#mostly the first image. second one is fine

[alexanderwales]

Game Review: The Roottrees are Dead

When I played Obra Dinn shortly after it came out, I thought "man, that was great, they should make a hundred of these, this should be a whole genre", and on reflection, that would actually be a terrible idea, because what made it great was the storytelling, the attention to detail, and the loving care that went into it. As I've learned from the wave of games that take inspiration from Stardew Valley, there are some genres that I only like if they have a lot of attention to detail and artistry.

The Roottrees are Dead very clearly follows in the footsteps of Obra Dinn, and while it doesn't quite hit the same highs, I think it's a worthy successor that forges its own path and helps to establish what's possible within the space.

In The Roottrees are Dead you play as an investigator in the late 1990s (1998 for the original, 1999 for Roottreemania), looking into the Roottree family to uncover some of there secrets. You do this almost entirely through a simulacrum of the early internet, with a pre-Google web search, periodicals, and checking out books from the local library. Gameplay entails combing through these documents to see what there is to search, then making some deductions to put information up on the sprawling family tree. Just like in Obra Dinn, you get your guesses "confirmed" after you've locked in some number of correct entries, which helps to narrow down the search space.

It's a good game. I recommend it if you like research and puzzles and deduction.

I think mostly I want to talk about how it feels to play this game, and what I think makes it work in a way that's totally different from other detective/puzzle games.

First, and I think this is very important, you can search almost everything, and you are often rewarded for this. Every name, every company, every book, all of them can be searched in one way or another. Sometimes it's the web search, and if that turns up nothing, sometimes you can search the periodicals, except that you don't start out knowing the names of the periodicals. And when you do get the name of one, it opens things up, because you can go searching using this new resource.

Sometimes the information isn't quite right, so you have to think it through. Use someone's maiden name, or find out what a book was retitled to for its second publication, or figure out how the thing you're searching for would be referenced. This is all the kind of thing that I find really enjoyable, and more so than in real life, because the feedback is instant. Even if you hit a dead end, the game will usually have some text for you, and sometimes it'll tell you it's a dead end with a little story, ending with "unfortunately none of this seems relevant to the Roottree family".

What you're ultimately doing is creating this whole web of information, picking up names from articles you read and tracking them down, which gives you more articles and more names. You have some understanding of these people and their relationship to each other. You get to know the history in this very unconventional way. It's pretty unrealistic, but my suspension of disbelief was mostly fine.

Locking things in feels great, particularly because it means that you're removing a possibility from your list of names, making everything easier in the next go. This was something clearly borrowed from Obra Dinn, and I'm glad, because it works so well and feels so rewarding. New here are "optionals" that get confirmed whenever a lockin of the main family happens, and this is a great evolution of the concept.

There are two places where the game let me down a little bit, and both have to do with the pictures. The first issue is that I wanted the pictures to be of a higher quality. The web version had AI images, which were a little wonky, and got flak for it, so the images were (apparently) hand-drawn for the release on Steam when people were paying money for it. And they're still a little wonky, which is surely a budget issue, and maybe a little bit an art direction issue. I don't like criticizing thing for their lack of budget, but man, there were places where I felt it here.

The second issue with the pictures is that these tend to be the worst kinds of clues. People just do not talk about appearance and clothing in these ways, and it always feels clunky in the way that other clues (usually) don't. They're necessary, because this is part of the core gameplay, matching pictures to names, but it feels to me like the weakest part.

New to the Steam version is "Roottree Mania", which deals with a crisis of "extras" to add to the family tree, those who are products of affairs. It's basically the same in structure, and proof to me that this concept has legs: the focus is different, but you're engaging in the same gameplay. I would say that overall, I enjoyed Roottree Mania about as much as the main game, even if the scope was somewhat less focused.

And like before, I find myself thinking "they should make a million of these", but I know that this is only as good as it is because there's significant dedication and care put into it, and you can't just "copy" it and expect for it to be playable or good. You need those little moments when things snap into place, when something confusing reveals itself to be well-ordered. You need puzzles to work out, inconsistencies to uncover, information working together. And that's hard, and it's something I'm happy this game was able to do.

[camping-with-monsters]

oh yeah it’s pride month omg I should post these

Don’t worry about what’s over Cinderella’s face it’s a canon event

[mariasont]

mariaaa!! i have another idea!! > 3 <

ok, so…

sleepy, needy, & clingy bimbo!reader with hotch

either before they together or when they first get together <3

Hot & Bothered (No, Like, Literally, You Have a Fever) - A.H.

summary: bimbo!assistant!reader is feverish, clingy & just a little delirious, except, not too delirious to shamelessly flirt with your very attractive, very exasperated boyfriend. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: sick!reader, no use of y/n, established relationship, soft!hotch, flirty banter, suggestive-ish content, clingy!reader, hotch ignoring all cdc guidelines, reader is kinda being a baby about everything (just like me fr), theatre kid hotch. wc: 2.3k

You started off playing it cute. All little sighs, sending Aaron pouty texts filled with emojis, making sure he knew you missed him, but in a haha, just kidding (unless?) kind of way. Now you're way past that. The cute phase had dissolved into something far more desperate.

You were sick-sick. The terrible kind of sick where your limbs feel like they're made of granite, and your skin somehow manages to burn and freeze at the same time.

Worst of all, Aaron wasn't here.

And really, what was the point of having a boyfriend as stupidly gorgeous, painfully competent, and naturally overprotective as Aaron Hotchner if he wasn't going to be around when you need him most?

You knew you were being dramatic. You knew this was your own fault. Aaron had practically ordered you to let him come home with you, standing there in his office with his disapproving frown, telling you that you shouldn't be alone if you weren't feeling well.

But in your infinite wisdom, you had waved him off, told him to stay at work. Because at the time, you were fine. Or, more so, fine-adjacent. And because sometimes, your brain tricks you into thinking you are a capable, independent woman who does not, in fact, require Hotch-shaped supervision.

So now you're curled up in bed, drowning in the well-worn fabric of his FBI academy hoodie, the one that smells like him. And it helps. But not enough.

Because if he were here, he'd be so good at taking care of you. He'd probably be all bossy and stern about it, telling you to drink your water, go to sleep, and stop pouting. But then he'd turn around and betray himself completely by smoothing your hair back so, so softly, by tucking the blankets up to your chin like you're something delicate. Contrary to popular belief, he did have a soft side.

Maybe you should call him. Maybe you should be really, really pathetic about it and beg him to come home.

Maybe you're just a little too codependent. (Just a little.)

The second the front door opens, you think you must be imaging it. You convince yourself it's the fever, twisting reality into want instead of what actually is. Because Aaron shouldn't be home yet.

You squint at the clock, but it's just a bunch of blurry numbers, and math is already hard enough without feeling like your brain is actively melting.

But then there's the sound of leather against hardwood, and not just any leather.

You know those shoes. The custom Italian Oxfords you forced him to let you buy. He'd grumbled about the price, all exasperated and dramatic (as if he had any real concept of what good leather actually costs), but he still let you drag him to the store. Still let you lace them up for him. Still let you kiss him senseless in the parking lot because he looked too insanely sexy in them to be allowed to exist without immediate compensation.

You'd told him once that good shoes take you good places. And now look where they took him.

Straight home to you.

The relief is so instantaneous, it makes your head spin. And suddenly, he's there, shoulders broad against the door frame, arms crossed, eyes warm despite the unimpressed look he's attempting to pull off.

"My poor baby," he says, half-teasing, but mostly just achingly soft.

Your bottom lip wobbles. "It's not that bad."

Aaron sighs loudly, already loosening his tie as he strides over, assessing the damage, which, in this case, is you, buried under what is objectively a very reasonable amount of blankets.

"Uh-huh." Flat. Dry. But he's already reaching to fix them, like he can't help himself. "That why you're buried in every blanket we own?"

You burrow deeper into said blankets. Maybe if you commit hard enough, he'll stop looking so smug.

"They're comfy."

He crouches beside the bed, undoing the last button on his cuff before pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. His touch is cool, and you lean into it immediately, shameless at how much you enjoy his skin against your overheated own.

"You're hot."

You blink at him, dazed, and—without thinking—mumble, "So are you."

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret them. Not because they're untrue, that's indisputable, but because of the sheer pathetic delivery of it, all scratchy and pitiful and nothing like the effortless flirtation you usually bring to the table.

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut like that might somehow reverse time.

Aaron, of course, is completely unbearable about it. His lips twitch, and you can see it happening in real time, his struggle not to laugh directly in your face.

"Flattered," he drawls, his thumb brushing over your temple, fingers carding through your hair in slow strokes. "Have you been drinking enough water?"

You wrinkle your nose. "Water is boring."

"You're boring."

You gasp, sniffling as you try to look offended, despite the congestion ruining your tone. "Boring? You weren't calling me boring last night when I—,"

"Okay."

Aaron cuts you off immediately, already leaning down, pressing kiss after kiss to your face—forehead, cheeks, anywhere he can reach. You squeal in protest (or, well, try to, your voice is too weak for it to be truly effective), but he just laughs against your skin, relentless.

"Okay, I take it back," he murmurs, kissing your nose like an apology. Like a bribe. "You're the most exciting person I know. Now be exciting and drink some water before I have to force it down your throat."

"Force it down my throat?" you rasp, a weak smirk pulling at your lips as your fingers prod into his dress shirt. "You promise?"

"So inappropriate." He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, but his hands are already cupping your face, his lips pressing to yours, like he loves kissing you too much to stop himself.

You barely have time to enjoy it before your brain remembers how sickness works.

"Wait, germs!"

Aaron just smirks, tilting your face up with a knuckle under your chin. "Since you brought up last night, that's an interesting concern, considering where your mouth was last night."

You should say something flirty in return. Something about how that was different because it was basically an act of public service (one you love providing). Because that's what you do. You throw him off, make him sigh like you're exhausting and adorable at the same time, watching his ears flush pink when he pretends he's not affected.

But the words never come, instead, your brain hands you a far worse visual. Aaron, like this, but worse. His face pale, head pressed against a pillow, forehead creased with discomfort he wouldn't acknowledge. You can see it clearly, the way he'd insist he's fine, the way he'd make it through a workday half-dead before even considering rest.

And suddenly nothing is funny.

Your fingers clutch at his shirt without thinking, like holding onto him will somehow fix the terrible, awful, no-good mental image you just had.

You're frowning, and you don't even realize it, not until Aaron does, his thumb pressing lightly against the center of your forehead, like he can smooth it away.

"I don't want you to get sick."

"My sweet girl," he murmurs, fingers threading through your hair once before he stands. "I can handle a cold. What I can't handle is you being miserable and dehydrated. Be good and let me take care of you."

Aaron disappears before you can argue and by the time he returns, a glass of water in hand, you've barely had a chance to process how much you missed him in those few seconds.

You watch as he puts it down on the nightstand beside you.

"There. Now drink."

"Yes, sir," you mumble, taking a few small sips just to prove that you're listening.

But if he really wanted you hydrated, he should've just kissed you again.

Aaron's eyes narrow, shooting you a pointed look.

You sigh, loud and put-upon, then take another sip, longer, just to appease him. You make a show out of it, before immediately reaching out, patting the empty space beside you with undeniable urgency.

Aaron snorts. "Didn't last long, did you?"

"I'm sick. I need warmth and love."

He exhales so dramatically, shaking his head. "If that's what my poor, suffering girl needs, then I suppose I have no choice."

Alright, theatre kid.

You bite your tongue, not because you're wrong, but because self-preservation is a skill, and you'd like to see another sunrise. And, fine. If he wanted to pretend like sitting still for five minutes was his own personal crucifixion, then who were you to deny him. It wasn't your fault, he ran himself into the ground, like he was trying to beat time himself, working to the bone until someone (you) had to physically drag him to bed.

You watch, maybe a little too intently, as he kicks off his shoes, undoes his belt, and swaps out his boring, stuffy work pants for the sweats. Your sweats. The ones you have a deeply personal attachment to.

You have history with those sweats.

"You know, you put those on and suddenly I start feeling a whole lot better." Call it divine intervention, maybe. "Do you think if you let me sit on your lap, I'd be at full strength again? Because I think we should at least try. For medical purposes."

Aaron settles in beside you, pressing one, two, three kisses to your lips, because he can, because he wants to. When he pulls back, he's smirking.

"Cheeky girl," he murmurs, thumb skimming your jaw. "And here I was, thinking you needed me to take care of you. Turns out you just wanted an excuse to climb all over me. How tragic. I've been completely fooled."

You brain-to-hand coordination is questionable at best, but that doesn't stop you from attempting to very subtly slip your fingers along the waistband of his sweats.

Aaron grabs your wrist instantly laughing—an actual, real, Hotchner laugh.

"Sweetheart," he muses, so damn amused, his thumb tripping over the pulse point of your wrist. "You can barely hold your head up, and you're trying to start something?"

"With a boyfriend like you, I'm like, legally required to start something."

Aaron lets out the longest, most suffering sigh known to man.

Like you said—theatre kid.

"Don't I know it. You're insatiable."

You open your mouth, fully prepared to launch into a passionate defense of you very reasonable levels of attraction to him, but a sneeze—tiny, weak, kind of embarrassing—ruins it.

Aaron's smirk evaporates. It happens fast, like a switch flipping, like he's just remembered, really remembered, that you're not at full strength, that beneath all your teasing, you're a little delicate, too easily worn down.

For a second, he just stares, jaw tight, brows furrowing ever so slightly, like the sight of you, flushed cheeks, fever-glazed eyes, pathetic sneezy, physically pains him.

And then you're moving, no he's moving, pulling you in, tucking you into his chest, as if you were something his hands were built to protect.

"And yet, here you are," he murmurs, kissing your temple, breathing against your hair, "disease-ridden and tragically adorable."

You sigh, shoving your face as close as humanly possibly, like some kind of human limpet. His heartbeat is strong beneath your ear, soothing, a constant thump thump thump that makes your eyelids droop.

"I really missed you today."

Aaron's arms tighten around you, but then you sniffle. Not the same pathetic little sound from earlier. This one's different. This one is softer, wetter.

He tenses just enough for you to feel it, enough to make you regret it, because now he knows.

You blink rapidly, tilting your face down, trying to breathe past the sudden, stupid sting behind your eyes, willing it go away before he—

Too late.

His arms loosen just enough to tilt his head down, scanning your face like he's already trying to figure out how to make it better.

You turn, burying your face in his chest. "I'm fine."

A lie. A bad one at that. So laughably transparent that even you wince a little.

Aaron doesn't call you on it, however, just pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your cheek, catching the tear before it falls.

"Oh baby," he breathes, voice a little rough, like he wants to pull the sadness out of you and keep it for himself.

He presses another kiss to your temple, then another, then another, like he needs to fix something unfixable, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck.

