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cuteandhughesy · 5 months ago

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I’m Talking Nonsense╰┈➤ MR96

summary: everyone in the avalanche social media room knows that getting mikko rantanen to participate in content was a lost cause—that is until you showed up.

[word count] 4.3k

a/n: okay…so obviously I started writing this before the trade—because nobody in their right mind was expecting mikko to get traded. but I digress, anyways! I originally wanted to post this on valentine’s day but in this moment of sadness, I knew all the mikko girls (myself included) needed this pick me up ❤️ to all you liking my old mikko fic—I see yall and we got this.

🎵 nonsense by sabrina carpenter

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mikko rantanen didn't hate social media — actually, no he did hate it. the finnish native always knew it to be invasive and impersonal, and he'd rather not have to look at fake happy, posed pictures and videos that make his life feel less than. and that's coming for a guy living as a professional athlete.

so when tiktok started gaining more traction and other nhl teams were making accounts for their respective teams—mikko was dreading it. he thought there was a level of privacy that should be respected, and having a camera shoved in your face is totally breaching boundaries. the thought of the avalanche making an account was just not something he wanted.

after a shitty practice—hell even a good practice—the last thing he wanted was to be asked if he thought he could land a plane, or if he believes in aliens...mikko just wanted to go home.

and mikko understands that the social admin was simply doing their jobs, but he couldn't help but fill with irritation anytime they'd approach him with the phone and mini-microphone and/or question cup. it was the quickest way to piss him off.

it didn't help that the avalanche fans were always in the comments asking about his noticeable absence. they wanted to see more of their assistant captain outside of gruelling post-game interviews and game highlights—they wanted the real and fun side of mikko they very rarely had the chance of seeing.

but that didn't change mikko's opinion of social media—he'd avoid the admin team at any costs, especially when he saw that stupid tiktok phone and various props he knew he'd hate to use.

that is, until you showed up.

the first time mikko saw you—standing behind the usual admin suspects with a nervous gaze and fiddling hands—he didn't think much of it. sure, you were pretty, but mikko thinks a lot of girls are pretty.

but then as the months past and your surprisingly warm and bubbly personality began peeking through your hard exterior shell, mikko begin feeling intrigued. you are always smiling, even if someone is giving you a hard time—when he is giving you a hard time—and you're constantly trying to bond with the players. you remember who these athletes are at their core—human, which a lot of people in your job description seem to forget.

the team quickly grew fond of you, and when they saw it was you in the hallway with a cup of questions, or in their locker room with that stupid tiny microphone—the energy would shift. that's just how you are though—vibrant and welcoming, and the guys feed off that energy and turn into a fun group of giddy boys.

even nathan mackinnon, who was almost as turned off by social media as mikko, enjoyed your company, doing silly things for tiktok's he'd never even dreamed of.

it had mikko's own exterior beginning to crack. before he'd be more apprehensive to the idea of participating in social media trends he had no clue about, but you and your grin had him changing.

—

lina, your co-worker looks at you over the top of her laptop, analyzing your soft face as you work on your own computer—editing a tiktok that needed to go up today. you're left with very minimal time, as the avalanche practice finishes in 5 minutes. which means in 15 you both have to head down for some more content.

it's the third time in the past minute lina as looked at you—you can feel her eyes burning through the middle of your forehead. slowly, your eyes trial up and meet hers, a questioning pull to your furrowed eyebrows. "you okay?"

she huffs—not in annoyance or impatience, but rather curiosity. lina flicks her red hair over her shoulder, and then crosses her arms—her gaze never leaving yours. "i'm trying to figure out how you do it."

you're even more confused now. "do what?"

lina snorts like it's obvious. "you've been here five months, y/n. it's been five months of watching you work with the guys and more specifically, getting mikko to work with you."

your lips contort into a confused pout—any more confusion and your head will begin to pound. you're not sure what lina is trying to imply, because as far as you know all the guys on the avs are extremely good with you and have never given you a hard time—that's just how they are...right?

"mikko is great." you hum dismissively, your fingers resuming their place on your keyboard as you continue the code in your side bar to enable the audio change in the clip—attempting to remove ross' loud voice from the background so you can better hear cale's answer.

"that's the thing," lina starts, eyes full of amusement as she leans over the table. "he's really not."

you pause. "what?"

"before you showed up, mikko was always turning a blind eye to me and nick. if we even attempted to talk to him the way you do—well, it never ended how we wanted it to." her face contorts as if she's reliving it.

one of your brows raise in question. "did he like...sentence you to a guillotine or something?"

lina disapproves of your humorous tone, sending you daggers across the meeting room table. she shuts her laptop, resting her elbow atop the logo as she puts her chin in her palm. "ha ha."

satisfied with her pointed response, you get back to work. but, lina isn't done. "he hates this kind of stuff."

"no he doesn't," you retort quickly. "mikko seems happy when I have questions for him. in fact, yesterday he came over to me and asked for one—said something about how they 'make his day bright'" you mimic mikko's deep accent to the best of your abilities, but you sound more like a drowning troll rather than the 6"4 winger.

lina's eyes widen comically—she can't believe what's she's hearing. "anytime I even point the phone in his direction he scowls and walks away. so what are you doing to get him to cooperate?" she eyes you quizzically for a moment before a devious lightbulb goes off in her head, expression morphing into a playful, teasing one. "are you fucking him?"

you squeak, and your cheeks heat up to an undeniable level of embarrassment. "no!" and it's true—of course you're not sleeping with mikko.

she raises her hands in surrender, but her smile doesn't let up. "I wouldn't blame you if you were, y/n. he's hot—like stupid hot."

"okay," you huff, covering your burning cheeks with your hands. "maybe you should sleep with him then."

lina snorts. "trust me—if I could get near him I would."

"you know," you start, "I really don't think what you're saying is true. maybe mikko didn't like it in the past, but I think he's changed his option on the social media stuff."

she raises her brow—almost challengingly. "think so?"

"yup." you hum.

"let's test it, then." lina chimes. "today i'll go up to mikko first, and ill do exactly what you would do when approaching him. and when he sends me away—which he will—then you'll go up to him, and we'll see what happens."

it's tempting—mostly because you're certain there won't be a difference in the way mikko acts towards you then he does lina. sure, mikko isn't always the most sunshine and rainbows when it comes to his personality, but he's always been compliant with you.

so although he's broody and definitely not in love with the idea of having a camera in his face—you're sure he's not going to turn lina away.

