is, isn’t he? He’s tucking tail and scurrying away because he’s afraid of others seeing that he is capable of feeling. Brazen displays of emotion, especially ones of love, are signs of a weakness to be exploited. Everything he had ever loved had been taken from him, had been hurt because of him. He could love her, he wants to love her, but it would just be placing a target on her back. Another one of Cazador’s endless lessons.

She is safer this way.

For what it’s worth, Tav did appear livelier that morning, bantering with Shadowheart as the cleric healed their bloodless leader, and it earned him a thankful pat on the back from Karlach.

“Ah, I love the taste of Lesser Restoration in the morning,” Tav hummed happily, arms raised above her head as she stretched the sleep out of her body.

“I don’t know why you insist on coming to me,” said Shadowheart, “You’re the one who chose to be a walking blood bank, and I know Paladins can cast Lesser Restoration. Why don’t you heal yourself instead of making it my problem?”

“Because you’re always so charming,” Tav teased, “How do you expect me to resist?”

“Kicking and screaming, I hope,” deadpanned the cleric.

“See what I mean? Our own little ray of sunshine!”

After breakfast, Tav assembled that day’s crew. The idea of a day of physical labor after last night's mental exhaustion made Astarion less than eager to accept her invitation. Still, he had said yes, and donned his armor as he made a quiet vow to himself.

He will always keep her safe in one way or another.

The day’s mission had involved infiltrating the House of Healing to find something that could be used on this Art Cullagh fellow. Astarion had accepted, by this point, to not concern himself with the details and just assist Tav with whatever heroics she found herself agreeing to. They would happen with or without him.

The exterior yielded nothing of value, except one half of a pair of warding rings Tav found on the skeleton of another victim. She was somber as she pocketed the ring and read the lover’s note, but composed herself afterwards, and said a small prayer before pushing forward. He had felt some level of pride and admiration, watching as a new strength kindled inside her. There was inflation to his ego as well, a selfish joy in thinking that his mere cuddles could fix her woes.

He should have known better. Life had never been kind.

They had entered the House of Healing through an antechamber that reeked of decay and spoiled blood. Infirmary beds were strewn about, and of the few that weren’t outright destroyed or flipped over, they looked less than pleasing without a mattress to cover the rusted springs. Rotting towels, shattered wash basins, and an unknown film covered the floors. Voices echoed from the main chamber ahead, so each step further in was made cautiously.

They passed through a door to their right and discovered what used to be a woman as she floated before two of the beds, covered in nurses' attire that clearly didn’t know the definition of sterile. She - no, it - paid them no mind as they had approached, gazing down at the implements and bandages before it as if it couldn’t figure out what to do.

With her hand on the hilt of her sword, Tav spoke first, “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Don’t call the doctor yet!” came the soft plea of the creature, “I’ve got potions, sutures - I know I can do this...” It turned to address their fellow nurse, yet startled when it saw the Paladin, “Oh! You’re a patient. This is the children’s ward – triage is back that way.”

“I have something else I’d like to ask you,” Tav started, but her words faded off as she looked beyond the nurse in front of her.

Two bodies laid still on the beds, clearly dead, though it was hard to tell if it was from the Shadow Curse or the nurse’s ‘treatment’.

In an instant, Tav drew her sword, resting the blade in a tail stance, voice low with anger as she asked, “What are you doing with the dead?”

The nurse regarded her with confusion as she replied, “Not dead, merely medicated. To ease the pain.”

Tav raised her sword, now bracing her weight in a plow stance, the tip of her blade dangerously close to the nurse’s abdomen, as she snarled, “I asked you a question, creature! What are you doing with the dead?”

Astarion had watched Tav face countless foes since their adventure together began. Even with the most wicked, she had never been so blatantly offensive. In hindsight, he realized that all those foes had been alive; fought them she must, but always done so reluctantly, and always ready to spare a life when able. There, in the House of Healing, did he first witness her true devotion as a Doomguide.

Of course, she had told the group of her deity; was overbearingly eager to share it, in fact. Kelemvor; Judge of the Damned; whose symbol featured a skeletal hand raising balanced scales. Tav wears it on her chest – darkened purple stitched into a solid black surcoat that she dons no matter the armor underneath. She told them the stories of her years as a lone wanderer, proselytizing Kelemvor’s wisdom, performing last rites for the dying, and destroying necromancers.

She was a protector of the living, and a slayer of the undead.

The creature did not answer her question, insisting that the patients were sleeping and to be quiet lest they wake. The last words the creature heard were Tav’s whispered, “In Kelemvor’s name,” before the blade was plunged clean through its body. It collapsed to the floor, trying to speak, but the blood pooling in its throat only allowed for senseless gurgling.

Tav placed her foot on the corpse and pushed it into the heap of flesh as she withdrew her blade. Thick, blackened blood congealed on the metal, and Tav held it in a white-knuckled grip as she stepped over the body and towards the beds.

She took one glance and immediately turned around, tripping on the creature's body as she rushed out of the vestibule, landing on her hands and knees, as her sword skidded across the floor. She did not rise, instead sinking to her elbows as her hands pulled at her hair to the point that Astarion thought she might rip it out.

Karlach rushed to her side, trying to ease the Paladin up as hushed sobs echoed off the walls.

“Hey now, soldier,” said the tiefling, taking hold of Tav’s biceps and urging her to sit up, “Don’t go getting soft on me.”

Shadowheart bypassed the two and peered into the beds before gasping, “It’s Arabella’s parents.”

Another choked cry broke out from Tav as she finally sat back on her haunches, rubbing away her tears with a grubby hand, “I fucking hate this place.”

“We all do,” assured Karlach, “But we gotta keep moving forward; don’t want to have worms forever, do we?”

“No,” came Tav’s hushed response before she stood to her feet. She picked up her sword from the floor, flicking some of the blood off, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Malleus Thorm was an abhorrent sight. Deciding to take the lead after Tav’s second outburst, Karlach interrogated the cursed doctor about his peculiar treatment plan. He spoke of Shar, of darkness, of absence. The victim strapped to the table was catatonic from the aimless carving of the nurses’ blades, though he was soon comatose after the doctor’s mechanical claws dug into his eyes.

Tav was antsy behind her, shifting on her feet, practically chomping at the bit to send the undead man back into oblivion. The battle was difficult, but well won. Tav’s anger and adrenaline combined with Divine Smite proved a lethal combo.

Shadowheart pulled a lute from the corpse of Malleus and held it out to Tav, “I think you might want this.”

Tav took the lute, strapped it to her back and made way for the exit. Despite the exhaustion they all felt and the rush of emotions Tav must have experienced, she stayed silent. No cries, no curses, not one tear to be found. Astarion felt that agonizing mix of worry and sorrow creep around him.

He increased his pace until he was able to fall in line with her, their other party members straggling not far behind.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked quietly, still not quite ready for his care to be announced to the world.

She only nodded.

...

If he thought their adventures had been quiet before, they were dead silent now. Every fight with another Thorm family member pushed Tav further into despair. Any attempts by their companions to make her smile or laugh were futile. She walked and fought like a zombie, resulting in her near-death numerous times. Lectures about how she needed to mind herself went in one pointed ear and out the other, apparently.

Her silence was only broken by the fits of sobbing that occurred from her tent each night. If she managed to fall into her meditative state, it would end with her lurching forward, gasping for air as she scrambled off into the corner of camp to empty the contents of her stomach.

