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slitherinky · 4 months ago

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Masterlist | About me | Requests

Seductive Betrayal

Setting: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader

Summary: Working the evening shift at a small bookstore, you’re surprised when a familiar customer walks in. With his effortless charm, Draco convinces you to let him stay the night—but it doesn’t take long for him to show you, that his dark side never truly left..

Warnings: 18+ smut, MDNI, dom!Draco, dubcon, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected p in v, hair pulling, a pinch of good gir

Length: 3k words or 12 minutes

Please be aware of the warnings before proceeding. If you are underage, sensitive to depictions of violence, or intense explicit content, it is do not to read further. This story is purely fictional and does not reflect or endorse such behavior in real life. Any attempt to replicate the actions described in this story in real life is strongly discouraged.

Harry Potter and the Wizarding World is a trademark of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

The bookshop was quiet.

Not the comforting kind of quiet—the kind that wrapped around you like a warm blanket, softened by the rustling of parchment and the occasional murmur of an interested customer. No, this quiet was heavy. It sank into the wooden floorboards, curled in the dim candlelight, pressed against the corners of your mind like a lingering ghost.

Outside, Diagon Alley was a different place than it used to be. The cobblestone streets were no longer filled with bright chatter or carefree laughter. The war had left its mark on everything, from the shattered windows of still-abandoned storefronts to the wary glances exchanged between passing witches and wizards.

You exhaled softly, running a hand over the spine of an old book, your fingers trailing over the gold-embossed letters. You should have been used to it by now—this new world, this fragile attempt at normalcy. You told yourself you were moving forward, that working here, in the tiny bookshop nestled between a half-repaired apothecary and a closed-down broom maker’s stall, was proof of that.

But some nights, when the silence stretched too long, you wondered if you were just hiding.

The bell above the door chimed softly.

It was late—too late for customers, but you looked up anyway, expecting to tell someone you were closing soon. Instead, your breath caught.

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, half-shadowed by the dim light of the shop. His hood was drawn back now, and even in the flickering glow of the candles, you could see how pale he was. How tired. But beneath the exhaustion, there was something else. Something magnetic.

"Y/N," he murmured, stepping further inside. You didn’t expect him to recognize you after all this time. But he did.

You swallowed hard. It had been years since you last saw him—back at Hogwarts, before the war turned everything to dust. Draco Malfoy had always been arrogant, distant, wrapped in privilege and sharp edges. You had noticed him, of course—how could you not? There was something magnetic about him, something intriguing beneath the sneers and cold indifference.

But now, standing in your bookshop with the night pressing in behind him, he was different. The arrogance was still there, but it felt strained, the distance less like a choice and more like a shield. His sharp features were worn with exhaustion, his once-perfect composure just slightly unraveled.

And yet, despite everything, he was still intoxicatingly attractive. Perhaps even more so now—raw, untamed, and dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with his name.

"Didn’t think you’d still be around," he said, his lips curling into something that almost looked like a smirk. "Figured you’d have left for a shinier life somewhere else."

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. "Not all of us had the option of running, Malfoy."

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before he laughed—a quiet sound, amused but lacking real mirth. "Fair enough."

You studied him, taking in the sharp lines of his face, the faint bruising beneath his eyes. He looked worn down, but even like this, there was something about him. Something alluring.

You shook your head slightly, breaking the spell. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

His gaze flickered around the empty shop, lingering on the books stacked in uneven piles. "I was just… passing through."

"Liar."

His eyes snapped back to yours. For a second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then, instead of snapping back, instead of defending himself, he did something unexpected. He smiled.

It was slow, effortless, and gods, it was dangerous. "Alright," he said, tilting his head. "You got me."

You hated how your stomach twisted at that.

"I don’t have anywhere to go."

You didn’t react at first. You just blinked, trying to process his words. You knew things were bad for him—you’d heard the whispers, the murmurs about the Malfoys falling from grace. But somehow, you never thought Draco Malfoy would ever be desperate enough to admit it out loud.

And yet, here he was.

For a moment, you considered telling him to leave. That it wasn’t your problem. That he had made his choices, and now he had to live with them. But the words didn’t come.

Instead, you sighed. "You can stay at my place tonight."

Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Just like that?"

"Don’t make me regret it," you warned.

He chuckled. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

The walk to your flat was quiet, but Draco kept close to your side, his presence a steady warmth against the chill of the night. You were hyperaware of him—the way he moved, the way his fingers occasionally brushed against yours as you walked.

"Not bad," he mused when you finally reached your flat. "Could be worse."

You snorted, unlocking the door. "It’s not Malfoy Manor, but it’s cozy."

He stepped inside, glancing around. "Cozy," he repeated, as if testing the word. Then he turned to you, eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight. "I like it."

You swallowed hard. Something about the way he was looking at you sent heat curling through your stomach. He was close now, too close, and you could smell the faint scent of rain on his clothes, the warmth of his skin.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice softer now. "For this."

You opened your mouth to say something, but then—

His fingers brushed against your wrist. Light. Barely there. But it was enough to make your breath hitch.

"I never realized," he said, tilting his head slightly, "how beautiful you are up close."

Oh.

Your heart stumbled in your chest. "Malfoy—"

"Draco," he corrected smoothly, his other hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "If we’re going to be sharing a space, we might as well use first names, don’t you think?"

You should have stepped back. You should have told him to stop. But you didn’t.

Instead, you let yourself be pulled into the slow, deliberate way he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel your pulse pounding as his fingers trailed along your arm, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your ear.

You didn’t.

And that was when everything changed.

Because in the next breath, something sharp pressed against your back.

Your wand. He had taken your wand.

Your eyes snapped open, realization hitting you like a slap to the face. But before you could move, Draco stepped back, his own wand raised. His expression was unreadable, but his grip was steady.

"I really am sorry, love," he said smoothly. "But I need the money more than I need a place to stay."

And then he flicked his wand.

"Stupe—"

You moved before he could finish.

Years of instinct kicked in, and you lunged forward, grabbing his wrist before he could complete the spell. The shock in his eyes was brief—then you twisted, knocking the wand from his hand with a sharp strike.

But you weren’t fast enough.

Draco recovered in seconds, and before you could grab your wand, he moved. Faster than you thought possible, he grabbed your arm, twisting you back against the wall. Your breath left you in a sharp gasp as he pressed forward, pinning you in place with the weight of his body.

"Nice try," he murmured, breath warm against your ear.

You struggled, but his grip was firm. He was stronger than he looked, and the sheer confidence in the way he held you still sent a shiver down your spine.

"You’re full of surprises," he mused, tilting his head. "I almost underestimated you."

"Get off me, Malfoy," you gritted out, your pulse racing.

He smirked. "And if I don’t?"

Your hands twitched, fingers itching for a weapon, for anything to fight back. But Draco was already one step ahead, his body pressing you firmly against the cold wood of the wall.

"I should have known you'd be a fighter," he murmured, his tone almost admiring. "Makes this more fun."

His eyes flickered down to your lips for half a second—so brief you almost missed it. Almost.

The worst part? You didn’t hate it.

And he knew.

"Now," he murmured, leaning in just slightly. "How about we make a deal, love?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your spine. Your pulse pounded in your throat, a mixture of anger, adrenaline, and something far more dangerous—something you refused to name.

"You really think I’d trust you after this?" you snapped, testing the strength of his grip. It was no use. He had you right where he wanted you, and worst of all, he knew it.

Draco chuckled, low and smooth. "Trust is such a fragile thing, isn't it?" His thumb brushed over your wrist, the touch almost gentle. "But let’s not pretend this is just about trust."

Your breath caught and his smirk deepened.

"Oh," he mused, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "I see. You like this, don’t you?"

You glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Draco leaned in closer, until his lips were just shy of brushing against your ear. "I can feel your heart racing," he murmured. "Is it fear? Or is it something else?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Draco," he corrected smoothly. "You were saying it so sweetly just moments ago."

You gritted your teeth. "Let me go."

"Hmm. Tempting offer," he drawled, his fingers tightening just slightly around your wrist. "But see, I have a dilemma. I could let you go… or I could keep you right here, exactly where I want you."

He shifted his hold, pinning your hands above your head with one swift movement. The motion pressed his body flush against yours, and your breath hitched involuntarily.

Draco noticed. He noticed everything.

His free hand drifted down, fingers grazing your jawline, then lower, tracing the exposed skin at your collarbone. The touch was barely there, light enough to send a shiver through you.

"You don’t hate this as much as you want to," he murmured, his lips barely an inch from yours now. "Do you?"

Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. Your fingers curled into fists, but not to fight. Your breath stuttered, and the warmth pooling in your stomach was a traitorous, infuriating thing.

Draco tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he had just figured out.

"Admit it," he whispered, his breath teasing against your lips. "You want to know what it would be like, don’t you?"

You did.

You hated him, you hated the way he was holding you, hated the fact that he had turned this whole situation into something twisted.

But you wanted it anyway. And he knew.

His lips grazed against yours, soft and teasing. It was barely a kiss, but your pulse leaped at the touch.

"Mhm," Draco hummed. "That’s what I thought."

The way his hands moved then was smooth, practiced—like he had done this countless times before. You didn’t have a chance to resist as he swept aside your skirt, baring your legs. His touch was swift, deliberate, and despite yourself, you felt your pulse pound in response.

Draco’s fingers stroked over the outside of your underwear with a smoothness that left you breathless.

It felt good—really, really good. Your hands were still pinned above your head, but now you were leaning into him, your legs trembling. He picked you up, putting you down on the kitchen counter next to you. Draco leaned into you, making your back arch slightly as he kissed you roughly. His right hand pulled down your underwear, allowing it to drop to the ground.

Draco pushed one knee between your legs and you gasped from the contact. He smirked and slipped his knee even further between your legs. He pushed up against you, with the fabric of his pants rubbing against your pussy. You gasped and arched further. Your breathing became quickened and your cheeks turned pink. "I adore how hot you are for me, love," he purred.

His mouth slowly made his way down to your pussy. He started by kissing up your thigh. He used his hands to spread your legs even wider. You felt your pussy start to drip and he noticed, "so wet for me," he grinned.

He then placed his mouth on your pussy. You cried out from his touch. He stuck his tongue out and licked your pussy slowly. His tongue brushed over your clit and your entire body stiffened. "Oh my god," you moaned.

He started licking your clit harder. He took his fingers and slipped one inside of you. Your moans became loud and filled the room. His fingers moved up and down inside of you while his tongue moved in circles around your clit. The feeling of your orgasm built up inside of you and you tried to hold it back. You didn't want to cum already. But then he slipped another finger inside of you and your legs started to shake. He picked up the pace of his tongue on your clit and the orgasm was coming.

"Draco, I'm going to cum," you moaned. He groaned in response and that's what sent you over the edge. You exploded in pleasure as the orgasm hit you. "Oh Draco, fuck!"

He pulled away, "what's that, love?" he smirked, "are you asking for more?"

You nodded, "please," you begged.

He chuckled and kissed up your thigh until he reached your pussy again. He licked your pussy some more while slipping his fingers back inside of you.

"God, you taste amazing," he moaned, "you're so wet for me."

He then put his fingers on your clit and started rubbing. You moaned in pleasure. His fingers slid around your clit and you could feel another orgasm building up inside of you.

"Oh fuck, oh Draco," you moaned loudly.

He smirked, "cum for me love, cum all over my fingers."

At that, your body stiffened and another orgasm hit you. You started to cum all over his fingers. He watched with a grin as the orgasm continued to wrack your body.

Your body shook and your breathing became ragged.

He then stepped away from you. You panted as you looked up at him. He smirked down at you, "did you think I was done with you love?"

You stared at him, your eyes widening as you realized what he meant. He pulled away completely, leaving you panting on the counter. His face was smeared, and it was hot. He slowly pulled down his zipper and pants, revealing his cock. It was big. It was so big that it made you feel self-conscious.

But Draco didn't let you dwell on those thoughts. He continued by pulling off his shirt and you were distracted by the sight of his abs. They were perfect. He smirked at you, leaning even further over you, his cock pushing up against your pussy. It was hard and it felt good. You started to drip even more, excited for this to happen. He smirked as he felt your juices dripping over him.

"Good girl. This is how I like it."

He then gripped his cock and started to rub it against your pussy, making you moan.

"You want this? You want my cock inside of you?" He asked, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it around your pussy.

You moaned loudly, "yes please, god yes."

He smirked, "beg me for it. Ask me nicely and I might give you what you want."

You stared at him. "You expect me to beg you after you almost robbed me?!"

He gripped your hair with one hand, pulling your head back. His expression changed into one of anger, "I'm your master for the night, so do as you're told or I will punish you," he warned.

You shivered at the threat. You had never felt so turned on in your life and decided to give in.

"Please Draco," you asked, "let me feel your cock inside of me."

“Good girl.”

He slowly thrusted himself inside of you, making you gasp at his size. He pushed in further, making your back arch from the feeling.

"Oh Draco, oh fuck!"

He started to move inside of you, slowly at first then quickly. You tried to push back, but he stopped you. "No, love," he chuckled. "Take it like a good girl."

He moved his cock up and down, filling you completely and hitting all of the right spots.

He turned you around, so you were facing away from him. He then pushed his cock inside of you again, starting up a racing pace. You cried out at the feeling. He held onto your hips as he pounded into you. His right hand grabbing your hair, making you arch. His cock felt amazing inside of you, it stretched you to your limit but still fit perfectly.

"Fuck, oh god," you cried out.

He then reached around with his left hand, placing his finger on your clit. He rubbed it as he continued to pound inside of you. You cried out, overwhelmed with pleasure.

"Draco!" You screamed.

Your orgasm hit hard and fast, it wracked your entire body and left you shaking. Draco continued to fuck you through the orgasm until you were at your limit.

His grip tightened on your hair, pulling you even further into his thrusts. His breath stuttered and you felt his cock thicken inside of you as he came. His cum filled your pussy.

"Fuck," he moaned as he came. "Oh god, it feels good."

He then pulled out of you, leaving his cum dripping down your legs. Your mind was foggy from the pleasure and you couldn't think straight. Your body laying half collapsed on the counter.

"Come on, love," he mused. "Your bed awaits, or have you forgotten that I'll stay the night?"

You want more? My Masterlis

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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The Gray Woman 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You meet a man who tests your patience. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: To those who didn't help me resist this beast, I blame you.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"Five thousand." The man slaps his card down and flicks it through the slot of the plastic window.

"Five thousand," you repeat.

"In cash. Hundreds, sweetheart. Oh, actually, do about five hundred in ones," he winks.

You don't humour him by reacting. Your skin crawls nonetheless. The implication of the last part of his request is clear. You merely stare back at him. He's not unusual. Executives strut in all the time with their demands. It's never a request, no please, no thank you. They only tell you what to do.

"Yes, sir. I would need your ID," you take his card from the counter and feel the embossed letters on the matte black plastic.

He scoffs, "my ID? I gave you my damn card."

You don't flinch. Not for him. You've worked this desk long enough not to even feel his anger. He's just another spoiled brat in an overpriced suit. The metropolitan bank is an ocean swimming with the likes of him; hair slicked with smelly pomade, feet bedecked in tacky designer loafers, and jackets lined with silk. You couldn't pick him out of a batch of your usual clientele.

"It is procedure, sir. For security. We must confirm your identity and make note of the large transaction--"

"Large transaction? It's pennies," he scoffs.

"Sir, I'm only following protocol. For your safety." You insist.

He snarls as you remain placid. Your lack of reaction doesn't please him. He jabs his finger onto the marble ledge on the other side of the plastic window. "Manager. Now." He pokes again. "Get me your manager."

"Yes, sir, a moment," you slide forward in the chair and step onto the lower bar of the tall legs.

"While you're at it, why don't you crack a smile?" He snipes.

You climb down without response, his card still in hand, and turn to find Veronique. You've been told to do so many a time. You don't give in. It's not that you don't smile, you just prefer to have a reason for that. You're not grim by any measure, just reserved. You don't believe in exhuberance.

As you cross the floor, you look down at the card in your hand. You can just make out the plastic letters; Lloyd M. Hansen. The name might be familiar, you may have even helped him before, but you can't recall.

You long-legged supervisor with her auburn red hair, waved to compliment her long oval face, stands with Gianni, giggling at the Account Manager as he postures. You approach and steel yourself for the interaction. She doesn't notice you as you stand right by her elbow.

You clear your throat, "Excuse me."

"Oh, pardon me, Gianni," she peers over at you, "what is it, dear?"

"A customer is unhappy. He does not want to show his ID." You say.

"Oh, gosh, forgive me, Gianni," she looks back to the manager and preens. "Gotta make sure everyone's happy, don't I?" She spins and nudges you away from the man in his pin-striped arrogance. She lowers her voice as she stomps in her heels, "do I have to do everything around here?"

"I tried--"

"Zip it," she warns and looks ahead. "Bonjour, Mr. Hansen, comment ca va?" She puts her on her faux French accent.

Your chest hollows out. Of course, she would know him. You already know how this goes.

"Well, Ronnie, this pinch-faced brat you got working for you won't give me my money," he crosses his arms and leans them against the ledge. Brat? You're probably not that much younger than him, and likely more mature.

"Oh, my, I'm so sorry. Forgive me, monsieur," she trills and rears on you, "go get his money."

You blink, "yes, ma'am."

Her lip curls slightly. She doesn't like that. It makes her feel old. It's as much rebellion as you have in you. Subtlety always does better.

You turn and go to the safe. You put the bills through the counting machine, taking your time, then return to your desk. As you approach, Veronique lets out another of her high-pitched giggles.

The man on the other side, Hansen, stands straight, his arms still folded, and coughs. It's nothing in his throat, you know what it is. You push his card through the slot then climb up calmly into your chair.

You count the bills by hand as Veronique hovers like a hawk. You record the withdrawal as you pause.

"Once again, Monsieur Hansen, we apologise," she fawns, "it is only that she did not recognise you." She lowers her voice and leans into the window, hiding her mouth even though you can obviously hear her, "we think her hearing is going a bit."

You continue to count and state the total evenly as you slide it under the window, "five thousand, sir."

"Great," he checks his watch, "only took ten minutes out of my day to do what could be done in ten seconds."

He clamps his hand over the money and shakes his head. You close out of his account as Veronique lingers.

"I will be sure this does not happen again," she avows. "I hope you have a wonderful day."

He grumbles and says nothing else. He catches your gaze and his eyes narrow. You calmly reach for your pen and turn back to your computer. The next client steps forward and blocks him out.

"How can I help you today?" You ask, moving onto the next without another thought. It's just another day. Always the same. Good and bad.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #the gray man #the gray woman

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dakusan · 14 days ago

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heyy its 🦋againnn

so,,I think Tumblr took my previous request to the grave (I sent it a week or more ago, I think), but it doesn't matter right now.

tomorrow's my birthday! Can I order you some Vampire Skz? Delicious and so addictive that it'll make my head spin all day? I don't have an idea in mind, but if I ever have one, I'll send it as I'm slowly going crazy.

