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fayes-fics · 8 months

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A Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.

Word Count: 6.1 k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3

It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.

“The Viscount is in want of a wife.”

That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.”

You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.

“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”

——

3 days later.

He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.

“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.

“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic.

His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.

“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.

“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.

And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.

——

9 days later.

“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade.

It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.

He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.

“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”

The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.

“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.

“Every word,” he replies solemnly.

“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.

“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”

He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.

“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.

You are married within three weeks.

——

6 weeks later.

‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.

“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.

“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.

“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.

“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.

“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision.

“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.

“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.

“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.

“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him.

To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.

It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.

When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.

“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.

You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction.

You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.

——

1 month later.

You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.

So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.

“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”

Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.

As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.

Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.

“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.

“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.

You sigh.

“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.

“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.

Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.

“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.

It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.

——

2 months later.

Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.

“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.

“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.

“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”

“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.

“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.

“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.

His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.

“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.”

But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman.

And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.

“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.

The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first.

“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.

“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.

“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.

“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.

A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.

“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.

“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”

“What made you change your mind?”

He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.

“You.”

The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now….

Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.

“Do not dare,” you growl.

His mouth falls open in shock.

“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.

“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.

You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his.

They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.

Good lord.

You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.

And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together.

He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.

He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.

“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.

“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.”

“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.

He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.

“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.

You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.

“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.

He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.

“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”

“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.

But he doesn’t answer your question directly.

“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.

You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”

Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk.

Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.

“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.

“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.

He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”

“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member.

“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.

“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip.

Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.

“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!”

He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.

“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.

“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.

The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.

“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense.

He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.

But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.

“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.

“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.

“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.

So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.

He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.

“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race.

“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”

The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.

“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss.

The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside.

“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently.

He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.

“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.

The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.

You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.

You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.

Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.

“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.

His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.

He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.

“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.

“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.

“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.

His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.

His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.

He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.

Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.

“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.

“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.

“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.

He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.

Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.

When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.

“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.

He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing.

“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body.

___

It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever.

A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.

A beneficial arrangement indeed.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor

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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

Photo

Title: E-Vite 4/20 [A New Hire interlude]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Word Count: 4,382

Summary: Ari’s mate finds herself invited to a brunch featuring more than just bottomless mimosas.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Drugs, Recreational Drug Use, Mob AU, Age Gap, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat

A/N: i’m so sorry this is so late! but (i hope) it’s worth it! takes place roughly a week or so before reader and Ari leave for Paris. a little character development i think you’ll all enjoy. divider by @firefly-graphics. dedicated to @cocobutterqwueen, who prompted this work ❤️

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

You purse your lips, your brows drawing together critically as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You heave a dissatisfied sigh, brushing imaginary dirt from the hem of your white tennis skirt.

“Too much?” You mutter, rocking back and forth on the heels of your matching ivory sneakers. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” The silver charms on your bracelet jingle softly as you begin wiggling out of your skirt, trying to undo the hook-eye closure on the back. You aren’t expecting to see your mate there, leaned in the doorway of the walk-in closet with an amused smile playing at the edges of his full lips.

“Third outfit in fifteen minutes, Sweetheart. You nervous?” There’s a teasing note in his voice that makes you pout, shaking your head even though it’s obvious he’s right.

“No, I’m not nervous.” You continue fiddling with the zipper until Ari closes his hands around yours. It’s silly, to be this anxious about meeting a bunch of people you’ve already been talking to for weeks, but you are. Joining Moms of Riverside County had been a whim. At most, you had expected to find new dinner recipes, maybe a few fun things to do with Liam. Instead, you’d found… a community?

Some of the members were a little out there, but there were far more good apples than bad. People posted pictures, shared memes— not pronounced “may-mays” as Ari had pointed out, to your embarrassment. There was even a group-chat, which you had recently been invited to—✨🔥 Cool Moms of Riverside County🔥✨, which had given you a good laugh. You weren’t particularly active yet, but even so you had been tagged and invited to a private brunch being hosted by one of the members you actually talked to with some regularity.

Come if you can! We’d love to see you! Sabrina’s casual message outside of the group chat had left you scrambling to respond last night, typing out at least thirty messages and showing them to Ari before deciding on one.

Okay! Thanks for inviting me, I wold love to come!

“I-it’s just a facebook group thing.” You mumble, and he chuckles, kissing your forehead.

“It’s okay to be a little nervous about meeting your internet friends for the first time.” He must feel it in the bond, the electric apprehension running through every one of your limbs and down to the tips of your fingers and toes. “Just be yourself, Sweetheart. Trust me, they’ll love you.” He turns to exit the closet, but pokes his head back in. “And I like the skirt.”

An hour later, you’re in the Jeep on your way across town, Sabrina’s address punched into your phone’s GPS. You’re trying to think of potential conversation topics in your head, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel. You’d already checked the list of people in attendance—only ten, including you.

Exclusive.

Sabrina’s house is half an hour outside of the city, nestled in the rolling hills off the highway. The private drive is blocked off by a wrought iron gate that you have to pull up to an intercom to get open. You lean out of the window, jabbing your thumb into the button.

“Yes? Who is it? Shh, Adrian!”

You lick your lips nervously. “Um, it’s uh, it’s—”

“Oh wait, I know who you are! I can see you on the camera. Come on in, girl!” The intercom buzzes loudly and the fence slides smoothly out of the way. It takes a full three minutes to get from the gate to the house, and when you pull up, there’s a line of expensive looking cars parked along the side. You take up the rear, taking a deep breath before hopping out. Gravel crunches under your feet, and as you’re heading up the stairs the front door opens.

“OhmyGod Hi!” You recognize Adrian from his pictures, his long dark hair piled up in a bun on top of his head. “How are you? Come in, come in,” he motions you forward with a wide smile. In one hand is a half full glass of wine, and he hugs you with the other. Underneath his rather fruity cologne is a distinctly Alpha scent, and when you pull away, you spot half a ring of teeth marks on the skin beneath his collar.

“Good, thanks,” you sputter, stepping over the threshold. It’s a monster of a house, the ceiling looming far above you. The air is heavy with the scent of warm sugar and brown butter, like someone’s baking. You cast a look around the foyer, there are pictures of Sabrina with her children, her husband—who just so happens to be the headmaster of Liam’s school. You toe off your shoes in the entryway, and Adrian scoffs.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. Sabrina doesn’t give a shit about mud on her carpets,” he laughs.

“Habit, I guess,” you say, your own nervous laughter ringing awkwardly in the air with his. “I, um, have-have you been in the group long?” The questions you practiced in the car tangle confusedly together on your tongue.

“Like three years, I think?” He waves his hand as he shrugs. “But it got a lot more fun when Sab starting modding. Way more jokes.” He fixes you with a sly smile. “Let’s go get you a drink!” You tail Adrian through the house, and the sound of voices gets louder and louder as you go. The long hallway opens up into a massive kitchen, and a gaggle of people surround the marble island in the center of it, only a few of whom you recognize.

“Ladies,” Adrian claps his palm against his khaki-clad thigh, holding his wine glass aloft as he raises his voice to get their attention. “And gentle man,” he giggles, placing his palm against his chest, “Our last guest has arrived.” You duck your head in embarrassment as a little cheer ripples through the rest of the attendees.

“Sorry I’m late, I think the e-vite said 4:20—”

“Girl please.” You recognize Keisha’s fiery orange locs from her profile picture. “I just got here ten minutes ago. Sabrina! Girl where are you? You know I don’t know where you keep the glasses in this maze.” By your count, there are about seven people here, eight, including you. “Are you sure she’s the last one, Adrian? I thought Barb and Hannah were coming, too?”

“Kayla’s got chicken pox, they cancelled this morning,” Adrian replies. “They’re fine, though, said she’s holding up well. Marathonning every episode of Bluey, apparently.” As the two of you join everyone else at the counter, Sabrina appears in the opposite doorway.

“Sorry, I went to get a lighter. Glasses are above the sink—hi! I’m so glad you could make it!” Sabrina is tiny, strawberry blonde curls piled on top of her head and secured with the biggest, pinkest bow you’ve ever seen. She reminds you of a Malibu Barbie—mansion and all. Sabrina rushes over to you, quickly depositing the tray of what looks like cigarette papers and lighters on the counter before hugging you tightly.

“Thanks for coming!” Sabrina looks genuinely happy to see you. They make room for you around the island. “I just moved here like a year and a half ago and it is so hard to make friends.”

You let out a relieved breath. “I know exactly what you mean.” You had been nervous about coming, about whether or not you were actually going to fit-in . It feels like there are huge holes where general knowledge should be about how to act, what to say. All the culturally relevant gossip you know hit it’s expiration date a decade ago—but surprisingly, you don’t feel as terrified of that as you had been before arriving.

The conversation flows easily, and you finish your first glass of wine with a comfortable, warm buzz. Adrian makes it his business to serve the cooled cookies, and when you take two, he laughs.

“Okay, girl, I see you!” You blush as you bite down, gooey chocolate coating your tongue.

“I didn’t eat before I came,” you admit, polishing off the first cookie and starting on the second. “These are so good,” you add, and Sabrina preens.

“Thank you! I baked them myself.” Sabrina ducks down beneath the island countertop, and you hear the sound of a drawer rolling open, and then shut again. “I will admit I found the recipe online, though.” As she stands, she tosses a plastic bag of—

Oh my God.

Your eyes widen as the baggie of weed lands on the table, and they dart worriedly to the faces of everyone else there. No one seems surprised or upset, in fact, Keisha claps excitedly.

“Good,” she chirps, plucking a single paper from one of the packs on the silver tray. “I’ll roll.”

You shift nervously on your feet, unsure of what to do. You’ve never smoked before—the most you’ve ever done is drink alcohol, and even that you don’t do with any regularity. Ari’s beers in the fridge at home remain mostly untouched by you, and the occasional glass of wine is the extent of what you generally allow yourself. Not that you mind, really—

You tap jittery fingers against the granite, and Adrian clucks his tongue at you.

“What’s wrong, babes?” His eyebrows crease with concern. “Not a joint person?”

“N-no?” You force yourself to calm down—these are all adults, and it’s not like it’s… illegal here, per-say. “I um, I haven’t actually ever… smoked. Marijuana.”

“You haven’t?” Sabrina’s gaze moves worriedly from your face to the half-eaten tray of cookies and back again. “Are you… kidding?”

You sigh, dragging an embarrassed hand down your face. “No. Ugh, my… my parents were um. Really strict. Sorry. I’m not a narc or anything, I just, um, never really—” Sabrina grabs your hand with a soft smile and the rambling word vomit screeches to a halt.

“You don’t have to explain yourself at all. I just, well, I kind of thought you knew, to be honest.”

“Knew?”

“Yeah, it’s said 4/20 brunch, on 4/20,” she looks at you with a leading expression, but whatever reference she’s trying to make flies entirely over your head. You raise an eyebrow.

“That wasn’t… the time?”

“420 means weed girl!” Adrian yelps, doubling over with raucous laughter. He rests a hand on his hip as he gasps for air. “This was a weed brunch!” You pinch the bridge of your nose, groaning. “Oh my God the cookies! You ate two of them!” Cold realization crosses your face as you turn to face them in horror.

“There was weed in the cookies!?”

—

Ari is waiting for you in the kitchen when you call—he’d been expecting you home half an hour ago, and though he wasn’t worried, he was beginning to get antsy. The bond is open—wide open, in fact—and your hazy amusement permeate it like smoke.

“Hi, Sweetheart. You okay?” He asks, and you giggle.

“ I’m good. I’m so-oo-oo good, ” you sing, drawing out the syllables. There’s a loud splash, and Ari raises an eyebrow as you gasp loudly through the receiver.

“Don’t drop your phone!”

“I’m not gonna dro-op it,” you hiccough, and Ari can practically hear your pout. “She said I was going to drop my phone, but I’m not going to drop it—”

“Kitten. What is—”

“Can you come get me?” You say, cutting him off in a dreamy, small voice. “I don’t think I should drive. The floor is moving.” Ari pulls away from the phone, staring at it with confused, narrowed eyes.

“The floor is… moving.” He repeats your babble, just to make sure he’s hearing it right. You heave a relieved sigh, as if he’s validated some previously held suspicion.

“Yes. And I really don’t think I should drive. I’m all wet.”

“Okay baby. Can you send me your friend’s address? I’m going to call Martine over in case Liam wakes up, and then I will come and get you.”

“Okay.” You hang up with no warning, leaving your confused and exasperated mate staring at his phone. It takes several minutes—and quite a few nonsensical strings of emojis—before the address comes through.

She’s drunk, he thinks to himself, shaking his head. A little wry smile plays at the edges of his mouth as he buckles himself into the Bentley. She has to be. He’s not upset as he turns out of the driveway, skirting generously around Martine’s car. He’s glad you’ve made friends—the tight fist your father had kept around your life has left a lasting impression, one Ari is eager to erase.

The traffic choking the highway eases as he circles around the city, the exit dumping him out into the rolling foothills on its outskirts. The address you’d sent him is one that takes him into familiar territory, and when he pulls up to the gate, it buzzes open before he has a chance to push the button on the intercom.

Ari exits the vehicle, taking stock of each car lined up in the driveway—including yours. He pauses at the front steps, listening, before making his way around back instead. The sounds of music and laughter grow louder as he rounds the side of the house. Your scent is here too, cut with others and diluted by the smell of chlorine and charcoal smoke. The yard opens up before him, carefully manicured green surrounding the deeply set in-ground pool.