Karlach had to take over as temporary leader, and if she had her way, Tav would’ve stayed behind. Yet, when the Paladin appeared every morning with her armor and sword ready, the tiefling couldn’t find the strength to not let her tag along.

Astarion also insisted that he be allowed on each mission, even if his skills weren’t useful for their goal. For whatever reason, Tav listened to him more than the others, and would only accept his help when she found herself injured. He had to be there for her, even if watching her suffer wore away at his own sanity. He often found himself looking at the warding ring she had silently given him after their fight with Malleus, and wondered if he would ever hear her laugh again.

Bones, blood, and viscera decorated the entrance hall. The gore was mundane to him, no more unique than a cobblestone street or tavern lights in the dark. The dank and forebodingness of the crypt did not stop him from admiring its beauty. The ruins must have been a marvelous sight in their heyday, brimming with the Lady of Loss’s worshippers as they sought to drown out their sorrow and begged for her guidance amongst the crystalline decor.

Their group split to investigate the various rooms that surrounded the concourse, with him following behind Tav as she investigated the nook to the right. Through the towering archway, he saw that it was no more than a chamber, perhaps used as foyer for those who came to grieve the Thorm family. More bones were littered across its floor and piled in its corners. He saw nothing novel, yet Tav stopped stock still.

“Myrkul...”, she had hissed with disgust, hands clenched into fists that shook in splintering rage.

Peeking over her shoulder, he saw the triangle of femurs that had been constructed in front of the dilapidated desk, a skull perched neatly in the middle. He joined her at her side, casual when he had faced her and asked carelessly, “Who?”

Truthfully, the name and symbol were of no interest to him; a forgotten name from a bygone era, and most importantly, a deity that had ignored his prayers. She looked up to him then, and the dusty air must have been getting to him, because he swore her gaze softened when their eyes met.

“Myrkul Bey al-Kursi, a necromancer and prince who ascended to godhood when Jergal willingly parted with his title,” Gale interrupted just as Tav was about to speak.

Astarion rolled his eyes at the wizard and resisted the urge to pettily stomp his foot against the floor. His look was not enough to kill, but it did have Gale surrendering, hands up in a wordless apology as he had backed away from the two.

“Correct,” Tav said, breaking the tension she didn’t know had occurred, “He was usurped by Cyric, but the Prince of Lies was defeated by Kelemvor.”

Astarion was desperate to keep her talking. He’d listen to an entire history lecture if it meant she’d come back to sound mind. Back to him. “What use would a servant of Myrkul have with some Sharran shrine?”

“It doesn’t matter what ‘use’ they have for it,” admonished Shadowheart, “Lady Shar has decreed that Ketheric must die for his betrayal, and ridding her temple of other disgraces in the process is as much a bonus as it is an honor.”

Listening to the cleric’s devotion was uninteresting at best, and torturous at worst. He almost pitied the poor girl, blindly following a goddess out of fear of what her memories might hold.

Astarion had expected Tav to mirror Shadowheart’s enthusiasm, but instead saw her bristle, hands wringing together nervously. She was unrecognizable to him, the proud warrior now hunched in on herself as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Anxiety was radiating off her in waves; she looked like she might vomit.

His body had moved before he had realized what he was doing, hand reaching for her shoulder to comfort her. When his cool skin had made contact with her chainmail, she recoiled, eyes wide and breath unsteady. Hurt by her reaction, he let his hand fall limply to his side, and gruffly announced that the party should keep moving.

His patience wore thin as they descended into the abyss below the mausoleum. Gale and Shadowheart both wouldn’t shut up about the various magical auras they were picking up on. Sensing Shar’s presence in the Temple of Shar? Who could have guessed the dark goddess would have been there? Bloody amateurs.

Tav nearly fell in battle again against the Dark Justiciars that were forever cursed to protect the temple. She was unfocused and reckless, and the shadows had swarmed her after making quick work of the necromancer’s lackeys. To make matters worse, there was still no sign of the devil Raphael had tasked them with killing. There were hundreds of rats, though, and the sight of them left a bad taste in his mouth.

With some convincing from both he and Gale, Tav finally acquiesced and agreed to return to camp for the evening. Night had developed a new, uncomfortably familar cycle by then, with Tav disappearing to her tent before anyone could say anything to her. She would eat her dinner alone. He would pretend he didn’t hear her crying throughout the night.

They found Balthazar the next day, and it was the first time he ever saw pure hatred burning behind her eyes. They barely survived, the undead necromancer’s poison draining their strength while his ghouls beat them with decayed teeth and talons. When the bastard finally fell, Tav stood over his corpse, whispered a prayer, and then carved her blade through the fat of his neck. She stabbed her sword repeatedly into his chest, moving down his torso until he was no longer recognizable; just a pile of oozing sinew and flesh. His hulking, sewn-together abomination was the next target of her wrath, and it too was reduced to a pool of guts and blood.

It was not enough.

She destroyed the furniture, set the bookshelves ablaze, tore down everything the necromancer kept in his makeshift laboratory. The rest of the party removed themselves from the room, watching silently from the threshold as their near-death leader found the strength to take all of Balthazar’s worldly possessions with her.

It would have been sexy as hell if it weren’t so concerning.

She eventually collapsed, falling to her knees, sword clattering to the ground with a metallic clang echoing around the room. Silence followed; stares were exchanged between Astarion and his fellow compatriots, each one wordlessly asking the other what the hell had just happened.

Tired of walking on eggshells, of not doing something, Astarion walked over to Tav and kneeled in front of her. She didn’t notice him at first, eyes shut tight and chest heaving with labored breaths. He reached out again, placing his hand on her knee.

She was startled, but didn’t move away like before. Instead, her bloodied hand covered his own, fingers tracing over his knuckles, inadvertently smearing the crimson against his pale skin. When he suggested they retire to camp early, she finally, finally, met his gaze. Glimmering violet swirled in her irises, no doubt the remnants of whatever magic she called on Kelemvor for. It faded away, leaving him with the woman of his adoration, looking broken and lost.

Clinging to his armor, she staggered to her feet, yet nearly toppled again when she went to pick up her sword. It was instinct really, for him to grab her waist and to keep her upright. He certainly had held her hips in more lascivious situations, but somehow he felt more naked that time.

Vulnerable.

He doesn’t think he can keep this a secret any longer.

…

This last tenday has been punishing, and Astarion carries its weight with him as he searches the encampment for his wayward paramour.

He finds her on the staggered rock where they helped Halsin rescue Thaniel, staring out into the darkness. Her posture is relaxed as she leans back on her arms, legs dangling off the edge where the water beats on the stone below.

The silt crunches softly beneath his boots, and he knows she has heard him approach when her ear twitches. He settles himself beside her, brushing off any stray granules from his armor with a huff of disgust. She giggles.

It must look comical, how quickly his head snaps up at the sound, searching her face for signs of madness. After how despondent she’s been, he expects to find a vessel, a hollow being with the residue of what was a soul, begging to be let go.

Instead, he finds her kind smile, as she now swipes away the remaining dirt from his calf, “Not a fan of sand, I take it?”

For all his prose, there is no poetry, no song, no prayer that could mimic the joy he feels when she teases him. He’s been drowning, his mood anchored to hers, and now she has yanked him from the abyss once again. Is this the feeling all those bards crooned about? That every two-bit novelist dreamed of capturing?

