#everything you've been told about Commander is wrong

[roguedeck]

NOPE! You don't need that much (or any) ramp

Tell me if you've heard this one before:

You should have at least 10 pieces of ramp in all your commander decks.

Welp, everything you've been told about commander is wrong.

Wait! What?!?

If you pay attention to any of the top Commander content creators, one of the first pieces of advice you'll hear is to make sure you have plenty of ramp in your deck. There are a couple corollaries as well:

2-mana ramp has pushed 3-mana ramp out of the format

You should play at least 10 pieces of ramp in your deck

So why has this become such common knowledge?

First off, it really sucks to be mana screwed. There is nothing worse in a game of EDH than watching everyone around you get to play super fun, splashy cards while you're sitting on three lands.

Second, EDH is a game of massive, splashy effects. Our decks are often filled with 4-6 drops. It's not uncommon to even see 7+ mana value cards in decks - and often these are the most fun.

Finally, effective decks will often want to play multiple, high-impact cards in a turn.

So, it just comes to reason that adding cards that both ensure you get to play the game, and you get to play the expensive, fun cards is something you should do. Right?

Not so fast my friend.

Over-indexing on ramp is a fallacy that leads to bad deckbuilding.

Before we begin, let's agree to the previous points: 1. It is better to have plenty of mana to operate your deck; 2. EDH decks, on average, need to hit higher mana values per turn than your average 60-card deck; and 3. Making multiple plays in a turn is often correct.

But these aren't the only considerations for deck building and game play. And importantly, you don't win the game for having the most mana.

Advancing your game state is important.

Building advantage engines is important.

Ensuring you have cards and effective play into the late game is important.

If you're ignoring these pieces of the game during the first three turns just so you can ramp, you better have a darn good reason to do so.

This is especially true because of the pace and length of a commander game. Because of the typical game's scope, there are two potentials that can erase all of your effort if you spent your first three turns only ramping:

Your mana rocks and elves can get wiped from the board. This is true for all permanent types, but if you've drawn two cards from your Mulldrifter or gotten a massive trigger from Silent-Blade Oni, you've still progressed your actual game plan.

You can miss a land drop and completely negate the benefit of ramping. It's nice to be at 4-mana on turn three, but if you miss a drop-you are still at 5 mana on turn five.

Here's the Truth: Card Draw is Better than Ramp

Way back in the day, Magic Hall of Famer Alan Comer broke people's brains by inventing on of the four most influential Magic decks of all time - Turbo Xerox (which then transformed into the Miracle Grow and Super Grow archetypes that essentially inform all Brainstorm-based aggro decks in Legacy).

The key innovation of the Grow decks is that a deck can actually run fewer lands, as long as they have enough cheap card draw and deck manipulation.

I'm not sure this was technically true, but the old heuristic was that you could cut 1 land for every four cantrips in your deck. This led to Comer's absolutely bonkers 10-land Quirion Dryad deck.

The secret is that with enough card draw in your deck, you are able to both ensure you consistently hit enough land drops for your deck to operate AND you have enough gas to make impactful plays. And very importantly, you don't find yourself top-decking junk in the late game.

Now, I don't advocate running an irresponsible number of lands in your deck (36-38 is probably in the wheelhouse), but recently, in most of my decks I've been running significantly higher amounts of card draw than ramp.

This is especially true these days. The prevalence of treasure makes ramp even less necessary. It seems like every color these days has an easy way to make incidental treasures. These little guys help keep your on curve if your draw stumbles, and they help fix your mana. You don't need to play a turn two signet if you just end up with a random treasure on two or three.

Different Archetypes Demand Different Answers

What's important to understand is that even in Commander, there are different deck archetypes.

Some decks want to play an aggressive game, playing high-impact spells quickly to gain an advantage before everyone has had the chance to set up. These decks don't want to waste their early turns ramping.

Some (possibly most) decks want to play a mid-range interactive value game. They want to build an engine based on synergies and incremental advantages that allow them to get into the mid-game. These decks should really be playing value pieces in the early game and not ramp.

Other decks want to control the game until they win through inevitability or by finding their combo pieces. With 40 life and three opponents, these decks have the time to set up their massive end game. They should be drawing cards to make sure they get there instead of ramping.

On the other hand, there are some decks who want to dominate by playing massive effects in front of the curve. Some of these are reanimator decks that can cheat your Kokushos and Primordials in early. Others are stompy decks that want to jump the curve to play Avengers of Zendikar and Apex Devastators early. it's really only these last decks that need significant ramp.

The New Rules

One of the things I learned playing Netrunner was the importance of mixing your drip and burst economy. You need a good combination of quick resources that let you get up and running, but also a steady flow that keeps your engine going throughout the game.

The same is true for card draw in EDH.

It's important that you can build engines to provide a steady flow of cards throughout the game (drip). Many players have an inherent knack for this. We see how powerful cards like Rhystic Study and Phyrexian Arena are. But these cards are often too slow to be the ramp replacements we're looking for.

Instead, we need cheap, effective, and flexible card draw. So what, specifically should we be looking for:

1-mana cantrips are fine, but they don't actually serve as card draw.

2-mana spells that draw 2 cards are insane - even if they have a drawback.

Getting a cantrip/card draw off a two mana creature is excellent.

3-mana spells need to draw at least two cards with a bonus if they are sorecery speed. Instant-speed 3s that draw at least two cards are much better.

You can, and should, play card draw spells that cost 4+, but those are for fueling your late game, not smoothing out your early turns.

Luckily, there are tons of great cards that fit into this mold. And I think people are really coming around on some of them. Here are my favorites:

Night's Whisper

Sign in Blood

Deep Analysis

Predict

Demon's Due

Thirst for Discovery

Tome of Legends

Chart a Course

Spirited Companion

Humble Defector

Scarscale Ritual

Words of Wisdom

Question Convention

I'm not sure I completely agree that the format is speeding up all that much. I do see that decks are being built in a more coherent way - with more impactful and interesting things happening earlier.

Taking full turns off to play a ramp spell shouldn't be the default. Instead make sure your deck is chocked full of efficient card draw spells. Your games will be smoother from start to finish, and you'll be making impactful and interesting plays until the very end.

[ddejavvu]

imagine reader always trying to make hotch flustered for the fun of it and then one day she is losing a lot of blood and hotch asks her what her type is and she answers with "you" nsjsja (also pre relationship)

(also also I loveeee everything you write for hotch it's always so good !!! and I actually cannot get enough🤭)

MWAH thank you!!! you're so sweet <3

--

You've been told that your comedic side comes out at the wrong times. You're a natural tease, your tongue moving faster than your head to razz whoever you're speaking to. Typically, it all blends together; it's just normal. But with Hotch? He's different.

He's different because he tries not to laugh at your jokes. He tries to keep his composure, thinks that maybe if he just ties his tie tighter that morning, it'll hold his face in a frown and a smile won't be able to escape. No matter how hard he tries to resist amusement, though, you know he feels it.

Perhaps that's why you're so harsh on him. Why you steal a seat next to him on the jet just to peer over his shoulder, asking if he's texting a hot date. Why you knock feet with him under the table, gasping dramatically and asking him if he's trying to play footsie with you. He acts tired of it, sighs and scoffs and grumbles but his cheeks go red every time, and you take it as a win.

What's less of a win is the bullet in your shoulder. It's hard to think about much else now, just the searing pain above your arm that makes you want to chop the limb off completely.

Your knees give out and you crumple to the concrete beneath you while your team moves in. Derek handles the arrest, JJ and Reid keep their weapons trained on the unsub just in case, and Hotch darts to your side.

"Hey," He huffs, tugging your knees out from under you so that you're sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall behind you, "Hey, keep your eyes open, okay? We can fix this, this isn't-" He presses his hand into your wound and you wince, "This isn't as bad as it could be."

"Yeah," You rasp, peering down at your red-stained shirt, "'Coulda been wearing my favorite top."

"Head back," Hotch commands, pointedly ignoring your attempt at a joke, "You're loosing blood fast. What's your type?"

Your head feels fuzzy, but you're not far gone enough to miss that opportunity. You muster a sleazy smile, blinking hazily at him, "Mm, you, boss."

"Shut-!" Hotch scoffs, almost a snort, scrunching his face in a poorly-withheld grin and knocking it against your good shoulder. He takes a moment to laugh, and you're sure the adrenaline coursing through his veins is the only reason you're getting such an open reaction from him.

"Shut up," He musters, a weak smile on his face as he lifts his head again, maintaining steady pressure on your wound, "You can't take anything seriously. You just got shot."

"With Cupid's arrow," You gush, and if you had the strength to lift your arm, you'd cup Aaron's cheek, "Thank you for saving me my sweet prince."

"Don't ever call me that again," Hotch lets out a sound that's somewhere between a groan and a laugh, "Careful, L/N, the medics aren't here yet. If you keep teasing me I might take you down."

"Do it!" You beg, your own laugh wheezy and weak as you manage to grab hold of his tie, "Please, sir, take me!"

[torasplanet]

❝𝘼𝙉𝙔𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐.ᐟ❞

KANTO!M. SANO + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you've noticed mikey's been in such a bad mood lately and decide to give him a little gift to cheer him up!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; smut, fluff-ish?, couch sex, riding, thigh riding, lingere, praise, body worship, mikey's actually a sweetheart, bf!mikey, pretty vanilla, petnames (baby, pretty, etc), unprotected (wrap that shit or gtfo) and skin color not mentioned

Mikey had been in the worst mood ever lately.

He’s been sulking around the apartment, the frown on his face deeper than usual, not bothering to take his shoes off when going to bed leaving you to take them off in his sleep. You didn’t mind. You liked to take care of Mikey because you knew how much he needed it but it seemed like lately, he needed it more often.

You didn’t know what was wrong, and he didn’t tell you either but you really wanted to know and help him. Making him his favorite dinner didn’t work, he still seemed sad after thanking you with a kiss. Buying him things didn’t work because he asked you to return them because ‘he should be buying you things’. Even when he took it, he still didn’t look happy aside from flashing you a little smile as a thanks. Mikey was in the worst mood and wasn’t telling you anything about it! If you didn’t know anything, how were you supposed to help him? You wished he didn’t have a problem with sharing feelings.

Mikey didn’t care about telling people how he felt. That was easy, he just didn’t want to do it with certain people, not after everything that’s happened over the years. He didn’t want to do it with you either; mainly because he didn’t want to worry you. You always got so worried about Mikey even at the littlest things such as him leaving his shoes on when going to bed and he didn’t want to worry you even more with his other problems. Mikey felt lucky that you even cared enough to take his boots off in his sleep. Worrying you was the one thing Mikey didn’t want but you cared too much about him for that to be prevented.

You really did care a lot about Mikey so when the idea of giving him the perfect gift that would for sure cheer him up came to you, of course, you didn’t hesitate to do it. But not hesitating also means not thinking and you did not think about how Mikey was in the middle of a meeting right now on your way here. The memory of him telling you that after kissing you goodbye at the door had just hit as you stood in front of the door that held the meeting.

Holding a convenience store bag in your hands full of Mikey’s favorite snacks while staring at the door wondering if you should knock or just stand there until it was wrapped up. Maybe just knocking to make Mikey aware of your presence so no one hit you in your fucking face on their way out of the room was the best idea.

Bringing one of your hands up, you knocked against the rough mahogany door lightly but the sound of faint chatter stopping in the room told you that they heard it. The door creaked open soon after just allowing you a small peak in the room but Koko’s face was blocking it. His expression relaxed when he saw it was you and he opened the door completely allowing everyone in the room to see your figure.

You made eye contact with Mikey who seemed as though he was shocked that you were here and then you looked around the room at the others there, the Haitanis, Shion, Hanma, y’know the usuals. “Sorry, this is a bad time…” You muttered looking at your boyfriend again before beginning to back away from the door but he stopped you.

“No, sit.” You looked around awkwardly because of his command but obliged and made your way through the room keeping your eyes on the blonde instead of focusing on the eyes that followed you. Mikey lifted his arm and rested on the back of the couch telling you where to sit “Keep going.” Mikey spoke to the others in the room once you sat down on the couch next to him leaning against his side.

His arm found its place on your shoulder with his hand soothingly running up and down your arm. You felt extremely out of place in this room. Sanzu, Hanma, and the Haitani Brothers were all in this room and they’d done some crazy shit and here you were just sitting here happily with your gang leader's boyfriend. It was nerve-racking but you relaxed into your lover’s touch closing your eyes to ignore everyone in the room other than him.

You could still hear their conversation but when your mind slipped into a peaceful sleep, you couldn’t hear it anymore. Mikey noticed maybe ten minutes into your slumber that you were asleep and held you even closer. 

His attention from the meeting often shifted to you to make sure you were still breathing and just to gaze at you. You were so cute when slept and it hurt Mikey just a bit when he had to wake you up after the meeting had finished and everyone piled out of the room like rats scurrying to cheese by Mikey’s command.

“Baby, wake up.” Mikey muttered gently tapping the side of your face as you stirred into him. Your relaxed face scrunching up into a frown before your eyes fluttered open and you remembered who you were with and a smile grew on your face. “Hi.” You sat up as Mikey flashed you a small smile before looking away “Sorry I ate all the snacks through the meeting.” He apologized holding up the plastic bag that was deflated with the lack of snacks filling it.

Your brows furrowed as you stood to your feet “Mikey! Some was for me too.” You exclaimed watching as the long-haired male wiped his mouth of the leftovers from the snacks. He sat up in his seat before reaching over and placing his hands on your hips “Sorry. Did I ruin your surprise?” Mikey asked as he dragged you closer forcing you down on his lap. Your sour expression was quickly replaced with a confused look at his words.