“I don’t remember inviting the mob.” An amused voice makes Ari turn, before he scoffs.

“You wouldn’t have to, Sabrina, you married it.” He replies, shaking his head before reaching down for a hug. “It’s been a while.” Sabrina tokes long and hard on the joint in her hand before she laughs.

“You’re telling me. What are you doing here?”

“My mate is here.” Ari peers over Sabrina’s blonde head, squinting at the pool. “The one on the pizza floaty.”

You’re sprawled on the double-wide rubber float, chatting animatedly to a man sitting on the pool steps up to his waist. Sabrina claps her hands, loud, animated laughter escaping her grinning mouth.

“That’s your mate? Oh my God. I think—I think I’m gonna pee.” She doubles over, while Ari frowns down at her. “Sorry. Sorry. I just—Odd couple. In my defense, she is the sweetest person on earth, and you’re… you.” Ari purses his lips.

“Yes, well, you’re related to me,” he says dryly. “I still don’t think you’ve forgiven me for putting worms in your hair.”

“I haven’t. It was disgusting.”

“I was eight.”

Sabrina ignores him, flicking a honey-blonde lock over her shoulder before making her way over to the pool. She wades in, waving to get your attention. You look utterly relaxed, your limbs draped loosely across the floaty. Your fingers and toes trail in the water as a you drift. You sit up as Sabrina approaches, and for a moment, your wild hair is framed perfectly in the light of the setting sun.

Little lioness.

The words she speaks to you are snatched away by the wind as Ari approaches, squatting by the edge of the pool. You’re wearing a swimsuit you no doubt borrowed from Sabrina, a bikini he suspects is at least one size too small. Sliding off the edge of the pizza-shaped float, you wade over to him, a dopey smile on your face.

“Ari!”

“Hi, Kitten.” He leans down when you reach wet hands up to hug him. Ari doesn’t mind, drawing his fingers affectionately over your bare shoulders and back as he presses his face to the side of your throat. He can’t help but check. Underneath the heavy scent of the chlorine—and a light coating of weed-smoke—is your true scent. Just yours, like he’d known it would be. He kisses your forehead. You giggle.

“I did what you said,” you whisper loudly. “It worked! I just said, um, that I never smoked, but then I ate the cookie—two cookies, I think. Maybe more?” The story devolves into meaningless ramble that leaves Ari laughing.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time, Kitten.”

“So this is the mate.” A lanky Alpha with a joint in a rather fancy looking cigarette holder appraises Ari, his other hand resting on his hip. He offers it to shake. “Adrian. The pleasure is yours.” Ari shakes it. “We did try to keep her out of the pool but she made some very convincing arguments.”

“I see,” Ari replies, chuckling as you give a stout nod from the pool. “She does have a habit of getting her way.” The resulting pout that forms on your full lips is worth the half-truth. You make your way toward the pool ladder, slipping once before finding your footing. You’re sopping wet, water running in rivulets down your soft skin. Up close, the swimsuit you’re wearing is even smaller, the fabric straining to hold back the supple flesh of your breasts.

Ari clears his throat, and Adrian snickers. He shoots the other male an irritated look, but Adrian only grins.

“I packed you a to-go bag, chica. It’s in your purse. You crazy kids have a good night.” He winks, and you wave absently.

“You too, Adrian!” You turn back to Ari. “He’s nice, right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, dragging his eyes up from the curve of your hip where the tie is sinking sinfully into the soft skin there. “Nice. Where did you get this?” He fingers the spaghetti thin strap at your shoulder. Sabrina sidles up next to you with a knowing grin, looping her arm around your shoulders.

“Well, I couldn’t let her just jump in, Ari.” He levels an annoyed glare at her. “What kind of cousin would I be if I let your mate ruin her nice clothes?” You gasp exaggeratedly.

“Cousin?”

“First or second, or something like that,” Ari grumbles. She laughs.

“Remind me to tell you the worm story,” she replies conspiratorially, clapping you on the back. “You go get your clothes.”

“I’ll be right back,” You press a kiss to Ari’s cheek. He can’t help but watch you walk away, the damp fabric wedging itself neatly between the cheeks of your ass. God-fucking-dammit.

“It reeks out here,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “You’d better not be turning my mate into a pothead. I don’t want to have to get into weed distribution, you know how messy that is.” Sabrina waves a hand dismissively.

“Nonsense. Thad’s got a great thing going on with Rogers and Barnes on the east coast. He can cut you in if you want.” She winks. “I like her, you know. Genuinely had no idea she was, um. Yours.” Ari smiles, in spite of himself.

“It’s hard not to love her.”

Ari opts to wait out front, and he isn’t out there long before you stumble out clutching your purse. Your shirt is unbuttoned and untucked from your skirt, exposing the swimsuit you’re still wearing underneath. You look up at him apologetically through your lashes.

“Thank you for coming, Ari, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be, Kitten,” he chuckles, helping you down the steps toward the car. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

You loose a high pitched giggle. “I had so-oo much fun. S-Sabrina’s so nice! She said she wants to hang out more. And—” You gasp, turning to him with a suspicious glare. “She said you put worms in her hair.” Ari laughs, shaking his head as he opens the passenger side door. “How could you do that?”

“I’ll bet she didn’t tell you she dumped cat litter on my head the week before,” he replies, shutting the door before you can respond. He can see that you’re talking anyway, chirping brightly to yourself as Ari rounds the front of the car. He’s not quite sure why, but the sight of it makes his heart swell, even as he shakes his head.

“—gross!” You finish, looking at him definitively.

Ari slides into the drivers seat, nodding. “It was.”

“Will we come back for the Jeep?” You ask in a small, guilty voice. “I like the Jeep.” Ari nods, chuckling.

“I promise.” The stoned, dopey smile you shoot him in response makes Ari wonder just how many “cookies” you’d eaten. You slump lazily in the passenger seat, stretching like a cat as he pulls out of the driveway. You sit there, blissfully unaware of the way that fucking bikini is eating away at his nerves. You drag a hand across your bare midsection, absently playing with the loose bikini strings.

Of course you can’t see the way the edges of your dark, puffy nipples spill just over the edges of the triangular scraps of fabric. Sabrina’s attempt to help you maintain your modesty has done exactly the opposite, leaving you so indecently exposed that Ari finds himself wondering how the soft, plump lips of your cunt even fit in the bottoms.

God-fucking-dammit.

Ari knows he should be focusing on the sparsely populated road, on the hour long drive it will take to get you home— not on the way he can see the pebbled outline of your perfect fucking nipples through that flimsy excuse for a bathing suit. Ari dares to glance in your direction again and groans quietly. You’re running your hands along your bare thighs, giggling and gasping at the sensation of your palms on your own skin.

“Ari, I didn’t know I was this soft,” you mumble, your eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Did you know that?”

He scrubs a hand down his face.

“Jesus, Kitten, you trying to kill me tonight?” He moans, dropping his head back against the seat. You lean over the middle console, an apology already on your trembling lips.

“I’m sorry.” It’s like you’re completely unaware of it, the thrall you have him in as you rest a warm little hand on his thigh. “How can I make it better?”

Martine’s fine at the house with Liam, right?

—

“Oh-oh God!” Your face is hidden, pressed against the hood of the car. Ari has your trembling legs spread as far apart as he can manage, his cock disappearing between the cheeks of your ass. “F-feels— oh— ” You’re even less articulate than usual, your sopping, needy cunt squeezing down around him like a vise.

Ari’s got your little white skirt rucked up around your waist, and the offending bikini pulled to the side so he can watch you take him. Seeing your pussy stretched open wide and straining around the veiny length of his cock is almost as good as feeling it. Ari doesn’t resist the urge to crack the palm of one hand against the cheek of your ass. You squeal, and God the way you fucking clench down is almost enough to make him bust right there—

“Ari!” His name sounds like a desperate prayer on your lips. You’re practically writhing underneath him, your hands forming little fists on the hood of the Bentley. “G-God, feels—” He loves you like this, the words all gibberish on your loose tongue. “Fuck!”

He especially likes it now that you’re high, hoarse curses falling from your lips as you raise yourself up onto your tip toes trying to meet his thrusts. It’s like some of your carefully crafted filter has come apart, allowing through the Kitten that isn’t afraid of judgment or reprisal.

“M’so full,” you whine pathetically, peering over your shoulder at him pleadingly. “More?” He isn’t expecting your breathy, perfect little plea, and the softly uttered request seems to go straight to his cock, and it throbs hard inside you. Ari groans, his head lolling back on his shoulders as he stares unseeingly at the night sky. “More, please.”

The knot at the base of his cock is already starting to swell, and Ari clenches his teeth. Bracing one hand between your shoulders as he anchors the other to your hip.

“More, Kitten?” He asks, chuckling darkly. “Greedy girl. Can you even take more?” Ari draws back until the head of his cock pops out, and he slaps it wetly against your cunt. Slowly, he presses himself into the fucked-swollen mess of your pussy. He doesn’t stop when you begin straining against his knot, murmuring dark words of encouragement.

“You asked for this,” he reminds you, grinning when your forehead hits the hood with a thunk, and you let out a muffled cry. Ari joins you, a harsh growl tearing from his throat as his knot pops inside. “That enough, Kitten?” He asks through clenched teeth. “Your hungry fucking pussy finally full, Sweetheart?”

You push back against him, a lewd squelch filling both your ears. That’s enough of an answer for Ari. He growls, clamping down on the back of your neck with one hand as his fingers sink deep into the meat of your hip. His thrusts are shorter now, but fuller , and each one leaves you mewling and crying. His whole world is condensing down to a single point. You’re all that matters, you, this moment, his cock buried in your slick, sweet core—

“Oh f-fuck, God, Ari, c-cumming—” The nonsense that you manage to string together only barely precedes the way your cunt clamps deliciously around him like a hot wet fist. The pleasurable buzzing in the back of Ari’s skull becomes unbearable, traveling down his spine and shooting like electricity to the base of his cock.

Ari groans, bending over your back to sink his teeth into your shoulder, holding you still while he cums. He still doesn’t know how to explain how right it feels to press inside you and let go—like he’s supposed to. Fuck and the feel of you—Ari groans as you shift, your velvet walls shifting against his still hard cock. He leans back, releasing you so that he can stare appreciatively at your cunt. Lips bulged out from the heavy girth of his knot, a mixture of both your fluids leaking out around it.

You peek over your shoulder at him, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Your eyebrows are creased together, your glassy eyes shining with real worry.

“Ari?”

“What’s the matter, Kitten?”

“I think I left my phone.”

end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

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beatcroc · 2 months

Text

a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #the noise #noisette #pizzahead #arting #pizzaposting

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edvinception · 2 months

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Transcript of Edvin's radio interview

This is nowhere near perfect and not a word by word translation. BUt it took me over 2 hours so...

You owe me hahaha

Some discussions of season 3 and minor spoilers but nothing huge.

I: Edvin Ryding, it will soon be time for the third season of Young Royals, that's why we are here to talk about that among other things. I just have to start off- you arrive here blonde and with what looks like a racing jacket in orange, red, beige, lots of colours.

E: Yes, I like it, I bought it this weekend when I was in Paris and walked past a Second-Hand Store where I found it and thought it was cool. There’s something a bit cool with stark colours and logos and with the blond hair. I’m at a phase where I need to experiment a bit I think.

I: Yeah, because as Wilhelm in young royals you don’t, Wilhelm doesn’t want to stand out.

E: In particular it’s the way he’s been raised. He is told what to wear and how to style his hair, how long his hair is allowed to be. You should look the part so to speak. Not standing out from the norms which is what the royal family wants to portray.

I: In season 3 he says “I’m not allowed to cut my hair shorter”

E: Exactly, he’s trapped in those norms. I remember when I tried to map Wilhelm down before season 1 I wrote down some of his interests and dreams. As soon as I did it I thought it was beautiful that he had these dreams, thoughts and interests but then I realised that he won’t be allowed to realise them, they will always remain vague interests. I’ve always thought of him as into fashion that’s into style but he’s stuck in history, traditions and expectation which is prominent in his whole life. In many ways, that’s what the series is about. That's the reason why he’s not allowed to cut his his hair shorter.

I: Could you say he lives out through his love?

E: Yeah, that's where he actually can’t resist anymore. These traditions and expectations have kept him from realising who he wants to be but when moves to Hillerska he meets Simon and realises this is a person I can be myself with, a person I’m in love with, oh wow I’m in love with him. And that becomes a catalyst for other parts of his life where he wants to be free and test his wings.

I: And Simon can dress the way he wants and be more free.

E: Exactly, he comes from a background where he’s allowed to be who he is with his family but when he comes to Hillerska with all those traditions he is also influenced by that and now in season three they have chosen each other and are a couple officially after the speech in season two. ANd that changes Simon's life too. He’s suddenly in the spotlight for the first time and is faced with new dilemmas with how he wants to handle things

I: In preparation for season 1 you said you went through Wilhelm’s dreams, who it was and his limitations, the expectations on him and the rules he has to obey. What did this map look like? What was the big dream?

