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@agnessispunk
Hoje faço 9 anos de Tumblr! 🥳
ITS TOO MUCH PEDRO PASCAL CONTENT, 2025
thank you, the bear season 4 🙏
A very well-known stranger- Chef Luca (The Bear) x F!Reader
Summary: You hate Chef Luca, so to avoid feeling alone, you make a virtual friend in Copenhagen, why does he seem so familiar to you?
Tw: Masturbation,Voyuerism,Insults.
A/N: Hello!!! It's been a long time since I wrote something for tumblr, I'm late on the post but this is the first one shot from the July writing challenge I'm doing with my best friend @machinetemplevs, I hope you like it.
From the time you were old enough to slip into your grandmother's kitchen, baking became your personal paradise. All your problems disappeared between a mountain of macarons or layers of puff pastry.
When Carmy sent you to Copenhagen with Marcus, you were elated to meet the renowned Chef Luca and learn everything you could from him, a magical glow that seemed to light up the city streets.
However, this quickly disappeared as soon as you set foot in the bakery.
Luca was extremely full of himself, telling you how he could produce everything of the day without making a mistake, laughing whenever you missed the slightest detail, leaving you out of the production when something he didn't like happened.
Fuck him, fuck his inflated ego, fuck his baking skills, fuck his damn blond hair that always looks tidy, even in the early hours of the morning, fuck his firm hands that knead to perfection, fuck his green eyes that shine like two emeralds.
You didn't notice the line your thoughts were following, opening and cutting the dough in automatic mode, until the heavy voice sounded behind you, too close.
"I need this ready for today, Tootsie."
You frowned at the nickname, looking at Luca over your shoulder with a deadly glare, before continuing your work. He did it to tease you, knowing that you had warned him that he wasn't allowed to call you that.
“Did the cat eat your tongue?” Luca asked, and even with his back turned, you knew he had that damn smug grin on his face. "That last row is way out of proportion, Tootsie."
Finishing cutting the last piece, you threw it into the baking dish and pushed the edge over his chest.
"Do it yourself then, and preferably go to hell Chef."
Your words echoed as you walked out of the room, heading for the rest area. This pursuit of Luca was irritating you to the extreme, seeping under your skin like a disease, everything made you want to go back to the States and forget all about Copenhagen. And then your cell phone vibrated in your apron pocket.
Well, almost everything.
Your hands reached for the phone and you opened the message automatically, being greeted by his reply.
05:19 AM
You could just tell him to fuck off, it's what I'd do.
A little smile appeared on her face and youtyped a quick reply for him.
05:20 AM
LOL. I just did that, it didn't make him any less of an idiot.
You don't know who he is, or even his face, but none of that seemed to matter. You were feeling very lonely in Copenhagen, of the two people you knew, one was very focused on learning from the “Chef” and the other you hated, so a chat app with people close to you didn't seem like a bad idea.
Then you met him and the conversation magically flowed. He knew as much about confectionery as you did, loved Tarantino movies and was the kindest man in the world, the subject never seemed to end between you, and you both became extremely attached to each other.
And that sent a chill down your spine.
In a few weeks' time, you'd be back on American soil and you'd probably never return to Denmark. The fear of starting something on a melancholy note, knowing that an end was imminent, paralyzed you, and then, as much as you felt a vibrant desire to meet the incredible man on the other side, your fear cowed you into keeping everything the way it is.
05:28 AM
"I could say something to that idiot. Let me know if he continues to torment you."
You threw yourself back on the padded seat, smiling too much at the cell phone.
***********************************************************
He knew exactly how to get to you, how to provoke you into melting into a needy puddle.
And that's what he was doing now. You could feel the way your panties were soaked, your legs rubbing together to get some kind of friction that didn't do much to extinguish the growing flame inside your core.
02:29 PM
You must taste divine, I'd definitely be hooked.
02:31 PM
I'd love to eat you on the store counter, where any customer could come in and see you, see me tasting the best dessert on the menu.
02:32 PM
Jesus, I'd make you cum all over my face.
Frustrated, you let out a little muffled moan, tired of being teased, in a place where you couldn't even touch yourself to relieve your hard-on.
02:36 PM
You're a teasing little shit, but I bet must be more needy than me right now.
02:38 PM
I doubt it darling. Even from a distance, I know your pussy is begging for me..
"Smug asshole."-You muttered to yourself in the empty kitchen, leaving your cell phone open next to you as you finished counting the items in the stock.
Suddenly, an idea blossomed in your mind. Looking both ways, you made sure Marcus or Luca weren't around and grabbed your cell phone, walking in quick steps to the bathroom and locking the door behind you. You had never exchanged any kind of photo, but the idea of surprising him to punish all the teasing seemed extremely tempting.