“How did you know it was a surprise?”

“You never come all the way here unless you wanna give me something and it can’t wait.” 

That was true. Mikey didn’t like you being here when the other Kanto members were. You never questioned it but he just didn’t like it and you sort of knew why, not that it mattered much because you came here anyway evident from your presence in this room. Giving Mikey this surprise here was the perfect plan because he’d never expect it; mainly because you two have never had sex in this room before.

Your body burned up at the thought and you tilted forward burying your face into the crook of his neck “Well that wasn’t the surprise.” Mikey looked down at you his hand going to the small of your back at your words wanting to hear more. He backed his neck away forcing you to sit up on your own so he could hear and see you. You got embarrassed and avoided eye contact as your hands made their way down to the hem of the skirt you wore.

You slowly lifted the skirt making the white lace panties you wore visible to Mikey and his face brightened up at this clearly happy. He recognized this pair, you had a matching bra and it was a lingerie set that you had modeled for him after one of your shopping hauls and it ended up with you two making a mess all over the mattress. Mikey loved it, it was his favorite actually and that’s why you wore it.

His dark eyes fluttered up to you without his head tilting up. His silence was scaring you because you didn’t know what he was thinking about doing with you but it made you a good kind of scared. Anything that he did would be a surprise and the unknown action was giving you a rush before it even happened.

His hand that was on your back made its way to the front and up your shirt “Got the bra on too?” The blonde asked pushing your shirt up with the movement of his hand until he made it to your bra groping it a bit as you hummed while nodding. He raised the shirt completely and saw the matching white lacey bra and a smile crawled up onto his pink lips. His hands grabbed your waist as his face came close to yours after tilting his head up finally.

His breath was on your lips as he just stared at you happily taking in your embarrassed face “You walked all the way here in this…just to surprise me?” Mikey asked his lips nearly connecting with yours but you remained calm (as calm as you could be) and nodded “You’ve been sad a lot recently…I wanted to make you happy.” You replied and a chuckle came from your boyfriend as one of his hands came up to the nape of your neck, his fingers dragging lazily up your spine as he did so giving you chills.

“Don’t you say I look sad all the time?” He asked “Yeah but now you look sadder!” You shouted placing your hands on his shoulders and his grin extended nearly stretching from ear to ear “I’d do anything for you Mikey, I just wanna make you happy.” You spoke in a much calmer tone as you smiled a bit at him. Oh, how Mikey loved you. You had such a strong desire to please him and make sure that he was smiling at all times. Making him dinner, turning the shower on for him, bringing him snacks, getting all dressed up for him…you were so wonderful and he never understood how he got someone like you.

Someone willing to care for him and deal with all the shit he had even when he pushed them away. Mikey really didn’t deserve you…that’s what he thought at least. “I don’t deserve you, pretty.” He connected the two of you. His tongue wandered around your mouth trying to fight yours and of course, he won.

The kiss was sloppy and rushed as if you two only had a small amount of time. Mikey’s hands wandered all over your body during the kiss, flipping up your skirt, rubbing at your torso, groping your tits and butt, and even sneaking his hands down your panties but not to your cunt. His fingers just barely dangled past the waistband teasing you by pulling it back just a bit away from your skin and letting it slap back.

You began to take your shirt off still kissing but when you went to slide the skirt off, Mikey stopped you. “Keep it on.” He muttered breaking the kiss a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips, breaking when he leaned back against the couch staring at you half-naked breathing heavily on his lap. As your fingers inched to his belt, his voice stopped you once again “I want you to ride my thigh first.” He wanted you to what first?

You weren’t exactly complaining but you didn’t want his thigh, you wanted him inside of you. “But–” “It’s my gift, right? I get to choose how I use it.” Mikey interrupted you quickly and when you went to say something more, he shut you up with a light slap to your cunt only getting a mewl out of you “Don’t worry okay? I’ll give it to you when you’re done.” Mikey said spreading his legs making you choose one of his thighs to settle on. When you nodded in agreement, his hands went back to your hips ready to support you when you got ready to start moving.

You put your hands on the space of his thigh that you were sitting on and began to grind your hips onto the fabric of his pants gasping at the light friction. You tried to keep quiet as best as you could because you didn’t know if there was anyone else still in the building who could hear you outside of the room “Why are you being so quiet? I wanna hear my baby.” Mikey cooed leaning forward to press a soft peck to your lips before falling back onto the sofa.

When he jerked his leg up into your pussy, you let out a yelp that was louder than you expected it to be. You had the urge to send your palms to your mouth to hide your moans but Mikey’d just remove them. He was serious when he said that he wanted to hear you.

“S-Sorry…” You murmured as you continued your pace of grinding against his leg letting out soft moans from your lips. Your cunt squeezed around nothing as you continued to create friction between your legs a bit embarrassed that the feeling of Mikey staring at you hadn’t left yet but you continued.

The lacy fabric rubbing against your clit made you mewl “Feel good huh?” You nodded at his question as your hips began to move faster and harder. You threw your head back as your cunt pulsed just wanting something to fill you up to the brim, just wanting Mikey to fill you to the brim. More than anything, that’s what you wanted from him. But he was right, you were his gift after all.

Mikey’s thumb drew circles on your hip noticing how you weren’t satisfying yourself just on his thigh. He saw it in your face. That pretty face that he loved to gaze at soooo much, your lips parted open dribbling out sobs of his name “Need help? Want me to touch you, pretty?” Mikey asked softly his hand inching below the skirt fabric just waiting for your approval. Fingers hovering over your clothed clit.

You nodded letting out a little uh huh!’s practically bucking your hips into his hand “Please touch me, Mikey!” His dick was rock hard in his pants at your words but he began working his fingers on your clit ignoring the pleasurable feeling of his tip dragging across the fabric of his boxers. He wanted to watch you make a mess all over him first but with how you were looking and moaning his name, he didn’t think he’d last until then.

“Oh my–I love you so much, Mikey…feels so…” You moaned barely able to speak from the overwhelming pleasure that felt like fireworks going off in your stomach. Leaning forward, you placed your forehead on his shoulder continuing to fuck yourself on his thigh now with his fingers assisting by rubbing figure 8’s on your bundle of nerves. Your panties were drenched and sticking to you, your slick probably leaking onto his leg leaving a wet patch on his pants.

Mikey felt dizzy. His mind only circulates you and how good you fucking looked right now. He wanted to be buried inside of you so badly right now, his tip hitting that little spongy spot inside of you that would make you shout his name so fucking loudly. He needed that. Right fucking now.

His fingers stopped their movement and both of his hands went to undo his belt “Mikey…” You whined, “C’mon pretty, can’t wait anymore.” Mikey said sliding his boxers and pants down just enough to free his cock from their confinements. His face was almost as red as his tip showing how horny he was.

You wasted no time crawling back on his lap and sliding your panties to the side shivering at the cold air hitting your pussy but the feeling was soothed when you lowered yourself onto Mikey’s dick taking inch by inch. His fat cock stretched your walls out as he bottomed out groaning at the feeling of your warmth tightening around him “So fucking tight.” Mikey muttered, his hands gripping your hips harsher as you backed away from his shoulder.

“Can I move? Please, please…” You requested desperately and with one nod coming from your boyfriend, you began to grind like you did on his thigh but it felt so much better now that he was filling you up. Mikey let his head go back groaning from how good it felt but it wasn’t enough. His grip on your waist got harder as he raised you just his tip still inside of you before slamming you right back down “Ah! Mikey!” You screeched at his mushroom tip hitting your cervix but Mikey paid you no mind only muttering out soft apologies that were meaningless.

You slowly began to bounce on his cock groaning at how he shuffled in his seat angling his hips so that he hit your g-spot “I love you, baby, makin’ me feel so fucking good.” Mikey muttered bringing his head to your neck to litter kisses all over your neck and color it a deep purple. His lips were brought down to the top of your tits putting hickeys all over there. An extreme difference from the white color that was tight around your tits. He just wanted to spurt his cum all over that lace. Barely able to tell the difference between the colors.

“Fuck…” You whined barely able to talk from how good it felt. Your back arched, hands going to his back and grabbing at his shirt balling up the fabric in your palms. You were so close, just a bit more and you’d cum with him. You felt him twitch inside you warning his orgasm.

Mikey gently moved down your bra allowing your tit to slide out so he could suckle at your nipple “You’re so pretty…love you so much.” Mikey said into your skin stammering over his words just a tad bit. His hands roamed around your body once again. Mikey loved to touch you. He loved your body, the way your skin felt, how you shivered under his touch because of his cold hands, the way you arched into him because his fingers grazed over your nipples.

Your body was so beautiful to him and being able to touch it was enough for him to cum on the spot “Gonna cum?” Mikey asked with a sweet voice and you nodded violently as you continued to bounce on his cock, skin slapping echoing throughout the large room “Yeah? Cum with me.” Mikey said delivering a harsh slap to your ass. That was leaving a mark.

You clawed at the back of his shirt yelling as you came all over his dick and as soon as you did that, mikey lifted you and came all on your stomach and chest. His ropes of cum landing on the white lace, the fabric of your skirt and all over your bare tummy that would’ve been full of that liquid if he didn’t have the strength to pull out.

His eyes wandered over your body admiring his work on the beautiful canvas that was your body. Once so bare, naked, nothing on it and was painted with the white that was almost an identical color to the white that wrapped around your tits and pussy.

“Such a beauitful mess.”

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[xoxosimp]

Element of Surprise

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Synopsis: After everything that went wrong today, there is no way Bucky is proposing…. Right?

Warnings: fluff, feels, reader is implied to have curly hair, soft bucky is a warning, no description of body parts but reader is called beautiful, and referred to as a wife