"you're on."

it's not 5 minutes later you're both packing up your respective things, preparing to make your way down to the locker room where the guys are surly anticipating your and lina's arrival.

the room is bustling with people—half dressed hockey players and pressing reporters fill the locker room, which creates a slightly hectic environment—but you're used to it by now. so neither of you seem suspicious, you ask a few of the other avs players your selected questions for the day. questions you and lina had argued about for the entire morning—she thought most of them were stupid, you thought they were was hilarious.

plus, the reporters are still swarmed around mikko's stall—the finnish native standing in the middle with a deadpanned look on his face, barley listening to them as they ask the same repetitive questions as usual.

you and lina get some good content from ross colton and josh manson, both players giving you ridiculous and enthusiastic responses to the absurd questions you'd earlier shoved in the alumni silver cup.

lina's mischievous look is back as the sea of middle aged reporters move onto their next victim—cale makar—leaving mikko by his lonesome. "i'll be back." before you can react, she plucks the phone out of your hands, effortlessly making her way through the room until she's in front of mikko.

you strain your ears, but it's no use as the chatter in the locker room is too overpowering, and you're unable to hear lina or mikko. miles wood gives you an odd look—eyeing the way you stand ridged beside his stall, gnawing your thumb as you watch lina talk to the blonde winger—but you don’t notice.

it's only a moment before lina turns around, her grin even wider than it was before as she makes her way back towards you. "your turn." she chimes, thrusting the phone back in your palms.

"what happened?" you question.

lina raises one her brows, pushing you in the direction of mikko's stall. "he didn't want to answer anymore questions."

"okay," you draw. "so maybe I shouldn't go over there."

lina continues guiding you in his general direction. "no it's actually exactly why you should go over there."

you don't get to argue any further as you're suddenly right in front of mikko—almost too close, and if you take another step towards him you're thighs will bump his knees.

speaking of thighs—mikko's are on full display. the huge, muscle carved limbs spread wide as he manspreads in his stall. the expanse of smooth, hard skin making you feel flustered and suddenly intrigued. your eyes flicker upwards, finding the icy blue ones of mikko looking back at you.

you swallow, a heat rising to your cheeks. "hi, mikko."

"hi, y/n." he says your name playfully, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. "you okay?"

you nod too quickly and immediately curse yourself for acting so uncool. you've never been this nervous around any of the avs, especially not mikko, but lina's comments about his looks earlier are lingering in your mind—leaving you flustered.

because obviously you are aware mikko is hot, but now you can't help but be really aware of the fact. damn lina.

"yeah," you clear your throat, clutching the cellphone tightly in your hand. "I was actually just wondering if you'd answer a question for tiktok? for me? promise it'll be quick."

his eyes flicker over your warm, hopeful face, and after a beat he sighs gently, a quick nod following. "yeah I can do that for you."

you can't help the way your eyes widen at his agreement. mikko seems oblivious to your shocked state, removing his remaining elbow pad and tossing it towards the back of his messy stall.

you catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent, and even with the sweat lingering across his forehead and soaking his branded undershirt, mikko smells so good. he's always been enveloped in a cloud of clean laundry and something slightly woodsy, and even though you're extremely professional, it never fails to make you falter.

you clear your throat and your head. "really?"

mikko runs the damp towel previously hung around his neck through his messy curls, making the appearance of them even more fluffy and soft. his eyes twinkle with amusement, a matching half smile blossoming on his lips. "yeah, really. why do you sound shocked?"

you make a tiny noise of confusion in the back of your throat, shooting a glance to lina over your shoulder. she sends you a triumphant look, brow raised like she knew that she was right.

she is right.

you look back at mikko quickly, "I just thought..." you trail off, brows pulling tightly as you think about the excuse he gave to lina—you're so confused. you've never noticed before if mikko had a certain favouritism towards you over lina, or even nick. I mean, you never paid attention to anything like that—but now you feel like you should be more aware, because this doesn't make sense.

"you thought..?" mikko raises one eyebrow, waiting for the second half of your sentence.

"nothing." you blink quickly, adjusting the phone in your hand. "sorry, let's just get to it."

you're still in some sort of shock for the rest of the day—the pieces of the puzzle in your mind loose and turned upside down as you try and understand mikko's dismissal of lina, or better yet, his compliance with you.

it had you further trying to solve the mystery. does mikko just prefer you? does he like your voice over your co-workers? maybe you smell like his favourite desert? does he like you? does mikko want to fuck you?

you're not sure where to pinpoint the source, but you're also determined to find the answer. with some help for lina, and even a little input from nick, you conjure up a plan—which lina finds the upmost entertainment in.

but you mean nothing but business. for the next few weeks it's only you who works with mikko rantanen—it's you asking him questions and having him participate in stupid games. and without fail, every single time you ask him, mikko complies.

so you get crazier with it. whether it's a questions about my little pony—a show mikko has never even heard of—or having him lift you onto his shoulder while a sabrina carpenter song plays through the tiktok recording—he is participating without complaining.

every. single. time.

it has your good friends, but ever so annoying colleagues theorizing.

"maybe he's got a thing for girls with her hair colour? can't resist them." nick chimes, sipping some piping hot coffee from an avalanche branded mug.

you roll your eyes, pulling open the microwave to grab your shitty frozen meal.

lina's laugh echos through the staff room, "mhmm...or maybe her eye colour." she sends you a teasing look before slurping some saucy noddles up into her mouth.

before you can respond nick pipes up again, "he definitely wants in her pants."

you take a seat beside lina—across from your male coworker—and send them both a slightly amused, but deadpanned look. "are you guys done?"

despite your attitude towards them, you can't help but wonder if their theories are correct. sure, mikko seems sweet enough—towards you anyways—but with the way you're barley pushing him into participating in stupid little tiktok's, has you pondering. mikko is nice...but not that nice.

is he just trying to get into your pants? and then forgot about you? the thought has you feeling angry, because you're not just some girl who he can treat nicely until he gets what he wants—absolutely not. and you're not going to let him treat you like a fool, just because he wants his dick wet.

the following day you’re determined to get answers and put your mind at ease. you like mikko—he’s a great guy—but you don’t want to feel like you’re being used. there was a team meeting and breakfast today, without the pressure of practice or a game—essentially an off day for the guys.

as the chaos of the dining room begins clearing out, only a few lingering athletes and staff members at some of the tables, you make your way across the room with a determined step, looking for mikko.

you catch the broad expanse of his back and blonde hair sticking out from underneath his beanie just as he slips out the door. you grumble to yourself, speeding up in hopes to catch him before he leaves the facility.

pushing open the rather heavy door to the hallway, you’re immediately greeted by his familiar laugh and gabe landeskogs smooth voice—spewing some dad joke that only mikko would find funny.

before you can sike yourself out, you march up to the two european teammates. “rantanen, I need to talk to you.”

they pause in their slow steps, conversation halting abruptly as both men turn to look at you. the sight of your hard expression and pointed gaze has mikko swallowing roughly, eyeing you with confusion.

gabe snickers quietly, the sound missing your ears, and pats mikko’s shoulder sympathetically. “last name, huh? good luck.” with that the avalanche captain stalks off, disappearing down the quiet hallway.

you cross your arms defensively, looking up—way up—at him, tone rough and determined. “are you trying to fuck me or something?”