I hope you have a great day!

🦋🦋🦋ANON. BABY. BLOODLING. TUMBLR MAY HAVE BURIED YOUR ASK, BUT I’M DIGGING IT UP WITH CLAWS AND FANGS BECAUSE—

🎂🖤🩸HAPPY. MF. BIRTHDAY. 🩸🖤🎂 Today is your day. The moon is tilted in your favor. The blood tastes sweeter. The night is watching. The vampires are circling.

And since you placed an order for Vampire SKZ: Head-Spinning Edition™? Oh honey. You’ve unlocked the chef’s special.

Tonight, the boys are starved. They’ve been waiting. For you. 🕯️

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

Bang Chan

Gifts you: A limited edition Bvlgari Serpenti necklace, coiled in white gold with rubies for eyes—enchanted to warm whenever he’s thinking about you. And a black leather journal embossed with your initials in gold. Only you and him can read what’s written inside.

Birthday vibe: Puts everyone else to work. The party is seamless, custom-scented, candlelit, and guarded by his best men. But when you’re alone? He drops to his knees, kisses your wrist, and whispers: “Happy birthday, my love. You live. Therefore I exist.”

��⟡⸺

Lee Minho

Gifts you: A Cartier diamond panther ring, but altered—its eyes are opals enchanted to glow red when danger’s near. He slips it on your finger with velvet gloves and no expression. Also: an antique dagger you once admired in passing. He remembered.

Birthday vibe: Pretends it’s “just another night”, just standing in the kitchen together until he pulls you in randomly and starts dancing with you. No music. Just you and him. Low voice in your ear: “You age. I remain. But tonight, we’re both timeless.”

⸺⟡⸺

Seo Changbin

Gifts you: A blacked-out Hublot Big Bang watch, custom-designed with blood-red numerals and your name etched inside. Also: a solid gold bangle engraved with the word "Mine."

Birthday vibe: Roars your name across the room when you arrive. He lifts you up—literally—and spins you. Gets very drunk off synthetic blood. Guards your plate, your gifts, and you like a loyal war dog in Gucci.

⸺⟡⸺

Hwang Hyunjin

Gifts you: A Chanel couture choker with obsidian and pearl. One-of-a-kind. "Like you." Also: a bespoke painting of you resting in a garden, flowers blooming around you. It's heavenly. And majestic.

Birthday vibe: Whisks you to a greenhouse at midnight, covered in candles and vines. Dances with you under the moon. Kisses your palms. Says: “The world is ugly, but you’re the thing it got right.”

⸺⟡⸺

Han Jisung

Gifts you: A Tiffany diamond ear cuff, charmed to deliver soft telepathic messages only from him (like “You look hot,” “I miss you,” and “I’m so feral rn”). Also: limited-edition vinyls of your fave artists—and a playlist titled “🦋BITE ME.”

Birthday vibe: Crashes through the apartment like a gremlin with balloons, throws glitter everywhere, and demands a dance battle at 2AM. Later? Sings you a lullaby with your name in every verse.

⸺⟡⸺

Lee Felix

Gifts you: A Van Cleef & Arpels charm bracelet, each charm customized with a shared memory. One of them glows faintly—his favourite one. Also: a tiny plush bat wearing a crown. Handmade.

Birthday vibe: Makes you pancakes with chocolate syrup in the shape of hearts. Writes a 3-page birthday letter in calligraphy. Hugs you for 5 full minutes. Tells you you’re his favourite miracle.

⸺⟡⸺

Kim Seungmin

Gifts you: A Piaget rose gold locket that opens to reveal a spell: when you whisper his name, he appears beside you within seconds. Also: a bespoke library card engraved in silver that unlocks his secret archive.

Birthday vibe: Dressed immaculately. Appears unbothered. Then pulls you aside and gives a speech that leaves you sobbing. Hands you a handkerchief. Smirks. “Happy birthday, trouble.”

⸺⟡⸺

Yang Jeongin

Gifts you: A custom diamond waist chain with his initial at the center. Also: a rare signed first edition of your favourite book, sealed in protective blood magic.

Birthday vibe: Blushes when he sees you. Gets you blackout drunk. Ends up curled against you in silk, whispering that if anyone ever hurts you, he will end bloodlines. All of them. While holding your hand sweetly.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

I hope the entire universe bends in your favour today, my darling 🦋anon 💋🩸🕯️

#ask dakusan #skz #skz x reader #vampire!skz series #vampire!skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader

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freneticfloetry · 3 months ago

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In grand celebration of ACD’s birthday, the Red, White & Royal Box is officially live!

The RWRBox comes in two separate sizes, and each is chock full of FirstPrince jewelry, collectibles, and custom ephemera. Full details are available in the listing, but here’s a peek at each box, as well as a few of my favorite things.

Both boxes have decorative inside lids. The Curated Collection box sports a stylized “you and me and history” quote alongside firework art reminiscent of the collector’s edition cover, while the Complete Collection features a framed FirstPrince portrait by @ambiguouspenny, backed by architectural sketches of the White House and Kensington Palace and flanked with yellow and English tea roses.

(It is literally impossible to do that portrait justice in a photo. I keep trying, but it honestly has to be seen in person for full impact. The veladora art, meanwhile, has been my lockscreen for months.)

The canon ephemera was painstakingly recreated from real-life examples. There was no Wimbledon in 2020, obviously, but Alex’s gold-foiled pass is based on two recent tickets to the Royal Box. For Henry’s gold-embossed invite to the White House, I studied past State Dinner invitations until my eyes crossed (and went through four rounds of typesetting revisions to find the perfect Copperplate font). And as for his little souvenir from the Olympics… that was based on an actual ticket to a Rio 2016 diving event (not the finals, but still — I swear you can find anything on the internet if you just go far enough down the rabbit hole). Dates on the tickets are completely book accurate.

Both pieces of post-canon ephemera feature messages from Alex to Henry. Had to lean into my fanfic roots somehow.

Each bracelet comes with a set of standard charms by default (their initials, a wedding cake, a love letter, and either an aquamarine — their joint birthstone — or a silver heart and red, white, and royal blue glass pearls). Customization-wise, there are almost forty additional charms to choose from.

The silk ipê-amarelo blossoms are from vintage garlands made by a local vendor and sadly not available anymore. Which is tragic, since they’re absolutely perfect.

With a few exceptions (the trinket box, room spray bottle, noisemakers, and portrait frame) the non-print items included in each collection were all sourced from small businesses and independent creators.

The stash of vintage and antique Austens amassed for this is probably out of control. They’re all hardcover and in fantastic condition, and span all titles (though it is, admittedly, pretty P&P heavy). The latest is from 1980, but the earliest thus far is that amazing pocket edition of Sense & Sensibility, which is from 1913.

The linen & room spray is skin-safe, though (for me, at least) it’s much more an atmospheric scent than a wearable one. For the record, the notes are “bergamot, clean linen, fresh cut grass, roasted coffee, a dash of cinnamon, and a whisper of smoke.” One of these days I’ll stop spraying my room down with it every night before bed.

Henry’s journal is covered in grey suiting tweed and has a tiny silver fox foiled on the cover, which makes me irrationally happy every time I see it.

Alex’s (lurid teal) “Hoe Dameron” kimono is fully embroidered, not screen printed. It does indeed have pockets. :)

I know I’ve teased this project twice already, but after months of building it bit by bit, it’s amazing to have it done and out in the world. I love these boys, and I’m so excited for the fandom to see everything inside. And to anyone who actually does order a collection, i just want to say thank you here — as a multiracial AfroLatina with my own ally to questioning to queer journey, Alex and his story mean so much to me, and I loved getting to bring it to life in this way.

You can find the Red, White & Royal Box here, with a full breakdown of what’s included in each collection.

A portion of each sale benefits the Broadway Youth Center, which provides basic needs, health and social services, and gender-affirming care to LGBTQ+ young people here in Chicago experiencing homelessness and housing instability.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask away — my comments and inbox are open. :)

(And for my fellow Tarlos folks: you’re up next.)

I am once again tagging the FirstPrince mutuals: @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @three-drink-amy @orchidscript @firstprince-history-huh @never-blooms @liminalmemories21 @cha-melodius @lightningboltreader @danieljradcliffe @actual-sleeping-beauty

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex claremont-diaz #henry fox-mountchristen-windsor #fandom memorabilia #red white and royal box #portmanteau project #happy birthday acd

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snek-panini · 10 months ago

Text

Book time! I want to post all my new stuff but don't want to flood people with them, so I waited a bit after my last one to put this one up, but I can't wait any longer to show it off. This is The Rose and the Serpent, a Good Omens Beauty and the Beast AU by Atalan. I know there's some kind of fairy tale fic event going on in the fandom right now but this one is from a few years back, so if that's your thing and you're impatient go check this one out.

I'm totally in love with how this one came out. It's like, if you had a cartoon character who's reading a plot-relevant book of fairy tales, this is the book you'd draw for them. Belle has this book. It's perfect for its niche. The front cover is burgundy cardstock with brown faux leather on the spine, and antique-brass-finish photo corners to protect the edges. The rose was done with gold embossing powder and a stamp, since I can't draw and those lines are too fine for the cricut. The batch of books I'm working through now is my first time experimenting with legal quarto size (legal size paper (8.5x14 in.) folded twice) and everyone who raved about it is right. It's very satisfying to hold and was a joy to make.

Check out the rest of my photos under the cut!

Close up of the photo corners and a view of the spine. I've never used photo corners before, partly because I don't ever see them on commercial books, but they just felt right for this project so I felt it was time to experiment. I didn't glue them down, just clamped them closed with jewelry pliers, and I was worried they wouldn't stay in place but they seem to be fine. Cardstock isn't a very hard-wearing material, and if it has a white core it tends to show at the corners of the book where it rubs against things, even under light handling. Hopefully the metal corners will protect it.

The spine title came out well. I was worried about matching the color with the embossing powder color on the front, but they came out fine and I'm very pleased.

Top view, with handmade red-and-green endbands and a green ribbon bookmark. Both of these were chosen to match the absolutely gorgeous endpapers with this mosaic flower pattern. They're chiyogami from ChibiJay and they're stunning; the photos don't do them justice. I bought them because they remind me of the stained glass windows in the Disney Beauty and the Beast. CJ has this great deal where you can make custom paper packs in pre-cut sizes for a discounted price, and they've got hundreds of patterns. This isn't sponsored, by the way, I just think they're awesome.

Some photos of the title page and first page of the story. I'm experimenting with DaFont some more. The one on the title page and for the chapter numbers is called Christmas Card, and the drop capital is called Floral Capitals, both free to use for personal projects. I've only done drop caps on a couple of projects, because for purely personal aesthetic reasons I don't like when they sink into the paragraph, but if I can mimic them by just making the first letter huge? Love that. Defintely going to keep doing that. Can never get the kerning to look right when I do it the regular way, but with this it isn't an issue.

The graphics on the title page are re-used from an older project, but they were so perfect for this one that I just went with it.

As I said above, this is my first legal quarto but it for sure won't be my last! There are three more in this batch, and they're so pleasant to hold that I'll for sure be making more before too long.

#good omens #bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #god look at it i love it so much #i know i always say that but dammit it's always true #fic rec

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magic-shop-stories · 4 months ago

Note

bts dad headcannon when their child comes out as gay

💌 Reply:

OMG, YES! I thought about this as well and I'm just so in love with your request - THANK YOU; THANK YOU; THANK YOU! I actually wanted to take a little writing break since I have so much to do and two major uni assignments I didnt even begin with yet (RIP) but I couldn't resist this one 🌈💜 Hope it's what you expected and you enjoy reading it Lots of Army LOVE - C -

NAMJOON

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

discovers a sketchbook left open on the coffee table

inside a detailed drawing of his child holding hands with someone of the same gender

labeled “Us Against the World”

his glasses fog up

he traces the lines with his thumb

carefully places the sketchbook back exactly as it was

Scenario 2

overhears his child rehearsing a conversation in their bedroom:

“Dad, I’m gay. Dad, I’m... no, that sounds too formal. Ugh.”

he lingers in the hallway

heart pounding

knocking softly

Scenario 3

his child writes him a letter and slips it into his favorite philosophy book

he finds it while annotating “The Art of Loving”

reads it under his desk lamp

tears smudging the ink

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

adjusts his glasses three times in rapid succession (a nervous tic)

its cross-legged on the floor to meet their eye level

knees cracking audibly

his voice wavers but stays steady:

“This… this is sacred. Thank you for trusting me.”

First Words

“Love isn’t a debate. It’s a fact. And you’ve always been brilliant at facts.”

“Do you need me to listen, or would you prefer a Rumi quote? I’ve prepared both.”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Did I make our home a sanctuary? Or did they carry this alone?”

stares at his parenting bookshelf at 2 AM

reorganizing it by “urgency”

texts Yoongi:

“Hyung. What if I’m not enough for them?”

Yoongi replies:

“You’re their dad. That’s the job description.”

writes a poem in his journal:

“My child’s heart is a galaxy - uncharted, infinite, mine to protect.”

Guilt/Pride Duality

buys a pride flag

but hides it in his closet for a week

agonizing over “Is this supportive or performative?”

secretly researches PFLAG meetings

bookmarks “How to Advocate for LGBTQ+ Youth” on his phone

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Meaning

leather-bound journal with their name embossed in gold

inside a handwritten note:

“The world will try to edit your story. Never let it.”

vintage typewriter with a half-written poem loaded:

“Chapter One: The Bravest Person I Know.”

a potted monstera plant:

“It grows wild and unapologetic. Like you.”

Rituals of Reassurance

starts a “Midnight Philosophy Club”

hot cocoa, blankets, and deep talks under the stars

“Aristotles said… actually, forget him. You teach me tonight.”

takes them to a quiet art museum

lingering at abstract paintings

“See how colors clash? That’s where the magic is.”

Defense Mode

at a family gathering someone mutters: “It’s just a phase.”

he calmly sets down his wine:

“Phases are the moon’s business. We orbit love here.”

emails their school principal a 7-point list demanding LGBTQ+ inclusivity training, cc’ing the entire PTA

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

buys her a custom necklace with a pendant shaped like a quill

“Write your own narrative.”

takes her to a women-led bookstore for LGBTQ+ lit

Defense

interrupts a rude classmate’s parent at pickup:

“Bigotry is the real ‘phase’ here. Grow up.”

Bonding

bakes banana bread together

dissecting “The Handmaid’s Tale”

“Rebellion tastes sweet, huh?”

Son

Comfort

gifts him a vintage bomber jacket

hidden inner patch: “Proud AF.”

teaches him to fix a bike tire

"...so you always have an escape route.”

Defense

shows up to his soccer game wearing a “Free Hugs” shirt

glaring at teammates who snicker

Bonding

hikes a mountain at dawn

at the peak, Namjoon mutters:

“You’re my greatest climb.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Banana Milk Spill

during a hug, he knocks over his drink

“Ah—symbolic! Growth requires… mess.”

Playlist Feels

creates a “Love Louder” playlist:

“Born This Way” (Lady Gaga) “Answer: Love Myself” (BTS) “She” (Harry Styles) / “He” (Jake Scott) depending on child’s preference

Secret Support

donates to the Trevor Project under the pseudonym “RM’s Kid”

hangs the receipt on the fridge

“Quiet change matters too.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUFF)

Angst Phase

accidentally misgenders their partner

spends hours practicing in front of the mirror:

“They. Them. They. Got it.”

writes a 10-page letter to HYBE’s legal team about “minor privacy rights”

= after paparazzi snap a photo of his child

Fluff Phase

hosts a “Family Pride Picnic” in the park

packed with rainbow sandwiches, a Bluetooth speaker blasting “Firework”, and a “Free Dad Hugs” sign

drops them off at their first date

whispering: “Text me if you need an awkward philosopher rescue mission.”

JIN

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

during a Mario Kart showdown, his child pauses the game mid-race

“Appa… I need to tell you something.”

Jin’s character drives off Rainbow Road as he mutters

“Oh shit, I’m losing and having a Moment™.”

Scenario 2

overhears their phone call with a friend:

“I’m gonna come out to Dad tonight. He’ll probably make a dad joke and cry.”

he pretends not to hear

then practices his response in the mirror for an hour

Scenario 3

finds a love letter in their backpack addressed to someone of the same name

instead of snooping, he leaves a note:

“Your penmanship needs work. P.S. I’m always Team You.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

drops his controller/spoon

“Wait—let me pose dramatically.”

strikes a “Worldwide Handsome” stance to lighten the mood

pulls them into a theatrical hug

lifting them off the ground

“Group hug! Me, you, and my massive pride!”

First Words

“Cool! Does this mean I get two sons/daughters-in-law to spoil? Cha-ching!”

“You’re gay? Finally! Now we can argue over who’s hotter: Chris Evans or me.”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Did I joke too much? Do they think I’m not taking this seriously?”

texts Namjoon:

“Quick! Send me serious dad tips. EMERGENCY.”

secretly watches coming out compilations on YouTube

sobbing into a tissue:

“Why am I crying? I’m the supportive one!”

Guilt/Pride Duality

buys a rainbow “#1 Ally” pin

agonizes over wearing it:

“Is this too extra? …Wait, I’m Jin. Nothing’s too extra.”

practices “I’m proud of you” in the mirror

then cringes:

“Ugh, too basic. Need more… Jin.”

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Flair

custom pink gaming headset (matching his mic) with their name in glitter:

“Now we can slay and slay together.”

“Worldwide Proud” hoodie with a cartoon

Jin winking

“Wear this when you need backup swag.”

tickets to a K-pop LGBTQ+ fan meeting & concert

“Let’s go judge everyone’s bias lists. Spoiler: Mine’s still the best.”

Rituals of Reassurance:

starts “Jin’s Joke Jar”

writes affirmations on paper slips

“Pull one when the world sucks. Guaranteed dad joke or life advice!”

examples:

“Why did the rainbow blush? Because it saw the gay agenda!” “You’re my favorite human in HD.”

hosts a family gaming marathon with LGBTQ+ themed games (“Life is Strange”, “The Last of Us”)

“If Ellie can survive zombies, you can survive high school.”

Defense Mode

a dinner party, a relative scoffs, “It’s unnatural.”

Jin deadpans:

“So is your hairline, but here we are.”

joins their school’s Discord to “accidentally” leak his own embarrassing childhood photos

diverting bullies’ attention

“Let them meme me instead.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

takes her shopping for oversized hoodies “to steal later”

secretly buys her a BT21 RJ plush with a pride flag

“For emotional support and judging my dance moves.”

Bonding

hosts a makeover night with sheet masks and “RuPaul’s Drag Race”

“I’d slay as a queen. Fight me.”

Defense

crashes her school dance with a karaoke machine

singing “Born This Way” until the principal begs him to stop

Son

Comfort

teaches him self-defense moves using “dad reflexes”

“If anyone messes with you, tickle them. Works on Jungkook every time.”

Bonding

challenges him to games

then “accidentally” loses

“Oops! Guess you’re the carry now.”