A/N: this is part two of this fic. Beta read by @h4miltonsbabe , but all mistakes are my own. 

~~~~~~~~~

It was always interesting seeing Bucky mad. He never really showed anger towards you, not you two didn't go without any fights, but he always kept his composure . Bucky rarely raised his voice at you, not that you've haven’t overheard him yelling at his “business associates” over the phone. He never raised a hand to you, even though he’s come home to you with bruised knuckles. 

But this particular mad: his jaw was clenched, the hand that rested on his thigh held the fabric of the couch in his fist .Usually when you’re cuddling up to him, all the tension in his body would evaporate. Not this time. 

Your day with Bucky wasn’t great.

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong today, went wrong. Bucky’s been planning your anniversary for months. All he needed from you was to show up and look beautiful, as you always do. 

What he didn't need was for the weather channel to be wrong, ruining your blowout with the rain. Your curls reverted back to their natural state, running two hours of blow drying and fussing with your hair. Bucky thought you still looked beautiful. 

What he didn't need was for the florist to be out of your favorite flowers and your favorite bagel spot ( which is in another city) to be closed the day of your anniversary. And that set the theme  for the entire day.

What he did not need was your favorite restaurant to double-book your table on the rooftop. When the hostess told him they had accidentally double-booked, Bucky looked like he wanted to explode. Honestly, he did.

“I need to speak to your manager,” he huffed. The poor hostess scrambled away like a mouse, leaving your boyfriend fuming. 

Part of you thinks he’s going a little overboard, considering this was a mistake you could easily made yourself. But you know he wanted today to be perfect for you. That's how he wants everything to be for you.

“Bucky,” you grabbed his shoulder so he could face you, “ Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Light-”

“It was an innocent mistake, Jamie. Imagine if I was the hostess and some rich, billionaire loser had nothing better to do than yell at me?”, you stated, knowing you had him there.

Bucky cracked a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, “Are you calling me a loser, light?”

“You are a loser if you berate that poor hostess even more! Besides, if you take someone else’s table you could ruin their anniversary.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, “ What do you wanna do then, light?”, deep down he felt guilty, knowing he had unleashed his anger about not this particular mistake, but of all of today’s mishaps on the poor hostess. 

“Go somewhere else,” you smiled. “There are hundreds of restaurants in New York, I’m sure one of them has an open table.” 

After the manager profusely apologized for the error, Bucky slipped a hundred-dollar bill to the hostess and grumbled, “Don’t let it happen again.” 

Usually all it took was a snap of his fingers and his command and anything Bucky wanted was his (and by proxy, you). But even criminal kingpin’s are victims of circumstance, sometimes. 

You turned to look at Bucky and pinched his cheek. “ Is something wrong, Bucky?”

He shrugged, Bucky’s eyes not leaving the movie playing in front of him. He’s pouting.

“ I had a great day,” you pondered, “ I had a burger from Margarita’s and….” 

“It was supposed to be perfect!,” he said, slightly raising his voice. “ All of fucking days there are suddenly no more flowers or-”

“Jamie,” you touched his chest, snapping him out of his rage. “It’s not a big deal,” you giggled.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “You think this is funny, light?” 

“I know today didn’t go according to plan, but I’m just happy that we spent the day together. I mean, thanks to the heavens, my boss let me have a day off.”

If he hadn’t, Bucky would have ‘suggested’ to him to let you have the day off. .

“Even though I didn't get any flowers, any bagels, or dinner on a rooftop, I think I’d rather have none of that than my hair getting ruined. It took me two hours to blow dry my hair!”

Bucky let out a chuckle. “I just wanted it to be perfect,” he reiterated somberly. 

“It was perfect.” You know Bucky would move mountains to make you happy. Today proved that very fact. “ But I got to spend the day with you. How can I be sad about that?”

Damn, could you be any more perfect? Everything went to shit, yet you still look at him like he handed you the moon on a silver platter.

“I’m gonna’ get water,” you stood up from the couch and walked to the kitchen.

“It’s actually kinda funny how everything went south today,” you shouted, grabbing a bottle of water from the shelf. 

“How’s that, light?”

“Because I thought you were going to propose.” Bucky stayed quiet. 

“I mean, hello, you told me to do my hair, do my nails, you told me to dress up really nice,” you rambled, “when you tell someone to get all dolled up and you have an extravagant day planned, it’s a classic sign that you’re proposing.”

You plopped next to Bucky, “ Which means you don't have the element of s-” You looked at him, holding a ring box with a beautiful princess cut diamond with a solitaire gold band in the middle. Were your hands sweaty or was that the condensation from the water bottle? 

Bucky adjusted himself so he can face you with a soft smile on his lips. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. “ I can’t imagine waking up everyday and not having you by my side. You’re the light of my life. You make every one of my dark days better with your presence. I want to be there with you when you have your good, bad, and dark days.”

Bucky thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. If it did, he would hand it to you. “Will you marry me?”

Tears were flowing down your face like a waterfall. You wanted to break out into song and dance, jump off of a building without any fear, you wanted this. You wanted him.

You nodded, swiping your tears, “ Yes! I’ll marry you!”  You smashed your lips on top of his, as if not another moment could be wasted. Bucky kissed you back with just as much vigor, but pulled away. “ Let me put the ring on you, Light!” he exclaimed.

He took the ring out of the box and slid it onto your ring finger. It was a perfect fit. “ I can’t wait to marry you, Jamie.”

“ I can’t wait till you’re my wife, light.” 

[melodic-haze]

OMG FUCKING AYAKA ABSOLUTELY SENSELESS WITH A STRAP GOT ME LIKE UGHMSGGHRKLSH LIKE IMAGINE EDGING HER MULTIPLE TIMES, SHE WAS BEING SUCH A GOOD GIRL, YET YOU DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT IT AND JUST BE CRUEL TO HER LIKE AGHDSFKKHSJGRHG AGHHHHHH (I am sane)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Ayaka x dom!afab!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader has a strap, rough sex stuff, BDSM mention ig?

☆ — NOTES: Dude what if I combusted on the spot HELLOOOOOOO GOD I NEED HER (I'm not sane)

I need her to go mental PLEASE

I love the thought that Ayaka's canonically really REALLY pretty but at the same time I KNOW I'd hate it cuz of how she DEFINITELY gets hit on like a lot

She wouldn't be all that clueless of her beauty's reputation but like.......at the same time she kinda is, with the way that she kinda dismisses the attention as basically awe and reverence bc yk. She's in the Yashiro Commission

The attention just. Irks you One Too Many Times 🫶 and it doesn't help her case that she looks soooo utterly delicious, crying bc of you, so you do something about that!!!!!!

Ayaka doesn't know what she's done wrong.

She had sworn she's been behaving like a good girl for you, obeying your every command and being at your beck and call (minus when she's at work for her family's commission, you're not unreasonable), yet she was still faced with such a predicament.

Inazuma's cute little princess was clueless—was it something she said? Or maybe something she had done unconsciously to prompt you to essentially raise torturous hell on her?

She could try to rack her brains, and by archons she did try at first, and yet the only thing that she could even think of at the moment was the severe desperation for release.

The woman could see your borderline sadistic grin grow further as tears streamed down her face, cheeks almost as wet as her gushing pussy that has been mercilessly edged for.. who knows how long, by this point.

"'m sorry," she hiccuped, resisting the urge to buck her hips into your strap because despite everything, she was still your good girl, "I'm so-- mnf, sorryyy-- AH!"

You slapped her ass, pale skin already so red from the previous impacts it's had, before squeezing it roughly as you spoke, "Saying sorry and you don't even know what you're apologising for..."

"B-But I've done everything you asked of me, I--"

"Are you talking back?"

Her mouth clamps shut.

"I said--" and you grab a fistful of her hair to pull her up to your level, your hips moving as if punctuating every pause you make, "--are you.. talking.. back?"

She lets out those pathetic little whimpers of hers as she feels the tip of your faux cock bottom out inside of her in quick, deep thrusts, "I'm sss-- sorry I talked back please--"

"Please what?"

"I need to feel you move please I've been such a good g-- GIRL-- oohhhthankyouthankyou thankyou--"

You had relented to her wishes with an eyeroll, your hips practically slamming into hers as you pulled on her hair as a way to keep her upright. That along with the pain from having her hair pulled in the first place and all that pent-up lust from not being allowed that sweet release had easily helped escalate that impending high.

Ayaka knew that such a state of undress, such an expression on her face, was unbecoming of the graceful White Heron Princess but at this point? The only thing she was concerned about was being your princess, along with what she had been chasing this entire--

She doesn't register it immediately, but when she notices that you've deliberately slipped out of her cunt--

"Funny, how the Kamisato clan's very princess whines like a pathetic bitch."

Another climax absolutely ruined by you, yet she still doesn't know what she did wrong.

But she won't fight back, she won't ever fight back. She was your good girl, and good girls don't only do what they're told.

They take what they're given too, no matter what.

I don't even have much to say after writing that I'm ngl

Just that she's definitely a bit of a masochist lol

God she would just be SO FUN to toy with no matter how hard or soft you go just saying 😜😜😜😜 who knew such a reserved girl was a whore all along

There's a saying for this somewhere you all know what it is guys

Anyway enjoy 🫶

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Can you open up the door?

A/n: she takes you to her home, lovingly sheltering you from the heavy downpour so rare in LA. Takes you, and it seems, your love and all the inner contradictions along with fears caused by the public.

Inspired by the atmosphere of "CHIHIRO".

You know perfectly well that arguing with Eilish's decisions is a losing proposition, not in all cases, but in the vast majority of them. Your clothes are soaked to the skin, and the wind, though not quite cold but assertive, hints that all this will leave a mark on your immunity in the near future. Only as long as you can hear her voice on the other line, you don't care at all, frankly. You clench your chilled fingers a little tighter and hold the phone closer to your ear, because the rain noise makes it hard to hear her.

"You don't even know where I am right now."

"I know and I'm on my way to Amir's Garden to pick you up," she says uncompromisingly, and you realize Billie is really serious when you hear the click of a seatbelt and the noise of an engine in the background. Fucking hell! A puzzle quickly forms in your head: surely Finneas must have told her everything, knowing your plans. You think, you're need to talk a little less about yourself.

"Wow, what a commanding tone, Ms. O'Connell," - your pathetic attempt at defensive irony is immediately shot down by her chuckle, but you don't want to end this game. - "Do you like to lead?"

"Do you still doubt it?" - the slight hoarseness in her voice awakens a short-term flash of current in the back of your head, dispersing a pack of goosebumps on your hands and speeding up your heartbeat. You almost exhale deeply into the tube, but you pulls yourself back in time - it's too ambiguous a gesture, she shouldn't know. Not now. There is a slight mutual silence on the wire and you are content with the barely perceptible rustle of wheels, bringing thoughts and feelings into relative order.

"Just don't go anywhere, okay?"

"I was waiting in the garden, contemplating, beg your pardon," - you smirk softly, humming the now so appropriate line.

"It's not fair to mock me with my own songs, girl."

"Leave me at least something, Eilish," - you smile, imagining her childishly sly expression frozen in imaginary offense.

You drop the call and lean your back against the trunk of a tree with a spreading crown. Well, all that's left is to wait.

×××

"Damn, you're all wet!"

"Can we be a little less blatant, Billie?" - you plop down into the passenger seat next to her, slipping your seatbelt on in one motion until it clicks into place. It's impossible to wipe the smirk off your face after this joke. Naturally, you lost in your verbal altercation and Eilish arrived as she wanted, but no one forbade you to get even at the expense of lewd jokes, right?

"Shut up, you know what I meant," - Billie snorts amusedly, blue eyes sweeping over you from head to toe. - "I just want to help you, my underdog and... I missed you."

You meet her eyes and sparks shoot up in the back of your head again, like multi-colored fireworks, and the cog of anxiety that has been a regular in your head lately starts to slowly spin, revealing before your eyes the endless lines of negative comments you've read today. What bad timing.

"Is something wrong?" - and you're not even surprised. Billie reads people like an open book, her incredible talent that you sometimes get a little jealous of.

"A little later, Bils, I promise," - the gray highlights merge with the infinite blue of her irises - understanding mixed with worry. You gently touch her hand resting calmly on the gearbox and deftly interlock your fingers, creating an overall perfect puzzle. The feel of her skin makes you feel so warm inside. - "I missed you too, love."

Eilish blurs into a smile, clinging to the last word, which is new to both of you, and your heart does a somersault. You've only been dating for a week and you need to get used to this. Going from being friends to lovers is a strange but pleasant thing.

"Shall we go?"

"You don't deserve her!", "Another affair, pfft...", "Disgusting!" - The cog speeds up, causing your single nervous exhalation to shatter the silence of the cabin as if you had shotgunned the roof above you two.

Her lips touch your knuckles on the palm still closed with her, saving you from the captivity of the stinging words of Internet strangers. The sound of rain rhythmically drumming on the body of the Dodge suddenly fills your ears. She seems to know everything.

"Please, can I stay with you?" you look at Eilish as if she were a prayer altar: blue eyes reflecting your deep hope mixed with fatigue and helplessness. Warm smile of her beautiful lips is your impulse to confessional.

"I wasn't going to let you go, silly."

×××

You reach her house in silence: no unnecessary questions and jokes, just the sound of a non-stop downpour. Billie is completely focused on the road, and with your finger you are already drawing the eighth heart on the fogged window, like amulets from voracious thoughts. Dodge smoothly pulls into the parking lot, and you don't really remember how you find yourself in her bedroom, sitting lost on a huge bed.

"Hey, my girl," - the back of her palm touches your cheek incredibly softly, causing you to immediately stare at her. Eilish is kneeling in front of you, in her arms a warm red sweater with two white stripes in it, and her eyes are pure silver steel. It's not clear if she's mirroring the frowning sky looming outside the huge panoramic bedroom window, or if anxiety is stirring so strongly within her, crowding out all the peaceful blue of her irises. - "Put it on, I don't want you to get sick."

"It's from the CHIHIRO shoot, right?" - you take off your wet T-shirt and folding it accurately, as if won't throw it in the wash. Billie pulls the sweater over you, nodding affirmatively. The gray steel of her eyes doesn't open from you for a second. - "I've never seen 'Spirited Away'. It's silly, but as a kid I was always scared about those pigs and turned off the TV right away, and over time I just plain forgot I wanted to watch it to the end."

"Do you want to watch it together?" - her hands touch your waist, gently stroking your sides as if supporting you through the touch. If you were in a different frame of mind, you'd let go of a million jokes. The domineering Eilish kneeling in front of you is quite a display.

"I don't think the person who wrote an entire song about this anime would be interested," her palms calculatingly slowly slide off your waist to obligingly offer you warm house shorts. - "You've probably reviewed it back to back."