“whoa whoa, just hold on a second.” mikko’s eyes widen, looking around the hallways quickly to ensure you were alone. even though he doesn’t see any physical bodies, mikko can’t be too sure—especially when he can sense the conversation is going in a direction that doesn’t need to be overheard.

he gently takes ahold of your wrist, guiding you towards the open meeting room directly across from the kitchen. the censor lights flicker alive as you step into the empty, quiet room—illuminating the once dark space.

mikko lets go of your arm, shutting the door with a soft click before turning back to you. he analyzes your face, eyes flickering over your still pointed eyes and the angry pull to your mouth. confused, he steps towards you. “are you joking with me?”

you raise your brows. “do I look like i'm joking with you, mikko?”

he shakes his head gently, like he’s trying to come up with a reason for your sudden coldness—you’ve never acted this way around him, and seeing you so irritated is rather strange. “why are you asking me that?”

he’s referring to the first question you’d asked him—rather angrily may he add. mikko is unsure what brought on the rather sexual outburst of a question, only because it’s so unlike you. in fact, one time ross colton tried to make a sexual innuendo with you, and you just about turned the colour of a ripe apple.

mikko thinks he must’ve done something—or said something to make you not only think like that, but ask him about—without so much as a blush on your face. you were serious.

you cross your arms again, defensive walls still built high. clearing your throat, you look away from mikko and towards the navy blue patterned rug covering the floor. “ why are you so nice to me?”

you practically whisper, timidly running your foot along the worn out carpet.

mikko blinks. “what?” he’s even more confused now—because why wouldn’t he be nice to you. you’re sweet, and respectful, and funny, and beautiful, and you’re you.

you meet his eyes again, expect this time there’s more emotion swimming in them, and you’re slowly coming down of your flurry of anger—left with fear and your own confusion. “like..,” you start unsure, “you only do the media stuff when i'm the one asking you to. are you only being nice to me so that like, you'll get in my pants?”

you’re right, he thinks. he only does media when you ask, but it’s not because he suddenly wants to if you’re the one asking, it’s because he can’t say no to you. mikko never wants to see you sad—he never wants to see the current look on your face when he can help it.

mikko shakes his head, slow and steady. “no. that's not why i'm nice to you.”

“no?” you parrot, the tiniest hint of disbelief in your tone.

“no.” mikko repeats firmly. “i'm nice to you because I like you.”

“like as a friend?” you gulp, arms falling to your sides as you’re no longer strong enough to hold them around yourself.

mikko doesn’t see the point of hiding his true feelings any longer. the thought of you thinking he had ulterior motives with his kindness literally makes his stomach hurt, and he can’t have you believing he’s trying to use you for his own benefit.

so with a gentle sigh, he takes another step closer to you, eyes softening as he takes in your hesitant gaze and red cheeks. “more than a friend.” mikko admits gently.

your face falls, “oh.” you’re in some sort of shock, looking up at the winger with parted lips and wide eyes. the way mikko is looking at you, so raw and real, has any lingering hesitance falling away, and your expression quickly shifts.

“yeah, oh.” the corner of mikko’s plump lip slides upwards, the beginning stages of a lopsided smirk growing on his flushing face.

he reaches towards you, slowly, hands enveloping the sides of your head as he holds you in his palms. mikko’s hands are so warm and big, completely covering your cheeks and ears—the feeling itself has you turned on.

your breath hitches as mikko’s rough thumbs begin running over your cheekbones, stroking your warm skin absentmindedly.

his tongue licks along his bottom lip, moistening the skin slowly. mikko swallows gently, not once taking his gaze off your flustered face. “but like, just so there’s no confusion, I would eat you out on the table until you’re crying if that’s what you wanted.”

you inhale sharply, stomach dropping with excitement and adrenaline. your body flutters at his words, “mikko.” you whine in a whisper, hands reaching out and resting against his hard pecks. you have no control of your hands, the need to feel him under your palms too strong. you begin running over his covered chest, his muscles tightening and nipples hardening under your deliberate touches.

mikko huffs shakily before he comes down, kissing you with as much passion he can manage. his lips are surprisingly soft and smooth, enclosing and teasing yours in a messy, hard way. the feeling has your stomach swooping further, toes curling in your shoes as the kiss grows harder—needier.

suddenly, mikko’s hands run down your body, passing over your ass with a firm squeeze. you moan into his mouth as his hands find the backs of your thighs, picking you up.

you gasp as he lifts you effortlessly, sitting you on the table like it’s nothing—mikko smirks at the sound you make, and he can’t help the way his dick twitches in his pants. his wet lips trail off your mouth, travelling over your jaw and down your neck where he continues giving you hot, and hurried kisses.

reluctantly, your eyes flutter open, running a hand under mikko’s beanie, gripping the base of his hair between your trembling fingers. “we can get in a lot of trouble for this.” you breathe.

despite your words, your hips rolls against his hardening length, your cores at the perfect angle with you sitting on the table to grinding together deliciously.

mikko pulls back, eyes glazed with lust as he grins. “I know. so we'll just have to be sneaky.” his words are husky, sending your blood pumping and head swirling with need.

he leans back in, giving you another eye rolling kiss. you push his hat off his head completely, giving yourself free reign of his messy curls, tugging the blonde strands as your heart desires.

mikko pulls you closer on the tabletop, further bumping your clothed heat against his. his large hands slide underneath the back of your top, running over your spine and fiddling with the edge of your lacy bralette.

you sigh trembly, disconnecting the kiss. “i'll have to stop asking you questions though. because now I really won't be able to control myself around you.”

the admission has mikko smirking, biting his lip seductively. one of his hands round to your front, groping your tit over your bra. “I turn you on baby?” he already knew the answer to his question—your hardened nipples and shifting hips giving him all the information he needs.

you laugh through a breathless exhale, and you gently hit his shoulder. “be serious. you'll have to tolerate lina, and start saying yes when she asks you to do things.”

“no promises.” he chimes playfully, hands running back down your torso—leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you give him a soft, serene smile, which as mikko following suit—looking at you the way he always has. “I really like you, mikko.” you admit gently, one of your hands running over his building bicep before sliding around to rest on his shoulder blade.

for a moment, his smile remains admirable, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that has ever mattered. mikko has been dreaming of the day you say those words, and actually hearing you speak them is just otherworldly.

but because he’s a boy, and you’re his dream girl with his spit coating your plump lips—he can’t help himself. mikko’s hand rounds to your front, dipping underneath the waistband of your leggings and sliding over your underwear. he thumbs your clit over the thin material, and your mouth goes slack at his touch.

he breathes, smirking at the feeling of your arousal soaking through your panties. “yeah I can tell.”

“shut up.” you huff, pulling him back in to continue your desperate kiss.

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justdiptych · 2 years ago

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There's a scene in Fallout: New Vegas that I find really interesting in how it uses skill checks in dialogue. A merchant company, the Crimson Caravan, want to buy out one of their rivals, Cassidy Caravans, and they hire the player character to negotiate the deal. The player has likely already met the rival company's owner, Rose of Sharon Cassidy, by this point - in fact, it's entirely possible that she suggested they ask the Crimson Caravan for work in the first place.