Defense

shows up to his matches with a mega horn

blasting “Not Today” whenever opponents jeer

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Pink Mic Parallel

gifts them a pink water bottle with “Hydrate or Jindrate” printed on it

Gaming Shoutouts

uses the username “Seokjin_ssi” in their multiplayer games

“Watch me Epic Victory Royal these homophobes.”

Secret Support

donates to It Gets Better Project under the alias “Mr. Worldwide Handsome”

hangs the certificate in the bathroom

“Read it while you brush! Multitasking!”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUFF)

Angst Phase

accidentally calls their crush “just a friend”

spends the night baking apology cookies shaped like rainbows

“I’m learning, okay? Here’s carbs.”

sneaks into their room at 3 AM to leave a handwritten letter:

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like a joke. You’re my best punchline.”

Fluff Phase

co-hosts a charity livestream with them

playing Overwatch while raising funds for LGBTQ+ youth

“Donate or I’ll sing Super Tuna on loop!”

drops them off at prom with a “Good Luck” banner taped to the car

“Text me if you need a fake fire alarm rescue. I’ve got matches.”

YOONGI

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

overhears their child practicing a song they wrote in his home studio

lyrics include: “I’m tired of hiding in minor chords.”

he pauses outside the door

hand frozen on the doorknob

then texts his manager:

“Cancel my meetings. Family emergency.”

Scenario 2

finds a dog-eared notebook in his old high school box

left open to his child’s doodles: a basketball hoop with a pride flag net

stares at it

tucks it into his current work bag

Scenario 3

his child slips a note into his production notes:

“Appa, I’m gay. P.S. Your coffee’s cold.”

reads it mid-session

saves the project file as “Proud.parenting.wav”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

nods silently, jaw tightening

rolls a basketball between his palms (his stress ball)

“You’re sure?”

pauses

“Good. I’m sure too.”

if emotional: rubs his nape, avoiding eye contact

“I… need a minute.”

returns with two cans of cold brew and a high school mixtape

First Words

“Life’s already hard enough. This? This is the easy part.”

“You know I wrote gay fanfiction in high school, right? No one bullies my kid but me.”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Should I tell them I get it? No. Privacy matters.”

texts Namjoon:

“How do I… parent right now?”

late-night studio session:

creates a hidden track titled “Answer: Love Yourself (Remix)”

= their heartbeat sampled

Guilt/Pride Duality

digs out his old fanfiction (username: glossyWRITES)

considers burning it

“Nah. Growth.”

researches LGBTQ+ youth centers near his childhood Daegu home

donates anonymously

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Edge

custom basketball with “Net Worth = You” printed

“Dunk on the haters. Literally.”

USB drive labeled “Track 08: Unreleased”

containing a beat made from their laugh

“For when words fail.”

black hoodie with “민윤기’s Kid” embroidered in tiny rainbow thread

“Wear it or don’t. I would.”

Rituals of Reassurance

teaches them basketball drills at dawn

“Life’s a full-court press. Swish anyway.”

invites them to his studio

hands them the aux cord

“Play me your anthem. I’ll produce it.”

Defense Mode

at a TV host asks if he’s “disappointed”

he leans into the mic:

“Next question. Or I’ll diss you in Daechwita 2.0.”

sends their school a cease-and-desist from HYBE’s lawyers over bullying

“Copyright claim on my kid’s happiness.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

gifts her noise-canceling headphones:

“Block the noise. I’ll handle the mess.”

teaches her bass guitar to “channel rage into riffs.”

Bonding

late-night drives blasting “Seesaw”

“This song? Yeah, it’s about choices. Like choosing to be you.”

Defense

shows up to her art show with a hired bodyguard

“For the haters, not you. You’re the masterpiece.”

Son

Comfort

secretly enrolls him in boxing lessons

“Not to fight. To know you can.”

leaves honey butter chips on his desk post-training

Bonding

plays 1v1 basketball

“accidentally” missing shots

“Old man joints. You win.”

Defense

leans against his locker

glaring at bullies

“I’ve got time. Try me.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Studio Secrets

names a synth preset “My Child’s Voice” in his DAW

uses it in BTS’s next song

Basketball Nostalgia

wears his high school jersey to their games

number 3 for “third mixtape, third chance to be better”.

Fanfiction Nod

slips an old fanfic printout into their backpack

highlighted line: “Love isn’t a subplot.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUF)

Angst Phase

overhears them crying after a breakup

stands frozen in the hallwaw

fists clenched

texts Jin:

“How do I… fix this?”

Jin replies:

“Just be there.”

writes a rap verse about fear of failure as a dad

deletes it immediately

“Too raw. Save it for them.”

Fluff Phase

surprises them with a collab with an LGBTQ+ artist they idolize

“You said you liked their vibe. I said let’s work.”

drops them off at a protest

hands them a megaphone

“Scream loud. I’ll handle the noise complaints.”

J-HOPE

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

notices his child borrowing his neon bucket hats and pride flag pins from his closet

instead of confronting them, he lays out a styling challenge:

“Let’s revamp my wardrobe. You pick the fits.”

midway, he grins:

“The pink hair clip? Iconic. But it’d look better on you.”

Scenario 2

overhears them teaching a friend how to paint nails in his signature style

glitter gradients with tiny hearts

peeks in, holding a bottle of rainbow holographic polish:

“Need a pro?”

Scenario 3

finds a draft text on their phone:

“Appa, I’m gay. P.S. Your dance moves are still cringe.”

leaves a sticky note on their mirror:

“Correction: Iconic cringe. P.P.S. I love you.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

claps hands once

loud and bright

“Okay! Okay! Let’s celebrate!”

immediately plays “Chicken Noodle Soup”

does a ridiculous shoulder shimmy

tears up but blinks rapidly

fanning his face with a sequined fan from his back pocket

“Allergies! Definitely allergies!”

First Words

“You’re my kid. Of course you’d come out in style.”

“I knew you were stealing my glitter! Parent intuition!”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Did I make enough space for them? Was my ‘vibe’ too loud?”

texts Jimin:

“Am I… too much?”

Jimin replies:

“You’re enough. Now go hug your baby.”

buys every pride-themed accessory online

panics:

“Is this support or overkill? …Both. Both is good.”

Guilt/Pride Duality

rewatches their childhood dance video

wondering if he pushed his dreams onto them

creates a secret Pinterest board titled “Proud Dad Looks” with matching parent-child outfits

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Glitter

customized jacket (for both of you)

“J-Hope’s #1 Fan” on the back

“#1 Dad/Child” on the front

“Wear it to the haters’ funerals.”

DIY nail art kit with his face on the lid

“For when you need sunshine on your fingertips.”

tickets to a queer dance festival

“We’re entering the parent-child duo category. Spoiler: We’ll win.”

Rituals of Reassurance

hosts a “Closet Raid Day”

style each other in outrageous outfits

then strut through the mall

“Confidence is couture, baby!”

teaches them his “Hope on the Street” moves

adapting the choreo to their comfort

“No rules. Just joy.”

Defense Mode

at a family gathering, a cousin sneers: “Isn’t this just a phase?”

hewhips out his phone, blasting “Outro: Ego”:

“Phase? This is a bop.”

floods their school’s Instagram with thirst traps to overshadow bully comments

“Let’s see them roast this jawline.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

hosts a “Glow-Up Night”

face masks, karaoke

teaching her to “walk in heels like a CEO”

“Stilettos are weapons. Wield them.”

Bonding

co-designs a pride-themed dance routine for TikTok

“We’re gonna break the algorithm AND hearts.”

Defense

storms into her school in a head-to-toe rainbow tracksuit to confront a teacher

“You got a problem? Battle me.”

Son

Comfort

surprises him with gender-neutral streetwear from his favorite brand

“Swag doesn’t care about labels.”

Bonding

takes him thrifting for oversized hoodies and vintage band tees

“Distressed fabric = distressed haters.”

Defense

joins his gaming livestream with a sign:

“Proud Dad Alert! Donate to GLAAD or perish.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Hope World Nods

gifts them a neon fanny pack

stuffed with peach emoji stickers and a mixtape USB titled “Hope World: Parental Guidance Edition”

Dance Legacy

sneaks their signature move into BTS’s choreography

“Look closely at Boy With Luv… That’s your flair.”

Mic Toss Energy

replaces their room’s lightswitch with a pink glitter cover

“Every time you turn it on, remember: You’re the light.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUF)

Angst Phase:

accidentally misgenders their partner

spends the night baking rainbow macarons as apology

“I’m learning. Here’s sugar and shame.”

finds them crying to “Blue Side”

sits silently

handing them his lucky bandana to wipe tears

“I’m here. Always.”

Fluff Phase

organizes a flash mob at HYBE with BTS’s/ his backup dancers

“Surprise! Your dad’s extra.”

drops them off at prom with a disco ball necklace

“If anyone’s rude, blinding them is self-defense.”

JIMIN

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

happens during a late-night movie marathon

they pause “Love, Simon”

whisper: “Appa… that’s me.”

Jimin freezes

then pulls them into his lap like he did when they were small

stroking their hair

Scenario 2

finds their sketchbook open to a self-portrait with a pride flag painted over their heart

he traces the lines with his finger

tears smudging the charcoal

Scenario 3

overhears them practicing “I’m gay” to a mirror

he leans against the doorframe

arms crossed, smiling softly

“Your pronunciation’s perfect. Proud.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

eyes well up instantly

lip trembling

“Come here. Come here.”

pulls them into a back-breaking hug

swaying side-to-side

whispers into their hair:

“My baby. My brave, beautiful baby.”

voice cracks on “brave.”

First Words

“You’re my heart. Nothing changes that. Nothing.”

“Thank you. For trusting me. For… existing.”

HOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Did I hug them enough? Did they ever feel small because of me?”

texts Taehyung:

“What if I failed them?”

Tae replies:

“You’re their safe place. Always.”

writes a letter he’ll never send:

“I spent years hating my body. Let me love yours enough for both of us.”

Guilt/Pride Duality

buys every LGBTQ+ YA novel he can find

dog-earing pages with lines he wants to discuss

secretly researches PFLAG meetings but attends virtually in a disguise

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Grace:

bracelet with a charm shaped like a shield

“To remind you: I’m your armor.”

blanket embroidered with “You Are Enough” in his handwriting

“Wrap yourself in this when the world is cold.”

self-care kit with his favorite lavender oil, a Serendipity playlist, and a jade roller

“For when your heart feels heavy.”

Rituals of Reassurance:

starts “Cuddle Therapy Sundays”:

nestled on the couch

he lets them pick the movie while he braids their hair or rubs their back

“No talking. Just feel.”

teaches them breathing exercises from his trainee days

“Inhale love, exhale fear. Again.”

Defense Mode

at a school event, a parent mutters “sin.”

Jimin steps forward, smile icy

“I’d pray for you, but I’m too busy worshipping my child.”

pays for a billboard near their school:

“Proud Parent Alert! 🏳️🌈”

has his phone number on it (fake - goes straight to a LQBTQ+ donation hotline)

“Complaints? Call me.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

takes her to a dance class for queer teens

“Move like nobody owns you.”

twirls her until she laughs

Bonding

co-writes a poem titled “The Language of My Body"

reads it aloud at an open mic, holding her hand

Defense

storms into a store where a clerk misgenders her

buys everything in her cart

demands the clerk apologize

Son

Comfort

gifts him a weighted blanket

sits with him during panic attacks

“Your strength is quiet. I’m here for it.”

Bonding

teaches him stretching routines to ease dysphoria

“Your body is yours. Treat it kindly.”

Defense

joins his gaming stream with a “Proud Dad” username

donating thousands to shut down trolls

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Serendipity Symbolism

adds a butterfly charm to their bracelet

“Like the song. You are my serendipity.”

Lie Detector

recreates his “Lie” MV makeup on them for pride

“Now you’re art and truth.”

Promise Rings

wears a matching mother-of-pearl ring

“Forever connected. No take-backs.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUFF)

Angst Phase

overhears them criticizing their body in the mirror

interrupts

voice shaking:

“I see perfection. Let me… show you.”

writes a verse about his parenting fears

then burns it

“Ash to growth.”

Fluff Phase

dances with them at pride

both wearing matching crop tops

“They said ‘cover up.’ We said sparkle.”

surprises them with a custom song produced by Yoongi and him

lyrics: “You’re the chorus to my verse. Always.”

TAEHYUNG

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

discovers his child’s secret Instagram account

filled with self-portraits in drag-inspired makeup

Taehyung screenshots their favorite look

texts: “Need a wig consultant? Asking for a friend.”

Scenario 2

finds a crumpled note in their jacket pocket:

“I’m gay. But what if Appa hates me?”

slips it into his vintage camera case

takes them on a photo walk to “accidentally” capture rainbow graffiti

Scenario 3

overhears them humming “Sweet Night” while sketching a queer retelling of The Little Prince

leans over their shoulder:

“The rose would’ve slayed in drag.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

gasps dramatically

clutching his chest

“You’re gay?! Finally someone to raid my glitter stash!”

pulls them into a hug

nuzzling their hair

whispers “My little Picasso” while wiping away a tear

First Words

“You’re my masterpiece. This is just another brushstroke.”

“Remember when I dressed as a mermaid for Halloween? This is way cooler.”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Do they know I get it? Should I tell them about my drag phase? No—their story first.”

texts Jimin:

“How do I glitter-parent? HELP.”

digs out his old drag king sketches from high school

smiling at the memory

“Maybe we can revamp these together.”

Guilt/Pride Duality

buys every issue of "Queer Eye"

leaves them stacked in their room

“For research. Totally not obsessed.”

practices pronouns in the mirror:

“They/them. They/them. They/them.”

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Glam

vintage leather jacket from his closet

lined with a pride flag

“Wear it like armor. Or just to look cool.”

polaroid camera and a scrapbook titled “The Art of Being You”

“Document your glow-up. I’ll handle the captions.”

tickets to a drag brunch

“We’re both getting makeovers. No excuses.”

Rituals of Reassurance

hosts “Vante Vision Board Nights”:

collages of queer icons, glitter, and magazine cutouts

“Manifest your fiercest self.”

teaches them film photography in abandoned theaters

capturing their “coming out” journey in moody monochromes

Defense Mode

at a family dinner, an uncle scoffs: “Why the theatrics?”

Taehyung stands, adjusting his beret:

“Why the boredom?”

drops a pride flag on the table as a centerpiece

collaborates with a queer artist to paint a mural on their school wall

“Vandalism? No. Artistic justice.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

takes her thrifting for ’70s bell-bottoms and sequined tops

“Channel your inner Bowie. I’ll be your Iman.”

Bonding

hosts a “Runway Night” in their living room

struts in his old drag king suit

she wears his CELINE heels

Defense

storms into her school play wearing a “Proud Dad of a Diva” shirt

heckles anyone who dares yawn

Son

Comfort

gifts him a saxophone (because jazz = freedom)

“Blow away the blues. I’ll dance.”

Bonding

binge-watches queer cinema classics.

cries at “Moonlight”

“This is us, baby.”

Defense

joins his matches as coach

substituting bullies with pride flag cones

“New rule: Love scores.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Drag King Nods

gifts them a fake mustache as an insider joke

“For when you need mystique.”

Vante Vibes

sneaks a grayscale photo of them into his art exhibit

caption: “My Muse in Living Color.”

Jazz Soul

plays “Singularity” on loop during heart-to-hearts

“This song? Yeah, it’s about owning your shadows.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUF)

Angst Phase

overhears them crying after a date gone wrong

sits outside their door, humming “Winter Bear” until they let him in

“I’m here. Always.”

accidentally misgenders their crush

bakes apology croissants

leaves a note: “Flaky outside, soft inside. Like me and you.”

Fluff Phase

surprises them with a collab photoshoot for a queer magazine

“You’re the star. I’m just the groupie.”

drops them off at prom in a vintage convertible, blasting “Dynamite”

“If anyone’s rude, dance harder.”

JUNGKOOK

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

discovers bandages in their trash bin

they’ve been distant for week

his hands shake

he Googles “how to help LGBTQ+ kids” at 3 AM

texts Jin:

“Hyung. Emergency. What do I do?”

Scenario 2

paparazzi photos surface of his child holding hands with their same-gender crush

Jungkook storms out of a photoshoot

speeding to their school in his blacked-out car to shield them from cameras

Scenario 3

finds them curled up in his old BTS concert hoodie

silent for days

sits cross-legged on the floor

voice cracking:

“Talk to me. Please. I’ll learn whatever I need to.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

Angst

paces the room

running hands through his hair

“I should’ve noticed. I should’ve...”

texts Namjoon:

“Did I fail them?”

Fluff

pulls them into a bear hug

lifting them off the ground

“You’re safe. I’ll fight the world.”

First Words

“You’re my baby. That’s the only label that matters.”

“Who hurt you? Tell me. I’ll… I’ll learn archery.”

stares at his Bulletproof tattoo

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Why didn’t they tell me? Am I scary?”

calls Jimin, whispering:

“Hyung, how do I… soften?”

buys pride merch but hides it

worried it’s “too much”

Yoongi advises:

“Just be you. They’ll know it’s real.”

Guilt/Pride Duality:

practices “I’m proud of you” in sign language after learning their crush is Deaf

“They’ll feel it if I mess up.”

tattoos a semicolon behind his ear

“Your story isn’t over. I’m here.”

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Meaning

custom gaming PC with a rainbow-lit keyboard

“For when words are hard. Game with me.”

matching tattoo of their initials in rainbow

“You’re my bullseye. Always.”

a rescue puppy named Hope

“Now you’ve got two golden retrievers.”

points to himself

Rituals of Reassurance

teaches them self defense at dawn

“Focus on the target. Ignore the noise.”

creates a “Safe Word” system:

if they text “Magic Shop”, he drops everything to pick them up

Defense Mode

Media Exposure

hires HYBE’s legal team to sue the paparazzi

release a vlog titled “Proud Dad” trending #1 worldwide

Bullying

shows up to their school in his MMA gear

glaring at teachers

“Protect my kid or I’ll.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

takes her camping to stargaze

“The universe made you perfect. Argue with the stars.”

Bonding

bakes rainbow cake while blasting “Euphoria”

“Sweetness beats bitterness. Every time.”

Defense

buys her a self-defense ring

“Press this if anyone’s rude. I’ll handle the police.”

Son

Comfort

bonds over weightlifting

“Strength isn’t for them. It’s for you.”

Bonding

co-writes a song about resilience

Jungkook raps:

“My son’s a king. Bow down.”

Defense

joins his gaming stream

donating $10k to shut down trolls

“GG, haters. Dad’s richer.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Golden Touch

gifts them a gold chain to match his own

“Wear it when you need to shine.”

Tattoo Tribute

adds a rainbow heart to his sleeve tattoo

“For you. My STAR.”

Mixtape Feels

makes them a playlist titled “My Time (But Yours)”

includes songs like “Love Myself” and “Zero O’Clock”.

