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buckyhoney-library · 4 years ago

Text

volume control, b.b

A/N: Hope all is well, please give me feedback about what you think about this one, I had a lot of fun writing this one!

Request: Hi, I'm not sure if your taking requests right now. But if you are, could you do a Bucky x reader smut where the reader loses her voice so Bucky tries to see how loud she can get in bed without her voice? Thank you. You're an amazing writer.

Warnings: language, 18+, overstimulation, oral (fem rec), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (no glove, no love)

Word Count: 2.8k

Your POV

The warm ginger flavored tea cooled the burning sensation of my throat. It seemed to be the only thing that I had tried that had calmed the feeling. Laryngitis had made an appearance this week, completely wrecking the use of my voice. Every time I tried to speak; I sound like a boy going through puberty.

The last couple of days had the worst in terms of soreness- luckily that part is over. All that seems to be left of the illness is the voice cracks and inability to talk about a whisper. It has become more annoying than anything.

Every time respond to Bucky, you could see the amount of self-control it was taking not to laugh or make a joke about the croaking.

Dressed in only black spandex and a t-shirt, I pulled myself off the couch with my empty mug in hand. The couch seemed to be my home for the past week. I had called out of work for the week. Knowing that trying to talk to clients while sounding like a pubescent boy wouldn’t be very professional.

Calling out of work had proven to be more beneficial in more ways than one. It allowed more time to be able to spend more time with my moody boyfriend and catching up on shows that I had been putting off.

Bucky called off his avengers’ duties this week and took care of me while I wrestled with the illness. Trading in his weapons for running to the store to grab more boxes of tea, throat lozenges, and a variety of ramen.

“How many of those have you been though?” Bucky questions walking past me pouring the hot water in my mug.

I pulled out a fresh box, ripping the cardboard lid open. It really did seem like we tried everything to relieve the pain. Spoons of honey, throat lozenges, saltwater, nothing helped other than tea. This means I have been drinking it like a madwoman.

“This is the second box since last night,” My voice cracking at the end. We’re making slight progress, the voice cracks getting further apart. I gesture to the bottle of honey; he grabs it from the counter handing it to me, shaking his head.

“You should probably slow down, you’re not gonna have enough for later.”

“That’s why I have you to get me more,” This time he doesn’t hold back on the laughs when he hears the faint cracks and strain. I turn back around in protest of his action, pretending to be upset at him.

In reality, it was hard to stay irritated with him when he laughs. The pureness of the sound and the smile that would take up his whole face never failed to make me smile.

He comes up from behind me, wrapping his arm around my torso. With his body pressing against mine, the coolness of the metal against my arms sent shivers down my spine. The hair on his chin tickling my shoulder, watching me as I finish pouring the honey.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, you’re not feeling good” He mumbles, his lips nipping at the base of my neck. Moving my neck to the side, granting him more access to it.

Bucky peppering kisses along my neck and shoulder. This action causing me to giggle and buck my hips against his and gripping the edge for the counter for support. A small breathy groan leaves his mouth when my hips made contact with his.

“I’m feeling fine now,” I manage to whisper without the croaking sound. He twists my waist, forcing my body to turn and face his. I look up at his blue eyes, they were darker than normal. His facial hair grown out a bit making him look softer and cuddlier.

“You sound better,” Bucky taunted, his voice had gotten lower and his eyes looking down at the gap between our bodies.

“Does it?” As soon as I thought my voice wasn’t going to crack, the words fall out cracked and broken. Ruining the seriousness of my tone.

Bucky rolls his lips in holding back a laugh.

“So good, baby,” Bucky slides his hands underneath the bottom of my shirt.

A breathy whine escaping my lips, feeling his cool hand along the sides of my hips. His eyebrows rose at the sound,

“You sound so sexy,” His tone lowered and his eyes piercing mine. I pressed my body to him, wrapping my bare arms around his neck. His lips connecting with mine and his arms pulling me tighter, trying to eliminate any and all space between us.

I can feel his bulge forming against my pelvis- all because of a moan.

Sinking into each other, our lips matching in rhythm and pace. A raspy yelp leaving my lips as I feel a harsh smack against my right ass cheek. Completely forgetting the only thing separating it was thin spandex- Bucky’s favorite article of clothing. He says it is one of his favorite things that we have created.

He liked the way it made my ass jiggle and moved with whenever I took a step. He especially went crazy when they’re rid up when I’d grab something from the top shelf in the kitchen, exposing the bottoms of my ass. He never failed to smack it, sometimes leaving his handprint through the fabric.

Bucky’s flesh hand grabbing a fist full of ass and jiggling it himself. His release of the flesh causing me to whine again.

The bulge that was currently trapped in his basketball shorts, started to throb. If only I could take it in my mouth and relieve all the pent-up pressure.

Bucky’s lips moved away from mine but kissing alongside my jawline and down my throat. His hands now gripping my hips preparing me to jump back onto the kitchen island. I jumped, allowing him to guide me onto the cold granite.

With his lips disconnecting from the side of my neck, his eyes peering into mine. It’s as if I could read his mind, knowing exactly what he wants. All I do is nod,

“I want to hear you moan, baby,” His hands teasing the waistband of the spandex. Dipping his fingers inside, but not going far. The feeling making my cunt moisten.

Bucky’s true talent was his ability to tease. He was never in a rush, always took his time making sure that I was dripping before even daring to pull his dick out. It was like he got off on that the sight of the arousal dripping down the sides of my cunt.

“I want to see if you can still get loud,” My breath hitches, and my core tightening. My chest rises and falls heavier at the thought.

As vocal as I am in bed, Bucky never put to the test how loud I could go. He was always satisfied with how vocal I ended being. What he loved, even more, was seeing me struggle to keep quiet. Teasing my clit with his fingers till I couldn’t help but moan.

Bucky’s fingers starting in slow circles, watching me twitch and shudder. He’d dip his fingers inside gathering all the juices and using it to add pleasure. He’d moan at the sight of how visibly hard it was for me to stay silent. Some nights, he’d give me a towel or blanket to bite down on. Other nights, he’d want to see me struggle and wouldn’t give me anything to help.

The moment I would make even the tiniest of whimpers, the pleasure would be ripped from me and I would be left not being able to cum till I could prove I could do it.

Those nights he was ruthless. Edging me till I was in tears.

Every time he’d pull away, making it almost painful to stay quiet the next time.

I spread my legs giving him access to the place that was about to cause me a great deal of regret. His fingers slide inside the waistband of the shorts, bucking my hips at the contact. His fingers quickly being removed before they touched my clit.

“You fucking tease,” My voice was barely audible, his lips curl into a devilish smirk. Without any sort of permission, I removed my shirt. My breast dropped and Bucky’s eyes flickered to my bare chest, lighting up instantly. My nipples already hardening at exposure to the cold air.

Within seconds, Bucky taking one in his mouth and his hand squeezing and kneading the other harshly. Eagerly tugging on my nipple with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. I whimpered with every tug. I could see the smile on his face when I looked down.

I wrapped my arms loosely around his head, keeping him focused on my breast. The only movement being when he’d move off the other giving attention to it. The nipping and tugging making my cunt completely soaked. I could feel it soaking through the spandex. The harsh treatment towards my breasts making the ache between my legs so strong, I thought Bucky could feel it.

Bucky took his time giving each breast a moment to be assaulted, leaving them both sore. I silently prayed that my cunt was next.

Bucky pulled away from my breasts, removing his shirt. The sight of his abdomen and dog tags, causing my pussy to throb a little harder. He places lips on my collarbone, slowly laying back on the counter and shoving the opened mail and assignment files on the floor.

The combination of the cold granite and his hand made my back arch. He placed small kisses down my stomach till he got to my naval- that’s when he started to drag his tongue down till he got to the band of my spandex. I hold my breath as he removes my shorts, finally exposing my slick cunt.

I pushed my hips into the counter motioning the need for something to relieve the throbbing.

“So pretty, baby…” Bucky murmurs sliding his middle finger down the sopping wet folds, teasing my entrance. His finger only sliding into the first knuckle, he still standing while he does so. A scratchy moan getting past my lips.

“Yes, baby, I want to hear you.” Without warning he inserts two fingers and curling them, hitting the spongey tissue. My walls start contracting.

My throat tensing as I unexpectedly whine at the feeling.

“Good girl, I know you can get louder.” Bucky eyes not leaving mine, I am now propped on my elbows and grinding my hips into his fingers. He adds his metal thumb to my clit, rubbing the bud at an agonizingly slow pace. Bucky removed his fingers from my cunt, bringing them to my lips.

I open my lips enough for his fingers to enter. I sucked the clean, tasting myself. The saliva from my mouth being used as lubrication before he slid them back inside. The circles around my clit become faster. Our eyes met and his pace quickened. My jaw-dropping from the pure pleasure of his fingers. His mouth dropping with mine and his eyes darkened as he watched my body start to jerk.

A string of curses left my mouth and my vocal cords struggling to get any sound out.

“You’re doing so good” I laid back down, feeling my limbs fall weak to the feeling of my orgasm approaching. The soreness of my throat getting tighter, but not caring.

Bucky crouched down coming eye to eye with my cunt, still fingering fucking my entrance. His thumb left my clit, but it was replaced with his lips. His tongue swirling around the bud. His facial hair scratching the sides of my legs adding more sensation down there. His fingers haven’t stopped, if anything they had gotten faster.

My eyes rolling back, not being able to properly keep them open. I groaned and gasped at the fast-approaching orgasm. There was no denying that this would wreck my voice even more than it was before, but the feeling of his tongue and fingers making the future pain bearable.

“Fuck!” I went into pure ecstasy. I jerked my hips towards his mouth, my lower half becoming incredibly sensitive. Bucky doesn’t even seem to notice my body twitching. I gripped the kitchen towel beside me,

“Bucky, I-“ I was interrupted by his fingers curling again hurling me over the edge. My throat tensing again, it felt like it was bleeding inside.

Bucky continues to attack my cunt with his tongue. His fingers leave my hole and join his other hand holding my hips down. I didn’t know how much more of the pleasure I could take.

“Such a good girl, you taste so good.” His voice muffled against my throbbing pussy as he licks the rest of the arousal up. I manage to prop myself up again, our eyes meeting again.

His mouth glistening from my juices. His eyes don’t break eye contact, staring at me as a string of spit drips onto my clit. I watched in awe of him, he licks it up flicking my cunt one last time. My body has cooled down from the brutal assault.

“You’re doing so well, princess.” He brought himself up, I see the wet spot against his briefs. He was soaked through with precum. The tip was red and swollen, looking like it was going to burst with only a few strokes.

“But I know you can do better,” I sit up completely and watch as he frees his dick. It’s glistening with his liquid, reach to take hold of it in my hand. Bucky stops my hand from doing so, guiding it around his neck. Bucky gives his cock a few strokes, before sliding it up and down my folds.

His cock twitching against them.

The harsh usage of my voice was starting to affect my ability to even get any sound out at all.

Bucky pushes slowly into me and in return, I clawed at his back. Our bodies have no room in between us anymore, my forehead pressed against his shoulder. His pace quickening. His cock stretching my walls and filling my cunt. The size of him never fails to amaze me.

With all I might, I managed to croak out a shocking volume:

“Faster, please Bucky,” He whined at the sound of my raspy plead.

His thrusts turning into pure pounding at this point. His arms tightly wrapped around my torso. With the support around my back, my head falls back at the feeling of his cock ramming into me.

“You’re doing so good taking my dick,” He peppers kisses around my throat and collarbone.

My nails digging into his skin.

My moans are loud, and the pain of my throat was masked by the intense pleasure building in my stomach. I couldn’t even think with his cock inside me. My orgasm building as his pace becomes inconsistent. He was close as well.

I was surprised he lasted this long considering how he went in, already wanting to cum. All that was coming out of my mouth were a mix of curses and moans. His eyes lighting up with every sound that fell from my lips.

“I don’t how much more I can take,” My voice was in shreds, it was painful trying to speak at this point, but I couldn’t conceal them anymore. Not with his current speed and power.

“Cum all over this dick,” With his approval, my walls start pulsating and my forehead falls back against his shoulder. I watched his dick disappear inside me while I cried in pleasure, my legs quivering at the intense pleasure.

Tears welling as the pain in my throat was becoming too much. Bucky powered through my orgasm, before his cock twitching inside me. His load bursting inside me. Bucky holds us in the same position while we are recovering from our highs. My pussy is milking every last drop of him, whimpering one last time as he pulls out.

My breathing still heavy and the piercing pain in the back of my mouth becoming more prominent. I lay back against the counter, catching my breath.

“You got so loud, baby, I’m so proud of you,” Bucky coos while grabbing the kitchen towel that I was previously using as a grip.

He glides the fabric against my cunt, whipping away his cum that was leaking out of me. I twitch with the contact with my clit. He takes my hands and pulls me back up to meet his eyes. I try to speak but wince at the pain shooting through my throat like daggers. His face instantly filling with worry.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- “He begins to panic, but I grab his wrists,

“It’s okay,” The only volume I could speak in being below a whisper. I hop off the table picking up my discarded clothes, sliding them back on. I bend down, picking up his briefs, and hand them to him.

“It was worth it,” I chuckle. He takes the briefs from me and looks at the abandoned mug.