He had long given up on such fantasies, convinced himself that the very notion of love made him sick.

Love.

There’s no use pretending anymore. It is love that he feels for Tav. It’s why he mopes at the end of the night if she dares to speak to him last; perhaps the tad murderous feeling he gets when he sees her acting too chummy with the wizard. It’s the comfort of knowing someone has his back, the safety of her sword shielding him from attack, the promises of freedom sleepily whispered between lips in the night. She is the first breath taken when he surfaces. The sun pales in comparison to the warmth in her touch, though she is just as apt to kiss his cheeks.

She is back and gods, how he missed her.

Gods, how he loves her.

“No, I don’t,” he responds in his bantering tone, “It’s rough... irritating... and it gets bloody everywhere.”

She hums in agreement, gaze falling to the ground before returning to the river. Silence befalls them again, and he finds himself clamoring for words. He wants to confess his love, sing her praises, ask her what the hell is wrong with her. Anything to fill the silence, he refuses to live in the saturnine hellscape that has been the last week any longer.

“Astarion,” she beats him to it, “I want to apologize for my behavior these last few days. I put everyone at risk and going forward I’ll be sure to keep everything in check. Can’t have everyone dying because of incompetency.”

A bit too diplomatic for his liking, and her laughter is much too forced. He’ll need to teach her some proper acting; it’s a miracle she’s survived as long as she has with that disaster of a performance. Aren’t paladins supposed to be charismatic, or is it the weapon that does most of the talking?

“Oh, you were in a bad mood? I hardly noticed,” he states with all the indifference he can muster.

She leans into him to playfully jab her elbow into his side, muttering expletives in an elven dialect he hasn’t heard in ages.

“Seriously, I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” he rushes out, hand idly scratching the back of his neck.

The tension returns, though not as overbearing as before, as questions remain unasked and feelings unshared. It’s a bitter push, as neither is used to talking about their depths, and he doesn’t want to pry; yet a sweet pull, as he remains at her side, wishing for the awkwardness to dissipate.

“It’s just...” She begins, and though she faces forward, he catches her sneaking looks at him in her peripheral, “There’s so much going on, I don’t know where to start.”

If he had any blood in his body, he’s sure it’d be racing, his heart thumping wildly in tandem. He thinks she’s ready to talk, and that is half the issue. He thinks, but he doesn’t know; it terrifies and thrills him all the same. He wants to know her – aches for it, if he’s being honest.

But he is terrified, so sure that he’s going to fuck up and ruin the one good thing he’s had in two hundred years. If she rejects him now, shuts him out for good, he’s not sure he can take it.

This was supposed to be easy; she was supposed to be easy.

“It doesn’t matter where you start, I’ll be here for the end.” Shit, shit, SHIT.

“Astarion,” she gasps, hand over her heart, his name melting into a laugh, “That was actually smooth.”

He tsks, “I take offense to that. I’ve always been smooth, you’re just too brutish to notice.”

She laughs again, shaking her head as an enamored smile graces her lips. Her hand brushes stray locks of hair behind her pointed ear and even in the dim glow of the inn’s spell, he can see a blush staining her cheeks.

But then, she sighs, slow and tired as her fingers soothe circles into her temples, “Can you keep a secret for me?”

It’s what he’s been pining for, offered on a silver platter, and how could he not say yes.

He raises his hand to his chest, drawing an ‘x’ over his armor, “Cross my heart and hope to—uh, well, you know.”

Another chuckle escapes her lips as she adjusts her position, angling herself towards him.

She swallows thickly before continuing, “Well, I uh—I talked to Kelemvor.”

“Is that not par for the course for you Doomguides?” He asks incredulously, eyebrow raised and head tilting as he chuckles.

This time, she does not grant him a smile or a laugh, focused on picking at her cuticles and the dirt under her nails.

“I haven’t spoken to him since the nautiloid, I figured the tadpole was interfering,” she says hushed, shame and guilt on the edges of her voice. “I was preparing myself for the worst, but what I got was an impossibility.”

What kind of cryptic bullsh-- She’s been hanging around Withers too much.

Hundreds of possibilities race through his mind. What he knows of Kelemvor is only from what she has shared; while he did not seem to be a vengeful god, they already have one person burdened with a suicide mission. He could live without the blabbersome wizard, but her?

He should have known the universe would only offer him misery, to dangle a sweet treat before him and rip it all away before he had the chance to savor it.

“Did he ask you to sacrifice yourself?” He wants to hear it from her, needs to hear her say those dreaded words so he can make peace before she is nothing more than bones and fading memories.

Her eyes find his, inflamed with tears she no longer has the strength to shed, “I wish he did.”

The pain, the anger, the grief of the last few days resurfaces in her voice, that flare of purple sparking in her irises. Astarion does not often find himself shocked, but the callous and tempestuous storm raging beneath her skin leaves him speechless. Instincts tell him he is witnessing only a fraction of her fury.

Then it ebbs, retreating like the tide, as she takes a deep breath to steady herself.

“I’ve been having doubts, about my purpose, about this path I chose. I expected Kelemvor to berate me for lacking faith.”

Her hands go back to tearing at her cuticles.

“He by no means praised me, but he wasn’t furious, either. He didn’t seem like himself... He didn’t even look like himself. It was as if his passion was gone. I asked him what I should do, and he told me that only I can determine my future.”

“So? What’s wrong with that?” He was genuinely confused by her demeanor. Self-determination, autonomy, freedom; all the things she promised to help him find and keep, yet she fears them for herself.

“Kelemvor has been a part of my life since I was a teenager, I’ve devoted myself to him for the better part of two centuries. I don’t-- I don’t know who I am without him.”

A kindred spirit.

She clenches her jaw, letting out a frustrated huff, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t stay a Doomguide to a god who abandoned his own principles!”

He knows she is bleeding from her nail beds, the lovely scent of spiced wine in the air.

“I took an oath of devotion, to be honorable, compassionate, and honest. I do not fear death of myself nor my loved ones, for death is not something to be afraid of. It is not something one must seek, but it is what one should embrace should it find you,” She explains, “For the last two hundred and fifty-six years, Kelemvor would remind me of these tenets, and commend me for every valiant foe I slaughtered in their image.”

As sweet as the fragrance is, he takes her hands in his; they have seen and caused enough damage for the time being.

“And Kelemvor just... doesn’t care anymore. Every time we saw some poor undead creature cursed by Shar, I was reminded of how he dismissed me, like I was a fool for ever following him in the first place. I was his valiant hero, one his most beloved Paladins, and now what? I’m nothing.”

“You are not nothing,” he replies in an instant, “You are everything. You don't need Kelemvor to be honorable or compassionate, because you already are those things. He was lucky to have someone as devoted as you, but if he wants to toss you aside, then good riddance; it’s his loss, and everyone else’s gain.”

Crimson floods her cheeks again, as she stares at him dumbfounded. He fidgets in the momentary silence, the feeling of actually sharing one's feeling still mildly uncomfortable. But then it dissipates, because she smiles at him and brings their clasped hands to rest over her heart. Its beat is comforting.

“Thanks, Astarion. I don’t know what I would have done without you these last few weeks.”

“Someone had to keep you alive. I know I said you would make a pretty corpse, but that doesn’t mean I’m eager to see it, darling.”

