#so logically speaking it makes sense for me to keep thinking about him right?

[iftitah]

.

[daenysx]

hi bby, could i request jealous modern!aemond?😊

i tried my best but i feel like everything was better in my head, i hope i managed to get things right with the words <333 thanks for requesting

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

-aemond needs to get you back.

cw; kinda like exes to lovers, jealous!aemond, aemond being an idiot and he's sorry for that, criston cole in his own warning, reader's shorter than aemond, mentions of alcohol, kissing, aemond being desperate to get you back, also he's a sad fool and he accepts that, suggestive towards the end but nothing descriptive, title is a hozier lyric

wc; 2k

i'll crawl home to her

aemond likes to think he's good at controlling his emotions. at least he can keep his face neutral, he doesn't let people know what he thinks.

that turns out to be a lie, though, the moment he sees a guy behind the bar stool you sit.

he relaxes his fists. you're not his girlfriend. he has no right to feel jealous over your affections. who's that guy, anyway? how can he be bold enough to talk to you like this, leaning to the bar with his arm almost wrapped around you? aemond hates the idea of someone being braver than him. he fucking despises the idea of you giving a smile to that- that asshole.

"you okay?" cole asks, his glass almost empty in his hand. he follows aemond's gaze and, boom. just like he guessed.

"of course, i'm okay." aemond replies, coolly. there's no logical reason behind his real emotions.

"if you keep staring like that, she will notice."

aemond turns to him sharply. his gaze is burning, almost feels like crying or something worse than that. "i'm not staring."

"if you say so." cole shrugs. he's got worse problems than dealing with aemond's jealousy to be honest. he knows aemond will never admit what's happening in truth.

"do you- do you know who that is?" aemond asks, not that he thinks cole can actually know a random guy at the bar. he tries to fill the stupid silence between them, change the subject after that, storm out when he finishes his drink. he despises the pathetic situation he unwillingly put himself into.

"do i know the guy who's flirting with your ex-girlfriend?" cole pretends to think. "um- no, i don't actually."

the mention of you burns his chest. it's because of the whisky, he tells himself. keep your cool, keep your cool. don't let them know anything.

"it doesn't matter, anyway." he says, feeling like a desperate fool.

"no, it doesn't." cole agrees. aemond can sense his mocking, his tendency to talk boldly tonight. cole isn't like that usually. "because you are not together anymore."

"we're not."

"because you let her go." cole continues, takes a sip from his glass. "it was quite stupid of you if you ask me."

"i didn't ask you, cole."

"no, no, but just- what were you thinking when you decided to break things off with her, hmm? what was the motivation behind it?"

"you're going too far."

"i'm not." cole says. "you just can't face with your own decisions."

"fuck off." aemond stands up, getting his jacket. "you don't even know what you're talking about. didn't ask your damn opinion about my love life, did i?"

"just admit you failed, aemond. lost the one good thing about you." cole speaks calmly after him. "you'd do all of us a great favor."

aemond walks away. there's no need for drunken arguments tonight, he's certainly not in the mood for discussing his past decisions. he can't help a brief look on your seat, though. you're not there. he didn't see you leaving, he can't see your jacket or that sparkly purse you love so much. the guy stays where he is, chatting with his friends. where are you?

"oh!" someone shorter than him almost collapses with his chest. "aemond?"

aemond wishes you to not look so pretty with that smudged eye make up and- his fucking favorite color on your lips. what kind of strength should he have to not kiss you against the wall when you're looking at him through those glossy eyes? he takes a step back, an apology ready on his lips.

you beat him through it. "sorry." you say, blinking your pretty eyes. "didn't see you there."

"no, it's okay." he collects himself before doing something stupid. "i was walking too fast."

you nod, your purse in your hand and your jacket thrown on your shoulders. you don't look drunk, maybe just tipsy. turning your back to him, you keep walking your way, out of the club. running into your ex-boyfriend shouldn't stop you from going home.

aemond thinks of the guy back there. you're not together with him, are you? he's not with you right now, he doesn't call a cab, and you don't look like you're waiting for anyone. that must be a relief. it doesn't feel like it, though. aemond is certain anyone who sees you would fall for your charms, that guy was no exception. all the hypothetical men get into his head. fuck them all.

"are you alone?" he asks you, foolishly. you nod. no words for him. why would you bother?

"i can- my car is over there if you-"

"i don't want anything from you, aemond."

okay. he deserves this. he knows he deserves this.

"it's late." he says. "i know you don't want anything to do with me, but i can at least-"

"i said no." you cut him. "you don't have to pretend to care."

you start walking in the cool breeze of night air. it feels nice on your face. aemond follows you like he's lost, like he doesn't know where to go without you. "can we talk?" he asks, his voice is softer than the last time you talked. "please?"

"there's nothing to talk about." you tell him, looking at him briefly.

"i made a mistake." he says like he's pleading. the alcohol gets him, his lips move on their own. he keeps telling himself he won't regret anything he tells you right now. he's not drunk, that means they are all real. "i made many mistakes. letting you go was the worst of them."

"that sounds like an interesting story." you say, sarcastically. "would you like to continue? i'm sure people on the street will enjoy your freak show."

he has no explanation for this but your attitude turns him on.

"i saw you with that guy." he says.

"you really should stop talking now." you say. "you're being pathetic."

"no, i-" he can get on his knees and beg. he's cursing his past self, cursing his stupid decisions. "please."

"please, what?" you get angrier each second. this is not a game you'll be playing with him. "do you realize how stupid you sound?"

"of course i do." he answers with a slight pout. "i just need you to see- to understand how terrible it makes me feel, to- to see you with another guy and not being able to do anything about it-"

"no need to be so selfish." you say, calmly. "i'm not your anything. you cannot react like this every time we run into each other by chance."

"i regret it." his legs can give up any second now. he begs for something divine to help him out of his misery. "i regret everything i did. i never should have let you go."

your heartbeat gets quicker with anger and adrenaline. the fact that you're still hopelessly in love with him does nothing to calm your nerves. he doesn't deserve your love. you will not accept anything he says until he proves he's worthy. you try to control your breath, stop your hands from shaking. he has no right to do this, you remind yourself.

"it's too late." you say. "you don't deserve to get everything back after you let them go like the way you did."

he looks at you so sweetly, you have to swallow and look away. he's fond of that attitude of yours, how you put yourself first after he hurt you, and his chest tightens with the loss of you there but he can't help a wave of affection towards your frowny face and your crossed arms. there's his girl, you're still there, still present with your anger and precise words. he would to anything to get you back.

"i know." aemond agrees, slowly. "i promise, i know- and you're right, whatever you decide to do, you're right."

"are you trying to fix us just because you saw me with another guy?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"no, of course not. not only because of that." he says quickly. "i wanted you back since the first time you walked out. i just didn't have enough courage to talk to you."

"so you're admitting you were being stupid and acting like coward?" you challenge him with two things he hates the thought of being the most.

"it was stupid of me to break up with you." he says slowly. he's gonna have to be a big boy for this. "i was only trying to protect you from my family and- and myself, but i acted cowardly."

"i can protect myself." you say. "i don't need you to decide for me."

"i know that, sweetheart." he smiles. it's a tiny move on his lips, he's always so fond of your independent nature. "i apologise for not speaking things clearly."

it's your turn to smile. you take a step towards him, he stays still. the top buttons of his shirt expose his neck nicely, the chain you got him hanging there. he never let you go. he was only being an idiot. you think you want him back. he can fix his own idiocity by himself, but you want him back.

"what do you want?" you ask with a kind voice like you're teasing. you're not teasing, not in the least but he doesn't know that, does he?

"i want you to be my girlfriend again." he says, straightening his posture. his shoulders are high, his neck long. he feels like a dragon ready to fight for you. "if you'll have me."

you push him softly against the wall behind him and cup his cheeks. he accepts the kiss greedily, changing positions so that your back is against the wall. he makes a rightful mess of your lipstick, his hands on your waist and on the back of your neck. you close your eyes. his scent hits your senses so well, your hand goes to his shoulder to pull him closer.

you break the kiss. "you cannot do the same thing again, okay? you cannot leave me and come back, you cannot think for my place and make my decisions when it comes to you and our relationship."

"okay." he says, his eye closed and his lips following your mouth. "i promise."

"good." you say, pull him for another kiss. it's only been two weeks but you missed him. he feels safe like this, and familiar with his body pressed against yours against the wall of a club. the darkness of the night covers you, your sparkly purse is the only thing that can be seen from a distance.

aemond kisses you like he's been out of breath for so long. he's been a desperate fool for days but now it's over. everything gets clear when he gets you like this, his mind free of worry and anger, all those devilish thoughts that bother him. he's content with his place, he doesn't have to pretend he's okay. it's all real.

"by the way-" you start saying between two lovely kisses. "that guy back there already has a lover named charles. you didn't have to worry about him anyway."

aemond laughs and it's a real laugh, not one of the fake ones he has to throw into aegon's or cole's face. you smile and he kisses your cheek. you hold his hand, he squeezes your fingers.

"i like your dress." he changes the subject, leading you to his car. "is that new?"

"of course it is." you answer, cheekily. "my boyfriend decided to be a jerk for no reason and i had to keep myself busy with something."

aemond had no idea the night could turn into something amazing when he first agreed to come here with cole. he can't keep his hands off you, kisses you against the car this time. he's gotta find a way to make up for the time he made you lost. kissing you and getting you your favorite drink on the way home might be a good start.

he gives you a silent promise to atone his sins between your legs in the following hours.

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Haikyuu Boys calling you ma’am ──☆*:・ﾟ

Team ! Nekoma

Characters: Kuroo, Kenma, Lev, Yaku, fukunaga, inuoka!

KUROO*

He a freak (jk). He teases, he is also respectful tho! Normally calls you ma’am just to be respectful, rarely does he call you ‘ma’am’ to tease. He is kind of a task rabbit so if you ask him to do something he won’t hesitate to say “yes ma’am!”

“Hey, could you possibly make me some food?” “Yes ma’am, what would you like?” But if for someeee reason he decides to be sassy it basically goes: “your being kinda mean don’t you think?” “No I’m just being honest” “it’s not nice. Be nicer.” “UGHHHH yes ma’am. Whatever you say ma’am.” “Dude.” And then he just laughs at you.

KENMA*

He really wants to make you happy so if he thinks your mad or upset at him he breaks. He is seriously threatened by you when your angry but also just wants to calm you down

“I can’t believe this?!” “W-what?” “Look at this MESS? Did you do this?!” “N-no ma’am” “Then who did.” “Uhm…it was me…just don’t be mad…” “just…clean it up…” “yes maam.”

LEV*

He was just raised right, kinda… he really does try to be nice, he takes what you say seriously and always wants to respect you. It could be as simple as you teaching him a technique in volleyball that’s ‘easy’

“If you think your going to miss the ball you can just lean to whichever side you need too it’s just a falling risk, you didn’t know that…it’s common sense…” “no ma’am I did NOT know that. But I’d rather miss the ball then fall on my face…”

YAKU*

He is normally the one scolding people but when you came along he finally has someone to scold him, he naturally takes it seriously

“Yaku you can’t be so mean to lev, like I get tough love but if I was him I wouldn’t feel to good about the things you say.” “He need to learn that he actually needs to try!” “And you need to learn that he is trying his best!” “But I-…yes ma’am.” He grumbles reluctantly

FUKUNAGA*

He may be quiet but he’s not scared of everything like talking to people and such, but he Is scared of you when your even the slightest bit irritated. He can read emotions well so he can tell when your upset, he tries his best to comfort

“Why…why are you upset?” “Don’t speak” you say angrily “yes ma’am…” he comes back with your favorite food and feeds them to you. After you calm down you speak “you can talk…I was just mad” “I know I’d rather keep quiet when your upset, your kinda scary haha!” he jokes

INUOKA*

He’s hype asf, literally just like Hinata. He would call you ma’am because he thinks your wise (his logic is a little backwards)

“I don’t know if I want oranges or apples with my lunch” “have both?” “You are SO wise!” “You say that everytime i say something you didn’t think of-” “yes ma’am I do!”

What’s good y’all! I’m done dying! Anywaysss eat this up while I write more haikyuu, I’m in a haikyuu mood yall I gotta write as much as I can

[illitfiction]

THIS MAY END IN UNCERTAINTY | ALHAITHAM (PART 1)

⋆𐙚₊˚ premise: a private conversation in the library between you and alhaitham escalate things to unfolding events.

⋆𐙚₊˚ tags: rivals to potential lovers. afab reader. divider creds: cafekitsune.

⋆𐙚₊˚ cw: explicit nsfw! smut, sexual tension, making out, library sex, cunnilingus, vaginal sex.

You don’t know how long you coped in the House of Daena. But you do know that it’s been long enough since you abandoned the meeting.

To say that you’re alright after running out of the room earlier is an understatement. You don't give in to your anger with the Scribe of the Akademiya, Alhaitham. But today, he did. He provokes you until you fight back in ways you shouldn’t have. An argument that was fiery and consuming, overshadowing your sense of logic.

Now everyone knows. Now he knows what you are. You’re an over-emotional scholar.

Since then, you’ve been hiding in the library. Distracting yourself with the books and sitting on top of the ladder. When you hear distant footsteps, there’s a rise of anxiety thumping your heart. You’re in the middle of the climbing ladder. Your back facing out of the open. “I’m not in the mood, Kaveh.”

The library falls silent before the owner’s voice speaks up. “I’m not the Kaveh you’re hoping to talk to.”

You’re at a complete standstill when you hear him. Kaveh promised that he’ll come to pick you up after his class, but now, it doesn’t seem like the case. You believe your friend would never let anyone know your haven whenever you need to be alone. But how did he find you here?

“I had my suspicions that you could be the Inspector,” Alhaitham says. “You managed this far to keep your role a secret even off the akasha terminal. I’m impressed.”

Ah, yes. The outburst that led you to reveal your kept-quiet job. All because you got into a fight with Alhaitham. Well, actually, he winded you up so that you lose your cool. He questioned your ability as an Inspector to do the job. Didn’t think that you were capable of the role.  Alhaitham didn’t directly criticise you when he didn't know at first, yet it still hurts. It was an insult from him.

There are definitely going to see consequences for what you did. But you’ll worry about that later.

“What do you want?”

Alhaitham stays quiet. His voice sounds unfeigned when he says; “I want to talk.”

You laugh at his words. “Whatever you have to say to me, I’m not interested in hearing it.”

“The meeting isn't over,” Alhaitham says a little louder than to your liking. “It’s not like you to walk off like that.”

You push one of the books into one of the shelves, slamming it in the process. That echoes in the library. “Oh, so what, you’re taking notes on how I behave too? Unclass and unscholarly-like? Scribe that down will you.”

Again, Alhaitham says nothing, which is odd of him. He would always have something to say to you, and his silence is a little discomforting. His presence here is infuriating.

You descend the ladder, minding your footwork. The library doesn’t feel like your haven anymore now that Alhaitham is here. You want to be as far away from him as possible. Thinking of the next place you could go to. Maybe you should go home until everyone forgets about what happened. If they could ever forget…

One of your feet slips off the step and the ladder wobbles. You clutch onto the sides to regain your balance and you think your eyes flash before your eyes. It gives your heart a scare. You open your eyes now that you have regained your balance. “Watch what you’re doing.” A voice stern.

You turn your gaze. Alhaitham appears right in front of you. He’s standing on the ladder next to you and you feel his hand on your back. It warms you back as Alhaitham steadies the both of you on the ladder. 

He stares at you as he says, unfazed by what he’s done. “You almost fell.”

You push his arm away half-retorted. “I don’t need your help.”

You made it onto the ground, and Alhaitham descends soon after. His face frowns with a perplexed look. “Do you hate me that much? Why?”

“Would you like to know,”

“So, you hate me for no reason?” Alhaitham folds his arms. “How helpful.”

The nape of your neck is hot with anger. It brings you back to the Akademiya days when he would tell you how uncooperative you are with him. How he embarrassed you in private, or in front of other students. What he's been doing not only annoys you but questions your worth as a scholar. Something you fear your whole life. You can never be like him.

“I’m asking you again. Why do you hate me so much?”

Alhaitham says your name when you stay quiet. You hear him. You focus on your breathing yet your head’s spinning. He calls you again, a little firmer this time. Why can’t he shut up for once?