“I’ll just have to get you more,”

#Bucky Barnes #Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes imagine

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

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call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh holy holy heck this chapter is SO DAMN EXCITING hehehe I had sosososo much writing and doing all the research!! please let me know if there is anything factual/cultural that I need to fix! I tried the best I could although I most def am not an expert in Egyptian culture so I appreciate it a lot :) hehe i hope ya have fun reading this chapter teehee oh! also I love hearing what you thought of it too! :D

Four

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, several mentions of food and alcohol as well as getting tipsy/drunk that good, good making out, suggestive themes

CWs: mentions of guns, mentions of knives, themes of jealousy (expressed by the reader)

Word count: 7.5k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

“Well, we’re in Cairo alright.”

Two tugged the amazed young stow-away-student, Seungmin, by the hand of his backpack to keep him from running into one of the palm tree planters decorating the terminal. The young man had nearly slept the whole flight due to the length as well as the exasperation that he had just been through. While his eyes were still darkened from his nap, his glossy pupils still wondered all around him.

“I take it back. I’m so glad that I almost died so I could end up here with you guys.”

Jeongin slapped him from the backside of his head. “Never be thankful for almost dying. Life is a lot more fucking fragile than you think. This isn’t just some joyride--”

“--Ease up F.” You interrupted your partner as you shouldered your bag. The kid had already been through enough already: he didn’t need accosting on top of it all.

The dashing prince sighed out and stretched his arms. “Ahhhh Cairo. It’s been a while; too long actually.”

The airport was humid: the kind of sticky warmth that dripped down your neck in a matter of seconds to then get caught above your lip. It wasn’t much help to the anxiety that already had seeped into your veins. The closer you got to a gun the more comfortable you would be. You and the other two guards created a formation around the prince with two in the front and the other in the flank. While each of you were dressed in regular street clothes, your responsibility of his detail still hung over your head with a severe air.

Chan threw his arm over the young student with an obscene grin. His hair had become a little disheveled from the plane seat and his hoodie, but he didn’t appear to mind. Seeing him so normal was somewhat of an odd change to your previous unbreakable impression of him.

“Seungmin my friend, you’ve never lived until you’ve been to Cairo. I’ve never seen another place so enriched in history in my whole life...it puts my kingdom to shame. It’s almost like...you can just feel the time here: hundreds of thousands of years...beauty, art, food, industry...I’ve got a thing or two to learn.”

Seungmin nodded at the prince’s grandiose gestures in the terminal with an enamored smile. “I can’t wait to see it!”

Your partner put a firm hand on the prince’s back to guide him to the baggage claim. “We won’t be here for long, so, don’t get too excited. We’ve come here for one reason and we shouldn’t dally otherwise.”

The young boy appeared to frown, and Two bit his lip with a little chuckle. “Way to crush the kids dreams F.”

“You know the mission, J.” Jeongin gritted his teeth with the words. “Everything is set, there will be a car waiting for us in the garage, and at the hotel we’ll have anything we need.”

Prince Chan lulled his head back with heels clicking on the flooring. Rogue strands of his hair hung over his sunglasses where he threw a look back at you while pulling them down.

“Don’t forget our little deal Bee? We’ll have time for a little pleasure.”

The white haired agent rolled his eyes with gusto then adjusted the royal’s glasses over his face. “We’ve still got to be careful, you Highness. We never know where they could have eyes.”

“I know where I’ve got mine...” He turned back once more to throw his cockiness in your general direction.

“Listen to F, your Highness...if you want to live.”

“Oooo. Feisty as ever, Bee. I love it when you bite back.” Chan turned to his new pet, Seungmin, “She’s really something isn’t she?”

The young man nodded, but not necessarily because he agreed, but it just seemed like it better to agree with a prince than to disagree with him.

The air appeared to turn even thicker in the summery and arid city and your group approached the parking lot half shaded. Outside of the cement lot, iridescent waves of heat wiggled on the horizon, and further, the astonishing urban sprawl of Cairo, and just over it, the stretch of the Nile and Giza. Palms and other varieties of plants spotted the landscape and above it all, a perfectly crystal blue sky streaked with thin clouds. Had the circumstances been different, you really would have wished to have been there for pleasure.

“This one. Right here.” Jeongin announced upon spotting the black armored sedan. It wasn’t the most inconspicuous vehicle, but you were prioritizing safety over aesthetics. Your partner touched his index fingerprint to the car door’s invisible panel, and it flashed blue just as the lock had at the safehouse with the ticking clock insignia.

Two whipped his head around to make one last check of the surroundings before taking off his sunglasses and reddened eye. “Get in. Both of you.” He urged the prince and the student. He popped the drivers side open to find a different pair of glasses in the storage compartment: gold framed aviators.

“Huh,” He said happily while putting them on. “This is more my style.” He rummaged around a bit more to find a new pair of black framed glasses there too. “Fox! Think fast!” He threw them over to your partner who sighed out with relief.

“Thank god.”

The trunk opened with a mechanical sounding creek, and you lifted up the trunk bed to find your whole arsenal: Heckler & Koch MP5′s submachines, Remington 870 shotguns, and Glocks complete with thigh holsters. Among the pile of metal, various knives and other weapons were held in foam holders.

“They’ve got knives back there?” Two asked while pulling the rearview mirror to see.

“Oh yeah. What? You more of a knife guy?” You teased while looping your thigh holster over your cargo pants. It fit just right.

The illusive man popped his gum with a shiny smile. “‘Don’t ever have to reload them...that’s what I’m saying.”

“Thank you Carroll.” Jeongin sighed upon seeing the thick laptop among the weapons. “Finally I can do some real work. That kid’s damn Chromebook was killing me. I nearly short circuited it trying to connect to our network.”

“You what?!” Seungmin was suddenly much more interested.

“Dont worry yourself too much, its still fine.”

“Are there cameras in here?” You quickly asked your partner.

“Agency should’ve fried them a long time ago. Why?”

From the trunk bed you sized up the Glock to feel its weight and how cool it settled into your sweating hand. You unloaded the magazine to see that it had already been filled.

“Carroll. She really is too kind to us.” You slid the magazine back in then, pulled back the slider to lock it once more, catching Chan’s adoring glance.

“Something interesting pretty boy?”

The prince appeared to shiver a little, but brushed it off sighing, “Oh, nothing.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Either it was Carroll or the King, but someone had spared no expense on the young prince. The sun set upon the sparking Nile where you had arrived at the Four Seasons Hotel Cairo at Nile Plaza.

Anything for His Royal Highness The Prince.

The towering and gleaming building was a sight to behold in and of itself. It was nestled right into the riverside anchored with several leisurely sailboats bopping in the evening breeze. As day crept into night, the city grew with a swell of lights washing as far as you could see. Extensive bridges and roadways glowed with headlights and every building appeared to be illuminated along with more boats strolling down the river in a rainbow of colors and music.

The prince craned his head as close to the window as he could and rubbed together his hands excitedly. He looked from you to your partners, finally making a disapproving scoff.

“Come on. You’re not just a little excited to be here?”

“We’re here on business, how many times do we have to explain?” Jeongin typed away at his computer from the front seat.

“Bee?” He looked back to you with a hopeful little glint to his eye.

“Like Fox said...tomorrow is our appointment with White Rabbit, then we’re on the first flight back home for you.”

The young prince frowned, but this quickly faded once he had seen the golden brass doors to the magnificent hotel. Seeing the state that the four of you were in, it was a bit comical that you had rolled up to a place such as this. Immediately a valet and bellhop jogged up to the car wearing perfectly pressed uniforms and spotless shined shoes. Little did they know you had no belongings to your name...the rest was waiting in your suite: the royal kind.

Seungmin cranked his neck to take in the scale of the building in all of it’s regal glory and let out an airy laugh his with his backpack straps snapped tight.

“Holy shit.” He exclaimed with a giant smile

Two rose a “no thank you” hand to the valet, and asked him where the garage was in perfect Arabic. The gesture surprised you...as many things did with that man. Jeongin gave a little nod in appreciation to the bellhop and expressed with his own broken version of Arabic that you group had no luggage. The young man was confused, but still gladly took the bills that Jeongin had slipped into his hand for the inconvenience.

“We’re staying here?” Seungmin wondered while he followed you in.

“When you travel with The Prince, it comes with some perks.” Chan tore off his glasses with a particularly prideful grin.

“I feel like I need to pay for just...breathing in here.”

Indeed, it was a luxurious and grand place. The atrium was patterned with various plush lounge chairs and benches and the path was made of emerald green marble tiles with swirling designs of beige loops. Thick, round columns also supported the ceilings in the lobby, and crystal glass chandeliers sparkled. On several tables, massive floral arrangements had been freshly placed, and you wondered how much the hotel must've paid for them to look that good just to have them replaced the next day.

A couple formalities were exchanged with the worker at the front desk, and soon the keycards to the royal suite were placed into your hands. Seungmin held his piece of plastic as if it were a gold bar in his hands whereas Chan shoved it right into his front pocket.

“Everything that we should need should be up in the room.” You told the group who were too distracted to hear what you had just said.

Just before you had entered the elevator, a tug at your sleeve stopped you in your tracks. Jeongin pulled you back, nodding at Two to go with the others up first.

“Remember what we talked about before?” He muttered in the hollow and stone corridor. “About the prince?”

“I need to stay beside him?”

Your partner nodded with a furrowing brow. “We’re out in the open here, it’s a big city...anyone could be watching us. No distractions, no messing around, no anything. We see White Rabbit and we leave. Hell, I’m even inclined to make sure he doesn’t leave the room...”

“Jeongin...” You squeezed your partner’s shoulder which felt stringy and tense under your fingertips. “I got it. Trust me. He won’t leave my sight. I promise.”

“..Okay.” He said with a nervous brush to his hair, then he pressed the elevator button with his knuckle.

“You...okay?”

The young man appeared to snap out of a trance. “What? ...Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m keeping it together fine. It’s just...there’s a lot riding on this mission. I don’t...”

The gold and reflective elevator dinged to the ground floor.

“We can’t disappoint Carroll with this one. There’s too much riding on it...I can’t disappoint Carroll.”

You invited your partner into the marbled and mirrored interior of the small space.

“Don’t worry, we won’t.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Even without the help of his royal helpers, Chan managed to clean himself up nice...provided, only the finest clothes had been sent for him to wear. While they weren’t the usual designer labels that he was used to, it was clear that they had been picked out from the finest markets and boutiques in the area. Chan, as he always was, was a prince to the full extent of the word. After a shower and some perfume to his chest, he was the same man that you had been introduced to.

A loose linen shirt swayed from his frame with little regard for the usage of buttons. He wore slacks that had been pressed made of a kind of fabric that you had never seen before, but looked airy and comfortable. As always, there was a small assortment of shoes for him to choose from as well. He picked brown leather loafers, then tucked up his sleeves to reveal his arms; scratched as they were, but still strong and spiderwebbed with thick veins.

Arrangements had been made for you to share one of the bedrooms with him--as much as you had fought it at first. Chan was thrilled with the idea, and gladly let you settle into his room with your small assortment of sidepieces and modest set of clothes by regulation of The Agency. While it had mostly been denim button downs and several kinds of functional trousers, they had sent an evening gown.

The silky white fabric was not unlike the dress that had worn for the gala, but it appeared to be even more sultry once you held it to your frame. The thin spaghetti straps barely held to your shoulders and the back dipped nearly halfway down your back.

Knowing the man that you had an appointment with, you figured the dress would make it just a little bit easier to talk to him. Along with it, there was a matching set of diamond earrings and a necklace that glinted with the same sheen of the sea.

“You’ll look gorgeous in that.” Chan said while slipping on a wristwatch. “I’m sure that it will suit you perfectly.”

The wooden bedside nightstand creaked when you put your holster and Glock in with a matching matte black knife. You had to be careful with that one, as it had nearly cut your finger upon inspection earlier.

“Hm. I think the both of us know that you’d prefer it on these lovely marble floors rather than on me. Correct?”

The confident prince strode across the room in the dim lighting of a couple lamps with stained glass shades. Outside of the balcony attached to your room, the sheer curtains blew in the night air and distorted the city lights across the river. Further, Cairo Tower surged with a pink light wrapping around the length were the cylinder pierced the sky.

“Maybe.” He tutted, then crinkled the king-sized bed where he sat. The prince’s disposition was alluring, there was no denying. He tiled his head to inspect you further, jaw clenching with a sharp angle and a testing glare to his brown pupils. The man smiled slightly while rubbing his index and ring finger down the sleeve of your considerably less scratchy blouse.

“I hope that during our time here Bee, I’ll get to know you a little better. I’m...really looking forward to our drink later. I made reservations for us.”

“Reservations? When did you do that?”

“Oh. When you were showering.” He smirked at his sneaky plans unbeknownst to you.

“If you think that I’m letting you go anywhere else besides this hotel--”

“--Bee?” The young royal grew quieter, softer, careful even. His hand cascaded from your arm down to your waist where he tentatively went to grab at your hip and squeeze lightly there.

While your first reaction was to swat him away, your second crept up on you unexpectedly, and swelled with a kind of confused euphoria feeling the pressure of him on your body. You let his hand linger there, thumb pressed into your hipbone.

“You don’t need that dress to be beautiful.”

His words snapped you back; sickly sweet, and sticky in your chest. You cast his hand off of you.

“You’re crossing the line, your Highness. Don’t...don’t touch me again.��

The royal sighed as he rose, then inspected his face in the sizeable mirror. Each of his cuts and scars had been skillfully covered with makeup the best he could manage.

“Bee, I’d cross multiple lines for you. I thought you knew?”