E: The big dream was for him to have room to breathe and be free. I remember that Rojda Sekezöz who was conceptual director for season 1 and 2 asked us to write a diary entry from the first week of Hillerska and I wrote that Wilhelm dreams of having a good relationship with his family and his mum, for her to be only his mum. He dreams of being allowed to let loose. When we first meet him in season 1 he is kindof a party prince and that’s a way for him I believe to express the frustrations inside him that he has carried in all seasons but now in season 3 he actually lives out- He dreams of being free meets SImon and realise it’s possible.

I: What about you Edvin? As an actor, have you changed in these seasons? It’s years of your life, You are young with alot going on but alot of things must have changed for you as an actor too?

E: Yeah, you are right, it’s been a very live changing experience with the reach of the series and the fact that we got to make 3 seasons, alot of things have happened in my life. You are trying to find your identity and you you are. I’m very thankful for these 3 years with this show and these people. I’ve learned more than I could ever dream of from directors and all the actors. It’s been a privilege to be around what I believe is Sweden’s future in this industry. There are so many young and ambitious people. We have been free and learned so much from each other and also become very close. That’s what I will miss the most I think.

I: Because this is the last season.

E: Yeah it is the last season.

I: Can you tell that you have developed as an actor. I think you can tell that you’ve gotten to know the environments, both as an actor and as the character. You are confident in some situations but also have pressure and expectations in others. Can you look at yourself from season 1 and then now in season 3 and think, “wow I’ve developed alot”

E: Yeah, I would say that. I look back at scenes from season 1 and think “wow I’m so young” and how clueless I was. I thought I had everything under control but I’ve learned so much up until now. It was the first time I was the lead role. For a very big project and I was very nervous but Rojda was very caring and safe so she guided me. She’s not a a part of the final season but I feel like when I started working with new director that I felt alot more confident and trusted myself more. And that will get you very far as an actor.

I: And you are meant to develop. It’s been three years. You are new at the school in the first season. Maybe it works out very well that you as an actor develop as the series does.

E: Yeah, we’ve been shooting it for three years but the story itself takes place during one school year. But I’ve also realised that what these characters are going through in a school year is what most people experience in 3. SO it works our very well.

I: This show has had exceptional reception. Netflix is talking about a worldwide success. You’ve already talked about this alot but how has it been for you recently? Howfrquently are fans in touch and how does it affect you?

E: It affects me alot. In a good way. It becomes quite abstract and it’s hard to grasp it when you are on social media and sees a number. It’s hard to realise that these are real people. BUt then we’ve had opportunities where we got to meet people. When we were at Kimmy Fallon we met people and Omar had his own show with a big audience from across the world that we got to meet. Just now in Paris we met people. When you get to meet these people and they tell you what the series have meant for them and that they have met people across the world thanks to the series it feels powerful. I’m doing this because I want to move people with this artform. And with this project we’ve managed to do that. It’s huge.

I: This will be with you your whole life, it’s a milestone.

E: Definitely!

I: BUt you were in Paris to talk about the show?

E: No, I was in Paris for Fashion Week. There’s alot of love on social media, of course unpleasant people too and I have periods in my life where I can handle it better and periods where I’m not as good and when people around me get affected it’s harder for me to handle but I’ve kept away from social media for a bit. Now that I went to Paris it was because i wanted to and I didn’t share it on social media but people found me there anyway and wanted to talk. It was beautiful

I: And the future? Do you get people contacting you from other countries asking you to be part of things?

E: If only it was that simple!

I: Not really, I’ve signed with an American agency in autumn 2021 and I’ve worked with them for a while now. That work continues and I talk about projects abroad continuously and they will come. I’m trying to not stress it.

I: Sounds smart.

E: I think so. To think sustainable. At the same time, the industry is very global and you can reach an international audience with stories from Sweden. It doesn’t hurt to do projects here that I want to do. At the end of the day it’s about the story, and portraying characters. It doesn’t matter where. It’s about working with talented people.

I: Are you rich now?

E: Yeah, I’m doing well money wise. Maths was never my subject so I struggle to be on top of that myself.

I: But with the third season, were there opportunities to negotiate?

E: Eh...I’m pleased with my economy. But of course, since this has been so successful you are in a better position to negotiate. But ti’s not about money for me. It’s never a factor in me saying yes or no to a project.

I: We talked a bit about the US and reaching out with a story. But when it comes to acting, how do you improve apart from working on things, you’ve worked alot, the abyss among others. BY the way do you remember your first project on Svt? Mannen under trappan? 3x1 hours you told me. Do you remember? How old were you?

E: I was five, I do remember parts of it. It was my parents that pitched me and handled everything. THey have always supported me in all my decisions. If I didn’t like it I didn’t have to do it. It’s supposed to be fun and feel right. I’m thankful for that and it carry it with me. Even if it was a dark story, it was a thriller, and Jonas Karlsson had schizophrenia, his character. I remember it s fun. There was a trampoline and we got candy when we worked at night. We played. We had a fantastic director that unfortunately is no longer with us, Daniel LInd Lagerlöf. He was great with us kids, it was me and Johanna Hintze that played the kids. I remember it as a fun experience.

I: It made you want to do more?

E: Yeah, evidently.

I: About improving, and your tools as an actor, do you work on that? BY working?

E: In a way you do...in recent years I’ve started to spend more time with the people I call the future of the industry. Actors from Royals...other co workers. I surround myself with people that are driven and ambitious and want to improve. It's a good thing because it makes me want to improve as well. You have drinks night and improvise scenes, it comes back to that naturally because everyone is so ambitious, You get inspiration right from the street. That woman for instance, she’s talking in her phone and she has 100 things going on in her life, she’s getting inside the car... things like that you pick up. You pick them up when you improvise and then you bring it along to set. It’s a craft which I love and die for. It’s amazing and you get obsessed with it.

I: So Friday night, you and your friends, drinks and improvisation.

E: Totally. You let loose. The people I surround myself are very driven and want to write their own things. Felicia Maxime comes to mind, we’ve done Young Royals, Avgrunden and A part of you together. Amazing actress, and also a script writer and director and very driven. She pushes me to let loose and improvise things. We can have coffee or drinks and brainstorm ideas and we can spend an hour in character and it’s wonderful.

I: Do you write anything?

E: I’ve gotten closer to that in recent ideas and have had ideas in my head that I write down. I recent year I’ve concretised them and written them down. It’s alot of fun but very hard. Then it’s good to have people around you that are experienced who I can learn from. I’m a person that puts alot of expectation on myself and can struggle to admit that I don’t know as much as the people around me and it’s been a process to get to a place where I can trust that I just need to learn more.

I: To be vulnerable?

E: Definitely. I feel like I’ve learned alot about that and that I can be vulnerable in private but in my working life it’s hard. It’s an industry with alot of expectation and pressure and you need to get picked. It’s not surprising that you try to be tough. But you get far by being vulnerable because it allows you to learn new things.

I: You have alot of fans. People write about you and Omar, it’s intense, you’ve shot alot and you've been in other things as well. Is it hard to separate the private person Edvin and the actor Edvin?

E: Yeah I’ve struggled with that. I think it’s because in season 1 alot of things happened and quite intensively and I had to create a character and as soon as Young Royals is brought up that character starts working. It was thar character that answered questions and used social media, all that. And they kinda merged which hit me just recently. It’s been hard to separate. It’s not surprising that you have these different persons. You have your business self and your social self but it’s important to separate for your ow mental health and I work on being able to do that.

I: Do you have a bit to go to get there?

E: Yeah I think so and that’s okay. I will be in different situations, that’s what I work with, to be different characters and I do with with alot investment. You give it your all and dives deeply. It will take a while but I need to accept that.

I: So it’s the interview person here today. Not the private person Edvin?

E: I think you’ve gotten a bit of a mix; I feel like. I’ve been quite open with some of my issues. Congrats.

I: I have to say I got a bit surprise, seeing you in that Jacket from Paris, the blond hair and the trousers, it feels like you’ve toughened up.

E. Maybe I have.That’s interesting... maybe I have.

I: It’s only based in the image I have of you. I’ve met you once or so before.

E: I’m in a period of my life where I... I’ve also grown up on set and it made me grow up faster than many other people my age and now I’m in a period of my life where I experiment and I’m the same vulnerable person on the inside and I’m very adamant about being open about my feelings and I think it's very important but I experiment more when it comes to the looks.

They rambled about the weather at the end but I didn't include it.

#edvin ryding #young royals #young royals spoilers #yr s3 spoilers

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snootlestheangel · 6 months

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After the events of Las Almas and everything involving Shepherd gets fixed, Task Force 141 and Shadow Company are forced to spend 8 weeks together (minimum) to repair trust and regain their alliance.

These are some Incorrect Quotes from during the 141's stay. (Moose belongs to @cod-dump )

Graves: All right, Shadows! Welcome to Ceremony Day for Shadow Olympics. Unfortunately, this year we have... guests. The military and government, in their infinite wisdom, have decided we need to repair our alliance with some of Britain's forces. In other words, it's a government ordered get-along-shirt with *long pause* Task Force 141. *loud booing from the Shadows* Graves: Yes, Flash? Flash: I am new here, so why do we hate them? *everyone is now suddenly very awkward* *Woody leans over and whispers the answer to Flash* Flash: Nevermind, sir! *sits back down* Graves: This is gonna be awful

*Ghost is watching something with interest on their third day at Shadow Base* Soap: Watcha lookin' at, Lt? Ghost: *wordlessly points* Soap: You're watchin' one of the Shadows... run laps?? Ghost: Yes. For the last twenty minutes. Soap: Oh god... Ghost: I don't think he plans on stopping anytime soon, either. *Flash runs by and waves dramatically before speeding up* Soap and Ghost: What the fuck?

*Soap has found himself in the motor pool* Soap: Damn, this truck is nice! Truck, appearing behind him: It is, but you aren't, so get the fuck out of my shop. Soap: But I've never seen an American HEMTT before!! Truck, skeptical: You know what kind of truck this is? Soap: Hell yeah! *an hour later* Graves: It seems like everyone's getting along okay, so far. Price, scowling: Sure, we'll go with that. It's not at all like your Shadows are terrorizing my men. Graves: That's a bold accusation- What the fuck? *they both look over to see Truck telling Soap all about the HEMTT and Soap is loving every second* Price: Is that an issue? Graves: Truck doesn't like anyone in his shop... Soap, notices them: PRICE LOOK AT THIS FUCKING TRUCK!! IT GOT COMPLETELY DESTROYED AND TRUCK HERE COMPLETELY REDID IT FROM SCRATCH!! ISN'T THAT SO COOL?! CAN WE GET A TRUCK LIKE THIS?? Price: Absolutely not! Graves, doubled over: The world is ending...

*Another day of Ghost watching Flash run cause he's afraid of the power this kid has* Woody, walking with Moose: I don't think Ghost has any ill intentions here, okay? Moose: You don't know that! Woody: Give me one reason to believe Ghost isn't a good guy. Moose, shaking and pointing: He watches Flash run and I don't know why. *Ghost is standing there with his arms crossed and blatantly watching Flash* Woody: Oh, yeah he does. That's... normal, right? I mean we all watched Flash run like this when he was brand new. Moose: But- *can't form words to convey his concern for Flash's safety* Woody: Tell ya what, I'll get Graves to talk to their captain about getting Ghost to stop. In the meantime, just hang out here and keep an eye on the kid if you're so worried. Moose: Uh, okay... Sure, I'll stay here by myself with The Ghost and be the only thing keeping Flash safe. *Woody shakes his head with a laugh and leaves* *Ghost gets the uncomfortable feeling he's being watched* *looks over to see Moose glaring daggers at him* Ghost, thinking: God that guy really hates me, doesn't he? Maybe I should show I'm actually concerned this kid's gonna drop halfway through his laps... yeah, that'll work, right? Shadows are loyal to each other. Moose, thinking: I'm so fucking scared right now, but if he makes one move towards Flash I'll- I'll kill him! Ghost, calling out to Flash: You need a water break! Flash: Oh shit, you right! *runs over to where Ghost is standing to get his water* Moose, terrified so it comes out harsh: Flash sets a timer on his watch for water breaks. Ghost: Oh, right. Just wanted to make sure he's not overworking himself. Flash, oblivious: 'S okay, Moose! My timer was about to go off anyways! Moose: *grunts* Ghost, thinking again as Moose all but glares at him: Well that backfired... Moose, also thinking: He's gonna fucking kill me, oh god, oh shit, Flash run! Flash, sipping his water and looking between them thinking: What am I witnessing? Is this power play? What even is that?

*Gaz and Soap talking while outside during the sunset* Soap: Have you had a conversation with that kid they call Flash, yet? Gaz: YES! Oh my god, I thought you talked. He's really nice but holy shit can he talk. *they look over upon hearing something in the water* *It's Ness crawling out of the pool in his full wetsuit* *Soap and Gaz scream cause they don't recognize him as a person* Ness: What?! Gaz: You're fucking terrifying! Soap: I wanna go home...

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bryce-bucher · 8 months

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500 CALIBER CONTRACTZ Post #12

Dialogue!!!11:

The main thing I did over the past week or so was put together this dialogue system. The system itself was fairly easily to implement, and I think the only interesting part of the process to share is how I went about making the UI. As per usual, I wanted to have a cool mechanical feeling ui, but at the same time a friend of mine suggested an AOL instant messenger inspired chat window. I loved both of these ideas so I decided to combine them into a screen that pops up and contains the aim-like window. The modeling process for the screen was similar to how I went about making the other two bits of ui that are on screen in the above photos, but I decided to include a VGA port.