"With a girl like that, looking so mind-blowing in my sweater, I'm ready to look at least a thousand more times," - she moves a little closer to your face, lifting herself slightly on the arms on either side of your hips. Her lips, where you instantly shifted your gaze to, now have the hottest smirk you've ever seen in your entire life. You feel the flame of embarrassment flicker across your cheeks. Billie bites her lower lip and you immediately look at the top of her head, out of harm's way. For the first time, you notice that she's a little wet herself, running out of the car with you.

"Only if you wear a sweater too so you don't get sick, O'Connell." - you kiss her gently on the forehead, because kissing on the lips is still embarrassing. She agrees.

×××

"Haku, you know, my mom told me... I don't remember much myself. When I was little, I fell into a river once. Now the river's been filled in. They built houses there. But I just remembered! I remembered what it was called." - You watch the little girl fly on the dragon under the moon itself, holding onto its horns, and suddenly you feel Еilish's hands pull you closer into her arms. You only rest your head on her shoulder, relaxing completely and covering your eyes for a second against the coziness around you. - "It was called - Amber River. Kohakugawa. Your real name is Kohakugawa."

"I know everything, y/n. I know they write everything," Billie whispers softly, scorching your ear with hot breathing. You immediately jump up, open your eyes abruptly, and stare at her with an understanding and frightened look, echoing exactly the emotion of Kohakugawa himself. - "Hey, hey, hey! Relax, baby, I'm right here."

Billie deftly grabs the remote and pauses the footage with a barely audible click of a button, and your anxiety cog is spinning in your head again, winding up your sanity at an insanely fast pace. Again a shroud of avatars with mostly pictures of her, again a cluster of venomous the letters, "You don't deserve her!", "She's probably with her out of pity.", "Billie has everything but taste in girls." Click, click, click! You put your hands on your head like you're covering your ears. O'Connell reaches her hands toward you, and you leap out of bed in one strong and sharp, the word of a bucket of boiling water being splashed on you. It becomes so damn hard to breathe. The steel in her eyes, even in the semi-darkness of the room is intense and red-hot to the extreme.

"Y/n..."

"They're all right, Billie! I don't deserve you! I'm such a fucking coward!"

You grab desperately at the collar of your sweater, the word that imaginary lump in your throat is about to cause asphyxiation if you don't. Your hands shake uncontrollably, your gaze darting from side to side, clinging to the huge plasma, to the chair, to the corners of the sheets hanging from the bed, but returning to her each time. You see her slowly rise from the bed. You see it, and you immediately run to the stairs without even thinking about it. The cog clicks wildly, drowning out even the sound of footsteps that immediately overtake you. Your hands cling to the railing as you twisted your ankle on a hurried descent. Close your teeth tightly against the waves of acute pain and run, run, run!

But you realize you can't, leaning back powerlessly against the wall, already near the door. You can't because it hurts too much to run, and you can't because you love her too much. Billie pushes you against the wall even tighter in a second, looming over you like a hurricane. Arms spread on either side of you. You're trapped. Her breath hitches a little, scorching your neck, but her face shows nothing like anger, only seriousness and concern. She stares at you so intently that you think the wall behind you is about to crack and fall to dust.

Confident, yet lost in words, she finds nothing better than her own lines

"Open up the door, can you open up the door?" - she touches both palms to your face and you feel for the first time how much they shaking, - "I know you said before you can't cope with any more..."

"That's my favorite line from your song," - you flap your nose, realizing you really can't take it anymore.

"I know."

And you cry, shamelessly and right in front of her. You feel the salty, clear paths from your eyes dripping down her arms, see the worried silver in her eyes change to their usual tantalizing ghostly blue. You feel her clutch you in hers tightly, sliding down the wall with you. You hiss at the pain in your ankle and she shudders fearfully, fingers touching your chin and lifting your head. Your gazes meet and you see the weeping oceans opposite, so bright against the pinkish whites. She is crying along with you.

"Did you fall? God, y/n, we have to...," - her pleasant husky voice twitches with worry and tears, and you cover her neat, plump lips with yours, silencing her. She responds immediately, biting your lower lip lightly in a silent plea for more. You obediently open your mouth, immediately meeting her tongue. You feel the salt from your tears and the heat in your heart. True, and much lower, too.

"I'm scared, Billie," - you say honestly, palms resting on her collarbones. The cog in your head immediately fall with a clatter, crack in two. - "I said I wouldn't be afraid of some strangers' opinions, but it turned out not to be like that at all. I seem to be hated now, even for just breathing."

"I understand, my heart," - Billie put her arm around you, her hands stroking your back. From your shoulder blades to your tailbone, over and over again. - "But I chose you, not any of them, remember. You are my conscious choice. You are my love."

You hear her reply, finally finding the reassurance you need. "You are my conscious choice." The storm of words subsides as you standing this phrase on a shelf in your head like a trophy. The wreckage of the cogwheel of worry dissolves altogether, disappearing into infinity.

Eilish catches your smile and kisses you immediately. Your hands cling at her neck, and she moans gutturally as she gets what she wants. But she pulls away immediately:

"We need to take care of your ankle first, dumbass. I'll dial the number of a docotra I know."

"And then?" - you ask so childishly naive as Billie helps you gently stand up and you walk leisurely toward the couch in her living room.

"And then we'll watch this anime and I'll take back every kiss you owe me when I've been gentlemanly patient." - She sits you down on the soft couch, plopping down next to you. With her hand, she immediately pulls out her cell phone from the pocket of her home shorts. - " To make sure you heard exactly what I said."

"Thank you. For everything."

And later you do make out to one of Hayao Miyazaki's great masterpieces, just as she promised.

[atarathegreat]

Hello! May request a Draken sibling!Reader x Mikey. Any scenario and/or headcanons will do! Thx♡

No one knew what the hell was wrong with the commander. For weeks on end Mikey had been acting weird, not acting as childish or as ruthless. Even in fights, he was more inclined to let people at least have the ability to walk away, which was a little concerning to Draken. All the founders and captains were used to Mikey absolutely destroying his opponent, and he just suddenly...stopped.

Draken leaned back on his bed, watching his friend. "The hell is up with you recently, man?" Kenny couldn't take it. Especially when Mikey was over to hang out, he wasn't acting like himself. "What do you mean, Ken-chin?" Mikey looked up from the comic book in his hand. "Dude, you've been acting strange as hell." Draken threw a pillow at him. Mikey was the only one who hadn't noticed this change. He thought he was the same as always.

"Kenny!" Mikey straightened up at the cute voice, "I brought you and Mikey some drinks." Draken's little sister came in and set down a couple of drinks. She was only a few months older than Emma, and Mikey figured that if Kenny had a crush on Emma, then he could have a crush on Y/n. Dark eyes watched as she plopped down next to her brother, "And the ladies said that, when you have time, they need help moving a couple boxes."

"I'll get to it when I get to it. Damn." Draken rolled his eyes, "Don't they know I'm busy?"

Y/n giggled, and Mikey felt like his heart was going to implode. She was adorable. Unlike Emma, she had no desire to grow up fast, be more mature, or even dress like she had something to show. Mikey loved his sister, of course, but this girl... she was everything he wanted, and he couldn't help but compare and contrast the two the same way he did to himself and Kenny. Draken was mature and careful where Mikey was childish and impulsive. Was Y/n the same as him? He really hoped so.

"What about you, Mikey? Can you help?" Y/n turned to the shorter blonde.

Draken tugged on her ponytail, "Hey, don't start asking my friends to do your chores!"

"I'm asking for help, you overgrown lima bean!"

"Watch your mouth, you underdeveloped mouse!"

It was always weird when the two argued, hurling meaningless insults at each other that Draken would apologize for later.

For a second, Mikey wondered if she'd even be into a short guy. He was just around below average, but she grew up staring at the ceiling to talk to her brother. What if she couldn't stand looking eye level at him? Or what if she wanted someone with a deeper voice? Mikey wasn't exactly...gruff.

"Stop being a brat!" Y/n was pinning Draken down and jerking on his shirt, "I'm only asking for help, not for him to do everything for me!" Kenny could've easily thrown her off, but she was his baby sister. So, he yelled to Mikey for help. "Mikey, grab this deranged dust bunny!"

Mikey was careful to grab around her waist, no higher and no lower, to pull her away from her brother. He liked carrying Y/n, but he didn't want to hold on for too long and risk Draken seeing that he had a crush. "We should bring her along to our next fight and set her loose on the guys!" Mikey laughed, though he wouldn't actually let her anywhere near a fight. "I'll help you with whatever it is." Mikey smiled, ignoring the way Draken groaned and told him not to bother.

Despite her brothers' warnings to not help, Mikey followed her through the brothel and to her own little room. "I just need help moving these boxes to the room across from Kenny's." She crouched down and picked up a box, a box that Mikey quickly grabbed from her. "Alright." He grabbed another box underneath it, "Lead the way."

Maybe he would just confess to Y/n when Kenny confessed to Emma...

yes, the parallel is on purpose :)

Part 2

[aliveinacoffin]

Miguel O'Hara fluff

A spider-reader has the fattest crush on Miguels fat ass.

And maybe he does too.

Have a crush on your ass, not his.

Also more than likely ooc but we both know if you're here you don't mind. (I'm so sorry)

___________________________________________

"I do not!" You huffed out, throwing your arms up.

"Oh come on, literally everyone here has noticed your thing for Miguel." Jess laughed, setting her hip on the table while she looked through her watch.

"Even if I do, he one hundred percent doesn't feel the same." You sighed, setting your feet down from the metal table. Your spider eyes wide and to the sky, your mask hid the deep frown you had.

Jess looked up to you, and even though she couldn't see your face, she could tell that you were upset. You didn't bounce back to your usual positivity and silliness, instead replaced by silence.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I'm just teasing you." She rubbed your shoulder affectionately.

"I know, thanks mom." You brushed her hand away, chuckling airily. Getting up you leaned over the table to oversee all the science-y papers that had accrued.

"On the tone of mom...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's so cute! Jess is really excited to have a baby. I just wished she hadn't told me her and her husband have been trying for awhile." You said.

"Good for her! I'll have to ask her more about it later." Sun spider, or Charlotte as you've come to know her, said. She already had been jotting everything down in her notebook for the Spider-Weekly, a weekly magazine made for the spiders in the verse, by the other spiders.

It wouldn't make front page, maybe somewhere in the drama section.

"Yeah, she's really excited to be a mom." You had your back turned, your attention focused solely on following the recipe to make more web. You didn't notice the door open to the private lab, or Sun-Spider panicking to do something 'important.'

"Whose excited to be a mother?" A deep voice growled out, commanding in the way the question was asked.

"Jess! Haven't you-" You turned around, the smirk you wore dropped when you saw him.

Miguel.

Miguel O'Hara, or Spiderman 2099 stood towering over you, serious face and a deadly look in his eyes.

He was always so deadpanned, Miguel always wanted spiders to focus on missions and missions only. He never liked gossip, and any time you came in to spill the tea, he did everything in his power to ignore you. Which is why recently you had to go to new avenues, like Sun-spider. It wasn't like she wasn't your friend, you two just weren't that close.

"Uhhh, Jeeeeess???" You winced out. You weren't really I'm the mood to get scolded at, especially not with company. But leaning over, you saw that Sun had abandoned you.

Miguel's eyebrows went up a fraction, such a fast and small movement that if you hadn't been staring at him you wouldn't have noticed.

"I wasn't aware of that." He simply stated, looking over to see what you were doing. He called out your name, quickly taking the vials you were holding.

"Hey! I was working on that." You leaned over to see what he was doing, encroaching on his personal space, his weird hologram suit fizzing gently against your felt one.

"Well, you were doing it wrong, mensa." Miguel said, annoyed. So annoyed that he had to help you doing such a simple task.

"Hey! I may be a no sabo kid, but I know what that means, pendejo." You huffed out, you watched him quickly mix together a variety of liquids and chemicals. Quickly transferring and stirring each step of the way.

"Of course you'd know all the curse words." His brown eyes met yours, a bored look on his face.

"I do not! I know like, simple shit. Yo comprendo un pocito tambíen, cara de caca." You cackled, turning around to hang up your lab coat.

You missed the way he hung his head and smiled, holding back a silent chuckle.

"¿Sí? Veo que eres bilingüe." Miguel straighted his hunched over form, looking to you over his shoulder.

You stared at him, slowly piecing together what he said. "Hey kiss my ass!" You threw a random manilla folder at him.

He caught it before anything could spill out, surprisingly fast for a man with no spidey senses.

"I'd rather not."

You rolled your eyes at his serious response, and came over back to the table. "Thanks! Though, could've totally done this myself." You shrugged, putting out an overconfident personality.

"Yeah, that's why it wasn't on the verge of exploding. How you managed that is beyond me." Miguel shook his head, rolling his eyes. Watching you refil your web slinger.

Silence filled the room while you completed the simple task, the air tense.

"You haven't come to me in a while. I thought you went AWOL." He said, simple words you were waiting for him to utter.

"W-well. I've been turning in my reports on time. Just as long and descriptive as always." You shrugged, not meeting his intense gaze.

"That's not what I meant."

He meant the fact that you hadn't come to his office to complain the the printer wasn't working, or that the morning was horrid as always, or the drama in the office.

The truth? You started to look forward to speaking to him, seeking it to quell the loneliness that was left after the butterflies. You started to avoid the feeling of your fave heating and the speed of your heart, knowing that the stoic man would literally never feel the same.

"I just-got...busy?" It was more of a question than a statement, unsure of your answer.

"How? You've done nothing but prance around as usual."

Okay, um wow, ick.

Just kidding, his ass was too fat to get the ice.

"Hey! I'm a busy spider person! I have many, spider things to do." You were waving your hands around. You turned on your heel, going to walk out before a strong hand literally covered your shoulder.

"Wait, did I....do something?" Miguels voice drastically changed, stern to soft in seconds. His eyes were searching yours too.

"I-no, it's just. I don't know man, I'm sorry." You admitted, eyes looking down while you played with your hands.

"If-if I did something, you should come to me to fix it, as your superior you should always report to me." Miguel said, sliding his hand off your shoulder, and his usual face of stoicism came sliding back on.

That as well, Miguel was technically your boss, the man you scouted you out and now that you work under.

"I know. That...this doesn't have to do with that."

"Then what-what is impending your work." He was stretching, you knew that, but you couldn't just tell him, hey I'm totally in love with you but I know you don't feel the same so that's why I'm avoiding you!

Things don't work that way.

"Nothing it's just...it's nothing really, it's fine." You turn back around, missing the way Miguel reached out to stop you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A ding made Miguel O'Hara look up from the feed he was watching. He turned behind him, looking at the new report that just came in. It was from you.

Miguel filed it away from later.

He had once complained to you how long they were, and how he didn't need to know every detail. You made a point after that to make them even longer and lengthier.