“THIS BED IS FUCKIN’ AMAZING!!” Seungmin called from the opposite of the suite.

The prince smiled, then followed you to the door.

“I’ve already got enough on my hands, your Highness. I ask that you not distract me.”

“Distract you?”

As soon as you had said it, regret bit at the tips of your ears. You couldn’t meet his teasing glances, but rather slid one of your more discrete sidepieces into your crossbody bag--as if guns as such could be such a thing.

“I-I...I’ll sleep on the couch.” You then resolved out loud, however the prince chuckled at your sudden break.

“As you wish Bee.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“I think that this is the best meal that I’ve ever eaten in my entire life!!”

Seungmin kicked his legs under the table to the embarrassed glances of both Jeongin and Chan. Before you, the prince had ordered a variety of both cold and hot mezzah dishes with a couple main entrees for you to share. While he was the only one to drink, he indulged in the most expensive wine that the hotel had to offer. Granted, everything would be paid for in cash from The Agency, however the Prince swore up and down that anyone could order anything that they wanted and that The Agency would be paid back in full. You and your partners ate modestly, however the young student didn’t hold back. As the boy shoved his face, it appeared to make the prince happy to see him eating so well.

You were still an odd group, and garnered curious glances from other restaurant guests. While they were only glances in passing, they still didn’t make you feel any better. You had already drawn enough attention to yourself with you being an odd mix of foreigners who each held themselves differently. You could sense that you partner felt it too while he sipped at his seasonal soup with eyes up to scan the room as he did so.

Chan threw his arm behind your chair to take in the rest of the room: perfectly decorated with jade green chandeliers and perfectly symmetrical wallpaper and furnishings. It was as if he felt somehow content with your strange little group; like he was the ringleader of it all or some king of the round table. For a moment, he paused to watch the way that the boats passed by on the river from the window nearest to him and sighed. Knowing him, he was probably enjoying running for his life in this way.

Two cleared his throat and unbuttoned his fashionable suit jacket as the waiters came to clear the table for dessert.

“So. What are the specs for tomorrow?”

Jeongin fiddled with his glasses, then dabbed away at the corners of his mouth. “He’s invited us to come around 11pm. He wants us to dress up too--as I’m sure you’ve all seen the clothes that have been provided for us. He apparently loves his formalities, but, anything to make him feel more comfortable I suppose. His men will meet us in the front and take us to him, then we try our best not to fuck it up.”

“--Which we won’t.” You soothed your partner.

Seungmin perked up, “I’m coming too?”

“How else are we going to look after ya, kid?” Two ruffled up the young man’s hair.

“W-wait. Didn’t you say that it’s a club? Will they even let me in? I’m not like, 21 yet? I mean, I will be in a couple months--”

“--Ahhh you’re so cute.” Chan beamed. “If you’re rolling with us that doesn’t matter.”

Seungmin blushed and played with the condensation of his water glass. “Oh.”

Your partner shifted in his seat. “Speaking of. Considering that you’re “one of us” now. We need to discuss something important with you. Your identity.” He looked over to you to finish the rest of the speech that had been pushed off for just a bit too long.

“Your name...is your most valuable asset. It’s the only thing about yourself that you can keep for yourself. No one else should know it besides you...and, well, us. If they know your name, they know your family, they know where you live, where you go to school, even that girl that you had a crush on in the fourth grade. Got it?”

Seungmin gulped dry with blown out eyes. “I-I think that I understand.”

“What do you want us to call you from now on?”

He paused, considering towards the ceiling. ”Well...if you’re B, and he’s F...and he’s J...I could be S? Simple enough right?”

“S it is then.”

The waiters arrived with every dessert possible: chocolate cake, Crème Brule, fruit cheesecake garnished with mint, as well as traditional desserts like Om Ali and Mehalabiya--a type of milk pudding dressed with delicate, pink, edible flowers.

Seungmin--now dubbed S--made happy little eating sounds while he tried a little bit of everything.

“Thank you.” You finally spoke to the prince, who now smelled strongly of Lotus and Jasmine.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind treating my friends.”

The word hung in the air, and you didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Friends.

“Where is this reservation that you mentioned?”

He took a swing from his crystal glass with finesse. “Hm. That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Jeongin told me that I need to keep an eye on you, you know that? It would be best if we didn’t leave the hotel at all--”

“--But what would be the fun in that?” The prince nearly pouted.

From the others side of the table, Two in his aviators brushed off his lap before standing. “I’m going to get some sleep, if that’s alright with you? I’m feeling pretty jetlagged and I want to be prepared for tomorrow. Excuse me.”

The slender man bowed to you at the table, then even deeper to the prince.

“What was that about?” Jeongin muttered while he poked at the thin caramel layer of his French dessert.

“Actually, I think I want to head to bed too, I’m stuffed.” Seungmin rubbed his belly in his contentment. “Also...I think I might have homework due...heh. I don’t know...I’ve got to figure out all these all these time differences and stuff.” He pushed in his chair then gave the prince a deep bow. “Thank you, your Highness.”

“My pleasure.” Chan said with a tiny bow back. “Rest up, kid.”

With the empty holes at the table, the silence was deafening.

“And then there were three.” Jeongin yawned. “Bee? Wanna do some laps in the morning? I saw that they had a pool? Wanna see if you can beat my record...again?”

“Psh. I was coming off that biochemical cocktail the last time we tired. You had an advantage.”

“Then you’ll beat me? Hm! I look forward to that.” Your adorable partner flashed the first smile that you’d seen in a couple days. You missed it, you realized.

“Sleep tight Bee. Goodnight your Highness.”

“Thank you Fox.” The prince mirrored his warm smile.

Knives and forks clinked on china in the dining room, and music softly payed the soundtrack of the evening. A low hum filled the space where the tourists and patrons chatted among themselves. It was peaceful and normal amidst everything that had been pricking your skin and plaguing worry over your mind. The prince merely sighed, sparking eyes reflecting the candles dying out on the table.

“And now it’s just the two of us.”

“Seems like it.”

“Can I whisk you away now?”

“Whisk? Who said that I would allow any whisking?”

“Come on...Bee. Just this one time? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

You laughed out incredulously at the comment. “You out of all people can’t promise something like that.”

“I guess you’re right about that. But...still, I won’t try to make a scene or anything.”

The royal placed his napkin on the table with his knife and fork respectfully tilted off the edge of his plate.

“Follow me?”

Chan held out his hand. It was pink with heat and scraped a little from the glass that had pierced the fragile flesh. In some way, you had felt a twinge of guilt seeing the small injury knowing that you couldn’t have protected him well enough then. You allowed him to lace your fingers with yours, and felt the rough cuts of his scars in your palm.

You had promised to yourself that he would never know such pain again.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Annnd...this is it!”

You had taken all of twenty paces outside of the hotel when Chan gestured with open arms to the riverfront. Just at the riverbank, a steamboat was anchored with open doors for hotel guests to enter. The massive, multideck, white steamboat shone like the moon peaking at the ocean’s horizon. Each of the semi-circle windows were lined with white lights and from the inside, the delightful sound of laugher and live music spilled out to the glossy water of the Nile.

“W-what is this?”

“Well…it’s a dinner cruise but I just signed us up for the bar part. Are you...surprised? I thought that it must be pretty safe considering that we’re on the water and no one can drive up and shoot at us.”

“I mean...it’s a bit closed off, but nothing that I can’t handle.”

The prince held out his arm for you to lead the way, then took your hand to help you watch your step down the stairs. Chan provided his name to the conductor in elegant sounding Arabic, leaving you shocked.

“Y-you speak Arabic too?”

Chan chuckled once more, taking your hand in his to bring you down the creaking wood deck with swinging with lanterns above your heads.

“As a royal and diplomat, it’s best for me to know how to communicate if I might need to.”

“I must say your Highness, I am definitely impressed.”

“What? You thought I was just another pretty face?” The charming prince escorted you to a room within the steamboat that was lined with red velvet carpets and small bar tables with tea candles and water lilies floating in a shallow dish. He pulled out your chair before his own, then settled with hands folded in his lap. “I’m trained in hand-to-hand too, although I could use a refresher; that was so long ago, back when I went to school.”

“Hand-to-hand? Well! You really are full of surprises.”

The prince appeared smug and faintly amused by the compliment as he crossed his legs under the table and leaned in with his dizzying floral scent.

The waitress appeared and Chan flexed his language skills once more while he ordered a Hemmingway Daiquiri for himself and a French 75 for you. Somewhere off in the distance or perhaps a different part of the boat, louder and more excitable music played along with the echoing claps of those who listened along. Here, it was much quieter, and the loud sound was replaced with a jazz song that you had heard before--likely from your more formative years.

“It’s a beautiful night.” Chan began, “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me. I know that I’ve been a bit forward, but, I appreciate you entertaining me.”

“If I had said no, what would’ve happened then?”

“Well, maybe I would’ve dropped it, but...knowing you...I don’t think that I would’ve given up easily.”

The waitress returned with the drinks on a silver platter: his grapefruit pink and yours the color of a lemon drop.

The royal rose his glass for you to clink with yours, “To...adventures.”

“To adventures.”

With a resounding sound, the glasses met, and you watched the way that the shimmering liquid ripped across the prince’s nose.

The two of you sat for several moments more, saying nothing, but sipping and soaking in the night breeze and the humidity that made your whole body feel blanketed with a sense of calm. You had felt this way before back at the safe house, and it snuck up on you once more. Simply exisiting with the prince provided you with a sense of solace that had long since faded from your life. The sense of responsibility that you felt for the man was noticeable, but you couldn’t help but notice how he provided for you the same sense of safety that you did for him.

Perhaps it was the loneliness of the job and the solitude that came along with it. Was that you craved to be touched? Listened to? Admired? You had distanced yourself from irrational things such as love and other feelings of attachment. In your line of work, people died often, and you had to move on just as fast as their lives had been taken from them. You supposed that you had become unfeeling at this point...but this prince, so full of himself and focused on the material...there was something about him that reminded you how to feel.

“Bee? What are you thinking about?” He asked carefully.

“Oh...nothing.”

“You looked kind of lost here.”

“Was I?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah...yeah. I’m fine. Maybe the drink is just...getting to me.”

“Just one drink?” Chan giggled a bit, “I didn’t take you for being a lightweight Bee. I thought that they gave you like, drinking lessons or something back at that agency of yours.”

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have more than one drink anyway.”

The prince nodded, understanding. “So, what will you tell me about yourself? Is there anything that you’re allowed to tell me? Or...will you always be this mysterious, beautiful, enigma?”

“Me? Enigmatic? Ha! Hardly.”

“Well? What then?” The prince sucked at the lime garnishing his glass. “Since I don’t have the pleasure of knowing your real name, I’d love it if you could tell me something.”

Over the stereo, the muted trumpet played along with the twang of thick upright bass strings,

“I suppose I could tell you how...” Chan leaned in, “I didn’t want to join The Agency. At first.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“It felt like a bit of a last resort and anything that is a last resort is something that can’t come easy.”

Chan titled his head as if to say, I’m listening.

“Life...fucking sucks sometimes. Sometimes...you’re left...living with your sleazy uncle with a letter addressed to you post mortem telling you to carry on the family name if you want to feel some connection to the parents that you never knew.”

The royal cast his eyes down, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“The Agency has been everything I’ve known since I was a teenager. This life...it’s everything. I think in a way I feel obligated to it...since it was what took my parents from me...I owe it to them to do a job that they spent so much energy on so that it wasn’t in vain.”

You stopped, realizing the weight of your words in the air and how they cut like the blade of the knife that you kept tucked in your waistband sheathed in a leather cover. Once the sharp metal was taken from it’s confines, there was nothing to protect those from the damage it could do.

“Bee...I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. That’s terrible. I can’t imagine what it must be like to loose your parents and have been thrown into this life...no one deserves that.”

“Its okay.” You sighed. “I did it to myself. Now, it’s of no concern. I can take care of my own, and I have a new family. I try not to look back.”

As he had done numerous times before that night, Chan’s hand reached out for yours under the table, brushing up against the white cloth.

“I can’t say how much I appreciate you enough for what you do; risking your life for me...I owe you everything Bee.” The prince softened, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand.

The chug of the steamboat hissed softly behind you in that back bar room, and just through the windows, you could see the stars dotting the sky just as they did in any corner of the world. They were a reminder that while some things changed, others didn’t.

The echo of footsteps on the deck clicked, causing you to turn a careful glance back to the direction of the sound. The man who entered was dressed in a casual cotton button up and navy slacks. On the white of his breast, he wore a pin holding the symbol of a crest.

“Lee Minho?” Chan gasped.

“Your Highness!” The handsome man bowed immediately with a startled little smile.

The friendly prince stood immediately upon seeing the other royal to shake his hand. “What a coincidence that we meet again!”

Lee Minho shied with a polite smile while fiddling with his hair that looked to be masterfully styled. “Must be...fated. Or something like that.”

“Are you alright? Last I saw you was at the shooting at the gala. I’m so glad to see that you’re safe. You didn’t get injured I hope?”

This close, Lee Minho had oddly cat-like eyes that were as intense as they were alluring. He was just as you had remembered him to be--put together and polished like a true royal, dastardly handsome with all the right curves to his body, and just enough mystery to him to pique the interest of anyone who had sensed his air--just as the prince had.

“What are you doing in Cairo?” Chan asked, gesturing for the stranger to pull up a chair.