Cass is propping up the bar at a truck stop on the border near the game's opening area. She's heard that her caravan has been destroyed in her absence - her employees killed and their wagons burned in an attack on the road - but she can't investigate because of a bureaucratic hold-up. The man in charge of the border post, Ranger Jackson, has halted all commercial traffic across the border because of dangers on the roads - wild animals, bandits, and enemy soldiers - that the authorities are struggling to get under control.

When the player brings the Crimson Caravan's offer to Cass, she refuses on principle. Her business may have effectively been destroyed, but she's too proud and too stubborn to sell her surname for any number of messes of pottage. Convincing her requires that the player employs one of either their Speech or Barter skills - there are two options for each, requiring either moderate or high investments of skill points. Skill and Barter are the game's two Charisma-based skills, and it's not uncommon for them to appear side-by-side like this, but here, they diverge in application.

The easier Speech option is simple - the player just reminds Cass that, if she sells the business, she won't be commercial traffic anymore, so she'll be able to get across the border. She's itching to get on the road again, so this convinces her. (She will ask the player to help Jackson clear the roads for the benefit of her fellow merchants, but this is a very simple quest that they likely already completed hours ago.)

The more challenging Speech check is to tell Cass that there's no way her business can survive, so it's her duty to do the merciful thing - shoot it in the head, bury it, and move on with her life. This, naturally, brings her close to socking the player in the jaw, but she sees the truth in it. She's been holding onto the forlorn hope that there might be something left to save, but she really has lost everything. This bypasses Jackson's quest - she just wants to walk out and not look back.

The Barter options approach things differently - from the Speech options, and from each other. The more challenging one involves making some sport of the offer, challenging Cass to a drinking contest. The player has to supply the booze, and they run the risk of getting embarrassingly drunk if their Endurance stat is too low, but, either way, this will impress Cass enough that she'll sign the contract.

The easier Barter option, though, is, I think, the most interesting. It requires the player to sweeten the deal with their own money - a not insubstantial amount of it, in fact. Cass is still hesitant, though, which allows the player to make a very interesting point. With the money from the Crimson Caravan plus the player's contribution, she'd have enough to restart her business - buy new animals and equipment, hire a new crew, start trading again.

Further, the player can point out that the Crimson Caravan are unlikely to continue using the 'Cassidy Caravans' name after buying it. They're only buying her out to try to monopolise local trade, after all. If they don't use the name, they'll forfeit their rights to it - meaning that Cass can, as she puts it, take their money, give them nothing, and go back to running her business as if the attack never happened.

Cass, naturally, accepts this offer, though she's staggered that the player is so willing to sell out their employers to help her like this. (The player needn't feel any moral misgivings about doing so. A little investigation reveals that the attack on Cass's business was actually engineered by the Crimson Caravan themselves, in collusion with a crime family, in a conspiracy to wipe out their competition.)

I think this entire interaction represents how well New Vegas uses skill checks. Barter, in RPGs, is often a very barebones skill. Its use is letting the player earn more and spend less - as part of an equation determining shop prices, or in dialogue options that boil down to asking for money. It's not uncommon for Speech to be the skill of the peaceful, benevolent diplomat, while Barter is for common mercenaries.

Here, though, the Barter options actually cost more than their Speech equivalents. The player ends up out of pocket for a sizable chunk of change or at least a lot of booze. Instead, the Barter skill represents the character's understanding of common business practices and relevant laws. It allows them to convince Cass to accept a deal by finding a loophole that benefits her more than if she refused.

The equivalent Speech options, meanwhile, are effectively free, but do involve making Cass feel that little bit worse. They emphasise what she's lost, how trapped she is by her circumstances, and convince her to give up and let the Crimson Caravan win. In the long run, this doesn't make a real difference - once she leaves the outpost, she and the player can discover the conspiracy and get their revenge either way - but I think the choice does let the player say something about their character.

Part of the brilliance of this game is how little details, like Cass being stuck at the outpost, tie into other details all across the story. Caravan traffic is halted, in part, because deathclaws have nested near the roads to the north. They've nested there because the local quarry has ceased operations - the noise caused by the digging and blasting had previously scared them off.

The quarry closed down because escaped convicts raided it and stole the workers' stash of mining explosives. The convicts escaped because the government was using them for forced labour on the railroads, and foolishly entrusted them with enough dynamite to stage an uprising, seize control of the prison, and turn it into a fortress and a base of operations for banditry.

Similarly, the threads of Cass's story spread outwards, ultimately affecting the entire future of New California. When she learns that the Crimson Caravan and their allies killed her friends, Cass is furious. She wants to march over there and beat the snot out of the people responsible. The player can convince her to instead settle things legally - get proof of their crimes, pass them on to Ranger Jackson, and hope the justice system gets revenge for her.

If Cass does things her way, the criminals pay with their lives, but their bosses end up better off for it. With their regional execs murdered, the trading companies can claim that the government isn't doing enough to protect them - so, they don't have to support the government's interests, either. They withdraw trade, demand special treatment, and end up making their shortfall everyone's problem.

If the legal option is pursued, though, the evidence becomes blackmail material. The government has the trading companies over a barrel, and that lets them pass stricter trade laws. Given the choice of accepting regulation or facing criminal investigation, the crooked execs choose to stay out of jail. Those responsible for the murders technically avoid justice, but their hopes of a monopoly are dashed - and their superiors are unlikely to be pleased with them having hurt long-term profits so badly.

Cass's story is political and economical all the way through. It's about the influence of wealth on government, and the fundamental injustices of the carceral system. It's about revenge, and reform, and how to hit people where it hurts - their bottom line. And it's about how, sometimes, skills in an RPG aren't about making numbers go up - they're about how a character understands the world around them, and how they can apply that understanding to help someone out of a jam, or help reshape the trade lines of a whole nation.

#vidyo games #fallout #fallout: new vegas #media criticism

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holaprime · 8 months ago

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In Prop Trading, Every ‘MISTAKE’ is a Step Closer to Mastery!

Each misstep brings valuable lessons – refine your skills, adjust your strategy, and keep moving forward. In trading, resilience is the key to success. Don’t let a mistake hold you back; learn from it and take another shot. Success awaits those who try again and again.

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ew-selfish-art · 2 years ago

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Dpxdc AU: consultant groups can be used to outsource problems for companies so why not monarchies?

Danny is listening to the various eyeballs and ghosts chatter on about all the issues that he now has to oversee and advise and make so many freaking decisions on. It’s annoying that it all has to come down to his call because he was a dumb 14 year old who didn’t want his town to permanently live in the ghost zone.

Now 17, King of the Infinite, and a bit wiser to the world, Danny is doing his best to balance his teenage ambitions to not give a shit and his protective obsession to very much give a shit.

Sams parents are making her learn the family business and Tucker is trying to make this internship he’s got with a fancy tech company out of New Jersey into a career without college… so while they’re commiserating with Danny the idea comes up.

