#this is what happens when you don't give people a script and they write their own character. he and niki are forcing themselves back into

[dyaz-stories]

don't get cut on my edges || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Gojo is easily bored, you're the latest enigma that's caught his interest. He sets off in trying to figure you out. Lucky for him, you're coming on the week-end trip Shoko's planned for the week-end.

“Was I off script?”

You look up at him.

“You’re always off script.”

word count: 5.4k

genre: college!AU, fluff, slice of life

cw: unresolved sexual and romantic tension, reader has anxiety and is socially awkward, she/her is used for the reader, a little suggestive, overall very sweet and fluffy

a/n: this was fun to write! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy my writing here :)

soundtrack

Gojo knows that people talk, knows that they talk shit, knows that there isn’t a soul on campus that doesn’t have an opinion on him. He can tell that eyes follow him around when he walks into a room, that his presence is enough to shift the atmosphere at a gathering, that some people roll their eyes at him while others try their best to catch his attention. It’s a lot to take in, for just one person.

Fortunately, he’s proved to be incredibly gifted in the art of not giving a fuck.

Then again, he’s incredibly gifted in most areas of life. Truth be told, he thinks people aren’t giving him enough credit for that. Sure, they tend to know that he’s a physics major, but that’s just tangential to what they know about the rest of him. He’s not just kinda good at physics, not some dude that goes to college mostly for the parties and then get a meaningless job at daddy’s company, no, he’s the fucking best, and he works fucking hard to be able to claim that title.

But that doesn’t really fit in with the rest of him, and at the end of the day, who cares? He certainly doesn’t.

With all that, it’s not statistically unlikely for him to catch people talking about him.

Well, he’d have to conduct a detailed study to calculate the exact odds, but with how much alcohol is in his blood at this very moment, it makes sense to him that it would happen.

Still, for people to be talking about him at a party he is at, in front of an open window, you’d think they would have some sense of shame. Not that he has any room to talk, because shame is not part of his vocabulary, but like. Come on.

“Gojo really can’t take not being in the spotlight for more than ten seconds, huh?”

That voice, he’s quick to identify, even if he can’t see her face from where’s he’s standing under the porch, belongs to Mei Mei. Aw. Bummer. They’d spent quite a lot of time around each other, have friends in common, slept— Wait, have they slept together? He can’t say for sure anymore. It seems to have slipped from his mind. Oops. Maybe that’s why he’s getting that treatment. Maybe he deserves it.

There’s a scoff, and really, the acoustic of this place are impressive. It feels like he’s straight in the room with those people.

“What else do you expect from someone who’s always had everything served to him on a silver platter?”

And that would be Noritoshi Kamo. Man. That was one of the few kids in the families his parents insisted on frequenting. They used to be sat next to each other at the kiddie table while the adults talked about the important stuff. They never had much in common — not then, not now. And, after all, maybe Noritoshi has a point, after all. His mother wasn’t a mistress, wasn’t turned into an outcast, and he’s never had to pretend he didn’t hear the loud whispers that tarnished her name. Yeah. Sounds like these two aren’t saying anything new after all. Not that he’s gonna change, y’know, but he already knows who he is, and he is all that.

“That seems like a very mean thing to say about a friend,” a quiet voice comments.

The world freezes.

A silhouette appears to go along with the voice, then a blurry face, then the picture becomes clearer. A figure sitting next to Shoko, giving him sweet, polite smiles when he approaches. Not chatty, kinda shy, pretty cute. Would get quiet when he was near, though, so he hadn’t paid a ton of attention. He’s used to giving it to people who asked for it, who wanted it.

You’d never asked.

But you’re… not wrong. He’s not sure why he hadn’t picked up on it himself. It is a mean thing to say.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mei Mei protests, “I love Gojo, but you know I’m right about this.”

“Yeah, and I’ve known him my whole life,” Kamo adds. “It’s just a fact, we’re not talking shit.”

There’s a silence. Gojo’s invested now.

“I don’t know him that well,” you say. “Like I said. It’s just a mean thing to say about someone you hang out with every day.”

“Come on, don’t act like—”

“I think I’m going to go, actually,” you say. “This feels super shitty.”

“What the fuck was that?” Mei Mei laughs, just a second later — presumably after you’ve left the room.

“She wants to fuck him, I guess,” Kamo says.

Well, you’re making one hell of a headway then, because he’d do you so hard after that.

When he walks back in, you’re chatting with Shoko. You give him your usual, close-lipped smile, don’t quite make eye-contact. If you’re trying to get in his pants, you have a very original way of getting it done.

“Who was your friend again?” he asks Shoko, later that night. She answers without looking up from her phone.

