#Death Is Cheap (trope) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparklingchim · 10 days ago

Text

game on 04 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x oc

word count: 2.6k

tropes: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: 18+

warnings: shy koo 🤭( he can be pookie at times), jimin being extremely chaotic and stirring drama, thigh squeezes <3, talks about first times n doing it raw 😃

summary: jungkook did expect some interrogation by his friends - just not this type.

a/n: we're back!! a bit more chaotic and sillier!!

masterlist

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“How was it to fuck for the first time?”

Jungkook freezes mid-chew.

This guy’s audacity.

Of course. Of course it would be Jimin. The man's allergic to silence. And shame.

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. Mostly because he’s trying not to throw his drink in Jimin’s face in the middle of a packed BBQ restaurant.

Mingyu's trying not to laugh while Chanyeol’s shaking his head like he doesn’t want to know where this conversation will go.

They’re all squeezed around a hot grill at one of those buzzy downtown spots. Neon lights, tiny stools, smoke clinging to everyone’s clothes. And you’d just gone to the restroom with Karina.

Jimin wasted exactly zero seconds.

“I’ll kill you if you say shit like that in front of her,” Jungkook warns, voice low.

“That’s why I’m asking now when she’s not here, duh.”

Jungkook exhales sharply trough his nose, jaw tight. He could just say whatever. Say something vague and let it go. But it pisses him off how casually Jimin talks about you like that.

“I swear to god –” he starts, but Jimin’s already talking over him.

“Did you cry after?” Jimin asks with a gleam in his eye. “Or wait, did you bust after two minutes?”

Mingyu chuckles beside him. “Jimin's got a death wish.”

Chanyeol huffs out a laugh, shoulders shaking. “If he lunges, I’m not stopping him.”

Jimin’s eyes widen with faux innocent. “What are you guys on about? I mean, you’ve probably been pining after her for so long now. Finally hitting it, you must have lost your mind, no?” he asks. “Was it everything you dreamed about when you put your d-”

“What the fuck?” Jungkook interrupts.

“It’s a genuine question!” Jimin insists. “No judgment here. Could’ve been a quickie for the memories. A warm-up round.”

“A quickie for the memories,” Mingyu repeats, snorting in pure disbelief.

“Yeah! Like, you finally get to sleep with the girl you’ve been obsessed with for months. Brain’s probably short-circuiting. Whole thing’s over before it starts.”

If Jungkook doesn’t keep his breathing in check, there will be blood.

“I’m not telling any of you my business anymore.” Jungkook reaches for his beer, downing a long pull. “Especially not about her. Not like that.”

Even if this whole scenario would be real, it wouldn’t be their business. Wouldn’t be something he’d toss around for laughs between food and cheap beer. You weren’t some hookup story to debrief after a night out.

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “So you didn’t last two minutes?”

Jungkook just stares at him.

Jimin grins, delighted. “That silence is loud.”

“I will literally strangle you with your own hoodie,” Jungkook says flatly.

“Look, I’m just saying,” Jimin goes on, because he loves pain apparently. “With that kind of tension, all that build-up… I figured the second she touched you, it was game over.”

“Bro,” Mingyu coughs. “You want him to kill you.”

“I’m romanticising!” Jimin defends. “The human body can only take so much emotional blue-balling. You don’t think he dreamed about it? Like full cinematic fantasy? Slow-mo? Background music? Montage of hand-holding and then bam, real life?”

Jimin doesn’t know when to shut up. Now he’s gone and put the image in Jungkook’s head – you, laid out pretty and flushed beneath him, hair messy on his pillow, your fingers locked with his while you whisper his name all breathy and soft.

Jungkook presses the cold beer bottle against his temple. This is fine. Everything’s fine. Nothing’s on fire.

Chanyeol speaks, voice amused. “Pretty sure Jimin’s just bitter.”

“Jealous,” Mingyu corrects.

“Both,” Jungkook mutters.

“Aw,” Jimin pouts dramatically. “You’re not gonna tell us anything?”

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head, tone final. “Not a thing.”

He hopes the topic dies there, but of course not. Not when his brain is still glitching with the image of you beneath him, tangled sheets and tangled limbs. A pretty mess. Just for him.

“So... serious, huh?” Jimin nods slowly, but then a cheeky smile curves his lips. “Serious enough to do it raw the first time?”

Mingyu chokes on his drink.

Chanyeol doesn’t even try to get involved. “You’re on your own, man,” he mutters, turning away from Jimin.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Jimin laughs nervously, hands raised like he’s innocent. “It’s a joke! I’m joking!”

“Shut up before I throw a bottle at you.”

“I feel like you wouldn’t react this way if you had fucked raw.”

“You’re fucking dead.” Jungkook stands up. Chair scraping back with enough force to make a point.

And that’s exactly when you and Karina return, both mid-laugh, until you feel the shift in the air and look at the boys confusedly.

“Uh…” Karina blinks. “What’s happening?”

“You’re just in time for Jimin’s funeral,” Chanyeol says, raising his glass like a toast.

“Has the number 2 played a significant role in your life recently, ___?” Jimin asks.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” You glance at Jungkook, asking him for help.

Jungkook waves it off, sitting down. “He’s being weird again.”

“Don’t overthink it. Yes or no?” Jimin raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Uh, no?”

He sighs, dramatically disappointed. “Case closed. I’m done here.”

You slide into your seat next to Jungkook, Karina settling in beside you.

“What did I miss?” you whisper to Jungkook.

He dips his head closer, muttering back, “Just locker room bullshit. You don’t wanna know.”

“Was is gross?”

“Very gross.” Jungkook pats your head, slowly reaching down to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Your brain’s too precious for that.”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches up anyway.

Chanyeol sighs loudly, leaning back in his chair. “I love this so much,” he declares with a satisfied smile.

You glance over. “What?”

“It just all makes sense now, you know?” He gestures vaguely between Jungkook and you. “Like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.”

Jungkook grins. He looks over at you, but you don’t look up at him. Your gaze is cast downwards, a shy smile creeping up your face. Cute.

Chanyeol pats his chest. “Just makes me really happy in my heart.”

It’s kind of funny, Jungkook thinks. How none of your friends questioned the sudden relationship announcement. They just took it in stride, like it had been a long time coming. Like they’d all just been waiting for the two of you to get your act together.

An unspoken sense of we were wondering when you’d finally admit it to us.

He just hopes the breakup goes down just as easily – like, oh well, they gave it a shot, and now they’re back to being friends, no drama.

“Chanyeol gets too sappy when he’s drunk,” Mingyu says.

“I love seeing people find each other. Makes me so happy.”

Okay, maybe Chanyeol is not gonna take the breakup that well.

You’re definitely gonna have to find a soft way to break it to him when the time comes.

“You have a soft heart,” you say, reciprocating his warm smile.

“You two work. Like, it makes sense. Real yin and yang shit,” he declares with complete sincerity. “I speak from the heart,” he adds, tapping his chest. “From here.” His gaze bounces between Jungkook and you. “Don’t you dare hurt it by breaking up.”

“Damn,” Jungkook mutters. “Pressure’s on.”

Your head turns to him then, a little too fast.

Karina lets out a surprised laugh at Jungkook’s reaction.

“Excuse him, ___,” Mingyu cuts in, eyebrows raised as he side-eyes Jungkook. “He’s new to relationships.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Jungkook quickly defends himself. He stares into your eyes. “You know how I meant it.”

How did he fuck it up so quick?

“I know,” you reply gently, but there’s something sharp in your eyes. Jungkook realises that this your way of telling him to not slip up. To act, pretend properly.

He shifts slightly, more alert now, then reaches for your thigh. His hand lands warm and familiar, fingertips pressing into your skin just enough to coax you closer. You move without hesitation, slotting into the space he makes for you.

“Am I allowed to ask a question?” Jimin’s voice cuts through the quiet.

Jungkook’s head snaps towards him, meeting him with a challenging expression. “You’re on thin fucking ice.”

“Why?” you ask, curiously glancing between the two.

“Your boyfriend’s a little sensitive,” Jimin says, sniffing a little laugh as he teases Jungkook.

Jungkook’s hand around your thigh tightens. His fingers flex, pressing into the curve of your thigh.

“How annoying have you been to Jungkook for him to be so upset?” you ask amused.

“I swear I’m innocent,” Jimin says.

“I’ll kill you.”

You brush your fingers over Jungkook’s hand, gently running them over his arm a little too. You feel the tension in his muscles shift beneath your touch.

“I just wanna know who said I love you first.” Jimin’s voice is annoyingly sweet. “That too much for you too, Jungkook?”

Despite wanting to strangle Jimin, Jungkook feels a wave of nerves rush up at the question. You didn’t rehearse this part. He glances down at you, and you’re already looking up at him with the same wide-eyed helplessness.

“That’s obvious,” Mingyu cuts in confidently.

Is it?

“Jungkook’s too obsessed with ___ to not spill it every single second they spend with each other,” Chanyeol says.

Reasonable, Jungkook thinks.

“Okay, but,” Karina chimes in. “What if they haven’t said it yet?”

“What the fuck?” Chanyeol grimaces like the thought disgusts him.

You start giggling at his expression.

“Be serious,” he goes on, waving a hand. “Have you seen them? They’re literally glued together.”

Karina leans forward across the table, peering at you two. Jungkook follows her gaze, then blinks down at your lap.

His hand is still on your thigh. Your hand is over his. Neither of you move.

Jungkook brushes his thumb over your skin. “We’re a little touchy.”

You play along, all soft smile. “You’re clingy. Which is why you said I love you first.”

“That sounds like me,” Jungkook agrees.

“Seeing Jungkook as a clingy boyfriend was not on my bingo card for this year,” Mingyu remarks.

You lean into Jungkook, resting your head briefly on his shoulder. “He is so clingy. Gets all pouty when I don’t text back within five minutes.”

Jungkook scoffs, squeezing your thigh. “Don’t do too much now,” he muffles into your hair when he turns his head to give you a little peck.

“Anway, this boy doesn’t like to be called cute and clingy too many times. Can’t take it that often. Can’t handle the truth in high doses,” you sigh.

“It’s called maintaining a rep.”

“What’s so bad about being a golden retriever boyfriend?”

“No, I’m fine with being a golden retriever boyfriend,” Jungkook answers. “But,” he adds. “I am a tattooed golden retriever. That’s different.”