VGA PORT:

I didn't originally plan to include a VGA port, but I was in the middle of researching monitors and accidentally left a window open on my computer that just had a big photo of one and I went "wait a minute.". With my final two braincells I suddenly decided to slap together a model for the port which I ended up being proud enough of to, for some reason, make an entire section for it.

Sorry if any of the above sentences read horribly. I am going to need a third braincell if you want this stuff to be coherent. Anyway, Blender is so cool. Using the array modifier to make all these lil squares for the holes in the port is just such a satisfying process. I've come to really like makin pre-rendered assets like this.

New Movez:

This is actually a pretty big inclusion, and I probably should've ranked it in my mind above the VGA port. I added some new movement options to the game!

Firstly, I added this melee move where you swing the back of the sniper forwards to propel yourself a bit. It is mainly useful as a bunnyhop that allows you to conserve momentum.

Next up I added this kick that happens if you melee while in the air. It's basically just the one from mario64. It lets you gain a little bit more height and distance. It also becomes way more effective if you have a lot of momentum. A good tool for correcting jumps and reaching new heights.

Finally, we have the big schmovement slide. This slide gives you a huge burst of speed that you can jump out of in order to send your self flyin. Surprisingly, it didn't really break any of the level design and ended up being a really fun addition imo. In order to perform it, you have to do a ground pound and then melee as you hit the ground. Also, I feel like I basically stole this from pseudoregalia. Played through that recently and it has been a good source of inspiration.

Nova!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:

This is a cameo skin I've been really excited to finally make myself put in the game. Anodyne 2 is a really important game to me, and I love it much. I'm really happy tha folks at analgesic let me put her in here, and I'm p happy with how her model came together. If you haven't peeped the Anodyne games I highly recommend them. The first one was a major inspiration for parts of Fatum Betula.

Conclusion:

Lately I've been playing this game way too much. It has made it impossible for me to tell if it is fun or well designed. Some problems cropped up during playtesting that ima need to address, and I hope that it all comes together into something that one could say is "fun and cool". I think takin this weekend off is gonna do my brain good. Oh yeah also I feel like I should advertise that I'm still doing commissions if anyone is interested. Anyway, have a good 1 and enjoy urself.

#screenshotsaturday #indiegamedev #gamedev #indiedev #game development #indiegames #lowpoly #y2k #y2k aesthetic #indie game #3d platformer #3dplatformer #sniper rifle #50 caliber 3d platformer #500 caliber contractz #50 cal #anodyne #anodyne 2

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fruitsoxs · 11 months

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Having Vash and Wolfwood as roommates would include;;

warnings;; i don't define a relationship, but it kinda hints at all three of you being together, lots of fluff, nothing nsfw (but I'm thinking about doing some nsfw headcanons for this in the future if anyone is interested)

How it happens/Meeting Vash

You’re basically desperate when your plans for moving in with your ex best friend fall through, leaving you basically homeless right before the semester is about to start

Looking online, in the newspaper even, you’re searching for any place that doesn’t look scummy, creepy, or charges you up the ass

Knowing full well that living without roommates in this economy is impossible, you’re hoping to find some nice people-

And boy do you luck out

Posted on some stupid roommate finder website is an add for a three bedroom apartment that’s in a sort of sketchy part of town, but offers protection for anyone willing to brave it. The guy that posted it seems nice, the ad is kinda funny, and the rent is cheap

You decide to try it out

When you first meet Vash, it’s in a little coffee shop near the uni you’re attending. It’s a safe spot to meet with a stranger, and he was cool with whatever you suggested. Green flag.

He’s pretty nice, funny, and insanely cute. He tells you that the other roommate, a man he calls “Nicholas” is at work, but from the way Vash talks about him you assume he’s a chill dude too

You can’t help but feel a bit intimidated by how attractive Vash is. He’s blonde, with a cute little mole, and his eyes are like…woah

Plus he’s got a cute little piercing !!!

No guy this good looking should be this nice

You decide pretty quickly this feels like a good match, and bam the deed is done

You move in next week, get your stuff situated and suddenly you have two new roommates

Meeting Wolfwood

It’s almost disappointing how little you see of the other roommate in the first week. Vash explains that he’s been taking on extra shifts at work but you still kinda feel like maybe the man is avoiding you?

All you know of the man is that he smokes, drinks a little, and has weird taste in movies

You see random objects strewn across the house that belong to him and you start trying to figure out his personality in your head

You decide that he’s probably some skinny stoner, and you’re pretty confident in that hypothesis until you actually see him

You bump into him in the morning right before you head off to start your first day of class

You literally bump into him-

As he’s leaving the bathroom, you’re in the hallways and a collision occurs. To make matters worse he’s shirtless

And he’s hot

He’s wearing sweatpants, his toned torso out in the open, and his hair is a bit of a mess. You can tell it’s sort of a short wolf-cut though- and it’s definitely working on him

He kinda smirks down at you and says it’s nice to finally “run” into you

And fuck- how are you supposed to survive having TWO hot roomates

General Chaos

You find out pretty quickly that these two are not the most normal people

And you freaking love it

Once Wolfwood’s insane work schedule chills out, you finally get chance to see the duo in action

They kind act like an old married couple. It’s a bit scary at first, and you fear you might be third wheeling but you soon mix into their dynamic quite nicely

Once wolfwood starts calling you some funky nickname you know you’ve wormed your way into their hearts

Your schedules all clash a bit, but you all find time to see each other throughout the day. Wolfwood has a morning class like you, and so you end up eating breakfast together most days. You start taking turns making food for each other

No matter what you both at least drink an entire pot of coffee together, and complain about life

Vash and you meet up in the afternoon, since your afternoon classes are close to each other. He’s the one who texts you the first time to ask if you want to meet up- and your heart does a little flip

It has become a habit. Whenever you two aren’t busy with other things, you’ll sit outside on a grassy area and talk for a second

All three of you hang out at night when Wolfwood isn’t working insane night shifts

Saturdays are movie nights. You HAVE to attend movie nights

It gets crazy. Especially when Wolfwood graciously shares his stuff.

The first time they see you cry- you’re pretty sure they might explode

You’re stressed from school, whatever job you might have, and probably a few family problems too. Vash walks in to your room to ask you what you want for dinner, sees the tears and whips out his phone to tell Wolfwood

He then immediately rolls you up in a blanket and makes you cuddle him on the couch to destress.

He’s insanely patient with you, rubbing your back and letting you vent

Wolfwood kicks open the door with your favorite comfort food moments later, and the three of you sit and watch a stupid movie

Wolfwood keeps his arm around you, and lets you rest your head on his chest

Vash’s hand is in yours

They’re pretty respectful of your privacy at first- but they’re both like the clingiest friends ever

Vash doesn’t mean to- and will apologize if he oversteps boundaries

Wolfwood on the other hand just doesn’t care. He’ll waltz into your room and go “Hey- stop screaming- I need you to make sure I got this math correct.”

Crazy competitive game nights, that sometimes end in you pulling Wolfwood off of Vash as Vash screams for his life to be spared (he like staking stars from Wolfwood in mario party) (It ends in bloodshed every time) (He should really stop)

Grocery shopping is just Wolfwood acting like a dad while you and Vash are off shoveling sweets into the cart (He secretly puts his favorite treats in the cart too though)

You and Vash stage an intervention for Wolfwood when he gets a little bit too into buying random jewelry covered in crosses (“we know you have religious trauma- and yes you look good in them- but come on-”). He walks into the apartment, sees the sign, and then walks out

Vash invites his brother over once and you’re pretty sure you’re about to be cut. (“No Vash- Knives is nice…he’s just scary.” “He just has a resting “I want to murder” you face!”)

Feelings bloom?

They really warm up to you. One day it becomes clear that you’re just…part of them now. Like they can’t imagine you ever leaving their side

It’s the same for you. You walk out one day, and grab your mug of coffee from Wolfwood and…you just kinda spot and think that you really like these guys. Things feel right

I think overtime things just slowly get intimate-

like you start holding Vash’s hand just casually throughout the day

And sometimes Wolfwood will come rest his head on your shoulder from behind, and you’ll reach up and run your hand through his hair

Casual soft touches just become a thing you know?

Vash lets his hand rise under your shirt a bit when you’re sitting with him on the couch

And eventually…maybe they become less casual?

Wolfwood puts his hand on your waist as he passes by behind you

The sexual tension is like palpable

I don’t really know who finally kisses who- or how things go from wholesome to spicy- but it gets there eventually

And soon you three are more than just roommates, more than friends, and even if you don’t know what it is- it’s kinda perfect

You renew the lease for the next year, and you’re pretty damn happy you were homeless for that little bit now

#wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #wolfwood headcanons #vash headcanons

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niftukkun · 10 months

Text

New from RECAP Weekly!!! An Exclusive Interview from Hermitopia's Emperor?!?

for the third week of @shepscapades ’s hermitcraft character design event, i offer grian as an empires smp member!

ok so first off, that head. thats just p03 from inscryption. but grian. it fits! but also! go play inscryption go go its on sale Right Now (until june 30) go play it its so good then go watch this video afterwards join my fandom please please please join us

ok back to hermpires! so i originally was gonna take an empire from s2 and just insert grian into it, but while browsing through the esmp s2 wiki i came across/remembered hermitopia and my brain went yep! this one. so i thought a bit about what grian would do if he was an empires smp member and how hermitopia would happen, and i think grian would crash the economy on purpose. i mean it almost already happened when the hermitpires crossover happened so i dont think im too far off. i think grian originally exported something simple, like maybe sugarcanes or mud, something easy to farm yknow, but then i dunno got bored or something so he made a couple more farms. then kept making more farms. then the hermitopia we all know and love happened!

actually maybe hermitopia isnt grians first empire. i think grian has a separate empire but decided to invite his friends to help him make some farms and then it just kept going. then hermitopia happened. i like the collaboration aspect of hermitopia so i think thats how that happens. hermitopia isnt necessarily grian's but its under his command so it gets called his. (isnt there a word for this? was it vassalage? i think its vassalage)

with that in mind i went with a robot-y grian because grumbot and a snazzy cool suit because business man (sidenote im looking over my pre art notes and one of them is just capitalism man and. yeah! not wrong). i gave him more steampunk-y wings than the usual feathery ones cause that fit better. i gave him a crown not really sure why but it fits since without it the design was more Just A Guy but with it he's more Emperor yknow. the buttons have a g on it because he would and an (attempted) gold trim cause that looked nice and fancy. originally he was gonna have four wings cause fun fact four wings is part of my base grian design but four wings kind of crowded the drawing so i didnt include them (sad) and i also didnt include the tail hes supposed to have because i couldnt find a good way to add it in with the pose. but in my heart he has both four wings and a tail

now why magazine style artwork? i 'unno. i thought itd look cool. and it does!! it looks SO cool!!! im so proud of it. recap magazine!! because of course im gonna make a hermitcraft recap reference are you kidding me recap is practically already a magazine reporting what gossip is happening on the hermitcraft server on any given week. its very specifically volume 9 issue 34 because thats when the crossover happened season 9 week 34 babey we love little esoteric details hell yeah!! i looked up how magazine covers work and its supposed to be like, main article big and smaller supporting side articles just kinda floating around so i did that!! and i made them funney references because of course i did! local bard catches scurvy because you cannot convince me that oli orionsound would not catch scurvy he would. does god is gay is a reference to that does bruno mars is gay nonsense article that makes me laugh everytime specifically in reference about mr smallish bean because he. has so many children. and none of them as far as i know from the lady server members theyre all lovechilds from gay lovers its hysterical and hilarious. quit your job join our sun cult is about the dawn empire because thatse the vibe that empire gives me and i think its funny. also!! thats hermitopia!! in the background!! i got the image off of the empires smp wiki and just Biggen'd it and it makes a bomb ass background hell yeah ^-^!!

also version with no text here lookit it!!

#gamble the queue #reblog #art #my art #digital art #artists on tumblr #drawing #fan art #fanart #hermitcraft #grian hermitcraft #hermitcraft recap #empires smp #hermitcraft empires crossover #fake magazine cover #shepshermitdesign23

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kingofthebeskargoats · 2 months

Text

Secure embrace

Gender neutral reader

Rating: sfw

Word count: 608

Warnings: implied rape (starlight incident)

Comments: Sorry for anyone wanting pedro pascal character fics. I've been reading through the lovely @blindmagdalena ‘s homelander hugging headcannon and found one about what hugging homie would be like

Gif (credit to the creator, please let me know if you dont want me to use your gif):

What a terrible day you just had, the day started off after you woke up with your back being in the most pain you've ever had before, falling on your face while trying to get your pants on, your toothpaste falling off your toothbrush and going down the sink and you spilled your coffee before even taking your first sip of the day.

It's only been your third week working for Vought and so far most of the fellow supes you work with have been good, except for The Deep, who has been harassing you ever since the first day you joined, trying to weasel his way into your pants. You stopped him and he hasn't been off your back since.

You make your way towards the meeting room for the average morning meeting to start off the day, but not before The Deep comes up to you before you are able to notice and escape away from him, being too deep in your thoughts. He starts talking your ear off, trying to show off how cool he is, how many people he saved yesterday and how many fish he looked after, obviously trying to make himself seem greater than he is. You roll your eyes and ignore him as he blabbers on.