“She doesn’t talk much when there are new people around,” she warns him. “Leave her alone.”

“When have I ever bothered anyone—”

She reaches to smack the back of his head, misses and gets the nape of his neck — that’s the downside about being so tall, there’s just a lot of him to hit.

“Don’t make her uncomfortable. That’s all I’m asking.”

He wasn’t planning on that. He’s just— curious. Intrigued.

It’s unlikely to last, though. He’s been known to get bored easily.

You’re already in the car when he gets in. Well, okay, when he gets shoved inside by Todo, despite his protests that his legs are too long for the backseat. You’ve squeezed yourself in the middle seat, with Shoko on one side, and him on the other now. There’s a bag of snacks in your lap, yet you still try to shift yourself to give him a little more room. It doesn’t help at all, but in your defense, the only thing that could help would be to buy a new car.

“Is everyone ready?” Suguru asks as he adjusts the rearview mirror.

“Sure,” Shoko says.

“Let’s go!” Todo shouts.

“No,” Gojo whines.

“Yeah,” you say, completely drowned out under the rest.

“Good,” Suguru hums as he starts the engine.

Gojo pouts, but he doesn’t insist. Well, he doesn’t make any more of a scene than he already has. Truth be told, he could have taken Todo — dude might be all brute force, but Gojo has brains and brawns, thank you very much.

But he’s curious, still, and he hasn’t been given enough information to quite satiate his curiosity. Everything he’s gathered about you says that you mind your business and keep to your corner.

So why did you say that to Mei Mei and Kamo? It makes no sense, but Gojo’s never met an equation he couldn’t solve.

That’s an overstatement. Obviously there are equations he can’t solve. Yet. He’s sure he’d figure it out eventually. Like he’ll figure you out. See? That metaphor does make sense.

Suguru’s music is playing in the car. The sun is still low in the sky, the day is quickly getting warmer, and the phone says that they’ll be at the beach in two hours.

Satoru closes his eyes. Fun fact about him? He can fall asleep anywhere he wants to.

He wakes up with his face smooshed against the window, a hand tapping his shoulder carefully.

“We’re here,” you say, giving him a smile and then shuffling to leave the car from the other side.

Todo’s already running towards the beach, while Suguru and Shoko are getting the bags out of the trunk. Somehow, Shoko manages to sling a bag over his shoulder, but he takes off before she can stuff the cool box containing all the drinks in his arms.

He then lies to Todo to get him back to the car, so that he can carry the damn thing. Shoko better thank him later for that.

He catches up with you, and he sees your eyes widen a little when he approaches, as you visibly search for something to say. He can’t resist the temptation to shoot you a grin. There’s a light breeze in the air, but he won’t be fooled that easily — with his skin, he’s going to need an insane amount of sunscreen, if he wants to survive the day. Which makes him think, actually—

“Wanna help me apply sunscreen?” he asks.

“Huh?” you say.

He leans towards you, looks into your eyes from over his sunglasses. You appear to be fully frozen in place, only swallowing once as he gets closer. His grin gets wider as he takes in all of you, and he’s once more fascinated by the idea that you had been able to say something to Mei Mei and Kamo but you can barely face him.

His gaze drops to your parted lips.

Then the bottle of sunscreen smashes against his cheek with impressive precision.

“Todo can help you put that on!” Shoko offers as Suguru starts setting up a parasol. “Right, Todo?”

“Of course I will, my brother,” Todo say as he appears, but by then, Satoru has already started running for his life.

“Just kick him in the balls if he pulls something like that again,” Shoko says.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” you reply, shaking your head in mild horror. “I just— I don’t— know— how to react sometimes. But he doesn’t bother me.”

That statement has her raising an eyebrow at you, filled with doubt, but she doesn’t insist.

“Play nice,” she does warn Satoru once more, later on. “Don’t push it too much.”

“Aw, Shoko, are you saying you wouldn’t approve of me?”

“Do whatever you want to,” she replies, rolling her eyes, “but give her more space. She’s not used to you being… you.”

Satoru rests his chin on his knee. He’s taking refuge under the parasol for now, and you’re already in the waves with Todo and Suguru. You seem comfortable with Todo, laughing at something he said, less so with Suguru. It all looks like a lot of work, all to satiate his curiosity. He’s all about committing to the bit but— he doesn’t know about that one.

This, too, all this thinking and questioning, is a lot of work, though, so he ends up shrugging it off.

“Are we getting in or what?”

“Absolutely not. No— Gojo— Don’t you fucking dare— Gojo!”