Lee Minho swatted away the question with an annoyed cringe. “Royal stuff, you know how it goes. Everyone is always trying to poke their noses in places where they shouldn’t be...unless they’re looking to get themselves killed. That's why they send me. I’m dispensable.”

“Oh, I’d hardly say that.”

In seconds the prince’s entire body had shifted towards the direction of the other man, and hung onto each of his words as if they were a siren song.

“When you’re not as high up in the ranks as you are your Highness, royalty starts to feel more like servitude than a legitimate position.”

“So, where are you poking your nose?”

Lee Minho’s eyes nervously flicked to you, and Chan realized that he had skipped right over introductions.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce the two of you. Minho, this is Bee, my--”

“--I’m a member of his detail.” You spoke for him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally Lee Minho. I recall seeing you at the gala.”

Minho bowed slightly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

It was obvious that you had made the man uncomfortable, just as you had liked it to be. While you could see what the prince had seen in him, you had the disposition to be much less trusting than his Highness.

“Which royals are employing you? I’d love to know! It’s always exciting for me to learn about who is plotting what. The royal drama keeps me really entertained.”

Minho sat up straighter, then waved a hand for the waitress to come scuttling over.

“Some of my family members. You wouldn’t know them, we’re all dreadfully insignificant to be honest. They heard all this business about those men with the red crests and they’re starting to get scared. After they targeted...you, they’re wondering which royal family might be next...if any. I’m here to find out who they are, their whereabouts, anything else.”

“Wow! That’s actually what we--”

“--And where are you planning on getting this information if I may ask?” You hushed the prince’s loose lips as quickly as you could.

Minho leaned in over the flickering candle to lower his tone, “I heard that there’s an informant here in the city who might now something about this group. They’ve been popping up on national news too as of late. I’m looking to talk to him tomorrow evening. Luckily, I was able to make an appointment but it was no small feat. I had to bribe him to high hell to get him to speak with me.”

“Hm. Sounds familiar.” You mumbled.

Chan’s eyes widened, then he looked back to you to ask for permission. You gave him a nod.

“It seems like we’re here for a common purpose my friend.” The prince leaned in to bridge the gap between them, his hand notably reaching to rest on the other man’s thigh below the table’s surface. “We’re seeking similar information and I think we might be speaking of the same informant.”

“But your Highness, isn’t it dangerous it you to do something like this?”

“Not when I’ve got her around.” Chan threw a sly grin to you across the table. “I’m well protected. And you? Where’s your detail?”

“I’m afraid that I’m out here alone. Like I said, when you’re as low in the ranks as I am...”

“What? That’s terrible!! They aren’t even protecting their own? Bee!!”

“Yes, your Highness?” You already knew where this was going.

“Let’s bring Minho along with us tomorrow! We know that there’s safety in numbers--”

“Your Highness, in case you haven’t noticed, our hands are already a bit full...”

“I can fend for myself.” Lee Minho suddenly piped. “Travelling alone, I’ve picked up a few things about protecting myself. You don’t have to protect me, but, I appreciate the offer.”

“Nonsense! You should come with us! I would feel more comfortable if you did rather than went by yourself.”

Lee Minho gave the royal a smile in his thanks, it was pure and a little adorable you had considered...but that was likely the champagne going to your head.

“Really? I appreciate it, your Highness.”

While you were distanced, you nearly could’ve sworn that the prince had squeezed the other’s leg reassuringly, and you were willing to bet he had rubbed it with his thumb too just as he had done to you.

After long, the waitress returned with Lee Minho’s drink, and the two men chatted like old college buddies while you slipped away at your drink in an attempt to make it last as long as you could. While Chan did try to engage you in conversation, it would never last for long until he would become puppy-eyed over the stranger again. In the end, you wondered if the tipsy prince would’ve also confessed to this man if he had one too many drinks.

The table bumped with their jovial and restless legs, and you could only imagine what wandering hands sought to discover.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The hotel was quiet save for the click of heels on the marble floors from ladies who had just gotten off the steamboat and clung to their husbands in their drunken stupor. They cackled in the empty and golden lobby, then pressed hasty kisses into the stuttering mouths of their husbands who’s mouths then smeared with hot pick lipstick. Chan giggled at the sight while he tripped over his own feet too.

“Ahhhh. Being in love is so cute.” He adored them once you had entered the elevator.

“You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?”

The prince hiccupped, then shook his head. “Unlike you I know how to hold my liquor. I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy I think. Must be the jet lag.”

The tones for each floor beeped in the compartment, and Chan lulled his head back and forth.

“So. Lee Minho huh?” You said, not even able to help yourself. The alcohol had brought you a bit of an edge...so you thought.

“Lee. Minho.” He sighed out dreamily. “What do you think of him?”

“I think I can’t trust anyone as long as I haven’t ran at least three background checks on them.”

“Awww, Bee, you’re so thoughtful of me.”

In the empty hallway, the prince with squinting eyes leaned against the doorframe to the royal suite, reaching out to brush up against your blouse once more. You let him, excusing his drunken state. After he did so, his eyes hazed over with something much different, while he looked exhausted, it was laced with something else: something much more longing.

“Bee...fuck, I really want to kiss you again.”

“Hm. That’s ripe coming from you who was just viciously flirting with Lee Minho.”

You could see his head spinning in his dilated pupils. “What?”

The door clicked open and you less than gracefully lead the prince through the dark to your shared bedroom.

“B-Bee, what are you talking about?”

You scoffed, “I’m not blind, you know.”

“A-are you...jealous?”

“W-what? Fuck no. I’m just...you can’t just...toss people around thinking that they’ll all bend to you.”

Chan sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed at his temples when you turned one of the lamps on.

“I-I was doing that?”

You tore a pillow from the bed as well as the throw blanket at the end. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Good evening, your Highness.”

“Wait! Bee!” The young prince stumbled after you, stubbing his toe against the bedpost in the process. “Ah-FUCK!” He grunted.

“What?” You growled back to him, half shrouded in the darkness of the suite living room.

The royal stumbled out, eyes blank and backlit from the bedroom. While you couldn’t see him fully, you later could assume that there was something in him terribly torn and ripped in that moment that made little sense to him, as it did to you to.

Arms reached out, bodies softly illuminated by the lights of the city, and the prince leaned himself fully into you, pressing bitter tasting lips to yours with a heat and desire that only seemed amplified the breather he had gotten. While he tasted of lime and grapefruits, with a twinge of alcohol. He was just as addictive as any vice. You wanted to feel him. As infuriating as he was, and oblivious, your abhorrence to him was just as strong as your attraction.

“Mm, Bee--” He moaned directly into your mouth while shuffling both of you back to the bedroom.

The prince’s trembling breath floated from his mouth to yours where he used both of his large hands to pull your face closer to his. You knew that in some way, there must have been something ingenuine about the whole scenario, but you didn’t care too much, not when kissing him felt like something. Maybe he had kissed you out of pity, or because he really had wanted to kiss you. You broke for seconds before both of your tangled limbs hit the bed.

“Before...you said that you wouldn’t kiss me.”

“I didn’t make any promises...but, how come...you said that you wouldn’t hesitate...? But you kissed ba--”

You silenced the prince’s words with your own heated kisses that made little sense, only that kissing him as such felt good. You straddled the man while his hungry fingers traced all the way down your back. The prince’s hips sunk into the cushiony mattress, and you screwed him down even harder into it with your own heated hips grinding into him with as much pressure as you could muster.

“This is what you want, right?” You pulled at his lip with your teeth to hear him groan from it.

“Is it...what you want?” Chan got out between more kisses.

You could blame it on loneliness or lack of touch all that you wanted, but it wasn’t even close.

“Wait. Wait.” Chan suddenly interjected.

“What? What is it?”

The prince looked up at you, that haze in his eyes now fading to something much different that wasn’t covered in the lust that he held before.

“Bee...I-I don’t know if I want it to happen this way. It feels...it’s not...”

“Not what?”

He brushed his hand upward now to caress your face, lingering on the side of the peach fuzz on your cheek. “You deserve better than whatever the hell this is.”

“Oh, so when I finally want to fuck you, you’re saying it isn’t right?”

“I’m saying, I’m drunk, it’s late, clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you, and I want to know what it is before we do anything else. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

It might’ve been Lee fucking Minho, or it might’ve been something else much stickier for you to admit, but seeing the prince like this, it was too much. He was gorgeous under you, practically angelic looking.

“I-I’m...complicating things.” You whispered out, and the prince softened even further.

“That’s what it is? Bee, I told that you don’t have to worry about--”

“--Yes. Yes I do...your Highness. I-I can’t feel...”

“Bee--let’s just talk about--”

The prince might’ve said more, but his words faded into murmurs once you closed his door behind you, then crawled onto the couch in Jeongin and Seungmin’s room, locking their door too.

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

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surflove808 · 6 years ago

Text

On Destiel and endgame hysteria

Sometimes I get fired up about some of the BS I see in this fandom and this is one of those moments. This post will be a layercake of sentimentality, disappointment, anger and maybe a wee bit (a lot) of profanity. So, you know. Back on my bullshit.

The show that we love, love to hate or hate to love, for better or worse, will see it's final curtain call at the S15 finale. You don't need me to tell you how impactful it's been and how much it means to so many people for a variety of reasons that extend well beyond it's entertainment value. All it takes is one scroll through social media to get a sampling of the reach of this little-show-that-could and by extension (and because of) it's cast, to see that it's beloved by so many. And it deserves the praise, and the end deserves to be lamented - but like TFW has said over and over, and to paraphrase Frank Sinatra, they're doing it their way. For that? I'm happy.

The show has been described as a "juggernaut" and an "institution", and it is. We all know the themes: Finding *your* family, struggle, perseverance, dedication, making mistakes and not always learning from them (but trying), acceptance, the beauty in humanity even when all hope seems lost, redemption, and love... to name the big ones. Now about Love. "Love" is not threatening to burn down houses if your ship isn't made canon. "Acceptance" isn't threatening the cast, crew, producers and network with lawsuits if your ship isn't made endgame. I saw a few posts like that today that had a very disappointing number of likes and reblogs and I'm kinda furious, to be honest. You fucking twits.

As someone who enjoys the show, and respects the determination, sacrifice, hard work, creativity, and yes - Love - that has been poured into this endeavor, I don't think I'm alone when I say - JUST. STOP. You whining, tantrum throwing, self-important, "wouldn't catch a social cue if it had a $100 bill attached to it and was tossed to you from 3 feet away", obnoxious, divisive children.

Accept what the cast, the writers and Eric Freaking Kripke have told you? No... can't do that. Must hop from one lily pad of delusion to the next and have the gall to be self righteous about it. And then pat yourselves on the back for being alternately clever, threatening and obtuse. You're like the Donald Trumps of the SPN fandom. You're not disliked because of your ship. You're disliked because of your personalities. Let that sink in. No one is marginalizing you. You chose to do this to yourselves AND your beloved ship via your words and actions. You sunk your own battleship and now you’re pissed.

I don't affiliate myself with any ship or the other factions of this fandom.... I don't get it. I'm just a fan. A fan of the story, the acting, the tragedy, the comedy, the characters and the character of the actors involved. I don't know what a good "fan" is... don't care. But I know what a bad one is. A bad one thinks that they can take ownership of someone else's art just because they've "invested" in it.

And I apply it to my own life in this way - Here I am doing my thing, putting my creativity out into the world... and what I create matters to me. Every little bit. I throw myself into the things I'm passionate about. And not everyone is going to be thrilled with what I produce. Some people will never see what I put out there, but word travels fast when you genuinely care about your craft. I do what I do because it drives me, and always has. And I do my best to stay true to MY story. And the thought of someone trying to insert themselves into my story because they think they know my creations better than I do, makes me want to punch throats.

And the thought of a group of people actually threatening me and the people I collaborate with because I'm not making their fantasy a reality?? Hey - get fucked sideways without lube, and throw some sand in there for extra discomfort.

I want you (and you know who you are) to have some accountability. Please tell me in what scenario is your behavior warranted or appropriate. Feel free to DM me. I won't "out" you, and I'll never be abusive - I just need to know why. (bullet pointing this because... reading comprehension)

1. WHY is Destiel is the only representation you'll accept.

2. WHY do you think it's funny or "OK" to harass the creatives on this show constantly when you have absolutely no right to their story?

3. WHY do you think that pushing something so hard will get you what you want?

4, And lastly.... WHY is this so important to you?

Can you possibly survive if Destiel isn't made canon? Do you have other hobbies and interests that can fill your time? Because some of ya'll are acting like this is the Be All End All of your existence and I'm here to tell you - it's really not. If it DOES happen, it will be at the discretion of the showrunner and creatives, and I promise you it won’t be because they caved to the small, yet omnipresent faction of Destiehellers that have annoyed the ever-living fuck out of everyone attached to this show. It’ll be on their terms.

The tantrum strategy stops working after age 4, usually....it just seems some of you are late getting the memo. Thanks to your folks. Well done.

Try to appreciate the show for what it is and always has been. If your expectations are unreasonable and are buoyed by years of manips, misquotes and over-analyzation of brief "moments" between ANY characters, and you feel emotional enough about it to behave badly - it's time for a factory reset. This show has never mislead you - you’ve bought into delusion and over-analysis and straight-up fiction pimped to you by fellow “fans” probably before you even watched your first episode. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve seen. And I’ve seen some shit.

If you’re going to be angry... be angry at your friendly neighborhood Destiel dealer. They chumped you to get more *buy* for their *supply*. Them’s the facts.