As you try to let yourself zone out he grabs your chin and pulls it towards his face. “It's rude not to listen, you know, I should punish you for that.” He says with a sick grin. Before you're able to push him away or say something witty to shut him up, Homelander rounds the corner, noticing what's happening.

“Hey Deep, what'd I say about harassing the new supe?” He asks, The Deep, his face going white, obviously startled, looks up at him and mumbles out something about leaving you alone. “That's right! You agreed that the new supe wouldn't have the same experience that poor Starlight had. I mean who would actually want to be near your junk, aside from a poor ol’ fish you've seduced.” Homelander says, with a grin.

The Deep slinks away after being caught and being humiliated in front of you. Homelander walks up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You ok?” He asks quietly “The Deep is a greasy fish fucker, I wouldn't try to worry about him, if he comes near you again, let me kno-” you cut him off with a big hug. He pauses for a second before hugging you back hesitantly, patting your back a couple times.

You take a breath, he smells pleasantly like lavender, sandalwood and vanilla, all scents you've noted to be from the products he uses to look like the most heavenly and handsome man you have ever met.

He's soft, due to the padding in his suit, yet also provides the right amount of strength to give the best hug, squeezing not too hard to hurt but not being too light either. Probably the best hug you've ever had in your life.

You let him go and he looks at you with a flushed face and a pleased yet also surprised expression. “Ahem… well I'm glad you feel better, I must've needed a hug, huh?” He asks, blinking a couple times after rubbing his neck, “Yeah, pretty shitty day so far” you say.

He looks like he's about to say something to you before the rest of the group turns up, except for The Deep. Homelander turns to them, the blush having left his cheeks and walks towards the others and heads into the meeting room with them.

You hope to see those cheeks flush up again someday.

Masterlist

#homelander x reader #the homelander #homelander #gender netural reader #sfw #tw implied rape #the boys

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anxiouspineapple99 · 6 months

Note

Hellooooo! If you feel like it, might I request...

"Sorry, that was my first kiss."

"I could tell."

"I was kidding!"

with whomever you feel like writing, although I feel like it screams Fives. ;)

xoxoxoxox

Free! My wonderful friend! Thank you so much for the ask! While this is on brand for Fives, I actually was drawn to another one of our beautiful Domino Squad members with this one! Cutup!

A Good Batch

Pairing: Clone Trooper Cutup x GN!Reader

Summary: You’re the head nurse for a Republic Mobile Surgical Unit. Your unit is assigned to the region Domino Squad has been tasked to assist. Cutup is too charming for his own good.

Warnings: none. It’s fluffy and our boys live.

Word Count: 1064

A/N: This is an AU in which all of Domino Squad survive Rishi Moon, Rex claims them all as his chaos sons, and then nothing bad ever happens to them again and they live happily ever after as they deserve the end. Extra points if you catch the Clone Cadets Easter egg I dropped in there.

Prompt:

"Sorry, that was my first kiss."

"I could tell."

"I was kidding!"

…will be in bold blue

You’d been head nurse for RMSU 17 for so many rotations you’d lost count. Every new assignment was the same: Set up, help the men, tear down, move on. You were regularly poorly equipped and understaffed. Resupply visits from the Republic were unreliable, infrequent, and never adequately fulfilled your unit’s needs. But that's how all the RMSUs operated so you and the rest of the staff made do and were creative when you needed to be. You assumed this assignment would be no different.

They had warned you about Domino Squad before they arrived. “A bad batch” they’d been called. Now they were one of the most highly decorated and skilled squads in the GAR. The heroes of Rishi Moon. What you weren’t prepared for was how fully and completely you would fall for one of them.

Cutup captured your attention immediately. He was undeniably handsome with an intense piercing gaze and his tidy well kept beard. But beyond that, he was indomitable and cool headed combined with a sense of humor that regularly left you laughing until you were in tears. You often found yourself seeking his company in the RMSU cantina during your time off. Meanwhile Cutup was accompanying his brothers for medical treatment more often the longer the mission dragged on.

“Hello nurse!” He declared as he threw the hospital wing doors open, flashing you his ten million credit smile. Droidbait had landed himself in hospital for the third time that week which meant Cutup was there for his usual visit and good natured ribbing of his brother.

“Hello again Cutup.” You glanced up from Droidbait’s iv with an affectionate smile. Cutup sidled up next to you sending your stomach reeling.

“My brother. Droidbait. He gonna be okay?” He asked dramatically, throwing his arm across his forehead and flopping across Droidbait’s lap. Droidbait flashed him an impolite hand gesture as you giggled.

“Yes, he’s going to be just fine. Though I do understand how he got the name. I think he’s the first repeat customer I’ve ever had here. I’m considering starting a rewards program just for him. ‘Get three blaster bolts, you get a free surgery’ or something.”

Droidbait glared at you both as Cutup laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. You chuckled as you stepped away to the med cabinet. As you measured out the next round of meds due in ten standard minutes, you felt a presence over your shoulder. You glanced over to see Cutup hovering with a glint in his eye and a sweet grin.

“Oi, leave room for the Maker you too!” Droidbait called from his bed.

“Shhh, Droidbait you need rest,” Cutup scolded with a lazy wave of his hand, his attention never wavering from you. “I just want to thank you. For all you’ve done.”

“You don’t have to thank me. This is a field hospital. I’m a nurse. It’s my job.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

You paused, turning to face him. He smirked seeing the bewilderment painted across your face.

“I’ve seen the long nights you pull when one of us comes through. Droidbait says he has never woken up alone. Echo said you came in on your time off to make sure his wound dressing was changed correctly. Hevy said you visited him in the barracks to make sure his concussion was cleared. With all the attention you’ve paid to my brothers, I’m almost jealous I haven’t gotten injured yet.”

“You don’t have to be injured to get my attention, Cutup,” you said, almost instantly regretting it as a hot flush rushed to your face.

“No?” He asked, his voice rumbling deep in his chest as he stood so close his breath fanned your face.

“I-I would prefer you not get hurt, actually.” Your breath hitched as his amber eyes burned into you. For a moment you could have sworn he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You worried about me, nurse?” His eyes glittered with delight as a cocky smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“I…ahh…” was all you managed to stammer before making up a halfhearted excuse about a patient needing you and rushing off.

You were surprised to find Cutup waiting for you when you finished your shift. You weren’t sure how it was possible but he managed to look even more gorgeous in the radiant starlight.

“Couldn’t let you walk alone so late,” he crooned, approaching you with a confident swagger that immediately drew your eyes to his hips.

“You’re sweet, Cutup. But I’ve walked alone countless times. I could do it with my eyes closed.”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see that.” Cutup cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“Me walking with my eyes closed?” You confirmed incredulously.

“Yeah.” He tipped his chin in a playful challenge.

You sighed and closed your eyes. However instead of proving your point, you walked into Cutup who had stepped directly into your path.

Before you had a chance to protest he firmly grasped your neck, just beneath your jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. You inhaled sharply as your lips collided, his tongue laving your bottom lip before dragging it through his teeth. His kiss was all you could have hoped for and more. His touch was electric, setting sparks alight in your chest. You whined softly as he pulled back, immediately yearning for his touch.

"Sorry, that was my first kiss." You beamed against his lips which lingered over yours.

"I could tell." He chuckled brightly before pressing his forehead to yours.

"I was kidding!" An indignant gasp escaped your lips.

“Hey it’s okay! Baby, you and me could find someplace quiet and practice all night if ya want. I got time,” he cooed smoothly. He cupped your chin, rubbing his thumb across your lips.

You hummed, leaning into his touch. You tilted your head toward your barracks.

Cutup’s eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Unless you don’t…”

“Kriff yes I do! Lead the way.” His hand reached for yours, delicately interlocking his fingers with your own. Even through his gloves, you felt the warmth of his hand. It traveled to your chest and bloomed into radiant joy.

I don’t know what those Kaminoans were talking about. He’s definitely from a good batch, you thought to yourself smiling as you walked hand in hand toward your tent by the light of the stars.

Ye Olde Ragu Lyst: @secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @dystopicjumpsuit @mooncommlink @moonlightwarriorqueen @sunshinesdaydream @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @multi-fan-dom-madness @808tsuika @msmeredithrose @trixie2023 @wolffegirlsunite @mythical-illustrator @wings-and-beskar @wizardofrozz @ladyzirkonia @eyeluvmusic21 @523rdrebel @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @isthereanechoinhere96 @littlemissmanga @sinfulsalutations @the-bad-batch-baroness @freesia-writes

#you asked #and the pineapple answered #first kiss #ask prompt #clone trooper cutup #cutup #tcw #tcw cutup #cutup x reader #anxiouspineapple99 writes #clone trooper Cutup x reader #gn!reader

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longwuzhere · 9 months

Text

Some cool Easter eggs I caught watching My Adventures with Superman that I want to show to people so they can be in on it with comic book readers: For the first episode's Easter eggs it's here

For the second episode's Easter eggs it's here

For the third episode's Easter eggs it's here

For the fourth episode's Easter eggs it's here

For the sixth episode's Easter eggs it's here

For the seventh episode's Easter eggs it's here and here

For the eighth episode's Easter eggs post it's here

For the ninth episode's Easter eggs post it's here

For the tenth episode's Easter eggs post it's here SPOILERS if you haven't seen this week's episode obviously

We start off the episode with this shot of Superman with the drawn on glasses. A good homage to what Lois did in the 1980 Superman II movie...

where she not only drew the glasses but also a full suit and hat on a picture of Superman.

Next we see Jimmy waking up and seeing someone debunking his conspiracy theories on Sub-Diego.

Sub Diego was an actual place in the DC universe before the New 52 reboot. In Aquaman #15 and #16 (2003) , shown here (W: Will Pfeifer, P: Patrick Gleason, I: Christian Alamy, C: Nathan Eyring, L: Jared K. Fletcher for issue 15, Nick Napolitano for issue 16). The underwater city is actually San Diego, but is buried underwater thanks to a tidal wave and makes its first appearance in Aquaman #15 (2003). There was a lot of casualties from this.

When we get to our title its "You Will Believe A Man Can Lie" a reference to the tagline for the 1978 Superman movie.

As seen here on the poster, it says "You'll believe a man can fly".

Next we see our villain, well one of the villains, for the episode, Heatwave.

In the comics Heatwave makes his first appearance in Flash 140 (1963) (cover art by Carmine Infantino, Murphy Anderson, and Ira Schnapp). Heatwave aka Mick Rory is a Flash rogue usually acting as a rival to Captain Cold aka Leonard Snart. In MAwS, their Heatwave shares the same last name and powers, but MAwS Heatwave is gender flipped. You might have seen Heatwave in the CW DC comics shows where he is played by Dominic Purcell in The Flash and Legends of Tomorrow.

Lois, later in the episode, name drops Heatwave's name. Gotta be honest when Heatwave showed up I was like is that Rampage? Cuz the MAwS design looks vaguely like Rampage.

If she does show up in MAwS, I'll talk more about her in another post, but for now, Rampage aka Karen Lou "Kitty" Faulkner, makes her first appearance in Superman #7 (1987) (full page here: W&P: John Byrne, I: Karl Kesel, C: Tom Ziuko, L: John Costanza).

Steve drags Jimmy to film his debunking Flamebird videos and references Starro who I talked about here.

Lois, later runs around with the Daily Planet police scanner trying to catch Superman and the dispatcher reports that a robbery is in progress at McGuinness Luxe Garage.

This is a nice reference to Ed McGuinness who was the artist for Superman, Action Comics, and Superman/Batman in the early 2000s. If you've seen Superman/Batman: Public Enemies, then you'll know the movie takes inspiration from his character designs in the first arc of the Superman/Batman comic series. The Superman/Batman #1 (2003) cover here is done by Ed McGuinness, Dexter Vines, and Dave Stewart. I like Ed McGuinness's pencils, very stylized.

Heatwave name drops Livewire and the Gazzo mod family. Both of whom I've talked about here and here respectively

Heatwave has been running away from Deathstroke here who has been taking our her crew. Notice that Slade Wilson doesn't have the half black half orange helmet yet that almost every Deathstroke depiction always has.

He, Amanda Waller, and the General who I totally think is General Sam Lane, Lois's dad, are fans of DBZ cuz of the scouters they're wearing.

Later in the scene we see the General again he's totally General Sam Lane. I'll talk more about him when we get a double confirmation through a name drop/reveal in a later post calling Amanda Waller, Mandy. What a fucking bold thing to say to Waller! Like damn! power move right there!

Superman and Deathstroke are fighting under a highway and we see the traffic is heading to Bludhaven!

Very good reference to my favorite character in all of pop culture, Dick Grayson aka Nightwing. Nightwing makes Bludhaven his city to protect. The city makes its first appearance in Nightwing #1 (1996) (the panel here - W: Chuck Dixon, P: Scott McDaniel, I: Karl Story, C: Roberta Tewes, L: John Costanza). Fun Bludhaven fact, its crime rate is WORST than Gotham! Also HIGHLY recommend reading the new Nightwing run cuz its fucking amazing! Won a few Eisner Awards (think the Oscars but for comic books) recently and I am not just saying that because I am a Dick Grayson fan.

Near the end of the episode, we see Lois willing to jump off a building to prove that Clark is Superman. A lot of discourse was happening online over this, but I do want to say this is pretty on brand for her to do.

In Superman II, Lois does something similar and Clark saves her. its just in MAwS, Clark flies to save her thus ruining the secret identity, while in Superman II, Clark does save her but he is still able to get away with it thanks to him playing it more subtly.