Shoko’s full-on shrieking by the time he throws her in the water. You burst out laughing. She comes out screaming for revenge, and Gojo starts scampering around to try and avoid her.

The sun is high in the sky, there’s a light breeze.

The time is good.

“Satoru!” Suguru calls when the watch on his wrist starts beeping, “it’s been two hours!”

It takes a second for the information to reach his brain, but the second he understands it, Gojo’s sprinting back towards the parasol at full speed. You look up, surprised, from the towel on which you’re lying with a book. Shoko doesn’t even bother with lifting an eyelid to see what’s going on.

“You okay?” you ask.

Ah, so she does speak.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, ruffling through a bag. “Just need to reapply some sunscreen. I’m not trying to look like a lobster.”

“Oh,” you say, “so, did you want me to help you with that?”

His fingers finally close around the bottle, and he stills to look at you. Shit. He’s curious again. Shoko’s words are swirling around in his mind, though, and he has no interest in forcing your hand.

“You didn’t look like you wanted to do that,” he says with uncharacteristic caution.

You roll your lips together, glance away from him, and your hand curls into a fist in the sand.

“No, it’s just— Um, I’m sorry about earlier. You— caught me off guard, I guess. I couldn’t figure out what to answer.”

“I usually just go with whatever appears through my head first,” he shrugs as he comes to crouch in front of you — you in the sun, him in the shade.

You laugh softly, but you avert your eyes, focusing on the sand as you trace patterns in it.

“Yeah, I think that’s the preferred method, but it— doesn’t— really work for me. So I have— I have a script, kind of, for interactions.”

“And I was off script?”

You glance back up at him.

“You’re always off script.”

For a moment, he just looks into your eyes, and you look back without any of that earlier nervousness. Then you shrink back into yourself, and the smile that so rarely leaves your lips reappears, like a shield that comes back up.

“Sorry. I know— I know how silly this sounds. I also wish I didn’t feel the need to do that, I just, um—”

“All good,” he replies with a shrug. “Sure. Help me with that.”

He throws you the bottle and you miss it, and he can feel you eyerolling at his back without needing to turn around, but when he shoots you a grin from over his shoulder, he can see how your breath catches in your throat.

Softly, your hand goes over his back, your touch gentle and cautious. It feels quite nice, actually, especially when your nails brush over his skin.

“It’s not too cold?” you ask.

“All good,” he repeats.

Shit. He’s invested again.

“Okay, we have the tickets, we have the water bottles, we have the hats, we have flat shoes, we have Gojo, we have the car keys—”

“I’m sorry, why was I just in the middle of a list of belongings?”

“We have cellphones and portable batteries… I think we’re good,” Shoko concludes, fully ignoring him.

“You don’t think we’re just a touch overprepared?” Suguru asks.

“You can never overprepare, my brother,” Todo says, grabbing his shoulder firmly. “If you want to triumph in the face of adversity, you need to know everything about the enemy.”

Suguru opens his mouth, closes it again. He knows how to pick his battles.

Gojo doesn’t.

“We’re going to a festival, not trying to breech the Pentagon,” he deadpans, and then, from the corner of his eye, he tries to see if you’re laughing. He delights in how you lower your head and try to keep it discreet.

“You never know what—”

“If I have to hear a second more of this nonsense, I swear to God I’ll kill someone here,” Shoko announces cheerfully. “Let’s move.”

Finally, after a good fifteen minutes by the door of the Airbnb you’ve all spent the night in, you start moving.

The good news is that you don’t have to get in the car, in the smothering heat, to get on the overcrowded streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. The bad news is that you have to walk there, in the smothering heat, near the streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. Suguru’s in charge of the map, which everyone seems happy with. Gojo had offered to do it, too, and there’s not a shred of doubt that he’d be able to read it competently, but Shoko had insisted the risk of him taking everyone to the wrong place ‘just because it would be funny’ was too high.

She’d been right but like, that was still rude.

The march in the heat and the waiting in line, while painful and unpleasant, as Gojo makes sure everyone around him is well aware of, go pretty smooth. Everything is planned and accounted for. There’s a game plan once they make it into the festival, too, because of course there is, but that’s when things start going south. First, Todo tries to go rogue when he spots someone wearing Takada merch. She’s not performing here, but he’s heard rumors that there would be a stand for her, and he lurches towards the woman. He’d get lost in the crowd immediately if not for Gojo’s lightning fast reflexes.

Unfortunately, soon enough it’s Gojo’s turn to get distracted. What can he say, there’s the smell of sugar in the air, and he needs to know where it’s coming from. Suguru’s the one to get him back on track, as they all head towards the main stage. Because that’s what Shoko’s grand plan leads to: sweet, sweet, close-up spots to watch the Sorcerers, headliners for the festival and also unarguably greatest band of all times, with minimum wait before their show.