"You're killing me here."

You sniffle. Again.

"M'sorry," you mumble. "This is probably like... super unattractive."

Aaron shifts again, tilting your chin up as his thumb brushes against your cheek.

"Still the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he murmurs, but his jaw is tight, his fingers flexing against your skin. "I should've come home sooner."

"You wouldn't have lasted," you mumble, voice slowing, words dragging just a little.

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"Because you'd stress yourself out." You hum sleepily, tracing absent circles against his shirt. "You'd take my temperature every hour. Make me drink disgusting tea. Then, once you ran out of things to fuss over, you'd start deep-cleaning the grout just to feel useful."

He snorts, shaking his head. "You make me sound unbearable."

"You are unbearable," you murmur, but your grip tightens around him, contradicting yourself entirely. "But in a very sexy, very productive way."

He laughs and presses a kiss to your temple.

"You know what would make me feel better?"

Aaron's chest rises with a deep inhale, like he already knows. His arm tenses around you. "Sweetheart—,"

You grin against his shirt, weakly.

"A very hands on wellness check."

Aaron chokes out a laugh, tightening the blankets around you. "Christ."

He presses one last kiss to your forehead and you think you hear him mumble should've seen that one coming under his breath.

You hum in agreement, mentally ranking all the times he should've seen something coming.

This moment, obviously.

The time he let you fall asleep on him once and then acted surprised when it became a permanent thing.

The time he told you to be serious and then immediately realized that was the worst possible way to get you to stop joking.

The time he tried to fight it, tried to keep you at arm's length, tried to act like this thing between you wasn't inevitable.

You should tell him. You should. But then he tucks you closer, breath hot against your temple. And before you can launch into your incredibly important findings, you're already too far gone.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[softtdaisy]

in the meantime / Aaron Hotchner

summary. when hotch gets hurt, you're called as his emergency contact. thing is, nobody knows you're not together anymore.

words count. 2 336

what to expect. a little angst I guess but fluff too, Jack is mentioned but he's a teen

a/n. I first imagined this very funny and light and I ended up adding more angst??? but it's still sweet and cute and hotch is a lover boy

F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

When you got called at school, at first, you didn’t think it could be that moment you’ve been scared of for months finally happening.

Being a kindergarten teacher, it was easy to leave your class and ask for a colleague to take care of your children. They were all occupied with creating a new poster with their names and wouldn't even notice your absence. Well, you imagine they wouldn’t because you weren’t supposed to leave for too long.

“Do you know who’s asking for me?” you asked the principal’s assistant who came for you. He was one of your friends here, so you knew how to analyze his gesture. And from how fast he was walking right now, you could tell this was more serious than you first thought.

“Well, she’s a brunette, dressed in black.” He stopped in the middle of the hallway to think for a second. Trying hard to remember what her name could be. Thing was, you didn’t know that many brunettes, dressed in black that could authorize herself to come here. “I think her name is Emily or something like that.”

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, freezing. 

You appreciated Emily. You would even call her a friend, even if you only knew her through Hotch. But you barely talked outside of the moment you spent together. 

Getting a call from her would have been weird. Having her come to your school wasn’t normal at all.

Yet, here she was. Waiting in the principal’s office. Indeed, she was wearing an all-black outfit but mostly wearing a concerned expression on her face.

When you opened the door, she rushed to you, interrupting her conversation. Her hand was soon on your shoulder and her eyes were locked on yours. You found some comfort in it. The problem was, you had no idea why you needed it.

“What are you doing here, Emily?” you asked, whispering like it was some secret the rest of your colleagues or your superior didn’t need to know. Which was true, somehow. “Is everything alright?” 

But you knew it wasn’t. And the three words that followed were the proof. “It’s Hotch.”

Your heart dropped, and the whole world went silent. 

You’ve spent months afraid of hearing these words one day. Checking your phone multiple times a day, waiting for his text to make sure he was doing fine. There were moments when you would have the same nightmares of coming home to an empty house, sometimes with more graphic images you wished you could forget.

When Emily noticed you seemed to disconnect from reality, she put her other hand on your shoulder. “He’s ok,” she added. 

“I don’t know how, but the unsub managed to stab him in the stomach. He lost a lot of blood and went to surgery, but he should be fine. Spencer told me he was waking up when he arrived here, you heard Emily explain, but her voice seemed like a distant melody.

You tried to focus on the good news, that Hotch was fine. As fine as he can be after an attack that probably woke up some trauma, but fine. Not dead. Not in danger. Fine. 

You took a breath and nodded to accept the information you just got. And showing Emily that you listened, that you understood what she said. 

It wasn’t until you managed to keep your stress as low as possible that the question popped up in your head. “You came all the way here to tell me?”

Emily looked at you with confusion. 

“Well, you’re his girlfriend and his emergency contact. And you weren’t answering your phone. I thought it would be better to bring you to the hospital myself than let you learn about that later by yourself.”

That was the moment you understood why Emily chose to drive all the way here.

Hotch didn’t tell anyone you weren’t together anymore.

Dating Hotch was easy, more than people thought it was.

He was a great listener. He loved to hear you speak about everything in your life just as much as he loved paying attention to small details. Offering your favorite flowers, having your favorite artist in his car, and sending a text about important events at your job even when he was miles and miles away. 

You could tell Hotch was working on the experience he got from his past relationship and all that he still had to learn to be a good partner for you. And he was doing a wonderful job on it.

This relationship did a lot of good for him too. With Jack being a teen and less with his dad, he finally felt like he had a new purpose to come back home. Hotch learned to love opening his door again. This time not being met by the silence. But by you, with some kind of reality TV on, reading a book on a sofa he almost forgot about before seeing you on it—not to mention the memories the both of you created on it. You made him feel loved. At his place but at every place in his life too.

For a year, you two have been the happiest and did everything to make this relationship work. Even the team noticed the change in Hotch’s personality. And after multiple drinks together, you started to call them friends too. You both loved the routine you created together. 

But even with the brightest sun shining on your relationship, the truth was the stress was still there. His job was anxious, to you, but to him too. Having someone to care about in his life once again made Hotch concerned about losing you. He tended to be more protective after rough cases, sometimes leaning to some controlling behavior he hated as much as you did.

The disputes became more and more recurrent. And after another fight, you both decided that maybe you needed a moment away from each other to wonder if this was really worth it. You wanted Aaron Hotchner to be the love of your life; you really did. Just as he wanted to. But was it really the life you both wanted?

It was a hard month away from him; you won’t lie.

And knowing you almost lost him was even hard.

“Let’s go,” you finally replied. And the ride to the hospital was surprisingly calm.

The few times you saw Emily, you both kept chatting for hours to the point Hotch even laughed one day about fearing she might steal you from him. But this time, there were no words. Not only because of the stress, but also because you realized you were lying to your friend because of Hotch. You haven’t seen him in a month, having no idea about what his life might have been these past thirty days. And she was great at worming information out of you. So you would rather not say a thing instead of spilling a secret.

The whole drive to the hospital felt like a fever dream. And nothing could have prepared you for the overwhelming feeling you got when you opened the door. A mix of relief and stress.

Hotch was there, indeed. Underneath a white sheet that made his skin look even paler, with dark circles bigger than the last time you saw him and a tired expression that made you wish you could do anything to let him relax and rest for at least a month.

He was facing the window and only turned his head when he heard you coming in. And the confusion replaced the tiredness on his face. Yet, you still noticed the short smile that drew on his lips when he saw you. “What are you doing here?”

His tone was sweet. Sweeter than usual. No matter how down he was, Hotch took everything in him to make you feel welcome. He didn’t want you to question your presence here or to think he was questioning it. He was glad to see your face after the awful day he had. Yet, he was still wondering why you came. After a month apart, he thought you put him aside. 

Deep down, Hotch had the feeling he was easy to forget. But you weren’t. You never felt his head or his heart.

You didn’t answer his question. You couldn’t even talk. You were just focused on the silhouette of the man that shared your life these past months, lying on this hospital bed, looking so fragile.

You walked to him, as close as you could. So close that your knees bumped in the bed without you realizing it. You couldn’t resist the need to brush his hair, putting away some strands that were on his forehead. His confused and drained eyes follow each one of your moves.

“Honey?” he asked again, reaching for your hand. 

When you were together, not a day went by—except for those when he was away—where you wouldn’t hold hands. In the morning, when he was getting up, you tried to keep him with you a little longer. During breakfast, while he was drinking his coffee. When he said goodbye, kissing you before putting a kiss on your entangled hands. Or when you went to sleep, cuddling, with your hands on your stomach—or his, when he needed it after a rough day.

“You didn’t tell them we broke up,” you said in a low voice. It was the first time you said it out loud but also realized what it meant. And having Hotch in front of you, calling you by the nickname that followed you your whole relationship and caressing your hand with his thumb softly, helped see the truth behind that. “Emily came and picked me up because I’m your emergency contact, and I wasn’t answering my phone, and as your girlfriend, she assumed I needed to know. Because you didn’t tell anyone we weren’t together anymore.”

You finally landed your eyes on his, losing yourself in his baffled puppy look. “You’re right, I didn’t.” Hotch said. It was the first time since you came in that you noticed his voice was a little raspy. “And I’m glad it led you here.” 

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, not that you doubted he meant it. Over a year, you’ve learned to recognize Hotch’s expression. Especially the way his face was always softer when he was with you. Or how his very stoic and linear mouth always curled up in a smile around you.

Still, you had one question on your tongue. “Why?”

“Why am I glad?” he replied with a giggle. One that was sadly followed by a grimace. You watched as Hotch brought his other hand to his stomach to ease the pain. The doctor told him that even with the medicine, it would take him multiple days to get better. And until the stitches were gone, he wasn’t allowed to go back on the field.

But suddenly, the idea of being stuck at his office or at home wasn’t as awful as it was when he first thought about it. 

You sighed, focusing on his face rather than the wound he was clearly keeping hidden from you. “Why haven’t you told them?” 

Hotch took a second to look at you. The answer was obvious to him, to the point that there wasn’t a question to begin with. Over this past month, there was not a moment where he thought he had to make things clearer about your situation. Sure, he was a very private man, yet he never lied about you. He just kept things as they were. “Because I didn’t want it to be over.”

Hotch sat up against the headboard and motioned to you to sit on the bed with him. He moved his legs to give you space. And the heat you felt when he held your hand tighter to help you reminded you of the obvious attraction you had for him. Even after he had a terrible day. 

“Listen,” he started again with a tone that imposed on listening to him. That's not to say you weren't paying attention in the first place. “I know we made this decision together, and I respect it. And this month apart gave me the time to think about us.”

The first night coming home to an empty and silent house wasn’t easy for Hotch. He felt like he had failed again at keeping someone in his life. He hated that he lied to Jack, saying you had family obligations to explain your absence. He didn’t want his son to be disappointed about his dad's inability to maintain a great relationship.

And one day, Jack told him about a girl at school he had a crush on and everything he did to prove to her it was worth trying rather than giving up.

“I want to make things right with you.” Hotch pursued, bringing your hands to his chest. “Maybe I need to work on my perception of danger when it comes to you. And if so, I will do it. Because I want you.”

You always found it fascinating how his eyes often spoke louder than his words. And the look he was giving you right now was the best argument he could have found to prove you he meant it. Hotch loved you. And so did you. 

When a smile started to grow on your lips, also a silent answer to his silent confession, you noticed his lips curved too. Hotch let go of your hand to bring his own to your neck and move your face closer to him. But you stopped right before your lips touched.

“Maybe you should just consider not getting hurt the next time we argue.” You whispered, which made him laugh.

“Right, I’ll think about that.” He replied before finally guiding you to his lips.

Hotch never stopped believing he would get you back. So maybe he was right about not telling anyone about the breakup. 

[littlegrapejuice]

Flatline | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando parties a bit too hard and needs to be patched up. Luckily, he can count on a pretty nurse.

Author's Note: I'M BACK MFS🙂‍↕️ it's been a while haha but enjoy this lil lando fic that was inspired by the song Flatline by 5sos!! Also happy new year hehe, hope everyone is doing good and i wish y'all the best for 2025🫶🏻

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

King’s Day 2024. Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Amongst all the drivers, people would’ve thought Max Verstappen the most prone to be sighted in public while celebrating his country on its national day. However, the one that was currently trending on social media was Lando Norris. Pictures as well as videos were being posted, reposted, and commented on every second. No one had expected Lando to spend the weekend away in the Netherlands in between two grand prix. But here he was, partying on a boat and even DJ-ing along with his good friend Martin Garrix.

Lando didn’t know whether people just didn’t care about him – seeing as the Netherlands were the home of one of the greatest drivers of the current generation – or if people actually didn’t know him. In any case, he was glad not to be disturbed by fans – even though he loved them – and be able to enjoy the day the same way everyone else was doing it: by partying, dancing, singing, and drinking.

Obviously, Lando was planning to be careful as he knew that his PR team would have his head if he did something stupid during his two-week break. But still, he was having fun like a typical twenty-four year old. He was having the time of his life. Dutch people definitely knew how to party on their national day, that’s for sure.

…..

A few hours later however, what everyone hadn’t been expecting was for Lando to end the day with bandages all over his face. As the surprise of him being in the Netherlands settled down after a while, pictures and videos stopped circulating around. Until fans all over the world were met with images of Lando with a bloody nose, a smile still on his face. People had no idea what had happened. No context had been given, only the speculation of Lando having drunk and partied too hard that he had hurt himself.

Fortunately for him, Lando had been able to count on you. Being a friend of a friend, you loosely knew Martin but had never really exchanged more than a few words with him. However, he was currently glad that the invitation to his boat party had managed to reach you as you were qualified to take care of Lando’s battle wound – his words. Being a nurse, and the only one with some medical knowledge on the boat, you had quickly reacted when people had started panicking after seeing Lando’s face starting to bleed.

To be honest, people had overreacted a bit. Because when you approached Lando to see the extent of the damage, you realised it was only a cut albeit the consequence of some glass. So although he wasn’t hurt very badly, you still suggested bringing him into the hospital where you worked. Obviously, Lando had refused at first as he pretended that everything was fine. He was. But just to be sure, you needed to give him a general check-up in a clean location as a random boat in Amsterdam wasn’t exactly the most hygienic place to patch someone up.

So after Martin also agreed to the idea, Lando had no choice but to listen to his friend and go with you. The Dutch told Lando that he would come get him later as he needed to bring his DJ equipment back home – he promised to be ready to give him a ride back from the hospital later on as he knew that Lando had a flight the next day. This is thus how you found yourself in a cab with none other than Formula One driver Lando Norris on the way to your workplace. Truth be told, you hadn’t expected to go there today. But you knew it was part of your job to be able to help anyone in need even if you were on your day off.