Earth has a shit ton of heroes. Like, ever since the Justice League *poofed* the GIW out of existence with the Meta human acts- more and more caped crusaders seemed to be coming out of the wood work. More villains too but still, more people who seemed wise to their abilities and morals. Danny has literally never taken an ethics class.

But rn, Eye-mothy and Eye-Bert are arguing over how Danny as King Phantom is supposed to tackle the problem of some fucking pool acting as a weird trade route with a cult and… ugh it’s just so boring but like also such a fucking problem. But… maybe it can be someone else’s issue.

Opening a portal, Danny escapes into space and gets to work finding the base of operations- Tucker had told him there was a new satellite after all and there’s no way it wasn’t connected to the hero orgs- and boom he flies into the Watchtower.

“Hey- are any of you guys willing to consult on some weird pools of ectoplasm in Pakistan? Green and glowing little lakes of bullshit and magic?” Danny asks into the meeting room of the JL regardless of their startled and alarmed exclamations.

“… I could consult on that.” A voice comes from the corner, and Danny recognizes him as one of the bat people. Or bird? The guy is in a lot of red and clearly wasn’t supposed to be in this meeting based on the way he’s propped in the corner. The room erupts in protest but Danny barely hears them through his excitement and focus on the dude.

“Great! I’ll have him back before the end of the day! Lets go Bird boy!” And with that, Danny grabbed the Bird, chucked them both through a portal back into his thrown room and begins to explain the way these eyeballs are totally trying to trap him into doing more work than he needs to do.

“What do I call you by the way? I’m Danny but you’ll probably hear them call me King Phantom.”

“I go by Red Robin, and honestly, I’ve been trying to get this shit taken care of for years.”

From there Tim becomes a regular consultant for King Phantom- the Bat Family is losing their minds with him constantly going to the land of the dead but also Constantine said not to piss off the king at all costs.

Danny is just thrilled that this dude has a shit ton of insight as well as business sense- like he could legit run the monarchy way better than him despite the fact that they’re the same age.

They end up working together for years, and even when there’s not an active issue at hand, Danny will meet up with the bird just to talk.

Sam and Tucker think they’re hilarious each time they ask if Danny’s proposed yet.

Tim has already planned their wedding but all of that information is in a folder more secured than the nuclear codes- Danny needs to ask him on a date first.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #Tim drake #dead tired #dc crossover #dp crossover #ehehehehe #also him just grabbing any random hero to help on any issue their power set might help to advise #danny outsourcing his issues is my favorite headcanon #boy wants to be helpful but also like is begging to just have one lazy Sunday #Tim drake is like ‘why would I not help run a monarchy in my spare time from running a Fortune 500 company and being a vigilante?’#tim drake is a menace #he’s what the eyeballs have nightmares about and they didn’t even think they could have nightmares

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laresalgotech · 6 days ago

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katsukikitten · 3 months ago

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"You're too stiff." Your comment makes him bristle slightly, sharp sapphire gaze cutting into your bare skin.

The annoyed, condescending glare is the only reaction you can pull from him most days. Occasionally he will grunt his distaste with your unwanted comments or he will snarl back a cold clipped quip of his own.

His eyes return to a book he cannot decipher, ancient language scrawled across linen pages. The current object of his affection he's been neglecting you for. You sigh, annoyed yourself, finally asking the question burning on your tongue aloud.

"Why did you hire me?" Curiosity keeping malice from your tone, propping your head up on your palm as you stare at him from the bed. Even in this late hour he is still fully clothed. Dark slacks, dark dress shirt that looks as if it were woven armor and his long blue trench coat.

He sits in every chair as if it were a throne, legs spread slightly, shoulders pressed against the back, his head is only dipped to look down at the book in the dim light. It's stupid how handsome he is, how his cold confidence wraps around his muscular body like armor, and yet you can still get under his skin.

"You hardly speak to me. You don't touch me. You don't fuck me." Even under his heavy gaze, you do not waiver, if anything you try to stifle a giggle, "I'm starting to think you just like to have a woman around. Just enough to keep your room lively and your bed warm."

Cat like smile crossing your lips before you lower your head back down to the plush pillow, this time the giggle comes out. Dancing around his rigid body that tenses further when you turn over to give him your back. Adding one last comment before you curled against the pillow with the intention to sleep.

"I see, you're just lonely." It comes out soft, laced with pity. A mistake you'll be sure to learn soon enough.

Before you can react to the sudden presence standing beside the bed, a thick palm wraps around your throat. Squeezing just enough to slow the blood flow to your brain.

"Am I lonely?" His fingers dig deeper, edges of your vision closing in as you feel his weight dip the mattress behind your back, "So touch starved I would pay for company from a whore?"

Even with his strong grip, you jerk in his hold, yet still he keeps you pinned. Adjusting you as if you weighed nothing as he lifts you to his lap, pressing your back to his chest as he leans against the head board. His left hand smooths over your skin before it settles at your thighs, forcing them to spread open for him.

"Maybe it is you who is so lonely, so starved of touch and affection you're willing to trade coin for company." He looks down at you with a cruel gaze, "So starved that you're willing to be choked to be touched."

Your glare is unmatched, burning into his skin, hotter than any flame he's felt. Still he can see something beneath that nasty gaze, sees it is fueled by hurt.

You rear your head back for a headbutt although he simply turns his face away, the smallest of smiles graces his lips before it vanishes.

If there was one thing about you, you never took it lying down or without a fight. Your own stubborn will could be something to admire, although he will not admit that aloud.

"Who said I liked to be choked?" A hiss of your pretty tone, crushed beneath his light grip. He chuckles, leaning closer to press his lips to your ear as he shares the secret. Left hand hovering over your cunt.

"She did." Pressing his fingers between your folds hearing a pretty squelch as he gathers slick to press into your clit, "Hear how wet you are for me? All from a little breath play and you're already soaking my slacks."

Despite his hum he still sounds annoyed, brow pinched until your heels dig into the mattress beside his knees to give him better access. Your body betraying you as a rasped moan escapes your lips.

"Now which of us is licking knives for affection again?" A mirthless chuckle, the sound cruel by your ear, "Can I break you like this? Give you so much you shake and plead for me to stop?"

Your stomach tightens, his fingers skilled in more than just sword play. It is unfair how good this feels, how close you are from his fingers and words alone. From the way he makes you dizzy thanks to his hand at your throat, his thumb letting up enough to stroke across the column gently before he returns to his affections.

Your breath hitches, back arching as you press into his muscled torso before you're shaking. Pleasure washing over you in violent jerks of your body as you claw at the sheets.

"That's one." He smiles against the shell of your ear before hooking his chin over your shoulder. Looking down at his work as he continues the maddening pace, you cry out again, "That's two."

He teases you like this for what feels like hours, until his slacks stick to his skin from your bare cunt crying out for more. As he continues to dangle the power imbalance between the two of you as if it weren't already obvious in your day to day.

You've watched him cut down hordes of men with hardly a twitch of his fingers, faster than their bodies can even process, still speaking as their heads or torsos separate from their bodies. You've seen the way his eyes darken, sclera turned black making his eyes aglow the same as a predator's under a full moon.