There are a couple other close calls, but the group manages to get close enough to the stage. There are people here already, but they’re here for other artists mostly, and they’ll no doubt move quite a bit before the start of the real show. From where they are, even you and Shoko will be able to— Wait a minute.

“Huh,” Gojo say. “Hey, Shoko, do you happen to see (y/n) around?”

“If you can’t see her from up there, why would you think I— Fuck.”

“A fallen soldier,” Todo sighs somberly. “Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices for—"

“We should go get her,” Shoko interrupts him. She’s biting her lower lip, staring at her phone. She looks quite worried, Gojo notices as he stares at her.

“Why isn’t it enough to just text her?” Gojo asks. It’s not ideal, and it won’t be easy to find the group in the middle of this sea of people, but it’s not impossible.

“I just— I don’t know if she’ll want to deal with all that” she gestures at the crowd “alone. I’m afraid she’ll say she doesn’t mind and then she won’t have a good time.”

Gojo tilts his head. It wouldn’t cross his mind to say something he doesn’t mean. It’s an incredibly weird thought, actually. But Shoko’s better than him at, well, people, and she might have a point. He also doesn’t want you to have a bad time, after all. With one last glance at the stage, he nods at her.

“I’ll go get her.”

“Are you sure?” Suguru asks. “I can go, if you want me to. It’s your band.”

As if it isn’t his, too. But Gojo shrugs. His attention span is fleeting, and he’s got his sights on something else right now.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’ll make it back.”

“Thanks,” Shoko says sincerely.

He waves vaguely at her before making his way back through the crowd, earning his fair share of nasty glances. He still doesn’t care.

A few minutes later, he receives a text from Shoko with a screengrab where you say you’re getting something to eat. Sure enough, he has no trouble finding you waiting in line. You’re typing on your phone, not paying attention to your surroundings, and he’s grinning already. He lets himself half fall on you, arm wrapping around your body as he drops his chin onto your shoulder. You jump, glancing back bewildered, but you don’t stay tense long once you see it’s him.

Which makes him feel things, actually, but he’ll unpack that later.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, brow furrowing. “I thought you guys would be in front of the stage by now.”

“I came to rescue the princess, obviously,” he says, and you laugh. You laugh a lot when he talks, instead of rolling your eyes like people usually do.

Maybe you’re a bit too good of an audience.

“I don’t need rescuing, Gojo,” you answer, and it’s interesting how calm your voice is. “It’s packed too tight for me in here. I told Shoko but…” You shrug. “It’s not always easy to understand how it is. For me.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t get it at all.”

Your shoulder’s pretty comfortable, though. And you haven’t tried to get him off of you yet.

“Do you want to order something, too?” you ask, pointing at the food stand. They sell waffles, and just the smell has his mouth watering. “Strawberries and whipped cream, right?”

Gojo pauses.

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it. A few times, actually.”

He’s sure he has, but—

“You were listening to that?”

You blink at him. He realizes how close your face is, with his head on your shoulder.

“Of course I was. You were talking.”

“Shoko didn’t tell you? It’s like, rule number one of being around me, don’t listen to the stuff I say. There’s a lot of dumb shit in there.”

You tilt your head, looking kind of confused.

“I still want to hear what you’re saying.”

Something inside him feels warm all of a sudden. Very warm.

“Yeah,” he says, but his throat is tight. “Strawberries and whipped cream.”

When you step forward to they can take your order, he begrudgingly gets off your shoulder, which allows him to swipe his card before you can get to it.

“I had that,” you protest while he bites into the insane amount of whipped cream in his waffle — he asked for more until the guy behind the counter looked like he was going to murder him.

“I had it first,” he says, and then he sticks his tongue out at you. He anticipates your laugh this time, finds himself waiting on it. When it comes, it sounds just like he wanted it to.

For a while, the two of you sit on a fence. You hand him a water bottle, say that he needs to stay hydrated. With no one else around, you don’t seem to have such a hard time speaking. You’re so quiet when everyone’s there and, well, him and Todo take up a lot of space, when it comes to conversation. Neither Suguru nor Shoko struggle with making their voices heard either, and in the middle of all that, you tend to stay silent. Apparently, that doesn’t stop you from listening.

“Shouldn’t you be going back?” you ask, after a while.

Gojo tilts his head as he thinks about it.

“Nah, I’m good. Let’s find some place where you can enjoy the show.”