Everyone laughs, and Jungkook feels your fingers subtly squeeze his under the table. It’s a bit ridiculous, this whole act, but it’s also weirdly easy. Fun, even. He glances down at you, catching your eyes for a second.

He wouldn’t have done this with anyone but you.

“Spill. Now,” you demand when you’re back in your dorm and Karina slipped into her room, leaving Jungkook and you alone in the living room.

“Spill what?” Jungkook asks as he wanders into the tiny kitchen. He starts poking through your cabinets. “For a med student, you sure you just wanna give your body ramyeon? Think that’s the healthiest lifestyle?”

“Not the healthiest but the cheapest,” you shoot back. You close the cabinet before he can open the next one and hop onto the counter in front of him, blocking his path. “Now stop snooping through my sad pantry and tell me what you boys talked about when Karina and I were gone.”

It’s been gnawing at you the entire way home. You’ve been pondering what the boys talked about the entire time. Especially knowing Jimin. Nothing wholesome comes out of his mouth.

“I wasn’t talking about anything.” Jungkook plants his hands on the counter, one on each side of your thighs “Jimin was the one asking bullshit questions.”

“Like?”

“You’re gonna make me repeat it?”

“It was about me too, no? I wanna hear it.”

“I meant it when I said your brain’s too precious for that filth.”

“I’ve heard and seen enough throughout our friendship already. You think I’m fragile now?”

“Not fragile,” he murmurs. “Just selective about what you let into that pretty head. Don’t wanna ruin it.”

“Stop using your charm and tell me.” You draw him closer by the hoodie strings and force him to focus.

“He asked how it was.”

“It?” You blink confused.

“You know. It.” He looks at you pointedly, trying to make you get through his expression. When he realises that his attempt is fruitless, he sighs defeatedly. “Our first time. How our first time went.”

“Ahh,” you hum, the realisation dawning on you. “But why are you acting like this? You’re never this shy when it comes to that stuff.” You tilt your head just a little, catching the exact moment when the tiniest flush blooms across Jungkook’s cheeks, delicate and rosy. “Are you blushing?”

Cute.

It makes something warm flicker in your chest, stupid and soft.

You didn’t realise it could be this easy to make Jungkook blush.

“I’m not,” he mutters, quickly looking to the side.

You giggle, turning his head back to you by grabbing his chin. “How come?”

“’Cause we’re talking about us.”

“I mean, it was obvious they’d ask stuff like that,” you shrug.

“It wasn’t just that.”

“Oh?”

“Jimin went on and asked if we had ever done it raw.”

You let out a little gasp. “That’s freaky.”

Jungkook takes a step back. “You think doing it raw is freaky?”

You assess Jungkook through squinted eyes. “You’ve probably done that before, right? You’re freaky like that.”

“Big yes on being a freak and big no to doing it raw.” He steps back into your space and pokes your side “Lowkey offended you think I’d risk it when I’ve never even been in a proper relationship.”

“I’m proud of you, Koo.” You pat his shoulder. “I deemed you responsible enough for safe sex, but I did have my doubts, I’ll be honest.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I like to fuck but I’m not stupid.”

You hear light footsteps, then your name called out. “___?” Karina peeks around the hallway corner and promptly freezes when she sees you.

“Oh, I – I thought you were in your room,” she stammers, eyes flicking between you and Jungkook. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” She smiles awkwardly, blinking fast.

For a second, you’re confused. Until you realise that you’re perched on the counter, Jungkook between your legs and his arms caging you in.

It hits you then, how intimate this looks. Like you’re actually a couple caught in the middle of something. Even if Jungkook and you weren’t trying to pretend.

“It’s okay,” you reassure.

Jungkook draws back, hands dropping. “I was about to leave anyway.”

“Oh, no! Don’t leave! Stay! I was just – I don’t even know – but please don’t leave.”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook laughs, already moving toward the door.

You hop off the counter and trot after him, catching Karina mouthing a panicked I’m so sorry at you before she retreats into her room and shuts the door.

“She’s going to feel bad about this for the rest of the week,” you tell him.

“Tell her even though I am obsessed with you, I wasn’t about to take you in the kitchen while she’s at home.”

“You’re not freaky like that?” you tease.

Jungkook short-circuits for a moment, momentarily even stares at your lips, before snapping back to his usual, cocky self.

“Wanna find out?”

It takes you all of ten seconds to wish him a dry good night and shove him out of your apartment.

“Can’t wait to see you at my parents’ this weekend and introduce you as my girlfriend!” he calls out from the hallway.

702 notes · View notes

luffington · 1 year ago

Note

hiii im the anon from way back when now that ur at whole cake i wanted to spin the block on my sabo request from earlier (of course only if you want to no pressure!)

✧.* art credit!

➤ prompt: can i request a sabo x f!reader who’s a strawhat who joins the revolutionary army alongside robin during the timeskip and immediately hits it off and becomes close friends with him while on baltigo and then reunites with him in dressrosa [fwb trope perhaps?? 👀👀]

➤ pairing: sabo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.5k

➤ warnings: dom!sabo, semi-public sex, praise kink, thigh riding, facial, friends with benefits, fluff, fem reader

in episode of sabo he officially entered the colosseum competition but it’s never explained in canon so let’s pretend he somehow snuck in before the final battle hehe

i really hope you like this after waiting for so long!! :') i've only seen him in dressrosa so i'm sorry if this isn't accurate to his character in future arcs! (also if you can't tell i Love koala <3)

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Soldiers with guns ready to fire surrounded you the moment you landed on Baltigo. In a panic, you insisted that you weren’t an intruder. You didn’t even know where you were intruding. One moment you were on Sabaody Archipelago and then Bartholomew Kuma touched you and suddenly you were soaring through the air in a giant bubble — and that made them pause. Kuma would never send an enemy to their headquarters. The paw-shaped crater left behind was undeniable proof of your story, and your bounty poster confirmed that you were a Straw Hat Pirate instead of a spy. With no plausible way to get back to your crew, you decided to temporarily join the Revolutionary Army.

About a week later, Sabo returned from a successful assignment and was enthusiastically welcomed back by everyone at the base. He seemed nice enough, but as the chief of staff, he obviously had more pressing issues to attend to than getting to know a new recruit. He would give you a friendly wave whenever he saw you, but nothing more.

Then the news of Ace’s death came and all of his memories flooded back. He was absolutely heartbroken, but you didn’t want to intrude on such a personal moment for a man you hardly knew, so you decided to leave him alone. Instead, you begged to borrow a ship to find your captain, who must’ve also been suffering terribly.

As soon as Sabo heard you mention Luffy, he remembered that you were a Straw Hat – and you’d been with them long enough to have met Ace in Alabasta. He quickly latched onto you and you were more than happy to tell him stories about his brothers, as well as your brief encounter with Garp. Robin arrived at Baltigo a few days after Luffy’s appearance in the newspaper and gladly joined your conversations, but slyly gave the two of you lots of alone time.

You liked Sabo more and more each time you talked to him. It didn’t take long to notice his similarities to his family – they all had the same reckless confidence, happy-go-lucky attitudes, and admirable dedication to whatever cause they put their mind to. Even Dragon shared these qualities under his stony exterior (and you realized in horror that you now knew that entire insane family).

But the blonde was flirty. And touchy. The friendly hugs he gave you grew longer and more intimate; his hands lingered on your shoulders and brushed against your thighs. You were delighted to reciprocate – though you had no romantic feelings for him, he was undeniably gorgeous. Sexual tension between you grew until it exploded with the help of several bottles of cheap sake and a shared hotel room. He pinned you down and fucked you dumb until you were covered in cum and screaming his name. Poor Koala in the neighboring room was traumatized, especially by the sound of your bedframe collapsing.

Sabo became your best friend and your best stress reliever, effortlessly transitioning from casual conversations to shoving his dick down your throat. Being in the Revolutionary Army was incredibly dangerous, of course, but Sabo always made sure you were well-protected and cared for. However, you still had no doubts about returning to the Straw Hats after two years had passed. You were sad to leave your friend, but he promised you’d see each other again.

You didn’t realize it would be so soon.

Only two weeks after you departed for Sabaody, you found yourself wandering the colorful cobblestone streets of Dressrosa in an admittedly terrible disguise. Separated from your crew and searching for the SMILE Factory despite having no leads. Everything about the country, its citizens, and Law’s supposedly flawless plan felt strange.

But what caught you off-guard the most was a hooded figure passing by and grabbing your arm, leaning close to your ear, and using a very familiar voice to whisper, “Hey.”

A hint of soft blonde hair peeking out from under the fabric nearly gave you a heart attack. “Sabo?!”

He quickly clamped a gloved hand over your mouth, shutting you up immediately. He brought his face close to yours, whispering in a teasing tone, “Are you trying to blow my cover? Naughty girl.” Your cheeks burned bright red.

Sabo glanced around cautiously, but no one in the streets spared a fleeting glance at the two of you. The majority of Dressrosans were further down the block in a large open plaza, watching the Colosseum match broadcast in real time. The opening ceremony had just finished and the first round was beginning. He didn’t give a shit – he only needed to pay attention to Hack in round two.

“C’mon, let’s talk somewhere else.” The blonde grabbed your hand and led you down a back alley hidden behind a row of shops. Once you were sufficiently shielded by a stack of wooden storage crates, he pulled down the hood of his brown cloak.

“What the hell are y–” Soft lips slammed against your own as he caged you against the wall, pulling you into a heated kiss and biting your bottom lip. Sabo was as unpretentious as ever, not wasting any time to take what he wanted. Fingers trailing up your thigh in a very obvious way before he grabbed the meat of your ass.

“Figured it was better than a hug,” he laughed. A beautiful sound that you missed hearing every day. He kissed along your cheek then nipped at your earlobe, causing you to flinch. “You know I’m here to stop Doflamingo’s weapons trade. I don’t have a lot of time, but I needed to see you and make sure you’re doing okay.”

Sabo paused to run his hand down your chest until it reached your clothed core, palming you through your pants. You whimpered and instinctively bucked into his touch.

“And have a quickie. It’s been too long since I felt this pretty cunt. Don’t know when I’ll get a chance again,” he growled against your neck, using two fingers to stroke the outline of your pussy lips and push the rough fabric tighter against you.

“B-but we’re in the middle of the street…” You glanced at the sunny entrance to the alleyway, heart racing at the thought of someone seeing you.

“I wouldn’t say the middle,” the blonde chuckled, gesturing to the desolate space around you. “Besides, with everything happening today, I don’t think public indecency is anyone’s biggest concern.”