“I’m sure Shadowheart would let you have a nibble if I passed,” she says with a laugh.

“Perhaps, but I don’t think she could compare.”

The steady rhythm of her heart increases under his hands. She adjusts herself again, scooting closer to him so that she can lean her head against his shoulder. Her eyes close as she relaxes into him, and he feels so relieved at knowing her touch could be so intimate yet still so gentle.

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Tav,” He says, his thumb softly tracing along her knuckles, “Why were you having doubts in the first place?”

“Oh! Um...” She says, head lifting from his shoulder, “It’s so embarrassing, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t you dare hold out on me now,” He pleads as he slings his arm across her back, hand resting on her hip and pulling her in close so he can whisper, “Especially when it comes to gossip!”

Sagging against his side, she groans out, “You are the wooooorst.”

He raises his hand to his face, making a dramatic show of clearing his throat before uttering a very sickly sweet, “Please?”

“Okay, fine,” she huffs before grumbling out something unintelligible.

“What was that dear? No one likes a mumbler.”

“Because of you! Because... I like you,” She says, carding her hand through her hair; her walls tumbling and every emotion she’s shouldered alone spilling forth in a maddened haze.

“I’ve seen hundreds of undead, most of whom I gladly sent back to their graves. They were merely the husks of the people they once were. Any soul left in them was but a dying echo as they pleaded for their suffering to end. I thought I was helping,” she says, voice shaking, “But what if I ended the life of someone who just wanted-- no needed-- a second chance? Was I an arbiter of divine justice, or just some glorified executioner? I started to question everything when we met.”

His mind is a whirlwind, thoughts simultaneously speeding yet slow. The half of him that yearns to be known, to be loved, is battling against his ever-present fear that he is not worthy of such. It’s a terrifying concoction, one that has him questioning just how accurate Tav’s description of the undead is. He has no idea who Astarion is; he knows who the elven magistrate once was, but who is Astarion the spawn, besides Cazador’s infernal expectations?

“By no means am I saying that you haven’t suffered, but you are not some hollow corpse, Astarion. Despite everything that’s happened, and everything that has yet to come, you have grown in unprecedented ways. You’ve broken a mold, defied all odds. You’re simply breathtaking...”

He is, isn’t he? No one has given him enough credit; no one has truly recognized the pure shit he has survived through. No one has offered him the chance or the choice to be better. He’s tired of the untrusting sideways glances, the disgusting feeling of some stranger’s eye roaming his figure. He’s always been expected to fall in line, and today he makes the promise to finally live for himself.

“When this is all over, I want to stay by your side, if you’ll have me.”

She looks at him with reverence, like he can pluck the stars from the night sky. He has seen this look before, when she would talk about Kelemvor, and he swears his undead heart nearly beats under her adoring gaze. He has no army to command, cannot turn into mist nor bat; he is practically powerless, and yet she wants him anyway. She believes in him, even though he can’t trust himself. Where he sees nothing, she has found something worth abandoning her god for.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you this quiet before... are you alright?”

He cannot find the words necessary to explain his delight. Even if he did, he doubts he’d still even be able to form them, arrange them into proper sentences. The truth has rendered him speechless.

It doesn’t erase the fact that she sounds hurt, scared even, at the prospect that his silence means rejection. He recognizes the feeling all too well, and if she can overcome its pain to tell him the truth, then dammit, he can do the same. Perhaps he will forever roam darkened streets, but that doesn’t mean all of him must remain in the shadows. He must be honest, expose his own secrets to the proverbial light, and allow her the same choice.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just... feel awful.”

He hopes she chooses him all the same.

“Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan-”

#fullofbeeswrites #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion/reader #astarion/tav #astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion

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kyouxa · 3 months

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Diabolik lovers Lost Eden: Ayato & Laito Sakamaki (short stories)

Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! Scans provided by: @yuikomorii

Ayato Sakamaki

That night, Richter visited the mansion for the first time in a while. Never before I would have thought that the man whose face I never wanted to see again, was the one I would end up choosing as my guardian. My brothers, even the Mukami guys… they looked very surprised to run into his face as well, not that I cared though.

In any case, I just didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes I already made in this world. But thanks to her I’ve already become a different person from back then.

According to Richter’s report, the demon world itself seems to gain stability. He also mentioned that Eden’s restoration has become slightly better and that the familiars of those Mukami guys have come to help. Holy shit, after hearing all of this I couldn’t help but let my inner self get overwhelmed by relief.

As Richter finished his report, he immediately left the mansion and I could finally return to my own room. And just as I opened the door I saw her sitting by the window, reading a book as she slowly raised her face.

“Hm… ? Is Richter-san already back on his way home? Don’t you usually have a longer talk with one another… ?”

As she spoke to me, I approached her and started to smell a calming scent. As I grabbed her hand to move her up from the chair, I couldn’t help but immediately hug her afterwards. The book she was holding in her hand instantly fell onto the floor with a thud.

“Just outta curiosity… but did you happen to take a bath while I was gone?”

She nodded to my question and I started to smile at her in response.

“Heh, so you’ve prepared yourself already? If that’s so, then…”

As soon as I spoke those words, I pushed her down onto the bed next to me. Blocking her flustered face from uttering something, I laid my hand over her lips to keep them closed.

While I started kissing her continuously in various spots of her neck, I disarranged her negligee slightly. And like usually, when my face is already close to her neckline, I might as well get a bit of her luxurious blood out of her dainty neck. Just when I was about to get to it, she stiffened up a little. Noticing this, I suddenly got an idea and gently licked over her neck. “Kya!!”

She was very surprised by my action and therefore let out a small scream. I guess it was pretty unexpected after all.

“Kuku… did you think I was about to suck your blood? You fell for it, didn’t you?”

Right after I said that, I teasingly started licking her ear this time. She lets out another small scream and turns around as if I had just tickled her. I was intrigued by her unusual reaction, which is why I started to really tickle her body this time.

She busted out laughing begging me to stop while she tried to escape from my tickling attack which just made me wanna tickle her even more. If I was already given the choice I might as well do it as thoroughly as possible.

“I’m not letting you go! At least not until I’m satisfied…”

She continued to roll around the bed for a while, trying to resist until she rapidly became obedient and calmed down. “Hm? What’s going on? Surrendering? How boring…”

Just as I was about to move my hands from her, she unexpectedly turned the situation around. “Wha–! What are… hahahaha!”

Of all the things, I didn’t expect her to take advantage of me taking off my hands for a second to gimme a tickle counterattack. Seeing me burst into laughter made her laugh as well. “Stop already, will you!? Hahah! Shit! Chichinashi, move… !”

Receiving even the slightest bit of retribution I immediately became serious again and got my revenge through tickling her body. She tried with all her power to go up against me and return the punishment .

And, just for a brief period I was sure the laughter of both of us was echoing through more than just the room. To be honest, it would’ve been easy for me to get out of this situation and resist her. And yet, the reason why I go along with such a trivial battle is because I would give anything to keep seeing her carefree smile, even if it’s only for a bit longer. The fact that we can both laugh together like this makes me feel happy and maybe that’s because I’ve grown a little since then.

Laito Sakamaki

I’ve returned to the human world in order to finish my school life as a senior high student. I never thought I would have to return here every day again. “Haa… I’m sick of reading this, I wish those tests would finally disappear for good.” While I started to comb my hair out of boredom, my girlfriend who’s sitting next to me continued studying in silence until she replied that it cannot be helped and I should continue reading.