He always looked beautiful bathed in moonlight, kissed by it until every strand of his hair was starlit. Otherworldly even without his darkening gaze, his shadow gave him away most nights. Stretching longer than any man's should, giving him a crown of two sharp points.

Your body is weak to him and it feels as if it is by divine design, slack in his hold, no matter how cold his touch may be. Unable to keep your knees up now as they fall open, body limp as your head falls back onto his strong shoulder.

His sclera has blackened, something that happens when his mood is heightened, usually nanoseconds before a kill, but this isn't that. This is something entirely different, cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Frostbitten sapphire flick to your face, hold your gaze, his fingers slow to a stop. A gentle pressure with his left hand as his right does the same. Locked in your lidded gaze his eyes go beyond the veil and peer into the depths of your being.

Into your soul.

Without breaking contact he tilts your head every so slightly to press a chaste kiss to your jaw.

Your back arches, body shaking as you come undone from the simple affection.

"I told you that I was not the one who was starved." Baring his teeth in a manner that seems unlike him before he regains his composure as quickly as he lost it. His sclera slowly bleeds back into white, soon his gaze will be glazed over in boredom. An expression he doesn't have to force with most.

Weakly your hand comes up to run your fingers through his moon kissed hair, threading them into the strands.

"Vergil." Voice strained from his hold on your throat and the moans you forced past his grip over the past hour or so, still you surprise him, "You're a bad liar."

He moves his hand to bite until he tastes copper coating his tongue, sclera blackened again, you cannot help the satisfied cat smile on your lips.

No matter how small and defeated it may be at least for now.

"I told you not to call me by my name." He pulls back, lips and teeth stained scarlet, pink muscle slips past to swipe at the mess.

"Then why did you give it to me?"

#vergil x reader #vergil smut

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atlas-funded · 7 months ago

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A prop trading company funds talented traders, providing capital and support to help them thrive in markets. Achieve financial freedom with firm-backed resources and guidance.

#proprietary trading firms #proprietary trading #best proprietary trading firms #prop trading company #trading proprietary firm #proprietary trading business

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katiebblynne · 1 year ago

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~Denial~

SDV Sebastian ANGST/FLUFF

a/n: was gonna write sebastian smut but this scenario for the farmer x seb confession angst took over my hands srry :') happy ending tho!

pairing: Sebastian x Fem!Reader wc: 3911

Confessing to Sebastian doesn’t go well, just as you expected. But expectations can always be changed.

Days spent in Sebastian’s room were always your favorite ones. Sometimes you’d watch movies. Sometimes you’d play games in the company of Sam and Abigail. The time here never lets you down. But, there are certain nights that you look forward to the most – the nights you and him spend alone, talking about everything and nothing, for hours.

Tonight was one of those nights. You found yourself in a familiar spot on Sebastian’s couch, him occupying the rug on the floor next to you. You two have been laughing for what feels like hours, trading stories of what you’ve heard around town and showing each other rib tickling videos on your phones. When you say something that gets that less-than-often heard belly laugh from him, your feelings fill up every ounce of your body and seep out of your pores. You often hint your infatuations to Sebastian, but they go dismissed or ignored. The reality of things – what you’ve concluded from his disregard of your obvious advances – is hard to swallow, but you force the pill of it down anyway: he doesn’t feel the same.

You lay on your side, head propped on your elbow as you two decide the time passer tonight consists of lighthearted questions and answers. You toss around inquiries about his job, he asks you about your farm. You ask him about music, he queries you about your cooking. This goes well into the night, and you feel absolutely enthralled by the seemingly endless conversation. The way he moves his hands when he talks, the clink of his rings together as his fingers help portray his words… melodic bliss.

“Okay… would you rather live in Pam’s trailer or Elliott’s shack?” You ask to carry the conversation.

“Elliott’s shack probably… this basement’s just as dank anyways.” he responds. You both chuckle.

He takes his unspoken turn in the banter. “If you had to date someone in town, who would it be?” His voice is casual and unexpecting. You look at him with a confused expression. He glances back at you, the same tone taking over him. “What?” He asks with a small laugh.

“Well, you, of course.” You answer plainly. After all this time of advancing on him, it rots your brain that he would ask you a question with such an obvious answer. He looks at you and tilts his head. “Wait, really? Not like… Alex or Elliott or something?” You stare – surely he is pulling your leg. He returns your gaze with an unmoving, genuinely curious look. “Why me?”

This evokes an actual laugh out of your throat. “I mean, it’s no secret I have a thing for you.” Your voice carries nonchalantly, assuming he would have known by now. Sebastian’s heart starts pounding in his chest. He sits up and stares. “Wait, huh? You like me?” Your eyes widen a bit. “...yeah? You didn’t know? I’ve been pretty obvious this whole time, like when we’re hanging out and stuff.”

Sebastian is sincerely in a state of shock. He truly had no idea, or at least he didn’t think he did. He only ever saw you two as friends. His voice comes out hesitantly and it makes your stomach clench. You knew where the conversation was going to go, and most likely how it was going to end. “I don’t get it… when did you like, hint at it?” he asks. You reply simply. “I mean, I’m constantly complimenting you and trying to be close to you when we hang with Sam and Abby… stuff like that.” You see a slight concern on Sebastian’s face, not being able to read it past that. You quickly divert the tension building from your words, bracing yourself for the inevitable. You say, a feigned attempt to ease him, when you’re really just helping shield your own heart, “It’s no biggie. I know you only see us as friends. It’s all good, man.”

“Why are you trying to convince me it’s no big deal when you just… confessed your feelings for me? Don’t you think we should like… talk it out a bit?” He asks, his face filled with an awkward discomfort. The sight makes your heart drop, but you mock a relaxed state of being. “What is there to talk about…?” Your voice betrays you slightly, your tone uneven and guarded. Sebastian fidgets with his rings as he probes your confession from the rug in front of you. He keeps a respectful distance between him and the couch – almost a physical representation of the space he’s giving you to speak about your feelings. God, he’s so good to you. Sometimes you wish he was crueler. He asks you softly, cautiously, “How long have you felt this way?”

You take a deep breath to ponder the question. “Probably like… six months?”

“SIX MONTHS?” he immediately returns, a shock on his eyebrows. “How the fuck have you liked me for sixth months and I just now find out?” You give him a small shrug, “I guess I’m wondering the same thing, Seb.”

Sebastian was at a loss for words. He felt an urge to ask more about it, unfortunately not considering how it might be making you feel right now. His brain wasn’t functioning that way at the moment – he just needed to understand this news… really make sense of your feelings so he could handle them. “Why me?”

You let out a pained chuckle, having to reminisce on the foundations of your unrequited affections. You glance around the room as you think. “I dunno. At first, it felt the same to be around you as it did with everyone else. But then one day– I don't even know if you remember this–” You look at him for a small moment, a soft smile settling on your face before your eyes find moral support on the posters on the wall instead, “we were all meeting at the saloon, and you had already ordered my favorite drink before I got there. I had texted you earlier that I was having a rough day on the farm… For some reason,” you move your hands in an unknowing gesture “you kinda stuck in my brain after that and never left.”