In one pull, the dark blue shirt was removed from her body and thrown onto the white tiled floor, lowering her apron to navel level and undoing the fastening that held her bra in place.
Your breasts were exposed to the cold air, nipples already aroused by the previous provocation. Opening the camera, you searched for a good angle for a few minutes, until the picture was finally taken.
Your skin glowed under the yellowish light, casting an even more sinful glow over the photo, your left breast was under your hand in a firm grip, while the other was free for his eyes.
You sent it before you could regret it, making a teasing comment before getting dressed and heading back to the kitchen.
However, on the other side of the bakery, someone wasn't as composed as they should have been.
Luca's tiny office seemed even smaller with all the lust in the air, his hair, which was always neat, was in an unruly mess of blond curls, green orbs almost completely covered in black.
He knew he shouldn't let himself be affected by someone he didn't really know, but you had ignited something inside him, from the first moment they started talking, from the moment the conversation took a more sensual turn, he had wanted you without even knowing what you were like.
And now he knew, and that was the ruin of the last bit of common sense he had left.
One hand was resting on the wooden table, while his tattooed arm flexed, stroking the weeping, painfully hard cock in his other hand. Eyes half-closed, he refused to miss the sight of her breasts imprinted on his cell phone screen.
"Fucking beautiful." -He said between quick breaths. -"So beautiful, just for me."
The speed increased, his whole body trembling in boiling anticipation, that heat growing and radiating, about to explode. When Luca brushed his thumb across the pink tip, moist with pre-semen, he felt like he might come at any moment.
And then he saw it, the little tootsie-shaped brooch pinned to the apron, the one he was sure he knew very well because it was the color of all his aprons. The shock immediately made his blood run cold, his eyes go wide as he took two steps backwards, slamming his back against the wall.
He couldn't believe it was you, it couldn't be. You were stubborn, obstinate, hated obeying orders and hated him even more, the complete opposite of the person he had been talking to for the last few weeks.
Before Luca could fully process what had happened and pull himself together, the office door opened, his figure appearing through the crack in the door.
"I've finished the stock report, chef." -You said, not yet having seen the scene in front of you. -"Next time you should--OH."
The words died on your lips the moment you saw him, unable to take your eyes off the spot where Luca was still paralyzed, his cock still firmly in his big hands.
As huge as it was, at that moment Luca just wanted it to shrink until it disappeared completely, to avoid that embarrassing situation.
However, everything got ten times worse when his eyes went down to his phone open on the table, his own photo printed on the screen.
You lunged forward without thinking, grabbing his cell phone and looking at your image there, recorded, printed out for him to see, the image you had forwarded to someone else. The realization hit you too, and you went back to the conversation, only to see the racy messages you two had exchanged earlier.
Your heart almost flew out of your mouth with nervousness when you turned to him and said:
"What the fuck is going on?"
Chef Luca x Reader (The bear)
Raiting: +18
Tw: SMUT, Voyeurism, jealous, public sex, piv, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, bratt reader, dom!Luca
Sumary: Where you accompany Luca to Ever's farewell dinner and tease him into fucking you.
"Which earrings do you think go best with this dress?" you ask, watching Luca on the other side of the bed fixing his hair. He checks himself in the mirror again and then looks at you, holding two types of earrings in each hand, while he rolls up the sleeves of his black shirt to his elbows.
"I think the second one... it's more discreet. I think," he replies, looking at you expectantly, as if hoping he's right. You stare at the earring thoughtfully, shrug, and then put it on, looking back in the mirror.
You smooth out your black dress as you check that you are presentable for the event you are attending with Luca — the closing of an important restaurant. You didn't know there were ceremonies for this kind of thing, but since you started dating a chef, you discovered that the world of gastronomy is made up of silent rituals.
You feel Luca's tall figure approaching, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind as his face nestles into your neck.
"You look so beautiful, darling... God help me not to keep you here with me," he murmurs, kissing your skin and eliciting sighs and laughter from you as he gives you space for more kisses.
"I wouldn't complain. But I need to make it worth it to debut these heels you gave me. And, by the way..." You turn your body, making Luca step back to face you, with a hungry look that darkens his eyes. "I need to be elegant enough to pretend I know something about cooking, since I'm going to be facing several great chefs. Like you."
He snorts, smiling.
"You don't have to worry about that. The table we'll be at has people who are talented but kind-hearted. No snobby chefs who will scare my wife."
"So you'll stay by my side all night?"
"I won't leave your side for a second."
"I don't doubt it, with this neckline I'm wearing," you tease, raising your eyebrows.
He laughs and looks directly at your bust.
"That's a great incentive. I'll wait for you in the living room so we can go," says Luca, giving your butt a light slap before leaving the room.