That being said.... Can We Just Appreciate The Final Moments That This Amazing Cast And Crew Are Going To Give Us (and you know they will), And Let It The Fuck GO?

You're welcome to block me (you probably should). But before you do that, could you let this sink in a bit? And if you see a fellow shipper being an entitled douche - maybe hold yourself to a higher standard than they do themselves and don't perpetuate it/like/reblog it? Because this behavior is well and truly a shitty way to treat the legacy of this groundbreaking show, and all those that are responsible for bringing it to life.

In other words....Behave. And have some goddamn dignity.

I’m not sure if I’m doing this right, but my response was so long. Eh...whatever. @jessiegail I understand, and please allow me to elaborate. When I was scrolling through the Jensen tags (because the Dean and SPN tags have been overrun by a lot of people with zero respect for the character/show canon, so I stay away anymore. That in and of itself should tell you something)... I was also sharing in the moment, and the news and wanted to see some SPN love and positivity. What I ran into almost immediately was, and I quote: "If they don't make destiel cannon (sic) for the series finale, I'll set their houses on fire. You've been warned." 87 people agreed with @moosewncstr on this sentiment. Now... if it was one shitty person and people steered clear of any affiliation with them for threatening arson because they're completely off their fucking rocker.... that would be easy to ignore. But 87 people?? That’s really, really bad. What I'm seeing and have been seeing, is a hive-mind mentality that doesn't care for acceptance. Doesn't care if it’s abusive. Doesn't care if someone gets their “feelings” hurt. And they absolutely Do Not Care if what they say incites the potential reality of violence, as long as they can force their ship down the throats of as many people as possible and Make It Canon.

And by hive-mind, I mean - NO ONE in the Destiel camp seems to have the degree of autonomy (AKA: Balls) required to rein in the bad apples in their bunch. They either agree or stay silent. So, because you can’t self-regulate, people like me with no concern or desire for your approval have to come in and tell you to knock your shit off. You won’t. But I feel better. And maybe others will feel more comfortable to express their disapproval when shit like this rears its ugly head. Anyone who would think threats (just a joke...hahaha), are acceptable, and those who are in agreement can suck it. And i will not roll over and sing kumbaya with anyone who thinks this is ok. I'm generally careful with the headers and lead-in paragraphs to posts that are potentially inflammatory. A courtesy that is not extended by your brethren. You had ample warning that this post would not be kind to asshole shippers. I don’t think you are one of those people - but, if you’re defending this behavior, I can’t really empathize with you. I also don’t want you to feel targeted. This isn’t about YOU. This is about endemic behavior that has become so toxic, it pretty much can’t be undone. As for paying anything forward, I do not owe people who act like this the time of day, much less a kind word. I have 2 choices: I can stand by and pretend I don't see these things and block, block, block so that I can stay in my bubble. Or, I can take my own little stand on my own little blog and address genuinely disturbing behavior using language of my choice. What I will never do is threaten or abuse any individuals who question my logic. Downside is... you'll get a very long winded explanation. Go, be happy. Enjoy your ship. No one is telling you not to. I'm telling you right now, though - I can't and won't tolerate the bad apples. Best to block me if you're sensitive to the way I word my posts, but understand - I'm not promoting hate or abusive behavior - I'm fighting it. And I will continue to do so as long as I'm on this dumpster fire of a website, because I love this show and I believe all of the creative's, crew and fans deserve some fucking respect.

#SPN Family #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #Destiel #destiehellers #supernatural #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #misha collins

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

Text

FIC: An Equal Serving (baon)

Summary: Coffee isn't exactly an inalienable right, but it should be.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Prejudice Against Monsters, Angst, Comfort

Notes: Erm, this wasn’t on the list of things I was supposed to try to work on today. It came to me at like, 2 am when I couldn’t sleep, and thus, I needed it. So here we are.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The bell above the door jangled cheerily as Edge pushed it open, stepping inside The Beanery. As always, there were plenty of patrons, either sitting at a table with their coffees or waiting patiently in the line, staring at their phones as they shuffled forward until it was time to place their order.

In a corner at one of the booths, Stretch was settled in like he’d been there for hours. He probably had. The chalkboard had a new time recorded on it, a sign he’d ordered some horrific monstrosity when he’d arrived. Around his open laptop was a scattering of cups around him, a sign that he’d already drunk more than his fair share caffeine for the day. That was another good indicator that they were busy; normally Debbie would have cleared them away for Stretch in an attempt to help him hide exactly how many he’d had.

Considering that Stretch usually paid with their shared debit card, it was less than successful, but Edge was both exasperated and amused by the attempt.

He’d been exasperated enough when Stretch texted him he was going to the coffee shop. After what had happened with Jeff, Edge was leery of Stretch going into Ebott on his own, at least until things settled down again. Not that he’d ever demand anything of the sort from him; for one, it was a surefire way to get his obstinate love to do the exact opposite and his twitter would likely be filled with pointed comments about where in the city he was going that day, all by himself like a big boy, and if anyone in particular doesn’t like it, he could tell him where to stuff it up their pelvic cavity.

Not that Edge knew from experience.

That he stopped at The Beanery a couple times a week himself made his argument even thinner and wouldn’t, couldn’t, tell Stretch where he was allowed to go.

But oh, there were days he wished that brilliance of Stretch’s included a healthier amount of self-preservation. Even with the local news siding firmly with Monsters, to the point there had been protesters outside the Ebott Police Station, there was enough online malcontents spreading falsehoods to be worrisome. It wasn’t strictly his job to keep track of anti-monster blogs and online rumors, there was an entire department at the Embassy dedicated to it, but Edge got reports on it daily.

It was a constant balancing act and his husband always somehow managed to be in the middle of it.

The line was moving steadily forward, and Edge was nearly at the counter when it happened. A Human stopped by Stretch’s table, a tall male without a cup or a pastry in hand. Stretch smiled up at him automatically and Edge couldn’t hear what was said, but that smile faded quickly, his eye lights shrinking.

Afraid or angry, most likely a combination of both, and the visceral reminder he’d had outside the Chinese restaurant that Stretch was more than capable of handling himself was a distant thought as Edge automatically started forward.

Only for Debbie to beat him to it. She all but ran from behind the counter, her blonde ponytail bobbing, and she inserted herself between Stretch and the Human fearlessly.

The Human’s words didn’t carry through the bustling noise of the shop, but Debbie’s did, loud enough to send a hush through the shop. “You need to leave, right now!”

Debbie was perhaps five feet tall, if she was wearing shoes. It was always a point of amusement to see her next to Stretch, the way he had to lean down to hug her while she stood on her toes. Her height didn’t keep her from glaring up at the Man, quivering with all the ferocity her tiny form could contain.

The hush allowed the Human’s next shout to carry, echoing into the silence, as he leaned in too close to her to sneer, “It’s cunts like you keeping the government from sending these things back underground where they belong!”

That started Edge forward again, his own vision tinting to crimson. He nearly lashed out at a light touch on his arm, barely catching himself. But it withdrew quickly, and he turned to see the other barista, Hussain, standing next to him.

“Edge,” he whispered urgently, “don’t get yourself in trouble over that asshole, we all saw how the cops were. Let me back her up.”

“You’re here on a work visa,” Edge hissed back. It was true and he knew it, knew all the workers here, either from his own questions or from Stretch chatting happily about them. He knew Hussain, knew Daniel and Alisha and Jennie, and every one of them knew him, always offered him his usual.

This was not the usual.

Hussain only smiled crookedly. “It expires soon, anyway.”

With that, he walked quickly over to where Debbie was arguing with the Man. He said nothing, only stood at her shoulder glaring, and he wasn’t as tall as Stretch, but he still made for an intimidating presence. All the other baristas quickly joined him, and then a few patrons were standing by them, all of them glaring, allowing Debbie to scold and shoo him back like a stray dog until he finally stormed out the door with a few last snarled insults, the bell jangling in his wake.

The smattering of cheers and claps were incongruous as Debbie walked back to Stretch. Her face was reddened, and she scrabbled a tissue from her apron pocket, wiping away angry tears as she sat herself in the booth with Stretch.

The other baristas returned to the counter, smiling and serving as the line slowly shuffled back into place.

Edge stayed where he was, kept his distance for the moment as he listened.

Debbie took Stretch’s hand gently, squeezing. “You okay, sweetie?”

His smile was tremulous but warm, “yeah, but damn, you didn’t have to do that, deb, he could’ve hurt you!”

She lifted her chin, blue eyes flashing. “This is my shop,” she sniffed, “so I decide who stays and goes. I would have called the police but—"

Stretch’s mouth twisted wryly, “yeah, i’m good on that. well, damn, i can’t even post about this on my twitter; when I say everyone clapped, no one will believe me.”

It was a good attempt, but one thing Edge knew was that Debbie was not easily distracted. She looked at him sadly, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry, Stretch. You’re supposed to be safe here. Safe from bastards like that who think they’re so precious to the world when they’re really a waste of oxygen.”

“i am safe,” Stretch assured her, gently. He squeezed her hand, long bony fingers against her fleshy ones. It would be so easy for her to hurt him; with his HP, it would only take the Intent. “i’m safe as houses, deb.”

The feel of a presence beside him made Edge reluctantly look away to see Hussain joining him again. He gave Edge a thumbs up and a wry smile as he leaned in to whisper loudly, “See, she took care of it. No one messes with the badass coffee mama.”

“I heard that!” Debbie called and the laughter that followed eased the last of the tension.

Before Hussain could step back behind the counter to help the others, Edge said his name, stopping him. “If you’re not interested in leaving Ebott to go back overseas, you may wish to apply at the Embassy. Working there would override the limitations of your visa.”

He blinked, considering, and the hope in his dark eyes was palpable. “You really think they’d hire me?”

Yes. “We accept all sorts of qualified applicants for a variety of positions. Apply. You can use me for a reference.”

With that, he finally gave in to the agitated urge in his soul and went over to his husband. Debbie gave over her seat to him with a murmured greeting, pausing to drop a light kiss atop Stretch’s skull before she hurried back behind the counter to help the others.

“hey, babe,” Stretch said, softly. His pale eye lights were gentle, both his hands taking hold of one of Edge’s and it took him entirely too long to realize Stretch was trying to comfort him. How must he look if Stretch was worried for him? His control was taking a battering lately and Edge inhaled slowly, let it out, and worked to school his expression to impassivity. Whether or not he was successful, it wouldn’t fool Stretch, he knew that, and instead, he tangled their fingers together, his gloved ones sliding alongside those slender, delicate bones.

“Hey, love,” he murmured. He drew their joined hands up to his mouth, brushing a kiss across their knuckles. “Do you want to go home?”

“nah,” Stretch’s grin turned lopsided, “ain’t calling this game on account of a little rain.”

“Is that happening often?” Edge asked, low. He glanced around the shop. No one else was paying them any attention; their focus was on their laptops or their companions. There was another group of Monsters sitting opposite them, a few that he recognized, but it was no surprise that the wretched Human would attack Stretch. He was known, popular on the internet and in the city.

That his husband was a target was not a new thought. It was always a painful one.

“nope, first time.” And at Edge’s silent stare, Stretch sighed, “okay, first time since everything went down with andy. i promise. happy?”

“Not really,” Edge said dryly. He kept his hold on Stretch’s hand. “I’d rather you promise to tell me if it happens again.”

To his surprise, Stretch nodded readily. “okay. and you can put the shock away, i get it. you guys need to know about this stuff. even if i can handle myself and shortcut away, not everyone else can.” He tipped his head towards the other group of Monsters. They were young and if they’d been subdued during the shouting, neither had they left and now they were grinning and chatting happily.

Debbie walking up cut them off from view. She set a plate at Stretch’s elbow with several lemon bars and cup at Edge’s, hot and fragrant. She was away again with a smile and a whirl of her blonde ponytail, back to the counter. Edge freed one hand to take his cup and that first sip was familiar and warming, as was watching Stretch happily eat his lemon bars.

Safe as houses, Stretch claimed, and perhaps it wasn’t entirely true, but they were trying.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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starfaring-princelotor · 6 years ago

Text

Thinking Ahead

Summary: Lotor realizes that the feelings he has been harboring are not what they seem.

Pairings: Lotor x F!Reader

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I kindly ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. Thank you. ★

Warnings: Dirty thoughts, underage drinking.

Future Sight___Historic Significance___No Time Like The Present___Thinking Ahead ___Best Friends

“Here you go, two cups of black tea.”

Romelle, bright eyed and equally bright haired student of Hufflepuff, placed two dishes of tea in front of you and Lotor. Professor Trelawney’s reasoning for “switching up partners” is so people would not be too familiar with each other. That way, everyone could get a true taste of variety amongst their peers. Unfortunately for her, she was oblivious to you and Lotor’s growing friendship.

“Ugh, this tea is so bitter.”

“Yes, I will admit, this is not one of my more preferred flavors.”

Black tea was too strong on your palette, but at least the temperature of the drink was perfect. Not too hot, not too cold, and you couldn’t help but grin when Lotor sent you a pointed look the second you started sipping loudly. Where are your manners? You had none, not for some tea leaves fortune telling crap.

“Have you ever had sweet berry hibiscus tea?” you asked out of the blue, peeking at him over the edge of your tiny cup.