“Come on, Bitch-chan. No need to be such a serious and straight-laced person, no?” As I said those words, I gently put my arm around her back and started to lightly embrace her waist. Even though I saw a faint blush on her face, she reminds me that she is busy studying right now.

“I know that.” But, despite that, I started nibbling on her ear. Perhaps this has always been my normal life no matter to what extent.

To even think that I begged for death because it was unbearable to keep on having these powers in my state… but that is beyond doubt the absolute truth and I totally understand that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the power of the World Tree. The only difference from me back then and now is that I am finally able to accept that reality. During that time, my power was too strong for me to handle, I wasn’t able to come to grasp that reality. And even so, I deserved a second chance. Ironically, due to her help I could finally accept the distortion within me and become more straightforward at the end. I held up my face close to her chest in a way of telling that I love her.

“This is all thanks to you that I can exist like this.” However, she doesn’t reply to me. “Are you agreeing with me if you’re staying silent like this?”

It was a calm sigh that she returned to me that made me understand the answer to my question.

“I guess I was too reckless, no?” She showed a bitter smile as I examined her expression. As I observed her tiny body calmly from top to bottom I was shaken by a sudden feeling of satisfaction. And yet there is no way to help the fact that this world is slowly going to destroy itself. I have been told that alongside my resurrection, the world tree has been new-born but started to shed its leaves ever since. Even though it’s all said and done this is happening just as he wished for. He knew right from the start that I wasn’t ever capable of being the vampire king.

“No matter how far I move on with my life, I will always be right in the palm of his hands.” With those words escaping my mouth, I closed my eyes. It’s still unimaginable to me that I used to be a different person before, but… all I needed in the end is someone like her to accept me as I am. That is because I am Adam and she is Eve. – And no matter what will become of this world, I’m prepared for it.

#diabolik lovers translation #Diabolik Lovers #laito sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #diabolik lovers lost eden #Lost Eden #yui komori

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maxislvt · 1 year

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Missed You

Summary: After being away on a needlessly long mission, the only thing Wanda wants is you.

Warnings: unedited because I wrote this is a total of 4 hours, omegaverse, smut, knotting, riding, might bondage (Wanda's magic), nipple play (no breast mention), omega Wanda typical levels of dominance, brief angst, brief discussion of infertility (reader)

Author's Note: Sorta considering making this into a more connected story that kinda follows r and omega!Wanda from AoU to MoM 🧍🏽 hit me up if you're interested low-key

Wanda found a lot of joy in dominating you.

After a long day of being underestimated by alphas and having her plans ruined by their thick headed incompetence — she could trust you'd be snuggled up in her bedsheets to make her happy again. You'd be working overtime to restore her faith in the world today.

What was only supposed to be a two day mission unfortunately turned into almost a week of reorganizing and trailing because a certain agent couldn't handle taking orders from a beta or omega. Losing focus because of a rut cycle was one thing. That was beyond anyone's culture and suppressants didn't always work. Not listening because of something as silly as "alpha instincts" was stupid completely unprofessional.

The extension meant you were forced to suffer through your rut entirely on your own. Wanda's pettiness and Natasha's professionalism couldn't let such foolishness go without punishment. A meeting with Fury would be another 30 minutes away from you, but it had to be done. You deserved her in the best mood she could possibly be in. Wanda wasn't going to let some idiot get in the way of that.

After justice had been served, she made a beeline for your room. Wanda was shocked to find it empty. She checked the gym and the kitchen and yet you were still nowhere to be found. It was strange. You normally jumped into her arms the second she got home. The only other place you could've been was her bedroom but you rarely went in there without her.

Wanda slowly opened the door to her room and peaked inside. It was a rather nice surprise. You were snuggled up in your own little nest on top of her bed. Alphas didn't nest so it was a nice surprise to see you make your own.

She crept closer to your sleeping form and climbed onto the bed. Wanda placed soft kisses on your cheek in order to wake you up. "How's my favorite alpha pup doing?" She whispered in a sugary sweet voice.

Your heart fluttered before your eyes did. A blush spread across your face as you realized you'd been caught. "Um, sorry about this. You were gone and I missed- I…I don't know it just felt right…" Subconsciously, you sink further into the mattress out of embarrassment. "I was gonna clean up before you got back but I fell asleep."

A smile appeared on her face. "Oh baby, you don't have to apologize. I'm just happy you're comfortable." It's a cute little moment and Wanda doesn't want to ruin it but seeing you so vulnerable and relaxed reminded her why she went looking for you. One of her hands ran up and down your stomach. "Do you want me to scent your nest? Most omegas find their nests more comfortable when their alphas scent is stronger."

For a moment you just soaked in the affection that Wanda gave you. "Mhm, this stuff doesn't smell like you anymore." Your body melted into the bed as Wanda's sweet and spicy scent filled the room. Wanda's body heat and scent were almost enough to send you back to the land of dreams. Before you could, a painfully familiar heat began overtaking your body again. It was searing hot and desperate — worsened by the proximity to your mate. "I think…I think you messed up my rut cycle."

Wanda tilted her in confusion. "What's wrong?" She could've been cruel and played dumb until you properly asked for her, but she decided to play nice. Her hand slid down to your crotch and groped the erection forming in your pants. "You certainly don't have issues getting it up." Your boxers were practically ripped off your body. She straddled your thighs and immediately put her attention on your cock. Already hard and desperate for release. "Tell your omega what's wrong, I can't help you if you don't speak up."

A shiver ran down your spine as Wanda's palm slid up and down your shaft. "Um, it uh it just- ah!" You were putty in Wanda's hands already. She had you shaking and stumbling over your words with just a few touches. The pleasure you desperately craved days earlier was finally at your fingertips. it was almost too much for you to bear. "I- I was fine this morning and I thought it was over, but you're back and it's really bad!"

Wanda hummed as if genuinely contemplating what you were telling her. "It's probably just your rut trying to even out still. Bruce did say it'd take a while for it to be normal again." Either she was right or her mere presence had somehow cranked your hormones up to eleven. Neither sounded that bad to her. She placed a soft kiss on your painfully red tip and smiled. "Tell your omega how bad you need her. Do you want to try knotting me again?"

It seemed to be more of a plan than a question as Wanda already started the process of stripping herself. Wanda loved hearing you insist and rush out an answer, but there was no reason to drag out the situation much longer.

You slipped into Wanda's cunt with ease. She was so warm and tight — it was a miracle you didn't cum in the spot. The thought of barely lasting five minutes had you scrambling to lift her off. "C-can we try another way? I don't think this is really fair to you-"

Wanda pushed you back down. Her magic wrapped around your wrist and pinned them to the head board. "Shush, I know my little alpha is sensitive right now. Just focus on trying to knot me, ok?" She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. Fortunately for you, Wanda decided to take pity on you and set a slow pace for you. Staying in control became increasingly difficult. "If we keep this up, we'll be in sync before you know it."

She nuzzled into your neck, covering you in her scent. Then she immediately slid down to focus on your nipples. "I think I should play with these more, they're so sensitive." The smirk on her face was cat-like and evil. Without much warning, she began to tweak and tug your nipples. Every whine and whimper that came out of your mouth tightened the knot in her stomach. "My little alpha pup is so sensitive at times." She chuckled before giving your nipples a hard tug.