He would never, never admit it out loud, but he liked to read them just before bed. He loved your writing, how he could just step in and be there, like he was there with you, fighting alongside you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miguel?" Your voice was unsure, timid. You couldn't see the platform he was usually brooding on, and you stepped out to try and find him.

Your face dropped to an annoyed when you saw him slowly descending from his throne.

"When are you gonna make that thing faster?" You called out.

"I do it so it so my work isn't disturbed further." Miguel said pointedly. You climbed up the platform when it got close enough, pushing away the floating screens from your face.

"I brought you lunch! I didn't see you at the cafeteria so..." You shook the box, and put it down on his desk.

The awkward silence hung on the air again, before you couldn't bear it, but the beating of your heart made you falter.

The sight of Miguels' handsome face and built body made your heart pound and stomach twist.

You mentally slapped your face before you took a deep breath in.

"So did you hear about plush spider-man and Toy Spiderman?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You should return to your universe." Miguel had waited until the two of settled in silence to say something. Usually, you ranted for awhile before you were called into a mission.

But this time, nothing pulled either of you away. And Miguel listened while you talked, it was mostly you anyway. At first when you started to bug the older man, you didn't know if he was listening or not, but you saw how his ears perked up and how he'd subtly remind you of details of stories that you'd told.

"Woowwww, you're kicking me out? I'm not that annoying, am I?' You looked up at him from where you were hanging, a fake hurt look coming to your face.

"You are, and you should leave." He didn't even look back to you, only reading some article or report.

"Miggyyyyy." You called out for him. He hated it when you used that nickname, but you loved watching him shake his head.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and watched what he was doing with your head on his shoulder. A massive shit eating grin decorated your face as he tensed and glared at you. You ignored your racing heart and hot face just to see the look on his.

He didn't push you off there, merely pausing for a moment before resuming his work. "You know I hate that nickname, it's annoying and unprofessional."

"Unprofessional? Because we're all a super serious business, a super legit business too." You laughed.

Miguel rolled his eyes, they constantly flick from your face to his work.

"Whatcha doiiinn." You rested your chin on his head, quickly getting bored.

"Working. Like you should be doing." He said, exasperated.

You made a fart sound, "Working is for nerds, me? I'm a cool guy." You walked away from him, getting ready to jump off the platform before you looked back at him. Shocked to see he was staring at you.

There was silence, again. Something so unusual for you two, for you.

"Yeah?" You asked, timid.

"Theres...." Miguel stood up, turning to you fully. "Lunch, tomorrow. Would you...like to go out for lunch tomorrow? There's a special going on at some place downtown, and I thought it'd be something that you'd enjoy."

You blinked owlisly at him, this was so...out of character for him. And he seemed apprehension, like every word he said was like pulling teeth. His fave seemed more red, his skin making it more apparent since he already had a reddish undertone.

"I-I'd love to! I mean," You cleared your throat, and stood up straight, putting on a serious persona, "Yeah sure its whatever." You snifged, wiping your nose to try and look cool.

Miguel gave you a blank stare, but unlitmatly rolling his eyes to let out a chuckle. The sight was something to behold, especially from your serious leader.

"I'll see you tomorrow! And I expect you to be wearing people clothes, since we'll be going out as people!" You laughed, jumping down and running from the platform.

Miguel just let out a fond sigh as he watched you leave. And he turned around to Lyla giving him a smug look.

He scowled, "I don't want a word from you."

She mimicked zipping her lips closed, smirking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Self Control.

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Pairing - Javier Peña x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood and death

Word Count - 3429

Author's Note - hello lovely people, hope you're all well. i've been a huge fan of pedro pascal since his narcos days, so all of this love for him happening currently is making me very happy. javier peña is perhaps my favourite tv character of all time, so i'm very excited to share this story with you. i'd always love to write more javi stuff, so if you ever have any thoughts, please send them my way. i'm happy to write for all pedro characters actually!! as always, much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. 

It was supposed to be simple. A routine raid. Get the information and go. 

How did it all go so wrong? 

Gunshots. Blood. A sea of green uniforms scattering the ground. Escobar had somehow known about it. He was taking no prisoners. 

The Search Bloc had lost men. The Colombian Police had lost men. You were just praying that you hadn't. 

Javier Peña and Steve Murphy were still out there. You had no idea if they were okay. They could be shot, bleeding out. Kidnapped. Or worse. 

No. 

You're driving yourself insane thinking of all the possible worse case scenarios. Your mind can't help but go there. It's instinct. 

You're sat waiting. Hoping. Praying. You've made your home at Javi and Steve's desks - they're more central to the action than your own. You're watching the front doors, sat in Javi's chair. It smells like cigarette smoke, and musk, and him. You let the familiar scent envelope you, allowing it to bring you comfort. You breathe him in. He'll be here soon. You know he will.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Javier Peña was a complicated man. An enigma. He was tough, but gentle. Rugged, but tender. Commanding, but reserved. He was one big juxtaposition. Impossible to read. 

Or so he thought. 

You came along, and challenged every single one of his existing beliefs. You turned him soft - more understanding, more empathetic. He'll tell you he hates it. He lies. 

You weren't supposed to be here. Not really. You'd followed your brother, a DEA agent, all the way from Texas to Colombia. He'd told you he was being sent to South America to assist with the Pablo Escobar situation, and you'd packed your bags without a second thought. You had no one else. Wherever he goes, you go. Except one place. 

He'd died two months into the job. Shot dead by Escobar's men, in a situation that he shouldn't have even been in. And all of a sudden, you were alone. Alone in an unfamiliar place. Alone in the world. 

Javier made sure that wasn't true. He took you under his wing like an injured baby bird, slowly but surely nursing you back to health. He'd been there, when Carrillo had told you the fate of your brother. He'd caught you in his arms when your knees had given out, held you like he was scared you were going to shatter into a thousand pieces. He was holding you together. He has been, ever since. 

You were just a secretary. The odd one out. The only woman. Looked down on. People pitied you, really. You heard the things they said. Even if you didn't understand, you heard. You could take a guess. 

The world was a terrifying place for a woman. It was a terrifying place in general. But it seemed to be less scary knowing that Javier and Steve were at their desks just across the precinct every day. Your safety blankets. Your protectors. Which is exactly why the thought of losing either of them was currently ripping you apart from the inside out.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your eyes shot up every time the door opened. Slowly but surely, members of the Search Bloc filtered in - many of them bloody, and injured, but alive. You weren't taking your eyes off the entrance to the precinct. Not for a second. Not when any minute, Peña and Murphy could walk in, and everything would be okay again. Any minute now, you reassure yourself. Any minute now. 

You hear steel toe boots on the linoleum floor, and your breath hitches… but it’s Colonel Carrillo. He spots you from across the room and strides over, ignoring any pleas for his attention from the Search Bloc guys. He envelopes you in a hug - professionalism be damned.

“Are you okay?”, you ask when he pulls back. “What happened? I’ve been going insane listening over the radio.”

“I’m okay, mi amor. We’re still trying to figure out what went wrong. He knew, someone had to have told him.”

You’re just about to ask him about Murphy and Peña when he says,

“We got separated in the chaos. I don’t know where they are, but I’m sure they’re fine. Try not to panic, okay?”

He’s looking at you carefully, and you’re nodding, but you know you aren’t going to take his advice. If anything, now you’re panicking more. Men are filtering through the door every minute, but none of them are the two you’re looking for. Anxiety creeps into your stomach, wraps its claws around your insides. You can’t shake it. You feel like you’re being swallowed by dread - it’s all too familiar. You know exactly what it’s like to have someone you love go into the field and not return.

Carrillo strokes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and leaves to attend to his men. You sit back down in Javi’s chair, trying to burrow into his scent, the warmth of the leather. You can imagine his big strong arms wrapping themselves around you, the way he nuzzles his nose into the crown of your head when he hugs you, how he traces patterns on your back when he holds you when you’re particularly upset. 

You think about Steve, and the way he winks at you when you catch eye contact across the room, or how he throws an arm around your shoulders whenever he sidles over to your desk to bother you. He’s always stealing candy from your top drawer, and then acting innocent when you call him out on it. You feign annoyance, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You know you’re lucky to have the two of them looking out for you. You know you’re lucky to have Carrillo on your side too - life would be undoubtedly more difficult without his protection. They make you feel less vulnerable, more equal. You no longer feel like a lamb at the slaughter every time you walk into work. 

Drops of water hit your lap, and you realize you’re crying. Warm, wet tears slide down your cheeks, taking streaks of your mascara with them. Your lipstick has smudged where you’ve been peeling at the skin of your lips, and your nail polish has been incessantly picked at for hours. You know you look just as much of a mess on the outside as you feel on the inside. You close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Calm down, you tell yourself. You’d know if something bad had happened to them. You’d feel it. 

It’s as if time has become molten - sticky, warm molasses. Minutes feel like hours. The world is moving in slow motion, and it’s making you dizzy. Your breath is coming in short, sharp pants, and the urge to curl up into a ball grows stronger by the second. If the boys don’t show up soon, you’re convinced you’re going to crumble into a thousand pieces. You feel like you’re shattering, splitting apart at the seams. Fear sits on your chest like an ugly, relentless creature, choking you with each passing minute. The world is getting colder, darker, and you’re defenseless.

And just like that, your sun appears. Battered, bruised, bloody, but alive. Standing in the doorway, panting and breathless, is Javier Peña. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re leaping out of his chair, and practically running to close the distance between you. You collide with the solid mass of a man, and he wraps his arms around you like it’s second nature. He smells like cigarettes and musk and gunpowder and the outdoors and smoke and home. Relief fills your body, and the weight of it almost knocks you off your feet. You settle further into his chest like you belong there, pressing your nose into him and inhaling. 

You pull away, and notice that his chest is damp. The tears from before are back with a vengeance, sprinting their way down your cheeks, forming puddles wherever they can reach. You’re not sure if you’re crying due to happiness, or fear, or relief - perhaps a mixture of all three. You’re both still panting, looking at each other in disbelief. You fist your hands into the front of his shirt, as if to ground yourself to him. Checking he’s real. In the flesh.

“Don’t cry, cariño. I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

He’s murmuring quietly to you, as if you’re the only two people in the room. He reaches out, and gently uses his thumbs to swipe away the tears that are still escaping. Cradling your face in his big, calloused hands, he looks at you earnestly.

“I’ll always come back, bonita. You know I will. Just like I promised.”

He presses his forehead to yours, and for the first time in hours, you relax. You stay pressed together like that for what feels like an eternity, until you hear familiar footsteps approaching. 

You break away from Javier to get a good look at Steve. He too is battered and bruised - hair mussed, shirt torn, blood staining his jeans and his hands. But he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

“Murphy,” you breathe, before wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You’d go out there and take down Escobar yourself if you could. If it meant you didn’t have to see your friends in pain anymore. This job is killing you all from the inside out, slowly but surely. You’re all shells of yourselves. You wonder how much longer you’re all going to be able to cope before you snap. You have a feeling that these two men in front of you are closer to their breaking points than you think. 

“God, I need to shower. I’ve never sweat this much in my life,” Steve remarks, and now that you’re looking at him, you can’t help but agree. You nod, smirk etched on your face, and the corners of his lips turn up. A slight smile from Steve. That’s a win.

A voice rumbles from behind you in response to Murphy’s statement. Jesus, Javi was closer to you than you thought.

“Yeah, me too. You go. I’ll drive her home.” He places a hand on the small of your back, and you can feel the warmth of him seeping through his palm.  He always runs so hot, you think to yourself. Your sun.

Murphy squeezes your arm and heads out the door, leaving you and Javier standing in the middle of the precinct. Everyone seems to be heading home, the room becoming increasingly quiet. You figure the two of you should follow suit. You gesture at Javi to give you a minute, and make your way over to the Colonel’s office, popping your head in the doorway. 

“You should go home, Carrillo,” you say softly. “You need to sleep just as much as the rest of us.”

He smiles at you tentatively, his face dampened with worry. You can see clear as day that he’s blaming himself for the events of the evening. You also know that there’s nothing you can say to make it better.

“I will, querida. I will.”

And with that, you grab your things from your desk, and make your way over to where Javi is waiting for you. He returns his hand to the small of your back, and guides you to his car.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your hands are shaking when you try to unlock the front door to your apartment. You can’t quite get the key in the lock, and it’s becoming frustrating. Why are you acting like you were the one being shot at tonight? All you had to do was sit at your desk and wait. Get a grip, you tell yourself. You’ve had it the easiest.

Javi can see you’re struggling, so he reaches out and opens the door for you. You step inside, immediately kicking off your heels and throwing down your purse. You turn on the lamp in the corner of the living room, and draw the blinds. All the while, Javi stands in the doorway, watching you complete your nightly rituals. It’s disarming to see you like this, he thinks. So domestic. So at peace.

He clears his throat awkwardly, and places his hand on the doorknob.

“Let me leave you alone, cariño. You need to rest. The adrenaline of tonight is going to wear off any minute, and we’re all gonna crash.”

He takes a step, but you lunge forward in his direction to stop him.

“Wait! Wait. I - I don’t… I can’t - please.” You can’t find the right words. In fact, you’re not even sure what you’re asking for.

He steps back inside your apartment, and shuts the door behind him gently, making sure to lock the deadbolt. He’s never been a man to take stupid chances when it comes to your safety. When it comes to you.

“What is it, mi amor?”, he asks carefully. “What do you need?”

“You,” you answer without a second thought. “Please don’t leave. I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight if you leave.”

He looks at you for a moment - carefully surveying. He takes in your appearance, the pain in your eyes, the way you look so small and fearful standing in front of him. It’s not even a question.

He kicks off his boots, and takes his wallet and his cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans, placing them on the counter. Then, he strides over, across the room, and smothers you in a hug that he’s convinced he probably needs more than you. 