“You don’t have to—”

A grin, and then he’s jumping from the fence to come stand in front of you. Even like that, he doesn’t have to look up to meet your eyes.

“And how d’you plan on stopping me?”

Your eyes go wide. He can almost hear your heart racing, and he thinks he’s starting to get a little too high on that feeling. It’s just so easy, so fun, so delicious.

“Okay,” you squeak, averting your eyes and jumping down after him, clearly trying to hide your reaction. “Okay, I’m coming.”

When you start walking by his side, grabbing your hand is just too easy not to do it.

“Wouldn’t want you to run away again,” is what he says as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

You still refuse to look at him, but there is no actual discomfort in your reaction, just what he thinks is uncertainty about how you’re supposed to behave now.

“Have I gone off script again?” he practically purrs.

You glance up, a flash of amusement on your face. Lots of fondness, too, and this time he’s the one who gets caught up in it.

“You haven’t been on script once today.”

“Good,” he says, managing to pass off the emotion that just choked him for a second there as impatience. “Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“I’m always on my toes,” you mumble behind him, but you can’t explain to him what anxiety feels like, so you just let him drag you away. His fingers are long, his hand engulfs yours easily. You like the feeling of it more than you should.

Your eyes are on Gojo’s broad back as he pulls you through the crowd, which parts effortlessly for him. You’re enjoying this.

You don’t think it’s going to last.

Gojo doesn’t think about that though, just like he rarely thinks about tomorrows. What he’s thinking about, as he keeps far, far away from the stage, is how to find a place with enough air around for the two of you. It’s easy for him to get a good look at the stage, and he earns his fair share of pissed off glares — “Seriously, it should be illegal to come to an open-air stage when you’re that tall” — but it takes more work to get the perfect space for you. Finally, his eagle eyes figure out some place that’s just perfect, and he beelines for it with you in tow.

“There,” he says, pulling you in front of him and putting his head on top of yours, just to check that the line of sight is good enough.

Ha. He nailed it.

“Thanks,” you say. There’s surprise in your tone.

“Is this a good spot for you?” he checks, but really, he just wants to hear you praise him?

“It is, but— I thought you said you didn’t get it? My—” You gesture vaguely. “—struggle. With all that stuff.”

Oh right. You actually listen to what he says. He needs to keep that in mind for the future.

“Does it matter?” he asks with a shrug.

You stare. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out, and then the crowd starts absolutely howling and you spin around to see the Sorcerersget on the stage. Whatever moment there was there, is forgotten right away. He sees you fish in your bag for your phone, then raise it over your head and tiptoe around, trying to get a good photo.

It’s cute, it’s adorable even, but it’s not very efficient.

“Do you want some help here?” he asks, leaning close to your ear so you can hear him over all the noise.

Your body shivers into him, and he files that away for later.

“Um, yeah,” you shout over the noise. “Here, could you—”

But he pays no attention to the way you offer him your cellphone, and instead he’s bending down, and ignoring your surprised protest as he pushes his head between your legs.

He bench presses a hell of a lot more than he looks like he does, for the record.

With a grunt, he manages to get you up on his shoulders, and some people behind him complain loudly, but whatever, they can wait for you to get the perfect picture. You struggle to stabilize yourself for a dangerous second, and then you stop moving around for a second. Your thighs are supple and warm under his hands and around his head.

One more thing to remember.

“I’m good, I’m good, get me down,” you say quickly, just as he’s storing the thought away.

You seem relieved when your feet get back on the ground, and Satoru lets his hands linger on your waist.

“Was it a nice pic?” he asks. He knows he’s all red in the face, but he’s grinning so wide it almost hurts, actually.

“Perfect,” you squeak. “Thank you. Again.”

Aw. He’s going to get used to that word real quick.

A familiar guitar riff comes from the stage, and you turn away from him once more, but his hands are still on your waist. He uses that to pull you against him and this time, you don’t hesitate to let yourself lean back against him as the two of you move in rhythm with the music.

The concert is a blur after that. There’s a lot of singing, a lot of screaming, basically no time to catch a breath, because the Sorcerers are fucking beasts that don’t let up, not even for a second. At some point, you tell him something, but he can’t really hear, so you crane your neck back and he lowers his head. Your lips brush against his neck, an accident really, but it sends such a jolt of electricity through him, he thinks he’ll go into full overdrive.

The only thing that stops him from chasing after your lips immediately after that is Shoko’s voice, going around in his mind. ‘Don’t push it.’ What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You move away, and he still has no clue what you were saying. If after that, his hands hold your hips a little tighter, if he pulls you a little closer, he can’t be blamed. If, during one of the more sulfurous song of the show, as you’re swaying against him, humming along to the song, his lips find your neck, he doesn’t want to hear about it.