"Noo, don't do that please!" You whined out. Your hips started to squirm and cant up. "I'm gonna cum, please let me cum inside." An unfamiliar swelling started at the base of your cock and slowly began to grow. "I think it's happening!" Your head fell back against the pillow. Overstimulation was going to be the death of you. "It's too much."

Wanda continued to rut against you. "No no, it's okay just keep going." She cupped your face, forcing you to look at her. Intimacy was always her number one priority. "Look at me, baby. You're doing such a good job." She let out a throaty moan as your knot finally slipped inside of her. "Oh baby, you're making me feel so full. I'm proud of you!"

You buried your face into your omega's neck. A low whine forced its way out of your mouth as your cum painted Wanda's walls. "Fuck that feels so good," You rushed as your knot finally slipped inside of Wanda.

The painful stretch of your knot was all Wanda needed to tumble into her own orgasm. Her walls fluttered and her hips began to mindlessly rut against you with no direction. "You're making your omega feel good, I love you so much." She peppered kisses all over your face as she rode out her high. Wanda fell forward the second her orgasm was over.

Both of you were covered in sweat, tired, and absolutely ruined.

You were the first to speak after a best of silence. "Is this…is this gonna get you pregnant?" The two of you had yet to discuss what you wanted for yourselves. Retirement, college, kids — all that stuff seemed like something for the future. It wasn't a good idea to make those decisions so quickly.

Wanda shook her head. "A knot doesn't work if you can't get pregnant beforehand." She kissed your cheek. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Just relax for now, okay?" A family would've been wonderful, but you weren't capable of getting Wanda pregnant and Avenging with a family wasn't ideal. The truth left Wanda's eyes stinging, but she trusted that the two of you could make something work.

You could see the sadness growing on Wanda's face, but decided not to make it worse. Instead, you wrapped her in a tight hug and scented her. "You can be the big spoon when I can pull out if you want…"

Wanda leaned back and looked up at you. You took care of her even when you were covered in sweat and ass naked. A loving smile spread across her face. "I don't know, I might stick to being the little spoon from now on," She said teasingly. Wanda laughed at the pout on your face. "I'm kidding. I couldn't let my favorite teddy bear go without cuddles for too long."

You let out an embarrassed huff as a blush spread across your face. "You're so mean sometimes."

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff smut #omega!wanda

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exactlycleverpirate · 4 months

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Timeline from Xavier's Perspective Part 1

EDIT: This has been updated to include the endings of all myths as well as some other information.

(Includes spoilers for basically everything, including all myths.)

This is an update of my earlier post. Part 2 here.

If you are interested in more speculation than facts, check out my Half-baked Theories and Wild Theories About Rafayel. For an in-depth exploration of Rafayel’s story, see What Happened to Lemuria and Rafayel and Rafayel's Timeline Redux Part 1. For current game story see Love and Deepspace: the Story So Far Part 1.

Timeline from Xavier's perspective (Part 1/Philos):

Xavier is born on Philos. He is the Crown Prince of the royal family. Life is connected to the core of Philos, making him and most people on Philos immortal while the planet remains. Philos has a fake core that is holding together the separate tectonic plates of former Earth. Travel between these plates is difficult (no oceans?).

214 PT (Philos Time) Xavier went to school with MC in year 214, which is 214 years after the destruction of earth. MC has a fatal heart condition. Some of the professors lived on Earth before its destruction. Xavier is under constant guard and has little freedom. (Anecdote 3)

217 PT MC and Xavier become friends and fall in love. She gives him the star charm tassel that she made.

Xavier finds out MC is dying. They go on a date to see a meteor shower by a salt flat. After this, Xavier disappears for a month.

MC escapes the hospital to go to the salt flat. Xavier finds her there and has the protocore that is supposed to be able to save her, but it is too late. She dies in his arms. Xavier promises to seek her out in her future lives.

Zayne's Myth. Zayne guards the Creatio protocore in a frozen tower as a Foreseer of Astra. The royal family sends him emissaries seeking a prophecy every 100 years, but they never return. MC is a gardener with a fatal heart condition and is seeking the Creatio protocore to save her life. (Is this the same protocore that Xavier found in her first life on Philos?) Zaybe says if she can make the jasmine on the balcony of the Tower bloom, she can go free.

MC and Zayne have been stuck in a loop, where MC seeks out the Creatio to heal her dying heart, Zayne falls in love with her, she dies, his memories are erased (but preserved as fragments in an illusory jasmine garden), and she is reincarnated to do it all again. This is happening because of some sort of resonance link between MC and the Creatio, which makes it so the Creatio can power itself by draining her life.

After the jasmine on the tower blooms, Zaybe remembers what has happened to them in the past. Zayne breaks the cycle by fusing the Creatio to MC's heart, healing her. He is then locked in an eternal slumber in the Tower of Thorns behind an eternal blizzard as punishment by Astra. MC is free, and her heart appears to be healed, but she can no longer get to Zayne.

30,000 PT Assuming the seas dried up when Earth was destroyed and became Philos, Rafayel's Myth takes place around this time. MC was born from the depths of the earth. She has a special heart that makes the people of Philos immortal and is guarded in a palace, treated as a princess, and not allowed to leave.

Child MC is gifted a young Rafayel as a Lemurian slave. She sets him free. (Rafayel later tells her he allowed himself to be caught on purpose.)

MC meets Rafayel as adults while she is attempting to escape the palace. He helps her. They continually meet up and she learns he was the boy she released as a child. Rafayel, Amund, and other Lemurians are killing human nobles. Rafayel tells MC this is not out of revenge, but rather somehow part of an effort to restore Lemuria/the oceans. MC asks how she and Rafayel can be bound as he never gave her one of his scales. He says their bond was formed when the oceans still existed. MC has vague memories of living in a hut on the Island of Songs surrounded by ocean.

Rafayel and Amund are plotting to recover “the God of the Sea’s (Rafayel’s) heart from MC by cutting it out with a dagger on the Island of Songs. However, the heart must be given willingly. Rafayel is uncertain whether the legends are true about killing MC to restore the oceans and Lemuria. Per the legend, the goal seems to be attaining Absolute Power. According to the legend, “Lemurians who seeketh Absolute Power: Combat the treacherous tides. Dive into The Deep for pearls. Find a true love. When blessed with a true love’s kiss, claim her heart by your own hand. A heart, pure, flawless-and filled with love. It is the best offering humans can give to Lemurians. -Lemurian Ruins, Slate No. 0065, Lemuria: Tome of the Sea God”. (Amund has served multiple Gods of the Sea over the centuries. Are these all reincarnations of Rafayel or are there multiple Gods of the Sea?)

6 months after Rafayel and MC celebrate her birthday, he and Amund take her to the Island of Songs, which she recognizes. She remembers her past life with Rafayel and realizes that Rafayel will fall into eternal slumber and the seas will never be restored if she does not return his heart. She offers to cut it out, but Rafayel refuses, saying he and the Lemurians will have to find their own way to change to story. He attempts to erase her memories and sever their bond to save her. Rafayel calls her his beloved bride.

MC is returned to the palace with no memories of Rafayel, but she watches the blue fish he gave her when they were young and slowly begins to remember. Hearing that the Lemurians are on the verge of being captured, and remembering that Rafayel intends to leave, she runs out of the city to find him, her memories and their bond once more intact.

Unsure how to resolve things, they set out on a camel across the desert to find Whalefall City. Amund is with them. Rafayel suggests that somehow by going to Whalefall City, he’ll be able to show her the sea. (Based on the Tender Moment, Whalefall Lament, it seems likely that Whalefall City is the name of the Lemurian city under the sea that Rafayel grew up in as a child on Earth.) The blue fish in the palace turns into a scale, presumably the one he gifted her to form their bond.

Xavier meets MC again at a Philos Academy as knights in training, sometime near the end of Philos’ life as a planet. Jeremiah goes to the Academy too. Xavier is the Crown Prince, but avoids returning to the royal family, remaining at the Academy instead.

During his Gladius Ceremony in the Starfall Forest, Xavier discovers that the forest contains the hollow heart of Philos and consumes people to power the long-dead core. This creates Wanderers. Xavier realizes protocores used to contain hearts. MC notices his attitude/demeanor changes noticeably after this trial. He rejects his role of Crown Prince after this.

The king dies, and Xavier disappears for about 200 years.

MC and Xavier meet up again while investigating Starfall Forest. Jeremiah is part of MC’s squad. Xavier reveals what he learned about the forest to MC. He tells her that the royal family used to send human sacrifices into the forest. Then they discovered a truly immortal person who could die and come to life over and over, continually powering the planet. MC does not realize he is talking about her. She realizes the woman who gave him the star tassel is the same woman who reincarnates.

Xavier begins planning a backtracking expedition through spacetime in order to find a way to save MC and Philos. Jeremiah decides to join the team. MC decides to stay and become Queen to protect the people of Philos until Xavier can return. Xavier says that when he returns, he will be her knight. She gives him her little star badge, saying she knows that it can't replace the star tassel. He tells her only one person has ever given him a little star, but she doesn't understand what he means.

Xavier leaves MC’s service, and she fakes his death, claiming he died with honors. He is viewed as a traitor by the people of Philos. MC does not believe he will ever return.

Timejump.

See Part 2 here for Earth Timeline

A thought: Is the reason that MC is considered the only true immortal because she has or is connected to Rafayel/The God of the Sea’s heart? Lemurians appear to be naturally immortal, though not undying.

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #xavier #zayne #rafayel

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sepublic · 11 months

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When discussing the ways in which Luz and Belos both parallel Christ in the finale, I find it interesting how they do so in different ways...

Belos draws upon the crucifixion of Christ; One of its most well-known and emphasized symbols. The constant reminder that he died, that he suffered in agony. You can see the translation into the self-flagellation, the noble suffering aspects of Christianity and its sects...

And it coincides just nicely with Belos’ cruelty, the suppression of his coven, his insistence on conformity, and his retributive take on justice. Instead of focusing on compassion and healing, he decides punishment is more important (just as the punishment of Christ is emphasized), hence why he suggests to the Collector in the finale that it’s more practical to just wipe people out, rather than teach them anything.

Luz, by contrast... She draws upon the much less discussed aspect of Christ, the more important part arguably; The resurrection. In a sermon I attended for the sake of a family member, the pastor introduced this intriguing point, that people always speak of Jesus as if he DIED for humanity’s sins... But in doing so, this emphasis on the death, and not the resurrection afterwards, unintentionally undermines the point of his story. It suggests it ended on that mundane, negative note, and so one shouldn’t gloss over the healing aspect of Christ’s narrative.

And I find that intriguing, since Luz is on the side of restorative justice, not just in terms of how she should’ve been treated; But also as someone who has extended a compassionate hand to many who have done wrong or been horrible, but have also genuinely suffered, and enabled them to become better and happier. Even if some don’t reciprocate, Luz tries anyway... And that’s the other, kinder side to Christianity; The redemption. The kindness. The ability to recover from one’s darkest, lowest points. The guiding light that emphasizes the recovery, not the pain and suffering.

So ultimately, given TOH’s discussion of Retributive VS Restorative justice... As much as TOH deconstructs Christianity, it seems potentially interested in REconstructing it as well, in engaging with its more compassionate side that many, including its own self-professed worshippers, have neglected. And that fits nicely with Luz’s ideology winning out in the end, with her being more of a true Christ allegory than Belos, without even trying; Luz is humble and is doing good for its own sake, Belos is committing a false good in order to service his pride and delusions of being a savior. A true believer vs an impersonator, Christ VS Anti-Christ.

#the owl house #luz noceda #emperor belos #philip wittebane #cw christianity #meta #analysis #parallels #foils

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lttawnymadison · 1 month

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TGCF Revised Version Afterword by MXTX

Since I kept seeing snippets of this, I wanted to read the whole thing for myself. I'd already bought the book on JJWXC and did an MTL for this. It's so wonderful that she's back and sharing new things and that the revised is finally done! - Tawny --------------------------------------------- The author has something to say:

Seeing the small red clay stove again.

———— Afterword of "Heaven Official's Blessing" 2022

■ Finally done!

Long time no see! It's another afterword starting with "finally." Without further ado, seasoned readers would know that I make substantial revisions. For instance, scenes like the Bai Feng Mountain Hunt and the ending recognition of Sizhui in the serial version of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" were not originally there.

The revisions in "Heaven Official's Blessing" are the most extensive of all my works. It was a huge project, as it is also the longest in terms of length, serialized over eight months. Due to poor health and other reasons, the revision process was interrupted for a long time before I picked it up again, and it sporadically took about five to six months over several years.

In the era of web novels, there are endless new entertainments, and honestly, not many people re-read a story. Plus, some problems in the serialized version are structural and can't be changed, but I still tried my best to address my regrets. After all, when I was serializing it, I was almost always in a feverish and sick state, barely pushing through. Additionally, I often enjoy comparing different versions of my favorite authors' works back and forth, finding pleasure in the process. So, for readers, discovering "Wow, this part has changed!" is like starting a new journey with Easter eggs in a second round.

■ The new revised version includes about 100,000 words of new content!

These 100k words are mainly concentrated in the latter half of Volume 1 and Volume 3, but there are plenty scattered throughout the text. For example, I fulfilled a promise to A-Hua, giving him several new outfits. Seeing A-Hua dressed beautifully in a new hairstyle to meet his gege made me happy.

In terms of the intensity of revisions, personally, I feel it goes like this:

Volume 1 and Volume 2 > Volume 3 > Volume 5 > Volume 4.

Additionally, the new version cuts some redundant words and plots that weren't very meaningful. However, I tried to keep all the original interactions between Hua Lian as complete as possible. If some minor interactions are missing, they weren't deleted but moved around.

■ One day, I suddenly dug out something.

An antique from 2017, a folder called "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection."

Curiously, I opened it and read with interest.

● Comparing the original setting outline and the main text, the highest fidelity is in the main storyline between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.

A-Hua, restored at a ratio of 1:100.

Hua's character setting is the most detailed, and virtually every point made it into the main text, including details like "ghosts don't like the sun, so Hua Cheng sometimes drapes a red cloth over his head"...

Points not used, listed a few:

As a child:

· After being saved from falling off a city wall, he foolishly followed a parade over and over again, grabbing people to ask, "Who is that? Who is that person?" People told him, "That's the royal son, the future Celestial God, the most outstanding Crown Prince of Xianle Nation ever!"