“I have. The fruity flavor is delightful with a side coconut jelly,” somehow, this meager chitchat made the bitter liquid bearable, “I took a trip to Maui one summer. Oh, so humid, but not as hot as I would have expected. The locals were, ahem, generous and kind beyond measure. Of course, after they accept you, the ridicule for being a tourist never ends.”

You smiled at hearing that, finding some sort of cruel glee in his suffering, “Yeah? They call you old man because of your hair?”

“Oh, come now, surely that insult is as old as time itself,” he chuckled then grinned at the challenge, “No, no, they playfully poked that I am a fish when it comes to surfing. I quote, ‘Floundering and wiggly.’”

Now, the two of you laughed, and unbeknownst to either of you, Allura’s attention was not so subtly focused on the happy duo. Or at least, how happy Lotor seemed. Romelle took her seat across from her, tilted her head when she received no recognition from her close friend, then followed her line of sight. A mild annoyance began creeping up her spine then she gently slid a hand to cover Allura’s dainty ones, a show of support and a way to garner her full attention.

“Allura?”

The Princess stayed silent for a moment more before tearing her gaze away, offering Romelle a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yes? Pardon me, ready for some tea?”

The concerned look reflecting Romelle’s eyes did not go unnoticed. Nor did the soft way her thumb was gently rubbing over the Princess’ knuckles out of instinctual comfort. They talked about this before, talked about her and Lotor’s previous relationship several times over when she felt those feelings creep back up in her heart. You were right when reading her palm: Allura had an insecure heart, even a year after her relationship with him took a turn for the worst.

But that was not why she was intently watching you two right now.

“Are you alright?” or rather, will she be alright?

“Yes, I am quite fine, thank you,” the Princess picked up her teacup and rest her mouth on the lip, “...Actually, I think I am just...concerned.”

“Concerned? You know he can not hurt you anymore, Allura.”

“Not for me, no. I mean for her.”

A spark of jealousy welled up in Romelle, but she quickly tampered it down before it could be known. You and Allura were not friends. Acquaintances, perhaps, but even so, she could understand the Princess’ bleeding heart for others. Especially in situations that didn’t include her, or need to include her at all. She only wished for the safety for everyone and the blonde girl couldn’t blame her. She cared too much for people and it did get her hurt more than once.

This was not new information to Romelle.

She sipped from her cup then glanced at Lotor, taking keen interest in him when he drank from his own cup, “Allura, do you think he’d hurt her? Maybe we should talk to Shiro about this…”

The Princess finally took a gulp of her tea, hoping it would relax her nerves, “No, that won’t be necessary. I’d rather not involve anyone else unless he - Unless I start to notice something. I really am trying to take your advice into practice.”

As in, don’t get in too deep in other people’s lives, ex’s included. It was just hard to do so when the man you once loved is giving someone else that same exact look she felt for him. Or at least, she thought she felt. A year later and it was still so very confusing for her fragile heart. Allura gently squeezed her friend’s hand in sincere apology.

“I am sorry for making you worry,” she continued, “Let’s enjoy this tea, yes?”

Romelle doubted the enthusiasm plastered over Princess Allura’s face, but she knew no words would soothe her troubled mind right now.

Lotor laid in bed with Kova perched on his shoulders, his tail loosely wrapped around the Prince’s neck. The cat would have rather been laying in his lap, but it was already preoccupied with an open book. There were words scribbling fast across the page, yet they appeared not by Lotor’s hand. No, the writing was too big, too loopy to be his.

I nearly threw the book into the fire when you wrote back. You should’ve told me at the dance! Nearly scared me to death. Thought one of the ghosts possessed it or something.

He reached over to his bedside table and picked up his quill. The nub was wearing down. Soon, he would need a new one.

You would willingly traverse into the Forbidden Forest past midnight, but a two-way journal scares you?

I’m a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor. Bravery is not in my blood.

Lotor grinned at that. Yes, curiosity and bravery were not of the same definitions.

Did your tea reading spook you of the future?

Why would I believe soggy, yucky leaves telling me I’m going to be attacked?

Maybe it is a sign. Watch out for puddles.

After that, the Prince drew a surprisingly detailed puddle, but then added a stick figure to represent you. There was a frown on your face and he could already imagine the indignant noise you’d make once seeing his creative masterpiece. To his surprise, ink started sketching as an image of, what he could only assume, was HIM appeared over the water. Was that... was that him on his broom? Lotor chuckled in mirthful amusement.

My ears are not that big.

In response, you drew his hair longer. Excessively longer. Rapunzel length longer. Then, the moon appeared. Full, just like that night, and little stars dotting the vacant sky. Lotor’s heart softened at the image you were drawing, not at all thinking about how he was connecting the dots and making constellations here and there. It wasn’t until he saw a single, long line stretch from the bottom of the page to the top and stop there did he tilt his head in confusion.

No more words? Ah. You must’ve fallen asleep on him. It was well past midnight anyways. You had a good idea. Before he decided to snuggle under the comforter in search of dreamland, he wrote three little words. Three little heartfelt words that he knows you’ll see come morning.

Good night, darling.

Lotor’s brows scrunched up in offense at watching you read. Well, he was trying to read, but his eyes caught such a despicable act to nature he had to put his own studies on halt just to make sure he was not dreaming a horrid nightmare. He cleared his throat softly, just enough to catch your attention.

“I had no idea you lick your thumb before turning pages.”

Almost comically, your tongue was still stuck out just as you were about to wet it, “I know, it’s a disgusting habit -”

“Very. Remind me to never lend you any of my books.”

You had to suppress a laugh at his squinty face, almost like he found a fly in his five-star bowl of clam chowder. This time, instead of using your thumb, you swiped the page with the tip of your wand. It seemed this pleased him more than your gross saliva tainting the books and spreading unknown germs to others. Or even to yourself! Who knows how many people have touched these books?

“And remind me never to touch any of your books, too.”

You rolled your eyes yet kept a playful grin plastered on your lips, “One of my favorite stories is World War Z. Have you read it?”

“The one about zombies? Really? That one is the best book you can think of?” Lotor arched his brow, attention focused on you now instead of his own reading, “You know zombies can never really happen.”

“Shh! It could totally happen, y’know. If science can go wrong, why can’t magic? They wouldn’t’ve made reversal spells if magic was perfect.”

“Pardon me, did you just say…” he squinted at you even more, “W...wouldn’t’ve?”

Now, he was baffled at yet another phenomenon you showed him. Unnecessary contractions. Lotor blinked like you just grew another pair of lips on your face, which nearly made you chortle a bit too loud in the quiet library. No other students would even consider staying this late in the archives for fun, yet good company was all you two needed, location be damned.

“You have been hanging around Keith too much, darling,” he reprimanded, yet you didn’t take it at all seriously, “Next thing I know, you will be a brooding jar of angst who mopes in bed all day. Oh, wait, that DID happen.”

It was your turn to scoff in mock offense. How dare he grin that catty grin after openly poking fun at your expense? You almost wanted to retaliate by flicking a paper ball at him. Almost, and you only decided against it when you saw his eyes shine in delighted mirth, half his face hidden behind a book. It was...nice. Not his weak insult, no, but rather the friendly familiarity was quite refreshing between you two.

“Oh, yeah? Well, at least I don’t...I don’t…”

“Hm? Yes? You do not what? Use your words, dear.”

“Hmph, at least I don’t...Gah, I can’t think of anything!”

Lotor wasn’t flawless, but it was kind of hard to think of one, singular trait you could joke about on the spot. And he knew this. He reveled in making you fumble over your words because, although you were smart, you still needed at least a day warning to come up with a worthy insult. Meanwhile, the scrutinizing observer he was, he could pick at you till the sun comes up.

“It is alright. Take your time,” he nonchalantly turned a page, that air of victory surrounding his smug self, “You can say it tomorrow when you are ready.”

“Quietly. You do not want us to get caught, do you?”

As silently as you could, you lifted your foot and gently tapped the stone with every step you took. How Lotor could pull off being so stealthy, you had no clue. Magic, probably. He was leading you up many flights of stairs in a part of the castle you were not familiar with. Was this the Slytherin wing? No, there weren’t even any pictures on the cobblestone walls. Where exactly were you?

“Ugh, wait, let me - “ you knelt down quickly, slipping off your clunky shoes and allowing the cold stone to seep through your socks, “Okay. Okay, where are we going?”

One hand in his, the other now holding your scuffed shoes, Lotor decided against giving you a firm answer. Instead, he turned over his shoulder, sent you a quick wink along with his signature trusting smile. You stumbled gracefully, blaming the uneven stairs for fault, yet he was strong enough to still prevent you from kissing the floor.

“We are almost there...if you would stop tripping,” cue smile transforming into a playful grin, an excited grin, like a boy ready to see the fireworks start.

“Well, maybe if someone didn’t have mile-long legs, I wouldn’t have to sprint to keep up,” you huffed, that is, until the two of you came across a large gap.

The chasm below, oh stars, how high up did you two travel? This was at least 50 stories high. It was a miracle the stairs were even holding up at all, as decrepit this building was. But...there, across the death hole, was a door which you could only assume was where he was planning on leading you. Before you could even ask him a question, Lotor released your hand then effortlessly leaped across the gap, landing calculated and ever so majestically.

And maybe a little smug when he met your slack-jawed face.

“That is so unfair.”

“Jump. I will help you, do not worry. The gap is not as big as you think.”

You were half nervous and half...excited? It must be because of your curiosity peaking at the sight of the ornate curved door. Surely, no one else would even consider venturing forth with the prospect of a very long drop right in front of them. But Lotor said he would help. Lotor said not to worry. Yet, you shuffled in spot, calculating how much of a running start you would need to make it across.

Meanwhile, the Prince was way too amused seeing you hesitate. He held out his arms as if offering a hug, trying to lure you in with the trust he carefully built with you.

“You drop me, I haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Duly noted, darling.”

That gap...was it just you, or was it getting bigger? Before you could let your nerves get the best of you, Lotor sent you a nod of encouragement and you exhaled a heavy breath. Shaking your arms, you backed up a bit then took a running start, leaping with all the strength in your legs. Don’t look down. Don’t look -

Oh, fuck. Too late. And now, you realized your jump wasn’t nearly as far as it should have been. One foot landed on the edge and Lotor’s instincts immediately kicked in, his strong arms winding around your midsection to pull you close for security. You weren’t sure who made the “eep” noise, no, certainly not you, but you definitely heard him chuckle when your hands clung onto him for dear life.

Your heart was beating so fast. If you were listening closely, you could hear his, too.

“See? That was not so difficult, now was it?” Lotor took a few cautious steps away from the hole, noting your legs were shaking like a newborn foal, “Come, you - ah - dear, your nails…”

You stubbornly shook your head, refusing to let go of your hug as he guided you through the door, “Forests, fine. Flying over a lake? Fine. Leap of death? No. Next time, give me a piggyback ride. I’m not doing that again.”

The door closed behind you two and it was Lotor shrugging you gently to pull your face out of the safe confines of his chest. A dead fireplace, cushions, some thick blankets, half a ceiling missing. This place was in shambles, but it did make you feel more lax, more safe, more secluded. Lotor’s arms fell to his sides to let you explore the humble room, moon missing tonight and sky shimmering with distant stars.

“Here,” the Prince picked up a folded blanket, spreading it out and over your shoulders, “It is only going to get colder and we will be here for a while.”

“Oh...it’s…” the view from up here, so close to the clear sky, you almost felt like you could pluck a gem or two from the night, “You brought me here to stargaze? They look so much clearer tonight.”

Some more shuffling and Lotor wrapped his own thick comforter around his body then sat on a chilled cushion. There was no wind tonight, thank goodness, otherwise this trip he carefully planned might have ended prematurely. Footing your own cushion closer to his side, you also plopped next to your tall friend while tucking your blanket tighter in your chest. Neither of you minded that you two were, as they say, attached at the hip.

“Not only that. Just wait. Give it a few minutes,” Lotor angled his head upwards, nebulous eyes reflecting those twinkling stars and anticipating the phenomenal show to start.

You mimicked him, orbs searching for something in the sky, anything other than those countless dots swimming in the night. Lo and behold, you saw something flicker. And another, this time longer. A shooting star? Many! Many shooting stars blinking in sight, and just like that, you perked up in amazement, in the awe Lotor witnessed that night at the moonstone lake. Lips parted, iris darting across the sky to catch each falling star, you saw 10, no, 12 pass by in the mere minutes you were sitting here.

The cold didn’t bother you anymore, “That’s...that’s like, 12 wishes!”

16 now and soon you would no doubt lose count with how frequently they appeared. You couldn’t keep up with his freckles, shooting stars even less.

“I can’t...think of more than 3 wishes,” your mouth scrunched up in a corner, “I wish tests weren’t so hard.”

“That, my dear, could easily be handled if you studied more,” he reached to his satchel and pulled out two green mugs, “If I recall correctly, the Muggle world believe wishes can be granted by magic, no?”

Your attention diverted to the cup he placed in your lap, fingers deftly picking it up and noticing it...empty. “Yeah, they believe that if you blow a dandelion in the wind, your wish comes true, too. Other things like, uh...something about ladybugs? And eyelashes? A bit silly, isn’t it?”

And yet, he has a suspicious feeling in his gut you tried every possible wishing device at your disposal. Lotor pulled out his wand then gently tapped the rim of his cup, warm dark liquid instantly filling it to tipping point. The steam wafted in the air and you noticed a few mini marshmallows floating in his drink, clumping together in the sea of sweetness. No sooner were you able to voice your question of “How did you do that?!” did he use magic to fill your cup, as well. Less marshmallows, but no complaints from you.