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUF)

Angst Phase

accidentally smothers them with too much protection

texts Taehyung:

“How do I not hover?”

Tae replies:

“Breathe. Trust them.”

finds their journal entry:

“I’m a burden.”

cries into Hobi’s shoulder:

“How do I fix this?”

Fluff Phase

surprises them with a family trip to Jeju

builds a bonfire, roasting marshmallows

“You’re my light. Always.”

drops them off at college with a care package:

ramyeon, bandaids

a note: “Text ‘Magic Shop’ and I’ll fly there.”

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ivygrowncowboy · 5 months ago

Text

loustat celebrity au drabble

the beginnings of a little something i've been cooking up.... (1080 words)

a red carpet (a reckoning)

“Are you excited to see anyone in particular tonight?” It’s an airy question that bubbles out of a gap-toothed, lip-glossed mouth. The blonde hair spills over a glimmering shoulder and the eyes blink up at Louis in practiced anticipation.

Louis glances at the embossed black letters on her microphone and swears internally. The elegant lettering of Vogue glances back at him and he allows himself two seconds of respite before clenching his jaw and letting a rehearsed response cycle through his brain and make its way out of his mouth. He smiles, devastating, and meets the young reporter’s (influencer’s?) eyes, leaning down to speak into the microphone.

“Absolutely,” he says, butter melting on his tongue. “Yeah, always.” The noise of the red carpet comes rushing back at him, sequins and camera flashes, the hyena bark of the photographers, and the practiced litany of the publicists. Louis feels his heart drop down to his polished shoes and he spits out another shiny line, brushed over by his exhaustive team, always clamoring behind him. “It’s always a pleasure to see any of my co-stars.”

He raises his eyes to meet the blonde before him, begging for mercy. Her own eyes twinkle back at him, knowing and ravenous. “Are you aware that a certain Mr. Lioncourt is rumored to be in attendance tonight?”

Louis’s jaw pulses, once. Twice. He cocks his head and flits his eyes sideways, greeted by the panicked and ruthless face of one Daniel Molloy. Daniel quickly takes in Louis’ drawn expression, jaw bearing down and eyes simmering in anger. A minute shake of the head. Another plea for mercy. Don’t fucking get us plastered on the front cover of Page 6 again, his publicist practically telepathically communicates to him.

Louis sends him a sardonic grin in response and watches Daniel’s face shutter. He presses his lips together and breathes in deeply while staring somewhere to the side of the reporter’s face. As much as he might want to, he will not leave her in tears for asking such stupid fucking questions.

Still not meeting her eyes, he responds. Careless. “I did not,” he allows. A quick glance around his surroundings, as if invoking the name would cause him to appear, a wraith in the night, a flash of blood on a knife. Louis shoots a grim glance at the camera and swallows down the acid on his tongue. He feels as if he’s choking on the words as they rush up his throat, “But I cannot wait to see him once I get in there.”

The words echo in his mind and the room narrows in on his next words, tipping the balance of his world. Burning hatred slides down his spine as he watches the sequined dress of the reporter rustle on the floor.

“It’s been a while since we’ve caught up,” Louis says with finality, stepping away from the Vogue microphone with a steady eagerness. He lets the woman open her mouth, poison dripping from her veneers and he smiles at her, vacant with both eyebrows raised, and promptly spins around and strides off the final edges of the red carpet.

He feels sick. He is going to be sick, all over his custom Tom Ford. A telltale dry voice sounds from behind him and Louis starts shaking his head before he even hears the words that are coming out of Daniel’s mouth.

“Don’t start fucking shaking your head,” Daniel pushes out, out of breath from jogging to catch up with Louis.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” Louis says through a gritted smile, nodding at Vanity Fair’s camera team. He exhales once they clear them and finally turns his head to look at Daniel, eyes hard. “Did you know?”

“That your rockstar douchebag of an ex-husband would be at the Golden Globes?” A bitter laugh from Daniel, a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes as he returns Louis’ glance. “No. No, I did not.”

A delighted laugh sounds from their left and both Daniel and Louis pause briefly, watching a young B-List actress stagger drunkenly past the armada of cameras and publicists into the lobby, red lips flashing wide with a gummy smile, holding herself up with the poise of nobility despite her fawn-like gait in the black stilettos that frame her feet.

She passes them, hardly sparing a glance, and clutches onto the arm of a tuxedoed, extremely sweaty, extremely twitchy young man. A cloud of lavender. A splash of cold water.

Louis’s anger fades, leaving behind a steady, boiling, nausea and dread. He tears his gaze away from the redhead, still determinedly pushing forward, and looks back towards Daniel to see that he had already been looking at Louis, brow furrowed like he was seeing Armageddon play out on the hallowed steps of the Golden Globes.

“I didn’t know,” Daniel repeats, low. Apologetic, even.

Louis’s lips quirk up half-heartedly and he shrugs. “Ok.”

Daniel nods once and that’s that. His gaze presses forward, and Louis watches his body language change, determined. War pose. “It doesn’t matter,” he states, matter-of-fact.

Louis tilts his head, silently begging to differ. The fact that he was the shoo-in for best male performance in a drama series didn’t change the fact that half of his beating heart was being dragged somewhere in Hollywood, leaving a damned trail of blood behind him.

Lestat de Lioncourt was rumored to be in attendance tonight. If Vogue was saying it, it might as well be fact. Lestat might as well appear in a glittering suit and cutting smile at this very moment, threatening to bring Louis to his knees.

The fact that it’s been 10 years removed from a dingy penthouse in San Jose, the worst heartbreak Louis has ever known, 5 years removed from the worst public divorce Hollywood has ever seen, does not erase the fact that Louis feels a wound opening inside his chest, stitches being ripped out one-by-one in an agonizingly familiar torment.

“Sure,” Louis replies, feeling the late evening breeze of Beverly Hills sweep past him, the sticky scent of magnolia enveloping the air. “Let’s go with that.”

Daniel’s face is almost comically grim as they enter the dining hall. “Let’s,” he replies, closing the door behind him. Letting the coffin slam shut.

______________

to be continuted btw....this is just something i wrote bc my brain was driving me crazy

(if this gets even two notes i'll keep writing it....keep me motivated tumblr <3)

#iwtv #loustat fic #loustat #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #extremely unedited and self-indulgent writing #ivy writes

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ladybunny44 · 5 months ago

Note

Good afternoon, Bunny. I noticed you write for Food Wars (which in itself is pretty rare), so I came running. So, here's my first request here. Reader's high school bully sends her a wedding invite just to rub her happy life in Reader's face. Said bully's attempt to humiliate Reader backfires when Reader attends the wedding with Takumi as her plus-one. And as it turns out, Reader is also quite successful as a jewelry designer gaining international fame.

✨ A Taste of Sweet Revenge ✨

Pairing : Takumi Adlini x Fem!Reader

Genre : ☁️

Word count : ~2000

Summary : Your high school bully sends you a wedding invitation, not out of kindness but to flaunt her "perfect life" in your face. Little does she know, you’re bringing Takumi Aldini, a world-renowned chef and your supportive boyfriend, as your plus one. As a successful jewelry designer, you’re more than ready to prove that her attempts to humiliate you will only backfire. Featuring heartfelt moments, light humor, and a sweet taste of revenge served cold.

TW/CW : Mention of past bullying, Slight social tension at the wedding and fluff vibes. 🌷

NOTIFICATIONS ꩜ ₊ ⊹! : Good afternoon! It is pretty rare to see Food Wars x Reader so i decided to change that :) thank you for the request and enjoy! 📚

『••✎••』

The ornate envelope sat on your kitchen counter, the gold-embossed lettering practically screaming pretension. Your high school bully, Kara, had sent you a wedding invitation. Not out of kindness, you knew. This was her way of rubbing her "perfect life" in your face.

The thought alone churned your stomach, but when Takumi Aldini, your boyfriend, walked in holding two mugs of coffee, your perspective began to shift.

“What’s that?” Takumi asked, placing your favorite mug in front of you.

You sighed, sliding the invitation toward him. “It’s from Kara. My high school bully. She’s getting married and probably wants to show off.”

Takumi raised an eyebrow, reading the invitation. “Why would you even consider going?”

You smirked, an idea forming in your mind. “Oh, I’m going. But not to sulk. If she wants to show off, let’s give her a show of our own.”

Takumi tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “A show, huh? Count me in.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

『••✎••』

THE WEDDING DAY

The venue was extravagantly decorated, all crystal chandeliers and towering floral arrangements. Guests mingled in designer outfits, the air thick with artificial pleasantries. You stepped through the grand entrance, your arm looped through Takumi’s, both of you dressed to the nines.

You wore a sleek, custom-made gown adorned with jewelry from your own collection—delicate, glittering pieces that whispered elegance and screamed success. Takumi was no less impressive in his tailored suit, his golden hair perfectly styled, his confident demeanor turning heads.

Kara’s laughter echoed across the room as she entertained a group of guests, but the moment her eyes landed on you and Takumi, her smile faltered. She quickly recovered, striding toward you with an exaggerated air of friendliness.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “I didn’t think you’d make it!”

You returned her smile, equally saccharine. “How could I miss such a special day?”

Her eyes flickered to Takumi, who gave her a polite nod. “And who is this?”

“Oh, this is my boyfriend, Takumi Aldini,” you said casually. “You might have heard of him—he’s a world-renowned chef.”

Kara’s smile froze as recognition dawned on her face. “Oh... yes, of course.”

Takumi extended his hand, his charming Italian accent making every word sound like velvet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your wedding.”

Kara shook his hand, visibly rattled. “Thank you. I didn’t realize Y/N was dating someone so... accomplished.”

You chuckled. “Well, we’ve both been quite busy. I’ve been traveling a lot for my jewelry line—our latest collection just launched internationally.”

Kara’s face twitched, but before she could respond, a guest approached, gushing over Takumi and asking for a photo. As the guest dragged him away, you turned back to Kara, who was clearly struggling to maintain her composure.

“It’s funny,” you said, your tone light but pointed. “Back in high school, you always said I’d never amount to anything. Yet here we are.”

Kara’s smile was strained. “Well, I suppose people can surprise you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, your eyes gleaming. “Just like how life has a funny way of turning out better than you ever imagined.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

『••✎••』

As the night wore on, it became increasingly clear that Kara’s attempts to humiliate you had backfired spectacularly. Guests were far more interested in Takumi’s culinary career and your jewelry designs than Kara’s over-the-top wedding.

When it was time for dinner, Takumi couldn’t resist sampling the food, offering you playful commentary under his breath.

“This risotto,” he whispered, leaning close, “is an insult to Italian cuisine. I could make a better one blindfolded.”

You stifled a laugh, the warmth of his presence making the entire evening bearable—dare you say, even enjoyable.

By the time you left, hand in hand with Takumi, you felt lighter. The evening, once a looming specter of dread, had turned into a sweet victory.

“How do you feel?” Takumi asked as you walked to the car, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You smiled up at him, the crisp night air filling your lungs. “Like I just reclaimed a part of myself. And it’s all thanks to you.”

He stopped, turning to face you. “You didn’t need me to prove anything. You’ve always been incredible, Y/N. I’m just lucky I get to be by your side.”

Your heart swelled as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. In that moment, you realized that Kara’s opinion—or anyone else’s—didn’t matter.

What mattered was this: love, respect, and the life you’d built with someone who saw your worth, not despite your past, but because of everything it had made you.

#takumi aldini #takumi aldini x reader #shokugeki no soma #shokugeki no soma fanfiction #fluff #ladybunny #food wars x reader #x reader #x female reader

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rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing · 11 days ago

Text

Watching (PayuRain Edition)

Summary: Hidden beneath the newest and most prestigious opera house in Bangkok lies a secret club. Built by Pakin, managed by Sin, and a new favorite of Payu and Rain.

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Watching (PayuRain Edition)

Rain’s heart pounded in his chest as he and Payu waited in line.

They were on the farthest side of Bangkok, in an area he’d never been to before, outside of a famous opera house. It was named for some ancient aristocrat’s wife, and a carved likeness of her smiled down from either side of the main entrance.

The mighty building rose five stories tall, and was capped with a new domed roof that magnified so much as a whisper spoken from the stage. According to the stories on the news, it had the most perfect acoustic design in all of Thailand- if not the entire world. Sound flowed through the audience, making them not merely spectators at a show, but visitors peeking in on another world.

This was one of Pakin’s newest achievements. A jewel in his real estate empire to further legitimize himself and step out of the shadows his family had inhabited for so long.

People in various degrees of finery surrounded Payu and Rain, all waiting with tickets in hand. The more hardcore attendees of the two-year-old opera house discussed the resumes of various performers or musicians the opera had signed for the season- and rumors of a ballet taking residence inside as well.

Rain half-listened as he and Payu moved towards the doors one step at a time. He fidgeted with the ticket in his hand, excited and nervous at the same time.

“Ticket please,” a black-suited attendant stood before the grand doors. Payu and Rain handed theirs over together and the man scanned them before sending the couple through.

Payu held out his arm for Rain to take hold of as they entered the main lobby. There were men and women in expensive clothes milling about, waiting until the show was closer to beginning before taking their seats. A few took note of the stunning couple, and some even waved to Payu. Clients of the garage, familiar faces from Pakin’s race, or clients of the firm.

Instead of being drawn in to rub elbows, Payu led Rain through the lobby and up a grand staircase. Ahead of them the doors to floor-level seating were wide open to admit guests. On the left and right sides of the hall were two marble staircases that wound all the way up to various balconies and private boxes.

Thick carpets cushioned their footfalls as they walked not towards the staircases, but rather the coat check. Payu took Rain’s ticket and held it out to an attendant, who took note of something the one at the entrance did not know to look for- an imperfection in the embossed border of the card. Little more than a notch. He whipped a finger over the gold lettering- raised, not lowered.

The man nodded and scribbled something down, then waved the pair through a side door into the room itself.

A low counter ran beside the attendant with a main space open so that customers could remove their coats without worrying about being jostled in the main hall. The man nodded to the back of the room- a corner out of sight from the door or the hall-facing window of his booth. Once Rain and Payu reached that corner, he flipped a switch and the wood panel slid to the side.

“Your claim number will be thirty-eight.”

The door clicked shut behind them in an instant.

Well, when Pakin built the venue, perhaps legitimizing himself wasn’t the only goal. He was still Pakin, after all.

It was dark in the hidden passage, but clean and wide enough for Payu and Rain to walk side by side. The jacket of his suit brushed against the cool wall, and Rain was careful not to scuff his shoes on the tile floor. There were breaks in the walls every few feet, and cuts out of the tile to facilitate something moving along a track.

Payu led Rain further and further, until they came to another wooden wall that blocked their path. They stopped close to the wall and waited.

“The wall is closing,” a voice from below said.

Rain glanced back as a mahogany panel slid behind them, trapping the two in a space only a few feet deep.

“The walls are sound-proof. You have privacy now,” the voice said. Rain noticed a small grate in the floor- only wide enough to allow whatever attendant was stationed below to see if anyone was in the path of the wall. After the voice spoke, a bit of metal slid over the grate, sealing it off.

“Are you excited?” Payu asked as they waited.

A soft grin tugged at Rain’s lips, even though his stomach was churning, “It never gets easier.” This was their third time attending.

“If you don’t want to do this-”

“I do,” Rain said quickly. “Just nervous.”

From ahead, Rain heard the fast scraping of wood. They waited until the wall before them was completely pulled aside to reveal another small, empty space. Payu and Rain stepped forward, and the wall closed again.

Bit by bit, minute by minute, they shuffled forward as the walls allowed. Sometimes there was hardly any wait at all, and sometimes it took a few minutes. The longer the wait, the more excited and nervous Rain became.

Eventually, the wall to Rain’s right slid open to reveal a waiting room with several lockers and a door leading to a bathroom. The lockers were tall, and numbered from 30-39. A small silver basket sat along the wall that was open to admit Payu and Rain into the space. When the wall slid shut, a key labeled “38” slid down from a chute into the basket.

Payu picked up the key, “Claim number thirty-eight.” He went to the corresponding locker and opened it.

Rain began removing his suit jacket as Payu pulled out a hanger to pass back to him. He hung his jacket up and- with some hesitation- began removing his shirt and pants as Payu did the same beside him.

Folded neatly in the closet were two nondescript black robes, one for each man. Rain grabbed his and went to the attached bathroom to clean and prepare for what was coming, while Payu took his time swapping his formal pants for a loose pair of black linen ones. Rain returned about ten minutes later to find Payu doing push-ups, making his muscles stand out.

“Tease,” Payu actually said it to Rain, as the boy had left his robe loose around his shoulders, showing off his clavicle.

“What are you going to do about it?” Rain threw some attitude at Payu, provoking him and easing some of his own anxiety at the same time.

A dark humor lit Payu’s eyes as he reached into the pocket of his hanging jacket and pulled out two scraps of black silk- twin masks. He stepped behind Rain and slid one on to cover the boy’s eyes. There were two holes in the mask to see through- it was only designed to cover the upper half of the face. Rain’s eyes were locked on his as Payu stood behind the boy, the two watching each other in a mirror while Payu adjusted it so Rain’s hair was tidy.

When he was done, Rain performed the same service for his partner, heart pounding in his ears.

“We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Rain let Payu grab his chin and force him to look up after he had finished. Payu’s whispered words gave Rain a chance to breathe. He nodded, and Payu pulled Rain against his chest. The tall man’s heart was beating just as hard.

“You too. You have to be comfortable too,” Rain said.

Payu flashed a grin, “It isn’t my birthday.”

“P’Payu!”

His boyfriend chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair, “Don’t worry. I know how to speak. I want to show you off.”

Rain’s face heated at the words.

How would he have the courage to-

Rain took the key from Payu and quickly locked the door of their locker before he lost his courage.

“Come on, the next people might be waiting.”

Rain pulled Payu’s arm to a black panel at the far end of the room and knocked twice. It slid aside, and the pair walked forward through two sections before they were stopped by another wooden wall. The path closed behind them, and Rain knew that somewhere, a door was sliding open to admit the next person assigned to the same dressing room.

“I hope there are still good seats available,” Rain said as they waited.

“I’m sure there are plenty. We haven’t had a bad view yet. Do you want to sit in the front or back this time?”

“Middle.”

“A black booth?” Payu raised an eyebrow to confirm it once again.

“A red one,” Rain said after a deep breath. “No more arguing… unless-”

“No more arguing,” Payu did not accept the out that Rain was offering him.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Payu wrapped an arm around his adorable little boyfriend and squeezed Rain’s hip.

They moved forward section by section, much faster than before, until they stood on the landing of a black staircase. An attendant in a white wooden mask that obscured their entire face- save for a slit to see through- waved their hand across a display of mannequin heads with silk masks in various colors, materials, and with different degrees of coverage.

Neat labels proclaimed the meaning of each color:

Black for couples who do not wish to interact with others.

Red for someone willing to be shared with a woman.

Green for someone willing to be shared with a man.

Purple for someone willing to take another partner of any gender.

“We will use our own,” Payu tapped his mask. He and Rain had discussed the matter at great length- neither had any desire to use another color under any circumstances. Both were fiercely jealous of their boyfriend, and both would not tolerate any sharing, nor did they want to be shared.

The attendant bowed his head again, and waved them towards the spiral staircase.

They went down beyond the basement of the theater, until they came to a rich, carpeted landing and another black door in the wall. There were a series of scanners the pair had to pass through one at a time- intense devices looking for any electronics the two might be trying to smuggle in.

Pakin’s guarantee was discretion. No one was allowed so much as a fitness watch. Cell phones were absolutely banned. Even a simple notebook and piece of charcoal would be confiscated.

Finally, at long last, Rain and Payu stepped forward to the ornate black doors of the club.

Pakin was willing to legitimize himself with the magnificent theater above, but below, they passed into the territory of his friend Sin.

The richest man in all of Thailand, and owner of just about every club in Bangkok.

A black curtain separated them from the club, but at the far end of the hall they could hear the din of idle conversation and light music. A woman stood in front of them at a booth, a wooden mask covering her face just as it had the attendant above.

“What color and size table would you like?”

“Table for two, mid-way up, and red, if there are any still available,” Rain answered before Payu for the first time in all of their visits. He was declaring his position firmly.

“Of course, please follow me,” she bowed and pulled aside the curtain.

They were in a large, clean room with dim lights and steep amphitheater seating that surrounded a simple, well-lit stage. Black accented with silver gilded the room, giving everything an air of elegance and seduction. Each booth had backs high enough to hide anyone inside, with gauze curtains that could be drawn to keep the inhabitants from the view of those across the room without blocking view of what happened below.

Every single person in this room was a celebrity, politician, businessperson, or the child of one. A single photograph, no matter how blurry, just to prove this place existed would sell for millions of baht- but if anyone tried, the guards stationed around the room would make sure that person was never seen again.

Pakin had explained the rules of this place to Payu and Rain as a way to assure them of the discretion offered… But it gave Rain nightmares for weeks.

If breaking into the races was dangerous, breaking in here was a guaranteed death.

The attendant led them through a small maze of seating options and down two steep pairs of steps before stopping in front of a candle-lit circular booth. A cloth of red lace covered the entire top of the table, and a high marble wall (capped in red) curved behind the chairs, affording some additional privacy.

“Does this meet with your approval?” the attendant asked.

Rain and Payu eyed the stage- fairly close, but they wouldn’t be illuminated by the light spilling from it. Payu read the young man’s face before nodding, “It’s fine.”

“Here are your menus, a waiter will be around in a few moments,” the attendant waited until Rain and Payu were seated side by side at the back of the booth before handing them each a leather-bound booklet.

“Please wait until after the performance begins to use the restrooms, out of respect for entering parties.” With that, she opened a panel on the wall that surrounded the back half of their booth and pulled an opaque curtain to completely block the pair from view. Those curtains would be retracted automatically once it was time to begin.

“Do you want to order any food?” Payu raised his hand to allow Rain to curl into his side.

“The chocolate-strawberry fondue? For after?”

Payu nodded, “That did look good. I think you spent more time staring at the strawberries the waiters were passing with than watching the show itself. Sounds fine- let’s try it.”

“What are you drinking this time?” Rain looked down at the alcohol list. There were several items exclusive to this secret club, something Payu had explained to him Sin liked to do. The exclusive menus drove hardcore patrons from club to club, just to try them all.

“I keep saying I’ll try the blue one, but the atmosphere is perfect for wine.”

“What if I get the blue one and you can have a taste?” Rain didn’t want anything too strong. The waiters here were strict, and he wasn’t confident he could hold his liquor enough. Anyone more than buzzed was cut off- and the threshold was lower for those who wanted a red booth.

“Deal.”

Couples or groups of people entered the room bit by bit over the next half hour. It took time to fill the space- why Rain and Payu weren’t worried about arriving too early. Each step in the entrance process relied on the area before emptying. Every time Payu and Rain had stepped forward in the hall of moving walls, it was a sign that another group of people had advanced.

Everything was done for the privacy of the guests. There were even two separate entrances to the underground theater- fed by the two ground-floor coat rooms.

“Permission to enter?” a man’s voice asked.

“Granted,” Payu said.

Their waiter felt for the seam in the curtain before stepping into their private area. He, too, was fully masked, “Would you like to place an order?”

Payu glanced at the menu again, “We’ll do the chocolate and strawberry fondue after we are finished. I will have the Exclusive Legacy Red, and my boyfriend wanted the Midnight Kiss cocktail.”

“I will put those orders in right away,” the waiter scribbled their orders on a piece of paper. “You are sitting at a red table, that means you are willing to perform for a maximum of twenty minutes in tonight’s display. Do you consent to this?”

“I do,” Payu reached out as the waiter produced a small device, scanning his fingerprint to mark his consent.

“And you, sir?” The waiter turned to Rain, who nodded. “I apologize, but you must give clear, verbal confirmation.”

“Yes, sorry, I consent,” Rain said, then allowed the man to scan his fingerprint. Those records would be tied to the table itself, not their names, and in a system not connected to the internet. It was a security measure, in case anyone claimed consent checks were not given.

The waiter smiled and put the small device in his apron, then pulled out a breathalyzer machine, “We require confirmation of sobriety at all times. Blood alcohol levels are restricted to 0.04 in order to perform, and 0.08 is the maximum limit.”

Both men proved their sobriety.

“You are wearing black masks, which means you are not allowed to approach other guests, and they will not be allowed to approach you. If you would like to change this at any time, you may call me. So long as no other patrons are on the staircase at that time, you will be led back to the mask seller you passed on the way in. He will turn his back as you change your masks- you are guaranteed full autonomy at all times.”

Rain and Payu nodded along. They were given the rules at every “show”, but didn’t mind the repetition. It helped calm Rain down, knowing how seriously Pakin and Sin’s men took privacy and security.

“Performance order is assigned at random, and each number is called only twice before we move on. If you miss your number for whatever reason, you will have a second chance to perform, time willing. Emergency exits and general restrooms are located on both the north and south ends. In the unlikely event of an emergency, you will be given street clothes. Your key number, please?”

“Thirty-eight,” Rain said, and the waiter checked a plastic card.

“Key thirty-eight ties to passes distributed by Vendor A. Again, though an emergency is highly unlikely, if one does occur, your vendor will contact you with instructions as to the location you may retrieve your belongings from. Present the key to claim your belongings.”

The waiter took a deep breath and laughed brightly, the end of the safety briefing. “For your performance, would you like any particular setup? We can offer a pedestal, chair, bed, or I can bring a menu of restraining devices and toys.”

Rain looked to Payu. Payu shrugged, “Birthday boy’s choice.”

“P-pedestal,” Rain said. “And ties?”

“Silk, leather, or metal?”

Payu wasn’t allowed to answer- on the one who would be wearing the ties had a say in the type.

“Silk, please.”

Payu flipped open the menu and went to the back page, which had nothing to do with drinks, “And we’ll use this brand of lube,” he pointed to one that would warm Rain from the inside out. “We will split delivery.”

The waiter wrote it all down before bowing, “Final reminder- anyone wearing a white mask like this-” he gestured to his own, “-is here to help facilitate your night. We are not permitted to touch you in any way, and cannot be touched. Penalty for breaking this rule is immediate detainment by our security partner and expulsion from the club. Alcohol and drug abuses are penalized with maximum severity.”

“Understood,” Payu said. The club was high-end. Tickets were only granted to those whose behavior the trusted vendors could personally vouch for.

As for them, well, if there was any emergency, as the man had said, the lockers would be emptied. The place all possessions would be sent- in nondescript boxes- was none other than Payu’s garage. A place wealthy and powerful people in expensive cars would not be noticed one bit. The cars would arrive, the key placed in a passenger seat, and when they were ready for pickup their box would be in the back seat.

In exchange for agreeing to serve this role for Pakin and Sin’s club, Payu and Rain were guaranteed two tickets per month.

Pakin first approached Payu about the deal a year before, while Rain was out with Graph and Sky. Payu had no concerns about serving as an emergency point for the club, and Pakin already knew his discretion was iron-clad.

Payu told Rain about the arrangement, and it took a year for the pair to work up the nerve to come to a place like this…

A sex club. The kind where the patrons could be part of the display. Where they could live out their deepest and darkest fetishes before an audience that does not judge, that only enjoys. Every week there were different themes to the shows, different kinks or fetishes allowed. Rain and Payu discussed their limits carefully before settling on the most basic of the attendance options- bondage and lighter fare. Nothing that might frighten or disturb the two, not one of the nights that would involve faux screams of fear or pain. They left those nights for the ones who would enjoy them- and they were among the most well attended nights.

There were things that Rain and Payu enjoyed in the bedroom that they had no interest in seeing others indulge in.

“I hope we don’t get anything lower than fourth,” Rain said after a while. He needed time to build up to it. “What is your maximum?”

“Not last. The mood is annoying- everyone is more worried about how high they can get in the exit line and people get testy.”

Not something they would have to worry about today. The ones who perform have priority to leave early, so that they don’t have to worry about anyone watching for their exit through a coat return. Rain and Payu deliberately wore suits a bit too big for their frames, harder to recognize a body type.

“Permission to enter?” their waiter returned in short order.

“Granted,” Rain called this time.

Someone pulled aside the curtain to allow their waiter to enter with a large tray. He set out a tall glass of red wine and a flute of cloudy silver-blue liquor that shimmered and swirled.

“The other half of your order will be provided during your turn,” the waiter said as he set a small phial of rose-colored lube on the table. Payu had ordered it split, meaning he wanted half in advance to prepare Rain.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“This is fine for now,” Payu said.

“Yes, sir. You have been assigned fourth in performance order, but may trade for a later time if desired.”

“Fourth is perfect,” Rain had secretly been hoping for that number. It gave them enough time to settle in, but not so much time that they couldn’t enjoy the rest of the night for nerves.

“I will come to remind you before the third performance, to give you an opportunity to prepare. If you need anything before then, simply blow out the candle on your table, and I will return.”

With that, the curtain closed once again.

Rain’s heart was hammering in his chest as they settled in completely. He picked up his drink and held it up to Payu, offering a taste, as promised.

Payu took a sip, then made a face, “Too sweet for me, but you’ll like it.”

A crust of blue sugar topped the rim, but even though the venue had their own surly take on it, the drink was still a campaign cocktail at its core. Rain found it more sour than sweet as Payu had said, but it reminded him of candy.

Neither drank much of their chosen beverage. Both of them were nervous about what they had signed up for… having sex… with an audience watching.

In his younger days, Payu had participated in the occasional… well, he supposed it’d be called an orgy. He only ever focused on one partner, but in a room filled with sex. It didn’t bother him, but he was never the center of attention the way they would be tonight.

And the idea of those eyes on Rain’s body, people coveting his boyfriend… It made Payu wildly jealous in a way that made him nervous… but excited.

Neither could predict what it would be like, but both wanted to find out.

The music shifted and the low din of the room vanished. A bell chimed and the opaque curtains withdrew into the sides of the booth, leaving only the gauzy layer for those who had pulled it out themselves. Rain and Payu had left theirs alone, and so they had an unobstructed view.

Instinctively, all eyes scanned for what red tables they could see- hungry guests wanting to know who would be setting the mood of the evening.

Rain glanced around the room. The quantity of red tables changed in accordance with the length of the show being performed in the opera theater above. There were a few groups, but most of the night’s acts would be duos- with a healthy mix of same and mixed sex couples.

“Welcome patrons,” a woman in a long black dress and white mask stood upon the stage. She was playing the role of facilitator for the night. “The opera this evening has an estimated run time of three hours and twenty minutes, including intermission. As always, our show is timed to match. Performers, when you hear this sound-” a high, clear bell rang from above,”- know you have five minutes remaining. This-” the stage lights flashed, “-means you have one minute.”

She clapped her hands once more, “First performers, raise your candle if you wish to accept your time.” Everyone scanned the crowd, looking for the required sign. After a moment, a cheer went up from the far side of the room- a black-masked man and a smaller, purple-masked woman stood up. The man had black satin boxers on, and the woman wore a simple black slip.

Rain leaned forward to watch as they stepped down to the stage. The woman was shy, but no more so than Rain thought he’d be if he were given the first time slot. Her companion led her to the edge of the stage and gave her a deep, claiming kiss before pushing aside the straps of her slip and letting it fall, exposing her naked body to the room.

There were no loud cheers this time- but a wave of sighs or murmurs of appreciation for her body.

A round section of the stage rose from the rest, and Rain found himself grin with anticipation. The platform meant that either a chair or table was being brought out- or maybe a standing restraint of some kind.

Two attendants carried a chair out a moment later, and quickly bolted it to the stage for safety. The man said something to the hostess before leading his partner to the contraption. Their twenty minutes wouldn’t start until the hostess left the stage.

“Our performers invite audience participation of any gender. Regardless of table color, those in red, green, or purple masks may join in, but you will not be permitted into the recovery room. As always, we respect the boundaries set by the performers. No penetration of any kind- oral, digital, or phallic- of the performers mouth or anus. Participants who are capable are encouraged to climax inside our performer as many times as they wish. All participants must be finished and leave the stage by the five minute bell.”

While the announcement was made, the music shifted to a slow, deep tune to match the energy below.

The chair was a seat with arms and legs on separate mechanisms that could be adjusted and locked whenever the user desired. Only a very thin bench at the back provided traditional support, leaving the woman’s freshly-shaved hole on display.

Payu reached over and pulled at the belt of Rain’s robe as the woman helped her partner tie silk restraints around her ankles, binding her to the chair. He was finishing up the wrists when the first couple members of the audience- a man and a woman- approached the corner of the stage. They waited, the man stroking himself, as the performer’s arms were tied to the chair and angled away from her body, her legs lifted and separated as far as she could go.

The circular portion of the stage began to rotate and Rain reached over to touch Payu’s bare chest. Neither took their eyes off the display below as the woman’s partner stepped behind her and casually draped his arms over her chest. He ran his fingertips along her torso and nodded to the man, inviting him to approach.

Rain slid his hand down Payu’s front and into the band of his pants as the woman trembled in both anticipation and fear. The man hesitated, but this time it was the woman who beckoned him forward as best she could with her arms bound.

He stepped between her legs and Payu’s hand slid the fabric of Rain’s robe out of the way. Rain withdrew his own hand and slid out of his underwear, allowing Payu to take hold of his half-awake dragon. Rain returned to Payu’s son, wrapping his small hand around the large length.

The whole room seemed to hold their breath as the music swirled- expertly matching the pace of what was happening on the stage.

At the first nudge of the man’s cock against the woman, Rain squeezed Payu’s member. When the man on stage slid into her and she cried out in pleasure, Payu began to stroke his boy in time with the thrusts.

The woman on the stage arched her back and the man holding her licked his lips as he watched her split around the stranger between her legs. The stage rotated just fast enough to provide everyone with ample view as he began to thrust into her. Her man wore a black mask- meaning he was limited in what he could do during the performance. He could only touch her, no one else, and he reached up to pinch and lightly twist her nipples while she writhed.

Another man stepped in line behind the still-waiting woman at the side of the stage, who was fingering herself watching the show up close.

Rain rotated his hips to match the woman, while his hand mirrored the man’s thrusts. Neither Rain nor Payu had any intention to let each other climax, but they could tease and play with each other until it was their turn. It was easier to lose themselves in the show than drink their beverages to get past the nerves.

Rain’s heart raced and his ears filled with the gasps and cries of the woman, tuning out the music entirely. The man seized up and he cried out as he spilled himself inside her. The woman’s back arched and her toes curled in pleasure. Her partner’s gaze was heavily lidded as the man staggered back, taking a few drops of seed with him. The woman who had been waiting came up immediately to fill his vacancy.

She dropped to her knees and immediately shoved her tongue into the woman. The bound one cried and pulled against her bonds, trying to either grind herself against the woman’s face, or escape overwhelming stimulation. But this was what she signed up for and requested, unless he used a safe word, this was all part of her entertainment.

Rain’s mouth watered as he stroked just the head of Payu’s cock. He breathed against the intense sensations and willed himself to wait. Rain was making it hard for Payu to endure, so he returned the favor by pouring the phial of lube onto his hand and pushing Rain to lean his chest against the table, giving Payu room to slide a finger inside him.

Rain gasped and hunched forward, his grip becoming erratic as Payu stroked from the inside.

The woman didn’t remain on stage for long. The bound one was shaking in her man’s grasp as she came, and the visiting woman took that as her sign to leave. Before the woman’s climax had ended, another man was already in place, shoving himself inside her.

Her screams almost sent Rain over the edge. She grabbed Payu’s hand and stopped him from moving, even as Rain’s own hand stilled on Payu’s dick. Not yet. He didn’t want to come yet.

The man spilled himself inside the woman before glancing back at the corner of the stage. No one had stepped up yet- not unusual for the first performance of the evening. He grinned and slammed back into her, making her arch her back and cry out against the feeling in her hypersensitive core. The man looked to her as his thrusts grew slower, more gentle. She nodded that she was alright and he picked the pace back up.

This one liked being treated like a toy.

Another man stood up and came to the front to give her what she wanted when this partner finished his second round.

The woman on stage came hard at the second load released into her body. The chair was rotated to just the right position as he pulled out- Payu and Rain both sighed at the creamy mess between her legs. The woman hardly remembered to breathe in anticipation of the next man who stepped up- he was larger than either of his predecessors.

On the chair, the woman frantically nodded and licked her lips as he approached. She struggled against her bonds, shaking. Payu could see her mouth moving as she panted the words over and over again, “Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me.” Her hips rolled as if she was already fucking him.

The others took her roughly, but this one slid in slowly to defy her command. Her screams as he filled her were glorious, and Payu heard more than a few similar cries around them as men or women came with her. The man who stood behind his partner on stage moaned and licked his lips. He still held her torso, and seemed to be shoving her down onto the cock harder and faster.

The large man reached between her legs and started playing with her clit as he planted his feet and pounded her hard enough to bruise. Her partner’s eyes were nearly manic as she thrashed. Her fingers and toes splayed, shaking violently as her back arched and she came with her loudest scream yet.

At the peak of her climax, her eyes rolled back into her head.

Rain rolled his hips against Payu’s fingers, no longer caring if he came or not. The penetrating man didn’t relent as the woman passed out. He kept thrusting with everything he had.

Small sounds began escaping her lips in time with the thrusting cock as she revived. Her head shifted from side to side as she gradually became aware of herself, at what was happening to her body. Rain knew that delicious fog very well- Payu was a master of creating it.

The five-minute bell rang out above and her man, caught as he was in his lust, said something to the other. The man thrusting into the girl nodded and closed his eyes, redoubling his efforts. His panting became deep and edged with moans until he seized and slammed into her a couple more times. He staggered back until just the tip of his dick was inside her and furiously stroked the rest, pumping in every last drop he could give.

He fell back away from her entirely after a moment, dazed by the ferocity of his orgasm. No one stepped up to take his place- but that wasn’t what her partner had in mind. As the man walked away from the stage and back to his booth, her partner fell to his knees between her legs. Without a moment’s hesitation, he began to lick away the seed of the other men that dripped from inside her. He stroked himself through the fabric of the pants, but made no move to shove them off and have his own turn.

The man who filled her last watched from halfway up the steps with a grin on his face as he slowly returned to his table. His partner- also male- greeted him with a fierce kiss before sliding out of his seat to provide an oral cleaning as well.

Rain was stroking Payu furiously as he watched the man on stage clean his woman as thoroughly as possible. At one point, her eyes half-opened and she watched him with a faint smile. The lights flashed- one minute left. She certainly wouldn’t be able to cum again for a while, but her man raced the clock as his tongue probed deeper, seeking as much semen as he could find. Reveling in the feeling of the entire room knowing how proud he was to be the one to lick his woman clean.

The stage went dark, and the audience broke out in enthusiastic applause as attendants came to help untie the woman. Her partner carried her off to the recovery room, and the din of conversation filled the air while the stage was cleaned and re-set.

Rain shivered around Payu’s fingers and flashed his man an excited smile. Payu’s eyes were molten as he crushed Rain’s lips against his and gave him a fierce and hot kiss.

Rain almost wished they’d chosen the chair as well.

“Thank you to all who participated,” the hostess came back after the stage was clear. The raised circle slid back into place. “Second performers, raise your candle if you wish to accept your slot.”

“We’ll go later!” The breathy call came from the last man who had emptied himself inside the woman. His man was still on his knees with that impressive cock in his mouth.

The hostess bowed. “Third performers, raise your candle if you would like to accept your slot.”

Two men sitting on the far side of the stage smiled as they raised their candle. Both wore black masks- no audience participation. One man was huge and burly, the other petite with blonde hair tied slightly back. Attendants brought forward a long, solid table- the same pedestal Rain and Payu had requested.

Both men left their clothes behind at the booth. The blonde had a body made for magazine covers- thin and lithe with well defined muscles. The bigger man was lethal in his build, all hard muscle, with thick arms. He looked as if he could crush the man beside him with a single fist, and yet the hand on the blonde’s back was gentle.

It seemed like most of the room noticed the same feature at the same time, and there was a gasp as the lights shimmered on a set of three jewels embedded in the already impressively thick length of the big man.

Rain’s mouth fell open as he wondered what would drive a man to have his own part pierced like that. Surely that meant the big man would be taken by his small lover, right? It couldn’t feel good to push a pierced dick into a tight hole… right?

Lost in his own wonder, Rain didn’t notice Payu’s chuckle as he realized the couple on stage were a pair he was very familiar with.

He wouldn’t tell Rain that the man he was so hypnotized by was a man who terrified the boy in real life.

Chai and his husband Win deserved their autonomy.

Payu slid a third finger into Rain as the boy watched, mesmerized by the display in front of them. Win crawled onto the table, his hips raised and his chest resting against the cool wood as Chai slid behind him. Win’s ass was shiny and wet- he’d prepared in advance.

A small phial was brought up, and Chai poured it onto his hard length, stroking himself as he handed the phial back to the attendant, who quickly exited. Win was whimpering as Chai rested the head of his cock against Win’s hole and began to push.

The head slid in, and Chai pulled Win up slightly, enough so that Chai could gently kiss his back and murmur in his ear as he eased himself slowly into his husband.

Rain began to stroke Payu again when Chai kissed Win’s cheek and began to thrust his hips heavily but slowly.

“You will have your opportunity to perform next,” the waiter reappeared and spoke softly, to not disturb anyone around them. “Do you have any changes you wish to make at this time?”

“Do you want the chair instead?” Payu asked Rain. He shook his head and craned his neck to watch as Win cried out, begging Chai to go harder and faster.

“Pedestal is fine, thank you,” Payu submitted to the alcohol test once again, though he’d barely had half of his wine. Rain was so lost in the cries of the men below that Payu had to hook his fingers inside the boy and lift his arm sharply to get Rain’s attention. He looked to the waiter and Rain quickly blew into the tube, his ears turning bright red as he realized he was riding Payu’s hand with someone else standing there.

But… Rain didn’t stop.

The waiter checked their numbers, bowed, and disappeared once more.

On stage, the couple changed positions. Win was on his back, with Chai straddling one of his legs, the other held tight to Chai’s chest as his pierced cock slid as deep as it could go. The music played as the couple moaned and Chai licked the arch of Win’s foot.

Their performance wouldn’t be as unbridled as the first- they simply wanted to be watched.

Rain moaned as Payu’s fingers swirled inside him with renewed purpose. Payu watched the two men on stage even as he leaned over and whispered in Rain’s ear, “How rough do you want it?”

The boy bit his lip as he watched the erotic display on stage. The moaning was all around them as the audience was drawn in by the display of love and lust. It was fire to Rain’s blood. Their bodies were a perfect fit.

Rain’s body sank against Payu’s side as he looked briefly up at his hubby and whispered, “Daddy.”

Payu thrust his fingers into Rain hard enough that his palm clapped against the boy’s butt. Rain whimpered and clenched down hard on the fingers.

“Rough it is, naughty boy,” Payu hissed. Rain knew he had to be punished for that, but it was a punishment both of them enjoyed.

Payu monitored Rain’s body carefully, never letting him get too close to the edge. Rain gasped as Chai and Win came simultaneously. Chai pulled Win up to sit on his lap and held him tight, feeding his husband gentle kisses to his cheeks and neck as Win gasped for air and rested his head against Chai’s shoulder.

After a few moments, when the five minute bell chimed, Chai raised a hand to the hostess and slid himself from Win, carrying the shivering man off the stage.

The lights dimmed, and Payu pulled his fingers from Rain as the stage was cleaned. He slid his long, loose pants down and folded them, along with Rain’s robe and underwear. They were placed neatly on top of the table, a sign to their waiter.

“Are you ready?” Payu whispered in Rain’s ear. The boy was shaking in an instant, but he nodded.

“Fourth performers, raise your candle if you wish to accept your slot.”

Payu looked at Rain for a moment before raising their candle.

Anyone could see that Rain was scared as they stepped out of the booth, Payu gently guiding the boy along. Rain held his hands tight over his crotch, his entire body bright red.

As they walked down, Payu noticed the man and woman from the first performance returning to their booth. The woman had her slip on once more, and she was walking slowly with the help of her partner. He nuzzled her with a proud smile on his face.

A few others noticed the returning pair, and began to applaud. Those without the hands to spare stomped their feet or pounded on the table. The woman blushed and curtsied slightly, wincing at the motion. There were four small bouquets of flowers waiting at the table- a traditional thanks from those in the audience who had participated. The large male who had taken her last raised a glass to toast her as she passed, and they shared a smile.

As Rain and Payu entered the pool of light and more noticed Rain’s shyness, the applause grew again, encouraging him. Payu looked at the shivering boy and opened his arms, allowing Rain to bury his face in Payu’s chest. The aggressively cute display earned them louder applause.

Payu was confident in his own body, he wasn’t one to shy away, but Rain… Well, he was on the smaller side, and he was shy about his little dragon.

Even while holding Rain, Payu walked them to the table at the center of the stage, where loops of black satin ties had been attached already.

“Close your eyes,” Payu whispered in Rain’s ear, and the little one obeyed. “Good boy,” Payu kissed his forehead before lifting Rain onto the table.

Rain’s eyes were tightly shut as Payu laid him face-down and proceeded to tie the boy’s ankles apart. He unhooked a wrist tie from the top and tied Rain’s hands behind his back. Rain shivered and whimpered with fear as he was exposed to the audience, his head turning as if he was desperate to hide.

But the audience was warm and supportive. They saw Rain’s obvious fear and began to clap for him again. There were even some cries of “Adorable”, and “Cute” from more outgoing patrons.

Payu left Rain to say something to the hostess, who nodded.

“Today is a very special day,” she announced as Payu accepted the other small phial of lubricant from an attendant. “A certain someone came to celebrate his birthday”

The applause briefly flared as the waiting audience cheered Rain’s birthday.

“Show them how good you are,” Payu whispered in Rain’s ear as he stepped onto the low table and positioned himself in front of Rain’s mouth.

Rain was talented with his mouth, and Payu wanted the entire room to know it.

Fear and excitement sent a thrill through Rain. He couldn’t grasp Payu’s length with his hands bound, but he started at the bottom of the cock, tracing the flesh with the tip of his tongue as Payu’s hand found its way down towards Rain’s rear, his fingers adding more lubricant to his back hole. When Rain’s mouth reached the cockhead, he scraped his teeth along the aching, sensitive flesh just hard enough to draw a warning hiss from Payu.

Rain worked it from each side- running his head along the edge of the member as he worked up the courage to open his eyes though the mask and see the crowd. Rain heard himself moan as he accidentally made eye contact with someone and realized the man was staring back at him, not at the fingers Payu was sliding in and out of Rain’s hole, but the half-obscured face of the boy licking Payu.

When Rain took Payu’s full length in his throat on the first try without gagging, there was a chorus of appreciative murmurs from the crowd. Payu was impressive, anyone could see that, and it took real talent to be able to accommodate his length. Payu stopped fingering Rain to give the audience a good view as Rain pressed far enough for his nose to touch Payu’s abdomen before he leaned back and gasped for air.

Payu was salty and sweet from tip to base- largely thanks to Rain’s stroking as they watched the earlier performers. Rain mixed slight bobs of his head with deeper dives as Payu grabbed his shoulders and tried to resist thrusting into the hot mouth.

He didn’t give Rain long to play, just enough time to get accustomed to being on the stage. They only had twenty minutes after all, Rain could spend that time just tasting him.

As soon as he thought Rain was ready, he grabbed his chin and pulled the boy away, then walked behind him. There was a gasp from the audience as Payu slammed into Rain without any hesitation.

Well, they had sex in the shower as they got ready to come here, Rain was already pretty open for him.

Payu wrapped a hand around Rain’s throat and pulled the boy back against him, ignoring the wild scratching of Rain’s fingers against his stomach as Payu set a vicious pace. Rain’s body was on display for the entire room, with nothing to cover him. Payu rested a hand on the table behind him and made Rain lay against his chest, the boy’s legs held open by the straps on the table.

Rain gasped and his eyes flew open behind the mask as Payu pressed hard against that spot inside him. He couldn’t help but buck his hips to meet the relentless thrusting between his legs. Payu’s hand at this throat made Rain feel even more helpless to fight against the hard invasion in his ass.

He was terrified, he was excited, and his hole was hot where Payu stretched him.

Rain once again found himself looking at the audience. Locking eyes with random men and women. Crying out to them every time Payu thrust hard- showing them how good Payu’s cock felt inside him. Feeling their jealousy and desire washing over him.

Payu watched them too, but he ignored the ones who met his gaze. He wanted the ones whose eyes were locked on Rain. Who saw the petite man writhing and crying out on his cock. He wanted to see how badly they craved Rain’s body as they stroked themselves- men and women alike.

Only Payu could bring this out of him. Only Payu could own the beautiful and tempting body.

Payu growled as Rain tightened around his cock. Payu sat up so that his hand was free to hold Rain’s hips as he slammed into the boy, rotating his hips to stir himself deep inside as Rain screamed and came across the table. He wanted the room to know how good it felt inside Rain, and Payu threw his head back and opened his mouth wide as his thrusts became a bit slower and heavier. He wanted everyone to fantasize that Rain’s cries were for them, that they were the ones fucking that sweet, perfect little hole.

A man started to rise as if he were in a trance and his partner quickly grabbed his arm and yanked him down, “Black mask.” Payu laughed at the whispered warning.

They were all fucking Rain with their eyes and thoughts, but only Payu was allowed to touch him. He wanted them to lose control in their desire for the boy- and he wanted Rain to know- with all those eyes boring into him- that only Payu was allowed to make him feel so good.

Payu’s hand found its way between Rain’s legs as he picked up the pace again. Rain’s head lulled back until his watery eyes met Payu’s overwhelming and hypnotic gaze.

“Daddy,” Rain squeezed down hard on him, his entire body shaking as Payu stroked his cock and gave him a few slow, hard thrusts. “Please fill Nong’s little hole.”

Rain barely remembered to change the word, to avoid saying his own name.

Payu released Rain’s cock to pull at the binding on his wrists and release them, letting Rain reach back and pull Payu’s body into him as hard as he wanted. Cock and hand worked in tandem as Payu bit his shoulder and moved faster, all while holding Rain up and on display as he bounced back against his boyfriend.

Rain’s cries became more frequent and he felt his body tense again. Payu’s hand became a blur around his little cock, stroking it furiously.

There were some excited whispers as some of the crowd leaned in for a better view of the beautiful man being ruthlessly fucked. The bell rang above them, but that didn’t dampen the excitement at all. Payu knelt on the table between Rain’s legs, giving his boyfriend a bit more leverage to slam himself down onto Payu’s cock. Payu pushed himself harder and harder into Rain’s hole.

Rain locked eyes with a pair of red-masked men and bit his lip. They were stroking each other in time with Payu’s thrusts, one also fingering the other’s hole. Rain bit his lip and nodded to them, whimpering and crying out so they would know how good Payu felt inside him.

The nod was for Payu- a sign to give it everything he had. Payu focused more on hand than on cock, and pulled hard enough for Rain to feel a bit of pain. Rain watched the men, fighting his orgasm until one man, panting with his own pleasure, mouthed, ‘Come’.

Rain obeyed the stranger.

He screamed as he came again around Payu, harder than ever before. Hot, white ropes splattered across his chest and neck with the force of it. Payu didn’t stop his attack as Rain’s scream turned into a jagged gasp for air. He kept up the punishing pace, making it hard to tell if it was one long orgasm, or multiple dry orgasms after the initial spray.

Payu didn’t stop, not even as he began to come inside Rain. He filled him with rope after rope of seed, taking pleasure in the trembling, limp body that slumped against his chest when Rain collapsed.

The lights dimmed and Payu bit Rain’s shoulder hard, not really knowing why beyond that he needed to do it. One last claiming.

An attendant came to help untie Rain’s ankles from the table as Payu slid out of him and scooped his boy into his arms.

He staggered, his thighs weak, but did not accept help from the attendant in carrying Rain down from the stage and into a dark tunnel between two booths. Payu barely even heard the thunderous applause that followed them.

At the end of the hall was a door, opened by the attendant for them. No one followed Payu and Rain inside, no one was allowed.

They were alone in a large, clean bathing room. A table sat beside the door with their folded clothes on top- brought down by their waiter.

“Good boy,” Payu whispered in Rain’s ear as he set him down on a stone bench near the shower. He pulled the shower head down and turned on the warm water, using it to revive Rain and clean the cum from his chest and throat.

Rain made little cooing noises as he came around and felt Payu cleaning his body.

“You were perfect,” Payu whispered in Rain’s ear, planting kisses along his jaw and over the bite mark he’d left- a deeper one than he intended.

“I love you, P’Payu,” Rain murmured into his ear, earning him a kiss on the lips.

Once Rain and Payu had rinsed off, they helped each other over to a pile of fresh towels. They were still a bit sweaty and flushed, but the show was only beginning. Now that they’d completed their performance, they would be free to watch and play with each other without restraint. They weren’t done for the night, just resting.

Rain fell onto a low couch covered in clean towels and waited while Payu dried himself off. Once he pulled his loose pants back on, he came to sit by Rain’s feet and gently massaged his ankles where the ties had dug in.

“Do you want to go home?” Payu asked as Rain closed his eyes, exhausted.

“I’m fine, just catching my breath,” his entire body both ached and felt hungry for more. He needed Payu inside him again. Maybe not for an hour, but tonight. Payu was planning to buy a plug and keep filling Rain until the boy begged for mercy. A birthday present Rain very much desired.

Rain dragged Payu up to lay on top of him on the sofa.

“Order me a coffee?”

“Whatever you want.” Payu held his lover for a long time, until a knock at the door let them know they had been inside for thirty minutes, and it was time to change over the room for the next couple. There were two recovery rooms, so no one had to be too rushed.

Payu supported Rain as they walked back out into the club, where two women were on stage, each happily eating the other out. There was a wave of applause from those who noticed the cute little one and his handsome boyfriend returning to their seats.

As requested, a huge plate of perfectly red strawberries waited for them at their table, with three containers of molten chocolate- white, dark, and milk- suspended above candles.

And waiting for them, even though they didn’t allow anyone to join, were several small bundles of flowers. Tokens of appreciation from others in the room. Rain felt brave, and took his robe off while he was still standing, still visible. He adjusted his mask and slid into the booth, sitting on Payu’s lap this time.

By the time the final group of the night performed, the strawberries were long gone. Rain- a new crystal plug keeping Payu’s multiple releases inside him- was swallowing the final drops of Payu’s last orgasm of the night, his own cock long dormant.

When the performance ended and the opaque curtains were once again automatically drawn, Payu pulled Rain away and kissed his boyfriend deeply, sharing the taste and playing with his tongue for a while, until the waiter arrived to tell them it was their turn to leave.

It was time for the long walk back up to the locker room (where a page neatly attached to a frame on the locker door detailed talking points about the opera in case anyone asked), and then the two-by-two exodus into the theater itself.

Payu kissed Rain’s forehead in the privacy of the dressing room. He felt dark and deliciously depraved when everyone was watching, but now Payu felt his conscience returning bit by bit. Rain leaned back against Payu’s chest and looked up at him.

“When’s the next show?”

#payu #phayu #rain #love in the air #lita #love storm #fanfic #fanfiction #payu x rain #phayu x rain #watching #my writing #mine

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pheonixxfoxx · 5 months ago

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The Last Japan Box Of 2024!

This was precisely the very last Japan box of the year! 🎉 Hard to genuinely believe it's already 2025. Why must time fly?! 😞

While it was smaller than previous boxes, there were still some fantastic flashy gets inside! 💙

As always, Jiraiya was a "purr"-fect little helper gray potato! 😸

The card frame is, OMG!! 🙀 It adds considerably to the already sexy card! Undoubtedly a must have for the collection, the moment my eyes gazed upon its glory!

This little cutie is SO soft! 💙 I in fact have a second one on the way. As I naturally want to snuggle him so badly, but carefully keep the plush mint at the same time! The issue will be properly resolved in the next box.

What we have here is an extremely rare find and something that I never believed would be obtained! This notable figure was from a Shonen Jump contest back in 2009! I initially learned of this thanks to a Japan Mercari listing. There are three figures total and the seller wanted $350!! This was a price that couldn't be justified! Luckily, a set appeared on Yahoo Japan and I won!! 🎉

Buggy reminds me of something out of Super Mario here! 😸 Not sure if I will remove him from the protective plastic? Oh and he's magnetic! The other figures in the set are Luffy and Chopper. While Luffy has a home, Chopper will probably be listed on eBay or Mercari soon! 🤔

The can badge in the middle of the top row, Buggy's name is embossed! I truly love running my finger over the raised lettering. 😺 To be honest, a second for the collection wouldn't hurt! One for me to carefully touch and the other to remain mint!

Astonishingly this magnificent figure had yet to enter the collection! However, here he ultimately is in all his glory! 🙀 All thanks to Book Off listing him dirt cheap on Japan's Mercari! There is just one of the larger Buggy figures missing from the collection now. Which is of his Emperor look, fortunately his price has really dropped!

The calendar art of Buggy here is super sexy, unique and love! 🤤 I'm naturally delighted it's an image where he isn't being tortured! So tired of seeing art depicting that!! 😞

The gorgeous card on the left is part of an absolutely stunning fan made set, featuring various One Piece characters! 💙 💙

In this image we have the impressive back of the card; this is indeed a true labor of love to One Piece! ☺️

This is the last item from December's box! It's an old 2012 Jump Festa poster featuring my handsome man and his brother!

Absolutely, another autographed card! 😸 Though, here me out! The English version of this card hadn't graced the collection until now! Not only that, I really like how the card is presented. It was in a lot and the seller was kind enough to sell this separate! 💙 They even included the One Piece TCG Chinese promo for free! Such an incredible seller all the way around!

Once again, that gold pen! Not sure if anyone bothers following what I babble about here? I wanted to mention that Mike Mcfarland just under went surgery to have a tumor carefully removed from his brain! While the surgery was successful, his road to recovery is a long one.

This is shocking, words unfortunately escape me. 😿 Without Mike's distinctive voice, Buggy wouldn't be the clown I passionately love and adore. The one who undoubtedly saved my life and has kept me going! 💙 I sincerely wish him a rapid recovery, and hope to fulfill my dream of meeting him one day!

Last item of this long post, which is just a close-up of the Chinese anniversary card! 😸 The next post will show off some of my surprising card pulls from OP 09! Still waiting for the two boxes that I preodered! Needless too say, TCGDistrict has lost a loyal customer…😾

#collectibles #collection #my pocketbook weeps #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #captain buggy #one piece #that which i have obtained #card collecting #merchandise #grey potato

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kadavernagh · 1 month ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: A book store! PARTIES: Regan and Rosemary SUMMARY: When Rosemary and Regan spy and reach for the same book, who deserves it? May the bigger death stan win.

“No, I have informed you multiple times. It's called A Springtime of Septicemia. It's a rom— uh, study in septicemia. Very rigorous.” Regan watched the bookstore clerk’s expression shift between confusion, concern, and then a plastered on smile like she didn’t know how to deal with this particular customer and might discuss it with her manager. Regan’s optimism was quickly flattened. She couldn’t find this series in any local bookstore, and this one had been her last bet.

“Ma’am, we aren’t familiar with… that. We don’t have it. Maybe you should try the bookstore down the—”

“I did.” Did they think her incompetent?

“Then how about our true crime section?”

Regan just barely kept annoyance from flashing across her face. “It is not true crime. It’s a— a woman falls in love with a dying man and his infected wound. Incised, inflicted by her sister with a dagger. And the infection is medically accurate, by the way. How is this not standard issue?”

The clerk seemed speechless now, and had that look on her face like her eyes didn’t know where to land. They traced the edges of the room like she wanted to escape.

“Do not bother. I will attempt to locate it myself.” Regan abandoned the counter. She could do a much better job than the clerk. Maybe she should have worked here instead of at the Apple Store, but that was behind her now anyway. The sections were fairly basic: New Releases (she wasn’t ready for the new entry in the series yet), True Crime (foul, but…), Historical (not quite), Mayonnaise (not right now), and… Bizarre? What was that?

Regan decided to browse. Not that A Springtime of Septicemia was bizarre. But clearly this store’s sensibilities were warped to begin with. The shelves were lined with covers both lurid and faded; battered and brand new. She didn’t see anything from the Septicemia series, but— oh, what was that?

An attractive glossy black hardcover with embossed lettering: The Angel of Death. Regan pushed past a woman who also seemed to be perusing this section to grab the book that called to her. Actually, she was also reaching for the book with those slender, manicured fingers. They pulled it out together, and Regan was awed by the red-edged paper. It had been honored with a color. The book was respected. She didn’t even know what it was about, but she wanted it. Anything with death in the title surely belonged to her by right.

“Release my book.”

—

Rosemary was a woman on a mission.

One of her favorite authors had a new release out. Rosemary would have purchased the book regardless- with a title like Angel of Death, it was sure to be up her alley. She wondered if it was a bit too on the nose for a necromancer to say hell yeah, sign me up when she was presented with the opportunity to read about a sexy personification of death, but at the end of the day, it didn't matter if it was. The second she’d found out there was a limited edition of the book available with sprayed edges and different art on the dust jacket, she’d sprinted out of her house with wallet and keys in hand.

The witch was scanning the book shelves, searching high and low for Angel of Death. They couldn’t have possibly sold out already, could they? She vaguely registered another woman in the shop inquiring about a book (had she said the protagonist was in love with a wound?). She was too focused to really pay attention to the conversation.

Just when she was about to give up hope, there it was. It was as though the book shop gods had been waiting for that precise moment to reward her with her prize. She made a beeline for it, her hand outstretched to pluck it from the shelf. Her fingers closed around it and pulled it from the shelf, only for her to see another hand clutching to the other side of it.

Rosemary blinked, an eyebrow arching up onto her forehead. A please would have gone a long way, but that ship had sailed. “Um… you haven’t paid for it yet. It isn’t yours. It was still on the shelf.” Her fingers clutched tighter to the book. She did not want to have to hunt for this copy on the internet, where it would inevitably be marked up by some jerk who’d purchased multiple copies.

—

Regan stared at the blonde woman, her grip on the book tightening at the same time she felt the pressure of her opponent doing the same (yes, opponent, though not yet up the ranks with Pubik). But a wave of death surged from the book up Regan’s arm. The shock of it nearly made her forfeit her hold by mistake. Had that come from the book? No, no, it was around her, the woman. Regan could practically breathe it in, pulling the miasma into her lungs. It was the kind of death people carried — not their own imminent demise but the recent deaths of others marking their person. It often clouded around next of kin who didn’t realize they were carrying their grief literally and not only in the figurative way humans occasionally acknowledged.

The knowledge was important, but probably not useful. Now Regan knew two things about this woman: she might be in mourning, and she was not getting this book.

“I don’t see your name on it,” Regan protested, trying to remember if humans meant that exactly how it sounded when they said it. She’d cover her bases. “Not that mine is on it either. That would be biz—” Right, they were in the ‘bizarre’ section, “—Well, I suppose there might be a character named Regan, but I don’t know, because you will not simply let me read it.” Her fingers brushed against the red-edged pages as she gave the book another small tug. “It was waiting for me, not you.”

But, fine; this was clearly a professional standoff, and Regan could match this woman’s intensity. Al was practically her twin in both age and stubbornness, and the two of them had sometimes feuded for weeks. This was nothing. Just the butting of frontal bones.

“As someone who works intimately with death, I have the superior claim. I’m a medical examiner, you see.” She didn’t want to debate with herself about whether the banshee part was important. Medical examiner was enough. This book rightfully belonged to her.

“I will show you.” She managed to pry the woman’s fingers off just long enough to yank the book toward her, but she wasn’t going to run off with it. Instead (not wanting to waste time on admiration right now), she flipped the book open to a random page. She’d give a demonstration, show her expertise. Whatever this page would present her, she was sure to be an authority on the matter.

Regan cleared her throat and read aloud, tracing the words with a finger. “She had made love with many men over the years, but nothing could have prepared her for the way Angel’s immortal touch ignited every nerve ending. She gasped against him, his eyes limpid pools of desire. ‘Your pulse, it races,’ Angel purred, his fingers grazing the delicate hollow of her throat. ‘How brilliantly alive you are… for now.’”

Silence.

“Oh.” The syllable came out by itself. “I picked an unrepresentative passage, one moment.” Regan’s eyes scanned lower down the page, and she straightened her shoulders, ready to focus, as if she could will the words to be about sepsis or putrefaction.

Regan continued. “’Take me,’ she murmured to the Angel of Darkness, mere millimeters from the limpid pools of his eyes. ‘I surrender my mortal flesh to your eternal embrace. My life is yours.’”

Regan blinked. Okay, not what she had expected. Again. Her voice went quiet. “Why are his eyes so limpid?”

She could work with this though. And were those passages really so bad? Was it so wrong that, maybe, she wouldn’t mind reading more? She needed to know about his limpid eyes (a pathology no doubt), and whether the woman dies, and why does this ‘Angel’ believe himself qualified to be called the Angel of Death? So many open questions.

“As you can see,” Regan said, closing the book, forgetting that the blonde might still make a grab for it. “This is obviously about mortality. It warrants further study. Study only I can do. And I did say I work intimately with death. So does… the protagonist.”

–

Rosemary scowled, her mouth pursing as she fought to maintain her composure. It was just a book, it was just a book, it was just a book. But it was a limited edition book, and from the sound of it, the stranger she was playing tug of war with over the book hadn’t read any of the authors other works. “Exactly, your name isn’t on it, and I got here first. I came here specifically for this copy of the book. It’s a limited run with alternate cover art and I need it.”

She squawked indignantly as the woman- Regan, apparently- yanked the book from her hands and started to flip through the pages. Being a medical examiner gave her no more right to a book about a woman getting seduced by death than Rosemary had the right to every plant that shared the same name as her. That would be completely asinine. And more importantly, if proximity to death was the defining factor that judged whether or not they could own the book, she should win on the basis of being a necromancer. “Ok, medical examiner isn’t the only job that deals with the dead and dying. If that’s the argument you’re going with, I work at a nursing home where everyone is actively dying, or dies while I’m on shift. I have the local funeral home phone numbers committed to memory. I write obituaries for fun as a side hustle. If anything, we’re tied.”

While Rosemary was defending her honor, the woman found a passage to read from. The witch couldn’t even be mad that the book was being spoiled for her based on Regan’s reaction. This lady didn’t know what she was getting in to, did she? She tried not to snort when they decided the passage was unrepresentative of the rest of the incredibly smutty narrative and searched for another.

“Probably because the author didn’t want to write his eyes darkened to pools of ebony as he gazed reverently upon every inch of her exposed flesh because it’s overdone. Don’t get me wrong, I love an obviously horny his eyes blew wide line, but give a girl some variety would you?” She didn’t care if the question wasn’t meant for her- Rosemary had opinions, and if this woman didn’t know what this book was, she’d make damn sure she made it clear so she could get it for herself.

The woman closed the book, holding it in her hands loosely enough that Rosemary saw an opportunity. In a flash, she reached out and grabbed hold of the book once more. She attempted to dislodge it from Regan’s hands with a good yank. “It’s only about mortality in that she gets to fuck death. That’s literally the plot. Come on- this is a collectors edition. I collect these books. All her books- she literally did a whole series of stand alones where it’s just different cultures depictions of death or death based deities, and them seducing and falling desperately in love with the main character.”

The witch looked frantically at the book shelf for options to shove at the stranger so she could have the prize she’d come for. “Look- they have the limited run of Grimm’s Soul To Reap. Don’t you want to read about the sexy grim reaper coming to take Lorelei’s soul and becoming besotted with her on the way to the afterlife?”

—

Regan's grip tightened when the woman yanked at the book, but the fight was lost — she hadn’t anticipated the strike. True, it wasn’t a dead frog or squirrel bones being pulled out of her hands (try it), but it was still tangential to death, and Regan was not going to allow such an insult. How dare anyone try to take death from her? The woman thought… what? That she was permitted to do so because she worked at a nursing home? There was a trace of death on the blonde, the kind of light touch on someone who brushed against it each day, a residue people did not know they carried (it did not wash out like the actual scent of decomposition). This corroborated her story, but a human could never surpass Regan in this domain, even during the times Regan tried to forget she had anything differentiating her from others like this woman. She might have snorted in amusement (if Regan did such a thing, which she didn’t, obviously). “We are not tied. Our footing is not equal. I am lámh an bháis, the hand of death! If anything, this book is about me! It is only right that I have it.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, but the need to reassert herself won out over common sense.

Speaking of common sense, she wasn’t following what the blonde was saying. She had to admit that the woman seemed more well-versed in this, uh, literary genre than Regan was, sepsis series notwithstanding. “Eyes do not blow wide open unless there is force applied to them. I don’t understand what you are referring to.” She was not giving in, though. ‘Fucking death’ was an unusual choice to write about, but it was hardly foreign to Regan. Death was the constant companion of any banshee, with Fate completing the trilogy. Most banshees did not view death as merely some cold, clinical thing that happens. It was anthropomorphized, given pronouns, revered, prayed to, even. Of course some took it further. Of course Regan had always been curious in a healthy, completely normal way. Of course the room was heating up a little and there was no other reason for her blood to pump more quickly at the thought. “So that’s what this is about… embracing death.” Banshee depictions were always done with the utmost respect. Humans were less reliable. Her second thought was fast on the heels of the first (which was admittedly ongoing): she and Jade might actually enjoy something like this. Regan could see it now. Jade being confused for a moment, then curious, then she’d flash that smile that meant Regan had done the impossible and endeared herself even more to Jade, then they would have sex under the head of a dead deer mounted on the wall.

Regan reluctantly rocketed back to reality. “And you collect these. I see.” Intriguing, Regan had to admit. Did that mean she, too, did not see death as just a perfunctory end of life? The seed was planted in her mind that she might have written the woman off too quickly in the heat of competition (yes, that was the heat). Just the seed. Most seeds died. Still. “I did not know this existed here. My bone p— are they any good? These books, these depictions? What are the author’s credentials?” She grabbed for the book and noted the author’s name, which did not sound particularly Irish.

Regan kept an eye on the book as the woman was obviously trying to distract her with others. She knew it was a distraction. She did. But the mention of the Grim Reaper recalibrated her attention regardless. There were books about her? Grimm’s Soul to Reap was immediately disappointing, though. On the cover was a stereotypical reaper clothed in black and wielding a scythe. The confusion on her face quickly changed to offense. “That is not her. The author knows nothing. The Grim Reaper would kill whoever designed that… that thing.” She didn’t dare call it art. Somehow, she was worried Sadbh would hear her all the way from Saol Eile and turn up here with her dagger (never a scythe, point in fact). “I do not know a Lorelei, but Sadbh is too professional to even have conversational intercourse with the dying, let alone sexual intercourse.“ The possibility that the myth predated the banshee who claimed to be the Reaper didn’t cross Regan’s mind.

Regan gestured to the beautiful black volume with the red pages that the woman possessively held. She wasn’t able to just leave it be. “I need that one. Not one of these other… offensive caricatures. That one. From the pages alone I can tell that it is honored, worthy of the utmost care and respect. I have never seen that before, the red. It’s special. And the title… the subtle embossing, like the words themselves are shallow graves or skin sunken down to the bone.”

She couldn’t help but look longingly at the book, which really should have been in her hands. “Perhaps we could…” Regan hesitated, weighing what she was about to suggest and if she would really find it acceptable. She liked to think she was an excellent compromiser. “I will take that one, and you will have the others. One of the others. I will be investigating those, too, you see, so I cannot spare them all.” Okay, Jade had tried to teach her to be more flexible (in many ways). Regan huffed and tried again. “Fine. I take that one, you take… the others. And then we trade after reading.” And then trade back, but Regan left that part out of the negotiation for now. She’d share more when the book was back where it belonged: in her embrace.

—

Rosemary wasn’t entirely certain what language the title the woman gave herself was. Some sort of Gaelic- Scottish or Irish, perhaps? She supposed it was an apt title for a medical examiner. But wouldn’t the hand of death imply the woman who insisted the book was destined for her was responsible for the deaths she examined? Wouldn’t death’s overseer, or death’s handmaiden be more on the nose? More importantly, why didn’t Rosemary have a cool title. She’d have to fuss about with it later. Death’s adversary maybe. Or else death’s frenemy. Though, frenemy would be a bitch and a half to translate into Latin. “Okay, but what if you got the nice, not special edition copy of the same book? I’d happily buy it for you if you just let go of this edition and let me have it.”

The witch blinked in confusion. “What? No. Not actually blown open, oh my god. Exploding eyes is not sexy. Like, it’s just a flowery way to say their pupils widened, oh my god.” Rosemary shuddered at the image. She would not let this stranger ruin one of her favorite stupid overused romance novel terms for her. No, no, no, absolutely not. Though at least embracing death was polite way to describe it. “Yeah, sure. A very intimate, adult embrace with death.” The second she let her guard down a bit was the second the woman made a grab for her book again. She wasn’t sure what p word followed My bone. Of course that question was distracting enough for her to barely lose control of the situation- not that she’d had it to begin with. “If you like romance novels, they’re good. But if you’re looking for medically accurate or mythological sound depictions of death, they aren’t what you’re looking for. It’s fiction, and the authors take creative licenses to fit the story they’re telling, as is their job.”

There was a moment where Rosemary held out hope that just maybe she could sell the stranger on the other book. But of course the moment hope ballooned in her chest, the inaccuracies of the book were presented like a needle to make that balloon pop. “Like I said, it’s a romance novel. The authors aren’t looking to write something one hundred percent completely accurate- they’re looking to write a fun, sexy, romantic story. It’s not like the author could phone up the grim reaper and ask them what they’re into in the bedroom. And Lorelei is a fictional character! If you’re not looking for offensive caricatures of death and its associated deities, literally none of these books are for you. They all take artistic liberties that people looking for complete and total accuracy will not appreciate. Which is why I should take this off your hands because I just love artistic liberties. They’re my favorite! I wouldn’t want you to have a bad time with the book! It should go to a loving and appreciative home, don’t you think?” God, she sounded insane.

Rosemary contemplated the offer. It wasn’t a terrible idea. Though there was no guarantee the woman would keep her word, and even less of a guarantee to the condition she’d receive the book back in. But if it meant in the end she got the book… “I could consider this… if, I get to keep the book permanently when it’s my turn, so it can be a part of my collection. And if you find you like the genre, in exchange I’d be happy to let you borrow some of my other books so you don’t have to spend even more money to read them. What do you think?”

—

The non-special edition? How dare she? Why should she have second-best? Once glance at the regular version of the book told Regan all she needed to know. “That edition doesn’t have the red pages, making it a deficient substitute for the real thing. The blood gives it dignity, makes it clear that it’s above lesser books. I mean, the red.” She might have been a bit fixated on that detail. Now that she knew it was possible, she couldn’t imagine reading a book that wasn’t honored in that way.

This woman seemed to think Regan had a stick up her rectum (mercifully, she didn’t, but she had physically removed sticks from the rectums of others). She was willing to tolerate artistic liberty! There were parts of Grey’s Anatomy she didn’t record in her log of errors, things that she was willing to let slide and not write in about. And if someone wrote the onset of rigor being 30 minutes off, Regan was willing to offer clemency. A Springtime of Septicemia had no such errors, of course (except for book 38, where there was a mention of the sepsis smelling like chlorine, which made little sense; this was corrected next time the scent was mentioned). That was a romance, too. If you considered necrotizing tissue to be romantic, which Regan did.

Now who was being literal? “Of course the grim reaper can be contacted for her preferences. She is difficult to reach, I grant you, but I would expect an attempt if writing about her. Also, she uses a dagger, not a scythe.” Sadbh would probably be stoically furious with this portrayal, but that wasn’t Regan’s problem, not anymore. Wait, was she demonstrating the woman’s point, getting lost in these details? “Still, I should examine the book for myself. I will not jump to a conclusion. Besides, if there is merit to this title, which the red pages indicate is possible, then I can write to the author and correct the errors, so they may rescind the book and publish it with amendments.” Jade would love both reading the book with her and penning a letter to the author. Regan could almost hear her encouragement. She needed this book.

And yet, the offer of multiple other books in the woman’s collection gave Regan pause. It sounded like a thorough library. And Regan was curious. Whether she would like it and Jade would like it, yes, but also how death was portrayed in these novels. Did the author correctly capture what it was like to be so intimate with something most people feared more than anything? Did any of these? A Springtime of Septicemia only espoused that connection as being beautiful, being good. All of the characters intuitively understood this. It was normal.

But it was not normal.

One book might offer this to Regan. But multiple were even more likely. She made a decision. She had to look away from the red pages as if she were betraying them. “You may keep it, after I have done my thorough read. And I require enough time that I can copy the text on my own if desired. But I will be the judge of whether I approve of these or not. And then you lend me others from this collection of yours.” Not that she even knew what it meant to like something. That was still a work in progress. Regan narrowed her eyes at the implication she wouldn’t offer the book an appropriate home, but decided to let that one go for now. Her home could not be more appropriate.

She held her hand out, stretching her fingers (tense from the literal push and pull of the last several minutes), expecting the book to be relinquished.

—

Rosemary bit down a groan between teeth she forced into what she hoped was a smile and not a snarl. Snarling would get her nowhere and would probably make this person want to let her have the book even less. They seemed to know the worth of a sprayed edge on a book, at least, even if they had no real clue as to the content of the book.

As the other woman launched into a rant on the true nature (and availability for questioning) of the grim reaper, who was apparently a woman (a win for feminism!), Rosemary’s grin became a bit more genuine. She was proving her right- the stranger was so focused on the finer details of what she believed to be the true nature of the grim reaper, that she was subjecting a fictionalized accounting where the grim reaper was described as breathtakingly and fatally gorgeous. “I’m pretty sure the author won’t amend it if this version has made it to the best seller list after several rounds of edits and pass pages from their publisher. Which it has. Which is another reason why I want it.” The witch curled her fingers tighter against the book, willing the stranger to let her have it.

Rosemary narrowed her eyes. “When you say copy, do you mean by hand or by copy machine. Because by hand would take ages, and deprive me of reading time. I’d likely see a spoiler for the book somewhere in the time it took you to hand write every page of it. What if, instead of that, once you’ve finished reading the fancy sprayed edition, I buy you a normal paperback edition to mark up and annotate however you want?” She was willing to eat the cost of a paperback if it resulted in her getting to read her book faster.

—

…Was Regan so strange that this woman assumed she was going to copy the book over by hand, letter by painstaking letter? Surely Regan gave a more normal impression than that. Besides, Regan was an expert at copy machines! She used them all the time at the morgue, and then before that… yes, before that, too. No hospital or medical records system could escape the need for fax and copy machines, even in the year 2025. “I will have you know that I’m highly experienced in copy machines. I use them daily. They are a hobby. I could copy something with my eyes cl— well, nevermind, that risks getting the orientation wrong. The point is, I have a reliable copy machine and know how to use it, like anyone else you might have stolen a book from.”

Regan probably deserved that glower.

She shrugged, which was a gesture that had never looked good on her, and even less so now that she was trying to dissect and emulate human behavior. Every time it left her feeling like a mannequin of a ghost. “I don’t need to copy the whole book, anyway. Only passages. Parts that may require additional attention to detail, or that my bone partner may be intrigued by.” The offer to purchase a new copy was even better though, and Regan was not going to turn it away. It seemed like they finally reached an agreement. It only took… how long had they been here? Oh, two hours.

“Terms accepted.” She replied gravely. She took this seriously; she could hardly be jubilant about getting the book first when that was only the first phase of their agreement. “I take my copy here, you will receive it back when I am finished, and then you purchase a new edition for me as well as provide me with some of your collection, for temporary reading pleasure.” Cliodhna hissed in Regan’s ear. Every deal made was a potential trap for both herself and the other party. Regan wasn’t tying this in a geas, but she still felt the opportunity pass her by, and she wasn’t sure if it had her feeling like a banshee failure or a human one.

With everything said and done, Regan’s fingers itched to reclaim her coveted, red-edged book. She cradled it to her chest, breathing in the new paper smell (unfortunately, the publisher had not sprung for the putrescine-scented pages like many of Saol Eile’s books featured). It still felt right in her hands though. It better not disappoint, after all of this. Regan wasn’t sure how she would tell this woman if the book failed her, if it spat on everything death stood for. She only liked saying I told you so, not hearing it.

“I will be careful with it.” Regan assured the woman, then realized a moment later that a splash of decomposition fluid wasn’t out of the question. That was almost always an improvement though. “Perhaps I will even introduce you to some real literature, if I can find A Springtime of Septicemia. The employee here was useless. She did not even know what genre Darkly Everskull writes.” Regan gestured to the Bizarre sign. “Not that, obviously. We will convene after some time. I have… reading to do.”

Darkly Everskull’s sepsis romance could wait another day. For now, Regan was content to return home with her prize. There were decisions to make. Where would she and Jade read it? They didn’t have a mounted deer head over their own (yet), but perhaps in the garden, by some roadkill and tulips. No, no, the mood out there was wrong. Yet the bedroom was obvious, too obvious. Not special enough for such a hard-won embrace of death. A cemetery, yes. Eternal Light had never let them down (aside from the spirals of panic). That was it. By the blue glow of fungus, they would be intimate with death. And if the book was no good, well, there was always sepsis.

#c rosemary #writing

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ajqwrites · 1 month ago

Text

COD: Modern Warfare Reboot (Under Siege - Book 1)

Bouncing in his seat from the far end of the back seat, Soap chattered with Cam, who was seated beside him. Gaz, on the other end, joined in, but he was more content listening at their conversation.

John, gripping the steering wheel with one hand, focused on the road ahead. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror occasionally, watching his daughter—who was enjoying herself as Soap raved about some comic book storyline she was only half-following.

He had chosen the route specifically to make the most of her birthday. First, coffee, now this place, and then brunch before he had his own plans for the rest of the day—which involved seeing Charlie again. Which, he figures Soap wanted Cam for himself (and this is where he'll stop to the line since he doesn't need to know what Soap would want to surprise his little girl tonight).

From the passenger seat, Simon remained quiet, his elbow resting against the window, staring outside as if contemplating all his life choices that had led to this moment.

"Alright," John muttered, his deep and gruff voice cutting through the conversation as he pulled into a parking space, "we're here."

The truck rolled to a stop outside Forbidden Planet, one of the most well-known geek havens in London.

Soap launched himself out of the truck the moment the engine turned off, dragging Cam along with him as the others followed at a much more reasonable pace.

John slammed the door shut and adjusted his jacket, giving the storefront a once-over. The large windows gleamed with vibrant superhero figures, neatly stacked shelves of fiction books—Cam's favorite—and a vast selection of nerd culture merchandise.

For Cam, this was a dream.

For John? It looked like a bunch of random and colorful plastics.

Gaz let out a low whistle. "Damn, been a while since I've been here. Wonder what they've stocked up on."

Simon eyed the entire store with his usual blank stare before muttering, "Looks like a recruitment center for cults."

John smirked. He's not wrong.

Cam turned on her heel and threw her arms out as if she was welcoming them to an amusement park. "Gentlemen, prepare yourselves—you're about to enter paradise."

Soap lowered his head and bowed before her. "Lead the way, my queen. The nerd kingdom awaits."

John grunted as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

***

Inside, the store was a geek's dream—and a nightmare to non-geeks. Shelves buckled under the weight of graphic novels, action figures, and collectibles, while posters of iconic franchises plastered the walls. There were a lot of customers darting between aisles like wide-eyed kids in a candy store.

Gaz made a beeline for the comic book and collectibles section, while Cam veered straight toward the fantasy fiction section. As John followed at a much slower pace, hands in his front pockets, scanning the store with mild disinterest.

The moment Cam reached her destination, her face lit up.

She gasped, practically vibrating as she grabbed a leather-bound collector's edition of A Court of Thorns and Roses from the display.

"Oh my God," she breathed, turning to Soap with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning. "Look at this! Isn't it gorgeous?"

Soap, who had smiled at her of what she was holding, nodded instantly like a supportive partner. "Perfect, babe. I'll get it for you."

John hovered nearby, offering a faint (and fake) smile. "Good pick, Cami."

Her eyes sparkled as she held the book close to her chest like it was some holy artifact. She turned it over, admiring the embossed golden lettering on the cover and the intricate design.

"Sarah J. Maas never disappoints," she sighed happily, flipping through the gilded pages. "I've been collecting this series forever, and this edition is perfect to finish my collection."

John huffed. He has no idea what she was talking about. "Never got the appeal on fantasy books. Witches, fairies, and whatnot. Seems like a lot of fluff to me."

Cam turned to him, mock-offended. "Dad, do not disrespect the masterpiece that is Sarah J. Maas."

His brows lifted, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Didn't mean any offense, but how many books can one person read about magical kingdoms?"

Soap, already invested in the conversation, chuckled and nudged her. "He's just jealous he can't sit still long enough to read more than a mission brief."

"It's not just about magical kingdoms," Cam countered, clutching the book tighter. "It's got spice, too."

John blinked, unimpressed. "Spice? You mean, like, actual spice?"

Cam and Soap exchanged a look. The kind of look that immediately made John suspicious.

"Oh, it's more than just spice," Soap smirked.

John narrowed his eyes. "Explain."

Cam, looking far too smug, tapped the cover of her book. "Dad, 'spice' in fiction means detailed romantic scenes."

John frowned. "Like... kissing?"

Soap snorted. "Oh, way more than just kissin'."

His expression flattened. "Go on."

Soap grinned. "Alright, Cap'n, let's break it down real simple for you. Y'see, when a book's got 'spice,' it means the characters aren't just holding hands and whispering sweet nothings."

John tilted his head, waiting.

"They're getting to it," Soap said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Getting to what, MacTavish?" His patience thinned instantly.

Cam sighed dramatically, as if explaining the most obvious thing in the world. "Dad, it means they're having sex."

His brain short-circuited for a second she had explained. He stared at her, processing, before he frowned. "Why the hell do you call it 'spice'?"

"Because calling it 'graphic sex scenes' in casual conversation makes it sound weird," Cam said matter-of-factly.

Soap nodded in agreement. "Aye, 'spice' just makes it sound classier. Like, instead of sayin' 'this book is full of shaggin,' you say, 'this book has a touch of spice.'"

John shook his head and he couldn't believe what he was hearing this since the day he was born. "So instead of reading actual literature, you lot are just reading porn with plot."

Cam rolled her eyes. "It's romantic fantasy, Dad. It's about the story, the character development, and the journey."

Soap grinned. "And the smut."

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "So let me get this straight. You read books about magical kingdoms, winged men, and spice."

"Yep," Cam confirmed, holding her book close.

"And you enjoy this?"

"Love it," Cam said with zero shame.

John sighed deeply, looking to Soap as if he was the last sane man in the room. "And you?"

"Oh, I don't read them," Soap said, waving a hand. "I just hear about 'em 'cause Cami likes to narrate."

His eyes flicked to Cam, horrified. "You read these out loud?"

Soap grinned. "She does dramatic readings. Full voices an' everythin'."

John looked at his daughter like she was a stranger. "What—why?"

She shrugged. "Because it's fun. And Johnny likes it."

John turned to Soap. "Do you?"

Soap smirked. "I mean, yeah. Sometimes it's educational."

John stared at him.

Gaz, who had been silently listening this whole time, lost it.

"Educational?!" Gaz wheezed, gripping a shelf for support. "Last time I remember, we barely have resources about sex and the consequences when we were kids in school!"

Soap, completely unfazed, nodded. "Aye. Some of these books go real in-depth. Good technique descriptions, too."

Cam gasped, smacking his arm. "Johnny!"

"What? I'm just sayin'!"

John looked between them, his patience hanging by a thread again. "So you're tellin' me... that you read about fictional fairy shaggin', and he listens?"

Soap grinned. "I mean, not always. Sometimes I just let her read to me. Makes it more fun."

His entire body stiffened.

Cam slapped Soap's arm again. "Stop making it sound weird!"

Simon, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "No, go on. This is interesting."

John turned to Simon, who stood with his arms crossed.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" John said, voice dry as sandpaper.

Simon gave the tiniest nod. "Yes. If Gabby was here, she would be on boat of this."

His instincts immediately went on alert. He didn't like where this was going.

"I can't believe this," John shook his head and he was ready to step out of this store. "What's the world come to?"

"A better love story than Twilight," Cam called after him.

John rolled his eyes but didn't argue as he give up. He would rather stick to reports than reading anything rubbish.

He could already picture it—Charlie defending Edward Cullen's brooding devotion, Cam countering with Rhysand's dominance and wingspan, and Soap egging them both on just to watch the chaos. If the women in his life ever got into a fictional debate over these fantasy men, John knew he'd be better off hightailing it out somewhere before it got too weird for him.

***

Thirty minutes.

Thirty long, mind-numbing minutes had passed, and John was convinced this shop was some sort of geek hell.

Everywhere he looked, there were shelves stacked with collectible comics, action figures, and figurines he didn't care for. Posters of superheroes and fantasy characters lined the walls, while die-hard fans swarmed every corner, debating the merits of some franchise or another. John leaned against a shelf displaying an array of oversized Funko Pops, his arms crossed over his chest. If someone asked him, he'd rather be somewhere than here. Hell, he'd even settle for sitting through a briefing. But here? This was borderline torture.

His patience was further tested as he watched Soap and Gaz locked in what could only be described as the most pointless argument of the day.

"Look, see this detail?" Soap said, holding up an original Batman figurine. "They've nailed the cape and the suit. Good ol' days."

"Yeah, but look at this retro Iron Man. Classic design. Timeless." Gaz talked back.

"Timeless? Kyle, Batman was way better back in the 1990s."

"So does Iron Man!"

“Okay, look, both of them lost their parents,” Soap explained, “they’re billionaire playboys and they are rich. But, Batman doesn’t rely on AI while Iron Man, or Tony Stark, rely on AI. And not only that, they both can’t cook except Bruce has a butler and Tony has a robot butler.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you two serious right now?"

"Dead serious," Soap shot back, shoving the Batman figure closer to Gaz's face. "And don't you dare disrespect Batman's trauma. It's iconic."

Gaz grabbed an Iron Man figure off the shelf, waving it in Soap's direction. "Iconic doesn't win battles, Johnny. Tech does! Ask Gabby. Iron Man would mop the floor with him."

"Bollock," John muttered under his breath, glancing to his left to find Simon, who looked equally unimpressed.

Simon stood stiffly near a display of anime collectibles. His broad shoulders hunched as he scanned the store with an air of silent disapproval. His blank face made it hard to read his expression, but the way he stood motionless screamed bored out of his mind.

"Still figuring a way out of here?" John asked, walking over to him.

"I've mapped out three exits, but Cam's got us locked down, and those two—" he gestured toward Soap and Gaz, who were now comparing comic books—"are clearly settin' up shop."

John smirked faintly. "No luck sneakin' off?"

"Negative," Simon said, the frustration hinted in his tone. "Tried to slip past the board game aisle, but some bloke in a Spider-Man costume started rambling about dice mechanics. Had to backtrack."

John raised an eyebrow. "Surprised you didn't take the chance to learn somethin' new."

Simon shot him a look, or at least what John assumed was a look of 'are you shitting me?'. "I'd rather be interrogated."

John chuckled under his breath, his arms still crossed. "Guess we're both stuck, then."

Simon shifted his weight, glancing toward Cam, who was happily flipping through a rack of limited-edition graphic novels. "What's worse is Cam's lovin' it."

"More like two kids," John said, nodding toward Gaz, who was still fiercely defending Iron Man's honor. "If they start throwing punches, I'm not stopping them."

Simon huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You'd think we don't have actual lives outside this mess."

They stood there in silence for a moment, both men listening to their pointless argument. Then Simon spoke again, his voice low. "If we don't make it out of here soon, I'm puttin' in a request to ban mission downtime."

John smirked, his tone dry. "Good luck with that."

"I'm serious," Simon frowned. "Next time, we're draggin' them to a hardware store. Let's see how they like that."

John shook his head and said, "Careful. Cami might drag you back here for revenge."

"Fucking hell," Simon sighed, his shoulders slumped.

Just then, Soap's voice rose above the din. "Oi! Do you have a favorite superhero, Ghost? There's gotta be one brooding enough for you."

Simon deadpanned, "Does Death count?"

Gaz thought about his comment and he found a Spawn figure nearby. "Found your guy."

Simon gave it a cursory glance. "At least he doesn't wear tights."

John looked at the figure too, and he nodded in approval.

"Agree."

***

Outside, Cam clutched her bags of goodies, shining with joy, while Gaz juggled his own haul of goodies.

"I gotta say, Cam. You've got great taste," Gaz added. "You okay of me stopping by and we should binge watch Agents of SHIELD? I'll bring in beers."

"Gaz, you're more than welcome to stop by our place at any time," she said, looking at Gaz while clutching her bags of goodies. She then looked at Soap with a lopsided grin. "This has been the best day."

"Anything for you, babe," Soap said, kissing her head. "I'd walk through the fires of geekdom for you."

"Sounds like a fire hazard," Simon added, earning a glare from Niamh.

"Simon," she warned. "Don't ruin my happiness."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Simon said, his tone dripping with mischief.

John trailed behind, his thoughts already drifting elsewhere—Charlie.

He'd been keeping himself busy today—too busy—but his mind had found its way back to her anyway.

The usual warmth behind her brown eyes had been different. She'd smiled, sure, but he'd spent years reading people—analyzing their emotions, detecting when something wasn't right.

And something about Charlie wasn't right.

John exhaled slowly, glancing up at the overcast sky.

He knew she was probably still rattled from learning about Cam. He should've told her sooner—but he hadn't. Not because he was hiding it from her, but because he wasn't used to this.

Talking about himself. Personal things.

He'd spent his whole life compartmentalizing. Keeping his emotions locked up tight, building walls so high that most people never got past them.

But Charlie has gotten in his skin without any effort.

And now, he'd have to find a way to explain things.

John flexed his fingers inside his pockets, already thinking ahead—until Simon's parting shot. "At least now we know the old man can blush"—earned him a sharp glare.

"Go to hell, Simon."

Simon smirked last. "Already there, boss."