“Because,” you take a deep breath and eye away. “It’s because…”

Alhaitham approaches you, forcing you to look at him. He remains unfazed, a little angry. “Because what?”

You’re lost in your thoughts before you snap out of them. “Look, Alhaitham, can you leave me alone?”

You’re all ready to turn away when Alhaitham catches your wrist. He stares as if he’s ready for another round of argument with you. It’s always been like that between you and him. And you’re sick of it. Sick of dealing with him, being near him. His harshness doesn’t change. “Because what?”

“Because… you vexed me!”

You pull your arm free from him. Chest rises up and down as your breathing labours. You feel the surge of pent-up anger inside, thinking of you and Alhaitham back in the Akademiya years. It’s hard to let go, you don’t let it go. Of what he did to you back in days. Not a moment goes by where you’re in peace without the presence of him. “You are constantly looming over me. Always in my way at every chance, you can get. Picking fights me at every opportunity since our time in the Akademiya. You won’t stop leaving me alone. I had to switch specialities because of you.”

Your heart palpitates and it’s overwhelming. Your breathing is unstable, giving him a look of vexation. “You just can’t give me a goddamn break!”

Alhaitham’s eyes widened. When the quietness sinks in, you realise what you’ve done. You scoff in disgust; at him and also at yourself. The air around you stales at every second that passed. How did it get to this? How did you blow out of proportion? How did you let him get to you? Letting all that resilience you built in the past years shattered by this very moment?

It should have felt good telling how you feel about him for years. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t and you don’t understand why.

You step away, ready to leave and run away. But you can’t when his hand is on your arm. Alhaitham remains unfazed yet his grip is strong and you shoot him an annoyed look. The two of you stare at each other. Not saying much.

"And what do you think you do to me? Hm?"

Creases form on your forehead. "What I do to you… what does that suppose to mean?”

Alhaitham inches his face closer. You notice the colour of his eyes; turquoise with orange pupils. It reminds you of an ornamental gemstone and flickering flames and passion. It leaves you to wonder if his eyes have always been like that. Eye-catching and mesmerising. You keep that thought to yourself.

“When you lose control earlier at the meeting, it makes my blood boil,” Alhaitham confesses. “To be challenged by you. It perplexes me how far I can get you to see the inferno in you.”

His breath warms your mouth. You stare at his lips for a brief second and look back at his eyes. Alhaitham tilts his head, “you,” he whispers. “You’ve always been in my mind. Occupying every thought that I have.”

His eyes darted down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. You have a few words to say to him, but you can’t. Not with the distance the two of you are in. The way he looks at you. Studying your face to watch your reaction. Observing your eyes then travels down the lower half of your face. Your lips parted and he noticed that too. Your eyes flutter to lower your gaze.

You want to know what Alhaitham thinks. What he meant earlier of you in his thoughts. How could there be an attraction? You want to tell him to leave you alone, to stop looking at your face. Stop being so close to you, and stop paying attention to your mouth as if he wants to…

You do wonder how silky his lips could be.

“There is nothing between us. I hate you.”

You push him but Alhaitham catches them before you give him another one. His fingers curl onto yours and he reminds standstill to your protest. Even when you try to wriggle yourself free, his grip remains tight and takes a step closer to you.

“I hate you.” You can feel his face right in front even when you close your eyes. You want to look away, want to stop falling into the closeness. To not give in to the unspoken impulse you have had for him for years.

“I hate how attracted I am to you. I hate that I think about you all the time,” he confesses. Alhaitham brings his hand to your cheek. Trailing the side of your face with the back of his hand. He feels drawn away yet back to you. The urge to caress more than your skin makes his head spin. “It’s infuriating.”

The two of you are panting softly close to each other. You feel his lips inching close. What does Alhaitham think of this? What do you think of this?

Should you even pursue this unspeakable knowledge of what you feel for him?

You startle when Alhaitham’s lips are on yours. It feels as if you’re plunged into the waters when you find yourself returning his kiss. Your hands cup his face and whimper, and you hear Alhaitham’s subtle groans. He doesn’t hold himself back — you’re not holding yourself back either. Indulging from the invitations of each other’s lips repeatedly touching. It’s the building up of urgency pulsating in your mouth and you feel it on Alhaitham’s too.

Your back hits the wall and Alhaitham has you trapped against him. "You're the bane of my existence," he breathes. He goes at another brushing against your mouth. The object of my desires. You’re all I ever think about."

“Alhaitham…” You feel breathless. Cradling his face to halt him from resuming further, you try to catch on your breathing. But he resumes coming on you, moving to your right ear. You hiss lightly when Alhaitham tugs onto your lobule. His teeth graze the area that you surprisingly find sensitive. Feeling burned by the act as Alhaitham does a couple of gentle biting and nibbling.

You tread his grey hair between your fingers. Pulling his head closer and his body follows, trapping you in place. Alhaitham moves his lips down the side of your neck. Sucking and grazing your skin with his teeth and lips. You let out a little moan, tilting back your head. Alhaitham praises you; “that’s it, just like that.”

“Damn you,”

“Hmph,” Alhaitham makes a sound. He nibbles on a particular area on the neck’s jugular, and your moan is a little louder. Your skin feels hotter than ever and his lips are the cause of the ignition. “I want to study you,” Alhaitham continues to attack your neck. “To memorise every curve, mark, imperfections and perfection you have. You are mine to explore.”

He’s looking at you when you open your eyes. Lips parted by nothing comes out of him. Alhaitham reaches over his akasha terminal and dismantles it, letting it drop on the ground. He hovers his hand over your akasha, and looks at you briefly, watching your reaction. Hearing your protest, your command to tell him to stop. He would do anything you ask.

You say nothing but stare at him. Gazing at him. Alhaitham dismantles your earpiece carefully and it soon follows the same fate as his akasha. You glance down at his mouth, then back to him, and your head moves. There’s a brief hesitation before you plant a kiss on his lips. The worry disperses when Alhaitham takes your lips with his, soft-like and breathly warm.

The scary thing is that you do welcome the feeling.

It ignites a fire in your belly as you and Alhaitham are kissing in sync. Capturing each other’s lips with need. Alhaitham’s hands are on your hips, he grips tightly onto them whenever both your tongues dance. You can pull it down, you tell him. You step out of your shalwar trouser once he’s taken them off. Feeling bare in front of a man, no less to the man who you hate. But do you truly hate Alhaitham when you’re half-naked in front of him?

Alhaitham brings your hand over to his chest. Intertwining his fingers over yours, he helps you unclasp his coat to reveal his tight, black top and broad shoulders. You know that he’s well-built from the muscular biceps and how callous his hands are. Black and turquoise suit him and it doesn’t help that you think about it often as you admire his sculptured figure.

Alhaitham goes down on his knees and his face lines up to the centre of your legs. His lips are on your inner thighs, kissing and nibbling, making you squirm. You want to close the gap between your legs but he manages to have them apart and hold you. His hands are on the waistband of your panties but don’t pull it down as you hope. He gazes up to meet your eyes and for once, Alhaitham looks at you differently. You feel adored, and empowered like a goddess as you tower above him and he’s on his knees.

“Pull it down,” you tell him. Alhaitham follows your command, his fingers gliding down the sides of your thighs. You hear him heave and then pause. Alhaitham goes quiet and it begins to worry you. Does he not like what you have on your body?

“Beautiful,” Alhaitham says. Your cunt twitches. Stealing your breath away, Alhaitham slides his tongue between your folds.

“A-archons, Haitham,” you moan. You grip his hair when he circles your clit with his tongue. When he traces the slick on your folds with his finger, you tremble above him. It’s only when he puts a finger inside you that you let out a satisfying moan.

Trusting his finger in and out, adding a second finger in, then a third. Alhaitham tsked below you, “are you enjoying it so much? You’re sloping wet.”

“S-shut up,” you groan. You yelp with a jolt when Alhaitham pushes two of his fingers inside you. He massages your vaginal walls and it has you moaning repeatedly. There’s a certain spot that he keeps touching. You can’t help but feel the pent-up surge of pleasure coursing through. Alhaitham chuckles, “look at you thrusting your hips along with my hand. Never knew you enjoyed this much.”

You know that he’s smirking. But you’re too occupied to refute him, not with the way your moans are octaving despite trying your best to keep it low. Alhaitham’s hands shake under your thighs, holding them; “place one of your legs on my shoulder. Trust me.”

You barely can open your eyes but still follow his command. Lifting your left leg, Alhaitham guides them and places it onto his shoulder. His mouth comes into contact with your clit and folds, it has you twitching. One lick, then two, and another continuous more. You moan with your head tilting back, your hand running through Alhaitham’s hair.

“It tastes good on my mouth, baby,” He says. And when Alhaitham tastes you on his tongue in your cunt and eats you out, you can’t help but cry out for him. Pulling his face closer to you and feeling yourself tremble with pleasure.

You feel electrified when Alhaitham plants a kiss on your inner thigh before he gently sets your leg down. He stands up and lends to kiss you on the lips. A consuming, devouring kiss that made you breathless once Alhaitham pulls away. His forehead rests on you, panting softly matching your breathing. 

You tug his pants and look at him through your lashes, feeling a little bashful. Alhaitham unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants; his bulge is defined underneath the tights. It’s huge that has you staring at its shape. A little nervous yet aroused by his size.

Go on, Alhaitham whispers. Feel it, feel how hard my cock is just for you. You make me like this.

You almost choke at the sight when you free his cock from his briefs. The male anatomy is not a strange study to you, but Alhaitham’s anatomy is a whole different side of what you see. Nothing like you imagine but better in real life. The girth, the vein and the precum glistening on his velvety head have you filled with lust. Playing with the tip of its head with your thumb and stroking his cock with your hand, has him spinning.

There’s an unrecognisable growl in front of you. Alhaitham places his hand on the wall behind you, his jaw clenches as you continue playing with his cock “I can’t take it anymore,” he whispers on your temple. “I need to fuck in ways I dream of doing this with you.”

You’re pushed back to the wall when Alhaitham lifts you with ease. His hands are cupping your ass cheeks and his lips capture yours in heat. The tip of his cock close to your folds, waiting to be buried inside you. You grip the back of his hair as Alhaitham eases inside you; the two of you now join as one.

You fear that Alhaitham can hear your heart racing pressed onto him. He opens his eyes and sees you, then caresses the side of your face. “You take over my thoughts, make me lose my composure,” Alhaitham says. He rolls his hips at a leisurely pace, grinding against you, feeling his cock move and glide inside you. Alhaitham readjusts you in his hand and elevates you a little. “And now, I’m going to show you how much you drive me insane.”

You whimper, groan and moan as feel yourself dragged into peaking highs. Holding tight on Alhaitham, clawing his back. Going on a ride with him as your legs wrapped around his waist. Taking and accepting the pace he drives his hips onto you, his cock moving in and out. It feels like he’s experimenting with you, learning what kind of pace would be able to draw noises out of you. He goes slow and gentle, savouring the way your walls delicious grip his cock as he moves in and out.  Your body bounces with every thrust he gives you. Then, Alhaitham would speed up. Driving his member in a relentless rhythm, makes your brain scramble. 

“S-slow down,” you mewl. You feel your eyes roll, Alhaitham’s hands squeezing your rear cheeks. He has you burning in passion with his lips on your neck and sucking your skin and around your collarbone. Moving to your breasts that are still clothed, your nipple in his mouth. Alhaitham suckles loudly in your ears and you think it’s going to echo through the library.

“Not when you drive me crazy. Not when you — ugh — f-feel so good on my cock.” Alhaitham pants. You can’t help but groan in pleasure as he nibbles the skin of your breasts and continues to thrust into you. You feel yourself wanting to arch, despite the lack of space you’re sandwiched between the wall and him.

Alhaitham’s pace slows down when he begins to roll his hips, his shaft friction your clit. When he resumes his merciless pace, Alhaitham catches your mouth in a kiss.  Alternating between thrusting inside your cunt and up-and-down rocking on your clit.  Your head tilts back as you moan, feeling your peak of pleasure. You hold onto Alhaitham tightly and he groans, never stopping pleasing you. Your cunt milks on his cock as you come, and you’re thankful that Alhaitham has his face buried onto your shoulder.

“I’m going to—” Alhaitham couldn’t continue his sentence.  “Nearly there.”

You can’t think, only embrace yourself in the waves of pleasure. With one hard thrust, Alhaitham’s jaw tightened and at the same time, his finger goes between you and him. Circling and rubbing your clit. You didn’t think you would come stronger than the previous. And at the same time, you feel Alhaitham pulsing his come inside you.

The House of Daena falls in complete silence with subtle sounds of you and Alhaitham panting. Enjoying the embrace, the shared warmth of each other. You think you’ve calmed down and Alhaitham… his face hides in the crook of your neck. Your heart races, perhaps his heart is too, and Alhaitham still holds onto you tight.

He’s still joined inside you. Your brain scrambles, trying to piece what happened. You feel yourself holding your breath, realising what you did. What Alhaitham did. From bickering to having the most intense sex in the Akademiya’s library. Oh Archons,  you and Alhaitham did the unthinkable. Distress stirs in you and you can’t find yourself to say anything.

What have the two of you done?

THANK YOU FOR READING! DONATIONS OR GIFTS ARE WELCOME.

[vampiretendencies]

fiending for something, might just be a meaning

summary; jj’s earned the Godforsaken punishment.

warnings; angst, some fluff, reader questions a lot

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

a/n; requests are open & guidelines are posted, gif and divider creds to owner. proofread, but may have mistakes.

“she’s just been pissing me off lately more than usual!”

jj’s prominent raspy voice echoed unknowingly. a billowed porch adorning the whole of the apartment. an apartment that both you and jj intermediately held in the palms of your hands. you keeping one job and jj getting hired and fired by multiple— but still … you made it here nonetheless. savings bursted through all for this.

a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment. creme-colored walls, resembling that of softness. hard wood floors, perfectly polished and swept cleanly. jj known living off of john b wasn’t ideal for the rest of his life, nor did he really have a place to call home.

determination striked jj at an alarming rate he was determined to prove to you that he could do this—that he would take part in purchasing his own apartment. with the one and only person he’d even remotely think of sharing it with. he was determined to give light to you desires— the exact moment you’d both turned eighteen, dating two years checked off, getting you own place together was practically in the cards.

just the thought of, having you whenever, wherever, however he wanted you.

what his girl wants, she gets.

you were aware that you had him wrapped around your finger, which is why it was bombarding you thoughts.

why were you pissing him off?

what could you possibly have done?

you’d been sat in the open space that would be living room, legs spread enough for the large box to fit between them. a cardboard box filled to the brim with decorations that were yours, that’s your take the time out to purchase. wether it be online or in store, you made positive that this home would be something memorable.

you were both so fucking proud.

and didn’t care who knew it.

so why is jj complaining to pope and john b right now?

he had to be much more small minded than you’d thought or he just simply didn’t care that you were overhearing him speak ill of you. there wasn’t much to the apartment now, an air mattress in the living room and only small items for separate rooms— what fit in your car really. because the moving truck with nearly all thrifted furniture would arrive later in the week. a box for the kitchen with utensils, a box for the bathroom with necessities, and same for the bedroom only decorations.

seemingly so, you are doing all the work. you’d pulled the boxes out of your car, yourself. sorted through things, yourself. jj simply toured john b and pope around the apartment, boasting and what not. and for the past hour they have been outside fucking around like children. so no you weren’t pleased at first with jj’s actions, but your elation for your first home helped it subside.

but now you are searing with frustration.

that smug fucker knew exactly what he was doing, letting you do all the heavy lifting and prancing around without a care in the world.

you’d wanted to share the joy of your first home with him and sulk in it, rather than feeling ignored, used and thrown to the side.

and he the nerve to say you pissed him off.

the walls are thin and the porch is connected directly the living room past the screen door, so there’s no way he couldn’t have known you heard that. no way.

“that’s just how she’s been lately man, i don’t know,” john b wisely chimes in.