When he presses a kiss right by your jaw, you turn to look at him. You’re pretty. He’s always thought you were pretty.

Fuck Shoko, he thinks, and he’s ready to put his mouth on yours, to slide his tongue between your parted lips that have looked so inviting this entire week-end, when the riff of the band’s most popular song starts playing, and he loses you attention once more.

Cock-blocked by his favorite band. Fuck his life.

When the song ends, there’s movement in the crowd as the band gets off the stage and people start chanting for an encore. In Shoko’s fool proof, perfect plan, this is when you’re supposed to start leaving. Gojo doesn’t want to — how is he supposed to do anything about how much he wants his mouth on you once you’re back with the other — but this time you grab his hand and pull him away from the stage and he has even less of a clue of what he’s supposed to do about that.

You get to the meeting point before Shoko, Todo and Suguru, which makes sense, considering you were much further from the stage than them. It’s a specific pole that Shoko had pointed to as you were first getting in, and the urge to push you against it and to taste your lips is strong. Gojo isn’t typically one to ignore that kind of feeling. He just goes for it, doesn’t let his brain get in the way too much. He’s not sure what it is with you and your doe eyes and your sweet smile that makes him act different.

Whatever it is, it makes him ask “Did you have a good time?” instead of kissing you senseless behind the pole while watching to make sure Shoko doesn’t catch him in the act.

“It was amazing,” you say. “I don’t think— I don’t think I’d have gotten that close without you.”

“Did I force your hand?” he asks, frowning.

“No, no, that was great, actually.” And there it comes, his favorite words, and then he’ll kiss you. “Thank—”

“There you guys are!”

You have got to be kidding him. The Gods of timing are so set against him, he must have done something to piss them off badly in another life.

“Okay, we should start heading towards the exit,” Shoko announces.

“Nah, we ‘re staying until the end,” Gojo says, burying his hands, balled into fists, in his pockets. He’s being needlessly belligerent, but whatever, she deserves it, whether she knows it or not.

“Don’t be a dick,” she glares.

He smiles at her. And he doesn’t budge.

“We’ll run,” you say, stepping in. “I’m sure we can still beat the crowd if we run.”

She narrows her eyes at you, then at Gojo.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

So many delicious thoughts coming to him, and he can’t do anything about it. Damn it all.

Of course, it ends with the five of you sprinting on the lawn and all the way back to the house. Of course, he doesn’t catch five seconds with you after that. Of course, your face is on his mind the whole night.

Of course, because it’s just his luck, isn’t it, in the morning, Shoko tells him you had to catch a flight early in the morning.

“I told you, don’t you remember? She’s going back to her family for the summer.”

Of course, he doesn’t.

Ah, whatever. It bothers him for a minute, but then the day continues unfolding, and the sun’s warm, it’s the peak of summer, and he only really knew you for a couple of days. He’ll see how he feels about it when college starts up again in the fall. He’s not known for sticking with things, anyway. He’ll probably forget; you probably won’t capture him again like you did; it was probably a fluke.

That, or these will become famous last words.

sequel

thank you so much for reading! i had a ton of fun writing gojo's pov and i hope you enjoyed it too, even if i'm still finding his voice :) please reblog or comment if you've enjoyed this, i'd love to hear from you! getting readers' feedback on my writing is what keeps me motivated to write so if you'd like to read more from me, that's the way to do it!

tagging the people who expressed interest in this: @elidebrey @xstom @chosospookiebear @xmysticredx

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #my writing #gojo imagine #jjk imagine #jjk x y/n

[desertskiespodcast]

I tried to write a novel. Not once. Not twice. But about 12 times. Here's how that would play out: 1. I sit down and knock out 10 pages 2. I share it with someone 3. They say "It's goooood" like it's not good 4. I ask for critical feedback 5. They say, "Well....the plot just moves so quickly. So much happens in the first few pages it doesn't feel natural." So I'd write more drafts. I'd try to stretch out the story. I would add dialogue that I tried to make interesting but thought was boring. I would try including environment and character descriptions that felt unnecessary, (why not just let people imagine what they want?) Anyways, I gave up trying to write because in my mind, I wasn't a fiction writer. Maybe I could write a phonebook or something. But then I made a fiction podcast, and I waited for the same feedback about the fast moving plot, but guess what??? Podcasts aren't novels. The thing that made my novels suck became one of the things that made Desert Skies work. I've received some criticism since the show started, but one thing I don't receive regular complaints about is being overly-descriptive or longwinded. In fact, the opposite. It moves fast enough that it keeps peoples attention. I always felt I had a knack for telling stories but spent years beating myself up because I couldn't put those stories into novel form. The problem wasn't me. The problem was the tool I was trying to use. All that to say: If, in your innermost parts you may know that you're a storyteller but you just can't write a book, don't give up right away. You can always do things to get better and there's a lot of good resources. But if you do that for a while and novel writing just isn't your thing, try making a podcast, or creating a comic, or a poem, or a play, or a tv script. You might know you're an artist but suck at painting. Try making a glass mosaic, or miniatures, or try charcoal portraits, or embroider or collage. You might know you're a singer, but opera just isn't working out. Why not yodel? I could keep listing out examples, but the point is this. Trust your intuitions when it comes to your creative abilities, but don't inhibit yourself by becoming dogmatic about which medium you can use to express that creativity. Don't be afraid to try something new. Don't be afraid to make something new. You might just find the art form that fits the gift you knew you always had, and what it is might surprise you