You bit your lip anxiously, but the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours and his lips moving down your neck overrode all rational thoughts. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t fantasize about him pounding into your cunt every night since you left the Army. Plus, his cloak was large enough to completely shield your bodies from any prying eyes. To any passerby, you would look like a couple engaging in a little too much PDA – not a rare sight in the kingdom of love.

“W-why–” Your breath hitched as he shoved his hands under your top to roughly squeeze your breasts. “Why did Dragon decide to do this operation now? The meeting we had was–” You tried your best to stifle a lewd moan, the soft leather of his gloves not hiding the roughness of his fingers tugging at your nipples. “W-was weeks ago…”

“Can we please not talk about Dragon while I’m trying to fuck you?” Sabo pouted cutely, making you giggle. “We’ll have a real conversation later, I promise. I need my little stress relief toy right now.” He shoved one of his knees between yours, tensed thigh pressing insistently on your cunt. “Grind that cute pussy on my leg. Show me how much she missed me.” His eyes darkened when you immediately complied, letting out cute whimpers at the delicious friction. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Loud cheering echoed down the street, likely related to the tournament, and you instinctively turned towards the sound. Sabo gripped your chin and forced you to face him again.

“Hey. Eyes on me.” You nodded obediently, and he whispered “good girl” before shoving his tongue down your throat. You tangled your fingers in his soft blonde locks, running your thumb over his scarred cheek affectionately. He truly was so handsome.

Deciding your pace was too slow, the blonde grabbed your hip and roughly guided your core back and forth on his thigh. His noticeable bulge strained against the fabric of his elegant cadet gray pants – even undercover, he was as well-dressed as always. “Sabo, please…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you exactly what you want.” He unbuckled his belt and let his cock spring free, bouncing against his stomach and standing proudly at full hardness. Your pants were abruptly yanked down to your knees next. Sabo didn’t miss the chance to take off his glove and swipe a finger through your wet folds, making you shiver. “You’re already dripping.”

“You’re one to talk,” you smirked, playfully running your palm up his length and wiping away the precum beading at the top.

“Such a fucking tease.” He groaned, pretty eyes darkening. “Lift your leg for me.”

You kicked your pants off completely and did as you were told. Sabo hooked his hand under your knee, tilting your pelvis towards him for the best angle to fuck into you. Paused to adjust his cloak, making sure you were completely concealed, and looked around for any prying eyes. Once he was satisfied with your relative privacy, he lined up his cock with your entrance, tauntingly tapping the head against your puffy clit.

“Wait, Sabo. Condom.”

“Don’t have any.” He shrugged and your eyes widened. “What? They’re not exactly essential on an espionage mission.”

You frowned, but it was too late to find one now. “Just don’t cum inside, okay?”

“‘Course not.” He chuckled lightheartedly, contrasting with the rough way he thrust his dick inside your cunt, fully sheathing it inside in one go. It stretched out your pussy perfectly, hitting every sensitive spot inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined, throwing your head back, realizing too late how loud you were and quickly covering your own mouth. Sabo’s gaze darkened with lust and a smug sense of pride that he made you cry out like a whore.

“Weren’t you concerned about being caught?” The blonde snickered, grinding his hips against yours in slow circles. He yanked your hand away, pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, then thrust his removed glove in your mouth. Not caring that it would definitely be soaked in spit by the end.

Sabo braced one hand on the wall next to your head and fucked you hard and fast, bullying your cunt and smacking his balls against your skin with every thrust. Even without any time pressure, this was how you normally had sex – he was always impatient and greedy to take whatever he wanted, and you were more than willing to give him everything.

The filthy sound of your wet walls squelching around his cock and his debauched groans filled your ears. You clenched onto his overcoat for stability and buried your face in the crook of his neck, but he tangled his fingers in your hair and yanked your head back. “Eyes on me, remember?”

You nodded, unable to do anything but let out muffled moans around his glove. Eyes glazed over and drool dripped down your chin. Your fucked-out expression went straight to his cock and made him rut into you even faster, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix. Feeling himself getting close, he flicked your clit and rubbed tight circles on the bundle of nerves. He leaned forward to kiss a sensitive spot right under your jaw – you never told him that he couldn’t give you hickies.

“You gonna cum?” A rhetorical question. He could definitely feel how soaked you were around him, how you desperately met his thrusts and sucked his dick in even deeper. Your body would’ve collapsed long ago if he wasn’t there to pin you in place and use you like a fuckdoll. The blonde whispered absolute filth with interludes of praise into your ear to help you to the edge even faster.

Divine pleasure consumed your body as you hit your peak, cunt tightening around Sabo’s cock and nearly causing him to empty his balls inside of you. He carefully restrained himself to honor your request – and he had a better idea, anyways.

Once the aftershocks of your orgasm had subsided and you descended back to reality, Sabo pulled out of you. His dick was angry red and painfully hard. After removing the sticky glove from your mouth, he commanded, “On your knees.”

Your shaky legs gave out and you sank to the ground, knees hitting the solid stone street hard enough to bruise, but you barely noticed. The blonde positioned his cock in front of your face and rapidly jerked off inches away from you. You opened your mouth obediently and he murmured “fuck” underneath his breath.

He bit his lip hard enough to bleed when he came seconds later. Thick strings of white painted your face and barely landed in your mouth. You looked up at him with cum on your eyelashes, slightly annoyed but incredibly aroused. “Sorry,” he panted with a grin, and clearly not apologetic at all. “You’re just so goddamn sexy like this.”

You swallowed the drops of cum lucky enough to land in your mouth. Sabo wiped the rest off with his cloak — it was his mess to clean, after all – then pinched your cheek lovingly. He helped you fix your clothes and hair to make sure it didn’t look like you just had rough sex in a random alleyway.

A muffled Transponder Snail rang in his coat pocket. He looked at you for permission, and you grinned and told him he could answer it.

“I’ve been trying to reach you!” Koala’s annoyed voice shouted through the Snail. You were obviously too preoccupied to hear any of her previous attempts to call him. “Hack lost to some green-haired weirdo. Can you figure out a way to get inside the Colosseum? We need to find that underground port.”

Sabo quickly handed you the Snail. “Hi, Koala,” you giggled.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” She brightened up immediately at the sound of your voice. There was a small pause as she took a moment to process, then the Snail mimicked her furious expression. “Sabo, what the hell? Really?!”

He laughed loudly. “I couldn’t help myself. But I’ll go now.”

“You better.” Koala grumbled, then said goodbye to you in a much nicer tone.

The blonde turned to you apologetically, but you just smiled and said, “Go win the Flare-Flare Fruit. You deserve it.” Then gave him a good-luck peck on the cheek, which made his face light up into a giant grin. “And find Luffy while you’re at it!”

After the chaos of the day was over, Sabo met you and the Straw Hats at Kyros’s house, where you were finally able to sit down and chat for a while. Before he left, he repeated his promise that he’d see you again no matter what.

#and i finally got to mention kuma in a fic :3 #sabo smut #sabo x reader #sabo imagine #sabo imagines #revolutionary sabo #sabo #one piece x reader #one piece smut #mine #my fics #request #anon

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katerinadeannika · 8 months ago

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Notes after watching the full Behind the Scenes of Agatha All Along posted on Nov 13th 2024:

There was no way they could have written an ending for Agatha that did not involve death.

I have been saying this to all the naysayers from the get-go, to all the people making posts about being done or fed up or angry about the ending, or how it makes no sense, or how they should have could have done something different and been fine story wise. The behind the scenes confirmed my point.

The main through line for the entire show was the theme of Death; of Agatha never being able to escape it. Where she both loves and hates death and Death, the concept and the woman. Where she's been running from Death for centuries, but Death came for her son and was always coming for her the second she slowed down.

Every completed trial meant someone would die. Billy created the road based off the rumors and witch lore. And the only rumors out in the witch world were that someone knew someone else's aunt/relative/friend who had undertaken the road and never returned. In reality, that was Agatha's doing. But to Billy, it meant that somehow, the Road took its toll on them. And when the coven traveled it, the Road exacted the same price that Billy expected it to. Death or near death at every trial.

The first trial killed Sharon. The second gave Alice her power back and then Billy almost died (and probably would have if Agatha hadn't pleaded with Rio on his behalf, if the coven hadn't worked together, and if Billy hadn't made the Road with his own powers. Some interesting combo of the all the above). The third trial killed Alice who was trying to save Agatha. And the fourth trial killed Lilia and the Salem Seven.

Jac said she intentionally wrote it where Death was a very real thing that everyone in the show had to come to terms with.

And for Jen Kale, her gift was already dead, and she was supposed to resurrect it and take her own power back. She escaped because after Agatha's trial, the fifth one, someone DID die.

And this time it was Agatha.

Agatha had avoided it every other time by either being saved, or having the rest of the coven as fodder for death.

But in the end, when she could have left once again, she must decide who has to pay the final price for her invention of the Road. The Road that she has used to kill and lure countless witches to their doom over the past few centuries.

She can save the boy she has come to love and mentor after the loss of her son. Or, she can leave once again. And so she makes the final moment of self sacrifice, and chooses the final victim of the Road: Herself

She has been running from Death for centuries.

For Agatha's story to have a thematic ending that wasn't cheap or manufactured, she had to stay true to that through-line. That's how writing works. You find your themes. You write about and explore them. And you have a final consequence that determines if it's a positive arc or a negative arc for your main character.

They chose for Agatha to have a positive arc. A moment of final growth. To end the show on her finally making the right decision, even at the cost of the life she's sustained through countless centuries and via countless deaths.

There was no way the show could have ended any other way.

PS: There is no excuse to hate on it. At all.

It doesn't meet any of the criteria for the 'Bury your gays' trope. It doesn't even end Agatha’s story. But it does provide expertly written, well thought out, thematically poignant endings for all the characters in a way that satisfies their personal journey—throughout the show and the centuries.

And I am so glad they made it, and that it ended how it did. I wouldn’t want it any other way. As a writer. As an editor. As a viewer. And as a lesbian.

Agatha All Along is a masterpiece in TV writing. And I can’t wait for more.

PSS: Watch the Behind the Scenes on youtube that Marvel just posted. It’s super good and includes all sorts of info to help with fic writing and just general understanding of the writing and show creation. Also lots of Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza in interviews!

TLDR: Quit complaining and griping about the ending. It was written beautifully. The reason you got so invested is because of all the heavy death elements throughout that made things mean something. Embrace it. Or find media where you were the target audience. Cause if you couldn’t handle something well written that ends like this, you weren’t the target audience. And that’s okay. But move on before you keep griping and causing issues with the community and the cast.