You bite your lip, watching that figure dressed all in black, his muscles pressing against his perfectly fitted shirt. Just looking at him makes you wet. Of course, you'd rather be at home with him, indulging in couple activities instead of facing a sea of strangers in expensive suits and inflated egos. But for him, you'd go anywhere.
Still... you haven't ruled out what you've been planning since you put on that dress. A dress that hugged your body in an almost cruel way. And especially since you decided not to wear panties — without him having a clue.
You grab your purse, check your lipstick in the mirror, and leave the room to meet the blond man. Luca is in the living room, fiddling with his phone while he waits. As soon as he sees you, he looks up — and freezes.
"Fuck..." he murmurs with a low smile, putting his phone away and approaching you again, as if he were going to touch you but restrained himself out of respect for the impeccable time it took you to get ready. "You're going to have me flustered all night in that dress."
"That's the idea," you tease, smiling slyly, and he laughs, throwing his head back before taking your hand firmly and guiding you to the car.
------
Ever is full of culinary legends. It's a luxurious wake for a historic restaurant, with silent waiters, impeccable glasses, and dishes served like art. You're dazzled by the atmosphere, but also nervous. Until Luca holds your hand firmly.
"Come on. Everyone's already seated."
You're led to one of the main tables. When you arrive, you immediately recognize a face: Carmen Berzatto. Carmy. You know him from stories Luca has told you—and from the internet, of course.
He looks tense, scanning the room with the analytical eyes of someone who never switches off.
"Carmy, this is my girlfriend," Luca says casually, introducing you with a discreet smile.
Carmy just nods and murmurs a polite, "Nice to meet you."
You frown and glance discreetly at Luca, wanting some sign that something went wrong, to which the blond just shakes his head, silently asking you to ignore Carmy's behavior.
Soon after, Luca points to the woman next to him — with her hair tied back and an attentive gaze.
"This is Syd. Sydney. She's brilliant."
"Oh, I've heard of you," you say sincerely, extending your hand. Sydney smiles, surprised and shy, quickly shaking your hand.
"Luca exaggerates... But thank you."
You settle in, and for a few minutes everything seems to flow normally. The appetizers begin to arrive, and the conversation revolves around restaurants closing, nostalgic memories, and cooking techniques.
Luca delves deep into a conversation about fermentation and sauces with two renowned chefs. Meanwhile, you notice the insistent gaze of the chef on your left — younger, handsome, confident. He smiles.
"First time at a dinner like this?"
"Is it that obvious?" you reply with a smile, swirling your wine glass.
"Not at all. It's just that... you stand out. You don't look like a critic, or a chef. You just... look like the most beautiful woman at the table."
You laugh. A little too loudly. And you feel Luca's hand land on your thigh, under the table.
Strong.
You don't see him, but you hear him clear his throat and continue his conversation with Syd. Then you lean a little closer to the chef next to you.
"My boyfriend is a chef," you say in an almost confidential tone. "He taught me to pretend I understand the basics. Is it working?"
"More than you know."
Luca's hand moves up, his fingers firm against your bare skin.
You feel the heat rising, the game intensifying.
Luca continues talking to his colleagues, but squeezes your thigh harder, warning you. Then, taking advantage of the moment when everyone is distracted by the dish being served, he leans in close to your ear:
"Do you really want to play with me here?"
"I just said I was going to see a mural in the hall..." you exclaim, giving him an innocent look, as if you were the purest creature in the room.
You calmly get up, finishing your glass of wine.
"I saw something beautiful when we arrived. I'm going to take a look."
"Do you want me to come with you?" asks the chef at your side, interested.
Luca glares at him, annoyed by the audacity of the question.
"No, I don't want you to miss the main course."
And you walk away. Knowing that Luca will follow.
------
You barely turn the corner of the hallway when you feel Luca's fingers close around your wrist. Without a word, he pulls you into a side utility room—stainless steel walls, a cabinet of glasses, dim light coming from a frosted window.
The door closes behind you with a click.
"You wanted this, didn't you?" He approaches you, his body pressing yours against the wall.
"Do you think this is funny?" he asks quietly, his voice deep and hoarse. "Playing with me in front of everyone? Laughing at that guy while I'm standing there trying to keep my fucking composure?"
"I was bored. I wanted to see how you would react, chef," you reply, smiling, breathless.
Luca stares at you for two seconds as if he's going to devour you whole.
And then he kisses you.
It's rough, hungry, desperate. He pulls up the hem of your dress abruptly, gasping as he confirms what you've been hiding all night.
"No panties? From the beginning?"
"Since you helped me choose the earrings."
Luca grunts. He lowers his pants and underwear just enough, takes out his hard cock with one hand while turning you around and pinning you against the cold wall.
In one swift movement, he penetrates you — deep, hard, direct. Your moan escapes loudly, but his hand already covers your mouth.
"Be quiet. Do you want someone to come in here? To see you being fucked like the provocative little slut you are?"
You moan against his palm, and he continues thrusting hard, each thrust making your body vibrate against the wall. The sound of his hips slapping echoes softly, muffled by the distant noise from the kitchen.
"You laughed at him, you flirted with him... but look who's inside you now."
He takes his hand away from your mouth for a second.
"Say who."
"You... Luca..."
"Who's going to make you come until you can't walk?"
"You!"
"Say it again."
"You, Luca! You!"
He covers your mouth again, now holding you tight with his arm around your waist. The tension of being discovered makes everything more intense. You hear footsteps on the other side of the door. Someone passing in the hallway... or maybe stopping.
Your eyes close.
You come. Hard, shaking, your moans muffled under his hand.
He thrusts a few more times, deep, almost desperate, until he comes too — with a muffled growl in your neck, his teeth pressing into your skin.
-----
You stay there for a few seconds, panting, sweaty, bodies still pressed together.
Luca kisses your shoulder.
"You're unbearable."
"And you love me," you reply in a weak voice, a dirty smile on your lips.
You both slowly compose yourselves, but the scent between you still gives you away. The crumpled dress, the flushed neck, the sparkle in your eyes. When you return to the table, the chef from earlier looks at you with a curious smile. But before he can say anything, Luca's hand rests on your thigh again — this time in silent warning.
He leans in and whispers:
"If you smile at him again... I'll make you come on my leg during dessert."
🔥 Fanfic JulyTober - special Kinktober of July 🔥
My best @agnessispunk and I had the idea of doing a weekly JulyTober with some selected Kinks.
So keep an eye on the posting dates and which character we'll be doing, and don't miss a thing!
0.0.1 - choose no
GIF of @voidsaez
pairing: Colin Ritman x OC! Reader
Summary: On the day she presents her demo at Tuckersoft, Nessa faces nervousness and strange memories. What should have been just a game presentation turns into the beginning of something much bigger—and stranger.
word count: 3.4k
a/c: I apologize for the delay in posting the first chapter. I recently started writing again and had a million ideas in my head. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE 🤓☝️
A shrill noise pulls me out of a hazy, almost forgotten dream. I shiver from the sudden cold and the ray of sunlight coming through the crack in the curtain. As I turn, I see the red alarm flashing: 8:30 a.m.
I stretch and quickly get out of bed, hurriedly tidying up the blanket. Today is the day. The day I'm going to present my demo to Tuckersoft. A dream — and a challenge.
Today, July 14, 1984. After days of insistent phone calls, talking to secretaries who promised to call back — and never did — I finally got them to listen to me. I'm not sure what made Mohan Thakur change his mind, but he invited me to show him my project. And now, I can't falter.
I'm not going to miss this opportunity to show the work that could mean something big in my life.
In the bathroom, I look at my reflection as I finish washing my face with a mixture of anxiety and focus. As I brush my teeth, flashes of the dream come back. A little boy. Round cheeks, dark hair, lying in a bed too big for him. He looked at me from the bed while I watched him from the door. But... his face is blurred. Impossible to remember clearly.
I finish brushing my teeth, trying to shake off the strange feeling, then open the cabinet behind the mirror and take my vitamins, as usual. At that moment, I hear two knocks on the bedroom door—my father, reminding me that it's been 10 minutes since the alarm went off. It's time to get dressed.
I grab my purse, already packed, and look in the mirror one last time to make sure I'm dressed right for today. I choose dark suede pants and a black turtleneck. Not that it bothers me to be feminine, but in this environment — clearly dominated by men — anything that could make me seem "less reliable" tends to be used against me. It seems unfair, but that's the real world of business today.
I go downstairs for breakfast. At the bottom of the stairs, I come across my father locking the back door, where he keeps his gardening tools. I smile when I see him. I sit down at the table and open the book that inspired my game: Bandersnatch, by Jerome F. Davies.
I must prepare myself for any unforeseen circumstances today in that room where I will demonstrate my demo. Whatever the circumstances, I must show that I know what I'm doing, that I can add value to that company, and that, above all, my project can revolutionize a new form of gaming compared to our era.
I don't notice that my father is watching me until he places my cup of tea in front of me.
"Your tea."
"Thank you, Dad." I reply, sipping the slightly bitter liquid and trying to concentrate. "Today is the day I'm going to present a game to be one of Colin Ritman's games."
"And it's going to be about Bandersnatch? The book you haven't put down since, I don't know, you were 18?" My father exclaims, looking at me confused as he drinks his coffee.
"Yes, it's Jerome F. Davis' book," I confirm, turning my eyes back to the book. "I can't stop reading it because you go back and forth... You decide what the character in the book does."
"You decide the character's path, right?" I see my father get up from his seat, walk over to the counter, grab two boxes of cereal in each hand, and turn to me. "Then you might as well choose your breakfast at least."
"Sugar Puffs," I reply without hesitation, almost automatically.
A slight twinge shoots through my temple.
On the last bus of the route, I find a seat, put on my headphones, and look at the cassette tape options. Lately, I've been listening to Thompson Twins and Eurythmics a lot, and even though I really want to listen to both tracks, I don't have much time, but...
Thompson Twins seems like the right choice today. I put the tape in my Walkman, and Hold Me Now starts playing.
The streets pass by the window like a blur — something inside me can't shake the feeling that I've done this all before. As if I were stuck in a loop. It's the same feeling as continuous déjà vu, it must be some side effect of one of my vitamins, and I try to ignore it.
As I face the imposing Tuckersoft building, I feel the name reflected in the glass like a warning: you have to prove your worth. I close my eyes, summoning my courage before entering, and feel a slight recognition of this. I adjust my coat and enter, identifying myself to the receptionist.
I soon arrive at what appears to be an environment in utter chaos: boxes being carried, employees talking at the same time, mixed sounds of keys, machines, and conversations. I try to get out of the way as discreetly as possible.
In the middle of the hallway, I spot Mohan Thakur—imposing, smiling, gesturing intensely. He hands money to a boy and soon notices me. I straighten up, try to smile, even though my hands are cold.
"Ah, you're Lissa Yorkie?" he exclaims as he opens his arms in a warm and very loud welcome, even though he ignored the fact that he got my name wrong.
"Actually, it's Nessa Yorkie. Nice to meet you." I extend my hand, smiling slightly.
He apologizes and laughs. He looks around. "Sorry about the mess, we moved in on Monday, so..." I agree with a nervous smile.
"It's big," I comment.
"Yeah, expansion. That's my plan, a whole team just for graphics, another for sound, gameplay... We're going to be a success!" he says excitedly.
I imagine the future he describes. A complete studio, like the ones that only exist in the United States. Specialized teams, games with more than one brain behind them. "Like an office... but for computer games," I think out loud.
Thakur smiles. "Exactly. And you came here first, huh?"
My chest warms slightly. Maybe I can belong here and see it happen. My eyes stop on the posters, and one in particular catches my attention: MELT HEDD. I vaguely recognize it from some game showcases.
"That's Colin's new one," says Thakur, pointing to the back of the room. My heart races as I follow what he wanted to show me on one of the tables in front of the hall. Colin Ritman. Colin Ritman, the super-rich, genius, eccentric game designer of this company, who spent much of his time watching his few interviews and wanting to be up to date on all his releases. I see his blond hair, the lit cigarette, the headphones in his ears. I feel the sweat on my hands again.
"Colin Ritman? I've played all his games..."
Thakur notices my nervousness, of course. And then — as if in a nightmare — he says, "Well let’s go say hello, then."
I follow silently, forcing my feet off the carpet where I was trying not to trip, not to sweat anymore, and most importantly, not to embarrass myself in front of several people on this floor. As we approach, Colin is focused while smoking, and then Thakur removes one of his earphones and exclaims something in his ear, causing Colin to shudder, slowly coming out of his bubble, taking a drag on his cigarette, leaning back in his chair and looking at Tharkur.
"Can you believe him? He’s made enough this year to buy a Lamborghini and he still smokes roll-ups." Thakur jokes.
"Well, the pre-rolled ones have strychnine in them. So they're the suckers," Colin replies dryly, and then his eyes fall on me.
Thakur introduces me — and again gets my name wrong.
"An... Yorkie. Nessa Yorkie." I extend my hand, smiling.
No one ever told me what it feels like to meet someone you're a fan of. I have no idea if what I'm feeling now is anything like what someone else has felt. When I look at Colin, I feel my body grow cold, my face flush, my heart skip a beat with anxiety, and I feel a twinge in my head again.
Colin doesn't shake my hand. Instead, he frowns. He studies me. He analyzes me. Increasing the tension inside me. "We’ve met before?" he asks, pointing his cigarette in my direction.
"Um... no? Well, not that I know of," I reply, trying to sound casual. He shrugs and turns his attention back to the screen. He starts a new game.
"This is my latest..." I watch him start the game and slide his chair back a little so I can get closer and see better. The character seems to be falling from a building. The goal is to rescue small colored balls in the air as points while dodging clotheslines.
"Nohzdyve?" I ask without thinking as I watch him dodge the obstacles. Ironically, Colin must have made the player's design look like him, since the little man who was falling had platinum hair.
"Mh-mh... that's right?" Colin murmurs, agreeing with a suspicious tone. I blink slightly, taking my attention off the screen and glancing to the side, seeing him with raised eyebrows and a look I can't describe. I just remember that he mentioned the name of the game before.
I shake my head slightly, trying to put it behind me, and follow his movements in the game. As soon as Colin tries to retrieve an object that appears to be a clock on the screen, something goes wrong. The image freezes and returns to the command prompt.
"What was that?" asks Thakur, confused, as Colin straightens his posture, trying to correct the screen error.
"Buffer error." I reply without hesitation. "The eyeball sprites overran the video memory."
They both look at me in surprise. Colin especially. He stares at me as if I had said something I wasn't supposed to know, again with that same look from 5 seconds ago.
"How do you know that?" he asks me, looking at me deeply.
"I... just did," I say, trying to hide my blush. Then I look at Tharkur and see him smiling as if satisfied with my answer and pats Colin on the shoulder.
"She's good, isn't she? Anyway, let's get down to business. Nessa has a demo to show us." He signals for Ritman to get up, and he sighs and takes a drag on his cigarette while I follow Mohan to his meeting room just ahead. I can hear Colin's footsteps right behind me.
I feel that annoying throbbing in my temple again, causing me to lower my head slightly as if a large hammer were hitting my skull. I have to remember to check if I've restocked my painkillers and if the vitamin drugs are doing the trick, otherwise I feel like I might go crazy with this pain.
"Are you okay, Yorkie?" Colin murmurs behind me as he takes a drag on his cigarette and blows the smoke in the opposite direction from me, then looks at me. I see his gaze go from my eyes to my head, and being closer to him, I realize how intimidatingly tall he is, requiring me to look up to find his eyes behind his large glasses.
I nod, trying to smile. "Yes. I'm just nervous about the presentation," I say in a more confident tone, wanting to show that I was really fine and that I probably wasn't paying that much attention to his face.
"Don't worry. No offense, but Mo is already impressed that a woman is playing the game. Just don't stutter," " he says ironically as he looks at Tharkur's back, hoping he won't hear him. I frown when I hear this, but it's no big surprise to me that in this industry, he would obviously want to see for himself what a woman can deliver as a game.
It's as if he could see my insecurity even before I said anything. Perhaps he sees more than meets the eye.
The joystick is steady in my sweaty hands, but I feel calmer seeing that the demo runs smoothly and is working perfectly, just as I had tested it several times on my computer. I try to avoid thinking too much about the thousands of possible errors that could happen at this moment, but I fail to calm down, feeling Tharkur's heavy breathing in front of me as he watches my game and Colin's presence sitting at the table. As I advance the game, I finally meet PAC, and then the player's choice options appear.
Worship or Den...
"Don’t worship him. He's the thief of destiny." Colin looks at the screen and then at me as I shudder at the sound of his voice, suddenly choosing one of the paths. He stares at me as if it were an obvious answer.
God, how grateful I was that he chose this path, since it was the one I had managed to program some advances for. At least I wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of showing that I hadn't prepared the other side.
But I can't stop thinking or looking at him in surprise that he knows who the villain of the book is, so I'm probably not the only one in this room who fell head over heels for the work.
"Did you read Bandersnatch?" I ask, still surprised.
"Jerome F. Davies. Visionary." My chest tightens. Until a few moments ago, I was feeling mixed emotions, controlling my posture as much as I could to show confidence, ignoring or trying to ignore the fact that my head had been throbbing stupidly since I entered this place, and the great fact that I had been ecstatic about Colin's presence all this time. But now, I felt this great warm sensation in my chest, as if I could finally ease all this accumulated stress and then the anxiety subsided a little.
"Isn’t he that bloke who cut his wife’s head off?" says Mohan, bewildered, while Colin agrees, still staring at PAC on the screen.
"That is what people tend to focus on, yes." Colin replies, without losing focus.
"Which ending did you read?" I caught his attention again, seeing that his gaze was less harsh than before, as if he had noticed my nervousness all along.
"All of them." He shrugged, and my reaction was to frown as I watched him turn his attention to a rubber ball and throw it up in the air.
Why choose all paths? Why read them all? As much as it is a tireless work to read, no one reads them all. Even before I had the idea to make the game, I always read the book wanting to subject the character to the best possible ending, to finally find the final path of the great maze that Davies created...
Before I can process any further, Mohan takes the controller from my hand. "Excuse me."
He chooses the wrong option. "Worship PAC", and then, as expected, the error screen pops up, causing him to exit the game.
"What happened?" he asks, looking at me.
"I haven’t programmed that pathway yet."
"So there are many paths?"
"Yes. If it's supposed to be the same as the book..." I murmur as I take the joystick when he hands it to me.
"There are many divergent realities in the book. It was ahead of its time," Colin comments, as if he understands everything I tried to put into the project. "If there is such a thing as time," I hear him murmur, seeming to be talking about more than just the book...
Mohan's palm against the table startles me. A new twinge appears along with the buzzing.
"Come work here."
My heart leaps. I feel it as if it wants to jump out of my mouth.
"Really?"
"Mhm. We'll give you some desks and put together a small team just for you. And of course Colin will be here." Thakur points to Colin, who waves at me but doesn't look at me. I feel my cheeks ache and realize I've been smiling all this time listening to Mohan's proposals. "I'll hire a guy to take care of the audio next week and we can take care of the music right here."
That twinge in my head instantly turned into a slight ringing in my ear, muffling Tharkur's voice slightly. I listen, enchanted. But something inside me... hesitates.
"No."
The word comes out. Without permission.
Thankur looks at me in surprise and looks at Colin, seeming to want to make sure he wasn't the only one who heard my answer. I follow his gaze and see him looking at me with his eyebrows raised, just as he has done since we first met. Once again, I capture that surprised and sombre look on him.
My hands start to sweat, and I feel cold sweat break out as I fear ruining everything. My eyes are wide with astonishment.
And with a snap, it comes to me, I remember what I wanted to say and immediately exclaim.
"Sorry, I-I want to do the game, of course... I just, I believe I need to..." I take a deep breath and force myself to stop stuttering. "...I prefer to create it the way I know how. Do you understand?" I look expectantly at Mohan, who continues to stare at me as if I were an alien standing in front of him. I feel like he still doesn't understand my proposal or isn't used to being contradicted.
"Alone?"
"Yeah, it's all in my head, and I think if I work with other people, it'll be a little more stressful? Especially with people who may not have even read or know anything about the book."
"Stressful?" Mohan looks uncomfortable. He's not used to refusals.
"But I know that this way I can make the game just like the book," I conclude, wanting to reassure them and show them one last time that I deserve a chance, and I see the man in front of me nod slowly.
"But it's still a game, right?" He asks me, wanting me to reassure him, but before I can speak, I hear Colin speak up.
"I get it" Colin says, without me having to answer. "She's a craftswoman. A lone woodsman, I’m the same." Colin's gaze toward me seems warmer, something I didn't expect at this moment.
He stands up and crosses the room. He stares at me more closely with his eyes behind his glasses.
Colin points the rubber ball at me. "It’s like a saying. Teams are fine for things like action titles but when it’s concept based..." he points the rubber ball at his own chest as we look at each other "... bit of madness is what you need."
"And that works best when it's one mind," he says, pointing at me again.
Mohan rolls his eyes. "Right, Timothee Leary. We'll discuss 'The Doors of Perception' later..." Tharkur mocks Colin's speech, which he immediately refutes.
"That was Huxley, not Leary," Colin retorts.
"You'll have your room. The important thing is to move forward by Christmas, so we need you to finish by September 12. No delays."
"Okay," I smile, relieved.
I extend my hand. With a slight buzzing continuing in my ear, something forces me to look at Colin, who is almost next to me, paying attention to the carpet in the room. I don't want to listen to the voice in the back of my mind telling me that he seems to be avoiding my gaze. I turn back to Tharkur and smile, taking his hand to seal the deal.
The twinge returns. My attention suddenly turns to the living room door, and at that moment, the boy from earlier enters timidly, looking at each of us, carrying chocolate bars. Tharkur, upon seeing him, or rather, upon seeing the bars, claps his hands in celebration.
"That's my man!" he says, laughing. He takes one of the bars, ready to eat it, and then waves it at Colin without even looking at him, too busy with the chocolate in front of him.
"Colin, introduce her to the provisional table."
I feel a little nudge on my shoulder and see Colin starting to walk out of the room. I say goodbye to Tharkur, then grab my bag and follow Colin, who walks back to his desk. "What do you usually listen to?"
"Mhm?" I ask, confused by his question.
"To get into the flow." He clarifies, turning to me as he sits in his chair, crossing his fingers and resting his legs on the table. I stand awkwardly in front of him, waiting for his response.
"Ah, music. Well... Thompson Twins." I say, grimacing slightly, waiting for his assessment, perhaps...?
I see the shadow of a smile on his lips. He stands up, now closer to me, making me hold my breath for a few seconds and look up to see his face. How tall is this guy, 6 feet?
"Grab a pen, come with me. Looks like your brain has gotten used to some junk." He says and then heads toward the elevator. I stare at his back, not understanding where he's taking me or what he's saying. I quickly grab the first pen I see on his desk and hurry to keep up with him, making sure my bag doesn't fall off my shoulders.
"Wait, where are we going?"
"A coffee shop nearby. It's almost lunchtime." He clarifies once again as if it were obvious, and then the elevator doors open. We get in and stand side by side facing the door, and then I feel it again.
A buzzing.
A twinge.
"There are several tea options you might like," Colin comments.
I frown... How does he know I like tea...?
A/C: I hope you enjoyed it. I will post the next one soon (I promise it won't take long). Please leave your feedback 😊
𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘹 𝘖𝘤!𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 — When your job at Tuckersoft turns into a metaphysical nightmare, you realize that nothing is exactly what it seems — not even yourself, or your boss. Colin Ritman, the game-development genius, remembers every version of the multiverse that you two have already shared. He wants you to stay, to help him find a way out together… while you slowly fall for him at the edges of each new reality. Your heart wants to say “yes”—but what he’s trying to tell you is that the end might be the end of everything… or the beginning of something greater.
𝐎𝐫 — when your job as a designer at Tuckersoft becomes a time loop alongside your boss.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: SMUT 18+, multiverse, fluff, angst, slow-burn, time loop, boss-employee relationship, shared consciousness, reality manipulation, first time, lemon, existential doubts, sacrifices.
𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤’𝘴 𝘖𝘊 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 — 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 :)
Always reblog. ♥️
This drawing actually started as something different, but the Discord heathens (you know who you are) have infiltrated my brain, and it's Mother's Day so...here's Donnie with a baby, letting whoever mom is have a break.
27 мая 2024 г. - Автор пина:elisabetta tenconi. Находите и прикалывайте свои пины в Pinterest!
I don’t know who the artist is but hot DAYUM Leo sir!! 🥴🥴
“Control”
Bayverse Leo x reader
Slow burn | tension | unspoken love
Hi guys! If you want me to write you something that’s on your mind just text me! Oh and i have this one shot in drafts like for 6 months! Soo i hope you will like that🤍
——————
The dojo was quiet.
The only sounds were your breaths—soft, controlled—and the padded thumps of your bare feet as you tried, for the fifth time, to copy Leonardo’s stance.
“You’re still leading too much with your right side,” Leo said gently, stepping behind you again. “It leaves your ribs exposed.”
“I’m trying,” you mumbled, planting your foot harder into the mat.
“I know,” he replied, and you could hear the warmth in his voice.
Then came the light pressure of his hand—fingers grazing your ribs to guide you, the other on your shoulder to tilt you back slightly.
Every time he touched you, it was careful. Like he thought you’d break. Like he was afraid he might.
You didn’t move for a moment. Just stood there, trying to breathe steadily while your heart kicked in your chest.
“There,” he said, his voice suddenly quieter. “That’s better.”
You nodded but didn’t speak. His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back, the absence of him suddenly noticeable like cold air rushing in where heat used to be.
————-
Training with Leo had become a routine—a ritual, almost. Late nights in the dojo after everyone else had gone to bed. Just you, him, and the low buzz of energy between you that neither of you addressed.
It started off simple. You’d asked him to teach you how to defend yourself—nothing serious, just enough to hold your own. He’d agreed without hesitation, but now, weeks later, it was clear: this was about more than fighting.
It was time. Connection. That quiet closeness only built through repetition and shared space.
You stepped into your stance again and exhaled. “Okay. Let’s try it one more time.”
Leo nodded, moving into position across from you. His movements were always fluid—controlled, strong, beautiful. You hated how often you caught yourself staring.
He came at you slow this time, giving you the chance to counter. You blocked, pivoted, then tried to sweep his leg. He dodged it effortlessly, catching your wrist and twisting you toward him to stop your momentum.
You stumbled forward.
Straight into his chest.
Your hands instinctively landed against the edge of his plastron as his arm came around you to steady your back. For a second—just a heartbeat—you stayed there, face turned slightly into his shoulder, breathing hard.
He was warm. Solid. Close enough to count the tiny scars on his skin.
Then-slowly-you looked up at him.
And he was already looking at you.
Neither of you moved.
The world outside the dojo didn’t exist. Just his eyes, locked on yours, with something in them so intense it made your stomach twist. Something tender. Something terrifying.
Your lips parted—like maybe you’d say it. Maybe this was the moment.
But you didn’t.
And neither did he.
Instead, Leo blinked and gently let go, stepping back, his arms falling to his sides like the moment hadn’t just happened.
“You’re improving,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.
You nodded once, trying to catch your breath. “Thanks. That… felt better.”
He looked down briefly, adjusting the strap on his arm, then nodded too. “We’ll stop here for tonight.”
You grabbed your water bottle, trying to hide the way your hands trembled just slightly. “Same time tomorrow?”
He gave you a soft smile. “I’ll be here.”
You offered a half-smile back before heading to the exit.
And as you walked away, you didn’t look back.
Because you knew if you did, he’d be watching you.
And maybe—just maybe—he’d be wishing, like you were, that one of you had been brave enough to say it.
TIME TO THRASH FOR THE HOLIDAY
he does not have a license
girl obi wan is thriving
I wanted to do a Bayverse screencap redraw with my Bayverse/Rise fusion turtles
THEY GLOW THEY GLOW IN THE FUCKING DARK