#audio drama #writing #desert skies #science fiction #fantasy

[hoshigray]

Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔 #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x black reader #miguel o'hara fic #spiderman smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #spider man 2099 smut #miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #edit: it's been two days and I'm STILL seeing grammar/spelling errors I'M SO FUCKING TIRED

[be-missed]

Find You Again

Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

(pictures not mine)

Summary: Reuniting as stars, former high school sweethearts stage a fake relationship to boost their public image. Navigating the scripted romance, sparks fly. The big question: can this staged connection reignite their real love?

Warning: curse words, notify me if there are any. Credits to the owner for the picture that I used below the cut.

A/N: I'm so excited to write this, enjoy. New series for y'all.

Song: I Can See You // Taylor Swift

Masterlist

Chap 1

______________________________________________________________

Flashing lights are all that Y/N can see, facing all the cameras in different angles, her name being shout by different people, and different set of eyes are focused on her. Walking the red carpet was one of the things that Y/N enjoys when she is invited for an event like the MET Gala; the other things that she enjoys, well, the women who walks with their wonderful dresses. Men? Not really, but the press and the people doesn't need to know that.

"You are staring" a voice from behind her said—her publicist, Emilia notified her when she was staring far too long to the woman that was in front of her. Y/N just shrugs and shakes her head, waiting for her turn to be interviewed.

A few minutes have passed, she is now the next in line to be interviewed, "So Y/N, what a lovely fit you have. Can you tell us who you are wearing?" the interviewer asked, and Y/N answered, "I am so honored to be chosen as one of Givenchy's Ambassador for this event, honoring one of the most prominent person that anyone knows in fashion..."

Y/N's voice got buried with a loud screaming from the bottom of the stairs. Fortunately Y/N got to finish her answer before she looked down. Then there she was, looking like a doll, dress to kill, looks that can melt; Jenna Ortega was standing in the bottom of the stairs, posing for every camera that she caught.

A smile creeping in Y/N's mouth has been caught by the reporter and the camera, this gave the reporter a chance to segue a hot topic that you and Jenna dance around, answering yet not giving the exact information that the people want, "Looks like Jenna Ortega arrived in the house, there have been rumors going around for quite some time now, that the two of you have a history?" the reporter asked with a malice on his voice.

Y/N smiled and answered "Well, we were uhm, friends way before our careers, so yes, we did know each other and yes I can say that we have a great history, but there's no bad blood between us" and chuckles, that leads to the reporters new question "So, if that's what it is, is she the muse for the new single titled 'I Can See You' that you dropped a few weeks ago and will perform later?"

Y/N chuckles and rubs her chin, trying to think of a way to dodge the question, "I mean, Jenna is a wonderful woman, I can't deny that, WE can't deny that. But you know, where is the fun of writing songs if I'm just gonna admit who I'm writing for, right?" Y/N leaves with a wink to the camera and entering the venue.

"That was fucking close. What's with the media trying to come up with something between me and Jenna? It's been going on for months" Y/N whispered to Emilia, trying to find a champagne that she can drink. "There are photos that are circulating in the internet from when you were in High School with Jenna" her publicist answered.

This statement made Y/N look at her publicist with a questing look "Okay, now what? I mean what can they make out of the pictures? I'm pretty sure Jenna is denying it for sure" and got the chance to seat at their designated table. "Yeah, she's totally not denying it, the both of you kept on giving vague answers. But they are the media and your fans, connecting every song that you write and the events that happens to your life and Jenna's life," Emilia said with a knowing look and sipping a champagne.

"How? I mean, I kept on using a he/him pronouns on my song to lower the connection. Don't tell me they are that smart to know and connect things, don't you?" Y/N said to her publicist, looking so worried about the on-going rumor that can't seem to die.