Sebastian gazes over you, still steadying his thoughts as he wraps his head around this. “All because I bought you a drink…?” You shake your head slightly and laugh. “Well… no. That was probably just the moment I realized I liked you. It was small, yeah, but it was like… a catalyst. I started noticing all these intricacies about you after that, ya know?” You roll on your back and stare up at Sebastian’s ceiling, your thoughts taking over and causing a tender smile to caress your cheeks. He watches you, his stomach in knots as you continue.

“Like… how you tap out piano melodies on your thighs when you’re anxious… how you brush your thumb against your lips when you’re working. Or how you always roll your neck after you yawn…” Your voice trails off of Sebastian’s walls and settles into his skin. He looks at you as you speak, soft as a feather, your vulnerability crawling up his spine like a chill. He watches you, speechless. You continue with a sentence that makes his chest physically hurt. “You occupy my mind like you pay rent to be there… and in a room full of people, there’s only you.” A gasp strains on Sebastian’s lips, his heart aching. Your words spill out more, as if they are overflowing out of your chest. You laugh, stifling an urge to cry.

“It’s pretty annoying actually, thinking about you all the time like this. I hardly get anything done anymore. It’s really unproductive to be so hopelessly in love.” The words come out before you can stop them, but you don’t care. Might as well at this point, right?

Sebastian sinks into himself, an overwhelming anguish claiming his face. “...In love?” He asks, his voice approaching your confession as someone would a wounded animal. You look at him, your lips pulling into a closed line and your eyes softening to reaffirm what you said.

Sebastian’s very essence felt heavy. He didn’t return the feelings, but for some reason his heart was gnawing at his skin to reach you in a way he’d never felt before. He couldn’t stand himself in the moment – you being so open and saying all these beautiful things and his brain not being able to reciprocate. You sigh and look back up at the ceiling, his silence confirming your fears. “Sorry for rambling. Maybe I’ll be able to move on after this, yeah?” You chuckle dryly, sadness wrapping its hands around your neck. Sebastian so desperately wanted to comfort you. He wanted to pull you in his arms and make you feel better, but how could he? When he was the driving factor behind your broken heart.

As much as you fight it, a tear finds its way down your temple. Sebastian’s entire body is replaced with guilt as he sees it. You wipe it and force a gentle laugh. “I think I… should probably go now. I hope we’re still cool after this.” You lift your body off his couch, not making eye contact. You gather your things and make your way to his door. “Wait… y/n, I’m… so sorry… I-” You cut him off as you pull his door open. Your eyes meet his, glazed with tears that are just waiting to take over. “Hey, really. No big deal. I’ll see you later, Seb.” And with that, you leave. Sebastian is left on the floor, frozen in ache and a whirlwind of emotions.

~*~

Sam’s phone lights up, interrupting the competitive glint in his hands as Abigail demolishes him in the game they’re playing. He answers “Sebastiannnnn, what’s up?”

Sebastian sits on his couch, his phone to his ear as he stares down to where he was just sitting before. “Dude.”

Sebastian’s tone sends a spike down Sam’s spine. He sits up a little straighter. Abigail notices, pausing the game. Sam puts him on speaker. “Abby’s here too – What’s goin on?” Abigail listens in, resting the controller on her lap.

Sebastian’s voice takes on a shape they’ve never heard before – it’s shaken, soft. “Are you guys free? I need to fuckin talk man.” Sam and Abigail send each other a wide eyed look, concern – and a curious itch – settling in their stomachs and across their faces. “We’re at my house. Door’s open.” Sam responds. Sebastian doesn’t hesitate to make his way there, his steps fueled by anxiety. As soon as he arrives, he slumps on Sam’s bed and just stares at the two sitting on the floor facing him. The look in his eyes simultaneously speaks volumes and says absolutely nothing at all. Abigail prompts him to speak with an enthusiastic ‘spit it out’ gesture.

Sebastian takes an uneven breath. “Y/n… just confessed to me, guys.”

Sam and Abigail immediately do a little cheer, high-fiving each other. Sebastian is taken aback, and his words come out small. “What?” Sam and Abigail take turns speaking, Abigail taking the lead. “We’re excited for you guys!” “Yeah, we’ve known you like each other for months now – this is great, man!” Sebastian’s anxious face creates room for puzzlement. “Wait… what? I don’t like y/n like that… Guys, I had to reject her tonight.”

A silence befalls Sam’s room. They both share the same expression of disbelief as they take in Sebastian’s words. Abigail bursts out laughing and Sam leans forward with his palm on his face. “Dude, you have got to be fuckin’ with us right now.” Abigail settles her laugh just a bit to add “Yeah, like, you’re joking right?” Sebastian looks bewildered at their reactions. He shakes his head slowly – of course he’s not kidding. Why would they think he has feelings for you?

Abigail and Sam both roll their eyes in different tones of exasperation – one true and one playful. Abigail looks at Sebastian, her voice deadpan. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Why would I be joking? We’re just friends, that’s how I’ve always felt. I don’t understand what gave y'all the impression I felt differently–” Sam cuts Sebastian off. “We’ve seen the way you stare at y/n when you think no one’s lookin’, my dude. You’re constantly talking about her to us, always textin’ her when she can’t hang out or making sure she’s having a good time when she can. Hell, she’s the only one out of us that can get a belly laugh outta you and she’s only known you a third of the time we have!” Abigail nods in agreement, both of their eyes piercing Sebastian’s. Sebastian retorts, a sprinkle of annoyance on his face. “So? That doesn’t mean I’m in love with ‘er.” Sebastian feels a cold wall encasing him, pushing away the strange mix of feelings coursing through his veins. Abigail leans forward, her elbows on her thighs. Her and Sam are steadfast in what they believe – no, what they know – unconvinced that he doesn’t feel the same. “Seb, you are genuinely crazy if you are in this much denial. I think you are in love with her and don’t even notice.” Sebastian stares at the two, frustrated at their adamant claim. His fingers burn with confliction. Sam ends the conversation with a simple sentence that rings in Sebastian’s ears in resolute. “You definitely need to go and reflect for a bit, man – before you miss your chance.”

~*~

Sebastian lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling that still clings onto your words from earlier. He tosses and turns, unable to get you out of his head. The image of you lying on his couch, your tear that has seeped into the cushion at this point… it replays in his head like a film. Guilt, confusion and… something else he can’t quite place makes their home in his chest, his stomach, his throat. He huffs, trying to expel the feelings for just a moment as he closes his eyes.