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gremlingottoosilly · 2 years ago

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Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 2

You listen to the story about those woods. Turns out, real life is way, way nastier than any of those stories. Don't lose your head.

TW for the chapter: Blood, gore, dead bodies, slut shaming(usage of outdated horror tropes), knife play, blood play, mentions of STDs

— Do you know what animal is this?

The body of a small creature – rodent, probably, you don’t think there could be any other animals around – was lying on the road near the place you decided to stay for the night. The “Coolest fucking thing in the world that is also just a few hours from here” was still a few hours from here because it was fucking dark and you already left your car on the sidewalk, hoping no one would steal it because honestly, why would anyone need this pile of burning crap.

— According to the “Basic Bestiary of Austrian Animals” it might be an extremely rare Austrian Marmont.

You fucking hated Max. Mostly because his form of being different was “being an intelligent asshole” and also because he would never forget to rub the fact you were behind him in the grades into your face.

— Waaaaaaait, a mamont? But it’s small! You have to give Karen – blonde, tan, tall, straight C everywhere except for her chest (then it would be D everywhere) – credit. As adorably silly as she was, she was still the only person you could have a meaningful conversation with. Except for the times when she was fucking your boyfriends. Or when she forgot that you don’t have a boyfriend so he doesn’t need to fuck random people just to spite you.

— Perhaps, if we are extremely lucky, a European edible dormouse, also known as…

— Fuuuuuck, people eat this thing? Yuck! Austria is like, literally the worst country EVER!

You feel like every second of this conversation, even though you are just listening to it, is going to take 10 years from your life span. You never knew why the two got together – maybe because Max loved fucking someone dumber than he is, and Gretchen loved placing the responsibility for her actions on her beloved sociopathic boyfriend.

You wanted to say that this was literally a fucking squirrel, but you know better. Not like anyone is going to listen anyway.

You get to the supposed location a few hours – already deep in the night, everything that you hate about forests – unkept environment, horrible living conditions, mosquitos, and occasionally wild animals are making you squirm each time your butt switches the place and you involuntarily sit on the cold, damp ground. You lick your lips, trying to adjust in the position in front of the fire. Fire that you probably shouldn’t be making in the middle of the private territory, but Chad said the place belongs to some weird hillbillies who wouldn’t care about a bunch of college grads having fun.

You just finished the last of your coke – mixed with cheap whiskey and rum you got back at home, you feel just buzzy and fuzzy and relaxed enough to at least try to engage with people around you. Just didn’t want to make Jenny embarrassed – she was the one to vouch for you, even though you didn’t want to go camping with them.

— I heard there is something happening in these woods.

Everyone around you groans and you comply, groaning too. Chad has the worst storytelling voice and even Marty – the resident stoner of the group – is visibly unhappy about having to listen to his dumb jokes. Brace yourself for at least twenty minutes of dumb story with a cheap attempt to scare you.

— You talk like those locals. What can be here except for drunkards?

— Very fucking funny, Marty, I hope you laugh at people’s death too.

Everyone groans again.

— Shut up and let me finish! So, there is something hiding in those woods…legends…

— What legends? This place was built like 20 years ago.

— Shut the fuck up, Max! It’s the legends before the town even was built. In those very forests…

— Forests? I thought it was like, just a suburban area.

— It’s wild Austrian woods, why I would put you to adventure in the fucking suburbs?

— You’re a suburb baby.

— Shut it! God, I hate you guys. Alright, so…these woods are populated with…creatures.

— Ooooh, like the mammoth we saw!

— Karen, seriously, what the fuck? These woods are filled with motherfucking human-eating killers, not just some animals!

— Then why do you say “creatures”? — Because it makes for a good fucking story! God, everyone, this is why none of you are studying creative writing!

— Only your parents have money to pay for it.

— This is why you all are fucking losers. Alright…god, I hate you. People went missing in these woods. Mostly tourists, never the local population – this is why police don’t care about it. Bodies were found, half-eaten, rotting under that very tree!

— Which tree? There are like 10 of them just here.

— More like 100.

— Under every fucking tree! — That’s a lot of bodies.

Chad groans, visibly aggressive. You just tilt your head to the side, only talking to him once before taking the last sip of your Coke and standing from your place. You wanted to take a chance to see those woods before you’d be going even deeper the next night – Chad was planning quite an adventure in the wilderness, to your dismay, and you wanted to have a chance to see the cool part of nature before you would grow tired of it.

To your surprise, Karen was nowhere to be seen. Knowing the girl, she is far too innocent and dumb to be here – probably ran away to not listen to scary stories or got lost while trying to find a good place to pee. You sigh, feeling that it is your responsibility to pick her up – she is Marty’s girlfriend, but he is too stoned out to notice her disappearance yet.

You stumble on your foot – alcohol makes you dizzy, makes you relaxed and smiley. You don’t even care that no one came to ask what the fuck you are doing – as far as you aware, they all can go and fuck themselves while you have a lot more fun things to do. Like searching for a drunk girl in the forest in the middle of the night…yeah, you really should work on your definition of fun.

You already a good few minutes into the forest. Nothing but trees, not even a squirrel or a wolf pocking around to feast on yummy bodies. Not like you wanted to see a wolf, of course, but meeting with the wild life could be fun. You’d like to see a bear, for example.

(And you will – just a bit later)

— Karen? Karen, are you alright? You decide to scream for her once you are far enough from your friends that they won’t question why you are so concerned for her. Poor girl was obviously scared and you didn’t want to embarrass her even further, so you stroll through the woods, an empty bottle of coke in your hand – not sure why you didn’t threw it away. Littering isn’t nice, after all.

— Karen? You’re scaring everyone, come out!

You scream some more – she is probably lost, deep enough that she can’t even hear you. You try not to panic, try to be the reasonable friend – it’s usually Jenny’s task but here you are, trying to be the cool one of your friend group. You yell for Karen some more, listening closely to every little sound that could be easily taken as her whimper or cry for help.

Nothing.

Just how far can a scared drunk girl go? Probably not further away than you – you’re already starting to get tired and you knew that Sidhey got far drunker than you are. Which means she could lay here, somewhere, passed from the exhaustion, freezing, with forest animals feasting on her…no, no, you can’t think like that. She is fine, she has to be, or you are going to get into so much trouble with the police and her parents. You never told any of your families about the trip, so you wouldn’t want to get in trouble what ould require their assistance.

You take a step into deeper part of the forest – and you think you saw a glimpse of…something. Metal, probably, might be her phone or that atrociour hair dye she is using to stop everyone from calling her a mouse. You also think you could hear a sound of someone breathing – heavily, gruffly, definitely a male, but you don’t really know how. You squint, trying to see through the trees.

You see Karen.

— Karen? God, you scared everyone…well, me. Where the fuck have you been?

You smile and wave at her, your drunken state isn’t allowing you to see that, for some weird reason, she isn’t waving back. Or moving, so to speak. She stared at you with that terrified expression of hers and you tilt your head to the side, not udneratanding why is she like that. Something happened between her and others?

You take another step back and Karen falls.

Well…her head falls, anyway.

There are a lot of feelings right now. Panic, panic, panic, a little bit of panic and, oh, who could have guessed, another riel of panic which makes you freak the fuck out and sprint – towards her. Maybe she will be alive if you could put her head back on her neck really-really fast?

— Is it too late to convince you this is all a dream?

The voice.

You don’t recognize it – it’s distorted and quiet under the mask and you don’t know anyone int his fucking place anyways. The voice is weirdly happy, weirdly laughing and you want to vomit from how easy-going it sounds. Like the corpse of your beheaded friend is nothing, like it’s a fun pun, like…

You laungh forward, trying to, maybe, get revenge on your not-really-a-friend. Guy lets go of Karen’s body, allowing it to fall down, her head rolling to the nearest creek and tumbling into the water like a sports ball. You can’t even sob – the situation feels too unreal, too shocking, you are still very much drunk and when the guy simply wraps his hands around your waist, not allowing you to move even an inch, you fall limp in his hold.

You sob.

His hand goes to grasp your face in a tight embrace, making you gag from the smell of blood splattered all across his hand. You hear chuckle.

— Didn’t want you to see that first. Wanted to play hero, yes?

You sob, you tremble, you can barely master a few words out of your mouth. You want to scream, but it’s like all the air just decided to disappear from your lungs. So, you cry instead. How brave of you, Karen would be so proud of her friend not even trying to avenge her death.

— F…fuck…you.

You master with all you strength. Guy is laughing again – his other hand goes to squeeze your waist even more, pushing you against a tree. He wears a full mask with some red drawings on it – a satanic cult, really? You thought about serial killer, maybe, but definetly not about crazy cult maniacs running around. The more you know.

— Oh, kitten, I’d love to fuck myself. But you’re here for this, no?

He called you kitten – you squirm in his grasp, not wanting to give him the easy way to kill you. Something pokes you to the side – it’s a knife. Large, sharp, military-issued, you saw it in movie and action TV shows – and now the bloody razor almost grazing over your skin, through the thing fabric of your open jacter and a simple T-shirt.

— Wh…who are you?

Stpuid question, really.

— Why does everyone wants to ask who we are all the time? Would you die happier knowing my name? Would it help you escape knowing how many beauty marks I have?

It would certainly help the police if you were to survive the encounter. Even though you are certainly going to die right next to Karen over there.

He pushes a knife towards your side, the blade cutting through fabric easily, You brace yourself for being gutted alive.

— I don’t like stupid questions. Ask something wrong and I will see if you are as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside.

In a normal situation, you would punch him for such a corny joke. But you’re too drunk for this, but you’re too exhausted for this, but you just want to curl away in some nice place and fucking die, but not because he was the one to kill you. You certainly do not want to give him the satisfaction of being the one for you.

So, you feel your cheeks heating up with the faintest of blushes.

— What are you going to do with me?

He pushes the knife deeper, sharp edge cutting the thin line into your side. You sob immediately, tears filling your eyes as you almost feel blood – not a lot of it, just a tiny sharp streak – fill your shirt. You want to vomit, hate pain, and everything that is related to it. Thinking that the knife is dirty already and he would probably infect you with whatever one of the 13 STDs Karen has if he were to proceed. He stops right before the blade can penetrate your skin.

— I’m a serial killer. What do you think I will do with you?

You shake your head, trying to search for the question that won’t make him plunge a knife into your body.