The ride had mostly been silent. Lando had been on his phone, probably texting a few people about his whereabouts, while you were focused on the next steps to do when you’d be arriving at the hospital. You were pleasantly surprised when Lando paid the driver without a second thought and told him to keep the change.

“I could’ve paid, you know. Thanks,” you told him as you entered the building.

“You’re taking care of me on what definitely seemed like your day off, so that’s the least I can do for you.” Lando smiled at you and even with the bandages around his face, he was still very good-looking.

“Still, I appreciate it. You can go wait in this room if that’s okay?” He nodded and you finished explaining what would happen next. “I just need to inform my manager I’m here, get some stuff for a small check-up, and then I’m all yours. I won’t be long.”

“Sounds perfect”, Lando replied with a grin.

True to your words, you were back in the room where you’d left the Brit less than ten minutes later. He noticed that you’d changed into your uniform – which you’d been lucky to have a spare here as your usual one was at your flat – and enjoyed the view of observing you in your element. Working in the medical field was your calling, and you didn’t see yourself anywhere else.

First, you removed the bandages that you’d wrapped around Lando’s face earlier before you cleaned up the small wound – properly this time, with adequate material. As Lando winced when you disinfected it, you apologised.

“Does it hurt much?” You asked.

“Not really”, he shrugged. “Just uncomfortable I guess.”

“Hmm, okay”, you nodded. “Tell me if there’s anything else at any point.”

Quickly finishing up, you were soon enough putting a band-aid on Lando’s nose. You debated offering to put a silly one originally designed for kids, but decided otherwise as you didn’t want to look weird for suggesting it. However, the driver had noticed your eyes drifting to them when you’d hesitated in which one to take, so he spoke up:

“You think you could actually give me one of those”, he wondered with a smile before adding. “The cute ones, there.”

When you saw that he was pointing at the Disney ones, you stiffled a laugh. You hadn’t expected him to directly ask for one himself, but you were kinda glad that he did. Amongst the different characters present, your choice was easily made.

“I guess that the Cars one caught your eye?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if you were right.

“Bingo!” He laughed. “I’ll admit that Frozen was tempting but I gotta stay true to my roots.”

“Fair enough”, you chuckled. “Your job ain’t really much to do with building ice castles, or I’ve done my research wrong.”

“You looked me up?” Lando asked, the surprise obvious in his tone.

“Well, yeah?” You answered with a ‘duh’ tone as you gently put the Cars band-aid over the plain one you’d previously applied. “Even though the whole country supports Max and not many people care about the other drivers, I gotta know about the competition.”

“You think I’m competition to Max?”

“Of course! Anyone is: as long as Max isn’t the only driver racing on track, he has competition.”

Your explanation made Lando’s grin widen as he was glad to be considered in the same league as the Max Verstappen, especially by someone who lived in the Netherlands. To you, any other driver that had managed to be a part of the twenty that raced in Formula One was a good one – Lando included.

“He does have three more championship titles than me though”, Lando stated. “And God knows how many wins.”

“He’s had a good car for years,” you pointed out. “Your time will come, don’t worry. I can feel the papaya greatness for this year – though if I ever wear orange, it’s for Max.”

Not knowing what to reply to your words, Lando simply nodded while you put away the box of band-aids. You thought about the final steps of your check-up, and turned back to face the driver.

“Okay, so I’ll just put this on your finger to see your heart rate and then I’ll make you do a breathalyser if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, no problem. Do your job, don’t worry.”

“Great, thanks.” You carefully clipped the pulse oximeter on Lando’s finger before stepping away. “I'll be right back in a minute.”

“Take your time,” Lando replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When you left the room, the Brit let out the biggest sigh of his life. Oh God, he thought. It seemed like you hadn’t realised how close you’d been to Lando as you were only focused on doing your job, but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes away from you. He really hoped you hadn’t noticed anything, as the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable at your workplace. Get a grip, Lando told himself while waiting for you to be back. Don’t fuck this up if you want a chance.

You came back into the room shortly after, a box in your hands – which Lando assumed to be the breathalyser. He knew he had drunk enough that he wouldn’t be allowed to drive, but he hoped he had sobered up enough after his trip to the hospital. After unboxing the breathalyser, you got close to Lando again and explained to him what he’d have to do.

“Nothing too complicated, don't worry. You’ll just have to exhale into this.” You showed him the object. “And I’ll tell you when to stop. Then, you’ll be good to go!”

Lando nodded in reply, even though he hadn’t really paid attention to the actual words you’d said. He had been more focused on your face and the way you’d gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. He almost wished he’d been the one to do it, and he wondered if it was the remains of alcohol in his blood making him think that. He also wondered if he would still be attracted to you if he had met you while stone cold sober. But when you gave him a soft reassuring smile as you told him to be ready to blow into the breathalyser, he knew he would find you gorgeous no matter his state of mind.

What he didn’t know though, is if it was the alcohol or his attraction to you that was making his heart faster – both, to be honest. The result was the same: the machine was showing his heart rate quickening and Lando could perfectly hear it echoing in his head, which made his eyes widen at the thought that you would hear it too. Lando’s heart rate was actually the least of your worries as you were focused on the current task of measuring the level of alcohol in his blood, but it became the most important barely two seconds later when you heard the continuing beep that usually meant the lack of heartbeat.

“Your heart is going flatline!” You exclaimed in shock as you tried to quickly assess how Lando looked in order to find the cause. “Oh my God… oh my God, what the fuck is happening?!”

And while you were panicking, Lando realised that he had made a grave mistake. See, as he still wasn’t back to his normal state of mind, the driver thought that it was a wonderful idea to just remove the pulse oximeter from his finger so that you wouldn’t have noticed his heart rate speeding. But of course, you had immediately noticed the lack of constant beep from the machine and were currently still stressing – breathalyser completely forgotten.

Seeing your panicked state, Lando was now feeling extremely guilty and decided to come clean.

“I’m fine!” He was almost shouting. Hearing his voice made you stop in your tracks, and you looked at him with worry in your eyes. “Sorry”, he apologised. “I accidentally removed the thing, please calm down. I’m not dead.”

“Oh”, you could only answer. You felt awkward now. “That’s good, then.” You scratched your neck and nervously laughed. “It’s weird, it shouldn’t come off that easily unless it’s forcibly removed. Sorry if I gave you one that wasn’t properly working.”

And this was his last straw. Lando was now feeling even guiltier at your words, as you were going to blame yourself for using seemingly faulty equipment.

“Please don’t be mad, but… I-actually-removed-it-myself”, he said as quickly as he could.

“What?” You questioned with a tilt of your head.

“I removed the heart thingy myself because I didn’t want you to hear my heart rate.”

“Lando, that’s my job?”

“Yeah, but like…” He didn’t know what else to say, except for the truth – thank the alcohol for giving him the confidence to utter the next words. “I was just thinking about you, and you were looking super pretty while explaining stuff, and I wasn’t really paying attention to be honest, but then I felt like my heartbeat was going really fast, and you’d hear it, and you’d think I’m like weird, and–”

“Oh God, Lando calm down!” You put your hands on his shoulders so that he would look at you instead of the floor, and meeting your eyes silenced him. “You’re good, don’t explain yourself. I know that you’re not completely sober yet so your mind might make you do weird things. I’m just glad you’re alright and not suddenly a victim of a heart attack.”

“I don’t want you to see me as a crazy drunk guy right now!” He retorted, trying to clear his name. “Even sober, I’d think the same. Maybe not do the same stupid shit though…” He muttered the last sentence.

Silence now filled the room as you removed your hands from Lando and put them in your pockets before sighing. You tried to assess the situation and process his words. You’d had your fair share of people complimenting you in your workplace so Lando’s feelings weren’t that unusual, but it was still rare to end up in this type of situation. You thought for a minute about what to do while Lando stayed quiet. He was scared of dumb words leaving his mouth, so he didn’t want to take any more risks.

“Tell you what”, you caught his attention. “We finish this up, I clear you free to go, and maybe we can start over when you’re not my patient anymore. Sounds good?”

Still not trusting his words, Lando simply nodded. You then kept going with the last steps of your check-up before announcing to Lando that he was discharged. He had surprisingly sobered up quicker than you would’ve thought – maybe because of the heart rate incident – and his alcohol level wasn’t as high as you’d imagined it to be.

You walked him back to the entrance hall and asked him if Martin was here to get him. He briefly checked his phone and noticed a couple texts from the Dutch that were notifying him of his arrival in a few minutes. You therefore decided to wait with Lando, having all the time in the world – it was still your day off and you knew that the hospital wasn’t understaffed today, so there was no need for you to stay and give a hand.

As you were waiting in an excruciatingly awkward silence, Lando chose to man up and clear the previous situation up.

“I still think you’re beautiful,” he stated. “And I’d love to get to know you,” he added. “I know I’m not fully sober yet, but I’m almost there and my thoughts haven’t changed.”

“That’s good to know”.

“Good as in positive for me to shoot my shot?” Lando wondered with a nervous smile.

“You can try, I think your chances of success are pretty high right now.”

“Great.” His grin widened, and you couldn’t help thinking about how he was currently the beautiful one. “So, can we go out together one day? I know this great restaurant that my wonderful local friends told me about.”

“That’d be my pleasure”, you replied.

“When do you finish work?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.

“I’m actually done…” You feigned to analyse the time on your watch. “Right now. What a coincidence!”

“Coincidence indeed”, Lando agreed. He then took out his phone and gave it to you. “I’ll text you the location?”

“Sure”, you nodded. “Maybe not a full meal tonight, but I’m still down for a drink and snacks.”

“Works for me. Raincheck for a proper date then?”

“Come back for it once you have a race win under your belt”, you challenged.

“Deal”, he accepted. “I have really good motivation.”

“Tell you what, you can also get a wish if it’s the next race that you win.”

“A wish? Anything?” You nodded and Lando thought about ideas. “Kiss on the first date?”

“Alright, you’re on!” You sealed the deal with a handshake, a playful glint in your eyes.

Merely a couple seconds later, Martin was pulling up in front of the hospital which was yours and Lando’s cue to go your separate ways before meeting soon again.

…..

A week later following your semi-date with Lando, you were now watching him celebrate his first win on the top step of the podium in Miami. You couldn’t be prouder of him, and your first thought was to text him as soon as you saw him go back to his garage. You hoped that he’d have access to his phone soon enough and quickly drafted a message to congratulate him. Right before you sent it, your wish – and eventually his in the process – seemed to have been granted.

Flying back to you next weekend before imola

I’m expecting a welcome kiss👀

You chuckled at his texts, a blush appearing on your cheeks as you thought about how he was still serious about you, and deleted your initial message before sending a new one.

Wouldn’t have it any other way

Congratulations race winner! Can’t wait for the next ones, I knew your time was coming🧡

If Lando never imagined that being hurt could lead to him bagging a pretty nurse and getting his first Formula One win, he was now thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get a small wound before each race if it meant that you would take care of him and that he’d be lifting the winner’s trophy afterwards.

..........

Hope y'all liked this ^^ idk if it's common knowledge on here but I'm a HUGE 5sos fan and when i recently heard flatline after a while, i knew i had to write smth f1 related for this song (esp the chorus)

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated if you enjoy my writing<3 it means a lot to me and i love knowing what people think - apart from my bestie who's often my #1 fan haha

See you next time, take care🤍

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Earth 703

Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader

Summary: You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel? (Sex pollen. Except it's you this time.)

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warnings: language, smut, p in v, oral (male receiving), cum eating, some soft Miguel, maybe ooc. Not beta-read. Forgive the mistakes.

Part 2 of the sex pollen ask, by popular demand. Can be read as a stand alone but the lore stems from that ask. Hope ya'll like it.

...

Drowning. It felt like drowning.

The air suddenly felt thick as you fought to remain calm. The sensation of pins and needles ravaged the surface of your skin under your digital suit (designed by Miguel himself, as promised), running down your arms and abdomen until a burning heat settled between your legs.

Sweat began to bead along your brow, and you bit your lip to control your accelerating heartbeat. 

Shit. You fucked up. Badly.

You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel? 

You’d recognized the daisies immediately—remembered the giant stems and the bright white petals, how it made Miguel greedy and depraved. 

The New York jungle of Earth 703 was just as dense as the last time you’d visited. It was a second mission in search of the anomaly, and you’d decided to complete it independently. That’d been a mistake. And not telling Miguel about it was an even bigger mistake, but unfortunately, you hadn’t put much thought into that last part. You wanted this mission done and over with.

But mostly, you wanted to prove you could do it yourself. 

Miguel would be furious if he knew the predicament you were in. But there was no need for him to find out, right?

The Prowler had a strength that you’d underestimated, easily tossing you into the mass of pollinated daisies before darting off, glitching with an array of colors as he ran away.

You’d been knocked out, waking up covered in pollinated dust like a pastry dusted in powdered sugar. You’d sneezed a couple of times before stumbling out of the daisy patch disoriented before finding the nearest tree and leaning against it, dusting yourself off.

And that is where you found yourself now, sprawled out with your back against the tree and your legs spread wide, your cunt burning with a need to be filled.

Okokokokok. This was fine. You could manage. If you just sat there patiently, the effects would wear off and you could go back to HQ without anyone noticing you were gone. However, that was easier said than done.

You fought the desire to touch yourself. 

You knew that if you did you’d be in trouble, and no one would be able to help. But you were weak of mind, slowly trailing your hand down your abdomen to lightly press your fingers over your throbbing cunt. You groaned, thumping your head back harshly against the tree.

It felt good but it did nothing to ease the growing sensation. You tapped your cunt again, the arousal running through you immediately. You were panting now, letting your mask fall so that you could breathe better.

The burning increased and you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. You pushed your sweat-slicked hair away from your face with both hands, pausing for a moment to help yourself get a grip.

You felt so incredibly empty. You couldn’t tell for sure but you just knew your core was dripping wet, waiting to be filled by someone’s cock.

You didn’t want to think about that someone just yet, knowing that if you conjured up his image (and his cock) in your mind's eye, you’d be a salivating, mewling mess.

Again, you tried to alleviate the discomfort, this time pressing the heel of your palm over your core. You mewled in response, resisting the urge to cry out in pain and frustration.

It was beginning to hurt, the burning flaring into an intense heat, and you swore you could feel it running down your legs, making your toes curl uncomfortably. Your vision blurred as your eyes tried to make sense of your surroundings. 

Suddenly your watch went off, and when you struggled to raise your arm to answer the call, an image of Miguel appeared. 

“Where are you?” He demanded, “Why’d you turn off your location? I’ve been looking everywhere for you at HQ.” You wanted to respond, you really did, but when you tried to speak the only sound that slipped out was a pained gasp, followed by a sob as you pressed your free hand over your suit-covered pussy. 

“Are you—are you crying?” 