Don't know why people we're in such a fucking fit over something that Lois has done before.

In the after credits scene, Jimmy, who planned a sasquatch finding adventure with Lois and Clark, but they were dealing with their shit and Jimmy was by himself, decides to do the finding on his own and meets a giant gorilla. In the first episode Jimmy mentions an intelligent gorilla in France and my guess is this is Monsieur Mallah. You can read more about him here. If you made it this far down, I appreciate you taking the time to check this post out and if you want to see my other MAwS Easter Eggs posts - Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 4 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

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theatrelove3000 · 1 year

Text

You’re On Your Own, Kid

This is the first Obi-Wan fic I have posted, let alone let someone other than two close friends read. It took me three months of no time, energy, or inspiration to finish this, but it’s finally done, and I am actually really proud of it. I am thinking about expanding this, depending on the time I have and the inspiration as it comes. Let me know if you like this and want to see more!

Sith! Obi-Wan x former padawan reader

Warnings: I suck at warnings. Uhhh, dark side, mentions of death, maybe manipulation, kissing but only a little, canon violence (dude gets an arm cut off), lightsabers, Sith! Obi. I think that is it. The reader was his padawan but they didn’t start training together until she was already an adult. The reader wears a dress but I don’t think I used pronouns? Lmk if I missed anything else.

Summary: When your master suddenly falls into the darkness, you are left alone to be subject to the watchful, judging, mistrusting eyes of the Jedi Council. It’s one thing to lose a master, you’ve lost one before Obi. It’s something else to lose the man you love. Especially when you can still hear his whispers.

Inspired by Taylor Swift’s You’re On Your Own, Kid! Recommend listening while reading this

Three months, two weeks, and six days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw Obi Wan. He'd go on missions that could be that long, or longer, but this time stretch was harder because you know he isn't coming back. Obi Wan is gone. He left the order. He abandoned you.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

You try to stay upset and hurt about it but it's becoming more difficult by the day. Watching your master walk away from the only home and family he ever knew was a major shock to everyone. He always preached about how the Jedi Order was good, right, and peaceful, yet suddenly, he was gone after causing quite the stir in a council meeting.

He had come back to your shared apartment and marched right over to you, grabbed you by your elbow and drew you into his chest. He was always more physically affectionate with you but this was something different. Something unsettling. He had wrapped you in a tight hug, breathing in the scent of you before dropping his head and whispering one thing in your ear.

"My chains are broken. The force has freed me."

And then he was gone.

It was explained to you later that your master had fallen and you were to be reassigned to complete your training. You had been set to take your trials for your knighthood in a few weeks but due to Obi Wan's sudden switch to the dark side, they feared you harbored the same beliefs he revealed he had to the council.

Your new master is… for lack of a better word, an ass. She is your third master. Your first one, who had selected you at a young age, died a few years back. Obi Wan decided to complete your training, since you were just three or four years from knighthood, already an adult. This new master is short and cold and uncaring. You had just been through a rapid and difficult transition and she held no compassion in her eyes, only wariness and dislike. She didn't trust you.

No one did now. All the friends you had no longer speak to you because they fear you are unstable and dangerous. You never showed signs of leaning into the dark side but because Obi Wan fell, you also must be dark. His apprentice. Only Anakin still speaks to you. Occasionally, Master Yoda invites you to meditate with him as well, though you suspect he is doing so to check on your signature. Master Yoda is a kind and gentle soul but he must be wary. You understand. Sort of.

It isn't until the heat of summer fades and cool winter winds start to blow that you start to hear him.

My darling.

Little dove.

Sweet one.

Angel.

The terms of endearment your master used to call you whisper through your mind, as though he were right behind you. You feel his presence when you're alone and see him in your dreams. You'd thought if you dreamed of him, they'd be nightmares but they aren't. They're sweet dreams. Almost memories but with slight changes.

Mornings after nightmares when you'd wake in his bed wrapped in his embrace, though he lets his hands wander more. Presses kisses to your neck and shoulders. Messing up on purpose during training so he'd have to wrap his arms around you to fix your form but he stands far closer, holding you tightly to his body.

You knew you loved him before he left but he never showed signs of returning the feeling. It wasn't until he was gone that the signs appeared. For a while, you thought it was just your mind grieving the loss of him. That is, until he comes to you.

~~~~~

Anakin manages to convince the council that you need to get out of the temple, take on a mission again. He's always been persuasive, though at first the council wasn't inclined to grant his request. Through many meetings and solid evidence that you're not like Obi Wan, they allow it on the condition that he keeps you in his line of sight at all times. He agrees readily and tells you to pack a bag.

After explaining the mission, he takes you to Padme so she can help you find a dress. You're attending a gala the senate is holding in order to ease tensions, though with the way the galaxy is now it will only raise them.

That's how you find yourself standing in a big ballroom wearing a long sleeve, floor length dress. Despite the dress still being modest compared to the other women around you, you still feel exposed. Your Jedi robes leave everything up to imagination but this dress does not. It's more form fitting and accentuates certain parts of your body in a very flattering way, while still being conservative.

"My, my. What have we here? Did you lose your way, Little dove?"

The voice makes you freeze. You spin around, looking for the owner but see no one. You shake your head, hoping to rid yourself of the panic and hope that had appeared with the voice.

"Did you stray too far from home? Do you need help finding the path?"

You know his voice better than you know your own. He's here somewhere. You can feel his eyes on you even if you can't see him.

You turn slightly, searching the crowd for Anakin. He's talking with some of the senators, Padme by his side. He's occupied.

You start walking.

Letting yourself out of the ballroom, you wander through the halls of the massive building the gala is being held in. You had seen a terrace when you first arrived and been escorted in. There it is. You open the doors and step out into the cool night air.

You don't hear him as he follows you or as he shuts the doors to the terrace. You don't hear him take the last few strides necessary to stand behind you, closing the distance between you. The only sign that you were correct is the feeling of his hands on your hips. They're warm and strong and certain, just as they always were.

"My Little Dove." His greeting is whispered into your hair just above your ear.

"Master-"

"I am not your master any more, my darling." He interrupts you, his voice sending goosebumps down your arms. "I am simply a being you meet in your travels as a pawn in a game your side can't win. I am only a man who has missed you very dearly."

You take a deep breath, praying your voice won't shake as you respond, "you wouldn't have had to miss me if you hadn't gone."

The hum he gives in response is deep, seemingly coming from low in his chest. "It was time for me to go. I hope you can understand. Places to be and people to see, you know."

"You left me. You abandoned me like everyone else."

He tightens his grip on your hips, fingers digging into them. "I did not abandon you. I never left you, Little Dove. I was always there, always watching. It may have been from a distance but you were never alone."

You try to control your emotions, keep your cool, "Your leaving the Order has shown me I have always been on my own. I didn't choose this life, Obi Wan. It was thrust upon me before I was at an age that I could understand it. I don't remember the sound of my mother's voice. I don't know my father's name."

"I didn't choose it either, darling. Very few of us did. To be entirely honest with you, I dreamed of leaving and yet I stayed. Do you know why, my Little Dove?" His fingers are tracing up your sides delicately, never straying into areas he has not gained permission to touch.

Your voice cracks a bit as you respond, "Why, Obi?"

"I stayed because I needed to be around you. Your presence is my vise, your signature is, simply put, addictive to me. It was inappropriate for me to have the feelings I do for you while you trained under me so I kept them at bay as best I could." His nose grazes your temple as he speaks, the edge of his beard lightly scratching your cheekbone as he speaks, "I didn't do as good a job as I thought. Those around us began questioning our relationship. They said horrible things that I will never allow to reach your innocent ears. I could have killed anyone who ever said anything nasty about you. I still can. All you have to do is ask."

Your breathing falters, though you can't tell if it's from fear or shock or something else. If he catches it, he doesn't say a word. "I don't want that. Murder is still wrong, no matter where you stand politically."

"Ah, but don't you see, my Little Dove? I don't wish to kill for political reasons. I kill for you. Anyone who ever hurt you deserves to go."

"You're frightening me, Master," you whisper shakily. He responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

"I do not wish for you to fear me, my love. I only want to protect you, to keep you safe. I can continue to do that from afar as I have been these three months. Or… you could come with me." He keeps his voice low, fingers stroking your sides delicately.

"Where? Where would you take me?"

"Home, Little Dove. I will take you home."

You close your eyes, feeling your resolve beginning to crumble. Suddenly the warmth of your former master against your back is gone. You turn and he's nowhere to be seen. The only sign that you did not imagine it is the phantom feeling of his hands on you.

"All you have to do is call for me, my Little Dove. I'll come to save you from your golden cage."

Suddenly you hear your name being called. It takes you a moment to register that it's Anakin's voice. He sounds a little worried. You turn all the way around for the first time since stepping onto the balcony. You use the force to open the doors.

"I'm here, Ani"

His head snaps to face you at your voice and he quickly makes his way over to you, "I've been looking everywhere for you! What the hell are you doing out here?"

"It was a little stuffy in there. I just needed some air. I'm sorry if I worried you. I didn't think I'd be gone long." You let him lead you back inside. Instead of taking you back to the ballroom, he escorts you outside where Padme is waiting.

"It's fine. I'm just glad I didn't lose you. That… would not have looked good on me." He laughs a little, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly, "it's time for us to head out. We're going to be escorting the senator to her suite in the hotel and then going to our room."

"Yes, Master Skywalker," you bow slightly dramatically, tone dripping in sarcasm.

He laughs, rolls his eyes at your playfulness and shoves your shoulder as you start walking, both of you flanking Padme.

~~~~~

And that's how it began.

You start answering him when he whispers into your mind. You didn't even see him that night but you know it was real. Even if it wasn't, you hope that you continue to hear him. You start feeling him as well. You even catch hints of his scent from time to time. Always when you need him the most.

Those moments became more and more common. The weight of arms around you in those few blissful moments between sleep and wakefulness make you think of him. He whispers encouragement as you train with your new master, even the occasional reminder to help you correct your form or a suggestion to make a motion easier for you. He's still helping to train you. Apparently your four years with him didn't make him sick of teaching you.

It's your next off-world mission that starts to cause your foundation to crumble.

Anakin had convinced Master Windu that he could take you off-world with himself and Ahsoka instead of being with your own master. It was a simple mission. Get into the separatist base, steal the information, get out.

When is anything ever that simple?

Your cover was blown quickly and it doesn't take long to realize this was a trap. You are separated from Anakin and Ahsoka somewhere in the crossfire between your troops and the battle druids. You find yourself in an empty hallway alone, not even a clone behind you.

Looking around, you move back towards the way you came, only to realize you are more than a little lost in this base. You reach out your signature to find Anakin but are met with a different signature. Another, more familiar one.

Obi Wan.

Before you can take a moment to think it through, you're running towards it. You chase the warm, blue signature you've grown oh so attached to deeper into the base. When you reach a door that you can feel him behind, you pause. Pressing your palm flat against the cool metal, you reach out again. Reaching for him. He responds by tangling his signature with yours, but doesn't open the door. You hear a click and realize it's the lock. He unlocked the door. The door still doesn't open. He's giving you the choice. It almost makes you cry.

He is giving you the option to reach him. He isn't forcing you into anything, simply waiting to see how you decide. The Order never does that. All they do is command and demand and give expectations to meet. It's exhausting. You're tired. You miss him.

"Obi?" You whisper to the door. As a response, you hear a small thud on the door as he presses his hand to it where yours is. You can feel the pressure of his power through the door. He whispers your name back to you.

"I'm frightened," you feel your eyes start to water, voice breaking softly, "I just want you."

"I know, my darling. It's alright if you are not ready yet. I'll wait for you. I'll wait an eternity for you." His voice is louder than yours, but not by much. You want to open the door but can't bring yourself to do it. He can feel it. You know he can. His signature brushes over yours gently again, soothing you. He was always good at that.

"I have to go, Master. I'm sorry. I need to find Anakin."

"It's alright, Little Dove. I'll be with you. Always."

You nod and take another moment of weakness before pulling away and running the way you came. It takes you twenty minutes to find Anakin and Ahsoka again. As you reappear, Ahsoka crashes into you, hugging you tight.

"Are you okay!? Your comms weren't working. We've been calling you and sent troops to find you but we couldn't! What happened? Where did you go?"

You push Ahsoka back to look her into her eyes, holding her shoulders. "It's okay. I'm fine. I got lost in the hallways. The droids were coming from that way so I handled it. I just got confused on my way back to you. All the halls look so similar."

You try cracking a joke as you notice Anakin watching you cautiously. He knows something. Looking over, you cast what you hope is a charming smile in his direction. He nods and gives a small smile in return but still looks concerned, though you can't tell if it's for you or because of you.

When you return to the Temple, the council convenes to be briefed on the mission. Anakin credits you with destroying a majority of the Droid squadron within the base. The council seems to be a mixture of impressed and put off by this news. You're not surprised.

You feel nothing for them anymore. They don't do anything but cause more problems for you and those around you. Most Jedi would say the most dangerous feeling to have is hatred. Some say anger. Others will tell you that hope is the worst thing to feel, especially in this war.

No. The most dangerous thing a Jedi can feel is indifference. Indifference causes one to not have loyalty to those they have been sworn to. With anger or hatred or even hope, it shows one still feels attached to something. With indifference, it is not so.