— W…what is your favorite color?

Good job. Amazing job. Let’s hope you don’t like your liver all that much because he is definitely going to cut it out and eat it.

— Red. I like you.

Suddenly, you are being pushed to your knees. Suddenly, he is standing right in front of you – he is tall, of course, bulky and big, and he seems even bigger from this angle. Your face is pressed against his crotch and you can feel the dread slowly filling up your weins. Is he going to…

He presses a knife against your lips – you part it obediently, nervously, you feel your face twitching with disgust as your mouth immediately fills with the metallic taste of Karen’s blood. You really need to vomit right fucking now, but he is petting your head with his other hand like someone would do to a dog or a cat, and you sob. Too scared to do anything and here you thought you would finally stop letting people walk all over you. You thought it would start a journey of self-actualization and finding your own priorities, but…

He presses the knife a bit deeper.

— Someone here has manners. Your friend here was trying to fuck me until she saw a knife.

Sounds like Karen. You still remember her fucked-out face when she happily stumbled out of your room, with your boyfriend that you thought was never into cheerleaders. She had her urges and it was normal until she started to get off with those urges on everyone who liked you, or who you liked – and with such an innocent smile that no one was ever mad at her.

He presses the knife against your upper jaw, laying it flat on your tongue – you sob, trying not to shake your head too much as he wipes away your tears and pushes your throat even deeper on the blade. You don’t know how it still hasn’t penetrated you yet.

— Squealed like a fucking pig, not even fun anymore. I assume she was the whore of your group?

You shook your shoulders, not wanting to give him any answers. He laughs, pressing the blade down and slightly turning it to the side. You feel the string of saliva running from your open mouth – he wipes it with his finger, leaving blood stains on your face.

— Clean the knife for me, okay? I might leave you live if you would be good for us. You launch onto the opportunity to save your life so quickly, that you don’t even register the word “us” slipping from his tongue.

You suck the knife obediently, carefully holding your tongue from the sharp edge so you won’t cut yourself, trying so desperately not to hurt yourself on the blade, that it’s almost adorable, He looks at you, the way you even fucking hollow your cheeks to clean it more efficiently, like you were sucking a cock and, with every passing second, he doesn’t really feel like killing you anymore.

He feels like keeping you bound to him – maybe cutting your ankles so you would never run away from them, maybe tying you up to the body of your friend and holstering you both to the house, making you watch him gut Karen so you’d know not to run away from them.

He pets your head like you were a cat – and, god, he always adored cats.

You hear the noises from the side – your gaze darts to the nearest bushes as the guy waves his hand to someone gigantic sitting down at your side. Two pair of hands are now petting your head like you were a fucking animal – and you’re still sucking on his knife, feeling the pressure on your lips. You want to die, but there is no choice but to keep living.

— Scheisse, what do you have here?

A hand goes to cup your face and turns you to the side, to meet the giant, bulky figure fully wrapped in camo gear. His face is concealed with some sort of hood, which makes you shake even more. They both look like soldiers – or soldier-cultist-butchers from a horror movie. But, then again, you are in the fucking horror movie, since the big guy has Karen’s head in his hand, holding her by the hair. You sob even more.

— Stumbled across me as I was gutting the slut.

— Is she a smart one then?

The guy with the knife laughs, yanking the blade from your mouth. You want to close it immediately, but the second guy pushes his finger between your lips, keeping them apart – and you are too scared to even try to bite him. Instead, you sit here, obediently, feeling the alcohol in your system working its magic. Again. Making you drowsy and relaxed, panic drained so much energy from your body, that you genuinely feel horrible.

— No, wouldn’t say so. Obedient, more like.

— Not a cool one either. Are you a virgin, Schatz?

You want to lie, just so you won’t feel so fucking embarrassed because of it – but something in the brutality of what they did to Karen made you reconsider. You just shake your shoulders, not wanting to give a definitive answer.

— Cute. Been some time since we saw a cute one like this.

Your sobbing intensifies and the big guy suddenly yanks you on your feet. You immediately feel ill, pressing your head against the tree and emptying your insides – mostly because of the panic and partly because of the amount of alcohol you drank. Their touches are surprisingly soft on your skin, gently removing any stray hairs from your face and holding a firm hand on your back, rubbing the blood and grim into your jacket.

You stand like this for a few minutes, choking on your own tears, vomit, and blood. They coo at you, gentle hands on your body guiding you towards them just so the second guy – a smaller one, relatively of course – could get a hand in your hair and yank it back. Hard.

— Calm the fuck down.

— You’re scaring her, Tigeren.

— Aren’t we here for this?

— Thought you liked this one.

— I do. But…

— But?

— Not fun to take her just now. She can help stir her friends a little. Make them run a little.

They fucking killed Karen and they want to…let you go? They made you clean their knives, stand on your knees in front of them, and then gently helped you empty your insides – just to let you go when you could run into the nearest policeman and destroy their whole little game? Are they dumb or overly confident?

— She could run. I would rather keep her with us.

— They won’t get out of these forests without phones. And their car is already…shit. Spoilers.

— Alright. But I would be the first to take her next time.

— She won’t be any good after you, Ko.

— Our Kleine Hase has more than one hole, ja?

This is it.

You take the opportunity – they are distracted by their little conversation, so you duck under the hand of the bigger man and run in the close direction to where the group is sitting. You are covered in blood, and dirt, you shake like crazy and you can barely even run straight without getting right into the various trees, but you don’t care. You aren’t strong enough to sit here and listen to their conversation – not when the self-preservation makes you forget about Karen. Not when that feeling in your chest can only be described as “She got what she asked for” – because she was a bitch, but not nearly enough to deserve being beheaded by two psychos.

They laugh as they watch you run. Horangi smiles, nudging Konig to the side – you’re not a fighter, but still interesting enough. Adorable and obedient, just vile enough to suck on the same knife that killed your friend – interesting mix, to say the least. Hongjin always wanted a cat, but never got the time on the various deployments – and you behave like a perfect mix of a kitten and bunny.

Konig tilts his head to the side, watching you, this pathetic little thing, run like the devil was after you. He was, of course. and he came in double, but it was still funny, how a city girl like you seriously thought you would be able to get away if they weren’t allowing you to. You’re cute, for a tourist, and he wants to hunt you some more – perfect foreplay before destroying you with either his cock or his knife.

One down – and both of them couldn’t wait to finally get to you.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #horangi x you #horangi x könig #horangi x reader #kim horangi hong jin #horangi #slashers

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prettylilyanime · 5 months ago

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Blooming Hearts ♡ DRABBLE 01

˚✿˖ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem reader

˚✿˖ Synopsis: In which Bakugou not only taught you how to use the public transportation system, but also the wonders of a 7/11 (A continuation from chapter 5 / deleted scene from chapter 6)

˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder

˚✿˖ Authors note: This Drabble is a continuation of this chapter!

˚✿˖ Masterlist

⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖

The train ride had been… an experience.

Between Bakugou’s attitude (which you’re learning is incredibly sassy) your near-death encounter with inertia and stiletto boots, and the fact that his hand had been on your waist for far longer than necessary, you were convinced your heart had been put through an endurance test.

Aizawa and his crazy assignments could never get this level of heart pounding anxiety from you.

But somehow, miraculously, you made it to your stop without combusting!

Which led you here.

A 7-Eleven.

The sushi spot you had been craving had been sadly temporarily closed for renovations, and this store had been right around the corner.

“Wow, this is incredible! I’ve never been in one of these before!” you gasp, eyes sparkling as you take in the rows of cheap candies, brightly colored cup ramen, and an ungodly amount of processed snacks.

So many different flavors to choose from!!

Behind you, a deep, unimpressed voice deadpans, “It’s literally just a 7-Eleven.”

You, of course, blatantly ignore him. Instead, you grab a small shopping basket—its handle slightly wobbly, the paint chipping at the edges—and immediately start filling it with snacks like a kid let loose in a candy store.

“This might just be my new favorite store!!” you announce, practically vibrating with excitement as you move toward the freezer section.

You scan the ice cream selection with growing delight, marveling at the sheer variety of brands and flavors—all for a shockingly low price.

This so beats the organic, gluten-free, sugar-free, fun-free supermarkets your mom usually had her staff shop at on your behalf.

Bakugou, who has been trailing behind you like an exhausted babysitter, watches as you pluck a pink tub of strawberry swirl ice cream from the fridge. Your face lights up at the cute graphics on the packaging.

is that a strawberry cow?! Eeek!

“I’ll get this one too,” you hum, hugging the tub to your chest like a prized possession.

Bakugou nearly rolls his eyes into another dimension. “Taught ya how to take the damn train to become a better hero, and now you’re gonna kill it all with this shitty food.”

You gasp, clutching the ice cream closer like it’s your firstborn child.

“Are you joking?!” you exclaim. “This ice cream is gonna make me feel better before I go to sleep! This is incredible!”

Bakugou snorts as you absentmindedly go to adjust your glasses—except, oh, wait.

You’re not wearing them.

Your fingers meet empty air, your contacts having replaced your usual frames for the night.

A slow, knowing smirk stretches across Bakugou’s face.

Your ears heat up. Hastily, you shove your ice cream into the basket he’s—when did that happen?!—holding and mumble, “Shut up. It’s a habit.”

He doesn’t even bother with a comeback.

He doesn’t have to.

The glint of amusement in his sharp, crimson eyes says everything.

In just one day—somehow spent mostly by your side—Bakugou has come to one solid, undeniable conclusion:

You’re just like the rest of his idiot friends.

Just blessed with a far better face than shitty hairs or dunce face.

Honestly, before today, he half-wondered if you were mute. That theory shattered the moment you started rambling in the middle of the station, your excited outbursts completely at odds with the cool, composed image you gave off.

The new you in front of him was almost jarring.

Not that he’d ever really paid much attention to you before.

You were just quiet. Unusually so. You didn’t hover around the usual class friend groups, never really stuck with the girls of 1-A. He would’ve noticed—he’s been dragged to enough forced social outings by Kirishima to be painfully aware of the class dynamics.

Yet somehow, three years into your degree, he was only just now hearing what your voice actually sounded like.

Not that you were forgettable—far from it. Your face was one of the first he recognized when he stepped into class 1-A on his first day of freshman year.

And your last name? Impossible to ignore.

Bakugou never really gave a shit either way.

But one thing had caught his attention—the way people wouldn’t shut up about you when it came to the Big Three. It was no surprise when he, Deku, and Todoroki solidified their spots. That was a given. But you?

He remembers his brows raising when he first heard your name being thrown around in the conversation. He wasn’t necessarily threatened, just... intrigued.

The media adored you. Your social accounts had more followers than any other student at U.A., and magazines were already fighting for the chance to put you on their covers.

All the while, you could barely mutter a full sentence to anyone in class.

Now, watching you stand in the middle of a 7-Eleven, holding two cans of soda in your perfectly manicured hands, he can’t help but snort to himself. You carefully scan the sugar content on the labels like it actually matters—only to immediately toss both cans into the basket without hesitation.

Figures.

“Y’know, if you’re just gonna buy both, why waste time lookin’ at the numbers?” he asks, shifting the basket to one hand as he watches your little decision-making process unfold.

You huff, completely unbothered. “It’s about making an informed choice.”

“Bullshit. You just wanted both.”

You shoot him a look but don’t bother denying it, instead grabbing a pack of Pocky and tossing that into the basket too.

You’re already fixated on the next aisle, eyes practically sparkling at the ridiculous variety of instant noodles. He’s never seen someone get this excited over convenience store food in his life.

And somehow, he finds himself following along, weirdly unbothered by all of your little quirks that would have had him rolling his eyes and snapping at all the other idiots in his life.

Bakugou clicks his tongue, annoyed at his own thoughts.

Comparing you to the extras he’s been stuck with for years? What kind of bullshit was that?

Yet, as he watches you crouch down to examine the instant ramen selection like it’s some kind of treasure hoard, he realizes—against his better judgment—that it doesn’t piss him off the way it should.

You hum thoughtfully, manicured fingers tracing over different flavors, your brows furrowing in deep concentration. “How am I supposed to choose just one?” you mumble, more to yourself than to him.

He snorts. “You’re not. You’re gonna throw at least three in the basket and pretend like you struggled to decide.”

You gasp, turning to glare at him, scandalized. “You think you know me so well, huh?”

“I know an indecisive dumbass when I see one.”

And just as he predicted, you grab three different flavors and plop them into the basket without another word.

Bakugou exhales through his nose, shaking his head. Somehow, despite himself, he follows as you dart to yet another shelf, eyes alight with childlike wonder.

He should be annoyed. Should be telling you to hurry the hell up so you can both get out of here, but instead, he just watches as you get distracted by a random keychain display near the register, fiddling with a tiny All Might figure that probably wouldn’t even fit on your fancy designer bag.

“This is so cute,” you murmur, flipping it over in your hands before glancing at the other characters on the rack. A tiny Bakugou keychain dangles right in front of you, and before he can react, you’re holding it up with a smirk.

“Oooh, look, it’s you,” you tease, shaking it so the little chibi version of him bobs wildly.

Bakugou scowls. “Put that shit back.”

You only laugh, placing it back on the hook (but in a better spot, front and center, because you think it’s actually pretty adorable).

By the time you finally reach the register, your basket is overflowing. Bakugou just stares at it, unimpressed. “Y’gonna eat all this tonight or somethin’?”

You shake your head, grinning. “No, well maybe the icecream, yes.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, As the cashier hands you the bag, you beam like you’ve just won the lottery.

And for some reason, as the two of you step back into the cool night air, Bakugou finds himself shaking his head with something that—if he didn’t know better—almost feels like amusement.

What the hell was he getting himself into?

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#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #my hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugo katsuki #x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #blooming hearts #bakugo x y/n #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader #my hero academia x reader #drabble #blooming hearts drabble

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miserycanary · 1 year ago

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MISSION: LOVE KILL ᡣ𐭩 [trailer]

pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: the trailer to my very first full-length series set in a soulmate AU.

pairings: (applies to future parts) angst, smut, fluff, mutual pining, misunderstandings, rivals to lovers to rivals, featuring Ghost's inability to communicate, graphic mentions of violence, might hint to sexual violence, BARELY PUT TOGETHER, torture, one bed trope, i-will-wait-for-you trope, loving-you-is-like-breathing trope, slowburn (unless I get bored and rush this), poor poor attempt in crack, will add more as we go on

The subtle searing pain on the back of his neck is enough reason for Ghost to hate the idea of soulmates existing. It wasn’t just the fact that he has lived up to his 30s feeling like a fire wasp is buzzing under his skin, it was that the government fully developed their system with pairs in mind. You mean to tell him that he has to have found his partner—who’s probably cities or even continents away—just so that he could fucking own property? Utter fucking bullshit, he calls it.

‘Nutjobs! The lot of them’

It was also the fact he had to watch his mum’s so-called soulmate almost beat them up to death each day. How could someone whose single purpose in life is to torment them be his mother’s soulmate? Fate either has a weird take on the concept of love and the whole shenanigan or it’s fucking wicked. Either way, the S-word has left a bad taste in his mouth—and memory. He would rather die, not having property—or anything really—to his name if it means that he wouldn’t comply to the fucking standards of pairs.

Or so he thought because, once again, life is fucking wicked like that.

When he first broke the news that he would be retiring from the army, he expected his future days ahead full of smooth-sailing lounging. Maybe a cup of tea in hand or even some biscuits if he was feeling fancy. Imagine his shocked face when he inquired with a real-estate agent to finally have something to call home, no longer needing to stay by some cheap hotel with what his little pay could afford, that he cannot fucking do that!

“Yeah, this would be good. Really nice stuff here,” Ghost gruffs. “Yeah? Well, let’s get started then. Um, here are the paperworks that you need to fill out. Uhh, you just need to input your government code and your partner’s. It is policy that you bring your pair in with you when it comes to legal documents, but I’m sure that we could make an exception for our veteran here,” the agent smiles; one that Ghost did not reciprocate. “I ain’t got a missus with me. Haven’t found them yet.”

It was a simple explanation, not wanting to dwell too much on his reasons. Before he could even take the papers in his hand, the man retracts. Confusion etched on Ghost’s face while pity is on the man’s. “Oh, I am really sorry but you are legally required to have a partner before you could own property—or anything for that matter.” Ghost looked this agent for a good few minutes, anticipating the ‘sike’ that he desperately wishes to hear but only dead silence echoes. “Surely you could, say, make an except for a veteran?” he nervously chuckles out, trying to weasel his way into a fucking home. Nothing. Dead fucking silence that’s heavy with pity. Ghost loathes it.

Without even saying a word, he turns his back and starts walking towards the car he rented today, because you can’t even own a car in this government! He should have flagged it as weird when the lady in the car shop insists that he should rent first before buying something. So, now he sits in the dingy bar that Soap has dragged him into after he informed the force that he would not be settling anytime soon. After explaining his circumstance, he expected them to react like he did before, but no. They all replied like they knew this. Even saying stuff like, “you didn’t know?” Of course he didn’t! It wasn’t like Ghost was invested in property or anything for that matter while he was serving. All he cared about was surviving each day, and that is it.

“Aye, cheer up, lad. Life ain’ that bad. Ya’ just gotta get them lassie, and all yer problems would go away,” the Scot on his right drunkenly offers advice—a shit one at that. Did he really think Ghost hasn’t stepped foot on every land they got deployed with heavy hopes that he’ll find whoever he needs to find there? He fucking hates it here. He should have not retired this early if he knew this would happen. Now he needs to go around the world and search for the lassie whose presence—or her lack thereof—is the root of all his problems.

If finding a needle in a haystack is hard, imagine finding a lady that’s probably moving countries as he speaks with Soap. “Yeah, like that’s fucking easy,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes before lifting his mask just enough to down his shot of whiskey. The fiery burn of the alcohol down his throat is nothing compared to the one on his neck. He would rather have it cut at this point than to go on about this miserable lifetime any longer.

“Should I just cut and peel it off?” he mumbles to no one in particular; probably to Fate if that shit is listening. Seeing that no one else in the rundown bar is really paying attention to him, Soap takes the honour in replying to him instead. “According tae what I’ve seen, jobby pain is hee haw compared tae th' pain ye will feel in yer heart. Doctors say that th' pain goes tae th' heart instead while tripling”. Unprompted, Ghost curses like a fucking sailor. Saying stuff that will probably get him on the government's watchlist if he wasn’t part of the military serving this goddamn country. He risks his life daily and this is what he gets? Ungrateful bastards.

With a slam of the glass on the mahogany table, he stands up with a new profound determination. “Fuck it, I’m finding that missus if it’s the last thing that I do”. “Eyy, that’s the spirit, matie,” Soap drunkenly encourages him, which should have been the first red flag on this idea. Any idea supported by Soap is an immediate botch.

Well, what could go wrong? He’s retired anyway.

Turns out, many could go wrong. Well, here’s to the fucking shit-show of his life.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: please give this love!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! @hotvinimon

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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inspectorspacetimerevisited · 1 year ago

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Were viewers supposed to assume that the grasshopper Emerald stepped on died

and then the Inspector somehow brought it back to life? (Not that he hasn’t done that before with his reincarnative powers.)

#Inspector Spacetime #Time Geezers (episode)#Butterfly of Doom (trope)#Butterfly of Doom #Death Is Cheap (trope)#Death Is Cheap #were we to assume #the grasshopper #Emerald Tuesday (character)#stepped on #did it die #died and came back to life #the Inspector (character)#somehow brought it back to life #not that he hasn't done that before #reincarnative powers #reincarnation

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solivagant242 · 6 months ago

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late night drives ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

pairing: dean x childhood friend!reader

warnings: alluded childhood abuse/neglect, blood, mild angst, sickness

this is an entirely self-indulgent drabble since i haven't been able to get the fluff/soft memory/comfort trope out of my head- this is based on an aesthetic that i can't quite name.

comment if you want dean's pov!