You stand like that, embraced in each other, for what feels like forever. Two people breathing each other in, trying to absorb the other person. If you could crawl into Javier’s chest, bury yourself into his ribcage, you would. No hug is ever close enough. Never enough. It’s never enough.

“I’ll stay,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’ll always stay.”

You pull back to gaze into those big brown eyes, warm and sweet like chocolate. He looks serene, peaceful, almost. You don’t get to see him like this very often.

“You should shower,” you tell him quietly. You’re worried that you’re going to spook one another, so you both keep the volume to a minimum. “I’ll make us some tea.”

He nods gently, and makes his way to your bathroom. Moments later, you hear the water running, so you begin to boil the kettle, reaching for two mugs from your cabinet.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You place a mug of tea on each nightstand either side of your bed, and slip out of your skirt and blouse. You opt for a tank top and shorts - the Colombian heat still unrelenting, even in the early hours of the morning. The sun will be up soon, you think. A new day.

Javi stands in the doorway of your bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips. Droplets of water are journeying down his chest, and your eyes follow, as if on instinct. He smirks when he catches you, watching your face heat up slightly.

“Cute bedsheets,” he remarks. “I like the love hearts.”

He’s still smirking, so you get up to smack him on the arm.

“Shut up, Javier,” you threaten, with no real malice. “Your tea is on the nightstand.”

You turn your back when he changes back into his black boxers, which only amuses him further. He can’t help but admire you from his place across the room. The way your hair blows slightly with the breeze from the opened window, the band of skin between where your tank top ends and your shorts begin, the sweat at the nape of your neck. He knows you’d taste like salt and sugar simultaneously. It takes everything in him not to run his tongue up your spine. You shiver from your spot on the edge of the bed, as if you can read his mind.

“I’m dressed, querida,” he almost whispers. You turn around, and shamelessly let your eyes rake over his golden skin, wishing so badly to reach out and touch him. He’s wearing significantly less clothes than you expected. Not that you’re complaining.

He lays down carefully on one side of your bed, stretching himself out on his back. You turn off the lamp on the nightstand, and lay down on the other side, careful to keep some distance between the two of you. You thought that having him here would relax you, but it seems to be doing the opposite. You feel like your nerve endings are on fire - the room is too warm, you can’t seem to get your lungs to fill with air, you’re hyper aware of every little movement in the room. You’re on edge.

Javi’s breathing is deep, calculated. He’s trying to keep calm. Everything in him is screaming to reach out and touch you, to throw an arm around your waist, to tangle his legs in between yours. He’s not sure he’s ever shown this level of self control.

“Javi,” you breathe. “Relax, please. I can feel how tense you are from here.”

He takes a deep breath before he answers you.

“Sorry, mi vida. I’m just - I’m… I’m trying.”

“Trying?”

“Trying to use every inch of restraint that I have.”

Your breath hitches, and he hears it, clear as day.

“What for?” you whisper.

“To resist the urge to touch you.”

You’re breathing quicker now, and so is he. The air in the room is thick with tension - it’s a miracle you’re both still conscious. 

“You’ve never really been one to deny yourself of the things you want, Javi," you whisper. "You’re not usually the patron saint of self control.” 

And with that, he snaps. He grabs your hips, and uses effortless strength to pull you so you’re straddling him, settled in his lap. He sits up to bring your faces level, and presses his forehead into yours, just like he did mere hours ago in the precinct. 

You know that tonight has changed everything for the two of you. You also know there’s no going back from this - you can’t uncross this line. The friendship that exists between you and Javi, a relationship that’s been so carefully built on trust and support and boundaries - permanently altered if you continue. You just can’t seem to find it in you to care. Not really. You want Javier Peña for all he is, all he has. Consequences be damned.

“I love you, cariño,” he breathes into your mouth. “Fuck, I love you.”

You’re convinced that any minute, you’re going to wake up from this beautiful dream. But for now, you make the most of it.

“I love you, Javier Peña. I love you so much it hurts.”

And with that, he’s kissing you. It’s desperate, and it’s needy, and it’s so full of love you’re worried that you’re going to pass out. His lips are on your lips, and he’s got one hand firmly at the nape of your neck, holding you in place. As if I’m going anywhere, you think. I’d happily stay here forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice the sunrise. Dawn hits the window, casting an orange hue across the room. Javi looks like he’s glowing, the sunlight glinting off his hair. Golden boy.

He pulls off your shirt, and presses his chest to yours. He’s convinced you’re tethered to each other - he can feel the connection through your skin. It almost makes him want to cry, this feeling. It’s never felt like this before. It never will again. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, ensuring that there isn’t a centimeter of space between you. You don’t know what today holds. You know it won’t be easy. But you’re comforted by the fact that you know Javi will be right there beside you. No matter what happens from this moment on, Javi is always going to be right there beside you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you breathe into his mouth.

“I love you, mi alma,” he breathes back. “Mi corazón, mi alma.”

My heart, my soul. It’s as if he took the words right out of your mouth. 

Mi corazón, mi alma.

My heart, my soul.

[vikkirosko]

(This ask may be triggering, so feel free to ignore)

Could we please a Husk x Reader where reader committed suicide back on earth and its pretty much the only reason they are in hell now?

I had to look a couple things up and apparently killing yourself counts as a violation of the 6th commandment, the "thou shalt not kill" one, Sick. (Not all the sources agreed but mmmmmm angst ♡)

It can be romantic or platonic, whatever you choose. I just like it when Husk goes full "bartender" mode ^^

(I'm fine btw, I just like the angst)

🃏 Husk x Reader platonic headcanons Bartender mode 🥃

When you showed up at the hotel, Husk couldn't figure out what was wrong with you. Why were you in Hell at all? You were a friendly, sociable, bright person who clearly didn't belong there. Some things, like the murders, scared you. It might have seemed like you went to Hell by mistake. He thought about it until one evening you came to the bar when the others were no longer there and it was clear from your face that something was bothering you. Husk poured you a drink, waiting for you to start your story

After a couple of glasses of alcohol, you began to tell him in a tired voice that you did not remember doing anything wrong. You've been living an ordinary life. You had a job, you visited your parents several times a month, you didn't get involved with crime or anything forbidden. However, a dark streak began in your life, which led to the fact that you could no longer stand it and committed suicide. That was the only reason you ended up in Hell, and you were well aware of it

When you told him what caused you to go to Hell, Husk looked at you with surprised eyes. He had once heard that suicides went to Hell, but he did not think that if this was the only sin, Hell would still be waiting. However, you were sitting at the bar and were living proof that this was indeed the case. You told him you were sorry for what you did, because your parents and friends didn't deserve it. You hoped that they had lived good lives and that you could atone for your sin and meet them in Heaven

Husk told you straight out that you screwed up a lot, but his words didn't make you sad or angry. On the contrary, you laughed. You knew how absurd it all was. At first, you blamed yourself a lot for succumbing to weakness, but it wouldn't help, it would only make it worse. That's why you tried to move on. Perhaps a lot of things in Hell were still unusual and frightening for you, but you were able to find your place in the hotel and were glad that you had new friends, including Husk

Husk understood that you were trying to look at everything more positively, but a soft smile appeared on his lips anyway. He was glad that, despite what happened to you, you continued to hope for the best. He was ready to listen to you again if you wanted to talk. After all, that's why he was the bartender who listened to the rest of the hotel's inhabitants

[httpiastri]

I HAVE THOUGHTS !!!!!

imagine being paul's girlfriend and since it's winter break you two get to spend more time together. Snuggling with each other, lazy mornings together, no rush, no chaos, just enjoying the little things.

And one day you see Paul playing some video games and you're just looking at the screen, curious about how the game works so you walk towards him and ask him if you could play with him, something Paul is very enthusiastic about and quickly grabs your waist so you could sit on his lap, your hands on the controller and his right on top of yours so he can help you a little ((((imagine the size difference, omg)))), everything is giggles and fun, you can't help but smile when sometimes he slips out a few words in estonian and even if you don't quite understand it yet, you love hearing him so happy.

(that insta story he uploaded not long ago made me think of this, his hair looked so fluffy omg😭 and the beautiful, bright smile as well<333)

you have thoughts!! and i’m very thankful to have been let in on these amazing thoughts!!!!! 🤭 winter break with paul 🫶🫶🫶

spending some good quality time together as the season has been so busy… lazy mornings spent in bed just chatting, twirling his curls between your fingers as he laughs about a story you told, his big warm hands pulling you closer… cozy afternoons spent walking around the city in the snow, or sitting in cute little cafés, fingers intertwined and kisses being pressed to rosy, frozen cheeks… and long nights filled with cuddles, movie-watching, and hushed whispers about the future…

but of course, he also likes to spend some time playing games now that he's finally off. usually, you take the time to do something for yourself when he's playing, but sometimes you get curious and want to watch him play. he's got this new game that you've never seen before, and it looks very complex but also very intriguing, so you walk up to him.

when you ask him all these questions about how to play, what the goal is, what that character does and how to use that special command, he secretly finds it so cute. he's basically melting on the inside. he's just about to ask if you want to try it out, when you shyly ask him "can i play?", and he melts some more. he's so enthusiastic about it, head nodding quickly and hands find your waist instantly. he guides you onto his lap, placing the controller in your hands before letting his hands land on your thighs, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watches the screen.

then, when he sees you struggling, he chuckles and places his huge hands on top of yours. he moves your fingers to help you out, guiding you and letting you know what to do, and sharing giggles with you when everything still goes wrong. eventually, you start to get the hang of – but you pretend that you don't, because you want him to keep his hands on yours…

and then, after that day, gaming together becomes a common occurrence. you sit down together, preferably (for you both) in his laps, trying out new games and playing his old favorites. fighting games, teamwork games, farming simulators – anything just to spend time together and stay close. it's also an easy way for you to learn certain estonian terms, especially funny little swearwords that slip out in the middle of his laughter when you both fail a level of a game.

and he notices quite easily when you start getting tired. he placed sweet kisses to the back of your neck, whispering something about how you can go take a nap together, but you shake your head at him. then you hand him the controller, turning around in his lap and telling him to keep playing – before leaning forward, nuzzling your face into his neck and slowly dozing off.

and he has such a hard time focusing on the game when your chest is pressed up against his, with your sweet scent filling his senses and your touch clouding his thoughts. but he loves it, and wishes time could stop and he could just have you in his lap forever. the game isn't as important.

[roguedeck]

Nope! You need to play more Wraths.

I keep hearing content creators talking about how they are cutting back on Wrath effects. Some are saying they're playing three - or maybe even fewer ways to clear the board.

Just remember - everything you've been told about Commander is wrong!

Wait! What?!?

For what it's worth, I actually get what is going on here. Content creators need compelling content that plays well with the algorithm to drive traffic and engagement. The need compelling games with a ton of action to get viewers.

Nobody wants to watch a three hour game where the players just stare at empty boards. I don't care how charismatic you are, a wrath-heavy game isn't going to drive repeat views.

As always, "The Medium is the Message."

Also, Wraths make games less fun (to a point). The best part of Magic is playing awesome creatures, building a board state, and forcing opponents to react.

A single Wrath wastes all that hard work.

And on top of it all, they stretch the game out. So instead of getting in two or three games a night, you barely scrape by with a single game.

Maybe we should be playing fewer Wraths...

Not so fast my friend.

Here's the thing - all the above points are true. Wraths do make games go longer, and they do take away from the most fun parts of the game. But you still need an adequate number of Wraths in your Commander games.

Are you worried about value engines overwhelming all your games? Play more Wraths.

How abut a runaway leader problem. Excessive mana ramping? Treasures getting out of control?

Wraths are the answer. Magic is a balancing act, and wraths are the fulcrum.

As much as I see people talking about cutting back on wraths, I hear them lamenting the current prevalence of runaway value engines. Games don't seem interactive anymore. It's a bunch of multiplayer solitaire - waiting around on a player to be the first to find their combo.

They also complain that "EDH has sped up too much," and they can't play all their favorite old cards.

The answer to both of these is just play more Wraths.

Some people will tell you that the increase we see in single-target removal is a reaction to playing less Wraths. That's probably true. But the answer fits in balancing both options.

You need to play good, cheap, instant speed interaction. But in a four-player game, you just can't rely on having enough of it to carry you through the game. You will never have enough Swords to Plowshares to hit everything you need to.

Here's the Truth: You should be playing more Wraths.

I'm not going to give you a specific number. Some decks might be aggro inclined, and only want three. Some mid-range or control decks might want 5. I could come up with some deck ideas where you want a lot more.

But if you ever think you need to cut back on Wraths - stop! Ask yourself why.

EDH was originally created with a similar mindset of the original Type I deck builders who came up with "The Deck."

-- a quick history lesson --

The Deck was one of the first truly powerful competitive decks. It was a primarily UW (but actually 5-color) control deck that won with two copies of Serra Angel or Millstone.

It was also one of the first decks to put forward a coherent theory of Magic - with two axioms that we still live with today:

Card advantage wins games.

Life is just a resource. Winning at 1 life is still winning.

"The Deck" was created when it's designers started theorizing about a format with 40 life. If you could simply extend the game out long enough, and not lose, then you'd eventually win - especially if you had more cards than your opponent.

-- end lesson --

Longer games. Bigger spells. More time. More life. Sounds awfully familiar to the initial structures of EDH.

And just like old Type I, card advantage wins games.

That's the most important part about a Wrath. When played correctly, it is a card advantage machine. Single target removal is essential - but it is also a massive disadvantage against three other players. Best case scenario, you are just down a card to two players.

But a well-timed wrath can put you a dozen cards up on the table. Easily.

Wraths force engagement at the table. If you are relying solely on spot removal, you have to allow value engines and combos to build until that last critical point. You just don't have the resources to handle everything. This leads to both solitaire games and archenemy games - neither are particularly fun.

The New Rules.

You should be playing more Wraths. But you should also be playing them more responsibly - and that means playing them asymmetrically.

I think every new player has one similar experience when they start. We've all looked at Wrath of God and said, "Why would I ever want to kill all my own creatures."