Your indifference is what Obi Wan was waiting for.

~~~~~

The next mission you are sent on is the one that sends you over the edge.

It's another gala you are to attend, this time undercover as a senator's aid. The moment you arrive, you reach out for Obi Wan. You search the room with your eyes and your signature, praying to the Maker that he is there.

As the evening progresses, you stop looking for him. You become distracted by doing your job, working the crowd and getting more information you've been sent to collect. Though the council has seemed to develop more trust in you over the last couple of months, they don't trust you entirely. You have another Jedi with you to keep an eye on you. You don't remember his name, and it doesn't particularly matter to you anyway. He's just a security measure to protect the Order.

"Pardon me for interrupting, Senator Gunray. I was hoping I might ask this lovely young lady for this dance." His voice drips across your ears like bacta over a burn. Your posture relaxes as the senator you were speaking with bows out gracefully, promising to speak with you again later.

You turn and finally see the man you've dreamt of for five whole months, though if you're honest, it's been longer than that. He looks dashing in his white suit and cape. As your eyes trail up from his chest, you catch the hairs of his auburn beard lift as he smiles at you. You see that smile next, the shining and slightly arrogant one you grew used to throughout your few years of training with him.

He reserves this smile for you. The one that shows his pride but also a glimmer of praise for you. He softens whenever he sees you, even if it's isn't noticeable to anyone else. It always was to you. He was a good and kind master, but a better friend. In this smile, you see your friend.

You raise your eyes to meet his and your breath catches. The cerulean ocean you are used to seeing is gone, replaced by molten gold, framed by dark lashes, which seem darker than they used to. Maybe it's just your imagination.

"Remember to breathe, Little Dove. I fear you will pass out if you don't."

You let out a small huff of a laugh as you smile and glance down to your feet. You see him lift his hand to under your chin, raising your eyes back to his. You can see him searching your face for something. He must find it or you are imagining it because he draws away again, offering you his arm to take.

"I believe I offered you a dance, my love. May I have one?"

"Yes, my lord." He leads you out onto the floor. A waltz starts not long after he pulls you into position. As you dance, he keeps you closer to his body than the other partners on the floor. You don't mind, letting yourself melt into his arms for the first time in several months.

Obi Wan was the one who taught you to dance. He had been trying to help you learn to make your movements smoother, more choreographed as you dueled. You kept making jagged, uncoordinated movements that caused you to lose your footing or leave an open spot for someone to strike. Obi had taken your Saber, tossed it and his own to the side, then pulled you in gently. He kept a respectable amount of space between you as he placed your hand on his shoulder and his own on your waist, holding your opposite hand. And he taught you to dance. Slowly, you got the hang of it and he moved back into the forms you were learning. You never lost to him in a duel again.

The dance sessions became almost a regular occurrence. He'd hug you when you were upset and slowly rock you, letting it turn into a silly little dance to make you smile and giggle. He'd kiss your head and twirl you just to make you squeal or blush. Those are his fondest memories of being in the order.

"I have a question for you, Darling."

"I will answer anything you ask of me, Darth Nighte," you respond without hesitation.

He grins widely and lets out a laugh. "You always have, haven't you? My good girl."

You blush slightly and look away from him to hide it. He doesn't like that. He lifts your chin again and raises an eyebrow, warning you not to look away again.

"Did you pick this gown to get someone's attention?" He says it in a teasing tone but you know what he is asking. Is the dress for him?

The dress you selected for the gala was bought with what little you had saved over the years. You had gone out into the city on one of your rare days off to buy it. It was in the shop window and you'd asked to try it on. It was a long sleeved, dark blue dress with tiny gems to make it appear as though you were a part of the evening sky. It's a bit lower cut in the bust than you thought you'd be comfortable with but seeing the way he admires it, you know it was the right decision.

"I must confess, my lord. I fear I am no longer a good Jedi. You see, I find myself disagreeing with the rules and growing agitated trying to suppress my emotions. It feels like I'm being pulled down a different, new path. I can't stand the rule against attachments. I have found that attachments only make you stronger. Maybe that is what they are afraid of…" you trail off as you realize how much you spoke but he holds your eye contact and nods for you to continue. "I have found myself deeply attached to a lord at this very party and I had hoped he'd find the dress pleasing."

"I'm sure he does, my darling. Do I know this lord, do you think?" He knows. He always does.

You smile and glance around as though making sure no one was listening, "I think you know him very well, my lord."

"Then I suppose I'll leave you to him." He starts to release you but you grip onto him tighter. He laughs again, a sound you truly and sorely missed.

Together, you and Obi Wan danced for several more songs. You talk occasionally but mostly bask in the comfort you bring each other. As the night dwindles on and draws to a close, you know you have a decision to make. A path to choose.

Obi Wan senses your panic and turmoil. He searches your eyes again before leading you off the dance floor to a little alcove on the side of the ballroom. He presses you back against the wall and lets his body tower over yours.

"My angel, you do not have to do anything you don't wish to. I don't intend to steal you away and hide you from the galaxy. It is your decision. This is your life. Lead it how you wish to. No matter what you decide, I will always love and support you. Even if I must do so from afar." He leans down and presses his forehead to yours. You can feel the love in his signature. True love. Pure love. How can a feeling so pure be so bad?

Lifting your chin slightly, you let your nose brush his and hear his quick intake of breath. He leans further into you slowly, giving you time to pull away from him. To say no.

You never will.

He lets his lips brush yours. It's gentle, simple, peaceful. He lets you decide how to proceed. Slowly, your hands move from where you had pressed them to his chest up into his hair to pull him closer. He hums in pleasure and pushes you further into the alcove. He kisses you the way you imagined he would. Gentle but dominant. Kind but leading. Persuasive. The Great Negotiator, indeed.

You pull away first, needing to breathe. He lets you go but keeps his forehead against yours.

"Obi?" You whisper to him.

"Sweet One?" He responds.

"Am I ready now?"

"That, my dearest little dove, is not a question I can answer for you."

You nod, feeling the tears form. His hand is holding your cheek and jaw on one side. He can feel when they start to fall. He coos gently and pulls you into his chest, whispering reassurances and words of love.

"I don't want you to go again. It hurts when you go, my Obi." You mutter through the tears. Obi Wan pulls away enough to hold your face with both hands.

"I don't have to. You can come with me, Darling. I have a place for us. It's safe and quiet and peaceful. It's perfect. I made sure it's perfect for you. All you have to do is say yes. Little Dove, you can stay with me. Come with me."

His voice isn't commanding or ordering you. It's… begging. He's begging you to stay with him.

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you look up at his eyes. They're no longer gold the way they were before. They're darker now. Green. Your breathing picks up as you kiss him again. It's a soft, quick kiss. He reciprocates, waiting for your decision.

"Home?" You ask him. He smiles against your lips and nods.

"Home."

"Obi Wan. Take me home."

The burst of joy in his signature is more than enough to convince you that this was the right decision. He kisses you fiercely before retreating and standing up straight. A lord once again. Offering you his arm, he leads you back into the public eye.

As he escorts you through the front doors of the building and towards the hanger, you are stopped by a voice yelling your name. Your Jedi babysitter. You forgot about him. Obi Wan stiffens as he hears it as well, turning his head just enough to see the man behind you. You try to keep going but Obi Wan has stopped. Your panic is beginning to rise again. You'll never be free.

"You are to return to the Temple with me immediately, Young Padawan. This is not a debate."

"I-"

"My apologies, Jedi, but I believe she has made her decision." Obi Wan's voice is calm but there is a hint of a threat in it. He's daring the man to oppose him.

"I'm sorry, Senator, but that will not be happening. She has been asked to return to the Temple."

"Senator? Do you hear that, my darling? Senator. The level of disrespect tossed about by the Order is truly insulting. He doesn't even know my name."

You keep your eyes on Obi, pleading with him through your signature to just take you and go. In your bones, you knew it wouldn't be this easy. If only.

Obi Wan turns and the Jedi recognizes him. His eyes, now returned to gold, are a dead giveaway. The Jedi draws his weapon and beckons you over, holding his hand out as he calls your name again.

"This man is not who you think he is, Padawan. Come with me." He reaches for you again but you take a step back, closer to Obi Wan.

"Maybe I'm not who you thought I was, Master. Or… I think perhaps I am." Glancing up at Obi, you see him watching you with curiosity and… hope. You haven't seen hope in so long you almost don't recognize it.

Your Obi nods at you, just once, and takes a step back. The Jedi is gazing at the both of you with confusion and horror as you look at Obi Wan.

"I told you already, Little Dove. This is your decision. No one can make it for you." His voice calms you. There's no malice in it when he directs it at you.

"He's trying to trick you, Padawan. It's time to go now." The Jedi got close enough to grab your wrist and begin to pull you away. The moment he touches you, your lightsaber is in your hand and the Jedi is screaming. You open your eyes and see the man's arm on the ground between you. His lightsaber falls from his other hand and Obi Wan comes to pick it up. You feel your hands shaking as you watch him replace the Jedi's Saber on his belt before reaching a hand out to you.

"Are you ready now, darling?"

You look between Obi's hand and the man's arm and then at the blood on your gown. You take Obi Wan's hand and leave the Jedi kneeling on the ground of the hanger as you're taken onto your love's ship. He sits you down and pulls off his cape, draping it over you. It's heavier than it looked. He helps to strap you into the co-pilot seat before getting into the pilot seat.

As the ship lifts off, you catch a reflection in the glass of the cockpit window. Your eyes are surrounded by a ring of gold.

You feel Obi Wan take your hand as you reach hyperspace and let him smooth his thumb over your knuckles. You glance up at his beautiful eyes and see they are the blue you missed. You realize something that nearly brings you to tears again. You've been on your own for most of your life, especially when it got hard.

You don't have to be alone anymore. You have your Obi Wan.

~~~~~

@meshlasolus @vi-does-stuff @star-whores-a-new-hoe @turtlelover59 @lowkeyorloki

#sith!obi wan #sith!obi wan x reader #obi wan x reader #obi x reader #dark side of the force #apparently I suck at tags and warnings #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x padawan reader

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damnation-if · 9 months

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Hi, I just played the demo and I loved it! I was wondering if you could give us an estimate of when the next update is coming?👉👈 (Or link a relevant post, if you already talked about and I just didn't scroll down far enough to see it 😆)

Also, I wanted to check, can you be in a romantic relationship with more than one character, and not just a sexual one? Because I might be in love with every single character in this game 🤭

hi, thank you! i'm glad you're enjoying the game :) i've answered the question about romancing multiple characters a couple of times in a couple of different asks but the posts all kind of link back to each other so you should be able to find all the info by. following the various links in each ask i think, starting here XD

i'm going to put the answer to your other question under a cut because some of it is quite emotional for me

i did Sort Of talk about this at the time when it happened, by which i mean that rather than making a post, i talked about it in the tags of an unrelated post i was using to distract myself (i think it was character playlists and how i'm not sure if it's a good idea to do them or not if i recall), but earlier this year while i was already going through a really rough time, my laptop died and i lost a lot of work on the game.

i knew my laptop was old and that this was possibly approaching so i made regular backups and the good news is that because i write in a separate word document and keep backups of those also i didn't actually lose any Writing. however. my twine has a problem in that every second or third game file that i publish from the build is Haunted - it contains passages i removed weeks ago, or writing that i deleted long before publishing it, that kind of weird annoying shit. (other authors have seen my files do this lmfao) and i just have to hope that the backups i make either won't be needed or aren't haunted. anyway... because hope is futile, the last backup i made was indeed haunted, and utterly useless to me as a recovery file. because it's just twine, i still have all the writing, as i mentioned... but i would have to re-code the entire chapter and put it all back together again because of how much the file did not export, which is a complicated and daunting process.

so i made a rambling explanation of this in the tags of a post and decided to take maybe a couple of days off and cool down from this specific disaster before getting into it.

i wake up the next morning to find the IF community absolutely plastered all over with Helpful Informative PSA posts about how Silly it is not to make backups and how if you just make backups you'll never have problems again and you should know better than to not make backups.

now. i'm not a catastrophist. i know for a fact that nobody was making or spreading these posts out of cruelty or a desire to make me feel bad. i also know that it's not particularly realistic to expect people who don't even know me to hunt down the source of a piece of hearsay that's like "i heard from someone that someone said that an author lost a bunch of their files and is really upset about it" to find out what the situation is and whether or not it's what they imagine. i don't even think the vast majority of people knew who it was that was the author involved, or who i am either.

but to already be going through an extremely stressful time and then lose my laptop on top of that and then be obliquely referenced by people i thought of as my peers as kind of just a big silly bumbling goose who didn't know how to manage my files and a "don't be like this person" attitude really, really hurt me. i can't express just how deeply it hurt me. one particular author was openly laughing at me and saying it was my own fault for being too stupid to make backups using a certain twine peripheral program.

so. there was a period of time where i could have found the motivation to just restart the whole chapter myself and re-code it in a frenzy because i wanted to get right back into writing it because. like a lot of authors, i LOVE writing. that's why i do this even when it's difficult. but that potential recovery was sandblasted away by the reactions of people that i thought of as my colleagues in some sense (even though i understand that they didn't do it with bad intentions, in most cases). and i hope people can understand that it greatly lengthened the amount of time i needed to spend away from the game recovering emotionally, despite being a Very Small issue to most people. i'm literally upset again just typing out this answer lmfao

however one other small piece of good news is that my laptop seemingly just lost the ability to turn itself on (because of its age) so i Think the hard drive is intact. meaning that i think i can get someone to pull all the files off it and just have them back fine once i do. the other piece of bad news is that my life is a trainwreck! and i cannot afford that right now. which is why i sort of pivoted to writing the 2000 follower celebration sidegame as a way to enjoy myself while i hurtle through hell sdjgbdfhfdgh

shortly after this thing with the laptop the house i was living in was sold out from underneath me, even though it wasn't supposed to be, and i had to find somewhere to live with my 18 year old cat, but the city i lived in had zero places that would allow cats (they're totally fine with Dogs though of course) so i had to move to an entirely new city on my own while worrying about her health. and right now i spend every fortnight desperately trying to scrape together enough to survive the next fortnight. there were entire months where i had no access to internet! it's been pretty Bad!!

so i get that people really want updates, and i'm really flattered that people do and it makes me happy that people like the game so much. but i am currently expending so much time and energy trying not to die lmfao, and i need to save up the money to get my files back around that. i truly cannot tell you when the next update will be, but i promise you that it Haunts me, probably more than you can imagine XD the sidegame will Definitely come out before it though, if that's something you're looking forward to.

thank you again for your message, and i'm sorry that i don't have good news for you. but i am trying, constantly. every day.