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you didn’t know when it had become a tradition, something just for the two of you. maybe it was when you’d both been fourteen, stuck in the middle of nowhere, each with fathers that didn’t want to come home.

maybe it was when you had begun hunting and taken the impala on the road. when the stress of all the blood and sweat and death started getting to you.

either way. it didn’t matter.

the air is so warm it feels almost like bathwater. that doesn’t stop you from shivering, though, wrapping your arms around yourself. your hair is still wet from the burning shower you’d taken, the shower that had left blood swirling down the drain and the fresh slices and stabs on your skin stinging and twining.

you’re in the passenger seat, the one where sam normally is. you’re not sure if his towering height is responsible for why the seat feels so huge, too low to the ground, as if his weight has pressed it down.

dean is driving.

you don’t normally look at him during these drives. or even pay attention to him, for that matter; times like these are spent in a wordless appreciation of the other’s silence, each of you battling whatever demons have clawed their way from the depths of your minds this time.

but this time you do, through half-closed eyelids.

his face looks more relaxed than it did half an hour ago, jaw soft instead of clenched. the shadows under those green eyes haven’t dissipated, though.

you doubt they ever will.

drowsily you rest your head on the side of the impala, the soft turns and pauses at stoplights lulling you into a doze.

you used to be scared of falling asleep. nightmares would flock behind your eyes, black shards of ice stabbing into your skull and leaving you screaming in the dead of night. before you went on the road with the winchesters, you’d spend hours lying on the slant of your bedroom roof, silent tears trickling coldly into your ears till you couldn’t cry anymore.

even after you’d formed your own messy little broken family with sam and dean, you’d been scared to fall asleep. you still remember how your mom had left in the dead of night when you were eight. you had heard the door open and close, a tiny little dismissive sound audible through the chirping of the frogs outside.

she hadn’t ever come back, and you knew you wouldn’t be seeing her again.

the cigarette burns on your hand tingle in relief at the thought.

you don’t know when you became okay with sleeping with the winchesters around. somewhere in between the falling and flying of delirium, of a hunt gone wrong and more medicine than you thought possible pumping through your veins.

dean had stayed up with you for two nights in a row. his calloused fingers had been gentle as they carded through your hair, pushing it back from your sweaty forehead, even when you thrashed around and nearly fell off the bed.

he’d caught you and deposited you back under the covers.

“it’s okay, sweetheart. sleep. please sleep.”

you had slept soundly ever since then.

a brighter light blinks across your eyelids and you stir a bit, letting your eyes blur into focus.

the sky is a rich shade of blue, deepening to midnight at its peak and broadening to pale gold nearer the horizon. a few creamy stars are scattered across its expanse.

stoplights and gas station signs flicker past. more lights- cherry-red, neon green, and bright yellow.

it’s all a blur, a soft, sleepy blur cloaked in the light hum of the impala. dean shifts and mumbles something that you can’t quite catch, and somehow his voice and the smell of the cheap ivory soap he always uses is soothing.

you close your eyes and drift off into another vaguely remembered dream.

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#dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester fluff imagine #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester hurt/comfort #dean imagine #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean imagines #dean fluff imagine #dean fluff

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super-hero-confessions · 2 months ago

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At this point Romy is a fetish.

Nothing sweet or romantic about their relationship. It’s just petty for the sake of being petty to keep them together after all the years of trauma, humiliation and backstabbing. At no point in canon 616 timeline have they been good for each other and somehow the romy writers emphasis that more than the ones who hate either of the pair. They’ve been stripped of everything that made them unique and lovable to fans to beat people to death with this ship that couldn’t be clearer as the very definition of unhealthy relationships. Their best writing was when they were done with each other and it was pretty respectfully done considering how it ended during the mutant team avengers issue. You cannot build a healthy relationship without trust or respect, neither of which has been genuinely present in any interaction between Rogue and Gambit. They are the kind of relationship you have early on in your life, when everything is in upheaval and you throw yourself into something just to forget the pain and heartache you’re going through only to find you’ve dug yourself into a deeper hole of misery and despair. It’s meant to end. It’s supposed to be learning and letting go so you can blossom into something better and healthier. Marrying them was cheap and hollow like all of the writing for the pair has been from the very beginning.

Another thing that is really tiresome is the ship obsessives calling other fans and writers groomers and such when that part of their ship is doing good elsewhere. Rogue has NEVER been groomed by Magneto, look up the definition before spouting nonsense. He was never her mentor/teacher or held an authoritative position over Rogue and she he always been an adult when they are together, there is significant age gap yes, that doesn’t instantly make it grooming. I don’t even ship them, I’m hardcore Rogue should be a lesbian but it’s so insulting to read when the actual abusive ship is the one you are all going psychotic over. Rogue and Gambit have done nothing but emotionally, mentally and at times physically abused one another. No genuine communication, no respect for boundaries, pure jealousy and lust. Their canon drama is too prominent to pretend they work and it’s an insult to the characters to undermine their struggles to make them a goofy mess. It’s not even fanon. Fanon is based on canon content, you are all living in ao3 world for romy. The ship fans have monopolised the characters and made them into a fanfiction nightmare in the comics and the fandom space for so long it’s burnout to even try and have an opinion on either character because you get jumped on by a bunch of rabid animals who are loud and wrong for no good reason. Reducing them to a sex trope is unusual behaviour and the way that part of the fandom treats the characters is a disgrace. I hope x-office grows a spine and switches it up to give these characters their personalities and individuality back so we can have some decent writing for them again.

#confession #rant #marvel #x-men #rogue #gambit #magneto

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immortellesjouissances · 24 days ago

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My Stranger Things Season 5 Predictions

Alright, I’m usually quiet on Tumblr, but I’ve been deep in a rewatch lately (because my brain is stuck in Hawkins and refuses to leave since the teaser) and I have been silently watching you all and leaks and interviews… I have thoughts so buckle up!! (Btw, I am French, excuse my mistakes…)

Possible Major Deaths

Let’s start with the pain (sorry) :

- Steve: I hate this one, but I can see it coming. His arc feels complete, and the writers love a tragic hero. If he dies, it’ll be for someone else. Dustin? Nancy? The whole group? But I hate the thought of Dustin losing him after Eddie. Please no.

- Eleven: A self-sacrifice trope wouldn’t surprise me… It’d be cliché, but narratively neat. However… Hopper losing his daughter again? I would not stand it, jeez.

- Will: It began with him. Could it end with him? I really hope not — the queer kid dying after years of suffering and trauma? That would be devastating (and tone-deaf). Plus, Joyce and Jonathan losing AGAIN? Nah.

- Dustin: He has no love interest and tons of emotional value for viewers. A prime target, unfortunately. (Sorry Dustin, I don’t make the rules.)

Any of these deaths would BREAK me, but I think they’re among the most narratively “logical”.

Max’s Role

Max isn’t dying. Her surviving the end of S4 just to die in S5 would be so cheap and lazy.

I think she’ll help El via their psychic connection. Her arc isn’t over. She’ll wake up by the end of the season and probably be key to the final fight. (Well, let’s hope.)

Mileven Breakup

Let’s be real: this has been coming for a while.

I actively enjoyed this paring at first. They were cute in S1–S2, but by S3–S4 the writers clearly began pulling them apart. The love confession in S4? Still gives me secondhand embarrassment.

Also: according to leaks, Mike and El barely have scenes together in S5. Weird choice for the supposed “main couple” if they’re endgame, no??? Would be weird.

Byler Rising

Now this… I’m excited for. There’s so much left to unpack!!

- The painting lie

- Will’s hidden feelings

- Mike’s possible realization

- Their childhood flashbacks (according to leaks)

- That tension!!

The acting is going to be TOP TIER. These two are going to SERVE.

How I think it will unfold:

Mike and Will are closer than ever at the start of S5. Things with El are awkward, maybe post-breakup.

Mike learns the truth about the painting, doesn’t confront Will directly but starts observing him, questioning things, how he feels, what Will really means to him.

Eventually, he realizes his own feelings. He’s the one to initiate a kiss — maybe to test his feelings, or to reassure Will, maybe after he finally confronts Will about the painting ? But Will thinks it’s just a moment of pity or confusion. And….I don’t have more, lol.

Cue ambiguity!!!, angst!!!!, tension!!! Lovers Lake! Second kiss ? Maybe a quiet, intimate scene — something raw and tender ? (Ok, that’s wishful thinking…) Let’s just hope…

Kali’s Return

Yes, I believe she’s coming back!! I saw some people talk about it, and I completely agree.

They’ll need all the help they can get, and she plays into the theme of found family. Plus, El needs closure with her “sister”. Love is going to save the world, remember? Hehe

Stancy’s Bittersweet Comeback

I think Stancy is being set up for a last emotional arc — not as a long-term couple, but as closure.

If Steve dies, Nancy being there will make it even more tragic and personal. They’ll kiss. But I don’t think they’ll end up together. (I actually don’t know if I prefer Stancy or Jancy so either way, I am fucked.)

Jopper & Byers Family

FINALLY. We’re going to see Hopper and Joyce as a couple — in a warzone maybe, but still.

What I’m really looking forward to is the family dynamic!!! Hopper and El; Joyce and Will; Hopper and Will (!!)

Eleven’s True Power

This season will focus on El learning to love herself — not through romantic love, but through friendships and FAMILY.

She’ll have strong moments with Max, Hopper, and maybe even Will. I expect badass fights with her dad, I am SEATED.

Jonathan’s Comeback

I miss him. He was strong and weird and brave in S1–S2.

Then S3–S4 turned him into a background character. I want a Jonathan comeback. He deserves a hero moment. Maybe something related to Will? I am waitinggggg

Love Triangles & Miscommunication

Oh boy. We’re in for a ride:

- Byler / Mileven: the painting, El’s realization, Mike caught between truth and guilt.

- Stancy / Jancy: unresolved tension.

- Robin / Vickie: low-key but sweet.

Exciting times ahead!

Intimate Scenes Predictions

- Jopper: It’s time!!!! Let them have a soft moment!

- Stancy: Maybe a kiss, for closure? Not sure but I can see it happening.

- Byler: One kiss is inevitable (Lovers Lake? Mike saving Will from drowning?), but I want more. A second, more intentional moment. (A GOOD KISS) Give us the tenderness queer love we deserve (and that Will deserves.)

- Robin & Vickie: Definitely a kiss.

El Learning About Will’s Feelings

I cannot wait to see how she reacts bc I have no clue about how she is going to react? Confused? Angry? Hurt? Supportive? The emotional fallout could be huge — or surprisingly quiet and meaningful. Pleeeease I want it now

Open Ending?

If Mike, Will, and El all survive… I’m betting on a slightly ambiguous ending. Some closure, but room for interpretation.

+ Bonus: Mike had a crush on Eddie.

You can’t convince me otherwise. The way Mike looked at Eddie? Not straight-coded. (Maybe it was admiration but…let a girl dream.)

That’s it for now, I will return in my cave with my fellow other quiet supporters.

#byler #stranger things #stranger things season 5 #stranger things season five #will byers #mike wheeler

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physalian · 1 year ago

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How to Subvert Expectations Without Compromising The Story

Whoo boy, is this a contentious topic with the last few blockbuster franchises. To “subvert expectations” is to do the opposite of whatever your audience expects to happen. Your audience expects the story to go a certain way based on the archetypes and tropes your characters follow, the tone you’ve set for your story, and the level of mature themes that tone allows.