“Well, magic does not have to make sense,” Lotor spoke with a hint of cockiness and, after taking a sip of his drink, he hummed in thought, “Needs a bit more of a...kick, no?”

“A...kick?” you raise da brow, carefully drinking a small portion before smacking your lips together, “Peppermint cocoa? Didn’t take you as a sweets kinda guy.”

“I adore sweets. Chocolate frogs are one of my favorite delicacies,” he admitted, hiding the fact that he also...collected those cards in the package as a hobby.

Lotor pulled out a bottle. A dark bottle, label unreadable in the dim room, then he popped the top off with one strong flick of his thumb. He poured a generous amount of what looked like milky coffee in his cup before offering the tip to you. Whatever it was, there was a whiff of sugary sweetness and, oh...that was alcohol. Faint, but it was there, and you shot a bewildered look at him.

“The Prince drinks alcohol? What would the Slytherin housemaster say?” you feigned shock and, even in the dark, you could see his glowing eyes roll at your words.

“Hush, you. Alcohol is commonly referred to ‘liquid courage,’ no?” to his delight, you held your drink up and he poured a small amount for now, “After seeing your...flawless bravery over that hole, I think some liquid courage would somewhat embolden you.”

You sipped. You sputtered. You stuck out your tongue, somehow thinking it would help get that ghastly bitter burn off your palette.

“Oh, this is - this is disgusting!” and yet, you took another sip, maybe the second time around wouldn’t taste as bad, “How can you drink this stuff? Blegh…”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. Yes, this must’ve been your first drink, but in his mind, it was not strong at all. Still, seeing your blatant dislike of it, he brought his wand up and prepared to magically whisk away your drink and give you fresh hot cocoa. It was you who cradled your mug away from him, holding it like you were preserving a precious, rare golden apple.

“Oh? So, you DO like it, I see,” Lotor’s eyes cataloged the blush gracing your cheeks, either from embarrassment at playing keep-away or from the drink warming up your body.

“Now, I didn’t say that,” you leaned against him, placing all your weight on the sturdy Prince, “I should try it...a third time. And fourth. And fifth. Then I will give you my five-minute review of your peppermint hot cocoa.”

This was so dangerous, sneaking out this late, drinking alcohol, but it was giving you a sense of acceptance, of fun, hanging out with Lotor with no judgement from anyone. No student roles under a teacher’s gaze or homework to be done before noon or responsibilities other than caring for each other in the most spirited of company. Goodness, was he always this warm? You lifted his arm and tucked yourself against him, figuring double blankets would keep you two cozier longer throughout the night. .

“If you fall asleep, do not drool on me. I will wake you, dear.”

Your eyes scanned the page, mouth silently reciting the spell so you could memorize it by heart. Though, with your previous attempts that came out for naught, you knew this was going to be difficult. It was almost as if your wand was purposely refusing to work with you. While the rest of the class was practicing with success, you glared with determination at the potted plant in front of you. Unblooming. It looked nearly dead, to be honest.

“Morning dew, nightly rain

Bring this rose to bloom again.”

Three flicks of your wand, each punctuated at the end of a verse, yet all the plant did was...wilt. And with it, so did your spirit. To your right, before you could even see his smarmy grin, Lotor hummed in amusement at your failed attempts. Rude. You saw out of the corner of your eye that his potted plant, well, blooming was too nice of a word. It was flourishing. Practically a mini rose bush now, orange of all ugly colors.

“Don’t laugh,” you pouted, trying not to take his mockery at heart and knowing this was just him being a little shit again, “I’m trying.” “Maybe if you said it correctly, it would work. Here,” Lotor faced his already beautiful plant then cleared his throat, voice clear and loud, “Morning dew, nightly rain, bring this rose to bloom again.”

It grew twice its size, nearly tipping the pot. You grumbled, a low “show off” muttered from your lips.

“Now, your turn,” he faced you, watching your every move, from the flick of your wrist to the posture you held, “Your voice must be loud and clear.”

Again, you mumbled, both at his instruction and this dumb plant that wasn’t listening to you. The Prince tsk’d, your behavior and discouragement making him cross his arms. This was stern Lotor now. Not quite the same from the forest, but close enough that if you didn’t heed his advice, he would definitely leave you to fail over and over again.

“Sit up. Do not slouch,” he watched you do as he commanded, “Hold your wand at a 45 degree angle near the plant’s base. Now, LOUD and CLEAR.”

“I don’t like raising my voice,” you finally admitted...stubbornly.

Lotor narrowed his eyes slightly at the excuse. He reached over and scooted the plant closer to you then lifted your chin up with a finger. His eyes didn’t miss the way you stiffened in your seat nor how you easily surrendered to one of his slender digits. For a quick second, his mind flashed to what else he could do to you with just a single finger.

“You do not have to be loud, then. Clear. How will your wand hear you? How will the plant hear you? Now, try again.”

“Tch, now who is the pushy one, huh?”

“You could fail and lose house points. Your choice.”

“Bah! Fine, fine, just - don’t watch me.”

He wouldn’t watch you directly, but he was listening intently now, just to make sure you spoke the spell clearly. Or blow up your plant on accident. A few minutes passed and when you cheered a “Yes, finally!” under your breath, he knew you got it to work on the 6th try. By HIS guidance, no less, but still, it was the results that mattered in the end. A nudge at his side and he raised a groomed brow at you, eyes obviously waiting for a sign of gratitude.

“I don’t like yellow roses. Can I change the colors?” you flipped through ahead of the book, going to the more advanced spells, and he had to stop himself from rubbing the headache forming at his temples.

Fool. Mumbling idiot. You were going to accidentally change the color of your skin if you weren’t careful.

A strange thought crossed his mind then. Were you always this...imbecilic?

Lotor felt sick today. A cold, no doubt, or a fever? He wasn’t sure, but the tonic the nurse gave him only helped temper his body a little bit. The drapes were pulled together to keep his entire room dark and a thick layer of blankets covered his form. Oh, but he was breaking out a sweat now, his least favorite part about being ill. Aside from the migraines, of course.

The journal glowed a faint blue hue by his bedside, the light actually intensifying his headache. You were writing in it, most likely waiting for him to reply, but he was too aching to move any of his limbs. The sick Prince knew that a distraction would help him avert his mind from focusing on his soreness, yet part of him just wanted to...ugh, that brightness was getting on his blasted last nerve.

With all the strength he could summon, he grabbed the book and stuffed it inside the drawer. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Sleep and silence were his best cure for his shut-in self. Eyes drooping slowly, he buried his face into the lush pillow then willed his mind to shut up. For five minutes, just five, let the comforting arms of sleep embrace me. Wish granted.

Though, he roused at the soft rapping of knuckles on his door. He had no idea how long he was knocked out. Could be an hour, could be a day. He wanted no visitors, so who dared…?

A turn of a knob and your face, as well as the hallways blinding light, leaked into the room. His silver brows knotted in annoyance and, with a peek from one eye, he tried to dig even more into his pillow to avoid you. Sick Lotor was an unhappy Lotor. A warning from Ezor when they had reluctantly let you in their wing and led you to the grumpy Prince’s private room. Your footsteps indicated you were right besides his bed, probably just looking down at him in pity. The thermos in your hand suddenly felt a little worthless, but you stood firm in your wavering thoughts.

“Hey, Lotor?” a rumbling grunt as a response, not the friendliest, but you understood his frustration, “Figured you were, uh...y’know, under the weather.”

“I am not sad. I am sick,” came his muffled reply, followed by a cough, “...And tired. Very tired.”

Yes, you know the wretched side effects of being sick. You may be going to a wizarding school, but illnesses still affected everyone. Why couldn’t magic whisk it away? Taking a seat at the edge of his bed, being mindful of his space and the fresh scent of mint wafting in the air, you offered him a soft pat pat on his elbow. Instantly, he cringed into himself, the touch both welcome and a little uncomfortable. You had intended to come and keep him company, perhaps tell him about what you learned in class today, yet all his body language pointed to one option: he wanted to be ALONE.

“Alright, alright, loud and clear,” you weren’t offended by his brusque words, well, maybe a little bit, “Here. Don’t know if you ate anything yet, but there’s some chicken soup in this. Generosity from the kitchen staff after they booted me out for sneaking in.”

You at least expected a chuckle, a quip of “I am surprised they did not turn YOU into soup,” but nothing came. Placing the thermos on his bedside table, you headed for the door and, with one last glance back at him, you offered a soft smile.

“Get better soon.”

The illegal Love Potion was finished and a majority of the class was excited, rightfully so. Everyone was eager to know who their loved one was, their crush, and possibly even sneak a portion out to use on the object of their desires. But not him. He was here for the grade. Lotor adored the dark arts and, although not officially part of the curriculum in his other class, this was just another step into understanding why Love was the strongest curse of all.

And yet, you were shifting nervously in your seat. Hands neatly folded on the desk, knee shaking up and down insistently, and your eyes couldn’t even focus staring at ONE thing. He didn’t understand. The two of you use the same ingredients, so you must be getting the same perfect grade as him. Or perhaps...you, like the others, were curious about what the potion would reveal to you if you took a small whiff.

“Did you...y’know,” you asked vaguely, motioning to his simmering potion.

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

A moment of silence. You knew you had certain feelings for him, but pinpointing them to love or anything stronger than love was what really kept you uncertain. Friends? Best friends? Maybe...something more? Should you ask him? Part of you wanted to, yet another side of you was actually happy with where you two were at now. You trust him. You trusted him quite a bit.

“Wanna do it together?” you asked, knowing there was a few minutes to spare before class started.

Lotor’s silence made you hesitate even more. Not because it was a yes or no answer, but because he was thinking about what he was going to experience. It was no matter of the heart that he already heavily desired you since that mirror showed him what the two of you could be. His thoughts were invaded with you before, yet he couldn’t differentiate between him being a horny adolescent or an actual fool in love.

The Prince sent you a side glance, “Yes. Let us try.”

Both of you gently swept the smoke rising from the cauldron to your noses, preparing yourselves for the answers to the unknown.

Peppermint cocoa. Old library books. Fresh laden snow. Chicken pot pie. A...rose?

You brought a hand up to cover the lower half of your face, immediately knowing where all these scents were coming from. Or rather, who. You...love him? No. That couldn’t be. You didn’t even realize it! How could some liquidy goop know you better than you? But...maybe on some degree, it was true. You love him enough to be such close, vulnerable friends with each other. Enough that you wished his sickness would erase completely from his body that one night. Enough that you willingly leap into his welcoming arms, despite the fear clouding your mind.

The realization...well, it brought you two things. One, a peace of mind now that your question was answered. And two, you found that the damn beating organ in your chest wanted to ask him about these conflicting thoughts. You swallowed a thick gulp lodged in your throat, sparing a meek look at your partner sitting idly besides you. Did he smell...something foul?

Lotor’s face was twisted in utter disgust.

Yes, he knew what his nose would pick up. Chicken noodle soup, white carnations, misty lake water, oak trees, and finely-ground powdered moon stone. With every scent, a new memory flashed in his mind, from that dangerous adventure at the forest lake to the soup he gratefully consumed shortly after you closed his bedroom door. The memories...it made his heart fond, his heart yearn to hold you again, but the smell. All of it mixed together?

It made him want to puke on the spot.

Lotor covered his nose with his hand to block anymore of that potion from reaching his brain. He knew you were staring at him, waiting for an answer, anything, and he knew you were not blind. The growing friendship, the late night cuddling, the hugs, the sentimental time spent together. You must’ve suspected something between you two, some fine line between the moments of vulnerability you shared with each other.

“Lotor, did you - “

Yet, he turned away from you, avoiding looking at you in the eyes, just as the professor waltzed into the classroom. Maybe the smell was too strong for him? Yes, yes, that was a logical conclusion. The potency, when taken too much, can cause nausea. Right? You swear you read that somewhere in the book. It must be the cause of his sudden reaction.

Because if it wasn’t that, then everything else pointed to the other option, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to accept that.

Lotor didn’t speak to you for the next few days. Sometimes, you thought you saw a glance of him turn a corner. Sometimes, he was hastily shoveling his food in his mouth to leave abruptly. Sometimes, he would spare you a quick, stoic glance before turning his attention to his books. Either way, there was no right time to talk, no perfect moment with his odd evasiveness lodging between you two.

Then again, you tried to see this as openly as possibly. Perhaps he was just busy. Tests and finals were coming up and you, too, were preoccupied with other studies.

“Hey, Lotor, wait up,” you called out to him this time, jogging to catch up before he entered his class.

“Hm? Yes, dear? What is it?”

“Did you wanna head to Madam Puddifoot’s this weekend? After tests and everything. Figure we could use a break, eat some cake, the good stuff!”

Lotor didn’t meet your gaze nor your enthusiasm. Instead, he glanced off to stare at the floor, internally debating something bouncing around that cluttered skull of his. He was a man of few words, even fewer when concerning personal emotions, yet lately he couldn’t even organize his thoughts in a coherent order. There was something bugging him, something deep in his skin, and as your friend, part of him realized it would wedge an awkwardness between you two.

“Ah...no, I apologize,” eyes still glued to the floor, Lotor missed the downtrodden dip of your smile, “Perhaps another time, hm? When things have quieted down and students have gone home for break.”

Yes. Yes, a good diversion, one he didn’t quite think all the way through.