Were you? You hadn't realized, couldn’t feel the fat tears rolling down your numb cheeks and past your chin. You could hear the subtle panic in his voice, his image seemingly appearing closer as he pulled his watch toward his face to inspect you. 

You did nothing but whimper in response, choking on humid air.

“Baby, listen to me,” Miguel reasoned, his tone measured and confident but not free of worry, “Are you safe?” 

“T-think s-so,” you managed to squeak out, another ripple of pain running through you. You groaned, your head dropping forward as your muscles tensed. 

“Can you tell me where are you?”

“E-earth s-seven—” Miguel cut you off with a great sigh, his pixelated form running a hand down his face. 

“Stay right there. I’m coming to get you.”

You didn’t need to finish. He knew exactly where to find you.

…

At least the new suit came in handy.

When you couldn’t wait for Miguel any longer you deactivated your suit, leaving yourself stark naked in the middle of the jungle. 

Normally, you’d be completely mortified, but the throbbing in your cunt overpowered the embarrassment. You simply didn’t care, not when you were desperate for physical touch, desperate to be filled to the brim.

You’re assumption had been correct—you were absolutely soaked. You sighed as you allowed your fingers to swirl through your folds, your creamy juices clinging to your skin as you pulled out to inspect them.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, finally plunging your fingers into your needy little hole, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Your bare chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you let your other hand skim up and tweak at one of your sensitive nipples.

You bit your lip, breathing in harshly through your nose. It was good but it wasn’t enough—it wasn’t what your pussy craved.

You continued to thrust your fingers inside, holding on to whatever semblance of relief you could get.

A portal appeared in the middle of you working yourself open, Miguel stepping through. Your eyes reflected the bright yellow glow of the portal until it disappeared behind him.

Miguel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he did so often when facing a predicament.  

“Baby…” he began, squatting in front of you, his red eyes observing your nakedness, your tear-stained cheeks and red lips, swollen from worrying them. You hadn’t stopped for even a moment, mewling as your fingers worked your messy pussy. You were so incredibly wet, the squelching loud enough for you both to hear.

He wrapped a large hand around your wrist in an attempt to stop you, but you hissed, pushing him away with a weak kick before continuing to stuff yourself. 

“Stop,” he said, grabbing your feverish face in his hands, “activate your suit. I’m taking you home.” 

“Don’t wanna move,” you cried, more tears rolling down your cheeks, “it hurts.” 

“I know, baby, I know, let me take you home.” He was barely successful in removing your hand from your sopping cunt, your fingers pruned with how wet you were. He fought to ignore the strong scent of your arousal and the way your slit glistened. 

Miguel held your body close, feeling how your limbs trembled. He stroked your hair to soothe you, running a hand up and down your back in comfort. His cock began to swell when you rutted against him, pushing him down so that he was flat against the ground. 

“Coño, wait—” 

You ignored his protests, grinding your cunt against him in deliciously slow circles, mewling all the while. Your mind felt hazy, the arousal so powerful that you couldn’t think properly, too overwhelmed by the immense pleasure of your cunt rubbing over Miguel's bulge. 

“Miguel,” you whined, your hands firmly planted on his chest as you moved skillfully over him, “I need you, please, just—just put it in real quick, I’ll be good, I swear, I just need your fat—”

“Shh,” Miguel, placed his finger over your mouth to silence you, his chest heaving as he watched you move above him, “I’ll give you what you want, yes? Then I’m taking you home.”

“Yesyesyesyes, whatever you want, please—” In a matter of seconds you were able to feel Miguel’s bare skin under your fingertips, his large cock springing to life, bobbing angrily against his stomach. Your eyes sparkled at the sight. 

You shuffled down clumsily, gripping his cock and quickly spitting on it to lubricate it. It was hot and heavy in your hands, and your mouth watered, desperate for a taste. You wasted no time in devouring him, lapping at the sides and swirling around the fat head, his precome already coating your tongue. 

“Damn,” he groaned, his head propped up so he could get a proper view of you. He licked his lips, watching you suck his cock as if you’d never have the chance to taste him again. 

His fingers weaved into your hair, careful not to tug on the strands too hard. You set a vicious pace, moaning around his shaft as spit dribbled past the corners of your lips and down your chin. His cock twitched in your hands when you began to jerk him, a sure sign that he was close, “You’re gonna make me come.” 

You hummed in response, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and gagging when he hit the back of your throat. 

“S-shit—” Miguel slammed your head down into his pelvis, his hips lifting slightly away from the ground as he came down your throat, his large load making you sputter over his cock. “Fuck.”

He was a panting mess, his eyes lidded as he watched you lap up the come that slipped past your mouth and onto his dick, making sure to clean him thoroughly. 

Before he could get a word out you straddled his lap, taking his hardening cock in hand and lining it up with your needy hole. 

You looked up at him for a second, searching his eyes for protest.

“Take what you need from me, hermosa.” He panted, his hands running up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Ride me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

You cried out when you slammed down on his cock, the stretch of him intense but nothing you weren’t used to. Your greedy hole swallowed him, coating his shaft with your creamy juices as you began to ride him. 

You came within minutes, your body quivering and your cunt squeezing him tightly, gushing all over him. He was moaning beneath you, helping you ride out your orgasm before he choked, filling your womb with thick ropes of white. 

Miguel lifted you up by the waist, your pussy fighting to hold onto him as his cock flopped out, his spend and yours dripping down your thighs and over his hips and abdomen. 

“M-Miguel,” you whined, your fingers searching between your legs to scoop up some of the mess, quickly shoving your digits in your mouth for a taste. You moaned around your fingers, your eyes fluttering at the taste of him mixed with your tanginess, creating a devilish mixture that had you craving more.

“Shit, baby,” Miguel groaned, his eyes trained on your mouth as you sucked on your fingers, searching for every last taste of him, “you okay?”

“I-I need more, I need you,” your core began to burn again after being left empty for only a few moments, “i-it still hurts.” You rubbed your soaked core over his cock, making it hard again. “Let me ride you again.” 

Miguel’s brow twitched, and with a grunt he sat up, holding you flush against his skin. He placed a kiss over your sweaty brow, pressing his nose in your hair to inhale the earthy scent.

“Let me take you home, preciosa. Please.” 

“I need you now.” Tears began to blur your vision once again as you looked up at him. His expression was one of concern as he held you close, his lips set in a tight line. You were never this whiny with him, ever. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, baby, I know. I’ll make it better, I promise, just let me take you home.” 

You allowed him to fiddle with your watch, pressing a few buttons to activate your suit before he activated his own. You were clawing at his shoulders as he lifted you in his arms, your nails hardly breaking the barrier of his suit but still sharp enough to cause discomfort.

He ignored it, summoning a portal as you shook in his arms, and took you home.

…

He came down your throat for a second time.

You’d been so eager to take his cock in your mouth again as soon as he brought you to his apartment, sucking him off until he felt he had nothing more left to give you. 

And for the second time, you rode him, bouncing over him with a vigor he didn’t know you had, making him come deep within your walls. Your pussy was a drooling, sticky mess, unsatiated with the number of times Miguel filled you. 

You shuddered as another orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs ached and trembled as you pulled away, covering his skin in his spend. 

It still wasn’t enough. 

Miguel lay motionless on his bed, his hair a matted, sweaty mess, his body spent from the number of orgasms you took from him. His hands fell from your waist when you shifted away, his tired gaze regarding the wild look in your eyes.

“Amor, please,” he hissed, his eyes screwing shut as you took his cock in your small hand, slapping it over your mound to awaken him for another round, “s’too much. You gotta let me—fuck.” You spit on his shaft, pumping him a few times and bringing him back to life. 

“I need you, Miguel, need your cock,” you whispered, feeling him twitch delightfully in your hand before lining him up over your ravenous cunt, and sinking down.

Miguel choked, his claws sinking into his sheets and causing tears in the delicate fabric. He brought his legs up, bending them at the knees, hoping to slow down your movements but you couldn’t be contained, riding him for all he was worth. 

You caught a glimpse of his fangs protruding past his lower lip, and that was enough to send you spiraling into another orgasm, clamping down on him and causing him to cry out as he filled you (again) to the brim.  

When you replicated the same steps from before—pulling out and allowing him a second before attempting to stuff him back in you— Miguel stopped you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“No more,” he begged. You’d never heard him beg before. It sounded so pretty with the tiniest hint of vulnerability that had your cunt aching for more. 

“I-It’s okay,” you panted, leaning down to kiss him, “one more, okay? One more.” 

You carefully sat on his large cock again, sinking down carefully.

And whenever he hissed and groaned, you ignored it.

…

When you woke up you were in the bath. 

The warm water smelled of lavender and jasmine, caressing your skin pleasantly.

Miguel loomed above you, hair wet and a white t-shirt clinging to his moist skin. He lathered a bath sponge in soap before lifting your arm, gently scrubbing your skin.

You blinked the sleep from your tired eyes, gazing up at him. He looked beautiful. His lips were pursed in concentration as he focused on each individual finger, making sure to scrub the grime from under your fingernails.

“Miguel?” You called to him quietly, your fingers twitching in his hand. His red eyes shifted to your face, the concerned look from earlier still plastered over his features. “Are you mad at me?” 

Miguel grunted, dropping your hand to dip the sponge in the water before taking up your other hand.

“My girlfriend’s an idiot,” he muttered, scrubbing away at your fingers. You frowned, sinking deeper into the water until your mouth was barely above the surface. Your body ached but your pussy ached more. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered sadly, “I thought I could handle it on my own.” Miguel heaved a sigh, urging you to sit up so that he could scrub your back.

“I know, baby,” he answered softly, “but I don’t want you doing that again, ¿me escuchas? You need to communicate with me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your head hanging low in defeat. You didn’t know how much you’d slept, but you were still exhausted, your eyes heavy with the threat of sleep. 

Miguel grunted in response, before placing a kiss to your brow—his silent way of forgiving you.

“I told you to stay away from the daisies the last time we were there.”

“It was an accident.”

Another grunt from Miguel. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked, brushing a wet finger over the bulge on his briefs. He hissed, slapping your hand away.

“Off limits.” He snapped.

“Are you serious?” 

“Yes. I can’t count how many times you made me cum.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” 

“Cállate.” 

You giggled, carefully reaching up to place a kiss over his pouting lips. 

“Love you too, Miguel.”

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Please can we have more Yan justice league?

Maybe the reader has a boyfriend in the military so she doesn't see him much and when he comes back to visit, the go on a fancy date before they crash it?

It would make it even better if they reacted to the boyfriend about to propose to her!

A Day in Life: Heartbreaks

Synopsis: A day in your life where your yanderes find a secret of yours and tell you another one.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Modern!40s!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Tw: Bucky you’re one of my fav characters from Marvel, I'm so sorry I did u dirty😭; Heavy mentions of cheating and NO forgiving; Stalking; English isn’t my 1st language.

Word count: 1k

Requested? Duh.

Extra notes: I should be studying instead of writing this. Also omg I got so many requests in just a few hours, thank you very much!! I'm writing them all!!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Since most of your days became filled with stress and anxiety, you started appreciating even more moments where you could just forget all your problems, from small ones — like, lack of motivation to go to the gym, bad hair days and an ingredient you forgot at your fridge and became rotten—, and big, out of your control ones — like seven superheroes, who you see almost everyday, stalking you.

Your boyfriend getting back was one of the best dic(k)strations.

Bucky was a sergeant, he spent weeks, even months, away from you on missions. It was hard, but you were both busy people, so your mind was usually too stimulated to think about boy problems only all day, most adults were, and you believed the hard work would be worth it one day. The future was hopefully bright.

The League never mentioned him. Actually, some of them implied more than once that they thought you were available, so they probably didn't know about your relationship. You didn't use much social media and your boyfriend got especially busy this year, so it made sense.

He paid for you to get your nails done earlier and took you to a nice restaurant. After that, Bucky took you for a walk around the city, lively and beautiful even at night, and stopped at the park where your first date happened. Everything was fine, until he got on his knees. Suddenly, seven, mostly colorful, figures descended upon you from out of nowhere, screaming.

— (Y/N)! YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM! — Flash’s voice startled you, confirming your suspicions to who the group was.

You growled.

— SERIOUSLY? LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S MY DAY OFF! — Bucky, who had swiftly gotten up with his fast reflexes as soon as the heroes charged, blinked at the sight. He looked between you all.

— Doll? What’s this? — You looked apologetic at him.

— Sorry, Bucky. Since I got my job, my bosses got… Protective over me… — You didn't want him to get hurt. Bucky and his friends had a great sense of justice and hated bullies. He would surely want to do something if he knew the true extent of things. You also didn't want to ruin the vision he had of his idols.

Since their obsessive behavior started, you just counted your lucky stars that they would just get tired of you one day or wouldn't sabotage your relationships. They seemed fine with you having friends, but dating was different.

You turned to the League.

— Go! — They shook their heads.

— You can't trust this bastard, darling. We have proof of his betrayal to you. — You looked at Wonder Woman skeptically and crossed your arms. Bucky gulped.

— Oh, really? How so? — You raised an eyebrow.

Batman fiddled with his wrist computer, a second later, a protection was shown and different pictures and videos of your man talking and being very intimate with someone very familiar to you appeared. Your stomach churned and your heart ached.

— This is fake! Doll, you have to believe me! — Bucky cried out and got in front of you, holding your shoulders, trying to cover your vision from the images. You took a step back and kept looking at the images.

The League had more than enough means necessary to fake all of this, but you knew Natasha was Bucky’s ex, and they were still friends and coworkers, even with their intense heartbreak. You sometimes got insecure and worried since they spent so much time together, but he always told you you had nothing to worry about…

You gulped.

The League was all glaring at his back while he shouted a hundred words per minute, desperately trying to convince you he was telling the truth.

Superman growled and walked forward until he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders and pulled him away from you.

— Stay away from them, you asshole. (Y/N), I would never do that to you. — You ignored Green Lantern's words, like you were doing since the pacifier incident. You knew he was getting desperate and that made you specially scared, but at least he gave you some distance.

— Not now. — Batman took a step forward. — A few hours ago, we discovered your relationship. For security reasons, we searched, and found these pictures and conversations from his second social accounts, that he uses to commit his cheating.

— He didn't try to hide much, he thought he wouldn't get caught. — Flash stated.

— I-I need more proof… These could be old… — Your first words spoken made Bucky shut up. Mind scrambling for something.

— Let the Lasso of Truth speak for him. — In a second, the Lasso was thrown around Bucky's torso and he was squirming. — Speak, you worthless mortal! — Wonder Woman ordered.

Bucky was able to struggle for a few seconds, before he blurted out.

— It's truth! It's truth! I told her we broke up and started dating her again! I thought I could have you both at the same time!

You gasped. Your hand shot to your chest.

Flash was on your side in a second, trying to hug and comfort you, but you pushed him away. You started crying from heartbreak and anger.

— HOW COULD YOU?! — You glared at him and pointed at his face.

— Doll… I swear I love you both. But I'm also narcissistic, insecure and look down on women. — The Lasso was really doing its job. You laughed humorlessly.

You had nothing to say anymore. No reason to stay. You took advantage of his tied arms and got close, punched his nose, and stomped away.

The League contemplated going after you and trying to bring you comfort, but Batman and Martian Manhunter decided to just let Bucky go (after intimidating him so as to not get close to you again) and follow you discreetly, watching you from the shadows, intervening only if necessary.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

Taglist:

@wandalfnation

[gloomwitchwrites]

Locker Room: Simon's POV

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, possessive behavior, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), dirty thoughts, multiple creampie

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: originally for @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge, this is Simon's POV follower parts ONE & Two of Locker Room.

A/N(2): Remember how I said I was in the emergency room and have been feeling like absolute shit? Well I slept for 48 hours and I felt well enough to write this. Enjoy!

Part One // Part Two

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

A bloke shouldn’t have his wank interrupted in the shower.

Simon had been in his head, his hand around his cock, stroking himself to the image of the woman he’s been thinking about for the last few fucking months.

He had heard the silence first, all the banter in the locker room ceasing. That pulled him right out of it, and in seconds Simon stepped out of the shower with a towel around his hips. Your voice drifted in, demanding an audience with him.

And he knew why.

He left that little note on purpose.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Simon wanted to rile you up, to push you a bit, but he didn’t think you’d barge into the men’s locker room just to confront him.

When he appeared, and everyone cleared out, Simon didn’t expect such fire from you. He thought you would fold. That with one look you’d melt into him, but you did the opposite. And then you grabbed him by the fucking dog tags and kissed him.

Simon was done for.

The moment you left, he returned to that shower and jerked himself so fast it almost hurt. He had to have you, but Simon wasn’t going to go after you right then. He made himself wait, and that was the hardest fucking part. Simon desired nothing more than to follow you out of that locker room, toss you over his shoulder, and carry you off.

He’s glad he waited. Simon took you in your office, and yet it wasn’t enough. Not for either of you. Worse, Simon could tell that you were going to end it right then, leave everything nice and tidy. And Simon wasn’t having that.

Now, you’re here, in his home.

Naked. Bare. Skin glossy with sweat. Pussy full of his cum.

You’re fucking beautiful like this, and the sounds you make are even sweeter.

With arms outstretched against the bed, you arch your back, pushing your ass up into the air. Simon fills his hands with those perfect cheeks. He squeezes, leans forward, and gently bites, pulling forth a moan from your lips that goes straight to his dick.

You’ve been milking him all fucking night. You keep demanding more, and Simon is happy to give it. He doesn’t want to go into work. He wants to stay right here. With you. In his bed.

With your knees digging into the top of the bed, you spread them a bit, exposing your pussy to Simon. He cannot help himself when he sees the mess he’s made there. Removing one hand from your ass, Simon runs his fingers over your slick pussy. The sound of his fingers sliding through you invades the room, and it is all Simon can focus us.

It’s a gorgeous sight. A gorgeous sound.

“You want more, love?” asks Simon gently.

His gaze sweeps over your body as his fingers play with your pussy. You shiver, inhale sharply, and then moan a reply that sounds like an agreement. You’re almost twitching with need. You can’t stay still. Every part of you is asking for more, opening for him, but Simon needs to hear those sweet words on your lips.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time leaning over your body to grasp your face and turn your gaze on him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me, Simon.” You’re begging, almost pleading, and Simon will happily oblige.

Gently, Simon releases you from his hold, only to press you into the position he wants. You’re flat on your stomach as Simon runs his hands up and down your back. It’s a soothing gesture, but it’s mostly to comfort you than him.

Simon is burning beneath his skin. He desperately wants to be inside you, but he also knows that he’s exhausted you, and while you’re not entirely satiated, he doesn’t want you to push it.

His hands fall upon your hips. Simon eases them up a bit, urging your thighs apart with his knees. You comply, and the obedience is delicious to him. You’re demanding—full of fire—and yet for him, you’re melting before his eyes. It’s so different from the Locker Room and from your office.

Slowly, Simon drapes himself over you, flexing his hips back to line the head of his cock up to your entrance. The moment he starts to push in, you groan loudly, body starting to lift from the bed. But Simon relaxes his weight, trapping you beneath him. He props himself up on his left elbow and forearm. While is other hand pressed into the bed next to your waist.

There is no escape. You cannot wiggle out from under him or even buck against him. Simon likes it like this. Like you beneath him. Likes you sweaty. Panting. Begging.

Simon retreats and thrusts forward, sliding in to the hilt. Even now, you’re so fucking tight it’s smashing his brain into mush. He needs to fucking control himself, to make this pleasurable for you as much as it is for him.

He starts slow, finding a rhythm that has you moaning in just the way he likes. It’s almost a tell. Even now, Simon is reading your signals.

Simon brushes his lips against the curve of your shoulder. His tongue darts out to taste the salt. “You’ve been so good for me,” he murmurs. “Taking me well all night.”

“Simon,” you groan as he hits that sweet spot.

Simon grins against your shoulder blade. His hand slips from the bed to slide underneath your body. With each stroke, Simon stimulates your clit. He doesn’t change pace. He knows better. Soon you’re melting. Shaking. Each breath of yours quickening until it’s a guttural groan that even has Simon questioning his sanity.

You vibrate and shake. There is victory on Simon’s tongue. He slips his hand from beneath your body only to tangle it in your hair. He holds firm and then he rocks his hips faster, grunting his own need out above you until his lower-half tenses, and then he’s gasping, his release flooding your pussy.

Simon almost collapses.

He is worn out. Fucking tired. How many times have the two of you fucked tonight? At least five. And this might just be the last of the evening.

Simon runs his hand over your hip and waist only to dip to your stomach. With one fluid motion, Simon curls onto his side, bringing you to rest against his chest. Brushing your hair out of face, Simon kisses a trail from the curve of your shoulder to your lips.

You greet him with a smile.

Simon’s hand roams upward, only to lightly wrap around the front of your neck. You do not protest or push back at this, and something primal within Simon awakens.

This is not a one-time thing for him. You are his, and if that means he needs to mark his territory, he fucking will. Any man at work that even looks at your wrong is dead.

Well—not dead. But Simon will make damn sure they know to back the fuck off.

You’re his. Even if you haven’t agreed. Even if you haven’t decided anything.

You are not walking away.

This isn’t over.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess

@saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @lialacleaf

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @webmvie @blackhawkfanatic @contractedcriteria

@talooolaaloolla @rogerrhqpsody @sadlonelybagel @cinnabeanz @aykxz98

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @sammysinger04

@certainlygay @soapyreaper @hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair

@suhmie @kidd3ath @lovely-ateez @marispunk

[all-the-fish]

Oh, you know, just the usual internet browsing experience in the year of 2024

Some links and explanations since I figured it might be useful to some people, and writing down stuff is nice.

First of all, get Firefox. Yes, it has apps for Android/iOS too. It allows more extensions and customization (except the iOS version), it tracks less, the company has a less shitty attitude about things. Currently all the other alternatives are variations of Chromium, which means no matter how degoogled they supposedly are, Google has almost a monopoly on web browsing and that's not great. Basically they can introduce extremely user unfriendly updates and there's nothing forcing them to not do it, and nowhere for people to escape to. Current examples of their suggested updates are disabling/severly limiting adblocks in June 2024, and this great suggestion to force sites to verify "web environment integrity" ("oh you don't run a version of chromium we approve, such as the one that runs working adblocks? no web for you.").

uBlockOrigin - barely needs any explanation but yes, it works. You can whitelist whatever you want to support through displaying ads. You can also easily "adblock" site elements that annoy you. "Please log in" notice that won't go away? Important news tm sidebar that gives you sensory overload? Bye.

Dark Reader - a site you use has no dark mode? Now it has. Fairly customizable, also has some basic options for visually impaired people.

SponsorBlock for YouTube - highlights/skips (you choose) sponsored bits in the videos based on user submissions, and a few other things people often skip ("pls like and subscribe!"). A bit more controversial than normal adblock since the creators get some decent money from this, but also a lot of the big sponsors are kinda scummy and offer inferior product for superior price (or try to sell you a star jpg land ownership in Scotland to become a lord), so hearing an ad for that for the 20th time is kinda annoying. But also some creators make their sponsored segments hilarious.

Privacy Badger (and Ghostery I suppose) - I'm not actually sure how needed these are with uBlock and Firefox set to block any tracking it can, but that's basically what it does. Find someone more educated on this topic than me for more info.

Https Everywhere - I... can't actually find the extension anymore, also Firefox has this as an option in its settings now, so this is probably obsolete, whoops.

Facebook Container - also comes with Firefox by default I think. Keeps FB from snooping around outside of FB. It does that a lot, even if you don't have an account.

WebP / Avif image converter - have you ever saved an image and then discovered you can't view it, because it's WebP/Avif? You can now save it as a jpg.

YouTube Search Fixer - have you noticed that youtube search has been even worse than usual lately, with inserting all those unrelated videos into your search results? This fixes that. Also has an option to force shorts to play in the normal video window.

Consent-O-Matic - automatically rejects cookies/gdpr consent forms. While automated, you might still get a second or two of flashing popups being yeeted.

XKit Rewritten - current most up to date "variation "fork" of XKit I think? Has settings in extension settings instead of an extra tumblr button. As long as you get over the new dash layout current tumblr is kinda fine tbh, so this isn't as important as in the past, but still nice. I mostly use it to hide some visual bloat and mark posts on the dash I've already seen.

YouTube NonStop - do you want to punch youtube every time it pauses a video to check if you're still there? This saves your fists.

uBlacklist - blacklists sites from your search results. Obviously has a lot of different uses, but I use it to hide ai generated stuff from image search results. Here's a site list for that.

Redirect AMP to HTML - redirects links from their amp version to the normal version. Amp link is a version of a site made faster and more accessible for phones by Bing/Google. Good in theory, but lets search engines prefer some pages to others (that don't have an amp version), and afaik takes traffic from the original page too. Here's some more reading about why it's an issue, I don't think I can make a good tl;dr on this.

Also since I used this in the tags, here's some reading about enshittification and why the current mainstream internet/services kinda suck.

[divinefeminine-card]

Pick a card: Your life two years from now

Hello everyone, it has been a while isn't it? I thought what should be the topic of my second pac. Then this idea came to my mind, not original but anyways haha. Now, before we head on I need you all to know that growth is different for everyone. Okay? And to be very honest, it is also as much fine if you feel you haven't grown at all, because I promise you have, it is inevitable. We are always growing.

To pick a pile now, choose whatever image attracts you first. Its fine if more than one image attracts you guys. And if nothing really calls you then this pac might not be for you, have a good day, lots of love and light to you :D

Piles:

1-2

3-4

5-6

Readings 🍒

Pile 1

Hello my Pile 1, what I am seeing is you guys, two years from now, would have gotten really experienced in certain areas of life. Like, you know the shit, alright? Combat, you are ready for combat. You are aware and awake. Ready to tackle any obstacle or whatsoever. The next two years are definitely very much significant for you guys in terms of emotional maturity. You guys will definitely learn to listen to your intuition. Let me tell you, it's NOT easy to listen to your intuition and not confuse it with other things but I am seeing you guys will be very much certain in this as well.

Uh-ha! Pile 1, you will definitely be doing some kind of work, job or creating something solid/stable by yourselves. Mark my words. You all will be so skilled omg I am so happy for you!!!! You all will be so meticulous in your craft, so expert! It's awesome!! I am getting the mature-independent vibes!!! It might be something you always had a talent of 👀

Going to get-togethers, parties, having your own standing. You know, you might frequent different parties, get-togethers, meetings. I am definitely seeing you all really standing your ground and own no matter what!! Just being confident in oneself.

Two years from now, you guys would have worked through many of your fears, mostly societal fear I believe. You will be your unapologetic self, love 🥺

If by any chance you are worried about your loved ones safety and security, fret not, they will be safe and secure :)))

I love you guys so much, hope you liked the reading.

Pile 2

Hello my Pile 2, Damn guys, majority of your cards are of Major Arcana!!

Two years from now, I am seeing you guys being more outspoken than ever before. Like, just saying whatever comes to your mind. It's kinda cute to be very honest (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

This is a very recurring typa theme in this pile, you guys will be your most balanced and in tune with yourself version of yours ever!!! I am seeing you and your lives to be very much at peace. Nothing too high, nothing too low. Things are going on calmly and peacefully. You will be connected to both your masculine and feminine side in perfect harmony. So happy. Your life and you, yourself will be so full of happiness and optimism, it would be contagious to the people around you. You will be blooming!!

You guys will be just and good. You will not be the type to be swayed by fake greed and flash. Protecting your peaceful life I am seeing. You will be the type to do your work quietly and retire to your chambers as soon as possible. Your coworkers will be very cooperative as well. You will be supported and looked after.

I see child-like happiness within you guys. You will be blessed and happy. You know that song Colorful World by Kathryn Ostenburg, that's what I am reminded of while doing this reading. I will link it here.

Lots of love and emotional time here. This can be a healing period for you. It might be a bit uncomfortable but trust it's gonna be so so good.

Pile 3

Hello my Pile 3!

Getting on with your reading, I am definitely seeing lots of competition, determination, using your resources, trying to be as quick as possible, preservation of wealth and defence of your own self.

Okay, so two years from now, your life will be quite in a moving state, like things are actively in motion. Situations and things are still building up. Resources are scattered so preservation is also very important. I am sensing that the environment you will be in two years from now will be quite competitive, and very very very opportunistic, selfish as well I think. Everyone wants to be at the top, but not everyone can be at the top here, so the brutal competition is.

Even though you will have secured your own position but I am still seeing the stance of defense and alertness here, ready to strike if anyone dares touch what yours truthfully, rightfully. Despite all of the harsh surroundings though, you still will be down-to-earth and humble at heart ❤️ Love that for you my pile 3. You are self-sufficient and happy in yourself.

Whenever you would feel seriously down, you would look at all the abundance you have, and be like "Oh, I have this, no need to be sad 💅🏻 🤓" haha, it's specific but boy do I feel it will be so true.

At times, the period might seem very bleak but always remember to hold your vision high my lovely pile 3, you all have got this okay?? No matter what, you all have got this! The answers you have been yearning for long will be given to you. Just hold on to the hope. Take these trials as the test of your commitment! You got this my pile 3! I love you 💖

Pile 4

Hello my Pile 4!! I am seeing a very fulfilled and happy life for you guys. Like, when I say fulfilled I mean, you would have the money, the wisdom and the love (both giving and receiving).

You would feel complete in ALL areas of life, my pile 4 I swear. You would not be afraid of being vulnerable either. Instead, I feel it will be something which will give you great strength in tough times. You would feel the success you have achieved after a period of growth. You will feel happy, pile 4, truly happy. You will be juggling different aspects of your life, most likely professional life and family life. It would be a difficult task but, oh aren't you a damn skilled juggler my pile 4?? Things will go up and down but you will skillfully balance them out.

You will definitely be fiercely protective of everything you have cultivated over the years, if something serious were to happen you wouldn't take a second to take the matter in legal hands. You are so cool for that! Never shy away. I am also seeing you might be in the position of leadership, leading people with wisdom and guidance.

Now, seeing the abundance of everything, some snakes might be growing themselves in your yard without your knowledge, in simpler words, someone close to you might not want your best and will try to sabotage you in some way. Look out for them.

Don't try to take too much in your control. If you are feeling so let it be, and if necessary so, let it go, let them go. Don't let pride get in your way. It's fine to sometimes just lower your guard down and be one with everyone. You and your loved ones are safe and sound, waiting for you to return home. Come soon ❤️.

Pile 5

Hello my Pile 5! So, I think it will be, what you can call a very balanced life. You know the ups and downs of life, going on and on and on in cycles.

I think two years from now, you guys will be in your healing era. Healing from the past wounds and preparing for the brighter future. Really proud of you guys. You know, healing is a process, a long one and sometimes a tedious one. So, these past wounds, rewiring your minds might keep you awake at night, thinking what you should or shouldn't have done, even if it seems like I promise it's not the end of the world. After this you all will be in a deep resting healing time. Like, genuine rest, not laying down and having all the lifetime crisis in a single moment.

When this all hard work starts showing their fruits, you will feel it, so my pile 5, two years from now, you guys will be embracing your femininity to its fullest finally, after needing to have kept it hidden. You will let yourself feel the emotions coming through you, to you. You will be secure and stable. You are like a young sprout 🌱, no matter your age, with a lot of potential to grow, and you will, watch my words. Two years from now, you will be comfortable in yourselves. Not taking shit from anybody finally.

You will start planting seeds for your better future. Carefully mending it. Looking forward to it.

I would also like to tell you, I feel you guys will get into a loving relationship or form a deep friendship with someone ;) whichever it will be, it will be healthy with boundaries, okay guys?? Healing is ultimately what you do, but you can never deny the environmental factors. This bond will definitely have a significant impact on you.

Have faith, look at the bigger picture and have fun. That's it! Bye pile 5!

Pile 6

Hello my Pile 6! The energy is quite dynamic must I say. It's all about taking back the control you were stripped off of or never had thought deserved in the first place.

The environment you will be in would be veryyyy competitive. It's like, even when you guys are doing the cheers 🥂 it will be a competition of who can do so the highest. There will be meaningful friendships but still competitive, no sabotaging though. There will be constant support from around.

The times will be quite chaotic. You never know when the rug would be pulled from beneath your feet. Unexpected things happen, one after another, no break or whatsoever. It will be like you are at the top of the world one second and the other at the bottom. Even though expected, it will always bring disturbance to you and your life. Things will seem like they are breaking down one after another. BUT WAIT!

You guys will be fighting (quite literally, academically, legally, physically, mentally (hopefully safely, don't worry)). Like, taking back what was meant to be yours. Working and practicing real hard, like REAL. And you will NOT be quiet about your strength my pile 6 😂 you will be like "I was gonna win. Told you so." It's fun. Anyways.

You will be so experienced during and after all this turmoil. You will finally gain the very much needed stability after all this time. You will reason with your head. Become a mature version of you, the version of desired. It's awesome!!

You pile 6, are definitely one sneaky fella :D you definitely know your way around your field and will get what you desire by hook or crook, good on you haha. You are the type to not attack from the front but rather from the side, neither are wrong though as long as you know you are doing well ;)

So guysss, the reading ends here. This is my second pac. Let me know how you like it, if you please. Any criticism or praise? Bring them on.

Hope you enjoy reading this pac as much as I enjoyed writing it! If anything, just more!

[2demondogs]

Pet Name Headcanons | Arthur, Dutch, Hosea

A/N: Gender-neutral reader. I wanna do these for most of the gang but didn't know a good "grouping" so I went with the old guard fellas first. GIF cred: 1 / 2 / 3.

Sweetheart, honey, sugar, pretty lady / handsome man, my girl / man, sunshine, moonshine for flavor, physical traits (freckles, shortstack, etc.)

It leaves a weird taste in Arthur's mouth to be less than genuine about these things. If it doesn't fit you, he won't say it. If it isn't the right time, he won't call you a nickname. If he doesn't feel particularly struck by affection-- he won't say anything just to be cute.

The right time to him is usually when you're alone or around company you both trust. If you're upset or hurt, he'll lay it on extra thick because he feels useless with verbal comfort and it helps communicate that he cares.

His catalogue isn't too broad, and he tends to stick with casual, but overall sweet pet names.

He'll probably get used to anything you call him, but I can't imagine he'd be too keen on it being debuted in front of someone else. He'd rather chew on how it makes him feel in private company first.

Darlin', beautiful, gorgeous, angel, baby, dove, lamb, variations of your name, my love, my dear, make anything possessive and he'll say it

Dutch always has something new to call you, whether it's from reading, overhearing a couple in town, or a song. He would be more unwilling to admit that he sees a lot of things that remind him of you, and that's where some stranger nicknames have come from.

Where Arthur's names are youthful, at least for the time, Dutch is a middle-ground between him and Hosea. He tends to go for old money type endearments more than old coot -- ones that carry the sense of high class that he ironically wants to maintain. Because of course, he overthinks even this.

His possessiveness is largely insecurity, so he drops a my in front of any name he calls you in public. It's typically a steady stream of endearments. Honestly, sometimes you wonder if he's forgotten your first name.

In the vain of maintaining images, he'll be fine with whatever you call him in private, in the end. In public, he will get very uncomfortable with certain names. Maybe don't call him Old Girl.

Dear, darling, m'love, my girl / my man, old girl / old man, babe, honey, sweetheart, precious, my heart, peach, handsome man / pretty girl

Hosea is a bit older, and it shows. His choices in endearments are usually saccharine and the type people only like to say after making a commitment.

Timing doesn't concern him. If it's clearly an inappropriate time, that's different. Usually, though, it's second-nature to call you the first kind thing that comes to mind.

He says your name often. He likes it because it's, well, you as a word can get. Mister/Miss and your last name is another common occurrence, though usually in a playful way.

He doesn't care what you call him or when. Well, if it's really out there, he might -- mostly, he's content that you want to refer to him as anything but his name. A reminder that you're sweet on him is always a good thing. It's like a verbal kiss on the cheek to him.

[talaok]

The world needs more daddy Pedro with a baby/toddler

pairing: dad!Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: I wrote this for the sole purpose to stop crying cause like get a grip girl and it didn't even work so yup... enjoy. (Also, I 100% agree bestie)

You woke up gasping for air, your baby's cries sounding through the baby monitor doing a damn good job at interrupting your sleep for the third time tonight.

You let out a breathy grunt as you turned to your side.

Pedro was looking at you, for some god-forsaken reason, with a smile pulling at his lips.

Of course he would find the silver lining in all this.

"I'll go" you whispered

"no, don't worry"

"Baby you already went twice" you protested

"It's fine, really" 

again, another smile.

"u sure?" you asked, secretly praying to whoever was listening that he was, in fact, sure.

"I'm sure mama" he nodded, kissing your forehead "You stay here and rest"

"alright" you sniffled, not even trying to fight the yawn climbing your throat "Thank you baby"

He got up from the bed, glancing at you one more time before quietly walking out of the room.

...

He didn't need to turn on the lights, he would have known how to get to his daughter's room with his eyes closed by now.

He was the one who got up to check on her most of the times, and there were two main reasons why:

The first one was that he had never been much of a sleeper, so anytime she started crying, chances were, he had already been awake.

But the second, and perhaps most important one, was that he didn't mind, hell, actually, he loved it. He treasured that moment, the feeling of holding his own child (yes it still felt weird to say), of hearing her breathe, sensing her tiny heartbeat, watching as the eyes she had inherited from her mother struggled to remain open... it filled his chest with something so powerful he had no idea how to describe it, it was just- it was pure joy, pure love.

And this time was no different.

He gently picked the tiny creature screaming at the top of her lungs up and out of the crib, holding her in his arms as if she were a lost treasure.

"hey angel" he cooed, softly bouncing her to try and soothe her 

"what's wrong?" he murmured, tenderly stroking her head "Tell daddy what's wrong"

"Are you hungry?" he asked mostly himself "No you can't be hungry, now I fed you an hour ago"

"nope you don't even need to change your diaper" he concluded after examining her

"what is it then sweetpea?" he murmured, drowning in her big beautiful eyes.

God, he had the most perfect baby ever

"you had a bad dream, is that it?"

"I'll tell you what, how 'bout we sit here," he said, as he took a seat on the armchair next to the crib "and I sing you a song huh? You liked that last time"

"yeah?" he smiled, watching her studying his face as if she was waiting for him to start.

She was already starting to calm down.

He had that effect on her.

"then get ready pumpkin"

...

"what are you doing?" you murmured, watching your husband holding your sleeping daughter.

You had come looking for him when you realized his side of the bed was empty.

"I don't want to wake her up" he explained

You smiled as you took in the image.

He was watching her as if she was gonna disappear any second now.

Without a second thought, you pulled the other arm-chair in the room right beside the one Pedro was sitting on.

"What are you doing?"

"There's no way I'm letting you sleep here alone" 

He beamed as he watched you sit down next to him.

You rested your head on his shoulder, his scent wrapping around you ever so quickly, as you both looked down at your daughter.

Tiny breaths were fleeing her tiny lips as she slept soundly.

"she's perfect" you smiled

"she is" he agreed, resting his own head on top of yours.

"I love you y'know?" he murmured, after a moment of silence "I love you two more than anything in this world"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt and your heart threatened to burst.

"Me too honey" you promised "more than anything in this world"

[heich0e]

Inquiring minds would like to know the circumstances behind Endo meeting his son twice 🎤

the first time, you begged yamato to meet kosuke.

part of you hoped—foolishly, naively—that maybe this would be the opportunity to change things. that maybe seeing that sweet little baby—who looks so much like him, with the same mop of curly hair, the same nose, and the same dark, wispy eyelashes—might be the thing that convinced him that this (that you, and kosuke, and your life together) was all worth it.

endo shows up to the coffee shop you'd asked him to meet you at more than half an hour late. kosuke has fallen asleep in his pram after fussing for a bit since you'd gotten dangerously close to his usual nap time. the ice in the drink you'd ordered when you first arrived has mostly melted in the afternoon sun, though the beverage is still largely untouched.

yamato doesn't apologize. doesn't offer any excuse for his tardiness either. he asks if you're going to finish your drink, and when you say no he starts slurping it back.

he seems hungover—you've seen it enough times to tell. his hair is tousled in a way that tells you he only just rolled out of bed even though it's past midday, and you don't doubt he's dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing the night before. you try not to focus on the lovebite you can see at the base of his throat.

he barely casts a glance at the infant dozing peacefully in the stroller next to you—his eyes focusing primarily on the neckline of your shirt and the post-partum swell of your chest. he slumps back in his seat as he chews idly on the straw of your drink, the quintessential image of a man who finds all of this a chore rather than an opportunity.

the two of you don't say much in the brief meeting, but it's enough to tell you everything you need to know.

he doesn't once hold his son. never so much as touches him.

the second time yamato meets him is an unfortunate accident.

kosuke spent the afternoon at your parents house since you had to work late. your mother picked him up from preschool, and you went to your childhood home to collect him once you were finally done your work for the day.

your parents had already taken care of feeding kosuke dinner, all you'd need to do once you arrive home is get him into his pyjamas and tuck him into bed, but you hadn't had the chance to eat all day and figured a quick trip to the convenience store wouldn't be too off course on your way home with your son.

you pick up a few simple, easy things for dinner from the refrigerated section and a carton of milk for kosuke's breakfast the next morning. at your side in the checkout line, kosuke holds your hand that's not toting the plastic shopping basket, telling you little bits of his day at school—while occasionally glancing longingly at the capsule toy machine by the door in a way that you're sure he thinks you don't notice.

"ume-sensei said that the sunfowlers will be opened up next week," kosuke says, his little fingers squeezing yours excitedly. the way he mispronounces flowers makes your heart flutter fondly. "he even said i can bring one home for you, mama, but that i gotta keep it secret."

you trap a giggle in your throat and squeeze your little boy's hand twice.

"i can't wait to see it."

"they're reallllly tall too! not as tall as ume-sensei though..." kosuke trails off thoughtfully as he reflects upon the garden and the young man who tends to it so diligently.

"well, umemiya sensei is pretty tall himself," you note, and from the corner of your eye you see the customer in front of you take their shopping bag of purchases and move towards the exit. you take a step towards the register. "it's no surprise that—"

before you can place your shopping basket on the counter, a figure cuts in front of you in line. at your side, kosuke bumps face-first into your leg, not expecting your sudden stop—you glance down immediately, checking to make sure he's all right. he seems fine, though a little stunned, and you immediately look towards the back of the man who cut in front of you so rudely.

"add a pack of mevius super lights, too."

the sound of the man in front of you's voice makes your stomach plummet and your grip on kosuke's little hand tighten.

the cashier behind the counter is clearly shocked by how rudely the man had stepped in front of you, and hesitates even after hearing the customer's abrasive request. the boy in the polyester uniform vest is young, probably no older than 20, and he looks at you apologetically from the other side of the till. irritated by the cashier's delay, the customer standing between you turns around to follow his gaze.

yamato's eyes meet yours for the first time in three years, and for a moment it's like everything stops.

"oh," he says after a moment, an uncharacteristic look of surprise on his (still infuriatingly handsome) face. that momentary expression melts into something more familiar, more befittingly smug. "long time no see."

your lips, teeth and tongue are suddenly mutinous—refusing to give shape to any words. your brain isn't offering any particular defence to this uprising, anyway: words are utterly beyond you as you stare at him blankly.

kosuke crowds closer to your legs, shifting slightly behind you in the way he tends to around people he doesn't recognize, and the familiar weight and warmth of his little body clinging to you grounds you in that moment. you're suddenly snapped out of your stupor.

you turn away from endo, crouching down to your son's level.

"kosuke," you say softly, brushing some of his dark curls back from his eyes. you fish a couple of 100 yen coins out from your coat pocket and press them into your son's little palm. "why don't you go see if you can get that toy you've been trying for from the capsule machine while mama checks out?"

kosuke's eyes go wide as he stares down at the money and he nods, hesitating only for a moment before he skitters over to the vending machine near the doors—his rain boots pitter-pattering against the convenience store's tiled floors as he goes.

"shit, he got big," yamato remarks casually as kosuke walks away, and your eyes snap back to the man standing above you. he's got his hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket, slouchy and hanging off one shoulder. his eyes are on kosuke as your little boy surveys the various capsule options carefully, but soon his gaze slides back to you.

you stand, returning to your full height. "he's small for his age, actually."

"how old is he now?" the comment slices at your fraying tolerance.

"four."

the least he could do is have the decency to remember when his own son was born, but you've long given up on any hopes of yamato being decent.

the cashier behind the counter seems to sense the tension between the two of you and busies himself retrieving the pack of cigarettes endo had requested. he still smokes the same brand, but that doesn't surprise you—endo yamato is unchanging in all the worst ways.

the cashier scans the the blue cigarette packet and adds it to his other purchase on the counter.

a box of condoms.

your eyes meet yamato's again.

"learned my lesson," he says to you with a blithe smile before tossing a couple of bills towards the cashier to pay for his spoils.

your teeth set on edge, anger boiling over in your core. it's not just the indignity of any implication that his benefit came at your expense that bothers you; it's the fact that your son doesn't deserve be reduced to something like a lesson for someone like him to learn from.

"charming," you hiss derisively.

yamato pockets his change and turns to you with an eyebrow quirked curiously at your tone. you can't remember ever speaking to him like that—the person he knew didn't have the nerve to. but you're not that girl anymore.

you expect him to leave now that his purchases are paid for, but that would be too easy. too kind. he lingers instead as you pay for your purchases, fishing his packet of cigarettes out from his plastic bag as you exchange brief, polite smalltalk with the cashier—who you can't help but think looks concerned for you as he looks furtively at yamato every so often. you smile at him when he hands you your shopping bag and receipt in an attempt to assuage the poor kid's apprehension, but it's as strained as the smalltalk had been.

kosuke is still mulling over his options at the capsule machines, blissfully unaware of your turmoil.

yamato uses his teeth to bite into the plastic packaging wrapped around his cigarette, peeling off the easy-tear strip once he's broken through the casing with his canine. he tears away the rest of the plastic, and it crinkles as he balls it up in his fist. you watch as he tosses it in the direction of the trashcan nearby—no more than a step or two away from where he stands—but it falls short and lands on the floor. he makes no move to pick it up, and you fight the urge to do it for him.

you were always left cleaning up yamato's messes.

but not anymore.

that's a lesson you've learned, now.

"kosuke, it's time to go," you call to your son, holding out the hand not gripping your shopping bag for dear life. your little boy looks at you with wide eyes, and then back towards the capsule machine in front of him. you watch as he hastily sticks his two shiny 100 yen coins in the machine and turns the dial, a brightly coloured plastic ball popping out of the dispenser at the bottom as you approach him.

he plucks it out from the bottom and holds it up to his face excitedly.

"is it the one you wanted?" you ask him with a smile.

kosuke peeks up at you through his lashes, and though he endeavours not to let it show you can tell he's disappointed. glancing down at the capsule in his hand you recognize a little character figurine he already has at home.

"no, but that's okay," he says, holding the plastic sphere in both his hands. "i'll bring this one to school tomorrow for ume-sensei."

"i think that's a great idea," you tell him quietly, pressing a kiss to his temple. "you two can match."

kosuke brightens up noticeably at that suggestion and he nods, more to himself than anything, with a newfound assurance.

"that not the one the kid wanted or something?"

you freeze when you feel yamato's presence behind you, peering down to where you and kosuke are crouched in front of the capsule toy machines. kosuke shrinks into you, tucked up against your side with his toy cradled to his chest. he looks up at the man he doesn't recognize nervously.

"lemme see it." yamato holds out his hand towards kosuke, and your son buries his face into your shoulder shyly.

you sigh, a sudden ache throbbing between your ears. you scoop kosuke up into your arm, balancing him on your hip as you return to your feet. kosuke is still sticking close to you, but you can see him peeking at endo from the corner of his eye.

"doesn't he know how to talk yet?" yamato asks you, his brow furrowed slightly.

"of course he does," you say, your tone sharp even as you endeavour to keep it civil in front of your son. "kosuke's just a little... shy. especially around strangers."

"so your name's kosuke, huh?" yamato muses, another slash of that dull blade against the final threads of your patience. he didn't even remember the name of his own son. he softens his tone, his expression, his gaze—everything about him suddenly a bit gentler than it had been before, in a way that makes you feel nauseated. "can i see what toy you got there, kosuke?"

your son thinks about it for a moment, but then his little hand pops out from underneath his chest where he'd been hiding the plastic capsule against your shoulder. he offers it hesitantly to yamato, who you can tell is fighting back a self-satisfied grin. he plucks the toy from kosuke's grip, appraising the toy inside for a moment.

"hey, this is pretty cool," yamato remarks as he examines the cheap figure. "you don't want this one?"

"i've already got that one at home," kosuke replies, still notably (and rightfully) wary of the man before him.

"can i have it then?" yamato asks.

your lips part in surprise, mortified by the suggestion, but before you can argue, yamato sticks his hand into the pocket of his coat. he roots around for a moment, whatever he has in his pocket jingling noisily, before pulling out a 2,000 yen note.

"don't have any change to trade you, but you can buy yourself a couple more of these with this if you want." he holds the money out towards kosuke who seems a bit confused by the offer.

your son peeks up at you.

"can i, mama?"

you're not sure whether he's asking if what this strange man is saying is true (having little, if any, grasp on the values of goods, services, and the exchange of monetary denominations considering he's only four) or if he's asking for permission to accept the offer. you look at yamato with your eyes narrowed mistrustfully, and then back to the boy in your arms.

"weren't you gonna give what one to umemiya sensei?" you try to reason with him, inexplicably off-put by the idea of yamato giving anything to your son.

"can't i buy more with that?"

unfortunately, he has a point.

"you can buy lots more with this," yamato answers before you get the chance to—wiggling the note in his hand enticingly. "and even candy too."

kosuke's eyes widen in amazement. he hesitates for another moment, looking at you again once more, and then he reaches his little hand out for the money.

yamato can't hide his grin now. or he makes no effort to, at least.

kosuke stares at the 2,000 yen in amazement.

"thank you, mister," he says, quietly awestruck. he smiles at the man in front of him.

yamato laughs—loud and uncannily genuine in a way that makes you squirm. he reaches out and ruffles kosuke's hair in a too-familiar way, but your son is still so giddy with his riches that he doesn't even flinch.

"no problem, kid," yamato says flippantly, stuffing the cheap capsule toy into his pocket. you watch as he fishes out his cigarette pack and plucks one out, tucking it behind his ear as he pivots on his heel towards the exit. the doors slide open to let him out, and he looks over his shoulder at you just before he leaves.

you hold kosuke a bit closer to your side instinctively.

yamato smirks, his eyes crinkling up into crescents.

"see ya around!"

and the worst part is, you can tell he means it.

[findher-ogg]

I think Piper Wright Fallout 4 is one of those characters who's good in theory but not in practice. I was thinking about her as a character in relation to her setting and I genuinely think her archetype would be better suited to the NCR than it is to the Commonwealth.

Which I think comes down to how Bethesda handles their games, environment and attitude wise, as opposed to Black Isle and Obsidian. The West coast has basically recovered. New Vegas is a tourist attraction. The NCR are on a rapid tirade of imperialist expansion that's only achievable because they, as a nation, have recovered from the war and grown from it. If you compare Shady Sands in Fallout 1 to Diamond City in Fallout 4, its kind of funny. Shady Sands started out with decent houses made from dirt, with solid foundation and some of them having actual windows. The average settlement in Bethesda Fallout (like Diamond City or Megaton), meanwhile, are just shanty towns made from tin.

In the Commonwealth's case this is made even more insane by the fact that Fenway Park (where Diamond City is located) is surrounded by mostly intact houses that, with a bit of fixer-uppering, could be lived in relatively normally compared to the tin shacks of Diamond City. I think Megaton gets more of a pass because the Capital Wasteland got nuked to shit, but you get me.

Returning to Piper for a second, let's take a look at her character: she's a spunky, somewhat annoying character who's very invested in the freedom of the press and so forth. She's got a working printing press and everything, which is super impressive considering how run-down the rest of Diamond City is aside from the Valentine Detective Agency signs (seriously, where did they find the materials for those). She runs Publick Occurences solo with her sister, and it's all well and good. Ignoring the witch hunts she sends people on about synths.

And I get it. I think this specific gripe with Piper as a character comes from having played this game for the first time in 2024. The synths don't really hold up as an allegory for anything, and the entire story surrounding them is very "trying to be progressive in 2014". Which is fine, I think it is just a symptom of the era the game came out in, but still.

Piper's character, as a spunky yet annoying journalist who believes the people deserve to know what's going on, would be far better suited in a more developed location on the West coast -- specifically, Freeside or somewhere within the NCR.

I think Piper would suit the Followers of the Apocalypse, for example, serving as an informant to keep them in the know about what's going on between the Strip, the NCR and the regular Freesiders. Plus, having a funny, anarchist-themed newspaper you can receive in-game where she touts her hatred for the Securitron police force is a funny mental image. Equally, I think she'd suit living in Shady Sands -- right at the heart of the NCR's seediest political manouvres as the decisions are made. Imagine her as a journalist who frequently pushes back against the Mojave expansion, for example, and how the NCR is putting too many resources into a lost cause instead of more important things like healthcare or housing. That way, you could still keep her extreme hatred for the upper class in The Stands while making it make more sense within the setting.

Leading on from this, this made me realise how Bethesda also just aren't very deliberate with how they utilise history in their games. Which makes sense, to a certain extent, given how destroyed absolutely everything on the East coast is. But still. It's a little stupid.

The core conflict of New Vegas -- the Legion vs the NCR -- is actually a really deep-cut history reference at its core. The NCR is the Bear, the Legion is the Bull. In mid-19th century California, people watched bears and bulls fight for fun.

There are other, better examples, I'm sure. But I'm British and this is my personal favourite example, so this is what I'm using. History plays such an important part of New Vegas' themes and messaging -- it's a story about how, when, and why humanity needs to move on from the past and look towards the future.

Bethesda Fallout, by comparison, will frequently and shallowly tout "nukes bad" while letting Liberty Prime lob them at Super Mutants, or encouraging players to nuke each other's houses in Fallout 76.

Piper exists partially as a nod to the Boston Herald, and how it's one of the longest-running/most influential newspapers in America. A lot of publishing has its roots within Boston, and I think it's an interesting reference to take.

And I think this is a part of Fallout that Bethesda does get -- a lot of what people do in the post-war world is inspired by what came before. Caesar's Legion and its ideologies come from Edward Sallow not understanding basic Roman history properly and using it to fuel his agenda because it looks cool. The Minutemen are exactly that. The New California Republic are the new US government, right down to the borderline facist intentions and ideologies. I could go on.

And this comes from Fallout being a series about the cyclical nature of violence. "War never changes, but men do through the roads they walk" is the story here. War cannot change if men do not change, because war exists in an endless cycle of violence that can only be broken if man chooses to break it. And they've failed at it so far, right?

And this is where I go back to Piper. Her nod to history isn't as intentional as anything in New Vegas, and I feel like she would have been better served as a character if she was in New Vegas instead. Because her entire character would make more sense if she was living in the more developed and rebuilt towns of the West coast as opposed to a dilapidated shanty town on the East.

I have more thoughts about this but tl;dr Bethesda should really put more effort into making sure their history references and homages make sense to the setting contextually, in the same way that New Vegas does. That game was developed in 18 months and still has far more care put into its historical references than Fallout 4 does. And I love Fallout 4.

[solarmorrigan]

So this started out as some scribbly thoughts on FTM Steve and devolved a little bit into smutty Steddie rambling. As happens. So anyway, explicit text below the cut, click through at your own discretion, et cetera

Warnings(?) for some clumsy language and hints of period-typical transphobia; some discussion of Steve and Nancy together, but only for Steddie purposes. This is mostly just silly

-

“So, wait, you slept with how many girls in high school, and still managed to keep this a secret?” Eddie asks, brows climbing his forehead.

“Not as many as rumor would’ve had you think.” Steve shrugs. “Like maybe four? The rest, I just… didn’t discourage when they exaggerated. Helped my image.”

Eddie can’t help but snort. He’s glad Steve outgrew that image. “Still, four is a lot to keep a lid on. All of them agreed not to tell and then just – didn’t?”

“Actually, most of them never found out. It was only–” Steve pauses, eyeing Eddie cautiously, as if talking about his past female sexual conquests with his current boyfriend is fine, but what he’s going to say next will be a bridge too far. “It was only Nancy who ever knew.”

Ah.

Ah, yes. Nancy. Nancy Wheeler. Steve’s one true love.

Until now, Eddie fiercely reminds himself. He eyes the t-shirt that is very much his that Steve is very much wearing and slides over the jealousy to address his more pressing question.

“Okay, how did you have sex with at least three other people without them finding out you don’t have a–” Eddie stops short, fumbles for a moment, “a, uh, conventional dick?”

Steve snickers. “Nice save. And, uh – I never actually took off my pants. My talents are in other areas, and I always provided enough of a distraction that they didn’t seem to notice when I just… took care of myself.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Eddie, who can’t help but give him the laugh he’s looking for. “It didn’t say flattering things about my stamina, but multiple orgasms are a pretty good bribe. I got good reviews.”

“Huh.” Somehow, Eddie can’t help but feel impressed; he doesn’t quite understand why Steve had felt the need to do it at all—still doesn’t really understand Steve’s drive for popularity when he’d been in high school—but he can admit the skill in the subterfuge. “But you told Wheeler?”

He’s not sure why he’s asking. A part of him, he thinks, wants to make sure Steve had been able to tell her on his own terms, rather than having his hand forced.

Steve shifts, shrugs. He doesn’t look sad, but he’s maybe a little melancholy.

“Nance wasn’t… temporary, for me. She wasn’t a fling, and I didn’t want to hide from her. And it’s the same with you.” Steve’s gaze falls heavy on Eddie. “You are the… third? person I’ve ever told. I want you to know just– all of me.”

Eddie reaches out, grabbing for Steve’s hand; he’s pretty sure he’d be physically incapable of stopping himself from somehow touching Steve after an admission like that.

A thought is beginning to form, however, leading back to what had started this conversation in the first place. Eddie would bet anything that if Wheeler was the first person Steve told, then Buckley was the second.

And that meant only one person Steve had slept with had ever known all of him – but just how much of all of him had Wheeler been interested in?

“How’d she take it? Wheeler, I mean,” Eddie asks, as casually as possible while his thumb is still stroking Steve’s knuckles.