It's a developmental stage in your play when you realize, Wraths are awesome when you don't have any creatures on board - or you have fewer than your opponents.

In Commander, Wraths need to be played in the same way - and with a focus on ending the game. So a couple of guidelines for wrathing:

Don't wrath after the 90 minutes mark, unless you have a follow up play you think will win the game. That's just extending the game for no reason.

Play more asymmetric wraths that leave you in an advantageous position. Tragic Arrogance should be played significantly more because it just wins games.

As counter-intuitive as it sounds, if you want more fun and interesting games, play more Wraths. Find new and interesting ways to get advantage from the (Blasphemous Act in Tajic anybody?). Just use them responsibly.

Note: After I wrote this article up, I did a quick Google search to see if there were any other points of interest I should bring up. Instead, I found an article written a year ago bringing up these exact same points. I wrote this article before reading that one, but the similarities are so striking I thought I should link/cite that one as well.

Card Kingdom | You Should be Playing More Wraths

[starlightsuffered]

Gentle

Info-soft Dom Timothée, praise kink, stressed reader, soft dominance, unprotected sex, sub space, minor size kink if you squint, love making, after care, a little bit of sir kink

"You can't sleep can you Mon amour?" Asked my boyfriend.

"'m sorry," I said guiltily. I didn't know he was awake. I'd been tossing and turning quite a bit.

"What's up love bug?" He asked.

"I just am so nervous about Monday. A wanted a promotion, don't get me wrong, but I'm so scared I'll fuck up and lose this," | sniffed. I felt so entire helpless.

"You feel stupid and weak and unprepared?" Timothée asked. I was taken aback by his brazen tone.

"Well yeah," | admitted.

"Let me meet you there," he whispered. I didn't know what he meant until he was gently sliding his hands up my sleep shirt. He pulled it off.

He dipped his head down and took one of my nipples in his mouth. He sucked slowly. The noises turned me on immensely. As he carefully suckled he then pulled down my panties.

"Good girl," he murmured into my skin. I felt a thrill buzz through me. I was flushed and arching into him. He showed some dominance then and pushed my hips down.

"You're not doing anything, in this moment you aren't responsible for a single thing but feeling good," he instructed me. I nodded obediently but my breath hitched at the dark look in his eyes.

"Say yes sir," he purred.

"Yes sir," I gasped as his hard head nudged at my entrance. He slid in slowly.

"There's my good girl, you've got such a perfect cunt you know that?" He asked.

"I try," I whined with pleasure as he began to thrust.

"No, say it princess, tell me you've got a perfect cunt," he whispered in my ear. His voice was filled with such love yet so much command.

"I've got a perfect cunt," | stuttered out.

"There we go," he praised. He held my legs apart and began to thrust deeper. He was groaning deeply with bliss.

"You're so amazing you know? You're going to do perfect. I'm backing a winning horse, l've got no worries. It's the easiest thing in the world to encourage you," he told me.

"Oh Timothée," | breathed. I was selling up.

"It's okay baby, everything is going to be okay," he hushed me. Then his lips were on mine. He was in complete control of my body. His lips were everywhere. He sucked a love bite into my neck, he sucked on my heaving breasts, his lips met my nose and kissed the tears of relief away.

"That's my girl, my beautiful girl," he praised as he felt my walls clenching as I neared orgasm.

"You're a goddess, making love to you is the most wonderful thing l've ever had the privilege to do," he moaned.

I was gasping for air as he took our intertwined fingers and raised our hands over our hands as he rocked into me.

"I want to keep you safe and happy for the rest of your life," he murmured. He was kissing me again. Each was sweet and relieving and tension loosening.

"You do so well for me every time. Your body is perfection. You fit me just right, your gorgeous snug pussy does wonders," he told me. I giggled and he was beaming. He rubbed his nose against mine. His forehead pressed to mine and our eyes were locked.

I lifted my legs, wanting to wrap them around him. He shook his head ever so slightly. I obeyed instantly and dropped my legs.

"Such a good listener," he crooned in a proud and impressed tone. He knew I needed him closer so he gathered me to him. My small body was engulfed with his larger one. He hugged me to him as he thrust into me. I was a whimpering mess.

"There's a good girl, that's good, just feel it. Forget all those worries, I've got you," he repeated over and over in my ear.

"C-can I come?" | whined, barely able to contain myself.

"Yes good girl, come on my cock, that's it," he guided me. I fell apart but he kept holding me and saying soothing praises.

"I, uhhh, Ohh, fuck, Timmy, holy shit, ahhh," I moaned. He grunted in pure ecstasy and panted heavily as spurts of cum began to fill me.

"Mmmmmm," I let out a high pitched sigh of delight. "I'm so full of you."

"Come on baby, you need to pee," he said.

"Don't wan it out of me," I said dreamily. I was fully in sub space. I didn't think I could move.

"Oh baby," he said lovingly. He got up. He was still naked when he easily picked me up. He opened the toilet lid with his foot and sat me down.

"Pee," he instructed and then left. I did as I was told, feeling like I might almost cry again because I wasn't looking at him.

He turned on the warm water and washed his hands. He then wet a comb and began to de tangled my hair.

When he was finished he braided it loosely. I was enjoying the feeling of his hands on me, and in my tresses.

"Timothée, I love you so much," I whispered.

"I love you too y/n," he replied. He finished my hair and got a soft washcloth. He cleaned off the saliva he'd left on my skin and carefully he wiped in and around my pussy. He kissed my forehead and cheek every now and again. He smiled the entire time.

"Come on Mon amour, you need sleep so you can rock the world on Monday, just relax this weekend," he said softly. He picked me up again and took me to bed. He put my panties back on me but I refused the shirt. I wanted his warm bare skin on mine.

He held me close. I nestled into him like a baby bird safely under a wind. He sung to me and rocked me as I fell asleep in his arms. He was perfect.

[call-me-cheese]

Lucifer x Eve!reader

Summary: You end up existing like a second person your whole life, but in the end everything can change

a/n: will it have part 2? Um, yes..? Btw ~2,3k words

You've been given horns, and the remnants of a halo glowed faintly around them. As you sat silently with your hands on your knees and sobbed. You understood why you went to hell, you hated the fact that you understood why.

From the very beginning, something was wrong, from the very beginning you were just an appendage, only an addition, you were never considered essential. You were given a name, you were called the first woman on earth, you thought you were important. Seemed. Then Adam came. And you've been told he's your husband. It was the first time you cried. There's nothing wrong with that, but there's nothing you want either, but being just a part you had to submit, submit, and agree, now you didn't have the power to decide for yourself.

When you were told that Lilith was better because she was beautiful, much more beautiful than you, you endured. When you were told that you would have to have a child for Adam's sake, you endured and silently hoped that he would forget about it. When you were told for the hundredth time that you were nothing and that there was no way to call you, that you had no right, that you had to live as you were told, you did not want to endure.

On those rare moments when the angels came down to you, you were silent, because Adam spoke, and you did not want to deal with him afterwards. In those rare moments when you had the pleasure of being alone, you considered yourself the happiest in this life, you sat for hours and looked into the water, you were beautiful, yes, but the title of second in everything disfigured you and your soul. When you first laughed, you were sitting in your own blood, you weren't hurting, you hoped you'd disappear from this hateful place and never see those landscapes again. What did they tell you when they noticed the absence? That Lilith was better because she was adequate.

You want to cry all the time, and when you cry you don't feel any better, because they call you a perpetually sobbing fool.

You are called a nobody, and you pray that you will be noticed not as a copy or likeness, but as at least someone. Not like a stupid simple copy of Lilith, made of the person you hate most right now, but like Eve, with a different face, height, and behavior.

When Adam declared that you weren't what he wanted for the thousandth time, you just walked away. You feel like your body is no longer able to create tears, it's able to breathe, you can't even eat normally. The fruit from the forbidden tree seemed beautiful to you, you loved the tree without ever understanding why, but it attracted you, probably, because it was called wrong, like you, it meant nothing, it only decorated the garden. It, like the lake nearby, has witnessed every tear and drop of blood you have generated. Before, it seemed to you that it was feeding on it, you watered it with your tears, holding on to it like a bird, tearing both the bark and your fingers, every word, every prayer, every petition for the cessation of existence you uttered here. If they saw everything, why didn't they answer? They promised to watch you, they forbade you to eat from the tree, they pointed out the eternal surveillance, they didn't notice anything. Why did they lie? Why did you try the faint hope that keeps you still here? What for? You won't be answered, because you are nothing, you are just an addition to the first man on earth... You are nothing.

In that moment, you could have sworn you heard something crunching, crunching inside you and your body feeling lighter.

When the sun began to set, you saw a snake on a tree, it shone with gold, you saw it more than once, probably, it also heard you, but you did not touch it, according to the commandments, everything in the garden is peaceful, does not attack, so you did not want a conflict. You've had enough of your inner self.

"Hello" you said to the snake, and getting up from the rock, you wanted to go away, you didn't decide where, but farther away from Adam, he came looking for you at that time, because he needed you as a servant, but he called it a relationship, called it something that every husband and wife has, you were not sure of his words, according to his stories, he did not behave like this with Lilith, But you didn't have any other sources of information either.

Your mistake was to obey at the beginning, but not to fix anything.

"Wait, where are you going?" A woman's voice asked you, it could have been an angel, but you'd never heard it before, never in all the times you'd crossed paths with them. So turning sharply towards the tree, you began to look for the source of the sound. "Don't you stay here for the night?" Again the voice, you could not find the source, you began to look closely at the snake, but it did not move, then, turning around, you came completely to the center of the clearing, by the noise from the bushes you realized that someone was moving towards you.

"Who are you?" That was the second time you felt the fear that filled your trembling voice, the first time you felt that chill down your spine, the hairs rising on your skin, your heart beating and your head spinning, when you contradicted Adam, he hit you, telling you to be quiet, you bowed your head in pain and unwillingness to see him, obeyed, when you remember it, your cheek begins to ache with phantom pain, You hope in life not to be in such a situation. But here is another fear, you are exhausted from the desire to know the secret of the tree, you are afraid of it, but it is pleasant, you have not felt such harsh feelings before.

"I'm Lilith" the girl came out from behind the tree and appeared to you completely, she was beautiful, you could understand why you were expected to conform, and contrary to expectations, you felt calm when you saw her, you didn't feel an enemy in her, even though every second before, you swore that you hated her. "My husband told me that you often cry from helplessness here, I want to help you."

The snake, which you hadn't been paying attention to for a long time, turned into a beautiful angel, you hadn't seen it before, which was strange because the six wings indicated status, and stood next to Lilith.

"I'm Lucifer" he introduced himself, you've heard from the angels about him, he's a rebel and a rebel, he's the one Lilith ran away with, he's the one who heard everything, everything, and every suffering you had, every cry, "Did you ever think that you were forbidden to eat the fruit of this tree for a reason?"

Your hands are shaking, you want to blindly believe the words for help. Since they are the ones who have condescended to you, then they are the ones who can be trusted, right?

Your hands are shaking, you want to blindly believe the words for help. Since they are the ones who have condescended to you, then they are the ones who can be trusted, right? There is a better chance of luck than just staying here under oppression.

"Take this fruit, it will give you knowledge," they said at the same time, their voices soft and pleasant, so you didn't even think too much about taking it.

They disappeared the moment you touched the fruit, now you see that it is a bright red apple, seductively shiny and alluring. You wanted to show it to Adam, you didn't even understand why.

When he saw you, he came up and was about to start screaming, his hand clenched into a fist, but the bright and shiny apple distracted him quite a lot. He was and is a wingman, so he grabbed him faster than you noticed, you didn't even have time to say anything, he did what he swore never to do, he swore to the angels that he would not touch the fruit of the forbidden tree, but right now and here he did it. And then he handed it to you, you have to try it too. The first bite seemed insanely sweet, the second sour, and if Adam didn't seem to like the new taste, you did.

The next time the angels came, you weren't present, you didn't want to, but when they ran up to you and yanked you by the arm, accusing you of committing sin and acts of disobedience, you were silent again. When you were thrown to your knees in the clearing, you saw the seraphim and Adam, standing there satisfied. You've been accused of everything, you've been told that you succumbed to sin and tried it first, made Adam try it, he told it himself.

Then you understand one very important thing, the angels don't see anything. No problem.

You're crying.

For the first time in a long time, you expressed your emotions in a familiar way. Tears of anger at injustice burned your cheeks and eyes.

Adam was the first, but you were blamed because it was more convenient. For the first time in your life, you were made first, but it didn't make you happy, contrary to expectations, you began to hate it.

"That's a blatant lie, Adam! Can't you see that?!" All the angels around you turned to look at you, their eyes like the sharpest spears directed in your direction. Only when you got up from the ground did you want to sit down again, you staggered under the pressure and took a step back. Your eyes darted across the crowd for support, but there was nothing close to the cruel angels. You felt a slight pressure in the lower part of your throat, your legs became cottony, the lump in your throat pressed harder.

You blinked and tried to breathe, the fear, the fear you'd never felt in this life, enveloped you again.

"Oh, poor thing, have you been corrupted by the rebels?" The seraph stepped toward you, assuming her humanized form and holding out her arms to you, "Just acknowledge your temptation."

You walked away from her, you were surrounded by a ring, but okay, you don't care, you just want to be equally far away, fear stopped fluttering in your eyes, now they were filled with a bright fire of anger and hatred. "Admit it?! To admit that the only way out I saw before the adversaries came was death?!"

You began to breathe parts, you were ready to defend your truth, maybe it was the apple, maybe it was the accumulated anger, but you knew you were ready to die, to die for your honor, to die for yourself.

Seraphim stretches out his hands to you, you almost growl at her, but her eyes don't change, you wanted to see benevolence or a desire to help in them.

All you saw was anger at you for disobedience, her eyes cruel and empty, you could see your reflection in them, your open mouth with a kind of bestial grin and squinted eyes.

"Leave her alone, that fool was always crazy" Adam said, and you turned around, taking a step you almost rushed towards him, but when you felt a light touch, you lost control of your body and fell into a sweet sleep. "Calmed down at last" you heard an echo at the edge of your consciousness.

The final crunch, you could say the sound of the final breakdown, you heard in yourself when you felt the solid ground beneath you and Adam's voice rang out in your insanely aching head, at first it seemed to you that it was just a pathetic illusion and you prayed that you would finally be alone. After all, your brow seemed empty and not at all real.