(This point couldn't be used because in the text A-Hua was held in the Crown Prince's arms after being saved)

· At home, he was often punished to stand or kneel, not given food, and wore old clothes, accused of stealing money. Whenever he argued with his family, he would stubbornly sleep in the Prince's temple overnight.

· Went to Mount Tai Cang to volunteer sweeping red leaves at Huangji Observatory, just to sneak peeks at his future wife happily swinging.

After becoming the ghost king:

· One of his hobbies is buying and building houses everywhere.

· Very protective of his leather boots, would (badly) polish them until they shone.

· To other devout followers of Xie Lian, he said: "You have good taste."

· Secretly prepared many betrothal gifts for his beloved god, wanting to marry him!

The character setting of Xie Lian as a teacher in the serialized version compared to the initial draft, the serialized text subtly differs. The initial draft was more... exquisite and elegant, very serious. The serialized text is more... humorous. I think perhaps because some plot points were tragic, Xie Lian thought he should be happier to make the readers more relaxed, so he drove me to adjust his mental state! But due to the spiritual oppression at that time, the character's depth was not enough, while in the new revised version, I hope he can show a more self-content state on the same core basis.

Excerpts from the unused original setting:

· Super easy-going. Easy-going means: if given fifty bucks, he would happily dress in drag and dance. Accepts haggling. Thirty bucks works. Twenty bucks too!

· The observatory is small, the house is broken, wants to grow flowers. Leaks during rain, so he uses a bucket to catch rainwater.

· Because he can't afford a caretaker, he cleans himself, and also feeds chickens. Chickens eat flowers. Keeps a cat.

· Completely engrossed in discussing serious matters, he unknowingly finished all the broken sweet dumplings!

● Water, Earth, Wind original setting:

The highest fidelity is the main line between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, followed by the Water, Earth, Wind subplot.

The main conflict hasn't changed. Just... how could the original setting of Water, Earth, Wind be so dark and terrifying!

The character morals in the main text improved a lot, otherwise, the original Black Water would be sheer scheming + murderous! The ending for the Wind Master would have been more tragic.

The Venerable of Empty Words suddenly became an improvised character. It seemed like an ancient fable-like monster, making the main text more interesting than the original setting.

Overall, the formal version is a bit better written than the original draft.

● The unfortunate life of Lang Ying:

Lang Ying? Is there such a character? I don't remember!

Ah? It seems there was such a person, but I don't remember any of his plotlines.

This is most people's feeling towards the character of Lang Ying. It's not a delusion because he barely had any significant plot. In fact, any valuable scenes could have been replaced equivalently, so in the new revised version, I deleted this character.

But, in the 2017 setting collection, I suddenly found that I had actually opened a separate document for Lang Ying, and his role was defined as a "growing-type BOSS!"

I was silent.

And immediately opened the document, curious about my initial setting. A "growing-type BOSS," how did he become someone whose deletion went unnoticed...? (I even don't know how to address him!)

Who knows, perhaps out of excitement, I accidentally pressed the wrong shortcut, and somehow it became irreversible, leaving only an empty document for me to stare in disbelief. The once "growing-type BOSS" has now forever become a mystery!

This is the unfortunate life of the deleted Lang Ying.

· There was another document in the setting collection called "Swordsmith." I opened the document and read it with interest.

I was shocked. Because I completely forgot I had conceived this story. Why didn't I write it?!

Darn.

I know why I didn't write it. This story... it had no ending!

——————— Thus, the magical glimpse into the "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection" concludes!

■ I like men with stories!

Maybe because I watched an outstanding work as a child. It was a memoir, the protagonist in the biography was gentle and affable, and the protagonist in the memories was cold and ruthless. The story was scattered with the poignant fragrance of white plum blossoms amidst bloody and stormy circumstances.

This almost perfect work deeply influenced my aesthetics, leading me to be most interested in the memory parts of characters in various works. Although many viewers prefer the present scenes, often asking when the memories will end, I actually find these intense and painful memories to be the most fascinating!

A story is the history of a character, as well as the key to their personality. A person with a story stands before me like a puzzle. The way to solve this puzzle is to understand their story. Because the biography makes one curious to know more about a character they like, loving them more now because of their past. When serializing "Heaven Official," my greatest pain initially was telling myself, "This time I don't want to write a memory slaughter," deliberately trying to avoid a structure similar to previous works, yet I still hadn't found a better way to express it, resulting in my deep dissatisfaction with the later part of Volume 1. I was also hesitant to fully commit to the memory scenes in Volume 2, and with the heavy mental burden, this part was very painful to write. When revising, looking at Volume 2 was almost unbearable, because I'm the type of person who, as a child, would immediately switch channels when a TV show's protagonist was about to be wrongfully accused or embarrassed. I couldn't help but knock on a friend's door and ask:

Me: Was the author suffering some kind of mental trauma at the time? This negative energy is too horrifying, the protagonist is so pitiful, I really admire anyone who could read through Volume 2 completely.

Friend: Do you even have the right to say that?

But the memory slaughter in Volume 4 was much freer, written in one breath, so the revisions for this volume were also the least.

So, will you still write large segments of memory slaughter?

Um, well, we'll see, haha, hehe...

■ Closing Remarks:

Lastly, I'll address the question some asked me, "Will the new revised 'Heaven Official's Blessing' be more torturous?"

Me: You're talking nonsense. 'Heaven Official's Blessing' is a sweet pampering story, thank you!

Acknowledgments:

Shi Nai'an wrote in the preface to "Water Margin": "On snowy nights, about five or six people listen to my storytelling; on rainy days, about seven or eight; on bright and sunny days, about ten. I read, everyone listens, and we are all happy, with no other thoughts." When I read this as a young person, I was delighted. What divine days! Writing first to entertain oneself, then to entertain others. Self-expression and self-acceptance are certainly primary, but the affection of others is also a significant positive feedback. Thus, first, I thank the steadfast readers who have accompanied me all this time. I've thought about just walking away amidst the noisy disputes; abandoning the account amidst the tumultuous world! It seems not bad. But looking back, I can't bear to leave some truly sincere readers.

I've had authors I liked disappear from the internet, and I always feel like a part of my youth has vanished, a feeling quite distressing, reminiscent of overly grand and harsh things like the tears of the era or the torrent of history. So, I want to accompany my readers as long as possible, hoping that the day of parting comes later. Perhaps I'm not good enough now, but I will strive to be better in the future. Or perhaps you've never truly understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but as long as you genuinely like my stories, we can sit down and chat.

And, I must mention my friends, who can be described as having the courage of a hero. Long time no see, Teacher Changyang's illustrations are still as beautiful as those of a celestial being, I hope Teacher CAS can go to bed earlier and worry less, and Teacher Kuohao, who despite a heavy workload, still fully honored our agreement. The "Heaven Official's Blessing" radio drama is really fantastic! It reminded me of the original intention of writing this story, and I was very moved. If it weren't for the silent companionship and efforts of these old friends, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu might have stopped writing back in 2016, disappearing from the world of martial arts, and thus, "Heaven Official's Blessing" would not have been born. I look forward to retracing the paths we once walked together when gathering ideas. And many friends who reached out to help and encourage me, thank you for accompanying me through the snowy nights.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #hob #heaven official's blessing #mxtx #mo xiang tong xiu #天官赐福 #tgcf revised version #lttawnymadison post

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