#what does the chaos mirror see #eternal-flame #i hope it doesn't come across like i'm mad about this question because i'm not<3 #it's just that my life is really terrible! and i constantly feel tense and upset about it! lmfao #i was SO nervous when i published the game for the first time that the build i published would be a haunted one lmfao #literally combing through every single accessible passage with a magnifying glass to make sure it wasn't #would it have been better to get the haunting out of the way with publishing the game or keep it for this backup problem?? i don't know #wish it just wouldn't do it i guess. but then again i haven't noticed it as a problem since getting my new laptop #so hopefully i won't have to worry about it in future #hurgh... still not over this properly i guess lmao

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timothee-mybeloved · 2 years

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I’ll follow you to any place

harry styles x actress!reader

In which harry navigates life when you’re constantly on his mind.

Based on Late Night Talking by Harry Styles

Me vs writing Harry fics based on his music🫡

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Harry being a big tease, mentions of a breakup but it’s very brief, Reader and Harry sharing a love I’ll never have in real life, probably gender neutral because as far as I can tell there aren’t descriptions of what the reader looks like, I think that’s about it

This shouldn’t be happening. He shouldn’t be feeling this way…not yet at least.

He could tell you were feeling as shitty as he was when he saw a picture of you taken by paparazzi where you had accidentally tripped and broke your camera, one that he had gotten you as an early birthday gift.

Being apart from each other was absolute torment. The nights where you couldn’t sleep, the ones where he was too busy and you were too free, the ones where you were too busy.

Then there were nights like these—pure bliss—where you would spend them talking to each other as long as you could before sleep washed over you both.

These were the nights you looked forward to the most. It didn’t matter what you talked about, all you ever cared about was hearing his voice. How different it would sound when he talks to you, especially the minutes leading up to the inevitable tiredness he would feel after a long day of work.

You missed this. There had been a time when it was all both of you ever thought about. Having to almost always be away from each other had caused some problems in your relationship leading to a breakup that lasted about 7 months before you realized that distance would never be able to drive you apart and take away all the love you felt for each other.

“Good news!” Harry spoke over the phone, his tone filled with enthusiasm.

“What?” You responded, your own voice matching his excitement.

“I just found out that my schedule is clear for the next two weeks.” He draws out the last part a bit. “That’s great!” You almost squeal.

He will finally be able to fly over to Crema where you had been shooting your upcoming movie for the past two months.

Despite what his job requires him to do more often than not, harry hated the constant moving around. He always preferred to be in one place. The change of scenery bothered him a lot but if it meant that he could be with you and actually be able to touch you the way he’s been dying to for the last couple of weeks then he’d travel around the world just to catch a glimpse of your face.

“Does this mean you’re coming to Crema?” you ask shyly, you didn’t want to sound too happy so soon.

“Already bought my ticket, darling.” You loved it when he called you that, the nickname coming from his lips always managing to make you flustered.

“I can’t wait to see you, harry.”

“Me too.”

“I have to go now but I’ll see you soon, right?” You figured he’d surprise you since he didn’t tell you when he was coming.

“You will.”

“Okay, I love you.” You tell him. “Love you too, sweets.” and you make a little kissing sound at that and hang up the phone.

Needless to say he couldn’t get you off his mind until he fell asleep, his subconscious deciding to not get thoughts of you out of his dreams either.

One day had passed since the call and he didn’t show up at your hotel room, second day gave you absolutely nothing but nerves and then the third day rolled around.

It was the fourth day and you weren’t expecting him to arrive but he did…when you were sleeping.

Your body covered by a blanket, your naked leg hanging out of one side to keep it cooled off.

Harry walked over to where you were lying unconscious, you looked so peaceful he thought to himself.

He took off his shoes and quietly got into bed with you, carefully placing a hand on your arm so you wouldn’t wake up.

He slowly started scattering little kisses on your shoulder blade moving up to your neck, going back and forth until he felt you squirm a bit.

You gained sense of your surroundings but not too much that your brain registered who had been pressed up against your back.

It was a burst of emotions when you fully comprehended it was Harry, shooting up from your sleeping position and looking at him.

You practically bounced onto him, engulfing him in a tight hug as you inhaled his scent. Showering him with kisses before you moved to his lips, taking your sweet, precious time with them because of how much you loved the way they felt on yours.

Finally breaking away when you were breathless.

“You asshole, why didn’t you try calling me at all?” You jokingly scold him, smacking his arm in a playful manner.

“I wanted to surprise you.” of course he did. “Harry, you know how much I hate waiting when I know you’re coming to see me.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah well I like you more when you’re needy for me.” He says with a goofy grin on his face and you don’t miss the flash of lust in his eyes.

“Wait till tonight and I’ll show you real neediness.” You tease. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” You kiss him again.

“I love you so much, you know that?” Harry says, his eyes on you. “I do now.”

And for probably the millionth time ever since he’s met you, he can’t get you off his mind and he doesn’t even want to try to.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x actress!reader #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry fanfic #don’t worry darling #dunkirk #harry x you #harry x y/n #one direction

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umgeorge · 1 month

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We Sat Down With George Russell Ahead Of Grand Prix Weekend

Nothing beats the buzz you'll find in Melbourne ahead of Grand Prix weekend, but the energy in the room with George Russell-British racer who steers the mighty W15 for Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team-is nothing but relaxed. His green room is a cocoon of calm in an otherwise chaotic weekend of press, brand obligations, training, and, of course, actually driving the damn car come lights out on Sunday. Greeted with a cool fist bump ("You alright, mate?"), George parks himself across from me ahead of his appearance at the IWC Chadstone boutique that same evening. Smiles on, eyes attentive, and, of course, with his timepiece in full view of the cameras, we get straight into it with the man who's always on the clock, be it his own, the FIA's, or someone else's.

John McMahon: "George, give us your favourite moment from last season. If you had to pick just one." George: "Crossing the line in Abu Dhabi to secure P2 for the team in the championship, for sure. There was such a tight battle with Ferrari for a number of races and when we went into that race it was sort of me and Charles battling it out, then suddenly, Perez came through quick and he had the five second penalty and it went down to half a second. That was the difference between us finishing second in the championship or third in the championship, and that's 2,000 peoples' bonuses back at the factory, as well. So that was a relief to secure that result for the team."

JM: "What about the off-season? Favourite moment? Do you ever feel like you really switch off?" George: "I would say I managed to switch off for about a week during the off-season, which is pretty good, but I've always got racing on my mind and I'm always dropping my engineers messages and phone calls just with ideas I have of how we can improve. But I think my favourite moment was just seeing my niece and nephew. My sister had a child, as well, in the off-season, so that was a special moment. But just doing normal stuff, being a normal person is what I like the most."

JM: "So you wore a few different watches from IWC last year, but it looks like the one you wore the most was the Ceratanium Top Gun Double Chrono." George: "Yeah, that's my favourite by far. I love it because, when I joined Mercedes as a junior driver, that was the watch that I said I wanted, and when my first IWC arrived from the team it wasn't that watch. [laughs] And it was only three years later that I managed to actually get my hands on that watch when I could afford it and I was actually a part of the Mercedes team, so it means something to me. I think it just looks really, really cool, doesn't it? It's not too out there but it's got quite a sporty look to it, so you can wear it daily. It's my go-to."

JM: "If you had to pick a watch for traveling, a watch for the paddock, a watch for date night… where would you land?" George: "Hmm, for the paddock... Probably what I'm wearing currently, the new Mercedes team watch, the Performance Chronograph from IWC. It's similar to the Top Gun in terms of the colour and the style, but the Petronas green details add a layer of depth, so that would definitely be my paddock watch. Date night, probably the Portugieser Annual Calendar. Keep it classy." JM: "And travel?" George: "I really like the-I can never pronounce it as gracefully as the Swiss-Ingenieur. It's light, easy on the wrist, and fits under a cuff as well. For travelling you never want anything too bulky."

JM: "Last year you did probably one of my all-time bucket list experiences. You embraced the Top Gun ethos in a RAF Typhoon fighter jet. It's probably the only career that's faster than an F1 car. Did it ever appeal to you, that career?" George: "It never appealed to me, but since having the experience of… Well, firstly, I just thought I was going to be a passenger. I didn't know at the time they were going to let me fly, and getting the chance to actually fly it myself, I mean, experience of a lifetime, and would really love to get back up there, because it is like a Formula 1 car up in the skies." JM: "There are a lot of parallels, aren't there?" George: "It's so agile and quick. You've got the joystick in front of you, you just move it and the thing just rolls over instantly. It's the same with an F1 car, when you're traveling, you know, 330 km/h down the straight, you turn into the corner and you zoom immediately to the other side of the track. You're in the cockpit in both respects, but the team is like such a massive part of making that operation actually happen. There's so much camaraderie between everybody. It was like a family away from home as it is for us in Formula 1. Awesome experience, so yeah, a lot of respect for what they're doing."

JM: "The inverse of that: What's the most boring thing about being an F1 driver? You can say interviews like these, I won't be offended." George: "What do you think is the most boring thing about being an F1 driver?" JM: "Probably interviews like these, no? Being pulled left, right and centre the whole time. How about time on a plane?" George: "I want to do the numbers, but I reckon over the course of a year we would spend closing in on I'd go as far as almost a whole month on a plane. All of the flights within Europe alone, I'm doing probably five flights a week on average. There are 4,000 people who travel the world for Formula 1, and it's a very luxurious lifestyle on the face of it, but a lot of time away from home, away from loved ones, a lot of time zone shifts, brutal on the body, but you know we wouldn't change it for the world because we love what we do. It's the best job in the world."

JM: "Let's talk Vegas. It didn't go quite according to plan for you last year, but was such a momentous occasion for the sport and to be under the lights. Talk us through that first time you drove the car down that strip." George: "It was fast and bumpy, one hell of a ride. On the face of it the circuit seemed pretty underwhelming, but when we drove it, it had a huge amount of character. It was great for racing and it was very challenging to drive; really low grip. We were the only category racing, so the track was very green and dusty, so for drivers it was a unique challenge. I think in the race we were doing about 350 km/h. It was very difficult to spot the breaking points 120 metres out. When you're racing in the dark, you've got the buildings between you, all the lights at such wild speeds, it was surreal."

JM: "Aside from the obvious, do you have a personal goal for 2024 that gives us some sort of insight into the man that is George Russell? It could be getting better at Spanish on Duolingo…" George: [laughs] "My girlfriend would love that. No, just to enjoy the journey. I think it's so easy to get caught up in the competitive nature of the sport and the emotional rollercoaster that you go through, the highs and the lows. It's a psychological toll on the body, so you need to turn that into good energy and positivity, happiness, and that's what I'm gonna try and do a bit more of in 2024. We've all got this one life and you just need to maximise it and the days fly by."

JM: "On that same thought then, you've got the likes of Fernando, who we wouldn't be surprised if he's still racing when he’s fifty, and then you've got Nico, who's out on top after taking the championship. Are you a race until the body says no, kind of guy?" George: "I'll be here for a long time. I don't know what I'd do without it, to be honest. I'm not one of these guys who has all of these interests outside the sport. Some people need their passions outside to disconnect as a way of enhancing their performance on the track, and I respect that. For me, my life is racing. But I'm far from achieving what I set out to and believe I'm capable of. The seasons are becoming intense, very intense, and increasingly more challenging with the number of races. I'm fit and healthy and young at the moment, and I'm dealing with it absolutely fine, but I want to make sure that in ten years' time, when I'm 35, that I can deal with a 24 race calendar and I'm still fit and I'm still performing on the top of my game."

JM: "When you get off the plane here in Melbourne, what excites you most about the weekend ahead?" George: "Those first laps and the first practice. That's always a really exciting moment because you head into a race weekend with the unknown. We have an indication of what this weekend's going to bring. We're pretty confident a Red Bull is going to be at the sharp end of the grid. We don't know if we're going to be up there fighting with them, if we're going to be on the back foot, if the car's going to be performing well, if I'm going to be performing well, and those you get an indication after about three laps on track of how your weekend's gonna pan out and it's always a really exciting moment, the unknown. I just can't wait to jump into that car again."

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