“Uh… pretty good, actually. She was kinda surprised, and she wanted a little bit of time to come around to the idea, but I think she was mostly just bothered that she didn’t figure it out before I told her.” Steve smiles, distantly fond. “But after that, she was cool. We didn’t talk about it much, but I knew that I could talk to her if I wanted to. I’d never had that before. It was… nice.”

It does sound nice. It had probably been the first time anyone had ever been close to accepting every part of who Steve is, and Eddie feels almost bad about turning the memory to sex.

Almost, but not quite.

“So… she was cool with…” Eddie’s eyes flash down below the belt, obvious and significant, “getting involved?”

A sly grin spreads over Steve’s face as he catches Eddie’s eyes. “Are you trying to ask what Nancy and I did in bed?”

Eddie throws his hands up in defense, forgetting for a moment that he’s holding one of Steve’s hands and pulling it up with him. “I’m just trying to figure out what I’m working with here,” he insists, smiling a little too hard to be innocent. “Now, you insinuated you have talents in the oral and digital departments—which I am very interested in, by the way—but what I want to know is what’s been done for you.”

Steve eyes Eddie like he’s considering whether or not to answer, but the way he’s licking his lips says he’s already decided, even if he doesn’t quite realize that himself.

“She… definitely didn’t mind being involved,” he says finally; there’s a slight stain of pink gathering at the tops of his cheeks that Eddie sort of wants to bite. “She would finger me. Sometimes she’d go down on me, but I think we both enjoyed it more the other way around. I think she liked seeing me get myself off while I did it, and I– definitely liked that, too.”

Eddie makes the mistake of imagining it: Steve on his knees, fingers buried in his cunt, wet and dripping, his hips jerking down onto his own hand, maybe kneeling between Eddie’s legs while he does it, maybe looking up through his lashes while he sucks Eddie’s cock.

A little noise escapes Eddie.

“How about… toys?” he manages after a moment. He’s leaning closer now, raptly watching the way the flush on Steve’s face darkens. “You ever try those?”

“I have a… a couple,” Steve says, voice gone low and rough, his eyes fastened now to Eddie’s mouth. “We didn’t use them together, though, they’re just mine.”

Oh, they’re going to revisit that. They are absolutely going to revisit that, but right now Eddie is on a mission. He won’t let himself be distracted.

He slides closer, practically on top of Steve now, one hand on his hip and the other spread warmly over his ribs.

“Never thought about a strap?” he asks.

Steve shrugs, not nearly as nonchalant as he’s pretending. “Thought about it, never quite got there.”

“Which way were you thinking? Would you have worn it? Or…” Eddie is going out on a limb here; just because Steve has a pussy doesn’t mean he likes the idea of penetration, but Eddie has a hunch. “Or would it have been the other way around?”

A sharp breath escapes Steve’s chest. “Do you want that?” he asks, soft, almost hopeful.

Eddie strokes a thumb across his ribs. “Want what?”

“To fuck me.”

This time it’s Eddie who goes breathless. “Is that even a fucking question?” he demands, and then, in case he wasn’t clear, adds, “I would want very much to do that, yeah. If you want me to.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would,” Steve says. “I mean, I know you’re strictly into guys, and I don’t exactly have… a conventional dick.”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?” Eddie asks, eyeing Steve’s smirk.

“We’ll see,” Steve says, which likely means no.

“Fine. But Steve,” Eddie reaches up, cupping Steve’s face in his hands, “I am one hundred fucking percent into you. You are a guy. You are an incredibly hot guy whose pants I have been wanting to get into forever, no matter what you’ve got in there.”

Steve smiles, and Eddie caresses the corners of it with his thumbs.

“Well, you do seem to prefer the weirder shit, anyway,” Steve murmurs.

“Not weird. Different,” Eddie says, and Steve makes a face at him but readily allows him the kiss he presses in for after that.

“So have you…” Steve starts, once they’ve broken apart, “ever been with a guy with my, uh– sort of equipment?”

Eddie would make fun of how awkwardly the words had tumbled out if he hadn’t suddenly been feeling a bit awkward himself.

“Not, uh, exactly.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him and Eddie amends snappishly, “okay, fine, not at all, no.”

“But you’re open to it?” Steve checks, as if the way Eddie has pressed against him like a needy cat has left any room for doubt.

“More than open,” Eddie says. “I might just, y’know– need some direction? To start with?”

“Directions, huh?” Steve smirks. “I can work with that.”

Eddie has no doubt that he can – and that Eddie will enjoy every second of it.

[unknowntoyou2205]

Innocence meets trouble

Info: For some reason the new girl catches Riven’s attention, and it’s not just because she’s put in second year

Riven x reader

Riven jumped on Skys back as they walked through the entrance of the school building. It was the first day of second year and Riven had just caught Sky talking to a first year. The teasing had begun, and Sky could only roll his eyes at his roommate and best friend before they bumped into someone.

Y/n’s hands shook slightly as she carried her bags through the yard. Her first day at a new school and y/n knew that she would stand out. Having skipped a year already due to her advance in magic, Dowling had decided that she would be better off in a more advanced class, which didn’t sit well with y/n. She would already stand out due to her relation to Stella, cousins by marriage, but that would inevitably take a back seat when people found out about her skills. Not watching where she was going she ended up bumping into someone, knocking against a wall as a result.

-------

“I’m so sorry.” The blonde guy gasped, grabbing her arm to steady her.

“Watch where you’re going.” The raven haired beside him snapped.

“My fault, wasn’t watching where I was going.” Y/n stated, looking down at her bags now on the ground.

“First year?” The guy asked, hitting Riven’s arm.

“No second.” Y/n flinched, rubbing her shoulder.

“I don’t recall seeing you last year.” The Raven guy stated, narrowing his eyes at her.

“I’m new, first year here but second year of classes.” Y/n explained, not liking explaining herself.

“Well I’m Sky, this is Riven, Specialists, probably be in some of your classes.” The blonde haired introduced himself and his friend.

“Y/n, second year, fairy.” Y/n spoke, waving slightly at the end.

“Here, et us help you with these bags.” Sky suggested, holding an arm out to grab some of y/n’s bag.

“I’m out of here.” Riven stated, holding a peace sign as he started walking backwards.

“Riven.” Sky tutted at his friend.

“Seya later.” Riven stated, walking off, glancing back at y/n as he left.

“I’m sorry about him. He wasn’t like this last year.” Sky apologized, smiling at y/n as he grabbed her suitcase.

“It’s fine. And as opposed to these, I got it, thanks.” y/n smiled softly.

“I insist, the least I can do after bumping into you.” Sky stated, and y/n chuckled lightly before allowing Sky to lead the way.

Riven wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. For some reason he couldn’t stop staring at the new girl. He refused to acknowledge the newbies, but there was something about this girl that he could not shift, and currently, he was standing at the upper floor, looking across at where y/n was standing, watching the party down below.

Y/n stood at the corner, away from all the people that were walking along the halls, observing the scene down below. She wasn’t one for crowds, but she knew that if she didn’t turn up than she would draw more attention to herself than she cared for.

“You know you could just talk to her instead of stalking her.” Sky spoke, coming up from behind him.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” Riven spoke, taking a swig from his drink.

“Alright than.” Sky smirked before moving away from him.

--------------

“Staying away from the people, smart as a newbie.” A voice called to her, and y/n turned to see Sky walking towards her.

“I’m not one for crowds.” Y/n shrugged, crossing her arms.

“Funny, neither is Riven.” Sky smirked, pointing towards his friend that was looking over at them.

“I would of thought him the opposite.” Y/n remarked.

“He likes to portray that image, but trust me, he’s a softie at heart.” Sky smirked, winking at her.

Two weeks since her first day, y/n decided to walk the grounds on her free day to see what was around to do. She mostly kept to herself, having an error in the assigning of rooms lead to y/n having her own room, but she didn’t mind that. It made her days more calm, she wasn’t one for madness, and it helped with the questions. Which is why she would often walk the grounds on her own, walking down the path towards the specialist area.

Riven turned his attention to the girl in front of him. The two had rarely spoken since they bumped into each other the first day of term, but there was something about her that wouldn’t leave her mind. Deciding to ignore her, he took out his box of cigarettes and stood up. Y/n frowned at the box as he walked off.

“Hello stranger.” Sky called out to her as she walked by the bench area.

“Hey.” Y/n smiled , eyeing Riven as he sat beside his friend.

“What’s got you around this area?” Sky asked, and Riven looked up at the girl.

“Just walking around. Scouting out the area.” Y/n shrugged.

Y/n walked on further before seeing an outline of trees ahead of her. Looking around, she opted to leave the grounds and head into the hooded area. She knew it would be dark, but that meant that it would most likely be abandoned.

“I don’t see the hype of them.” Y/n stated.

“That’s because you’re a goody too shoes.” Riven stated, smirking at her as he walked off.

“Ignore him, he’s been acting like this since summer.” Sky stated.

“Gotcha.” Y/n nodded before walking off down the path.

Branches cracked under her feet as she made her way into the forest. Birds could be heard and the soft wind against leaves made her smile. She loved nature, which was probably why she gained the ability of earth and it’s elements. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t see the foot that was sprawled across her path, leading to her to trip and fall. She groaned and looked to the side before screaming at what she saw.

Riven glanced behind him only to take a double take before jumping away from his position in shock He grabbed y/n out of reflex before pushing her behind him as he screamed out for someone. It wasn’t long before Silva turned up and he crouched beside the mauled and obviously dead man that was leaning against a tree. He opted to send the students back and alert Dowling about their discovery, and Riven couldn’t help but throw a worried glance at the girl beside him.

“Geez, I’m not that bad looking.” Riven rolled his eyes at her reaction.

“Not you.” Y/n snapped, pointing behind him.

-----------------

Y/n sighed as she crossed her arms across her chest as she walked her way through the halls. Students looked her way before whispering to each other, and y/n knew what it was about. Word spreads fast around the school, and by now both students and teachers knew about y/n in the woods. The image from the woods had haunted her the night before, and she didn’t want to speak about the day. She wanted to forget it, however hard that would be.

Riven was leaning against a pillar outside, smoking a joint when he seen a certain h/c headed girl walk out from the school building, trying to avoid the crowds of students that were walking. Seeing her looking down at the ground, Riven opted to call the girl over and try to talk to her.

Riven nodded before moving away from the pillar and heading off to where Beatrix and Dane were standing, watching them talk. The trio that were known for mischief, and y/n only watched as he left, seeing as he placed an arm around Beatrix, looking over their shoulder as they walked away.

“Hey, y/n.” He called out, and y/n froze at the familiar voice. “Come here.” Riven finished, and y/n looked at him, unsure.

“Yes?” She asked, unsure of what the boy would want.

“You okay?” He asked, showing small hint of concern.

“Why do you care?” She asked, frowning at him.

“Yesterday was freaky, I know I seen it.” Riven shrugged.

“Yeah well you use a joint to help, I don’t.” Y/n narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why are you so hostile, I am only asking if you’re okay.” Riven stated, placing his hands up in mock surrender.

“Sorry.” Y/n muttered, looking away from him.

“Want one?” Riven asked, offering his joint to her.

“I’m good.” Y/n scrunched her nose at the strong smell.

“Look seriously, if you want to talk, I’m here.” Riven stated, looking down in confusion as to why he just said that.

“Thanks, I guess.” Y/n squinted at him, unsure how to respond.

--------

The following days, Y/n spent most her time in her dorm, avoiding being seen as much as possible. Riven had grown worried for the girl, and would find himself staring at the back of her head when they were in class together. He had left the relationship he had with Beatrix and Dane, so he had grown to find his feelings for the girl had changed. The two often caught eyes with each other and a short smile would be exchanged. Small conversations would be exchanged, and y/n would still grimace at him when she would see him smoking or up to mischief which would lead to him smirking at her with that boyish smile.

As teacher brought the class to a close, Riven watched as y/n packed her bag and quickly left before the other students left for the day. Y/n threw her bag over her shoulder as she left, and Riven noticed her phone slide out of her jean pocket, landing on the floor. Seeing that y/n clearly hadn’t noticed the loss, Riven moved forward and grabbed the phone off the floor before rushing after.

She glanced up at them as their hands brushed together briefly. Riven raised an eyebrow at her as he felt a tingle as she moved away from him. Y/n only smiled at him before moving away from him. The two held contact with each other before y/n blinked, looking down to break it. Riven cleared his throat and smiled, waking backwards before finally turning.

“Hey, /n, wait up.” Riven shouted at her, waving her phone at her.

“Hey Riven.” Y/n smiled weakly at him, and Riven could see that she was tired.

“You dropped this.” He stated, holding the phone out to her.

“Oh, thanks.” Y/n nodded at him, taking her phone from him.

Riven looked down for a minute, thinking before deciding to try and catch up to y/n. He watched ahead, bumping into students as y/n turned the corner. Cursing to himself, Riven moved quicker, not taking a second glance at those who shouted at him as he moved quickly to get to her, when often he would glare at them. Y/n turned off to a quiet corridor, and Riven stopped at the turn to see y/n struggling with her key. Riven looked back as two girls came whispering to each other as they opened their dorm and walked in, both looking at Riven and y/n before the door closed. Riven coughed slightly, and y/n looked over her shoulder at him before finally getting the door open.

“Riven?” Y/n called.

“Yea?” The rave haired boy turned around.

“No, it’s okay.” Y/n shook his head, cursing herself for calling him.

“Y/n?” Riven asked, walking back to him.

“It’s nothing.” Y/n shook her head again, walking away from Riven.

Riven looked at y/n and moved closer to her. Y/n watched Rivens shadow as it creeped towards her.Feeling a hand being placed on her arm, y/ looked at it before looking up at Riven. She flicked her hair back and smiled up at the boy and he sighed, unsure if he should be doing this.

“Y/n,” Riven started, only to stop himself.

“You followed me?” Y/n asked, narrowing her eys at him from her door.

“I’m confused by something, I’m not sure how to act.” Riven shrugged, not looking away from her.

“Confused about what?” Y/n asked, looking at Riven intrigued by what he wanted to say.

"You, me, I dunno?" Riven stated, shrugging.

"Well maybe say it and it might be helpful." Y/n shrugged, trying to be helpful.

"There's something about you, that, won't leave me. I find myself enjoying our short chats. Brief as they are." Riven started, and y/n looked down as she blushed.

"Riven."

Y/n could only close her eyes as she allowed Riven to move closer to her. Her breath caught in her chest as there lips met, and she melted under Riven’s touch. The kiss was brief and when they pulled away, y/n looked up at Riven in shock

“We are two completely different people.” Y/n commented.

“Sometimes opposites attract.” Riven stated before leaning in.

“What does this mean?” Y/n asked, squinting up at him gently.

“I dunno, we’ll see where this goes.” Riven shrugged, before smiling softly at her.

“I’d ike that.” Y/n smiled, before leaning her head on his chest.