But no.

No blessing has come upon you.

When you conceived your third child, you didn't want to live, you've lived too long. When the angels told you that his name was Seth and forbade you to call him something else, the desire to go through the pain of childbirth and most likely the subsequent conception of the next child, you did not want to. For now, you're hoping to be alone forever.

Why didn't the angels create another woman from the dust of the ground? Why did you, as just a part, have had to suffer many times more, you are weak, you have always been and will always be. Why were you expected to be involved in the lives of these people? You didn't know anything about them, all you did for them was give them names, not even the ones you wanted, but the ones the angels told you.

So when you heard the sound of screaming, you weren't in a hurry, you didn't feel like going at all, but it's not that bad to go for a walk.

Cain has always been like you, you have the most sympathy for him, so when he towered over the body of his dead brother, you didn't run to stop him.

You were glad it was dead, and your loud, high-pitched laughter tearing through your lungs was just proof of that. Then the nearest rock seemed like a good idea to you.

When you ran to your freedom, even if it was a peculiar one, you were genuinely glad, glad for the first time in all the time that you have been living since, you felt it so much for the first time. Suddenly, your legs came together and a sharp pain caused you to fall.

You're not sure what happened next. Did you die in childbirth? Or did Adam tear your flesh apart, killing you and freeing his third son? You did not really want to hope for the adequacy of Adam, for there is nothing to hope for, and you do not care about the condition of your body on this mortal earth.

You thought you had wings, just for a second, but you felt free. And then a thin hand touched your head, and it became heavier, awareness pierced your head, and your body began to feel heavy and your own again.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

You were disappointed that you would be forced to serve again. But you are also happy with the weight of emotions in your head.

As you(@valen-nidk) can see it looks bit same(?) but it was halfwritten when i saw yours idea, sooo, yes)

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Dearly Beloved 🔞 Final.

In which you've got a crush on your coworker- and a stalker problem.

Tags/Warnings: I do not condone any of Jungkooks questionable actions, this is fiction, soft Yandere!Jungkook, stalking, criminal actions (trespassing, stealing), obsession, he's really not quite right in the head, mc is kind of stupid for not involving police but wbk

Additional Chapter Warnings: insert 'oh no' tiktok meme here.

Length: long?

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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He's gonna do it. He has to. What if he misses his chance? You already love him.

You just don't know it yet.

But the entire day at the office, someone steals your attention away. There's always someone standing at your desk, asking pointless things, chasing you around like a slave for things that could've been a fucking e-mail. Why do you need to go and copy something for Yaerin when she's got to working legs?

Maybe if she didn't wear those high heels she constantly trips in she would be able to do her job correctly. Or maybe she's simply a viper, trying to work you down until you burn out, unable to offer this place anymore of your energy. She's done it before. She'll do it again.

People like her disgust him. She's rotten to the core, especially considering how she constantly soils the office seats in the meeting room with her disgusting perfume every time she fucks another one of the higher ups in there. He knows it's happening, has walked in on her and a CEO once- and while he told her that her secret was safe with him, he really only did it to have something up his sleeve if he ever needed her for something.

Does that make him just as rotten as her? Maybe. But all is fair in love and war.

He can't help but fidget at this point, watching how you clearly try and stay nice to a coworker currently attempting to convince you to go drinking with everyone after this shift. You don't like karaoke, you don't even drink in social settings because it makes you anxious- Jungkook knows these things.

He would never ask something of you that you're not comfortable with- he'd take you out for your favorite fast food instead to eat it in the car while listening to crappy pop-songs on the radio. That's what you love.

You've mentioned it before. And he never forgets those things.

Who's that man to you anyways? He can sense the tenseness in your muscles as the guy leans on your table, clearly taking up space and showing that he's not going to leave anytime soon- and Jungkook feels his anger grow inside his chest. You don't like this guy. He needs to get him away from you.

"Uh- Steven, right?" Jungkook meekly asks, the man's face snapping to him with an annoyed smile.

"Yeah. What's up kook?" He jokes as if they're best buddies.

They're not. Jungkook couldn't care less if the guy died in a ditch.

"I think Yaerin wanted to talk to you about something being wrong with the calculations for last month?" Jungkook stammers, needing to uphold his image. And also, he can't help it- his emotions make him quiver a bit, muscles unable to stay still as he rubs his hands. "She said it's urgent." He presses.

That's actually only half a lie. It's not urgent- but that whore did want to talk to him about something. There probably won't be much talking involved except maybe a command to take his dick further down her throat- but Jungkook doesn't care what they do. The only thing he does care about is that he fucking leaves.

Which he does, finally, making Jungkook take in a deep breath as he watches the man walk off.

"Thank you so much." You say behind him, and when Jungkook turns around to look at you, you're gazing at him with such warm eyes he feels his trembling body levitate on nothing but thin air. Everything's alright again- if he could look at you like this for the next years of his life, he'd thank every god in existence for it. "I have.. a hard time telling people no." You sigh, running your hands over your face.

"That's.. that's fine." Jungkook nods, a little awkwardly, smiling back. "I'm not that.. good at it either." He chuckles, and you laugh along, already feeling a lot better.

"Do you.. uhm.." You look at your keyboard for a second before you lick your lips- is that new lipgloss you wear? Or did you eat something that stained them? Jungkook isn't sure, but he wants a taste. "Do you wanna.. grab a drink or two after work with me?" You wonder, rushing the sentence out, and Jungkook's lips part a little, eyes round and open as they stare you down with their boba-pearl charm.

"Uh- yes! Yes, sure!" He nods, closing his mouth, before he pats his pants, looking for his phone. "W-wait, I'll uh- I'll give you my number!" He rushes out, writing it down with trembling hands on a sticky note, before offering it to you, who smiles shyly.

"Alright!" You nod. "I'll.. see you tonight then?" You ask, and Jungkook nods, entire body set aflame.

"Tonight."

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

He fucked up.

He fucked up.

He fucked up.

He's pacing in front of your door because you surely know. You had to have found out- there's no way you didn't. The moment you texted him, he knew you knew-

because he gave you the wrong number. In his panic, he gave you a number you already have.

Is the police on its way? Did you call the cops? Or another friend maybe to beat the shit out of him? You must be terrified, creeped out to no ends, and he can't blame you. What the hell did he even do? This isn't right.

"Jungkook?" You ask, ripping him out of whatever panicked episode he was going through, wild eyes staring at you who's looking at him with an unreadable expression.

It's quiet as you stare each other down, tension able to be cut with a knife for a good while, before you speak.

"You could've.. just said something." You mumble, and Jungkook isn't sure what you mean. There's a variety of things and situations this sentence could apply to- and he doesn't want to out himself if he's not caught yet. If there's just a simple chance of getting away with it, he will take it. "Do you... like me this much?" You ask, and he's swallowing thickly now.

You clearly want an answer, but he doesn't know in what context. What is he supposed to say.

"I mean, I knew something was off when.." you explain, playing with the strings of your hoodie as you fumble with your words. "When.. I wasn't scared." You admit.

"Because it was you all along."

His entire body grows cold, veins freezing over as he gets his confirmation. You know. You know, and you're probably going to tell him next that you've already asked for a restraining order-

Wait. What do you mean by you weren't scared?

"Do you want to.. come in with permission this time?" You ask, trying to lighten the mood, but he's confused. This isn't the reaction he thought he'd get.

"I-" he starts, stammers. "I'm sorry." He presses out. "I don't.. I just-" he fails to find appropriate words because he really doesn't know why he's like this. He knows it's a problem, he knows he's sick- it's obvious, that little sane part of him is aware of the pure wrongness of his actions up until now.

"I know." You say, nodding, before you step aside to let him inside.

"I can't." Jungkook denies. "I can't- I shouldn't, I'm not- don't let me in, don't ever let me in-" he worries, unsure what's wrong with him now. Is this what realization feels like?

If that's the case, he wants to go back to insanity, because this is torturous.

"Its fine." You reassure. "You're.. I'd really hate to see you leave right now." You deny, offering compassion. "You're not well right now." You say, and he agrees.

But he's never been well ever since he met you almost a year ago.

He'll never be well.

"You're too.. you shouldn't. I might hurt you." He explains in a hurry.

"You won't." You deny. You're not sure why you're so convinced about it- maybe because he's had the chance to hurt you so many times and didn't. Or maybe because you're so lonely that you'll take this love no matter how tainted it is.

"Please come inside." You ask once more.

And slowly, with great hesitance, does he enter your home, painfully wringing his hands as if to keep himself occupied.

"When my mom had a brain stroke, years ago, she changed a lot." You explain, walking in to fill up two glasses of water before you set them on the coffee table in the living room area, sitting down on the couch right after- inviting him.

He takes the invitation. His eyes sting with unshed tears.

"She suddenly hated me. Hated almost everyone." You remember. "The doctors said that it can happen. That if we.. injure just a tiny little specific part of our brains, our whole personality changes." You retell, and Jungkook listens, unsure where to look now.

He's been here before, but he's never seen the apartment with the lights on.

"But we still got along until she passed." You nod. "She went to therapy, and reconnected with me and her old friends." You say.

"I'm.. I think I know what you're suggesting-" he says, before he puts his face in his hands. "But I don't want to." He denies.

"Why not?" You worry with a soft tone. "Jungkook, you're not a bad person. You just need help." You offer.

"But what if my love for you is just mental illness?!" He yells out, panicked, eyes now leaking tears. "I don't want them to kill that. I want to stay- I want to stay sick if it means that I still love you.." he weeps, looking at you with desperation.

"Then we'll rebuild it." You shrug easily. "I'll make you love me again." You say, and Jungkook breaks.

"C-can I touch you?" He whimpers from the other side of the couch. "Just a bit?" He wonders, and you nod, opening your arms.

Welcoming him, because he's not a threat or a danger or a monster.

He's just a little sick.

[fifteenminutes-if]

Screaming fans. Blinding stage lights. A multitude of camera flashes.

It's all you've ever wanted. It's all you've ever worked for.

So where did you go wrong?

You were always told you had the X factor.

Something indescribable. Something exceptional.

Perhaps you doubted the truth to those words when you took in your rag-tag group of bandmates in your high school music room. But, your first performance together–for a crowd–was electric.

And you've been pursuing that same feeling ever since.

Now, with a recording contract, a debut album, an EP, and a #1 Billboard hit under your belt, your band is gearing up for the biggest album release of the year. With major publicity and curiosity from fans and critics alike, you can feel the potential thrumming beneath your skin. You're on the edge of a precipice. You're going to be a star.

Until the shocking truth hits the tabloids and–eventually–major news outlets.

Your career falls apart before you in a matter of days.

Your manager resigns, the media turns against you, your fans wage war against each other as lines are drawn in the sands of stardom.

You become a pariah.

How will you rebuild your legacy, and what will you sacrifice to reach the top once again?

Fifteen Minutes follows an artist in the music industry who is on the cusp of a meteoric rise in fame until a leaked scandal lands their reputation in the grave. A story about the ugly underbelly of fame, our glaring mortality, and the way love fails to save us from ourselves. Rated 18+ for explicit language, substance use (and abuse), death, sexual content, and mild violence.

Choose the scandal that ruins your character's career!

Customize your superstar's pronouns, gender, name, stage name, appearance, celebrity persona, their engagement with their fanbase, and more.

Make choices that affect public perception, headlines and the media narrative.

Create your character's previous and future discography, including choosing the genre(s) your character commands and their musical influences.

Deal with the aftermath of a career in ruins and decide on its trajectory/how your character rebuilds their tarnished reputation (if they choose to do so at all).

Romance (or befriend) a colourful cast of characters–all with varying degrees of proximity to fame and obscurity.

[THE PUBLICITY STUNT ◦ primary RO] MADDOX, 27, M/F An internationally beloved megastar with a media target on their back. A long trail of broken hearts and sordid deeds follow them, but their talent overshadows their attitude enough for those in the industry to turn the other way. For now. Caustic, jaded, and charismatic enough to get exactly what they want. Fresh out of a public breakup, they're acting out more than ever and the bitter taste of fame in their mouth might just kill them faster than their long list of enemies. RO Routes: FWB PR relationship or PR relationship with feelings involved. (Engaging in a PR relationship with Maddox is a mandatory plot point, but does not prevent MC from engaging in romance with other characters)

[THE INDUSTRY SWEETHEART ◦ primary RO] CARMEN BAILEY, 30, F ◦ she/her The antithesis to MC—a pop star that rose to fame in her teen years and has maintained relevancy well into her late twenties. Carmen Bailey is the golden girl. Gracious, kind, and praised for being family-friendly yet edgy enough to capture both old and young demographics alike, Carmen holds tightly to her image at the cost of everything else in her life. Sometimes, it's difficult to tell whether Carmen herself knows the difference between her image and herself.

[THE RECLUSIVE SOCIALITE ◦ primary RO] MATEO EL AMRANI, 25, M ◦ he/him Born to a wealthy, legendary family within the heart of Hollywood, Mateo shuns the limelight that comes with his heritage at any given opportunity. Unfortunately, the mystery surrounding him keeps the cameras and the public intrigued and hungry. Only close with his oldest brother, Elias, and has a strained relationship with the rest of his family. Often seen as quiet and emotionless by the media, Mateo in reality feels very deeply and desperately wants to know and be known by those he loves. RO Routes: Ex-friends, ex-lovers, or just acquaintances.

[THE JOURNALIST ◦ primary RO] ROBIN FRASER, 32, M/F A shrewd investigative journalist with the ability to destroy a career or launch someone into stardom. Has a history of major exposés and reliable pop culture predictions under their belt. Needless to say, their words hold a whole lot of power. They value truth above all else, no matter how ugly it may be and while they're privy to the manipulations and machinations of the upper echelons, they're not willing to play the game.

[THE EX BAND MEMBER ◦ primary RO] VAL PARK, 24, M/F A whirlwind of a person that has taken Hollywood by storm since their abrupt departure from your life. Ambitious with a cutting tongue, Val is persistent in their chase for fame. Tends to be reckless, hot-headed, and easily provoked with a deep need for independence and creative freedom. While they're not everyone's cup of tea, they've charmed the right people to gain entry into opportunities that you've only dreamed of. RO Routes: Ex-rivals or ex-friends (can opt to have had a crush on Val in the past). Val was in love with MC in both routes.

DEMO TBA