“Oh, yeah! Sure, good idea. Less people would be overcrowding the shop. Just...y’know, the journal. You know where I am at.”

Were you always this...this easy to push around? Odd. He never really noticed it before.

A nod of his head, he turned and left you standing there alone. Not even a goodbye? He really must be stressed.

Lotor was feeling...angry. Frustrated, and not in a way he could relieve himself through some private time alone. Yes, in the confines of his dutiful patrol across the Slytherin wing, he still thought of you, of forcefully kissing you against the wall. Biting your delicate neck with little control until he had his fill of moans and screams. Even pinning your wrists at your lower back as he fucked you from behind made his groin stir in want.

All these images distracted him, but there was something...missing. He didn’t feel love. It was just lust. Just a need to climax, to dump his load into you over and over again. Knowing these thoughts only got worse over time left a bad taste in his mouth. He never wanted to use you for anything, least of all sex. His body wanted you, but his heart...his heart was unsure.

What changed? When did the line between lust and love divert? And why, when he thought of you, did he feel...nothing anymore?

He would even go as far as to say there was a smidgen of contempt. That’s what was making him irritated. His heart was slowly beginning to dislike you, dislike your stubbornness, your pushiness, even your clumsy nature was grating on his nerves. All those times of you being a fool were true, through and through. You were oblivious to dangers. Not at all patient. Too dim-witted to see your true self, so you relied on others - relied on him - to bring it out of you.

It was annoying, yes. He was not someone to seek attention from. Yet, he couldn’t just say this to you. You’d get upset, cry about it, no doubt. Lotor just didn’t feel the want to deal with your wayward self again. He felt as if he was spending TOO much of his time catering to you and it no longer left a good, fluttery feeling in his chest. In fact, it left him feeling emotionally drained.

What he thought was friendship, or something more, was actually neither of those.

Perhaps that was why he still hasn’t taken that journal out from the drawer.

The two of you were drifting apart.

You finally managed to have at least a few minutes with him. Albeit, yes, it was by pure chance that your curious exploring led you to the same secretive balcony deep within the castle grounds. But, now that you were here, it felt a little awkward to be staring at his broad back. How do you start this? It hurt to realize you were hesitating talking to your best friend.

You were concerned for him, deeply concerned, but how do you say this without saying it?

“Did you follow me?”

The timber of his voice was a little deeper than you remembered. Taking careful steps, you walked up besides him and leaned on the stone railing with your hands hanging off the edge. Stiff, you were both stiff, or maybe it was the trick of the chilly night. The air didn’t feel as warm as it did before.

“No way, how do I know you didn’t follow me, huh?” the accusatory tone didn’t fall on deaf ears, but Lotor didn’t return the usual amusement.

“You should not be out this late. It is past curfew hours.”

It was hard to keep your mood from turning sour at his terse answers, but you had to remind yourself that this was Lotor. Your best friend. You missed him, even this moody side of him. Perhaps another joke would help? Maybe some light hearted teasing?

“Oh, c’mon, classes are over. What’s wrong with a little midnight adventure? Last one too exciting for you?”

Nothing. Not even a blink.

“I know what you are trying to do,” Lotor’s shoulders slumped and finally, he looked at you straight in the eyes, “I suggest you stop while you are ahead.”

The words spilled out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, “Lotor, I’m just trying to help.”

“Did I ask for it?”

“No, but - damn it, you helped me. Why can’t I do the same for you?”

Annoyance. That was all you could see flit across his face and it stung deep within your chest. You tried to put on your best pleading expression, something to show that you really were worried about him, about his distant self, about his walls being rebuilt brick by brick. This wasn’t like him, not at all.

“People usually help out of the goodness of their heart, not as some sort of debt to repay. ”

“That’s not what I meant. I just - you’re acting different.”

Again, wrong words to say. You knew it, you felt the sudden shift in the air. Saw the way his jaw clenched in restrained control and how his eyes hooded low in a paralyzing glare. Pushing, you were pushing too much, and Lotor was getting very uncomfortable. And, as usual, with his discomfort came the need to...protect himself. Retaliate with words to disarm you completely.

“Oh? And you are unhappy with this ‘different’ side of me? Is that why you seek to help change me back?”

“No! Of course not, Lotor. When I wasn’t myself, you showed me - look, I don’t know what’s going on with you - “

“No. You do not. Perhaps you should have been more observant,” he sneered at you, hitting hard at the fact you were an airhead most of the times.

You brushed off his comment, but it left a lingering ache in your heart, “Or you could just - WE could just talk. Just one night, get whatever it is off your chest and I’ll do the same.”

“No.”

You anticipated the answer before even offering the suggestion, especially knowing deep down that neither of you would be comfortable with speaking so openly about emotions. Foolish, you weren’t thinking ahead, thinking about what you were saying before letting it slip from your tongue. Talking to him like this was insufferably frustrating. It was wearing down your patience, HIS patience, but your stubborn persistence is what would tip the breaking point. You were never aware of this.

“Then what do you want to do, Lotor?”

“Is it not obvious?”

Again, his voice was being degrading and part of you wanted to scoff at him.

“I came here by myself for a reason.”

You could at least piece two and two together, even if the sharp edges left biting wounds on your skin.

“...You want to be alone,” you finished for him, sad you had to say those words out loud for both of you to hear.

Lotor needed time to sort out...whatever this was. And, judging by the way he averted every single one of your questions, this had nothing to do with you. Nothing you COULD do, except give him the space he needed unless you want to find yourself facing the brunt of his cold shoulder and burning words again.

You hated this feeling, this feeling of being rejected. Shunned.

“Fine. I’ll give you your space.”

“Thank you.”

Lotor sure didn’t sound truly thankful, but at this point, you didn’t much care. If isolation was his way to handle things, then you would let him do it. Even if it cost you the friendship and whatever feelings evolved between you two. Something that neither of you got the chance to further explore. That revelation made the pit in your stomach sink in sadness.

The hot, angry tears of frustration wouldn’t stop falling down your cheeks as you turned and marched away from him.

#lotor x reader #spacestories #give me the peppermint cocoa please and thank you

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subfunctions · 6 years ago

Text

i’ve been thinking about “modern” AUs with aloy and some of the npcs as the teen squad, and elisabet, gaia, the alphas, and some older npcs as the adult squad, but i realized that i’m just bored with normal settings no matter what.

so i wanted to spice it up with another AU, and then i thought.................. jurassic park. with robot dinos.

ted decides that he can make more money and some good pr by making a show out of his cool military robots and some “greener” designs that he allegedly stole from miriam tech. in an attempt to smooth over some lawsuits, he invites elisabet and gaia (human in this AU), their team, and their families/invitees of choice to the island amusement park for it’s pre-opening, as a kind of good faith gesture, while showing it off to investors and other business and scientist folk.

and of course...... life finds a way. even artificial life.

scattered thoughts:

let’s call the island....... osiris park, maybe. ostensibly for the reference to cycles and resurrection and the father of horus, but mostly for the irony.

i’m thinking that there would be some kind of renewed environmental efforts, maybe with some extreme environmental damage and climate change rearing its head again due to, you know, constant robotic warfare and corporate greed still going at it. and maybe FAS is taking the brunt of the blame for claw-back efforts of previous decades being undone.

so it’s elisabet and gaia putting their heads together for the same basic outcome (environmental restoration, except on a smaller scale), and that’s why a team from all over the world (alphas, betas, gammas) has been gathered under a project spearheaded by miriam tech.

but now miriam technologies and faro automated solutions are reluctantly working together, along with other corporations, governments, etc., for the purposes of renewed environmental efforts. hence why ted is trying to get back into elisabet’s good graces - dropping lawsuits, offering to settle on the stolen ideas thing - as she and gaia are the people making waves where green robotics are concerned. this would be a few years before when the faro plague would occur. insert timeline tweaking where necessary.

so the miriam robots are the GAIA machines we know and love (like grazers), and ted’s stolen designs, on the island, are modified versions of unused miriam ideas and are the HEPHAESTUS robots we know and love (like sawtooths). a specific line of war machines, the chariot robots, are being showcased for the first time on the island as well.

the alphas would serve the same basic functions, with some tweaks, and their individual divisions would have the same names (HEPHAESTUS, etc.). for clarification: patrick is there for the purposes of preserving endangered species (plant and animal) until certain habitats are restored. samina works with the team as chief cultural consultant, since there’s a lot of cross-national work going on, and the APOLLO division is in charge of navigating that web and making sure that their efforts reflect cultural preservation and don’t step on toes. ayomide (the MINERVA alpha) is a retired military captain turned security programmer for the project. travis is there as another lead programmer, and the HADES division is dedicated to correcting errors in the project. and the rest are pretty self-explanatory.

there’s always a bunch of young people running around miriam, people’s kids/relatives/interns/etc., and the alphas have sort of taken them all under their respective wings.

so, family/friend stuff, and what kind of nerds everyone would be. it’s going to align with the first gen -> second gen alpha set-up i have in my fic because i’m attached to that now:

elisabet and gaia are roboticists/engineers and aloy’s moms, and maybe rost is elisabet’s adoptive brother or step-brother? and elisabet and gaia are super busy, of course, so rost often takes care of aloy, and aloy basically has a dad-uncle along with two moms. (and i’m gonna imitate a basic idea from the wonderful @project-another-dawn and say that rost is a caretaker/ranger for the now-closed yellowstone national park. also, teersa is aloy’s great-aunt through rost.)

in this, the second generation are all in their mid-to-late teens.

aloy takes after her moms in a variety of interests, but she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life yet. she’s leaning towards engineering.

sona has known elisabet and gaia for a long time and is an engineer who originally did military work until she became disillusioned with it. she specializes in aerospace engineering, and she currently works for miriam under the AETHER division. varl and vala are aloy’s best friends. varl has an interest in genetics and hangs out with patrick a lot. vala is interested in climatology so she spends a lot of time with the AETHER alpha. (still haven’t thought of a name for him, guerrilla games please give me details). haven’t thought of a last name for sona’s family either, but i’ll get there.

they’re all invited to go with the sobeck fam, and varl and vala tag along. sona and rost don’t go, but they catch wind of what’s happening on the island and haul ass to get there later in the story.

ersa and erend are travis’s niece and nephew, and he often declares random days as ‘bring your niblings to work day,’ so they’ve become close friends with aloy and the other teens. he brings them on the island trip. i guess their last name could be tate too, so i don’t have to come up with a modern surname for them. both of them are interested in engineering. erend leans towards agricultural engineering, so he and naoto (last name watanabe, i’ve decided) get along well, and ersa is interested in hydraulics engineering, so she hangs out with the POSEIDON alpha a lot. (guerrilla games, please).

petra (the oldest of the second generation, in her early 20s) has a robotics internship with miriam and is very close with margo, her supervisor, who invites her to the island. haven’t thought of a last name for petra either, r.i.p.

ayomide is vanasha’s mom, and vanasha is fast following in her programming footsteps, so she ends up hanging around miriam with the other teens as well. vanasha okilo! a last name!

charles and tom are talanah’s adoptive dads after her father and brother died in an accident that may or may not have been FAS’s fault. (another lawsuit that ted wants to smooth over.) talanah shares charles’s interest in the natural world, though she leans more towards wanting to study zoology.

jiran is a military investor who works closely with FAS, and nasadi and itamen are avad’s step-mother and half-brother, while older brother kadaman died in a mysterious accident. (i don’t want jiran to be dead in this AU because i want him to get eaten by a machine at some point.) nasadi and samina are cousins, and samina has been mentoring avad, who has an interest in cultural preservation, so samina offers a standing invitation for them to visit miriam whenever. nasadi does so often to get the kids away from their father. (everyone loves itamen, especially vanasha.) no last name on the avad fam front yet, either.

sylens is there at the island’s pre-opening as a preeminent figure in his field; i’m thinking programming. but he’s maybe actually there for shady thievery reasons. he hates corporate science (tm) a lot because seeing pure science twisted to serve money really grinds his gears, so he’s lowkey enjoying watching the mess that FAS gets itself into on their robot dino island.

and the premise, of course, is that life finds a way, and the artificial life on the island goes bonkers while everyone tries desperately contain it to the island and shut it down before it spreads, while also trying to stay alive.

the general idea is that the machines evolved on their own because the complexity of their programming is almost indistinguishable from the complexity of natural life and starts mimicking it. like, it’s because their programming is highkey illegal to begin with (and i think something similar went down in canon, as in someone said fuck the turing act, as part of a plot to sell military bots to various entities and then seize control of them from their owners, and then, well.... Regret), but the machines going rogue is an unintentional side-effect and is simply life finding a way.

but there’s a subplot about security being tampered with, and the island being cut off from the rest of the world, and private black ops showing up, and it turns out that it’s the people who illegally programmed the machines to begin with (far zenith a.k.a. ted’s buddies) trying to cut their losses and cover their tracks the second they know it’s irreversibly gone to shit, because there are a bunch of geniuses on the island who are going to figure it all out real soon.

there absolutely has to be a scene where ted tries to be hip (tm) and in with the teens, and none of them are having it. it’s all [knife emojis] in the group chat.

i’m not going to do anything with this soon because i don’t have time and i have other things to write, but i’ve been thinking about it a lot, and i wanted to get all of this down.

this would also be my general set-up for any “modern” AU where everyone is a big nerd family. i’m not saying that someone should steal this whole thing, but.... i would love.... to read anything with said set-up.

#me writing fic: hmm.... how can i make AUs out of my own AUs....#text #mine

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