It might mean your long-lost princess doesn’t actually reclaim the throne she’s been fighting for. Or the presumed hero (or any of their straight friends) of the story dies halfway through their arcs. The mentor pegged for death actually survives to the end credits. The villain’s plan actually succeeds, or the heroes fail to deactivate the bomb before it explodes. The “will they/won’t they” is never fulfilled.

Supporters of SE argue the following:

It’s refreshing, novel, new, a fun twist on a classic tale

They like that it’s unpredictable and bold

They’re tired of stories fitting within the same wheel ruts of every other story that came before and like to see creativity thrive

It gives audiences something they didn’t even know they wanted

Haters of SE argue this:

It’s only done for drama at the cost of fulfilling character arcs

It’s a cheap gag that only works once and has zero rewatchability with the same impact

Tropes and archetypes have stood the test of time for a reason - to entertain

Plot holes ensue

When expectations are subverted and the story changes in a more positive light (like a beloved character who doesn’t die when we all think they will), the reaction is not nearly as emotionally charged as when the story changes negatively. Thus, the haters have plenty of evidence of bad examples, but minimize the good ones. Good SE is novel, or a pleasant surprise, or a quaint relief. Bad SE trashes the story and spits on the fans and destroys the legacy of the fandom.

What makes a bad subversion?

Like killing any character for shock value, bad SE takes all of the potential of a good story and gambles it for a string of gasps in the movie theater. It exists only to keep the audience on their toes, or because the writer went out of their way to change the direction of their work when fans figured out the mystery too quickly and now *must* prove all the clever sleuths wrong.

So, say your subversion is making the hero lose a tournament arc when they made it all the way to the final round and the entire story is riding on this victory. They may have stumbled along the way and had some near-misses, but they must win. Not just so the audience cheers, but because this is the direction their arc must take to be at all entertaining and fulfilling.

Then they lose, because it’s *novel* and irreparable consequences are reaped in the aftermath. They lose when, by rights, they were either stronger or smarter or faster than their opponent. They lose when the hand of the author rigs the fight against them and everyone notices.

Sure, it’s not at all what audiences expect, but you, writer, your first responsibility to the people consuming your content is to entertain them. So what purpose does this loss serve this character? How does it impact their arc, the themes that surround them, the message of your story?

Even if mainstream audiences don’t care on the surface about themes and motifs, they still know when a story fumbles. It’s not entertaining anymore, it’s not satisfying. Yes, crap happens in reality, but this is fiction. If I wanted to read about some tragic hero’s bitter and unsatisfying demise, I’d read about any losing side in any war ever in a history book. I picked up a fiction book for catharsis.

On the topic of “gritty fantasy/sci-fi anyone can die and no one is safe” – no author has the guts to roll the dice and kill whoever it lands on. Some characters will always have plot armor. Why? Because you wouldn’t have a story otherwise, you’d just have a bloody, gory, depressing reality TV show with hidden cameras.

What makes a good subversion?

Now. What if this character loses the final round of their tournament, but it’s their own fault? Maybe they get too cocky. Maybe it’s perfectly, tragically in character for them to fall on their own sword. Maybe the audience is already primed with the knowledge that this fight will be close, that there might be foul play involved, but still deny that it will happen because that’s the hero, they won’t lose. Until they do.

Then, it’s not the hand of the author, it’s this character’s flaws finally biting them in the ass. It’s still disappointing, no doubt, but then the audience is less mad at the author and more mad at the dumbass character for letting their ego get to their head.

If you write a character who’s entire goal in life is to win that trophy, or reclaim their throne, or get the girl, and they *don’t* do those things, then the “trophy” had better be the friends they made along the way, that they learned it wasn’t the trophy, it was something *better* and even though they lost, they still won. Even when expectations are shredded, the story still has to say something, otherwise the audience just feels like they wasted their time.

A good subversion does not compromise the soul of the narrative. You might kill a fan favorite character or even the hero of the story, but their impact on the characters they leave behind is felt until the very end. The hero might lose her tournament, but she still walks away with wisdom, maturity, and new friends. Heck, sports movies leave the winner of the big game a toss-up more often than not. Audiences know the game is important, but they know the character they’re following is even more important. Doesn’t matter if the *team* loses the battle, so long as the protagonist wins the Character Development war.

Good SE that should be more popular:

The “Trial of threes” – your hero faces three obstacles and usually botches the first two and succeeds on the third attempt. Subvert it by having them win on the first or second, lose all three, or have a secret fourth

Not killing your gays. Just. Don’t do it. That’ll subvert expectations just fine, won’t it?

Let the villain win

Have your hero’s love interest not actually interested in them because they realize they deserve better / Have the hero realize they don’t want the romantic subplot they thought they did

Have the love triangle become a polycule / have the two warring love interests get with each other instead, or both find someone they don’t have to compete for

Mid-redemption villain backslides at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero doesn’t actually have all the MacGuffins necessary at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero is simply wrong, about anything, about important things, about themselves

The character who knows too much still can’t warn their friends in time, but lives instead with the guilt of their failure

The mentor lives and becomes a bitter rival out to maintain their spot at the top of the charts

Kill the hero, and make the villain Regret Everything

More deadbeat missing parents, not just dead parents

Let the hero live long enough to become the villain

—

Why write a crown prince that never becomes king? What’s the point of his story if all he does is remain exactly who he was on page 1 and learns nothing for his efforts? Why write a rookie racer if he spins out in the infield in the big race and ends his story broken and demoralized in a hospital bed? Why should we, the audience, spend time and emotional investment on a story that goes nowhere and says nothing?

Cinderella always gets a happy ending no matter how many iterations her story gets, because she wouldn’t be Cinerella if she remained an abused orphan with no friends. We like predictability, we like puzzling out where we think the story will go based on the crumbs of evidence we pick up along the way, we like interacting with our fiction and patting ourselves on the back when we’re proven right.

Tragedies exist. There’s seven types of stories and the fall from grace is one of them… but audiences can see a tragedy coming from a mile away. Audiences sign up for a tragedy when they pay for the movie ticket. We know, no matter how much we root for that character to make better choices, that their future is doomed. Tragedy is still cathartic.

What’s not cathartic is being bait-and-switched by a writer who laughs and snaps pictures of our horrified faces just so they can say they proved us wrong. Congratulations? Go ahead and write the rookie broken in the hospital bed. I can’t stop you. Just don’t be shocked when no one wants to watch your misery parade march on by.

#writing resources #writing advice #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #subverting expectations #subversion

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theblogwithoutfear · 11 months ago

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karen page is so annoying in the show...is she better in the comics somehow or is she just like that

So I've actually wanted to talk about this forever, but I kept forgetting to make a post about it. Your ask is a perfect opportunity to write down all my thoughts. Brace yourself, because I have a lot to say. Sorry in advance lmao

I actually prefer Karen in the show. To be fair, I have not finished all the comics, but so far I think her TV counterpart is a lot better (I still like her a lot in the comics tho, don't get me wrong). The NMCU version of Karen Page also has a lot of Kirsten McDuffie (another comic book girlfriend) in her, which is great in my opinion.

A lot of people find her annoying, but to me it's her flaws that make her such a fantastic character. She isn't a caricature, stock-girlfriend character pulled from a box of tropes; she's a well-rounded individual, extremely realistic, a mirror of Matt Murdock, and a woman with real agency. Her actions have major consequences on the plot. In my opinion, a lot of superhero girlfriends (in comics, movies, TV, whatever) are written more like props than characters, and they don't have any agency or actual plot relevance. Which is why, when a lot of them die, their deaths feel so cheap and inconsequential. That's where fridging comes from. It's been a problem with superheroes since their very inception; and a problem in storytelling at large. So often in fiction, women are flat and unrealistic.

So to me, Karen's heavily-flawed character is refreshing. She is extremely impulsive; she's deeply intelligent, but makes such stupid decisions; she can be hypocritical, self-destructive, and petty. Sometimes she manipulates people, even unintentionally. She's very well-meaning, but constantly makes mistakes. And it's these mistakes that move the plot forward, and reveal important things about both her and Matt. Her actions have real consequences for the story, and she undertakes her own journey throughout the narrative. She is almost as much a protagonist as Matt is, in terms of her character development and growth.

For that matter, every one of the flaws that I listed are things that Matt does too. They are almost perfect mirrors of each other; people who are immensely concerned with justice and compassion, people who care for the truth, and people who want to make their city a better place. However, as they go about it, they stumble and make mistakes and endanger other people. They're hypocritical and contradictory and impulsive. They constantly have to call their own moralities into question, because they almost never live up to their high ideals.

(Also, as a side note, I think many of Karen's flaws—as with Matt's—come as a direct result of all the trauma she's been through: her mother's death, her brother's death, her alcoholism and drug addiction, her dad cutting her off, being framed for murder, almost getting murdered in prison, etc. So I think it's fair to give her some grace.)

But what makes both Karen and Matt so lovable, imo, is that they keep trying. No matter what mistakes they make, they get back up and try again. They do everything they can to atone for the blood on their hands.

I think also (and I'm not accusing you of this, just a certain subset of people in the fandom) that people are more willing to accept Matt's flaws than Karen's—because there's a lot of misogyny built into our society, and there's this ingrained idea that women have to be paragons of virtue. Women, both in fiction and in reality, tend to be put under a microscope and dissected, while men can get away with a lot more. So Matt and Karen have identical flaws, but only Karen gets hate for it, which makes me very sad.

It may be the writer in me, but imo flaws are what make a character—and a story—meaningful. A well-flawed character can take a ridiculous, implausible story and make it feel grounded and real and impactful. A well-flawed woman even more so. I love Karen for the same reason I love Jessica Jones and Wanda Maximoff; or, to go beyond Marvel, for the same reason I love Jo March and Katniss Everdeen and Miss Haversham and Katherina Molina. They all elevate their respective stories beyond the initial premise and plot. Flawed female characters are realistic and impactful, and therefore empowering.

Obviously, to each their own. Some people just find her annoying and don't like her personality, and that's fine. But for me, that's what makes her feel real, and that's why I love her.

#sorry for the essay #but not really #I'll defend her till I'm dead in the ground #karen page #daredevil #nmcu #comics #matt murdock #marvel #karedevil #deborah ann woll

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