Suddenly, that film of you is replaced by vivid, dream-like memories of your smile, your giggle. The way you hum to yourself while you lay in his bed with him. The goofy faces you make when you’re sleepy. The way your fingers feel when they accidentally brush against his own. His eyes slowly open as the thoughts flood his mind. When his gaze fully settles against the ceiling once more, he feels it – uh oh. Sebastian clenches his bed sheets for stability when the realization hits him like a train, the impact crumbling down the cold wall around his heart in an instant. His heart starts to race, as he mutters to himself raggedly. “Do I… like y/n?” No, it’s… more than that. “Fuck! Do I love her?”

He doesn’t believe it. He is absolutely, desperately, in love with you.

Then, Sebastian thinks about tonight. He sits up straight in his bed, as if struck by lightning. He feels his heart drop to his stomach as he thinks to himself. ‘Idiot! I rejected her? I broke her heart! How stupid can I be?!’ He groans in agony as he flops back into his mattress. “How can I fix this… how could I be so dumb?”

You lie in your bed, chest sore from sobs. Your body feels almost numb from the exertion of emotions and rejection tonight. You saw it coming. You knew how he felt. But something in you clung to hope anyway. Hearts really just suck like that sometimes. You sigh and roll over, turning off your light and closing your eyes. You’re out in an instant, drained from the despondency.

~*~

Weeks go by. At first, you tried your absolute best to feign contentment around him, hoping that if you fake it long enough it’ll actually happen. But eventually, when you discovered the heartbreak had sublet your mind for the unforeseeable future, you let yourself distance. And boy, did Sebastian notice. Your eyes lost their spark. Your skin lost its glow. You stopped hanging out in the group as often, coming to the saloon as much. Alone time with him ceased altogether. When you’re around – which is rare now – Sebastian sneaks glances at you as much as he can – his heart just as shredded up as yours.

Abigail had convinced you to come out tonight. It was a Friday, and everyone was gathered at the saloon. Its liveliness was a stark contrast to you. You and the others gathered in the billiard room, sipping on drinks and shooting pool. There was an undeniable tension in the air, one that Sam and Abigail tried to cut through as best they could with jokes and small talk.

Sebastian had been looking for the right opportunity to talk with you forever now, but at this point it felt like he’s missed his chance. Guilt and love battled for more space in his brain everyday. He knew he was far gone when Sam started beating him at pool. Sam noticed it too. Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, Sam shot Sebastian strident looks, gesturing discreetly over to you – silently urging Sebastian to just talk to you about it already. His pleas are met with a simple, sad head shake from Sebastian. Sam rolls his eyes and continues getting through the awkward atmosphere.

After finishing your one drink of the night, which took a couple hours due to your lacking appetite for… well anything lately, you set your glass down and stand up. “I think I’m gonna head home for the night, I’ve got a lot of farm work in the morning.” Abigail and Sam didn’t dare try to stop you, their recent negotiations for you to stay out always being met with hesitancy or denials. They nod and hug you goodnight. You and Sebastian just wave, your eyes not meeting his. God, what a pathetic feeling that was. You leave the saloon, and Sebastian is met with angry stares from the other two. Abigail crosses her arms, and Sam points at the saloon exit. “Go. Talk. Now.”

“Guys… I can’t… I don’t know what to say–”

“NOW.” They both say in unison, their word firm and dominant. Sebastian sighs, reluctantly setting down his poolstick and making his way toward the exit to follow you. He anxiously catches up with you as you walk through the town square. “Hey, y/n, wait up!” He says as casually as he can muster, even though his heart is screaming. Your body tenses at the sound of his voice. You stop and turn to look at him, a measly smile forced on your face. “What’s up, Sebastian?” He comes up and puts his hands in his hoodie pocket, his last line of defense against his overwhelming emotions. “I uh… wanted to go on a walk before I head home tonight. Been stuck in the basement working a lot lately. Figured I could walk you back and take the long way from the farm?” You nod slowly in understanding, every ounce of your body buzzing with misery. Despite this, your words come out cordial and light. “Oh, yeah… no problem.”

The air that surrounds you two as you walk together is almost dense enough to make you sick to your stomach. Not a single word is exchanged the entire way to your house. You pray for a sudden heart attack, for a swift death would be better than this level of discomfort. Sebastian watches you as the trek continues, his pace slightly behind yours. With each step you two take, his feelings grab hold of him more. His legs burn with the ache. He gazes as the setting sun enraptures your hair, making it almost glow with vibrancy. His stomach is in knots. He watches your top flow in the evening wind, dancing on your hip. His arms are on fire. He takes in how you dainty fingers flex ever so often as you stride. His chest feels like it's going to explode. He sees your eyelashes flutter as your gaze hangs low onto the path. Pained ardor strangles his neck, cutting the air supply to his brain.

You reach your house. Sebastian looks at you as you head to the stairs up to your porch. He can feel it – the words fighting his tongue to get out. His essence rapidly surrenders to it. “Well, see ya later Sebastian.”

You place your hand on the knob of your front door – and that's it. That’s the moment the words blurt out of Sebastian's lips, catching you before you go in.

“I love you!”

The words hang in the air, surrounding you. They possess your joints, stopping you from opening your door. They turn you around to look at a broken, lovesick Sebastian at the bottom of your porch stairs. His hand is stretched out shakily to you, his foot on the first step of the stairs. He breathes rapidly, as if his bones themselves are trembling under his flesh. Your face is pained, shocked, addled. “W-what?”

Sebastian had meant to be more graceful in this moment, but his heart acted clumsily in yearning for you. He takes another step up, his hand seeking your warmth of which he missed so desperately. “I… I love you.” You gawk at him, your face so full of emotion it takes the opposite effect and becomes almost unreadable. Sebastian’s next words tumble out of his mouth as he approaches you… oh so softly, need floating at his fingertips.

“Your hair… when it glints in the sunlight. Your laugh, how… how it infects me. And how you smell after you use my shower… my shampoo. It’s my favorite smell in the world.”

Your eyes widen and your heart tightens. Tears fall down your cheeks, your hand drops from the doorknob and hangs limp at your side. Sebastian lets out a strained whimper, tormented by the sight of your tears once more. “Oh… y/n, don’t cry… please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you like this. I’ve been such an idiot all this time, denying my feelings and pushing you away…” His foot rests on the final step up to you, his movements hesitant to go further. “I should’ve let myself feel this sooner… oh god… please–”

His words are cut short, silenced by your lips crashing on his. You pour all of your emotions into him, your kiss deep and pining. His being stutters, but almost involuntarily responds with equal passion. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in and kissing you like it’s his last moment on earth. Love and regret surround the both of you, bonding you together. The rest of the world is quiet, giving you both center stage.

You eventually break the kiss, hardly pulling away. Your tears paint Sebastian’s cheeks, his eyes locked on yours with an upward furrow on his brows. His lips remain slightly parted, stuck between wanting to say something and needing to claim yours once more. You speak, your voice cracking in overwhelm. “I am so in love with you, Sebastian. It will always be you.” You two share a smile, gasping in relief.

You kiss once again, catching up with all the lost time in this single, consummate moment.

#sdv #stardew valley #fanfic #ao3 #sebastian sdv #sebastian stardew valley #angst #fluff #romance #sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian angst

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