“every time i ask her something she snaps.”

jj continues, and then you begin to simmer with the fact that maybe he’s talking about another she or her. but there is no other she/her that’s annoyed him enough to tell john b or pope about it, you just couldn’t resonate as to who jj could be talking about. you’d decided that he was gossiping about you, putting two and two together it was the only thing that made logical sense to you. making you doubt that maybe this isn’t what jj wanted, maybe you moved to fast.

either way, if jj wanted to brush past you.

you were going to do the same.

shortly after, you assumed they were tired of hearing jj’s complaints with a mix of mosquitos attacking them. it is then that you hear jj say “it’s our first night apart jb, don’t cry though i’m a phone call away.”

it is then that jj earns a playful smack to the back of his head. hand on the door handle presuming that he was caught up in there dismissal, inches away from entering the apartment.

“i’m a phone call away,” you mocked under your breath. echoes of hearing bye y/n in the distance. john b and pope knew you could hear well enough to say goodbye, how couldn’t jj?

sheer stupidity you’d thought.

were you jumping to conclusions?

did you miss something?

kie hasn’t been around enough lately for him to be conversing of her?

little did you know he was talking about kie, jj had been going on about her since she got a new boyfriend and the pogues as a whole haven’t seen her enough lately.

so what then ?

your thoughts are interrupted by the crouching of jj in front of you, whilst you continued to peer down a particular piece decor. a photo, you were cradled into jj’s lap— he pretended to lick your beeming cheek, and you pretended to push him away as if you didn’t like it, though he actually did end up licking you. you sneered at it, eyes glazing over at your boyfriends insensitive comments.

“baby!”

jj had yearned for you the third time, he’s on the floor now- feet pressing against yours whilst he sat, leg length to fit the box between you two. mirroring your stature. his head it tilted, try to read your movements��� all you can muster is a glare towards jj.

intending on keeping your problems only, between the two of you. only.

what game is jj playing? was it that he wanted a place, and then waiting for the right moment to cut you loose?

“hm.”

you hummed, not willing to utter words. as the silent treatment is looming over him.

“alright, what’s the matter, you got that mean stare going on .. and it’s kinda hot i’m not complaining but ..” he trails off, hoping you would interject— performing hand gestures of surrender and all.

jj despised silence, and right now it’s thick and sauntering, he feels like he’s going to croak right here and now if you don’t say something. he sensed the change in your attitude the moment you didn’t greet him, in your usual cheeriness. the glint in your eye is gone, shoulders hanging low, lips pursed.

where did his baby go ?

jj longed to hear your saccharine voice. how your tongue would roll any time you talked, sometimes he thought you did it purposely just to have him aching uncontrollably for you. it was heaven sent, angelic and blissful, but it’s gone. and he’s desiring to hear the sensation. the way it rings beyond his ears and settles the entirety of his body.

“if i don’t know what’s wrong, i can’t help you baby.”

his manner was sweet, just above a whisper. living is not without you, so what would a world be living with his girl, if he could not live.

“then don’t”

you bite back, you’d normally feel guilty for even saying the slightest tragic word to jj. but you can’t help it, he’d said you pissed him off. so now you were going to give him a real reason to be pissed off. and since you were snappy in his eyes, you guaranteed to show him snappy. insulting you and then leaving the mess for you clean up. leaning your weight onto your hand, you aimlessly throw the picture frame back into the box, trailing to the sheet clad air mattress.

jj’s mouth ran dry, ashamed that he’s absolutely fucking clueless as to what he’s done this time. he ran the entire day through his head and couldn’t think of one thing he’d done wrong. he’d always been unfamiliar with how to deal with your moods, because he’s only known anger and fighting. and he’d be damned if he’d react that way with you.

he decided to let you have it.

maybe what you feel is valid, maybe not, but he knew better than to prod.

you’d wish there’d been a sofa here already, jj would be in for a sore back and no sleep tonight.

you aren’t that harsh .. maybe.

his lover, feet away, left him dumbfounded. he constantly avoided fights, and the fact that one has crept it’s way in he’s struggling to keep composure. falling to pieces at the seams.

besides the fact that’s it’s 8 pm, eternally meaning that you wanted nothing to do with jj. and he was aware of that simply removing your biker shorts that framed your figure so tastefully. you felt his eyes burning a hole in your back, whilst you crawled under the small throw blanket, facing the wall— knowing full well it wouldn’t be enough to keep you warm all night.

you should’ve just talked to him and all of this could’ve be solved … but you’d decided to be stubborn due to the running of jj’s mouth and the zero progress that was made in unpacking today.

his face was long, and there was a soft jut to his lip beginning to form. he followed you. a lost dog.

he didn’t even want to shower, because he could not bare it. he just needed to fucking touch you, he wanted your hands wandering his flesh as it would.

but he knows that you won’t.

he knows you.

jj has officially earned the damned silent treatment.

his holed up—green cargo shorts fall past his feet. sleeveless shirt thrown over his shoulder, landing God knows where. but what jj knew is that he was going to make certain that you speak to him. black boxers hugging his waste deliciously, he climbs in hoping for a miracle.

for all about five minutes jj keeps his distance, his side firm against the air mattress. your eyes are wide open— aligning the crème colored paint. though you aren’t facing him, you imagine the messiness of his blonde tousled locks and the sorrow in his crystal like eyes. jawline firm in distaste jj enters the flaming fire.

sneakily wondering his hand to your side, grasping it with besot and cravings. he squeezes it once to let you know he’s here and he squeezes it twice to let you know he needs you.

and you let him because you needed it too.

but you couldn’t accept it.

not after today.

you swat his hand away beneath the throw blanket, he wallowed in his last few touches as he slid his fingertips down your back.

the skin so velvet to the touch, tender and his.

it was his.

so he was defeated that he couldn’t have it.

“baby please, m’not gonna be able to sleep.”

he adjured, thirsting to even just kiss your hair.

but you never answered, and jj never slept.

spices of cinnamon filled your airway, your groggy mind pleased with the scent.

jj had something in mind to when you over, but not breakfast exactly. he was humming, a tune of pleasure playing from the speakers of his slim black iphone. jj walked to the closest store, mind racing pondering of all the possibilities of what would happen when he arrived home.

if you acted like that yesterday, who knows what he’ll get today.

the closest he’d gotten to you last night was an elbow in the rib cage, he’d hoped it was because of you being a restless sleeper and not that you were dreaming of mangling him in your sleep.

it took him all night to come up with his master plan, that you’d soon see.

the anthem grew louder and so did jj’s singing, a lyric of something about … “i don’t even mind sharing oxygen, i just wanna get lost inside your lungs”

rays of the sun burning furiously, blinds really need to be implicated immediately.

jj purposefully cut onion for an ‘omelet’, on a paper plate—the past week of fast food, the paper plates were a must.

jj didn’t know how to make a fucking omelet and the cinnamon roles were prepackaged … obviously, it’s jj.

but he has a plan.

he side eyed your figure, standing from the air mattress, after neatly folding the throw blanket back in its place. spaghetti strap showing him all of what he pleaded to see but couldn’t have. panties pulled aimlessly to your waist, and he had to muster the courage to control himself.

“good morning! my pretty girl! m’making you breakfast!”

jj echoes but you proceed to stick to not answering. trailed to the bathroom where yours and jj’s tooth brush accompanied one another on the granite counter top. mint tooth paste beside it. you load the tooth brush, suds covering your mouth as you continue to hear the cycle of jj’s broad voice.

but then a “ow! son of bitch!”

jj saunter, implicating a image of hurt as he leaned his head to the cabinets, unwilling to face the embrace that was definite to come. you spit out the therabreath that was once swooshing around in you mouth, turning the corner of the bathroom, and making a b-line towards the kitchen.

was he hurt ?

pain was perpetually something that you always tried to prevent jj from.

thought you haven’t done a willingly decent job, he deserved the scolding silence in your opinion.

but not now.

not when he’s like this.

“c’mere j! let me see it!”

your eyebrows knit together, whilst you battened with him to see his hand. yanking and pulling him towards the sink to get cool water on the possible cut.

kitchen knives and jj were not a match.

thankfully though the cinnamon rolls were merely one third into its cooking session, those would not burn, so to speak. and clip slovenly clasped your hair, spun around delightfully. he inspected you closely, praising that you were in arms length.

your hands hooked around jj’s wrist, his heart thumping with each movement.

God, his deep devotion for you grew by the second.

he releases his hand to you after constant pulling, and your eyes are met with nothing. absolutely nothing, not a cut, not a scratch, not even a scuff. nails long and trimmed and bits of his skin of the sides that he’d bitten the last time he was away from you for two days.

“you ass! you lied!”

a shit eating grin is plastered onto jj’s features, whilst you bore at him with you eyes in disbelief but also eminently surprised that he came up with that on his own. you still had reason to be fuming, but as night passed you faltered.

and even through the stubbornness, you still longed for jj.

he quickly throws his arms around you from behind, trapping you.

because even in an empty apartment you two were somehow still going to be conjoined.

“sure did baby, had to hear your voice.”

“well this is the last time you’re hearing it … bastard!”

“i still got you to talk to me.”

and at that you heart drowned pitifully, you went to bed irate over something that could’ve been resolved.

you huff at the truth spinning on your feet to face jj, he’d then caged you in against the coolness of the marble patterned kitchen counter. he mindlessly taunted you with his plump lips, despite yesterday. you still urged to feel him beneath your fingertips, to engrave in your mind that he was fine. you poked at his arms, squeezing about. until you were bellowing forward. slowly enfolding your mouth with his, and to much his dismay he obliged. hands settling about the small of your back, thumb circling just eager to taste you.

gotta stick with this plan more often, he thought

“fuck.”

jj mumbled, mouth roaming and moving angrily with yours.

“i fucking love you, baby”

he pressed into the kiss, he needed you to digest those words, taste them, feel them in your bones, make your knees crumble beneath you. trying to keep up with your pace he pushed you flush against him, wrestling with your mouth speedily.

“now do you want to know why you earned the silent treatment?”

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

For me, the award for character growth has to go to Jin Xiaobao. 🥇

I know Huai’en has developed so much with regard to emotions—it’s like night and day going back to the first episodes—but overall he’s still mostly the same person. He was always smart, and his moral code was always questionable at best because of his upbringing. The biggest difference there now is that he cares about Xiaobao and makes decisions based on what will hurt him. He’s still okay with watching things burn or sacrificing himself if it will help Xiaobao, though. Not a criticism, just an observation. It’s not entirely fundamentally different from the early Huai’en who said that the world beyond his father’s plans wasn’t his concern and fought like he had a death wish.

Xiaobao, on the other hand, is fundamentally different. He has changed at all levels of development. Hear me out.

At the start, he would throw his affections at anybody who caught his eye in the moment and was extremely fickle. Now, he has been told people will set him up with lovely ladies so he can start a family at least twice, but he doesn’t entertain the notion because he knows there are bigger priorities, like his illness and taking care of his family and friends. Given that one of those offers came at the height of his disdain for Huai’en, it’s unlikely that it boils down to simply being lovesick, though that’s surely part of it. He’s been burned badly by that fickle attraction of his this time, so he’s far more discerning about his priorities. He doesn’t leap back into a relationship with Huai’en; even finding out about him giving up his title and getting the emperor to pardon them sent Xiaobao running to warn him about the trap, not running into his arms. His forgiveness isn’t so easily won anymore because instead of acting on a whim, he’s setting aside emotions and willfulness to emphasize prior experience. He knows his emotions and how he acts on them don’t just impact him anymore, so now his willfulness is tempered by his sense of responsibility.

On the subject of emotions, they were also far less stable and more manipulative before. If he didn’t get the responses he wanted, he’d toss a small fit, and his emotions could be like a rollercoaster at times. (“Pour me some water,” anyone?) He even planned to use that tendency to convince his mother their relationship was all right by turning on the waterworks. Now, he’s far more stable even with everything happening to him. By all accounts, this guy should be an absolute mess. He should have flipped his lid when Que Siming insinuated that he wanted to take Jinbao away—permanently. Instead, he doesn’t fly off the handle at things and takes a moment to think rather than base his responses on assumptions, especially self-centered ones.

Speaking of, he’s not at all self-centered anymore. He has repeatedly made mention of the fact that he can’t be a spoiled young master forever and that there is no going back for him. When confronting his feelings about Huai’en, he mentions his parents now being impoverished and homeless before his own struggles; he even talks about Xiaoyu being taken away and glosses over any sense of betrayal in their relationship in favor of focusing on the general betrayal of taking the account book. Even in moments when he could be justifiably angry with Su Yin for trying to keep him from doing whatever he wants with regard to Huai’en, he takes a step back and seems to consider why Su Yin is doing all this. He doesn’t expect Su Yin’s approach to change with his emotions or whims, given how unreliable he knows those have been before, and tailors his arguments to make it about logic and reason instead.

Another segue! Intellectually, Xiaobao has grown so much. On two occasions, he’s had to ask people to basically use smaller words; he passed the brain cell around with Jinbao and Zhaocai and was quite happy to take custody of it as seldom as possible. He still has moments where he doesn’t pick up on things, like not knowing his idioms or Su Yin’s sarcasm about selling Jinbao going right over his head, but he thinks now. He’s so insulated and protected that sometimes he needs a hint to spark his suspicions, but he thinks. All Que Siming had to say was “dahlia” and “Yuxia,” and Xiaobao was able to put together that something in Su Yin’s story didn’t add up. For someone who was teased about not understanding when he asked what Prince Li wanted Su Yin to return to Annan for, he’s repeatedly put together the intricacies of court politics in light of Huai’en’s identity and Su Yin’s plan with Shaoyu. His reaction is a culmination of all the aforementioned changes: not self-centered enough to make it about him even when he knows it really is, not overly emotional enough to be angry about it when he has plenty of reason, and smart enough to know how to address it in conversation. (Does it stop Su Yin from knocking him the hell out because he didn’t come this far for his little brother to hop back into what he perceives to be an abusive relationship? Nope, but you can see that it still means something to Su Yin to hear him speak that way all the same.)

I’m excited to read the book because a story like this really can’t be fully told in twelve episodes, but as far as his portrayal in the series goes, Xiaobao gets the gold medal in development for me. All of the characters have grown immensely from the start, but for me, Xiaobao is the one who has become the most well-rounded as a person through his experiences—including those unrelated to his relationship with Huai’en. He’s still the sunshine boy, but he knows when to rise and set now rather than burning himself and everyone around him out.

[noctvrnal9999]

Ascended Astarion, Cazador Szarr and how they are NOT alike (at all)

Some of you probably saw this coming already, that I would go out of my way to talk about the whole "Ascended Astarion is Cazador 2.0" thing because it's such a ridiculous notion. Here it is, my personal take on why I disagree.

First and foremost I will address the whole: "Oh my GOD Astarion follows the Four Rules right from the beginning!" mindset. Here they are, the rules as Vellioth passed them down onto Cazador:

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.

Second, thou shalt obey me in all things.

Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.

Four, thou shalt know that thou art mine.

Rule one is pretty obvious - don't drink blood of thinking creatures. That's one of the tools Cazador used to keep his Spawn subservient and demoralized. We don't get any in-game information that Cazador went back on this rule in any instance whatsoever, seems it was very much set in stone for him. Ascended Astarion (which I will shorthand to AA from this point on) breaks this rule the moment he Ascends with his Blood Bride/Groom. Not only he gives player character his blood (willingly, I will mention), he speaks also about drinking PC's blood and they drinking his:

Already breaking the very first rule he himself had to obey for two centuries. And in-game mechanics support this of course, PC can use Bite action on anyone who is not classified as undead (like Astarion, for example, PC can freely chomp on him if they wish so).

Rule two is also obvious - Cazador compelled his Spawn through his bond as their master. That is evident in the scene where Astarion's siblings attack the camp:

They have no choice but to obey Cazador's command even if they struggle. The only reason Astarion is free because of the tadpole. We could apply same logic to Bride/Groom PC, that Astarion cannot compel PC only because of the tadpole. However, PC can ask Astarion about this:

To which he replies:

The implication here is that he thinks he can compel PC but he's choosing not to. Now, whenever you subscribe to the theory I presented before that he can't compel PC and is lying or not, it's up to you, but if we're taking this line at face-value only it's very very clear - AA is not going to compel PC, to him it's a ridiculous idea (Why would I need to?). He trusts that PC and him are on the same page (and personally I read the second part of his sentence as being cheeky, but maybe that's just me.)