On the other side of the venue, Jenna was taking a seat with Enrique trying to hide an annoyed look. "What's with the rumors and Y/N, they kept on reoccurring, why can't it die?" Jenna said trying to fidget with pearls that on her dress. "You know that the both of you aren't denying anything, right?" Enrique said to the girl.

Jenna then send Enrique a look that can kill and said "I am denying it, that's for sure. While HER, she keeps on dancing around it" Enrique then shakes his head "Oh no darling, you weren't denying it, the BOTH of you are dancing around it. Please don't deny it" then Jenna answered him so quick "I am denying it, I kept on saying no..."

Enrique just chuckles and said "See, the both of you aren't denying anything. You and Y/N always say that the both of you are 'good friends' and for the record, the both of you are always in the same event" and ended his sentence with a shrug trying to prove his point.

Jenna just rolled her eyes and tries to listen to whoever is speaking. While Y/N got called backstage to get ready to perform.

The host announced that Y/N was about to perform. Lights were dimmed and a shadow in the middle can be seen, the intro starts, and the crowd began to applaud and scream for Y/N's name.

Jenna noticed the intro and looked at Enrique and said "Really, she's gonna sing this? Out of all the songs?" and Enrique chuckled at the comment and replied "Well that's her new song, what can we do but to listen and enjoy, right?"

The performance ended with pyrotechnics in the stage and a wild crowd.

As the host again took over the stage, Jenna decided that she needed another drink, because what the fuck was that lyric, it just added gas to the burning fire, nice move, she thought in a sarcastic tone.

"One sour whiskey please" Jenna said to the bar tender, wanting to seat in the bar stool but sadly, her gown is restricting her. While she was waiting for her drink, whispers can be heard from behind her, not wanting to know the drama she still decided to maintain her focus on the bar.

"Nice dress you have there"

Once the voice registered, her eyes widen and her hand clenches into fist. Thinking if she ignores the voice, it will just go away, because if she faces the other girl tonight, she don't know if she will make a scene. But to no avail, the voice speak again, now beside her.

"I said you look good in your dress, Miss Ortega" Jenna heard, now feeling a smirk plastered on Y/N's face. With all her might Jenna faced the other girl with a tight smile, her hand clenched by her side and said "I heard you the first time, you know?" with an eyebrow raised, "Oh so you were just ignoring me then?" Y/N said now trying to make a sad face.

Jenna's jaw clenched, how can Y/N take this like a joke, "Yes you are right, I am ignoring you" focusing back on the bartender, "But I thought we were 'good friends', right" Y/N answered while trying to tease Jenna, "In case if you didn't notice, I say that for us to have neutral grounds, now can you please piss off?" Jenna answered and thought that it might be a little harsh but she really just want to be away from Y/N.

Before Y/N got to say something, the bartender gave Jenna her drink, and when she's ready to walk away, a photographer got in her way and said "Hey Y/N and Jenna, can you please pose so that I can take a shot"

Y/N greeted the photographer with a smile and accepted the request, she pulls Jenna near her, while Jenna tries to stay her ground, "Come girls closer" the photographer again said and Y/N thought, "This man surely knows how to stir the pot"

The both of them smiled for the camera, closer than they have been for 5 years. This was the first picture of them that they were this close to each other after their career boomed and well, after what they had.

"Thanks ladies, enjoy the night" the photographer said and left the duo. "Okay you can let go now" Jenna said, "For your information, I also don't like being linked to you, so I came here to clear things out, yeah?" Y/N said with a nod in her head.

That surprises Jenna "Okay, I get that, then go on and deny that we had a history" Jenna said challenging Y/N, "You first, you are always out doing interview, unlike me, I don't have any premiere shows or any other events like this" Y/N smirked.

It made Jenna's blood boil again, inhale and exhale, she reminded herself. She doesn't want to make a scene and be banned to this gala, this is her second time, she doesn't want it to be her last she thought.

Y/N walked away and left Jenna stunned with her drink on hand.

---

After the MET Gala, of course there would be an after party, Jenna was invited to many but decided to go to the nearest one to her hotel.

Trying to fix her make-up inside the car that she is on, she hears Enrique say, "Okay, slow down with the drinks, we don't need you going around the place" with a knowing look, Jenna then replied "That was ONE time oh my god, please let that go" with an annoyed tone.

Her car stopped at the entrance, looking outside through her window she saw a dozen of paparazzi trying to get a picture of none other than Y/F/N Y/L/N.

"Fuck, no fucking way" Jenna said to Enrique, still looking at the window, "What? What's the problem?" