#i don't even have to talk to customers????

[poppy-metal]

UGH and then he shows up at your work and you’re like “fuck off or i’ll tell my manager you’re harassing me” and it’s SOOOO fake. like you’re such a liar.

“quit fucking blocking me and i won’t have to show up here to fucking speak to you.”

“i don’t want to speak to you, you stupid slut.”

“is that any way to talk to a paying customer? maybe i have something to tell your manager too.”

“jump off a cliff.”

“when does your shift finish?”

“why would i tell you that?”

“so i can pick you up after and you can tell me how you really feel back at my apartment.”

“…”

raises his eyes brows.

“6:30.”

giggling and kicking my feet i genuinely need this kind of relationship with him so bad u don't understand.

just deliberately calling him names and being petty because you know the more you piss him off the more your ass is gonna get reamed later - its his fault, anyway. all his intensity and passion made you crave this kind of dynamic - you used to be a good girl with normal taste in men and the desire to settle down with just some guy. now you couldn't get off during sex unless it felt violent - you got fucking bored so easily when there wasn't a fight to be had - you thought if a man didn't track you down by your fucking email and drag you back to his dick by the scruff of your neck, it meant he didn't want you and wasn't worth your time. and how fucked up was that?

so yeah - he could handle a few insults. because fuck him, genuinely. you'd never be the same again after him.

you give him the time your off anyway. and you're fidgeting the whole rest of your shift. nearly bouncing on your heels and by 6:25 you're so amped up - pussy nearly drenching your jean shorts enough to leave a visible stain - that when a customer comes in you actually consider ripping their head off. you throw them onto your coworker instead, tossing them a glare that could freeze over hell when they start to protest.

nothing was going to stand in your way. you'd broken up with patrick two weeks ago. two weeks without his cock stretching you out - diabolical. even though you'd been the one to issue the break and to block him on everything - still, way too fucking long.

you think you might be able to get a few more jabs in - really seal the deal, because if you were honest, being a brat was addicting as hell - but when you approach patricks car and you see him leaned against it, cigarette in hand, just watching you come toward him calmly - you lose your breath.

you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame - willingly diving head first into the jaws of a wolf - and when you're close enough he drops the cig, crushes it underneath his shoe and reaches out - grabs you roughly by the collar of your shirt and yanks you to him. his mouth is on yours and its tongues and teeth and lips and moaning like you're each starving for it. he grips the sides of your face and plunders your mouth with his tongue and you clutch as his waist, scrabbling your hands under his hoodie to feel the warm skin of his stomach.

it twitches under your palms and you hungrily drag your hands up, wanting to feel him and patrick turns, pinning you to his car and fumbling behind you, yanking the back door open.

he pulls back, says, "get in." but hes already shoving you backwards himself and you're falling onto his shitty leather seats and he's following, coming down over you and slamming the door closed with his foot. he kneels over you, hands yanking at his belt - "you dont want me anymore, huh?" rips it through the loops hard enough that it snaps against his wrist when its all the way free. "I'm not serious enough for you?"

he's rehashing all the shit you'd said to him over text and you bite your lip, arching your back - but he places a palm on your stomach, pushes you back down - "this isn't serious." you lie to him and his eyes flash, he fucking hates when you lie to his face. which is why you grin and tell him, "im just horny - you could be anyone -"

patrick nods like, 'aw, yeah?' and you feel an excited shiver go through you - are expecting it but still gasp when he grips you by the waist and roughly rolls you over onto your belly. he's pressed against your back immediately, big and crushing you against the too hot seats. fingers yanking down your shorts and panties at the same time, "you're such a fucking liar." he grunts, lifts up just enough to wrangle his own jeans and boxers down over his ass. "what am I gonna do about that, huh? you know that shit pisses me off."

you moan at the feel of that big dick of his, hard and hot as it slips between your cheeks. the blunt head slippery as it glides over your asshole - "god, i missed this ass, fuck -" you try to lift your hips, make it so he slips down to your pussy where you want him. are ready to take him. but he shoves you back down his pelvis, knocks the breath out of you when he winds his bicep around your neck. "ahh, no. you think you deserve this dick in your pussy after the shit you pulled? i thought i was too small for you- "

you try to cry out when you feel him slip over your hole again, trying to claw at his arm but you cant. your hands are trapped under your body. you're immobile. you've never been so fucking wet in your life.

"stop-" you pant weakly, even as you grind back against him. "not there patrick- please -"

"huh?" he grunts against your ear and you feel the press of his cockhead as it probes your tight asshole. "you tellin me no? said i couldn't have your cunt so im confused, baby -" it pushes futher against the tight ring and you wail. wiggling your hips to try and buck him off but he doesn't move a fucking inch.

"im not ready - i didn't prep - patrick dont. - please, im sorry -"

just the barest inch of his cock is fitted inside the tiny hole. he moves his hips so it presses in and out just barely, and the burn has your pussy weeping. the leather is sticky under you. "that's too bad -" patrick pants against you, his arm flexes against your throat and your eyes roll back at the pain in your ass as he pushes more into you. "- cause you fucking know what happens when you're a brat. knew this was comin'-"

and its true, you did. knew from the start that patricks favorite way to punish you, to work out his anger was on your tight ass.

and thats specifically why you didn't prep yourself.

"you can cry about it, its not gonna change it -" his head finally pops past the resistant ring of your stubborn rim. you squeal and buck under him and he groans, burying his face in your hair - "oh fuck - you're so goddamn tight - grip me with that ass, baby, yes -"

despite your cries and protests he forces himself in inch by inch into the tight passage of your body. until you feel the weight of his heavy balls on your wet pussy. it hurts so fucking bad. you're so full you could die. why is so fucking big?? god you're so turned on. you needed this.

contrary to every action before it, patrick softly kisses the back of your neck. loosens his arm around you just enough that you can sag fully down into the seats below and gulp in air.

"that's it, good girl -" his body completely folds over yours. no part of you seprated as he has you basically prone. he shifts his hips and rocks his cock into your sore ass. "just lay there and let daddy use you now."

you gargle out something of a reply. already drooling from the mouth. and this isn't even the end.

[lovebittenbyevans]

In Their Words | One Shot

Summary: When Oscar finally did an podcast interview with you

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x interviewer! Female Reader

Warnings: two cursed words

Author note: I was inspired by watching jay shetty podcast on youtube to write this. Enjoy reading!

My Masterlist

You sat in the chair across from him and moved the microphone toward you. You were nervous to do this but at the same time you were excited. You have been wanting to interview Oscar for a while now since he was always busy.

“We are ready to start.” The producer yelled making sure everyone heard him.

You clear your throat as the camera started rolling. You looked at him with a polite smile. “Oscar Piastri.”

He chuckles a bit. “Y/N.” He was wearing a black hoodie and comfortable blue jeans. He wanted to dress for himself for once and be comfortable.

“Welcome to in their words podcast.” You speak into the microphone.

Oscar leans back slightly in his chair and speaks into the microphone. “Thank you for having me.”

You let out a soft sigh. “Now, there is so much I want to ask but some stuff we can talk about off cameras as well.”

He laughed a bit. “Y/N, you and I have been friends for four years. You know you can ask me anything.” You rolled your eyes and sucked your teeth playfully. “Open book, huh?”

He laughed again. “Go ahead.” You clears your throat as you make eye contact with him. “My first question would be your lifestyle? What made you want to be so free.”

He rubbed his chin for a second before he answered your question. “As you know both my parents are rich and wealthy. I didn’t want a path where I had to be them. I wanted one of my own and just be careful with who I let in my life.”

“So, you wanted to be this sugar daddy for every woman you are with?” You raised an eyebrow. You knew how Oscar moved so well.

He let out a sigh and said. “No, I just like having women around me. Yes, I have money but I’m not stupid enough to let them use me. I truly care about my girlfriend Ruby.” At least he was being honest.

You nodded listening to him. “How long have you and Remi been together?”

Oscar made a thinking face. “On and off for almost a year and a half.”

“And do you feel like you are missing something from her? That’s why you don’t want to be fully committed.” You asked him another question.

He didn’t know how to answer that. He never thought about Ruby being his forever even though he did love her to an extent.

“I think when two people are enjoying each other's company and don't want to ruin their little bubble they have with them. It’s become a custom to it.” He explained the best way he could.

You just listen to him talk through the interview as you ask him more questions about him, his life mostly. You noticed sometimes Oscar only likes attention from people who matter to him.

“Charles, Lando and Lewis are the ones I’m closest to and they always have my back. Even when we see each other at events we have good conversations with each other.” He tells you.

You sit up a bit in your chair. “And I feel like I can come to you about anything as well.” He continues to talk.

“When I’m available.” You joked.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you get what I sent you?”

You gave him a side eye. “I did but you didn’t have to do that.” You were not about to reveal what he gave you on camera. You like to keep things private between you and him.

He looks at you while shaking his head. He knew what kind of person you are even though he always wanted to be here for you.

“Y/N, why don't you let me be–” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “I have this card sitting on my lap and I am going to ask you a few questions from people.” You truly don’t want to have this conversation on camera right now.

Oscar opens his mouth, but closes it. “Question one is do you ever see a future of you settling down with Remi?” You glance at the card and then at him.

He chuckles briefly. “Um, that’s a tough answer to give.”

You moved on to the next question. “If you were in a different universe what would your career be?”

“I always say I wanted to be a professor on college campus, tattoo artists or soccer player.” He answered truthfully.

You moved the microphone a bit. “And final question.” Your eyes widened when you saw the next question. You almost gasped. “Um.” You paused for a moment. “Could you see yourself being with Y/N? Would you be willing to explore with her and see if there is a chance?”

You felt your cheeks flush as he locked eyes with you. “My only answer would be a hundred percent yes.” You didn’t expect him to actually answer that so loudly.

“Ok.” You said. “Thanks for coming on my show Oscar.” You had to pull yourself together and be calm.

He smiled warmly. “Thank you so much for having me, Y/N.”

The producer yelled cut as you rose from your chair and walked off set. You walked out the door after thanking the crew for being on set. You headed straight to your car and unlocked the door with your car keys.

You open the door to your car when you hear Oscar call out to you. “Y/N, wait!” His Australian accent was thick.

He grabs your arm, turning you around to face him. “No, No, No.” You spoke first. “Did you not understand what you just did on camera?”

Oscar ran his hand through his hair. “Yes, but I don’t regret saying it.” You glare at him for a second. “O, fucking Remi!? You forgot you have a whole girlfriend and women?”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not taking it back. I meant what I said, Y/N.” Your heart was racing while looking at him.

You never saw him in that way ever. It never crossed your mind for you to be anything more with him.

“Have a good rest of your day, O.” You got inside your car, closing the door shut and immediately drove off.

Oscar stood there watching you drive away instead of talking to you. “Fuck!” He mumbles to himself.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Jude's True Vow Wedding Event - A Dissection ☾.

Yes, I realize that I am extremely biased, but after a few days, and re-reading his CE story from BW: A True Vow For The Jet-Black bride, I thought it'd be fun to pick everything apart and dive deeper into his qualities, (And I'm talking more than just "He doesn't like the mistreatment of women"). It's quite lengthy, but I hope you all like it. Under the cut due to spoilers about Ellis' route as well. And these are just my personal notes and thoughts, you don't have to agree, but please don't gripe about it.

Jude: In a week, no attendees, ‘n I bought a few dresses, so pick whatever ya like.

At first glance, you might think he’s being a rich jerk, but let’s break it down.

Thoughtful & Protective: Jude went out of his way to buy a number of dresses for Kate to choose from, and I love him for it. He could’ve just bought one based on his personal preferences and said, “Here, we’re getting hitched, wear this.” But, he didn’t do that, he let her have options. Obviously, he didn’t allow her to go to a boutique to have one custom-fitted, no doubt because people know who she is, and it runs risk of her getting hurt. Still, even ready-made dresses can be altered by Crown staff (which I’m sure is what happened.)

What it boils down to is this: Jude was protecting his bride, and yet he still still allowed her the experience of looking over different dresses, and no doubt trying them on just as she would’ve done at a boutique for a more normal wedding. Also, he’s a very busy guy, and not just with roughing people up over collections, his trading company - Raven - is extremely successful with several branches expanding, so the fact that he took the time to even do this for her is endearing. He gave his beloved the bridal experience she deserves.

Jude’s eyes widened when he saw me. Jude: Suits ya.

This is just because. I just love that Jude is Jude, and this is his way of saying she’s beautiful, and I gush over it.

Jude: You’re goin’ to hell, too. (There is a SEPARATE thesis on this line that I am compiling.)

Considerate & Yielding: “Considerate? The heck are you saying Ciele? How’s that the case?” Before I explain, let me just say that I laughed so hard at this sentence because it’s soooo Jude, and no one (at least I hope no one), says that to the love of their life while they are at the altar. So I can see why people might hate for him for saying that, especially if you know nothing about this guy. Some of you do and still dislike him and that’s okay, but the reason why I say he’s being considerate is because from the very beginning, he’s hated the fact that Kate was literally dragged into Crown, when she did nothing wrong. Kate herself says in this story, that out of all the Crown members he was the one who worked so hard to have her return to her normal life. Here are some reasons:

She’s innocent. She doesn’t deserve to die.

We’ve seen in his POV events such as his first Black Wedding event, and his 1st Anniversary event, that he finds it unthinkable that someone like her would be with him (the total opposite of his wickedness).

From his POV of his 1st Anniversary SE Premium Ending: (I know. The most disgusting person is the one who thinks it's okay to be with her.) Throughout the entire story, he is trying to send her home, and he uses underhanded methods to do it, but by the end of the story, he’s captivated by the determined look in her eyes, and he’s absolutely disgusted with the fact that he’s starting to think it’s okay for her to be with him.

When I thought of it, I personally feel like Jude is reminding her that if she chooses to marry him, (Or perhaps because she does something in his route that could be considered condemnable), she’ll fall to hell with him. Which is ironic seeing that they’re getting married in a church knowing that (separate thesis later).

Either way, Kate mentions that he says this with a complicated expression, and I think it’s clearly because he is still uncomfortable with her (some one whom he considers to be clean), staying with someone like him. Still, he apparently loves her so much for her determination, that he is willing to accept someone who’s willing to go to hell with him, whether that’s a figurative hell or literal one.

Jude: ……Heard ya told Ellis ya wanted a weddin’ ceremony.

Attentive: Well, yeah. He’s attentive by nature as a businessman, but I love that he channels this into his lover as well. You can be attentive to your work and neglect your mate’s wants and needs, so 10/10 hubby material here. It’s also kind of cute in a way that he dodges Kate’s question about how he found out about that. Either Ellis blabbed (which is totally feasible), or Jude overheard the conversation himself, and our information junkie no doubt has his ways of getting that information easily.

Now, we don’t know how much time passed from the time Jude heard that bit of info, to them actually marrying, but he put every thing together fluidly and he thought of everything. Her dress, the venue, security, the attendees (or lack of), and the time it’d take place - he arranged it all on his own and surprised her with a wedding. That’s a lot of work all on it’s own on top his personal work, Crown missions, and his hobbies. Kate didn’t have to lift a finger. Sign me up.

Jude: I can’t have a normal life, and I can’t have the married life you’re thinkin’ of. If ya wanna turn back - do it now.

Straightforward: We all know that he doesn’t have a problem voicing his thoughts or opinions, and it’s not beneath him to withhold information, or to skirt around an issue. However, by now he is very clear about what he can’t give her. They will never have a normal life together and he can’t give her that white picket fence marriage most dream of, and I respect him for that. He isn’t going to entice her to enter into this marriage contract with empty promises of a future they will never enjoy.

Fair: For lack of a better word, I feel that he is very fair. Take this moment of him and her alone in the church as he presents her with a contract. He’s offering her a fair chance to leave him before she signs her life away to him, and more than that, Jude dignifies Kate by allowing her the choice to run from him one last time (assumptive), prior to signing the marriage contract. He doesn’t force her to stay with him, and was even prepared to offer her time to think it over. To be honest, I expect to seem something in his route, so this is his last effort to let her leave because he will never let her go afterwards.

And he’s always been fair, even when dealing with trash on his missions, instead of killing them off, he gives them the chance to keep their lives through rigorous labor. Now, we all know they are either sent to the coal mine or the lab for presumed human experimentation, but Jude actually values human life. He doesn’t kill unless he really needs to, or if the person is deemed completely worthless, so while it’s not the best end for the person who enters into a slavery contract with him, it’s the fact that he has the minimal amount of human decency to offer them options.

The marriage vows themselves.

Cautious, Faithful, Communicative, Wise & Romantic: Their mutual vows are as follows: 1. I have no objection to this marriage. 2. Infidelity is strictly prohibited. 3. Regarding money transfers, a separate contract will be prepared and a mutual agreement will be reached.

I promise to make this hell we share together a life filled with happiness.

I think it’s all kind of self-explanatory, but I can see how some might roll their eyes at the fact that he’d make her sign their marriage vows with financial stipulations, but this is Jude and he always has a reason behind his actions. I’m confident in that he’s not only doing this to protect himself, but her as well. Look, let’s be real, when we get married we are combining households and we are also taking on another person’s debt so to speak…..what I mean is, if my credit is clean, but my spouses is not, it limits a lot of options for us. Also, exchanging money and sharing expenses can cause a LOT of problems if you don’t discuss these things prior to getting married. He is wise to exercise caution (especially since he’s gathering as much money as he can to attain a certain goal that is yet to be disclosed), and Jude will never allow his wife to lack in anything materially.

He takes fidelity very seriously and I’m sure this has to do with something from his past (perhaps not he himself, but the consequences he witnessed because of those actions…..perhaps he was a consequence himself (?)). Any man who vows to be faithful to me and makes good on that promise, is TOP tier to me - as a divorcee of a spouse who was unfaithful to me- this means a LOT to me. And the fact that not only she is agreeable to the marriage, but he is too is HUGE. Jude views marriage, or love on the whole, as a curse. He’s come a loonnnng way, and I can’t wait for his route to be announced to see what exactly is the catalyst that motivates him to change.

Further, his promise to make their crazy, hell-like life one of happiness, along with all the other things he did just to make this wedding happen, is the cherry on top. It’s like the crescendo of his romantic side. And yes, I fully believe that Jude is a romantic, this event alone convinces me of that. Kate had told him in the event that he made her dreams that she’d told Ellis about getting married to come true, and while all he did was laugh at her while he pulled out there wedding contract, he didn’t deny it. He truly did make her dreams come true, it was in Jude’s style, but he did it in the most thoughtful, discreet, and sweetest way he could, and that to me is truly romantic.

The bottom line: Jude is PEAK to me. And yes, these notes are lengthy, but I had a lot of fun doing this, and I haven't done this in a while. Nice to take a break from translating and delve into things more. Again, we can't be dogmatic on things, this is just for fun. Now to start writing my other word salad thesis *Laughs like Palpatine*

[defectivehero]

warnings: disability due to injury (blindness)

The scientist knows when the villain arrives at their doorstep. They don't need to even look up from their blueprints to recognize the very moment they approach. "Ah, I've been expecting you," the scientist says, leaning down to continue sketching.

"No, you fucking haven't been," the villain hisses at their turned back. They sound indignant, angry. "You're a scientist, not a prophet." The scientist raises their brows.

"That's not a very nice way to treat one of the few people who is willing to work with you," the scientist hums, still not bothering to look up. And indeed, they are among the very few that the villain has sought out more than once. The scientist has heard horror stories of those who failed to accomplish what the villain asked of them. The villain is notoriously hard to work with, apparently.

"I don't want to be helped," the villain argues. There's that ever familiar prickliness.

"That's fine," the scientist responds after a moment's contemplation. For a long few moments, the only sound in the room is their pen scratching against paper. They give the villain a few more seconds to speak up, before sighing. "What do you want, exactly?"

"You know what I want," the villain seethes.

"Maybe I want to hear you say it," the scientist murmurs. They're waiting for the delicious words: 'I want your assistance, I need your help. There's no one else I can turn to.' They wait for the inevitable request for a super-powered weapon with the most advanced technology they have access to.

What the villain utters is entirely unexpected. "I need you to build an assistive device that will enable me to see again."

"What?" The scientist spins around in their chair so fast that they nearly fall to the floor. The villain is still standing in the doorway, a dark shadow against the white walls. "What did you just say?" The scientist chokes out.

"I lost my sight," the villain says, taking a step into the room. The shadows fall away with the overhead lighting, revealing the villain. They're dressed in all-black—as always—and have a tight pull to their lips. Their eyes are trained on the wall behind the scientist.

"How?" The scientist hears themself ask. "Who?"

"You know very well who," the villain responds.

The scientist's throat burns at the thought. They're suddenly seized with emotion—a sensation they haven't been burdened with in quite a long time.

"Can you do it?" The villain presses on, immune to the scientist's quickly spiraling thoughts. The scientist takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of their nose, anticipating a headache coming on from how long they've been staring down at their notes.

They take a few seconds to process the villain's request. "I don't think you understand what you're asking of me." The scientist admits. The villain stiffens, yet they don't let out an objection. The scientist continues. "I can help lessen the burden, sure, but I sure as hell can't give you your sight back. I wouldn't be tinkering around in this little cellar if I could reverse blindness."

"I think you're the one who doesn't understand," the villain hums, taking a step closer. "You are, quite literally, the only person in the entire world who is willing to assist me, in any capacity."

A quick bolt of anger hits the scientist's spine, straightening their slumped posture. “You do realize that the wide majority of disabled people don’t get to just waltz into a scientist’s lab and demand all their problems be solved,” the scientist says, struggling to keep the frustration from their voice. “And, even if they were to get this far, they wouldn’t have the necessary funds. I mean, we're talking about... a shit ton of money, to put it frankly." The scientist charges fairly, and even then... their work is quite costly. That's why their customers are usually hero agencies and villain conglomerates.

“What, so I shouldn’t seek out assistance?” The villain scoffs.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” the scientist sighs. "Just- I'll do what I can, but an assistive device I create won't be able to heal your sight—it'll just enhance your existing senses."

"I'll take what I can get," the villain responds. There's a hint of uncharacteristic resignation in their voice, and the scientist hates that there isn't more they can do. Hell, they'd love nothing more than to snap their fingers and have a solution.

"Fine," the scientist acknowledges, turning around and focusing on the papers in front of them once more. Despite their desire to develop something for the villain as soon as possible, they need to focus on their existing projects first. They stare down at the blueprints they created and frown. It takes a few moments for them to realize what's throwing them off. It's not the sketch—it's the villain still lurking in their lab. "Did you need something else?" The scientist asks, not bothering to look up from their desk.

"No." The villain responds.

"I work better alone," the scientist says pointedly. Guilt seizes in their chest as they hear the villain's retreating footsteps. They hear themself speaking before they can contemplate the consequences. "Hey." They turn around to find themself staring at the villain's turned back. They've paused in the doorway. The scientist takes a deep breath. "For what it's worth... I'm sorry."

"Me too," the villain answers before they depart.

The scientist stares at the empty doorway for a bit, before turning back to their work. They bite the inside of their cheek and get to work, pushing aside any unprofessional concern for the villain's wellbeing.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

thanks for reading! <3

I'm down to do a part two for this, so let me know if that's something you're interested in.

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[simpforrooster]

exactly what i was texting her.

robert 'bob' floyd x f! reader

summary: your first date with bob.

a/n: my first bob fic just for you anon! i won't lie, it was hard to tap into bob's sweetness. i wanted them to banter sooooo badly xD

phoenix has been begging you to meet her new weapon systems operator.

no. that isn't quite it.

she's been trying to set you up with him.

you don't know anything about the man other than his callsign. which is bob.

bob.

hanging around naval aviators all your life, you figured one day you'd go on a date with one of them. you just assumed he would have a cooler callsign than bob.

maybe something like snake, or the infamous maverick. a girl can dream right?

anyway.

phoenix finally wore you down, and you're waiting outside a small diner for this infamous bob.

"wow, phoenix didn't do you any justice. you're beautiful." you hear to your left. a man in navy issue glasses and sandy hair smiles, slightly awkwardly, at you.

"i'm robert, or bob," he chuckles, reaching out a hand to you.

bob was the most perfect call sign for this man.

sweetness exudes off bob immediately putting you at ease, and you praise phoenix for being so resilient in this pairing.

"phoenix has told me all about you," he tells you, a hand on the small of your back, leading you into the diner. the two of you find a place in the back corner, away from loud customers.

it doesn't escape you that phoenix hadn't told you a thing about bob, except for his name. "i want you to form your own judgment!" she'd said.

bob slide into the booth across from you and fed you another nervous smile. "i'm sorry. i'm normally not this nervous."

"it's okay, i'm pretty nervous too," you tell him, reaching across the table to lay your hand on his arm. his cheeks pinkened, and yours followed, as your hand must have done that on its own. you return your hand to lap quickly.

as the night progresses, you and bob have fallen into a comfortable rapport. the way you've fallen into step with him, and at the speed surprises you. it's not that you've been closed off entirely to dating, it was just something that you hadn't focused on too much.

now, it seems like you can't remember what it was like before you met this quirky, sweet aviator.

at some point in the evening, bob has abandoned the seat across from you, favoring sharing the seat with you. you sit, your back to the wall, fully giving your attention to him.

bob reaches for your hand, confidence having replaced the earlier apprehension. for a few moments, he plays with your hand in his while the two of you continue talking.

"for the happy couple. on the house," your waitress interrupts your story, placing a piece of apple pie and ice cream on your table. "the two of you are just too sweet."

you and bob share a secret smile. you slide a little closer to him in the booth and his hand causally falls around your shoulder. the two of you share the dessert, and soon after, your being kicked out the diner so they can close up.

standing in the cool evening air while bob pays, you pull your phone out to text phoenix.

"i hope you're telling her the date was perfect and you can't wait to see me again," he tells you over your shoulder. when you turn your head, his mouth is right there. he drops his gaze to your mouth, silently asking if it's okay to kiss you. you answer him by closing the gap between the two of you.

his hands fall to your waist, and he spins your body around to pull you into him.

"as a matter of fact, that is exactly what i was texting her."

masterlist.

[thatdammchickennugget]

Whisker Me Away

pairing -theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings - non-compliance with restaurant hygiene standards, remi the rat, minor confrontation, smut, unprotected smut, semi public, this is just a silly little joke pls don't take anything I post serious, MINORS DNI

a/n - was inspired by @machiavellli sharing her böötigel blurb and decided I'm finally brave enough to share this. based on this silly request @finalgirllx got, thank you for giving me permission to write it. credit for the final line of dialogue goes to the amazing @fuckaperioddrama

request - Hiya!!!!!! Can i request a theo oneshot where he’s the head chef at a restaurant and you complain that the spaghetti and meatballs are cold and theo says he’ll come out to talk to you but you’re already shoving your way to the back and then you see him take ratatouille out of his hat and then it ends in smut? Thanksies! xx

wordcount - 1.8k

You sit at a small, candle-lit table in the corner of one of the trendiest new restaurants in Diagon Alley, frowning at your plate of spaghetti and meatballs. The atmosphere is perfect, with soft jazz playing in the background and twinkling fairy lights casting a warm glow. Everything is ideal—except your food.

You pick up your fork and take another bite, but the cold noodles and tepid meatballs only deepen your disappointment. With a sigh, you wave over the nearest server.

"Excuse me, but my spaghetti is cold," you say, trying to keep your voice polite despite your growing frustration.

The server's eyes widen, and she nods quickly. "I'm so sorry about that. I'll let the chef know right away."

You watch her scurry off toward the kitchen, and a few moments later, she returns with an apologetic smile. "Chef Nott would like to speak with you about your dish. He insists on addressing these matters personally."

You nod, but before she can finish her sentence, you’re already out of your seat, determination driving you toward the kitchen doors. If the chef wants to talk, then you'll give him a piece of your mind face-to-face.

Pushing through the swinging doors, you enter the bustling kitchen, filled with the clatter of pots and pans and the sizzle of various dishes being prepared. You scan the room, your eyes finally landing on a tall figure in a crisp white chef's coat and a tall hat. Theodore Nott.

You’ve heard about him—how he’s revolutionized wizarding cuisine with his inventive dishes and meticulous attention to detail. But right now, all you care about is the subpar spaghetti on your table.

"Chef Nott?" you call out, striding forward with purpose.

He turns to face you, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise. He’s even more striking up close, with sharp features softened slightly by a dusting of stubble and intense, deep-set eyes that seem to see right through you.

"Yes, that’s me," he replies, his voice calm and measured. "You must be the customer with the cold spaghetti."

You nod, folding your arms across your chest. "I just wanted a nice dinner, but my food is ice-cold. I hope you have an explanation for that."

The chef's lips twitch into a slight smile, and he reaches up to adjust his hat. "I do apologize for that. Let me make it up to you."

Before you can respond, his chef hat is being lifted up just a tad, and to your utter astonishment, a small rat pokes its head out. You blink, wondering if you’ve somehow wandered into a bizarre dream.

"Oh, this is Remy," Theo says, his tone casual as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. "He's quite the expert in flavors."

You gape at him, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. "Is this a joke?" you manage to ask.

Theo chuckles, the sound warm and rich. "Not at all. Remy here has a unique talent for finding the perfect balance of flavors. Let me reheat your dish and make sure it's exactly as it should be."

You watch, dumbfounded, as Remy the rat crawls out from under the hat and down the chef’s arm. The rat grabs a stirring spoon, hops over to the boiling pot on the stove and sets to work.

Chef Nott catches your wide-eyed look and grins. "I know it seems strange, but trust me, you'll love the result."

Despite your initial shock, you can’t help but be intrigued. You’ve never seen anything like this before, and the sheer oddity of it all piques your curiosity. You lean against a nearby counter, watching as man and rat move in sync to enhance your dish.

Within minutes, the tantalizing aroma of fresh herbs and perfectly cooked pasta fills the kitchen. Your stomach growls, reminding you of your hunger. The chef plates the dish with a flourish, then hands it to you with a proud smile.

"Here you go, fresh and hot. Try it now," he says, his eyes sparkling with confidence.

You take the plate and head back to your table, aware of him watching you from the door leading into the kitchen as you sit down. The first bite is a revelation—the spaghetti is perfectly al dente, the sauce rich and flavorful, and the meatballs tender and savory. It’s like tasting a masterpiece.

You glance back at the kitchen, meeting his gaze. Unable to resist, you wave him over. He approaches, his expression curious and slightly amused.

"I have to admit," you say as he stands beside your table, "this is the best spaghetti and meatballs I've ever had."

Chef Nott’s smile widens, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "I’m glad you think so. Remy and I make a good team."

You laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you. "I never thought I'd say this, but a rat might be my new favorite chef."

He chuckles, and the sound sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Remy has that effect on people. But I'm glad we could turn your evening around."

You find yourself caught in his gaze, the connection between you electric. There’s something about his presence—his confidence, his passion—that draws you in.

"Thank you," you say softly, not just for the food but for the entire experience.

He steps closer and leans down to meet your gaze, his eyes darkening with an intensity that makes your heart race. "You're welcome," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

Before you can think, you’re both leaning in, the space between you shrinking. Your breath catches as his lips brush yours, the kiss tentative at first but quickly deepening. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into him, the warmth of his body against yours igniting a fire inside you.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes are dark with desire, and you know yours must mirror his.

"How about dessert?" he whispers, his lips grazing your ear.

You feel a thrilling tingle spread from where his breath tickles your skin, down to your toes. Your voice is barely more than a whisper as you reply, “I think I’d like that.”

His eyes flicker with a mix of amusement and something deeper, more intense. He takes your hand, guiding you through the kitchen, weaving expertly between bustling chefs and simmering pots. You can feel the eyes of the staff on you, but it only adds to the heady rush of the moment.

He leads you to a door at the back, pushing it open to reveal a small, dimly lit storage room. Shelves lined with jars of spices, bottles of oils, and boxes of fresh ingredients surround you. The door clicks shut behind you, and the room is filled with the intoxicating scent of the kitchen mingled with something else—something distinctly him.

Theodore turns to you, his gaze locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. Before you can say anything, he steps forward, gently but firmly pushing you back against one of the shelves. The cool metal against your back contrasts with the heat radiating from his body as he presses against you.

His lips find yours again, and this time, the kiss is anything but tentative. It’s urgent, hungry, filled with a need that matches your own. His hands roam, one tangling in your hair, the other sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you even closer.

As Theodore's hands explore the curves of your body, you feel a surge of desire wash over you, igniting a fire within. The shelves creak slightly under the weight of your entwined bodies as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He carries you to the nearby countertop and with a deft movement, he pushes aside the pots and pans, making room for the both of you. You tear at his chef's apron, not caring about the buttons flying around the room as your hands roam freely over his sculpted chest, feeling the rhythm of his racing heartbeat beneath your touch.

His lips find yours once more, the kiss deepening as your bodies meld together in a primal dance of passion. Clothes become nothing more than hindrances as they are shed with urgency, revealing the raw desire that simmers between you.

With a gasp, you feel Theodore push down your panties in one swift movement, leaving you exposed completely. Your thighs tremble in anticipation of the next onslaught of pleasure. You throw your head back with a moan when his finger finally finds your sensitive clit, pushing down in gentle circles as he takes the opportunity to claim your neck with his mouth.

Your nails scrape across his scalp, his mouth sucking hard on your flesh, causing a sharp intake of air to burst past your clenched teeth. His free hand slides up to cup one of your breasts, his other now pressing insistently against your entrance, urging you to ride his finger deeper and harder. With your legs wrapped tightly around his hips and your body arching off the counter, you’re helplessly lost in the bliss, unable to hold back another soft moan.

A second finger is added, and you let out a cry, riding it out as your orgasm hits hard and fast. You only take a moment to ride out your high before your hands slide back to his chest and then further down, scrambling to rid him of his boxers.  You don't miss the hitch in his breathing as you tug the fabric of his boxers over his hips and away.

He watches you, eyes half lidded, with a slight smirk on his face. His erection springs free, and you lick your lips, eyes burning with lust and desire. He doesn't waste another second, his hold tight on your hips as he pushes himself into you.

You gasp at the sudden intrusion, a delicious shiver running down your body as he fills you to the brim. After a few moments of slow thrusting, you can no longer stand it; you need him now, you crave to have his cock buried deep inside of you, to feel that glorious tension as he explodes into you. So you grab his shoulders and pull him roughly against your breasts, your cries loud enough to be heard outside in the kitchen.

He grunts in response, his movements growing faster, rougher as he thrusts into you harder, deeper. Finally, his climax hits, and you feel him shudder against your core, his release shooting hot streaks of sensation throughout your body.

You both fall apart, gasping for breath and exhausted, panting for air. Theo lets out a deep breath, leaning back against the shelf as he watches you pick your clothing off the floor with a smirk before he says, “You can come back to rata this touille anytime.”

[very-straight-blog]

out of all things that infuriate me in hotd, their treatment of helaegon is the most. royal incest marriage is the rarest thing in fiction. usually incest pairings are all about secrets, sneaking, hiding, stealing kisses, shame, guilt, etc. which is alright and juicy, but predictable. here they had a rare opportunuty to show the different side of it. Targs flaunt their special marriage customs, it's regal, prestigious, divine. Marrying a sister basically cements crown prince's position as next king. king and queen one body and soul. they had the chance to explore it. and failed miserably without even trying. i ship incest pairings as long as i remember and i watched a lot of stuff, but royal marriage i've seen in exactly two (2) shows and both failed spectacularly. king tut 2015 and some korean pseudohistorical soap opera. both shows were based on history and irl those kings loved their sister-wives passionately, and in both shows it was the opposite - kings were in love with some invented mary sue concubines, while queens were demoted to unwanted jealous bitter harpies. i don't get it, why even start working on the project if they hate source material? anyway, i expected a lot from dragon incest show, after all, Cersei and Jaime were not bad and sometimes even romantic. and hotd literally gave us nothing! i'd forgive hotd for being bad if they at least gave us good shippy scenes that make heart flutter but it's really nothing.

Unfortunately, I don't quite agree with you, because it seems to me that you confuse incest couples based on love and those based on duty. If we're talking about the Targaryens - yes, it was customary for them to create marriage unions between relatives, but this doesn't mean that all these unions were happy and that all Targaryens liked this tradition. I'll talk about the series so as not to confuse the sources, although Aegon and Helaena were married against their will in both variations of the story, in the book they were children, in the series - teenagers. We literally see Aegon, who doesn't want to marry his sister. Their marriage is a tragedy and a prison for both of them, this couple just doesn't have the feelings you're talking about. They're siblings trapped in this situation. Yes, I ship them - platonically, as people who don't have romantic or sexual feelings for each other, but who are still brother and sister, as well as parents of three children. They have little in common, but they're trying to find at least something for the sake of their sons and daughter. In my opinion, this is the beauty and tragedy of this couple. I also wrote about it here. But I agree that the screenwriters really didn't give us anything, even if we're talking about platonic feelings. I'd like to see the dynamics of their relationship with each other and with their children, it could be very interesting. Let's hope for something in the next episodes.

[doberbutts]

I know it's not gonna help you at this point, but if you ever have children in your life who are doing ballet in the future:

Ballet SHOULD NOT fuck up your feet. If your feet are getting fucked up, you have poorly fitted ballet shoes. A good instructor should catch this, but some don't care/are incompetent/never met anyone with feet as wide/narrow as yours. Also, a good dance store Will Not Let You Leave The Store with shoes that don't fit. I distinctly remember being in a dance store in my small town ~60 miles from San Francisco and them refusing to sell me B-width shoes because I needed AAA and they didn't have anything under B in-stock. A similar thing happened to a friend who needed DDDDs and they didn't have anything over C-Ds in stock (these are shoe widths). I was pissed as hell at having to drive 60 miles to SF and had to go to dance in socks, but I'm so glad they protected my feet.

Anyway, My grandmother has slightly less fucked up feet than me (I got juvenile bunions from my mom), longer second toe, <A width, and ballet DESTROYED her feet, but mine weren't because of AAA-width shoes and gel toe pads, and pointe shoes designed for longer second toes.

Sorry for the extensive message, but as someone who knows this, I feel it's my duty to tell everyone that future feet don't have to be fucked up by ballet. it's something I feel passionate about.

Well multiple problems with this:

I never plan on having children

This was not always the case and I expect I am a good deal older than you think I am. When I was a kid, finding a store that even sold ballet shoes let alone specifically a dance store required going several towns over and just putting on whatever seemed to work best OR special-ordering off a mailing list and hoping what you got worked out.

I was born a polydactyl, meaning my foot anatomy is shaped to accommodate extra toes. (And my hands for extra fingers). I can bet with near certainty that there is no ballet shoe that exists as-is that would not beat up my feet. Fact of the matter there is no regular shoe out there that doesn't hurt my feet somehow either. I'd almost have to get custom flats and my parents don't have the money for that and never did. I danced at the local rec center, it's not like they were shelling out the big bucks for personalized instruction.

I think you may be talking about pointe shoes- I never went en pointe due to ankle instability I was never able to fix, so I stayed on flats the entire time I danced. Which was from about 4 years old until I was well into my teens.

[hanzajesthanza]

everyone wants a relationship like yennefer and geralt, until you have to deal with the aftermath of your feral husband adventuring downstream and into the woods to avoid social obligations, chasing the local wildlife, and drinking river water

(i need suggestions on where to hide his swords, he has lost his blade privileges)

i don't suppose geralt travelled too far from yennefer's lap (or you know what else, lol - meaning, where the baby dragon stuck his head) when he was staying with her in vengerberg. she probably wouldn't let him in the house until he hosed down and agreed to eat all his meals with a fork and knife.

that is, until he caught the detrimental side of his mommy issues, and walked out on her

swords... they could go wherever they go... into a pocket dimension, maybe. but it's ineffective to take them from him, because he devolves into an anxious mess without: "i feel like a snail without its shell." (though that saying is strange. snails die if they are separated from their shells. well, maybe it's accurate in this case. what is a witcher without his swords? more often than not, a dead one).

ideally, he wouldn't need them.

i imagine geralt rising from his seat, upon hearing with his sharp ear yennefer from downstairs, in tense conversation with a husband of one of her clients, who is in the middle of hurling a tirade of abuse her way. geralt laces his bruising spiked gloves on, takes his sword, ties his headband, smiles nastily thinking he looks quite frightful, approaches the door, "i'll teach him a lesson."

by the time he reaches the stairs, a crack of electricity severs the air, emitting the scent of ozone. the satisfied-customer's dissatisfied-husband is already cowering, yammering an apology to the dignified, well-learned lady yennefer.

the witcher stands on the stairs. unties his hair, slowly walks back up to the bedroom... perhaps it's inappropriate to quote fringilla vigo here, as i'm talking about yennefer and geralt, but: "what are you trying to prove? your masculinity? i know better ways."

other thoughts on geralt's lifestyle shacked up in yennefer's house:

i have a headcanon that yennefer, finally speaking on geralt watching brush her hair with adoration, decides to comment (going something like this):

'What are you waiting for? Counting how many times I curse upon discovering split ends? Is my nightly routine really so special to you?' 'It is.' 'Is it? You're not a child. You know what a brush is. You even run one through your own hair. On occasion.' 'On occasion.'

it's her way of doing it which intrigues him. its her hands, her particularity, a foible of hers... wordlessly, she rises from the dressing table and sits on the bed, curling her bare legs in-between the eiderdown, resting her hands on his shoulders and beginning to brush his hair, gently, softly, caressing him...

i think that, (though i'm not at all saying that you were saying this, i'm just getting off-topic and commenting about a take ive seen floating around), the idea that yennefer "civilized" geralt and "taught him how to behave" is a slight misinterpretation, there's an emotional note to it. after all, geralt was not brutish before he lived with her, he dined with a queen, for god's sake. he was familiar with social rules, but just used to no one expecting them of him, caring if he smelled like his horse, because no one cared if he rode through the night, was cold, suffered. he never lived in a house, because he never was invited into one.

yennefer wished for domesticity of him, a home life. that was what she gave him, "more than she gave to any man" (bounds of reason). she gave that to him... out of love. that which he tired of, and hurt her in rejecting, then regretted it and came to wish for the same thing.

she showed him gentleness. like he showed her gentleness:

"... although neither quite knew what caring and tenderness were, they succeeded because they very much wanted to."

[vermilionsun]

As promised, here is the Mhin/Vere Hate Sex Oneshot, well-cooked and served on a silver platter. Enjoy <3

Word count: 3.5k Rating: Explicit Fandom: Touchstarved (Red Spring Studio) Categories: Other Relationships: Mhin/Vere, Mhin & Vere, Vere & Leander, Mhin & Leander Tags: Hate Sex, Smut, PWOP, Rough sex, Fingering, Biting, Dirty Talk, Against the wall, Jumbled dynamics, Top Vere, Power Bottom Mhin, Forced Proximity (kinda), Poor Leander

The night was young as patrons made their way down to the Amaryllis district, crowding the streets and specifically, once again, the Wet Wick. The sound of laughter and music filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere that drew people from all corners of Lowtown.

Mhin arrived at the bar just as the sunlight disappeared behind the horizon. They looked over the pub with disdain; it was already bustling with people.

Mhin slid into the establishment, immediately assaulted by the pungent blend of cheap alcohol, sweat, and overpowering cologne that permeated the air.

Leander had switched with the bartender, and on the counter was Vere, nonchalantly sitting cross-legged, blabbering about his latest escapades in the city to anyone who would listen while sipping on a glass of wine.

Mhin pinched the bridge of their nose and let out a soft groan before reluctantly approaching the counter. They begrudgingly took a seat on an empty stool on the other side of the bar, trying to make themselves as small as possible.

Vere's eyes narrowed as he spotted Mhin, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he observed their deliberate attempt to place some distance between themselves and him.

With a feigned casualness, Vere spun around so that he was facing Mhin directly. "Look at what the cat dragged in," he said with a playful tone. He leaned against the counter, his eyes locking with theirs for a breath.

As he finished serving a customer, Leander glanced toward the newcomer. A slight smirk tugged at his mouth as he saw their slumped physique. "Rough day?" He asked in a low voice.

Mhin rolled their eyes before looking up at Leander with a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. "When is it not? I came for the payment, nothing more." They spoke in a clipped tone, their gaze drifting over to Vere briefly, then back to Leander.

Vere leaned back against the countertop, his arms crossed over his chest, as he watched the exchange between Mhin and Leander with a thinly veiled curiosity. He called out to the pair with a jocularity that was almost mocking. "Oh, don't mind me; I'm just enjoying the show."

Mhin shot a glare at Vere before turning back to Leander, clearly irritated by the interruption. "Let's get this over with," they muttered. "I have places to be." 

Leander raised an eyebrow, noting the faint shadows under their eyes and the tension in their posture. "Ah, right to business as usual. Always one for small talk, aren't you?" He teased.

"I've got it all ready at the back for you—don't go anywhere." Leander pushed himself away from the counter, making his way towards the back of the bar. "Though, I doubt you were planning to," he added with a hint of humor in his voice.

He rummaged around for a moment but was stopped when a panicked acquaintance of his ran up to him, breathless and frantic. "Leander, you have to come quick! There's trouble on the main street," they exclaimed, their eyes wide with fear.

Leander's smile slipped from his face, replaced by a look of intense focus. His eyes hardened, and he turned to face them fully. "Trouble, you say?" he asked seriously. "What kind of trouble?" Simultaneously, faint echoes of shouting and crashing could be heard from outside the bar. 

Mhin didn't even bother to pretend to be disinterested. Trouble in Lowtown was nothing new, but the unexpected interruption left a sour taste in their mouth.

Leander straightened up, cursing under his breath as he grabbed his coat and gave his acquaintance a nod.

The door burst open, and a horde of frantic individuals flooded in, unleashing a cacophony of chaos as the street's turmoil spilled into the tavern. People were knocking over tables and screaming in panic, sending drinks and debris flying through the air. Leander sprang into action, pushing his way through the panicked crowd to assess the situation.

Meanwhile, Mhin found themselves being pushed around in the mayhem, struggling to keep their balance as they tried to make their way towards the nearest exit. They lunged towards the nearest door, propelled into a small storage room by the relentless force of the crowd, the door slamming shut and locking behind them.

Mhin stumbled inside, landing less than gracefully against a pile of crates. They let out a soft grunt of annoyance as they dusted themselves off and tried to open the door handle with no particular luck. 

"Fantastic," they muttered sarcastically under their breath to no one in particular, their irritation growing by the second. 

They whirled around, frantically scouring their cramped surroundings for any possible exit, their eyes darting in a wild search for a way out. The tiny room was cramped and dimly lit, filled with bottles and miscellaneous supplies.

When their eyes landed in the left corner, they were met with large pink glowing pupils and a fluffy red tail lodging in the shadows—Vere.

"And of course, it had to be you." They took a deep breath, trying to maintain their composure.

"Well, fate has a curious way of bringing people together, doesn't it? Even those of us who would prefer to stay far apart." The man purred lowly, his eyes narrowing in amusement as he slowly emerged from the shadows.

Mhin's eyes followed Vere's movements as they leaned against the wall, creating as much distance between themselves and Vere as the small room allowed, crossing their arms defensively. "I don't believe in fate," they retorted dryly, their gaze never leaving Vere. "Just bad luck."

Vere chuckled darkly, advancing with deliberate steps towards Mhin; narrowing the gap between them, arms loosely draped at his side, exuding an air of calculated confidence. "Bad luck, fate, coincidence—call it whatever you want. Either way, we're stuck in here together, whether we like it or not."

Mhin tensed as Vere drew closer and fixed him with a scowling glare, their voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, it's an absolute pleasure. Trapped in a tiny room with a pompous smartass. Just what I always dreamed of."

Vere feigned a look of mock offense, placing his hand over his heart as if wounded by their words. "Oh, I'm hurt. You really know how to flatter me. But don't worry, I won't let your scathing wit get to me." He leaned against the wall directly beside Mhin, his proximity causing him to brush against them slightly.

Mhin tensed, the brief contact sending a shiver down their spine. They tried to hide their discomfort and keep their cool, but the close confines of the storage room made it increasingly difficult. They shot Vere a glare, their voice dripping with annoyance. "Do you always invade people's personal space like this, or am I just lucky?"

Vere relished in the fact that he was getting under their skin, even if it was just a little bit. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, darling. I'm this close to you because there's nowhere else to go. Unless you'd prefer, we stand back-to-back in this glorified shoebox."

Mhin clenched their teeth, their annoyance growing with every word that left Vere's mouth. They couldn't decide what bothered them more—his close proximity or his infuriatingly casual use of the term 'darling.'

"I'd prefer you just shut your mouth. And don't call me 'darling' ever again."

Vere could practically see the steam coming off of them, and it only fueled his desire to rile them up further. He feigned innocence, his smirk faltering for a moment before returning full force. "Oh, why? Does it make you uncomfortable, darling?" He said the word again intentionally, his voice dripping with a mock show of affection. He leaned in closer, closing the remaining space between them; their bodies almost pressed together.

Mhin's breath caught in their throat, their heart rate quickening despite their best efforts to stay calm. They could feel the heat radiating from Vere's body against theirs, a mix of irritation and nervousness coursing through them.

"Back. Off." They warned through clenched teeth; the tension between them nearly palpable.

He ignored their warning and instead moved even closer, his body now fully pressed against theirs. He leaned in until his face was mere inches from Mhin's, their breaths mingling together in the confined space. "Make me, darling."

Mhin's pulse was racing now, their breath coming in short bursts. Their mind was a tangle of emotions—frustration, irritation—but, to their horror, a hint of something else they refused to acknowledge.

They scowled at him, their voice shaking slightly. "Don't test me."

But Vere only chuckled in response, the sound sending a shiver down Mhin's spine. His eyes bore into theirs, a mix of challenge and something darker lurking beneath the surface. As much as they wanted to push him away, a part of them was inexplicably drawn to his intensity. It was a dangerous game they were playing, one that could have consequences they weren't prepared for.

"Oh, but where's the fun in that? You're so amusing when you're all worked up like this, darling." The foxian deliberately placed his hands on Mhin's waist.

In a swift motion, Mhin retracted their dagger, pushing it against Vere's pulse point, right above his collar, heart pounding in their chest as they tried to steady their hands, their jaw clenched tight.

"I warned you. Don't... touch me." They seethed, the words punctuated by ragged breaths.

Vere didn't flinch, didn't show a hint of fear or intimidation, and held Mhin's gaze, his voice calm and steady. "Is that supposed to scare me? Do you know how easily—" Vere's hands that rested on Mhin's side now squeeze them threateningly, "—I could snap you in half?"

"You wouldn't dare." They finally breathed out, their voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

"Oh, but I would. You have no idea what I'm capable of." He leaned in closer, the tip of his nose practically grazing their cheek.

"Are you really going to risk confrontation with Kuras?"

Vere paused, his ears giving an angry twitch at their words. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face for a brief moment before being masked by his usual cocky smirk. He leaned back slightly, though his grip on Mhin stayed firm, still pinning them against the wall. His tone lost its playful edge, his voice took on a more serious tone. "Risk? Please. Kuras doesn't frighten me."

"Even without the collar, you're no match for him," Mhin continued, their tone shifting to a more confident one. They pressed their dagger a little harder against his skin, a small bead of blood forming where the blade made contact. "And you know it."

Vere's expression hardened at their words, his smirk faltering. He bit back a wince and swallowed visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You insolent little killjoy—"

Mhin leaned in a little closer, their warm breath tickling his ear. "Oh, am I getting under your skin, darling?" They mocked, using his own phrase against him.

He parted his lips to retaliate, yet the subtle nuances in their expression, the mirroring of his earlier jeering, caused a momentary hesitation to creep into his response. He clenched his jaw, his hands reflexively tightening around Mhin's sides again. "You're asking for it, you little brat."

"Oh, am I? And what are you going to do about it? You're all bark, no bite."

Vere's fingers dug deeper into their sides, his grip nearing bruising. "You haven't seen just how much bite I have."

A faint gasp of surprise escaped Mhin as they tried to keep up their bravado, albeit breathlessly.  "Is that so? Go ahead, then. Show me." They challenged, their voice barely above a whisper.

Fuck it.

Mhin felt the air leave their lungs in a shaky gasp as their lips crashed into Vere's, their free hand grabbing his collar to pull him closer, pressing their body against his in a desperate bid for more. The other let out a low, guttural moan, one hand leaving Mhin's side to tangle in their hair, his fingers fisting in the strands as he deepened the kiss.

Vere released their sides, instead wrapping his arms around Mhin's waist and pulling them flush against him. Mhin dropped their dagger with a clatter on the floor, both hands gripping his shirt now as they pressed themselves fully against him, their body molding against his in a desperate attempt to merge into one being. Vere tilted their head back, his tongue slipping between their lips, demanding and insistent, tasting them with a fervor and desire he had never even considered possible before.

Vere's hands shamelessly roamed underneath Mhin's shirt, feeling the smooth skin of their back beneath his fingertips. Mhin bit back a whimper as Vere's kisses trailed down their neck, sending shivers down their spine. Mhin's jaw tightened as they tried to suppress the moans building in their throat, their body arching into Vere's touch. 

Vere nipped and nibbled at the sensitive flesh of Mhin's neck, the urgency of his actions only growing more pronounced. A soft gasp escaped their lips as he found a particularly sensitive spot, their head falling back to give him more room to explore. The taste of their skin, mingling with the faint, lingering smell of lavender, was intoxicating. Vere wanted more, needed more. And he wasn't going to hold back any longer.

His hands slid lower, the tips of his fingers tracing the curve of their spine as he continued his assault on their neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. “God above, you’re going to kill me,” he breathes, his lips brushing against their jawline. "You're so damn responsive, darling," he growled against their neck, his voice low and hoarse.

"Shut. Up." They managed to gasp out, their voice laced with a mixture of irritation and raw need. They tried to maintain some semblance of control, but it was slipping through their fingers with each kiss and touch.

Vere chuckled against their skin; his lips curled into a smug smirk. "You make it so easy for me," he nibbled gently at their earlobe, his hips rolling into theirs.

Mhin bit down on their lip to stifle more sounds threatening to come out, their hands clenched into fists against his shoulders as they tried to keep themselves grounded.

They wanted to come up with a witty comeback, to say something to wipe that smug expression off his face, but the words died on their tongue. "Bastard..." They whined in a futile attempt.

Vere let out a low, dark chuckle, his smug smile widening. "That's right, darling. I am a bastard. A cocky, self-assured, devilishly handsome bastard."

"Arrogant. Self-centered. Insufferable." They managed to gasp out, their voice trembling. They hated how their body reacted to his touch—they hated how much they wanted him, and how desperately they craved more.

"You forgot charming. And talented. All things I've been called before. And yet, you still want me, don't you, darling?" Vere's hands moved lower, tracing the curves of their hips as he slowly started getting rid of the fabrics that restricted his access.

They closed their eyes, biting back another moan. They wanted to deny it, but the way their body reacted to his touch betrayed them. "I... hate you." They managed to gasp out, their voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of desire and frustration. 

One of his hands slowly wandered down their side, his fingers tracing a lazy path along their ribs, roaming lower and gripping their thighs. "The feeling's mutual." 

Mhin trembled under his touch, their entire body hyper-aware of every point of contact. "You're a menace… a smug, arrogant, insatiable..." They tried to speak, but their words trailed off into a gasp as Vere's fingers entered them.

Vere's fingers started moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He leaned in to whisper in their ear. "Go on, darling. Finish the sentence. Say it."

Mhin's breath hitched as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over their ear, sending goosebumps down their spine. "You're... arrogant, infuriating, and completely and utterly..." They trailed off, biting their lip to hold back a moan, chest rising and falling rapidly. "Utterly… fucking irresistible."

Vere chuckled darkly, a satisfied smirk on his face, as he heard the words leave their lips. He continued his ministrations, his fingers moving and working within them with increasing insistence and pace. "That's right, darling. Say it again. Let me hear you say it." He purred.

Mhin's breathing grew ragged as his fingers continued to move with increasing speed, their body arching against his hand.  They could feel the heat pooling in their lower belly. "Fuck you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, darling?" He teased, his fingers curling slightly as he continued his ministrations, driving them closer and closer to the edge.

"Damn you."

"Oh, you're just making this more fun for me, darling. Keep cursing at me. Tell me how much you hate me while you writhe and moan in my arms."

Mhin let out a strangled gasp as Vere's hand suddenly withdrew, their body clenching around the sudden absence, unfulfilled and frustrated. They were so close—so close to the release that they desperately craved.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, darling."

"I hate you… I hate you so much…" They heaved, their chest rising and falling rapidly as they tried to catch their breath.

"Mmm," Vere murmured against their skin, tracing leisurely patterns on their skin. "I can feel just how much you hate me, darling."

Mhin felt their last shred of restraint snap, their body taking control. They grabbed his collar, pulling him closer, their lips crashing into his in a ferocious kiss. "Damn you." They gasped out, their voice trembling. "Damn you for making me want you like this." Their fingers dug into his flesh as they pushed him against the wall, reversing their positions. "Just shut up," they growled, their voice thick with longing, "and fuck me, or I swear to the gods above, you won't live another fucking day."

Vere's eyes widened momentarily at the sudden shift in power, a gasp escaping him as his back hit the wall with a thud.

A beat.

With a swift, fluid movement, Vere flipped them back around, pinning Mhin against the wall, their bodies pressed tightly together. He held them firmly, one of his hands gripping their wrists and holding them above their head. "You don't have to tell me twice, darling."

Vere didn't waste any more time, his free hand working to position his dick at Mhin's entrance, pushing inside without warning, causing the latter to leave a loud, drawn out moan as pleasure shot through their body, their head falling back against the wall.. "That's it," Vere whispered, his voice low and husky, "just like that."

Mhin's hands gripped onto Vere's shoulders, nails digging into his skin as they moved together in a rhythm that was both frantic and primal. The air was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and the slick, wet noise of their bodies moving against each other. Vere's hands roamed Mhin's body, tracing every curve and dip with a hunger that bordered on despair. Mhin's nails dug into Vere's back, leaving red marks in their wake as they clung to each other. Vere lifted his head just enough to watch Mhin's face contort with pleasure, their lips parted in a silent scream. Every thrust sent a shock of ecstasy through both of them, pushing them closer and closer to the edge.

As they reached their peak, Vere's name fell from Mhin's lips in hoarse whispers like a mantra, a prayer to a fallen god that neither of them believed in, even if one's name was whispered in return.

Many hours later, Leander had finally settled the matter and restored order to the tavern, but the unexpected interruption had certainly left its mark on the evening. As he sat back down at his table, Leander couldn't help but feel a sense of unease lingering in the air. He had forgotten something, he was sure of it.

He shooed away the thought, opting to replace some of the broken bottles in the bar. As he walked to the storage closet near the bar, he made a mental note to double-check the basement inventory later, just to be safe.

He fumbled with the doorknob, only to realize it was jammed. With a sigh, he used a magic spell to unlock the door. The moment it flung open, a familiar, hooded figure darted past him and out into the early morning. He stood there, stunned for a moment, when lighter footsteps approached from behind him.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Most people would treat me to something after a night like that," Vere stretched as he walked past the bewildered man, a mischievous grin on his face. "But I suppose I'll let it slide this time," he added with a wink before disappearing into the early light outside.

[ddwcaph-game]

Progress Update

Hello everyone! I know this is a bit late, but Happy Pride Month! 🌈

I actually have something relevant to share: I'll be adding demigender and bi/multigender to the gender options in the next update! Not only that, but you will now also be able to pick your twin's pronouns separately, along with the option to choose multiple pronouns for them.

The cis and questioning options are now separate, similar to how you choose MC's gender. I hope the wording above is alright, but from top to bottom, it's Trans, Non-binary, Demigender, Bi/Multigender, and Genderfluid.

The multiple pronoun option has also been improved so that it's actually randomized at certain intervals, and is no longer limited to two pronouns. You will now also be able to change your twin's pronouns in the stats screen if they are genderfluid (thanks to the locket's empathy/telepathy powers). Speaking of, I'm thinking of adding custom pronouns too when I port the game to VN, but no promises.

Anyway, sorry again for the delays! Aside from me getting sick and having computer problems again, I have a habit of suddenly getting more ideas just as I'm about to finish an update. This is why I don't even give estimated dates anymore. 😅

More info about the next update below:

Since I'm adding F6E's reactions to MC's ancestry, I'm also taking the time to add some banter about MC's favorite genre.

Besides that, I'm currently working on an addition to Roselyna's BFF scene, and I can't not add it because it's very important to her character development. As in, she probably wouldn't have ran away during the storm if this particular event didn't happen. Her emotional level will now also determine whether she lets Wayne (and MC) continue calling Josie mommy or not.

I also had to overhaul the pronoun system to get the new stuff to work. It's a lot more work than you might realize, but it's worth it because I found lots of bugs, and it actually got simpler, even with the new randomizing feature.

And since I'm updating the variables, I also took the time to change most of the mom/dad/ate/kuya variables to actually use the translated terms if you choose to have a twin language (in the narration, diary, and during private conversation).

I'm also adding new and very fun choices to the existing chapters which will add a new layer to your decision making. Yup, the "plot hole" in the title will actually make sense now. 🤭

There's also lots of other smaller things. Lots of them. The change log is over 300 lines now. But here's a tiny snippet from Lily's BFF scene before I go back to the editing mines:

"Let's talk about that later. We're almost at the station." Tita Rickie slaps Tita Dani's arm. "So turn off that damn underglow before you forget. You really had to install those, huh?" "C'mon, Rickie. Of all the things I could add, this is by far the least illegal one," Tita Dani grumbles as she stops the SUV near Barangay 143's police station.

(By the way, I'm currently updating the Trinkets and Secrets Guide in preparation for the next update. Don't be surprised if some of the stuff in there is incompatible with the current demo!)

[anghraine]

I've talked a lot about Númenórean aging throughout the Second and Third Ages having its own distinct process. But occasionally I have a fridge horror thought about it with regard to Pharazôn that I've talked about less.

First, the aging context (feel free to ignore if you already know!): according to LOTR, UT, and NOME, Númenórean aging is distinct from (but related to) both Elvish and normal human aging. Like other humans, Númenóreans physically age at a "standard" pace until reaching adulthood. After this, they age more like Elves—very slowly, only showing signs of old age/decay either at the very end of their lives or under enormous strain.

Denethor in LOTR is not an exception to this, but an example of what "something has gone wrong" looks like. Everyone in LOTR thinks it's weird that Denethor, who is clearly not dying (he can still wear armor 24/7 and wield a sword), looks like an old man at the spry age of 89 and started showing these signs in his 60s. It is broadly—and correctly—assumed in Minas Tirith that he's prematurely aged by mental combat with Sauron, although Sauron never does manage to dominate his mind.

Tangent: This is actually important because Tolkien explained (mainly in UT) Gandalf's urgency wrt Minas Tirith in direct relation to Númenórean aging and Denethor. By the time of LOTR, Gandalf knows 1) even contemporary Dúnedain do not ordinarily show signs of physical decay so early, 2) they especially don't in Denethor's family; Gandalf doesn't know the genealogical details but he can tell they're descendants of Elros, making this doubly weird, and 3) the Stewards very likely have the palantír of Minas Tirith in their possession. So Gandalf put the clues together and guessed that Denethor's premature decay was from using the Anor-stone and tangling with Sauron. Gandalf feared that Denethor had essentially pulled a Saruman and been dominated by Sauron, which is part of why he was so anxious on the ride to Minas Tirith. (Even more tangentially: Denethor read this fear in him and apparently found it both deeply offensive and very funny.)

ANYWAY, the point is that this extremely delayed aging process in which physical old age is a sign of impending death still characterizes Númenóreans that late, unless something very strange is going on. It would definitely be the normal process for Númenóreans throughout the entire Second Age, even given the contracting lifespans of the later years.

We also know that one of the factors that led to Pharazôn's disastrous assault on Aman was the onset of old age. This would not simply be a reminder of his mortality for a Númenórean, least of all one from the (honestly rather inbred) line of Elros. It meant he would soon die. If he'd followed the old royal custom of giving up his life when he felt death approach, he might well be dead already. Instead, he's in the "decay" stage and visibly aging.

The point is not that you should feel sorry for Pharazôn. It is very much not that.

No. The point is that Pharazôn was an old man by this time and likely would have looked it.

Meanwhile, here's the Akallabêth's final description of Tar-Míriel, the daughter of the last Faithful king of Númenor and Pharazôn's own first cousin, whom he stripped of hereditary power and forced into marriage:

And last of all the mounting wave, green and cold and plumed with foam, climbing over the land, took to its bosom Tar-Míriel the Queen, fairer than silver or ivory or pearls.

Of course, in Tolkien's treatment, age and beauty do not have to be mutually exclusive. But it really doesn't sound like Míriel was in the final state of decay (and lbr, she didn't have a lot of reason to cling to life beyond the natural end of her lifespan anyway).

Moreover, the shortening of Númenórean lifespans in the Second Age was directly linked to estrangement from Eru/the Valar/their friends among the Elves and hoarding resources and power while developing a paranoid obsession with death. Tolkien said this outright, but also the dates we do have for the Faithful Lords of Andúnië indicate significantly longer lifespans than the later kings of Númenor, their cousins. So if Míriel was privately Faithful, it would be entirely probable for her natural lifespan to far outstrip Pharazôn's.

I do know about the alternate draft Tolkien considered where Míriel was on Team Pharazôn and totally wanted to surrender her power and enter an illegal incestuous marriage, but I agree with Christopher Tolkien that this seems to have been discarded in favor of the purely tragic Míriel of the published Akallabêth. (I also think it's a terrible idea, honestly, that does not fit the overall narrative nearly as well as the Silm's Míriel, tragic as her story is.)

Sometimes I wonder about how the Pharazôn and Míriel of the Akallabêth perceived each other over the years, though. The entire marriage is a nightmare, but I've wondered if he saw her as initially a sort of prize, a possession of great value to adorn his reign—a jewel, even. I've wondered how much Míriel dared, how much she could dare, what the stakes for her really were. And I also wonder what the marriage looked like as Míriel remained delicate, beautiful, and apparently ageless while Pharazôn conspicuously decayed.

The disparity might not have seemed all that significant at first, since Númenórean women typically had longer lifespans than the men anyway (all else being equal). But as time went on and Pharazôn became an old man, obsessed with aging and death, while "fairer than silver" Tar-Míriel remained trapped at his side, I do wonder what the dynamics of that marriage really would have been.

And of course, there'd be Sauron at his other side, notoriously fair and even more truly ageless, willing to exploit any leverage available. I've never envisioned the situation as anything but dreadful, but now I'm like ... yikes.

That said, I'm still fond of the version of Míriel I wrote in 2013:

She firmly puts that and all else out of her mind when Sauron comes to speak with her, eyes frozen and piercing, words honeyed. But the sea is coming and she cannot see beyond it, and Pharazôn is gone with his armies, and that grants her a courage she had thought crushed out of her in all her years of suffering. "I am Tar-Míriel, Queen of Númenórë," she says defiantly, "and you are naught but master of lies and thralls. Step aside or the wrath of the Valar will fall on you once more, and they are in no mood to hear your pleas!" He’s so completely taken aback to be challenged by little Zimraphel that he does take a step back and she runs on ahead to the Meneltarma, laughing. "It shall fall on you still! May you enjoy the fruits of your labours, Tar-Gorthaur!"

[itstimeforstarwars]

I now understand the working for retail store to working for their vendors pipeline.

[carlyraejepsans]

for real WHERE does the idea that [utdr humans] are nongendered so that "you can project on them" come from. their literal character arcs are about NOT being a blank slate to be filled in by the audience

i think i understand the assumption on some level for undertale, because there is a very intentional effort to make you identify with the "player character" in order to make your choices feel like your own (the beating heart of undertale's metanarrative lies in giving you an alternative path to violence against its enemies after all, and whether you're still willing to persue it for your own selfish reasons. YOUR agency is crucial).

of course, the cardinal plot twist of the main ending sweeps the rug from under your feet on that in every way, and frisk's individuality becomes, in turn, a tool to further UT's OTHER main theme: completionism as a form of diegetic violence within the story. replaying the game would steal frisk's life and happy ending from them for our own perverse sentimentality, emotionally forcing our hand away from the reset button.

i think their neutrality absolutely aids in that immersion. but also, there's this weird attitude by (mostly) cis fans where it being functional within the story makes it... somehow "editable" and "up to the player" as well? which is gross and shows their ass on how they approach gender neutrality in general lol.

but also like. there's plenty of neutral, non PCharacters in undertale and deltarune. even when undertale was just an earthbound fangame and the player immersion metanarrative was completely absent, toby still described frisk as a "young, androgynous person". sometimes characters are just neutral by design. it's not that hard to understand lol.

anyone who makes this argument for kris deltarune is braindead. nothing else to say about it.

[gideonisms]

See I think if I'd been born a guy I wouldn't be this pathologically avoidant trying to plan my career because there are plenty of situations you can find as a cis man where you just Do Tasks in awkward silence and you can get to those as a woman but you have to go through the rings of hell socializing first and then besides, a lot of those jobs already have so many men that you stand out when the whole point was you Don't want to do that

[born-to-lose]

I know the working conditions were kinda shitty and my colleagues and bosses didn't appreciate me enough but damn I miss the bar already 😭