Rule three, just like first two, is simple and easy to understand - don't leave your "master" unless directed. Cazador sent out his Spawn to lure victims for two hundred years, however, Astarion, if we believe he can compel PC, is not even attempting to make PC stay by his side (or send them away, for that matter). All he says is this:

And this is in conversation about not being able to walk in the sun, which is about his newfound powers being extended to PC. Nothing in any dialogues (that I can remember) suggests that he commands PC to stay by his side. The only such dialogue option appears in the epilogue (keep in mind that epilogue was added later) and if you legitimately argue with AA (I would never do it but there's some crazies out there, stay safe xoxo) but to be completely honest you can ask for your freedom:

To which he replies:

Even if we take this as "daunting" as some people portray it to be, we still see AA acting more like a brat-tamer than a cruel master Cazador has been. Try putting these lines into Cazador's mouth and tell me they work lol.

Rule four is self explanatory. And this one we can definitely apply to AA. From the moment of Ascension he insists confirming to PC that well, they are his, but he also emphasizes that he is theirs in turn (if blood drinking line is anything to go by). Vampires by nature are possessive, it makes sense that AA feels the need to speak about it. PC is the only person he ever loved, now he's expressing that love, albeit maybe a tad intensively (according to some).

But on the flip side, where AA can be seen as possessive as Cazador, AA does 180 and shares his power and status with PC. There's an incredible amount of lines in the game where he speaks about being equals, sharing power and standing side by side, unlike Cazador.

And these are just couple from same conversation, there's so many more, but pay close attention how many times he says "we" or "you and me". PC is not just a spawn to him, not someone to be controlled but a true equal, sharing power, wealth and goals.

Which leads me to another point that needs addressing and emphasizing - AA is still a vampire, just like Cazador. Yes, these two creatures are power-hungry, that's in their nature, in any vampire's nature. I'll draw attention to the fact that even as a Spawn, Astarion is hungry for power and freedom. Once he has freedom, his goal still remains power. While Cazador's goal was to become Ascendant, AA's is well, world domination, basically. He surely has the time if not power to try and achieve that. However, this doesn't make him "just like" his former master, it just makes him a vampire.

And let's not forget that even before becoming a vampire Astarion was already power-hungry, which is clear from his choice of career as a Magistrate. Albeit a far shout from world domination, he still sought positions of power even while alive.

So to summarize before this becomes too lengthy - AA is simply a vampire. Not a reflection of his former master. They share some traits because they belong to same caste by the end of Astarion's personal quest, but that doesn't make him any more similar to Cazador than any other Vampire Lord or even Strahd.

Simply put - AA is a monster. Vampires are classified as monsters and they are Lawfully Evil aligned in DnD. Just because he has unpleasant traits, it doesn't mean he took them from Cazador. It just means that he has unpleasant traits. Make the man accountable for his own flaws (or just generic vampire traits), after all, as Ascendant, I'm sure he take it :)

[iamfuckingsorry]

i'm sorry but like. i played the game for the first time like a month ago (and it absolutely wrecked me, it was beautiful), and i just can't stop thinking about this and i need to get it out. but like, kim, what the fuck is the deal with kim?

like, he's just such a weird little man with such a weird little collection of character traits, but also he's just so fucking perfect.

like, kim. he spent 15 years being a cop in a department he fucking hated but he just stuck it out. he is so done with teens he basically refuses to speak to them unless he absolutely has to, but he still spent 15 fucking years in that section, refusing to give up. he's proud to be a revacholian and to protect the city now, but did he feel this way when he joined the RCM? or did he join to prove to everyone that even a monkey fucker like him could be revacholian? or did he join because he got kicked out of the orphanage he grew up at and didn't have anywhere else to go? or was there a different reason altogether?

and look at him now. he's presumably one of the best cops in his precint (i'm sure he mentions something about this early on in the game but i honestly can't remember), and one that seems to mostly play fair and genuinely care, which doesn't seem to be that common at all. and he's proud of this and strives to always be professional and calm and collected even if he doesn't always fully manage. he keeps himself in check first and foremost, and seems to try to keep everyone at an arm's length and not engage in personal discussions, even though he will often indulge harry if directly asked.

and so far it all makes sense, right? he's been treated like shit all throughout his life, dealt a fairly shitty hand, an orphan, an immigrant, a homo, possibly visually impaired (has he always needed glasses? was he able to get them as a broke-ass kid with no one to speak on his behalf? or did he grow up never able to see properly, struggling in school because he could never read the board or react in time when people threw shit at him, made fun of by both teachers and classmates?), mocked and ridiculed, and he's had to fight hard to get to where he is now. and he desperately needs to keep it this way, so he works hard and sticks to the rules and keeps his distance from people, and he puts a stop to everyone and everything that people could make fun of (no, harry, you will /not/ call me kimball, you will call me Lt kitsuragi, no, harry, you will /not/ tell anyone about the ice bear fridge, i will /not/ be known as the ice bear cop). but he's also mostly a genuinely nice and compassionate person and he really cares, as long as people are at least trying to do good.

but also…

he basically wears period cosplay to work. like. for real, he clearly wears his fucking pilot jacket so often that having the RCM insignia sewn onto it was the most logical choice. he is so obviously into planes and cars (but he's too blind to be a pilot :), do you think he used to hate himself as a kid not only because he was poor and abandoned by everyone and "an immigrant" but also because not even his own fucking body would let him be what he wanted to be), he has an extremely expensive vehicle that's his, his only, and not even really needed for the stuff he does at work the majority of the time. he clearly had to have a chat with his boss at some point in time and justify this purchase and why the car should be permanently assigned to him and him only, and even if i'm sure he had a bunch of actual reasons you can't convince me that his boss and all of his colleagues weren't all aware that really, he just wanted a fast fucking car and had an excuse to get it. and clearly the higher ups like him enough to indulge him, because surely no one would be actually fooled? why would a crime investigator get it and not, like, the fucking traffic guys chasing drunk drivers and illegal racers every night?

and like, in some ways he fucking owns it, doesn't seem to give a fuck, he's who he is and if people don't like it that's not his problem. but he's also embarassed about listening to that fucking radio station. but he also drives a sports car and wears driving gloves and a pilot jacket, of course he's listen to that fucking radio station. but then he also does newspaper crosswords. like, he seems to put a into maintaining this facade of professionality, but he also really doesn't fucking care when it comes to a lot of the stuff, it's great. except for the extremely random stuff that he does care about and can get extremely flustered about momentarily.

and it feels really out of character in a way. he works so hard on keeping himself in check at all times, representing the RCM in a good light and making sure both him and others get treated with the respect they deserve. he smokes one cigarette a day to keep proving to himself he can keep his vices in check, for fuck's sake. but then it's like he just picked one (1) part of his personality where he just went like, fuck it. Fuck it, I work hard for this shit and I deserve to do what I want sometimes too, and this one fucking thing is innocent enough and safe enough, and I don't give a fuck, I deserve /one fucking thing/ and I'm gonna get it. I'm getting the goddamn jacket and the Kineema and if people have a problem with that, they can go fuck themselves. I /need/ this one thing and I. Am. Getting. It.

(it's clearly a big part of his personality, but do you think there were other massive interests in the past, or maybe there still are others he isn't as open about with? Things he thinks would undermine his career and reputation? Past hobbies he abandoned because if anyone found out, that would be the end of his career at the RCM, even though for anyone else who wasn't a stupid fucking immigrant who can't even see right it would be a funny little detail?)

anyway.

i'm just like. stay the way you are, my weird little man. you're great.

[sgiandubh]

Lights, camera, shit show

I was just cleaning my OL folders (all those Chinese paintings and scrolls do take a horrendous amount of space, heh) and I just stumbled upon something I completely forgot to share and discuss with you. I found this particular article during my solitaire lurking months and I remember being befuddled by it for a long time, then thought I've lost it for good.

I don't remember ever seeing it shared or discussed in here, either and if, by any slim chance, I am wrong, kindly forgive me. That professional website is now closed, but its content is still available to browse:

Anyway, there goes: https://www.studiodaily.com/2018/06/outlander-dp-stephen-mcnutt-asc-csc-saucy-scottish-show/

We discussed Terry Dresbach and her inebriated rants, Vanessa Woman's devastating impact on set as Intimacy Coordinator, RDM's jealousy and many other aspects of life on the OL set. Rumors likely to have originated there peppered our shipping trail like flickering lights in a sea of darkness. So yes, we dissected these things to death. But not Stephen McNutt's interview to Studio Daily, on June 22, 2018 - please keep in mind the date, it is essential!

Stephen McNutt is a well-established professional and a member of the American Society of Cinematographers (ASC) and the Canadian Society of Cinematographers (CSC), as he hails from British Columbia. He also has a consistent track record of previous work with RDM, both on Battlestar Galactica and Caprica (its prequel). Therefore, one has to immediately suppose he was handpicked and brought on set by the same RDM, of course: set a very low bar on your expectations, I am warning you.

By the grace of RDM, he was one of the main Directors of Photography for OL during Seasons Two and Three. IMDb is not the best source for corroborating things, because they credit him with 13 episodes in Season Two (including La Dame Blanche- he is the Blue Room guy!), but only one for Season Three (First Wife), which is completely wrong. I even had to check some opening credits on Netflix (at reduced speed, ugh), because he speaks at length of A. Malcolm, something that would have made little sense otherwise. He was there, of course: and his is a first-hand account, heavily loaded with both innuendo and TPTB bullshit, up to the point of complete incoherence.

We focus on the three final questions:

This is a study in bullshitology, right here. The question asked is very clear and very technical: how did you approach those famous love scenes?

The answer is a mumble jumble of retcon, deflections, slips and overall impossible scramble for a logical explanation. I am doing a line by line, because this is almost too good to be true:

'(...) But as far as Cat and Sammy making love (...)' : um, hello and excuse me, I thought the question was about Jamie and Claire?!? And then we are delusional and can't fucking separate, when your own henchman, the Director of Photography no less, seems to be totally unable to do so, too? Hello? Also: 'Sammy'? 'Sammy'? What. The. Total. Fuck, and I LOLed then and I am still LOLing now. Terms of endearment overheard on set - but no, here comes the 'friendship' shite, hitting the narrative fan with Mach 5 speed. Objective? Explaining in a plausible way the hugging and 'keeping warm'. And I am sorry, but this begs the question: what the hell did this man see on that set? And how many people did see the same, hence the need to release such a gratuitous lie, for pure retconning purposes?

'They are not an item at all - I think she just got married'. Oh, fuck my life, man: you are such a terrible, terrible liar! Remember, that interview was taken in June 2018: after the OZ EFH and just about when C. was gleefully answering 'oh, God forbid!' every time she was prompted by press about her marriage plans. How can somebody with a pretty high trophic level and personal rapport to both S and C be totally unaware about C's marital status at the time? How can a long time acquaintance and coworker of RDM say no both to a friend and to a current boss (same person, the worst case scenario) asking for a favor, in that particular context? It also goes to prove that the shit show plot mainlines never originated with S and C and that the Remarkable Week-end was already planned for quite some time. By TPTB. With the full knowledge of RDM.

Let's suppose Mr. McNutt was so deeply engrossed in his work as not to notice all the people who must have congratulated C on set. I mean, I know who our (spinster) colleague from Accounting is currently banging and that guy is (mercifully) not among our staff (I totally wish them well, btw). Maybe because nobody congratulated C on that fakegagement? Also, you know them well enough to confidently say 'they are not an item', but don't know she was not married at the time and state an enormity with the same confidence? What in the name of the hoo-ha did I just read, here?

'I was always in such amazement of that.' In amazement of exactly what, Mr. McNutt? Surely not a woman holding hands or keeping warm with her gay co-star on set, huh? I mean, I need the best American English dictionary, here:

Again: what the heck did this man see? What comments did he hear? Surely, 'amazement' is a very precise choice of wording, with particularly enlightening synonyms:

Hence the need to end the demonstration with a deflection: 'They would just have fun.' You know, there is no such thing as a virgin whore, Mr. McNutt: you either are in such astonishment or you think your pals, good old S and C, such a funny girl, were having, well... 'fun', what else? You can't logically have both in the same paragraph!

And there we go: 'a very collegial atmosphere on set'. The answer is pure fool's gold, if you ask me: 'Nobody goes to sit in a trailer or says they aren’t showing up that day. '

And I laughed. And I laughed. And I laughed. I really don't know what this man is talking about. I never heard McTavish telling S to get out of that trailer ('nephew'). I never read the 'two very loved-up birdies' in a trailer a-rockin' Anons. I never watched that 2015 Anglophile SDCC interview, when S mentioned listening in their shared trailer to Erasure's Oh, l'Amour and C immediately reacted ('oh, did you just admit to that?'). But unlike me, McNutt must have been legally bound by a big cojones Non-Disclosure Agreement and morally bound by loyalty towards RDM, his friend, boss and benefactor.

This. All of the above. This is the real reason for all the bullshit you've just read: explaining a real, shocking love story by socially progressive regulations, allowing the cast to be 'much more happy'. I would laugh some more, if this was not sinister and cruel, in fact.

It is Love. A deep, strong one. But the seeds of the adverse narrative were planted early and deep, forcing even decent people like this guy to lie and smear himself a bit in the process. What we see and hear now are but better worded and more refined consequences of that fateful January 2016 morning in LA. And since I am allowed the dubious luxury only a healthy distance in time allows, let me remind you a simple, fun fact about this interview who stated they were never an item:

About ten months after McNutt uttered these words, the fandom was hit by the Covfefe Pics.

I rest my case.

[nuri148]

My Take on Levi's Age

I originally wrote this as a rb addition to another post. I've been meaning to make it a stand alone post since then, and with all the talk about Levi's age since the publication of bad boy, here it is, finally.

If you ask me, Levi could not have been more that 4-5 years old at the time Kenny found him around 829.

Why?

He's severely malnourished, probably spent several days cloistered in the room with Kuchel with nothing to eat. So my guess is that, though he was old enough to speak and understand Kuchel was dead (even if he could not quite grasp the bigger concept of Death), he was too young to go out and procure himself and his mum some food, be it by stealing or begging. And for that, he's need to be very young.

I lived in Greater Buenos Aires more than half of my life (the infamous "conurbano"), and I've seen lots of very small kids, 4-5 years old, begging like pros for either change or food. It's unfortunately very common in impoverished areas. And I wasn't even in the bad ones. So, in that aspect, the Underground wouldn't be different from our villas or Brazil's favelas.

Kuchel was a prostitute. She wouldn't want Levi to witness her at work. It is fair to think that as soon as he was old enough to cross the street she'd let him roam and go play with other kids while mummy's busy. There, he'd quickly learn how to come by a piece of moldy bread to stave hunger.

So in order to just sit starving by his mother instead of going out looking for help, Levi must have been young enough that his mum could still keep him under wraps; too young to know his way about the Underground's streets, too much of a rookie in terms of using his charm or his cunning to get a bit of food.

Uri Reiss inherited the Founding Titan in 829. BUT, nowhere does it say that Kenny's encounter with Uri happens right after the latter became a titan. So Kenny might have joined Uri up to a couple of years after 829 (not many, as Rod Reiss still looks young in that flashback).

So Kenny finds Levi between 829 and 831; And Levi is 4-5 then, meaning he was born, at earliest, in 823 (considering his b-day is only one week before the year's end, that'd make him 5 in for most of 829) and latest in 825 (same if Kenny found him in 831). That makes him 10-12 years older than Eren and company. , ~20 when he joins the SC, ~26 during seasons 1-3, ~30 after the time skip, and ~33 in the epilogue.

"But Yams said he was thirty-somethiiiing!"

TLDR: I wouldn't consider canon some spur-of-the-moment answer given by Yams in a panel where he's probably tired, nervous, and doesn't have his timeline handy.

Allow me to speak here as a writer: the whims of your imagination often don't align with the logic of what needs to go on the page. So it is perfectly possible to imagine your character in a way that is inconsistent with your timeline. You see them with short hair and summer clothes fixing lunch in their sunny kitchen in a scene and, when they move to the dining room you see them with hair 4 inches longer and serving supper as a snowstorm rages outside. When you write it, you're going to have to pick up one, and go back to your notes often for continuity after, bc your brain keeps forever placing the kitchen in sunny summer and the living room in a winter night. Oh, and they're both simultaneously on the ground and the second floor. Escher pictures make more sense.

The story of AoT spans many years, so we don't know which year Levi is the default Levi in Yams' brain. It could even be the Levi from the time skip, or from a future after the last chapter that only exists in his imagination. Also, Yams has bungled up numbers before so, personally, I don't trust him much in that department.

In any case, Math is a hard science, so if Kenny found Levi with 4-5 years in 829, he can't be 30+ in 850. 5+21=26. No matter what Yams says.

Additional notes:

The original post. With additions. I recommend reading the quoted twitter thread.

Another, recent twitter thread on Levi's age

A lengthy post by an actual psychologist providing scientific foundation for Levi's age when Kenny finds him.

I saw yet another post on Levi's age recently, but I can't find the link rn and I have to make lunch. if/when I find it, I'll add it (and others I may come across)

[genericpuff]

So I just read episode 275 and I’m sort of confused?

(I took screenshots, but the ask won’t let me include them so) At the end of the episode Hera summons these little balls of light(?) , maybe small stars(?) and then she casts them down onto Kronos.

I feel like that was really anticlimactic and not illustrated well. Along with the viewer not seeing Hera fight Kronos, a God that’s been tormenting her, her last attack(?) doesn’t feel right — like, there’s no power behind, if anything, I’d compare it to what a healers animation in a game looks like.

Rachel even emphasizes how strong and brilliant Hera is with Persephone, but then doesn’t show us anything. I know the scene was split between Hera and Hades dealing with Kronos physically and mentally (asleep), but it was sort of disappointing.

What I think really sucks about the setup for the Hera vs. Kronos fight is that, as cool of a concept as it is to have Hera and Hades both fighting Kronos in separate timelines, it fails on multiple levels:

1.) All the build up of Hera saying "I was created to destroy you" winds up meaning nothing because it cuts away to Hades for the entire fight

2.) When it does cut back to Hera, she's just kinda... sitting on Kronos? Like what did she do besides just breaking one of his fingers? Why weren't we allowed to see that? I think this is more so clearly Rachel's inability to write/draw fight scenes showing through, so she relied entirely on the Hades' sequence which was less physical fighting and more just Hades monologuing before turning Kronos into a diamond.

3.) And speaking of the diamond thing... so we're just expected to believe Hades could turn not just people, but Titans into diamonds? This whole time? How is he just suddenly able to do this? It feels like a shonen anime where the main character has a flashback to a scene from 3 seconds ago (in this case, Hades' conversation with Melinoe) and then unlocks a new special ability through it, but it somehow feels even less earned than it does in anime (and trust me, I can't stand that anime trope at the best of times LOL) Like at least in something like Naruto it's like... okay we have this ability Naruto's been trying to master and we've seen him work at it for a few episodes so seeing him finally nail it on the brink of defeat is like, really hype and fun. But Hades just turns Kronos into a rock out of nowhere when we had zero reason or build-up to believe that would ever be possible. Why not, IDK, have Morpheus finally master her ability to dream dive and use that to trap Kronos in an eternal sleep? At least that would have had some pre-existing foundation especially with how much of S3 was focused on the dream diving shit. IDK, the whole thing's really contrived and silly and relies a lot on the reader just going "okay! yeah that makes sense!"

4.) So Hades turned timey-wimey Kronos into a diamond... but then it cuts back to present Kronos who's just been somehow defeated by Hera through ✨magic✨ and that's just it? What about present Kronos? Is he just still trapped in Tartarus now? Why isn't he also a diamond if Hades turned some past form of Kronos into a diamond? Or was the goal just to free Melinoe so present Kronos couldn't keep using her powers? But who's to say Kronos can't just do what he did again by reaching through time to grab Melinoe and start the whole thing over again? Especially now that Melinoe doesn't remember what happened and would be none the wiser that Kronos has attempted this before? Is it because this is present Kronos whose time abilities were 'exhausted' to him 'long ago'? Then how was he able to pull Hades into the time-bowl to begin with? Again, just like the diamond thing, this entire conflict relies a lot on readers just shrugging and accepting it because there's zero foundation for the concepts that are being portrayed and thus zero logic besides "just go with it".

I can go on and on about it but at the end of the day LO just isn't a comic that should have attempted having any big Marvel fight scenes. This is an issue in a lot of romance comics that have gone on too long, they start to lose the plot around their third season and then just throw everything out the window for some other big plot that makes no sense within the context of the story. Somehow LO, a Greek myth fantasy adaption, made fighting the God of Time seem out of place and boring.

God I can't wait for Hades 2.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

The Missing Ingredient

Tonight I was casually rereading the chapters that are about to be adapted in the anime when something hit me, and now I have to talk about it ASAP even if it’s not fully fleshed out. You’re getting insomniac-Lin this time, folks.

So. Chapter 304, the one where Izuku finally gets to speak with the vestiges while he’s unconscious in the hospital, has bugged me since the day it came out. I couldn’t articulate it, but something about the way OFA was explained felt like conjecture, or like it was made up on the fly. Idk, it just seemed kinda weak. The detail that I think gets overlooked is that this “lore” is, in fact, conjecture. All Might’s, specifically. It’s his research and logical assumption that led to the conclusion that quirkless people are the only ones able to handle OFA. But we can and should consider the explanation given in 304, that whole business with the overflowing chalices, to be unreliable narration. It is simply a somewhat educated guess.

Like I said, I’ve thought this for a while, but I wasn’t able to get any further with it. Tonight, I went over it again, and I asked myself: other than the fact that All Might was quirkless, what else makes him different from his predecessors? All Might specifically compared himself to the 4th, the one who died of old age, so I did the same. Well… the only other thing about the 4th that stands out is that he spent his life totally alone. This fact is emphasized clearly, and yet, it’s significance is hiding in plain sight: what if the isolation is what killed him?

Thematically, this story has established the dangers and damaging effects of isolation many times, from All Might’s lonely career, to the Todoroki family’s dysfunction, to society’s abandonment of the villains, to Izuku’s misadventures as a solo act. I could go on, but the point is, we are led to see that people become their worst selves when they are alone. Horikoshi has drilled this idea so deeply into the way I analyze bnha that I now look at the 4th and see that he epitomizes the flaw of self-isolation. He kept well hidden and he devoted himself to training, but in the end it wasn’t enough. What is enough? Why is Yagi Toshinori still alive to this day despite the fate Night Eye saw for him? Unless you believe he’s still bound to die, which I don’t, then there’s one simple reason: Izuku. It wasn’t only All Might who changed Izuku’s life, but also the other way around. Because of Izuku, Toshinori gradually regained his sense of purpose and drive, his very will to keep living even when “All Might” was long gone. Because of their bond, he is given the gift of a life beyond passing the torch of OFA. That in itself is something no previous OFA user has ever had before. THAT, if you ask me, is what sets him apart. So what does that say about OFA?

Let’s backtrack for a second. Chapter 304 also directly states that OFA drastically changed about four months prior:

I think we can accept this as reality because it’s just an observation, BUT. What’s odd is it’s left without a “why.” As in, why did it change? Was it simply the “right time?” Was there a trigger? Was it a milestone of Izuku’s strength? No definitive explanation is offered. I decided to look back on “four months ago” and see if I could pick up on anything. Of course it’s referring to when Izuku first had a vision of his predecessors in a dream, and when he unlocked blackwhip—but again, no one knew “why now?” I found that the progress made in this arc is actually nicely summarized in chapter 257:

Here we see that Izuku finally feels like he has a place in the world and a true connection with people he cares about, specifically with Toshinori and Katsuki. Incidentally, this is also the chapter where we learn that the previous OFA users all died young, and it ends with Toshinori talking about what it means for him to keep living. It’s no longer about “helping” in the way he used to as a hero, but just being there for others as a person. So the growth of OFA coincides with Izuku’s developing relationships.

The logical assumption that I’m now going to make is that Toshi’s consciousness in the OFA realm exists because of the connection he forged with Izuku. His fire-y spectral presence is not a vestige at all, not even remotely the same thing as the other previous users, which are only there because of their quirk factors. They are more like memories of people, whereas Toshi’s is a manifestation of a living soul. Still, we would be led to assume it only forms within OFA because Toshinori himself once had the quirk. However…

Katsuki is involved now too. And I don’t think we can claim he is a previous OFA user since Heroes Rising is only loosely canon and the transfer was never completed anyway. Rather, like Toshinori, Katsuki is a deeply important person in Izuku’s life, and that apparently is enough. Since Toshinori normally has a slight psychic connection to his OFA manifestation, my guess is Katsuki also had this vague sort of sense, and maybe a ghostly manifestation of his own, but in his current near-death state, that signal is strengthened to the point where he is fully aware and present inside OFA. As for the reason he’s in a separate setting to the vestiges, and Toshinori’s manifestation is also there, it’s like a Venn diagram. The previous users are in one place, living people closest to Izuku are in another, and Ghost Toshi can go between them because he is both, the overlap of the Venn diagram. Regardless of these technical details though, I think the clues point to the idea that OFA grows from and is meant to be used by someone who is interdependent and has supportive relationships, while isolation causes it to behave like a parasite. The concept also lends itself well to OFA affecting/providing power to others, namely Katsuki, if one is so inclined to those theories. Where I’m at right now, I just think OFA and its wielder have finally gained something they’ve been missing all along. But Izuku still has to fully embrace that.

[astromechs]

can I get washing their hair for rebelcaptain? 🥺

fun fact, i received these two asks within about an hour of one another, so great minds really do think alike. anyway, since the other two were heavier, went with something really, really stupid for this one 💕 from this list; still accepting! (and this is now also available on ao3, just like the other fills)

“He does this on purpose,” Jyn grumbles, because she’s too fucking furious for more than a grumble. Well, that and she can’t exactly manage anything else in her current position, head tipped with water-soaked hair obscuring most of her field of vision, palm pressed flat against the shower wall to keep her steady after having to remain like that for so long, but her point still stands.

Could anyone really blame her for being furious? She knows fucking intent when she sees it. There’s no way that a droid with a self-professed “specialty” of strategic analysis hadn’t mapped out what her route around base would likely be today, and there’s no way that he hadn’t been ready with a whole fucking vat of oil in his stupid fucking mechanical hands to drop it over her at just the right fucking moment.

It’d been completely uncalled for, too. So what if she’d cut the power to Kay’s favorite docking port last week and forced him to spend an entire night cycle trapped next to that astromech he hates so much? That had hardly been worth this much torture — and she’ll probably never be able to wear that shirt or vest ever again; they’d practically had to be sliced off of her.

No, there’s a difference between justified retaliation and crossing a line, and Kay had passed that line by a fucking parsec, so he’s the one who’s clearly in the wrong here. That’s her position, and she’s sticking to it.

It’s a position that any reasonable person with sense would agree to, so it’s one that Cassian, logically, will.

But when the hands that have been messaging her scalp still and his response comes, it isn’t an agreement. No, instead, it’s, “He doesn’t mean it,” said in the tone she absolutely hates the most: the one that’s mildly neutral, that comes with the mask he puts on when she knows he doesn’t want to engage with something.

Fuck. For a brief amount of time, she’d actually managed to forget that the person who’s been standing in the shower with her for the past standard hour at least, helping her wash her hair, is the one who’d be the least fucking objective possible on this issue.

If she could turn around, she’d raise an eyebrow and give Cassian her best are you fucking kidding me stare, but since she can’t, she resigns herself to heaving a long, frustrated sigh, one she makes sure can be heard over the running water.

He doesn’t respond for a while, opting instead to continue with his task of rubbing another round of shampoo into her hair. If he were doing this for any other reason, it might feel nice — part of her has been halfway to thinking it at least three times over the past standard hour before she’s stopped herself, because even with the difficulty of what he he’s had to work with, he’s never been too harsh with his touch — but he’s not here for those reasons, and so his silence is annoying. HIs silence leaves her no choice except to try for the sigh again, and really mean it this time.

Eventually, after that, he speaks up again, with a sigh that’s almost as heavy as hers. “I’ll tell him to call it off.”

Finally. Had that been so fucking hard?

To her credit, and she really tries for this, she does her best to leave out that sentiment when she tells him:  “That’s all I’m asking —”

“ — If you also call it off.”

Seriously? Her first instinct is to roll her eyes, which she does, and then her next is to open her mouth for a counterargument, which she also does, only nothing comes out of it. Because maybe, just maybe, she can concede that she’d crossed a line, too, and had provoked something that hadn’t really been worth provoking. It’s just been so quiet, and when things are too quiet, she turns twitchy and restless, and —

She can swallow her pride, even if it means doing so while gritting her teeth.

“Fine.” She guesses she should probably sound less like she’s gritting her teeth, though, so before she elaborates, she takes a beat. “I’ll leave his stupid docking port alone. Will that make him happy?”

Pressed against her, she can feel Cassian lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Happy enough.”

Because she knows him, Jyn can tell, just from his voice, that the beginnings of that stupid smug smirk he likes to flash at her sometimes are there, forming.

Only the shower wall will see, but she scrunches her face and glowers at it with everything she has.

“Fuck you,” she says, though, despite her efforts, she doesn’t manage to inject any real heat into it. “I heard that.”

“Heard what?”

She thinks: she should be annoyed; she should curl her free hand into a fist so that it’ll be ready to give him a nice, solid punch when her position allows. But the thought is gone almost as soon as it surfaces, because — suddenly, in spite of everything, a laugh bursts out of her. A genuine, full-bodied laugh that has her hand shaking against the wall while still trying to hold flat for support, her side stitching, and her breath wheezing.

Behind her, she can hear Cassian joining in earnest, his composure crumbling alongside his current attempt to massage her scalp. His laugh is softer than hers, still trying to find its footing after what has to be years of rust, but it’s undeniable.

Understandably undeniable, because this whole situation really is fucking absurd, isn’t it?

They don’t get many moments like this, but even so, they’ve had more of them together than Jyn can remember having for most of her life before they’d ever met — and it’s a good feeling when they happen. Warm, easy. Safe. The last of the tension she’d been carrying washes away with the water.

And after her laughter subsides and she’s blinked the tears from her eyes, she closes them, relaxing, for the moment, into what she can.

[iztea]

How do you get the ideas for your backgrounds?

mmm ideas.... sometimes i draw the background directly from a photo reference (the happy case) so there's not a lot for me to change and i can have a rather peaceful painting process

othertimes, the BG is tied to the subject/concept/scene I'm thinking of, so it only makes sense that i have that as the background

for example, for this fem skk art, i knew i wanted to have chuu kneeling in a crater after destroying a city so drawing that background was just a logical follow-up because i already had the entire idea in mind

Here, I wanted to have Akiangel sit on a building, watching over the city. The ominous sign with "the day of salvation" and crow came later after I found this picture on Pinterest, so they helped further develop the concept, but the main idea was there and so on

The third background option happens when my painting doesn't depict a certain irl scene or landscape, nor do i have any particular references i can use. In that situation, I first and foremost think about the general composition, the shapes, how they flow with each other, how I can tie them to my main theme and what sort of symbolism or little easter eggs i can throw in there just to keep it fresh and interesting for the viewer ( aka the person reading this aha ;;) :-* )

For this piece, i started with a big circle for the background, and then I started breaking it up in pleasing, cloud-like shapes and swirls that constantly keep your eye moving around the picture (i mean hopefully lol). The composition was inspired by a) Dazai's Mayoi card ofc, that trad Eastern illustration style with the circle and then branches of trees, and also .. kazuha's splash art ok i admit it bshsj

for this one, the roses came much, much later. Again, I added that sort of golden arcade to better frame the focal point or the main subject of the scene which was ofc her face and/or outfit. Then, since it still felt rather empty, awkward, and directionless, I tried finding a pleasing, spiral line that would compliment the already existing shapes and that would, again, move your eye all around the composition. I figured since her outfit already had those small roses stuffed in her belt, those curvy lines could become some bloody, spikey roses and boom! here are the theme and elements for you: blacks-roses-blood-deadly-sharp-gold etc. I then had her crush some of those roses in her right (ik it's the left hand shut up) hand to balance out the busier left side

and a last example, sometimes I draw multiple character poses in one piece and they sort of become my background. Yet I still have some blank spaces left so i gotta figure out a way to fill them out. Here, since the pose where he's all curled up was inspired by the TDIPUD light novel, i drew him as a "corpse" in a pool of blood, and contrasted it with some nice flowery-ish patterns and swirls that sort of come from within that bloody mess ( someone also mentioned it looks like a womb which I found very interesting as well ). The cats also helped fill out the space. On the left side, i added that swirly black sun that drips into three squares that gradually fill up with straight blackness and raindrops falling below inspired by the "a conviction that the sun will never rise again" line. I don't think I should go into detail with the symbolism cause it's pretty obvious and not that deep so i won't but yeah, and that's my BG all filled up!

I do this with most of my BGs, it's mostly just abstract shapes; I'm very fixated on making the overall composition look okay and for the piece to send a message ( most of the time ), so i don't think of backgrounds as a separate entity, they are part of an already existing idea, generally speaking.

This kinda turned into a composition discussion midway......... sorry about that....... To be completely honest with you, I have plenty of BG ideas, they kinda just spawn in my brain so i'm not exactly lacking in that department. Having to draw them and finding refs is the hard part for me

[abiiors]

west coast

a/n: apologies if this is a bit shit, i did just write it in one burst of horny at 12:30 am <3

this is fiction that only operates on horny. no logic to be found.

minors dni!! (use of "good girl" once or twice i think)

the sharp smell of a burning cigarette permeates the car, wakes up your senses, as you speed down the pacific coast highway. well, matty does anyway, gelled hair blowing in the wind, the thrill of the speed bringing a smile to his face. 

in the dying light of the day, he’s beautiful. all classic handsome with a stubble and a lit cigarette dangling loosely between his pink lips. the golden light brings out the browns and greys in his hair, makes his eyes look like pools of gold. his jawline is sharp enough to cut, especially when he takes a drag of the cigarette and blows out the smoke. 

he’s happy, carefree, singing along to a lana del rey song on the radio, one of your favourites too. their voices blend beautifully, and you wonder what it would be like to be that perfect. 

“you’re staring,” he smirks. he’s cocky today, you like that about him, about l.a. something about being here brings out the quintessential rockstar in him. and something about seeing him like that makes heat pool between your legs. 

“i am,” you challenge, feeling a bit cocky yourself, “what will you do about it?” 

views of the clear blue sea whizz past you but you keep your eyes on matty until he looks at you, only for a second before he returns his attention to the road. it’s empty, nothing but you, the music, and your thoughts that have long since crossed into filthy territory. 

you look at his lap, not the least bit subtle about where your eyes linger. 

“what can i do?” he asks in response, “i like that you’re staring.”

with a surge of boldness, you place a hand on his thigh, on the soft denim of his faded blue jeans. he looks straight out of a dream. 

wayfarers, white t-shirt, golden light. and your hand inches closer to his crotch. 

“minx,” he laughs, quickly catching up to your intentions, peeking at you from the corner of his eye. “you wanna do it here?”

“i’ll make it worth your time,” you lean over, trailing a few kisses on his jaw, leaving behind red lipstick marks and hissing lightly at how his stubble feels on your soft lips. “if you promise to keep us safe.”

sure, your tone is joking but the very real danger of it shoots a tendril of thrill through you, zapping like electricity. he shifts in his seat, clearly eager with anticipation. the next time to eye his crotch, there’s already a bulge. 

you twist your body in the seat, flicking your tongue on the corner of his mouth, chasing away the traces of your lipstick left seconds ago. matty hisses. 

“shit, baby,” he laughs, “go on then. make me feel good.”

you palm him before he’s even done speaking, eager to feel him, to taste him. to hear all the sounds that spill from his lips while his fingers thread in your hair. pushing you down, fucking your mouth. 

he’s already groaning, growing harder under your touch and shifting in his seat while you undo the zipper of his jeans. his other hand is out the window, tapping away the last of the cigarette ash before he stubs it out in the ashtray. the cigarette smoke blends seamlessly with his cologne, with the salty ocean air. 

“lift your hips for me then,” you whisper right into his ear, savouring the way his breath hitches. breaking his composure feels like a small victory, watching him eagerly help you pull himself out of his pants is better still. 

you trail the kisses down his neck, leaving soft red smudges on the collar of his white tshirt—shame you can’t get him out of it in a running car. you would have liked to leave bruises and bite marks all over his chest and stomach. 

“tease,” he hisses, impatient now, whiney almost. so you give him what he wants. 

without warning you bend all the way down, swirling your tongue around his tip and over the slit. the taste of his precum settles on your tongue, sharp and salty and mouthwatering. the sound that leaves him cannot be described with mere words. it’s a grunt, low and guttural—pule male desire and rockstar arrogance.

he lurches, the car stutters slightly and another shiver passes through you. what a way to go this would be…

“fuck—fuck,” his breathing deepens immediately, abs flexing ever so slightly against your cheek. you’re aware of the way the ends of your hair brush and tickle his inner thigh. you’re even more aware of how he throbs in your mouth even with just the tip in. 

placing a hand on his thigh to hold him down, you take more of him in. he’s hard and thick, stretching out your mouth and making your lips burn the lower you go. it’s a delicious burn. 

a jolt goes through you, one full of nerves and excitement and lust. desire settles on your bones like a living thing. oppressive in the best way possible, leaving you so momentarily blinded that when the car veers almost dangerously to one side and you only hum around him in warning. 

“focus, matthew,” you grit out, letting go of him, “on the wheel or i stop right now.”

he mumbles something incoherent, hand resting on top of your head, struggling with himself whether he should push you down. he could if he wanted to, you would let him, happily gag on his cock just to hear him make those sounds again. 

“please, baby,” he moans and that’s all you need to take him back into your mouth, all the way to the hilt this time. 

pleasure swirls inside you, hot and instant, a sweet ache settling between your legs, right where his tongue was the night before. you feel the sting of the stubble burn at the memory. 

your pace is deliberately slow, torturously so, hollowing your cheeks around him and letting your teeth scrape on the sensitive skin. matty’s hisses and moans wash over you, growing in intensity the more you let your tongue swirl over his tip. 

“this is torture,” he moans. his hand fists in your hair, tighter than before. it stings. it sends delicious tingles all over your body. 

this time he doesn’t stop himself from pushing your head down, guiding you just how he wants you, right until you can feel his tip touching the back of your throat. you gag slightly, drooling all over him. it’s already a mess, wet and hot. even more so when you slide your mouth up his length, simultaneously tracing a nail on the thick vein pulsating on his underside. 

matty’s thighs tremble dangerously. 

“wheel. focus.” you remind him. “i told you i’l make it worth your time.”

but you do decide to stop with the torture after that, bobbing your head up and down his length and increasing your pace. the salty taste of precum lingers stronger in your mouth, getting more and more intense each time you tease his slit. 

the faster you go, the more he slows the car, struggling to control the speed while he’s busy trying not to thrust into your mouth, trying not to fuck your mouth like he wants to. and you can tell he really, really wants to. 

“baby…” he warns; almost as if on cue, you feel the car pulling over to the side of the highway, slowing to a stop. your heart beats all over your body. this is it. you’re in for it now. 

“be a good girl now and open wide,” he warns a mere moment before you feel his hips lifting off the seat. 

matty’s fist tightens into your hair, keeping you in place so he can thrust into your mouth, over and over exactly how he wants to. being used like this has you moaning obnoxiously. you know what it does to him, how the sounds shoot straight to his dick, making him lose it more and more. 

“i’m close,” he moans. 

the sides of your mouth burn, stretched out fully from being fucked at a bruising pace. the ache between your legs increases, sure to have left an obvious damp spot on your panties by now. 

you need to taste him, feel him spilling in your mouth now. so you let your teeth graze over his length again, moaning, hollowing your cheeks until you feel the spurts of warm, thick cum spill down your throat. 

the sounds coming out of him—out of both of you—are downright sinful; loud and wet and obnoxious. you’re a sloppy mess too, a mixture of drool and cum running down the side of your mouth as you try to keep up with his thrusts, swallowing every last drop he has to offer. pleasing him like a good girl until his thrusts slow to a stop. 

only then do you let yourself straighten. 

you’re sure your face is a mess; mascara smudged under your eyes, red smeared around your mouth just like it is at the base of his cock, forming a filthy ring. your chin, wet and sticky from his cum. 

matty has his tipped back, eyes closed and breathing heavily. his sunglasses are pushed up on his head. his cheeks are pink, mouth parted open and still smudged on one side with red. 

he looks stunning, perfect. 

that is until he opens his eyes to look at you, gaze dark and somehow still hungry. you know it’s a silent command. you obey it, opening your mouth wide to show him that you’ve swallowed everything. all of it. 

the sun’s gone down now. it’s almost dark. even when the cars zoom by, they don’t stop or pay attention to you. but matty does, looking at you intently, mouth curling up as he lets his eyes roam over your flushed face, tangled hair, and wet mouth.

“come here,” he gestures, voice rough and gravelly. “it’s only fair i return the favour.”

[starcrossedxwriter]

Unbreakable Part 3 (Erik Killmonger x OC)

Warnings: none...

A/n: a little pre-Christmas gift. Enjoy!

Naja pushed the knife into his side, not enough to draw blood but just enough for him to feel it. 

“Yield.” 

“Aight girl, damn.” Naja smirked to herself before letting him go and sliding the knives back into their sheaths at her waist. “You don’t know the difference between friendly training ’n a real fight, do you?” 

“Well, this isn’t friendly so…” she shrugged, though she found her tone was not the entirely cold one she hoped it would be as she went to grab water. “And a person who thinks any fight is friendly is a person who won’t live long. No one out there is going to fight friendly so why would I train as such? Easy way to meet the ancestors faster if you ask me.” 

His response, not that he did not agree with it, shocked him. Every day, he realized just how truly different she was now. Or at least, how different she outwardly showed herself to be. But it could not have just been their break up, he reasoned. It had to be something else to harden her to this degree. 

“May I ask you something?” 

He lifted his head. “Well that would involve talking to me?” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. Tell me how you keep beatin’ my ass and I’ll answer your question.”

Naja mulled over his compromise for a moment before nodding, the terms seemed logical and fair enough. She crossed back over the mat to stand in front of him.  

“It’s not that hard. You fight like most overconfident men, feel free to take offense to that, by the way.” He merely rolled her eyes. Her jabs seemed to roll off his back, which annoyed her to no end. “Like you’re the biggest and strongest, you merely throw your weight around with little skill. And you can get away with that when you are indeed the biggest and the strongest. Most people can’t overpower brute strength. But I’ve never been the strongest and never will be. Certainly not the biggest in a fight and likely also never will be. So I rely on skill and skill alone. And my other senses. It’s obvious you know how to fight and have skill, even if it is… lacking since you took the herb. Because you know only a handful of equally enhanced people could hope to beat you. You want to beat me? Focus on using your mind to beat me, not those giant muscles,” she gestured at his bulging biceps. 

“Damn, you good. And right. That first day I fought you was my first time fightin’ in a year. Maybe you can teach me some of those skills?” 

Naja stared at him for a few moments before acquiescing. She would never admit it to him but she enjoyed their afternoon sparring sessions. Though they had been at it for a week, this was the most they had spoken in their sessions. He did not push conversation on her even though she could always tell there was a question on the tip of his lips. But their time together steadily opened the release valve on the tension between them even if they did not speak to each other. Every blow, grunt, and kick chipped away at the barrier between them, just as - she imagined - he knew it would. She hated that his plan was working. 

“Deal. We’ll try some new things tomorrow.” 

“I’m a man of my word… now,” he added with a chuckle when her eyebrow raised. “What do you wanna know?” 

“How did a man who vowed to sooner destroy Wakanda before he stepped foot in it again manage to get his hands on our most sacred herb?” 

He scratched the nape of his neck, that was not the question he was expecting. But it was a fair one. He had once vowed to burn Wakanda to the ground for what they took from him. And now he was back, serving the country as loyally as any other soul would, had given up more than most would - though he chose not to think about the long-term freedoms he gave up for it. Only T’Challa knew the road that led him back, that changed his mind. 

“You weren’t wrong…” he closed the space between them. 

“I rarely am,” she offered, which made him laugh. 

Conceded but true, he thought to himself. 

“T’Challa and I did reconnect after his father died… couple years before the Blip. He gave me a set of beads and told me if I ever needed anythin’, call him. Never thought I’d need to call it in, never thought I’d need him. And then… shit hit the fan after the Blip, tried to save someone instead of myself and got shot.” He gestured toward the faintest scar among the raised scarring on his chest. “Escaped, used one of the beads to stabilize myself, called T’Challa. By the time they got me back, the herb was the only option.” 

“You were shot?” She whispered. Without thinking, her hand reached to his scarred chest and grazed over the faint line left behind. It was barely visible against the bumps that marred his perfect skin. The picture of it pained her soul, the idea of him floating between life and death. “I d-don’t understand you,” she whispered with a soft chuckle and head shake. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You claimed to have no room in your heart for anyone, claimed to love nothing and no one. Who on this planet was worth almost dying for?” 

Erik grabbed her hand, holding it to his chest, which tore her eyes from his scar to his deep brown ones. 

“Someone who reminded me of the most important thing I sacrificed, the thing I always wanted to get back to.” 

She could feel the ice between them, the ice she so desperately clung to, melting away as if someone set it ablaze. It could not withstand this, this fire that brewed between them under the surface of disdain. She could no longer ignore it in favor of righteous rage. He was making it impossible to do so. She wanted to resist it, break free of him and this spell he kept putting her under. But his pull was impossible to resist. She was paralyzed there with him and that terrified her. 

“W-why’d you stay?” 

“I saw my dad in the Ancestral Plane. Reminded me that I… I had been on the run from hard shit long enough, that I made mistakes and I needed to stay and fix them. Atone for them. So I vowed to stick around this time and do that.”

“And did you? Fix it?” Her voice was reduced to a whisper. 

“Some of it. Some are proving harder but I got 5 or 6 weeks left.” 

She wished Bast would send her some snappy retort, something to remind him that she hated him. However, there was nothing. No jabs, no anger, nothing she could offer. The old her, the one she buried beneath everything she was today, yearned for him as if he were oxygen for her to breathe. But she couldn’t, couldn’t let her out again, allow herself to be hurt like that again.

“What if t-that isn’t enough? What if t-there’s t-too much damage?” 

He shrugged. “With enough work, anything can be fixed. And I ain’t ever let a challenge stop me.” 

She let out a shaky breath as his face leaned in closer to hers. It was as if something transported her back to her teens. She was 16 again, sneaking through the caves of the falls with Erik, ready to fall into the roaring river that was him. And here she was, foolishly, teetering on that edge again. And the rope that kept her tethered to the edge, a decade of pain and anger, that was fraying at the middle with each passing moment in his presence. 

However, she was thankful when both of their beads rang out loudly, a cannon that forced them away from each other. 

Thank Bast, she thought to herself. She still answered some prayers.

“It’s T’Challa,” she mumbled. “W-We should go.” 

Erik tried to mask the crestfallen look on his face before he nodded and followed her out. Every day he had to remind himself that movement and rebuilding was slow tedious work. And his road back into Naja’s good graces would a long one.

***

Naja tossed and turned, groaning slightly to herself. Sleep was more difficult in Wakanda than she thought it would be. She was used to holding late hours, whether for her shifts at the bar or for activities that required the cover of night before sleeping until noon. It also did not help how soft her bed was. She had long left the luxuries of Wakanda behind and now they were difficult to grow accustomed to again. 

Her family was determined to use every moment of her time with them. A certain adorable prince demanded Naja’s attendance at breakfast before he went to school, which meant early mornings with the family. She spent most of the day with Nakia and the baby before sparring with Erik in the afternoon, an activity she hated to admit she looked forward to. 

“You aren’t sleeping,” she mumbled to herself before sliding out of bed. She grabbed her long duster to provide some level of decency to her short sleeping shorts and tank top. She wished she had the company of man to help her at least feel tired but she did not. Besides, everytime she thought about it… there was only one man that came to mind and that was beyond out of the question. 

She slid on her slippers and, because she was who she was, grabbed her gun from under her pillow and tucked it in the waistband of her shorts. What would she need it for? She did not know but she did not go anywhere at night without it. 

She slipped out of her quarters, nodding at the two Dora who stood guard outside her wing. They did not follow her, thank Bast. But that had been the compromise. 

She meandered through the halls, soft candles leading her around as she wandered. A soft wind blew through the open halls of the palace, leading her to the gardens. She walked through, savoring the beauty and quiet of the space. She settled in a patch that grew vibrant blue lilies she knew Nakia had planted as they grew along the falls. They were her personal favorites. She sat there and studied them, noting every shade of blue in each petal. They reminded her of a softer life, a softer time. She used to keep a bouquet of them by her bed when she was young. 

She had no desire to go back there but she could not pretend that sometimes she didn't missed it. She missed the girl that could fall asleep on mattresses that felt like clouds and became gleeful at pretty flowers. Who sought out the beauty in every person, not the ulterior motives they had to harm her. That girl was dead and buried, rightfully so but she was missed. 

As quickly as her reminiscing started, it ended as she felt a presence behind her. Instinctively, she jumped up and grabbed her gun, pointing it at Erik. 

“Ain’t seen someone move that fast in a minute,” he offered, admiration in his voice despite the gun aimed between his eyes. “You a good shot?” 

“Better than you I’m sure,” she mumbled. “They didn’t teach you at your assassin school about sneaking up on other assassins?” 

“Wasn’t sneakin’. I said your name twice before you almost blew my head off.” 

Naja blinked a few times in shock. “Oh, sorry, don’t know how I didn’t hear you.” She stowed her weapon back behind her back and shifted her weight awkwardly. “Couldn’t sleep either?” 

“Nah… just don’t need it much anymore. One of the benefits of the herb. Lots of time to wander and think.” 

Some nights, the restlessness in his spirit was simply unbearable so he just wandered. He often left the palace and went to his favorite spots in the country. But some nights like tonight, he just walked around the palace. Since he moved in, he imagined he had learned every nook and cranny. No one ever bothered him or even tried to stop him, though he knew every midnight stroll made its way back to T’Challa. 

He had free range but he also knew T’Challa kept a close eye on him. He was not intrusive or overbearing so Erik chose to ignore it and let T’Challa do whatever he needed to do to feel secure about Erik’s residency there. And though T’Challa would never admit it, Erik also knew that his spying had an ulterior motive driven by a fear that T’Challa would wake up one day and Erik would have disappeared without warning or a goodbye. 

That was not him anymore, he had learned his lesson years ago. Learned the irreversible pain abandoning people without thought or care for them did. And he vowed that he would never make such a callous choice again, especially since he would likely spend the rest of his life making up for the last time. If he could have, Bast knew he would go back and do so many things differently, make so many different choices. That was all the last 15 years had been: years and years to contemplate the terrible decisions he made in his youth. 

“And opportunities to steal from the kitchens?” she gestured toward the wrapped up napkins in his hand. 

“Another benefit or curse of the herb, dependin’ on how you look at it. Always hungry as fuck.” 

She chuckled. “I can relate,” she admitted. “To the hungry part at least.” 

Erik studied her for a minute before reaching his hand out, handing her the wrapped up food. She raised an eyebrow before taking it and opening it, revealing her favorite dessert, a Wakandan lime cake that she had not had in years but adored. 

“Wanna share? It’s that recipe you always loved.” 

She wanted to say no but she saw it for what it was: a peace offering. At least for them at this moment, even if it did not last till the sun rose in the morning. 

She settled back in her spot, Erik sitting next to her, the cake perched on his knee as they each broke off pieces. She stifled a moan as the flavors hit her taste buds. 

“Bast… I forgot how good that was. Thanks for sharing. I hope you didn’t poison it or something.” 

“You hate me, not the other way around, remember?” 

Yes, you do hate him. Remember?? A voice yelled in her head. But did she? Really? Cause everything she felt right now was far from hate. Complicated, yes? But hate was not complicated at all. 

“Right. Wouldn’t be wise on your part to accept any cake from me then.” She grabbed another piece and popped it in her mouth before laying back in the soft grass. Her eyes studied the stars as they laid there in silence, Erik quietly handing her pieces of cake as he watched her. 

“Can I ask you somethin’? You owe me at least that, eating all my damn cake.” Not that he minded. 

“I’m nothing if not fair. What do you want to know?” 

Erik wanted to know so much, he wanted to know everything that had happened to her in the last 15 years but he knew it was a slow build to gaining her trust again. Which meant he had to start with a soft ball, something simple and easy that would not ruffle any feathers. 

“Been readin’ war dog files and most choose jobs and covers that… give them comfort. You chose a bartender in the poorest part of the country, why?” 

Naja turned onto her side to look at him. This was the most relaxed Erik had seen her since he arrived and he loved it. 

“T’Challa asked the same thing when I picked it,” she chuckled. “When I was assigned to Niganda as home base, I knew I needed to keep a low profile, I needed to be flexible and available for missions. And the poorest village in any country is the most overlooked. Knew no one would look twice. Perfect place to hide. And then I just grew to love it, the people… the heart of it. They don’t have much but everyone does everything they can for everyone. And I became a war dog to help people. If I was going to take lives, I figured I could help them too. And then it just became home.” 

“You are so different now…” he mumbled as he stared at her. 

She shrugged. “Had to be. Wasn’t going to survive any other way. Suppose I should thank you for that? If you hadn’t…” she did not want to say it. “Left, I wouldn’t be who I am today.” 

“And is she better than who you were?” He asked, holding her gaze. 

“She’s stronger. She won’t be broken ever again. She can’t be.” 

Erik knew he should quit while he was ahead. They were dancing into dangerous territory that could undo the fragile peace they had created between them. But he could not stop himself. He hated that she thought such things about herself, hated that she thought so lowly of herself. 

“What makes you think she wasn’t strong?” 

“Because she…” Naja stopped herself. She did not think she could go down this road with him. He wanted vulnerability and she was not interested in giving it to him. He did not deserve it. “I believe you asked for one question… not eight follow ups,” she joked. “I should head back to my room.” She stood up and dusted off her clothes. “Thanks for the cake.” 

Erik sighed. He figured he was taking it too far but he lost control when he was with her. Forgot about his obligations and all the things his brain knew he should not do. All he could think about was what his heart wanted and that was her, all of her. 

“Let me walk you back.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t need an escort.” 

“I know you don’t. Humor a nigga, damn. Were you always this stubborn?” 

Naja snorted. “Another consequence of your actions,” she shrugged. 

“Well your suite’s on the way to mine so we can walk in that direction together.” 

“You don’t give up, do you?” 

He closed the space between them, heat rising in Naja’s entire body as he stared down at her. “Nope. But I was always like that.” 

She did not say anything, there was no response she could offer that did not betray her. If she stayed in his presence, under his smolder much longer, he would end up in her bed. She had far less self control than he gave her credit for. 

She turned and walked back in the direction she came. They did not say much as they walked through the silent halls until they were back in front of her suite. 

“Thanks for the cake and conversation. It was nice,” she admitted. 

“How painful was that?” At her confused expression, Erik added. “To say somethin’  nice to me?” 

Naja laughed loudly. Fuck, Eirk forgot how much he missed that sound. “Very. Don’t make me regret it. And say a word of it to anyone else and I’ll show you how good of a shot I am,” she warned. 

“Fine if you do somethin’ for me? Next time you can’t sleep and want to go wanderin’, call me. I know all the best spots for us night owls.” 

She studied him. Everything in her warred. Her heart demanded she say yes, the voice she listened to the least. Her brain simply demanded she remember everything he had done to her, how he had destroyed her. But her heart recognized his effort, recognized that he was trying to earn her trust back. And what did she gain by pretending it was not working to some degree? But doing so scared her. Her anger and rage toward him had been fuel to survive, she did not know who she was without it. But even that fear was not strong enough to make her say that simple word: no. 

He had infiltrated every aspect of her being and there was only so much resistance she could put up.

“Fine. But this changes nothing between us. I just don’t enjoy wandering alone.” She did not even understand the point of adding that caveat. It was not true. The sum of two conversations had changed everything between them. 

Erik was not even annoyed or angry at her words. He deserved 99% of the lashings she gave him. He was honestly surprised she even said yes. But he would not complain, the barrier softened with every passing day and he would take whatever he could get. 

“I know. You still hate me. Understood. See you on the mat, Naja.” 

“Night.” 

Naja watched him walk off before closing the door to her room. She slumped against the door. 

“Fuck me,” she muttered before climbing into bed. 

However, she could not deny that Erik had a certain effect on her because she slept the rest of the night. Though her brain plagued her with dreams, or in her opinion nightmares, of him. Of her falling for him yet again. And each one ended the same way: with him leaving her heartbroken and alone. 

She was only pulled out of her dreams at a knock at her door. She groaned, wondering who had lost all common sense and was bothering her. She rubbed her eyes, noticing the sun was high in the sky. She glanced at her clock, breakfast was in a short while which meant she did not need to scream at whatever poor soul stood on the other side of her door. 

She slid on her robe and pulled open the door. 

“Sister Naja? I have a delivery for you.” The woman held a vase of blue flame lilies in her arms. “There’s also a note.” 

“Who are they from?” Naja asked, though she already knew the answer. 

“They said you would know.” and with that, she handed her the vase and note and walked away. Naja sat on her bed, sliding the vase down on her bedside table before opening the note. 

A girl once told me she liked to wake up to these every day because they were a reminder of the beauty in our world. One of the many lessons that girl taught me was that strength and beauty can co-exist. It took me too long to learn that lesson but when I did, it changed my life. I hope you haven’t forgotten it. 

A tear slid down her cheek as she studied the flowers. 

“I hate him so much,” she whispered to herself. But she knew the truth, the only thing she hated about Erik was how much she still loved him. And really, that was what she hated about herself more. 

***

“Again!” Naja demanded as she jumped to her feet. She spun the spear around her in her hand before stabbing into the soft material of the mat. 

Erik braced himself on his knees. “How the fuck you keep doin’ that shit? It’s like I ain’t even tryin’. This shit’s effortless for you.” 

“I’m just that good,” she winked at him before sighing. “I think you need an incentive.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Because this isn’t working. It would be easier to teach a penguin to fly than this… and less painful.” 

“So you got jokes? I’m gettin’ my ass beat... and you got jokes." 

Naja closed the space between them. “You’re getting your ass beat because you aren’t trying. You’re pulling your punches and holding back because you don’t want to hurt me. I’m not a child playing on the grown-ups’ mat. Fight me as you would fight any man out there. But I know you. You’ve always had a competitive spirit so let’s make a bet. Best two out of three and whoever wins gets whatever they want. Once in a lifetime opportunity. You in?”  

Erik’s ears immediately perked up. “You serious?” 

“Yes. You need an incentive, so make your wager good. Something you’d fight to the death for.” 

Erik saw a golden path laid out in front of him. This felt too good to be true. But she was completely and totally serious. She was offering him anything in this world. He knew she would fight equally hard to win but he had to try. Big risk, big reward was always his motto. 

“If I win, let me take you out to dinner.” 

Naja immediately shook her head. She clearly had not thought this plan through properly. Wandering through the palace and sparring together was one thing. She could be friendly with him again but she would not date him or intentionally foster the romantic feelings she felt for him. Never again.

“Absolutely not.” 

“You said somethin’ I’d fight to death for and any good spy knows to be specific and you didn’t give any parameters. So that’s it. One dinner outside the palace with me. Besides… it’s gotta be somethin’ you’d fight equally hard to ensure I lost. Gotta make it a fair fight.” 

He knew Naja was principled enough not to go back on her word. She wanted him to fight harder, this would certainly do it. But she hated that he kept trying, kept poking at her soft spots to make her fully cave for him. He was playing her like a fiddle and she was too weak  to stop him. 

However, a small piece of her demanded she resisted the pull to say yes and let Bast and fate decide what happened next.

“One dinner isn’t going to change anything between us. Pick something else.” 

“No. I can be just as stubborn as you.” 

“Pick. Something. Else.” She practically screamed at him, everything in her ignoring the electricity that sparked when they were they close. He woke up every cell in her body, charged her with energy and passion and lust. Everything she did not want to feel for him.

There was no space for Bast between them as they stood off. Despite their significant height difference, Naja did not cower. She stood tall before him even though she barely reached his chin.

“No. You can hate me, despise me. I don’t care. But I won’t stop tryin’, Naja. Even if all I can do is show you I’ve changed and that I regret what I did to you so you can hate me a little less. If that’s all I get, I can live with that. But I can't live knowing I didn't try so I’m gonna use every minute I got to show you. That’s a promise.” 

Naja pulled herself to the fullest height she could. “It won’t work.” 

“If you’re so sure it won’t work, then it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

Naja sucked her teeth. There was no retort for that… at least not one that would get her out of this hellish situation.  “Fine. Pick your weapon.” 

Once they both had their chosen spears in hand, the training center filled with the loud clashing of vibranium. Naja fought with every ounce of intensity she could muster, landing Erik on his back with her spear gently poking his chest in a few short minutes. 

“One for me. Feels like you played this little game all wrong. Instead of giving yourself an incentive, you just gave me a better one to beat your ass.” 

Erik bared his teeth with a menacing smile, his golden grill glistening slightly in the light before he pushed himself to his feet. “I played the game exactly like I wanted to, baby girl. But I like it when you talk shit.” 

Naja bristled at the pet name he used to call her. She imagined he pulled it out simply to touch a nerve but it sounded so effortless too. No one had called her that since him and it, like the flowers he gave her, woke something in her she thought was dead and gone. 

What Naja did not know is that Erik had used the first round to his advantage. He used the time to study her, how she attacked, which weak spots she would go for first. So during the second round, he met her blow for blow, blocking every single one with such precision that she could not hide her shock and surprise. 

“I knew you were holding out on me.” 

“What half assed assassin school did you go to where they didn’t teach you the number 1 rule?” he asked as he slashed the blunt end of his spear against her back, causing her to fall to the ground. 

It was the first time he grounded her but even in her shock, she rolled to her side and immediately bounced to her feet, ignoring the lack of air in her lungs. 

Fuck, she was exhausted. And she knew then that she was screwed. 

“And what’s… that?” 

“No one’s your friend so you should never show all your tricks. And you’ve been showing me all of yours for weeks.” 

And just as Naja lunged to take him down, Erik grabbed the end of her spear and yanked her against his chest. With a move she had never seen before, he twisted the weapon out of her grasp and her arm behind her back, forcing her to remain flush to his chest. For good measure and to prove he had won the round, he grabbed a knife he kept hidden in his vest and held it to her throat. 

“Yield.” 

Naja could feel every scar on his chest pressed against her bare skin as she fought him in only a sports bra and leggings. She could feel every muscle and ounce of strength against her. 

“Screw you,” she spat angrily as she yanked her arm free and turned to face him. 

“I forgot you were a sore loser. One to one. One more round, baby girl.” 

“Call me that again and you’ll meet Bast a lot sooner than you want to.” 

They both crouched down into their fighting stances and pounced. It was more than a dance this time, it was the performance of a lifetime for both of them. There was too much on the line… everything was on the line. Every trick, hidden skill, ruthless action they could use without killing the other, they did. They were fighting to win and they were two people who never lost. 

Everytime each of them thought they had the other in their crosshairs, they found a way to weasel out of them. Naja was afraid of how sore she would be in the morning but she did not care. For all intents and purposes, she was fighting for her life on that mat. Losing her dignity to Erik Stevens again was not an option. 

However, Erik knew one thing that Naja did not want to admit. His enhancements meant that he could last longer in a fight than any of his opponents, even if they were better fighters. He did not have to outfight Naja… he simply had to outlast her. And sure enough, as this round went on for nearly double the amount of time as the others, he could see her movements grow tired and slower. She usually moved with the precision and quickness of a machine. But she was not a machine, she was human and the human body had a limit. She was reaching hers. 

Erik thought about dragging it out but he was a victor ready to claim his prize. While he was the type of monster who enjoyed playing with his food before he went in for the kill, he knew this win would be delicious without all that. 

He waited until Naja lunged for him before he spun away from her and kicked the back of her knee. She groaned in pain as she toppled like a tree. Her usual move to return to her feet was too slow, giving Erik the chance to straddle her hips and pin her hands to the ground. 

“Yield.” He demanded, his voice low and domineering. 

She bucked against him a few times to get him off of her, frustrated at the heaviness that was him against her small frame. She was stuck beneath him and she had lost. They both knew it. 

Her chest heaved and Erik found it difficult not to let his eyes fall to her full chest, the tops of her breasts on display for him. He had forgotten what it was like to have her beneath him. He knew he could never have her like this in the setting he wanted but he could reminisce.

“Say it or we ain’t movin’.”

“I yield,” she whispered through gritted teeth, Erik allowing her to sit up. 

He held out his hand to help her to her feet but like the sore loser she was, she swatted it away and stood up on her own. She stomped over to her bag and wiped the dripping sweat off of her in a fit of rage. How did she lose?

Because you’re weak when it comes to him. Always have been and always will be. 

She could not even look at him in her frustration at him and herself for this stupid position she put herself in. She supposed she just had not expected it to backfire so spectacularly. 

“That was fun. You were right… just needed a good incentive.” He threw her a teasing smile, which her deadpan face did not return. “See you for our walk tonight. I’ll let you know about dinner, just make sure to wear somethin’ black and gold,” he winked at her before grabbing his stuff and leaving the training center.

As she watched him retreat, Naja paced in circles on the training mat before letting out a loud frustrated groan. For good measure, she pulled out all of the knives in her vest one by one and aimed them at the door Erik just walked out of. Each one hit the same square inch of the door with precision right where his head had been only seconds earlier.  

“Should’ve been his fucking face,” she muttered to herself before grabbing her bag and stalking out of the center, her hands angrily ripping each knife out of the door before she left. 

***

Erik could not help but check his beads and messages every five minutes. Tonight’s usual restlessness had turned to all-consuming anxiety as their usual meeting hour had passed without a call or message. He wondered if she was sulking as she had been all evening since their sparring match. She lost fair and square but he knew she would not be happy about it. But he had hoped she would come around by their late night walk.

He found that his few hours with Naja each day were the only things he looked forward to. There was still a coldness to her when they were around the entire family as if she was committed to the facade. But day by day, he got to see a bit of the old her until she realized and usually became cold again. However, he did not mind. He still had several weeks to fully peel back the curtain and he would take every minute he could. 

Maybe she is sleep. She actually needs it, unlike you. 

Erik only felt so bad about keeping her up at night. He knew her human non-enhanced body needed rest that his did not but he did not feel bad enough to cut their time together short. Deciding that he could not wait any longer and could just meet her in the gardens when and if she called, he decided to start his wandering journey without her. 

He pulled on his shoes and stepped out of his room, nodding at the Dora assigned to him. She waited for a moment, knowing he hated the shadows he was forced to keep with him. 

“Staying in the palace tonight,” he called over his shoulder, the woman’s shoulders easing a bit as she remained in her position. Even he had no interest in walking outside in one of Wakanda’s summer storms. He remembered those from when he was a kid, they were a force to be reckoned with. 

The storm immediately made him think of Naja, who was notoriously afraid of thunder and lightning. He wondered if she was still was. Though he imagined there was little she was afraid of these days.

His silent musings were cut short when a soft whimper filled his ears. He whipped his head around, glancing up and down the hall of rooms, his enhanced hearing straining to pick up on the sound again. 

When he heard it a second time, it was more pained, agonizing sadness that gripped his soul with incoherent mumblings he could not make sense of. But it was loud enough for him to know exactly who it was.  

“Naja.” 

His feet moved faster than light itself as he followed the pained sobs to her door. He did not think to knock or announce himself when he pushed inside to find her thrashing in her bed, her sheets tangled up in her limbs. Tears streamed down her face as she cried, he could see the small beads of tacky sweat that covered her. 

With only mere feet between them, he could finally hear her words, her soft apologies to someone who was not there. Select phrases hit his ears and felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart, her proclamations that something was her fault, her pleas for forgiveness. 

His eyes quickly scanned the papers and journals that were littered across her bed. Surveillance photos, maps, pictures of children, notes scribbled in her journal. None of it made sense to him without proper context but one thing he knew for certain: she was involved in far more than watching and observing. 

He sat down on the corner of her bed and gently touched her face, his palm cupping her cheek. His thumb whisked away her tears. At his touch, her body slowly settled, though her tears and mumbling pleas did not.

“Come back to me, Naja,” he whispered. His other hand rubbed her bare arm, hoping his touch would break through the barriers in her mind. “Wake up for me.” 

His instructions were low and his touch measured and gentle until he saw her eyes flutter open. 

“N-N’Jadaka?” She croaked as she blinked her eyes several times, adjusting to the darkness of her room. A loud crack of thunder caused her to jump slightly, Erik moving closer to her to rub her bare arms. She was shaking like a leaf. 

He was so concerned that he did not even get to revel in the fact that she used his real name for the fist time, the one she used to call him. 

“Hey, you’re ok. You’re ok. I just heard you havin’ a nightmare.” 

“J-just a nightmare… just a nightmare,” she muttered to herself as she forced her body into an upright position. Her eyes frantically surveyed her room as the realization that she was still in Wakanda hit her. Her eyes screwed shut, her arms wrapping around her knees as she repeated that refrain. “Just a nightmare.”

He was not sure what to make of the woman who sat in front of him now. She was such a juxtaposition to the hardened and cold spy who he had grown accustomed to since returning home. Since he saw her again, he felt like he was staring at her through a stained glass window. The other side peeked through ever so slightly but, for the most part, all he could see was the picture she wanted him to see and nothing more. But tonight? That stained glass window shattered and he could see her, the girl he fell madly in love with all those years ago. The girl who felt everything with her whole soul, loved so deeply for others, and lived in her vulnerability fully. 

Erik decided to make himself useful by pouring her a glass of water from the pitcher on her coffee table. However, she pushed it away when he tried to hand it to her, Naja suddenly overwhelmed by the shame that he, of all people, saw her in such a state. 

“I-I’m good,” she hastily wiped her tears.

Erik ignored her as he pushed the glass into her hand. It shook slightly so he wrapped his own hand around hers to ensure she did not spill it. 

“Drink.” She could tell his word was a command and not a suggestion, though the stubborn part of her wanted to remind him that he was in no position to give her orders.

He watched her intently as she took long sips, the tension in her frame easing every time she swallowed. 

“So you gonna tell me what that was about? And what all this is?” 

“Missing kids in the capital… stolen by the King and his soldiers but no one knows where they are or why. Two girls were taken earlier this evening. Every day I’m here, more of them go missing, more lives ruined and there’s nothing I can do.”

“The dream?” 

“I c-couldn’t sleep cause of the s-storm,” she gestured toward the window. “A-and finding out about the girls so I started pouring over my notes. Must’ve dozed off a-and… A-and I was back at my house there and I walked outside and… All their parents were outside, screaming a-and crying about how I couldn’t find them o-or save them. How no one cared about them. But I do… I c-care. I just… I pour over this mess every single night and I can’t…” she gestured at the mess on her bed. “I can’t figure it out. I can’t find them.” 

“Why you puttin’ that on yourself?” His thumb wiped one of her tears. 

“Because if I don’t… who will, Erik? I tried but I can’t… I can’t just watch and report. It’s not… it’s not me.” 

He shook his head. “I ain’t an idiot like T. I know you ain’t built for that watch dog shit. I am asking, why is it only on you to find them?”

She crossed her legs, tugging the blanket around her bare arms. She was not cold but something about the vulnerability made her shiver, shake. It also did not help that thunder and lightning raged outside. She hated storms, ever since she was a child. 

“Gotta find some way to earn some of my soul back,” she grimaced. She leaned back against the headboard. “I don’t regret it. I’d lead the same life over again if given the choice.” The conviction in her voice was resolute and unwavering. “Everything I’ve ever done was for our people and this country. But… It haunts me, all the suffering of this world that I ignored for years because it had nothing to do with the mission or serving Wakanda. These kids?” She picked up the stack of photos on the bed and handed them to him. “They aren’t Wakandan but does that mean their lives mean less? That they do not deserve our resources to find them? Save them? And if I can’t do it with all the resources and tech and everything we have that no one else on this planet does… what did I survive this long for then? I spent the better part of my life using those resources to take lives, I just want to spend whatever time I have left saving them.” 

Erik bowed his head. He understood the feeling, the ways in which the complex lives they chose haunted them day in and day out. But he had to learn how to make peace with it all. And she did too. 

“Naja… listen to me. Probably the last person you want advice from but I might be one of the only people ‘round here who get it. I killed a lot more people than you for a lot less righteous reasons. For revenge and to satisfy rage, not for country and all that shit. And I probably got more pleasure from it than you did. And that shit still haunts me too. I stayed here to save whatever pieces of my soul were left. I get it. But you… The girl I knew wanted to be a War Dog to help people and add to the world, not subtract from it. That girl ain’t dead. Maybe you just buried her beneath barriers to stop someone from ever hurtin’ you again. Because being a cold, unfeelin’ spy is less painful. Believe me, I tried that shit too. But our old selves always demand air eventually, Naja. And maybe this,” he took the photos out of her hand. “Is that air.” 

Fuck, I hate him, she though to herself. One thing that never changed about Erik was he knew exactly what to say, exactly what she needed to be whole again. This moment reminded her of the first time she and Erik slept together. They did not do anything but it was still the night she realized how utterly and insanely in love with him she was. It was a night not unlike this one, a summer storm keeping her up to the wee hours of the night. She had called him, expecting him to keep her company till she dozed off. But instead, he commandeered a jeep and was outside her window 20 minutes later. She buried herself in his chest while he offered her soothing words and stories until she fell asleep. 

He had always been her rock, her emotional constant when she was in pain. Part of her hated herself for still needing that from anyone, but particularly for craving it from him. 

“That girl’s gone, Erik,” she muttered, trying to regain some semblance of control in that moment. She could not remember the last time she was vulnerable with someone and she was not particularly interested in doing it now. “Time and life killed her. This is me now.” 

“If that girl was really gone, you would not be screamin’ yourself awake with nightmares over kids you don’t know. We can be as cold and unfeelin’ as we wanna be but who we were back then is  still there. And there’s nothin’ wrong with that. I thought the girl you were was pretty dope anyway,” he pushed her braids behind her shoulder with a smile. “I know you ain’t gonna go back to sleep so explain it to me.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“You ain’t goin’ back to sleep with all that outside.” The wind and thunder seemed to pick up on cue as he spoke. At her surprised expression he shrugged. “I remember everything about you.” 

Her voice hitched slightly as she studied him, she felt all of it. So much love and adoration in his eyes that clashed with everything he had once made her believe about herself. A voice in her mind cautioned her with loud echoing words. 

He doesn’t love you, he doesn’t care for you. He never did. 

But everything in the way he studied her, the way he touched her, the way he intimately remembered everything about her she desperately tried to forget signaled that he did. But she learned the hard way where trusting Erik got her: years of agony, pain, and guilt for choices his actions forced her to make that she did not know if she could ever forgive him for. She hated how he slowly chipped away at the villainous image she had created of him. It was easy to hate a villain, but whatever he was now? The duality of being both her villain and her savior? That was an emotional gray area that she had no interest in living in. 

“I’m not worth remembering or sticking around for, remember?” She responded, her only defense to protect herself was to hit low. Though her words did not have the sharpness she intended. Instead they just sounded how she felt when she heard them: heartbroken.

And the blow landed but Erik did not let it deter him. She deserved to land a cheap shot or two, he deserved it. “I can’t undo the past. But you can let me atone for it by helpin’ you out now. If the Nigandans are plannin’ somethin’, I should know about it.” He decided to omit the real reason why he also needed to know what the Royal Family was orchestrating. That reality was a long ways off. “Besides, another pair of eyes might be exactly what you need. Let me help you, Naja.” 

She did not want to say yes and give him more opportunities to get close to her. However, the lives of these children and families were more important than her pride, even she knew that.

“Fine. But this changes nothing between us,” she warned as she shifted the materials on her bed around so she could walk him through everything in order. 

“I’d expect nothing less,” he remarked. 

An hour passed by the time Naja finished reviewing all the materials and evidence with him. 

“So? What do you think?” 

He shook his head. “Defintiely somethin’s goin’ on. But to stop the peace talks or get Wakanda to intervene, you gotta have more than this. And that takes time.” 

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I know, I know. I just don’t know how much time these kids have.” 

Erik rubbed her knee, trails of fire and heat cascading up her body at his touch. She awkwardly shifted her leg out of the way to avoid his grasp. She refused to fall, not again.  

“I’m gonna help you. T got me working the peace talks on my end now. Maybe with your undercover work and my spot in the negotiations, we can piece it all together. And maybe, if I help you bring these kids home, we can at least be friends?” 

“Don’t hold your breath,” she muttered under her breath, which made Erik chuckle. 

“I won’t.” 

“But thank you. Seriously,” she squeezed his hand gently, a spark igniting between them before she tore it away. “Umm…I should try to go back to bed. Sorry for missing our meeting time tonight.” 

“All good. Night, Naja.” 

“Night, Erik.” 

Naja watched him start to head to the door, more loud cracks of thunder echoing around her. Something in her just broke, cracked her wide open and the girl she once was demanded air, freedom. And the only air she wanted was him. She knew it was a bad idea. It was the dumbest idea she had ever had. But she was about to make it. The night had stripped her bare, left her scared and boneless. And she was tired of dealing with all of that alone. 

“Erik!” She called after him as he opened her door. He stopped and turned to look at her, tears streaming down her face. “Stay.” 

That one word knocked the wind out of him. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, Naja.” He forced the words out, even though it was painful to do so. He wanted to stay, desperately so. But he knew she would hate herself and him in the morning if he did. 

“I don’t want… that,” she clarified, though that was a lie. She did want that, she wanted him to fuck her senseless so she forgot everything else. But she was strong enough to resist that. She was not strong enough to resist the part of her that just needed someone there. “I just… don’t want to be alone tonight. Please.”

That was all Erik needed to hear. He walked back over to her bed and slipped in beside her, his strong arms pulling her onto his chest. She curled up into his side and immediately relaxed, no longer jumping or tensing when loud thunder rolled through. They had done this countless times as teens and it felt just as easy and simple as it was back then. 

Even Erik felt at peace, his usual restlessness gone as they slept soundly in each other’s arms. 

When Naja woke up the next morning, she was shocked to find her body pressed against a hard chest. Before she could even open her eyes, the events of the night came back to her. 

What the fuck did you do? A voice accused her. 

She immediately extracted herself from Erik’s arms, causing him to shift and open his eyes. 

Awkward silence stretched between them as they stared at each other. Naja did not know what to say. One bad night and she had invited him into her bed? How sad, how cliche, how fucking stupid could she be? 

As if he could sense or see her internal downward spiral, Erik immediately climbed out of her bed and offered. “If you don’t want it to mean anythin’, then it doesn’t have to. Just a friend comforting a friend and I don’t plan on tellin’ anyone. We’re good, Naja.” 

Except… it did mean something. She could lie and say it didn’t but it did. It meant something that he came to her rescue, that he stayed even though she gave him no real reason to show her any kindness. It all meant something to her. As much as she did not want it to, it did. That rope that held her from falling into the sea of him? Well, it was so close to giving out and there was no materials to reinforce it. 

Last night was the safest she had felt in years… in the arms of the man she thought she hated most on this planet. Was she so prideful that she could reasonably ignore that? Erik said he wanted to prove that he changed… perhaps she should give him that chance. She was not betraying who she was now by doing so. She was honoring that some part of her, however small, still needed him in some way. And if 15 years of pretending that was not the case did not make the feeling go away, perhaps it was time to acknowledge that the feeling simply would never go away. 

“Thank you. See you at breakfast,” she whispered as she hugged her robe around her body. She felt exposed and not just physically. 

He nodded and started walking toward the door. However, before he could leave, she said, “For dinner… no where we went when we were together the first time.” 

He paused and glanced back at her. Naja took a tentative step toward him. 

“Every cell in my body is telling me not to do this. But… you said you’ve changed. So show me. But this is it… this dinner you fought for is it. The only chance you’ll get again to show me something different than the Erik who broke me. Don’t make me regret trusting you again.” 

“You won’t. And that’s a promise I can keep. See you at breakfast.

Tag list: @miyuhpapayuh @pipsqueak-98 @injerafiend @themakingsofdion @lishabaybee @certifiedlesbianbaddie @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @dangerous-history @roguekiki @mysteryuz @shyblackgurl

***

A/N: Alright Naja is giving him a chance? Sort of? lol drop a comment and let me know what you thought and how you think their dinner is going to go! As always, thanks for reading!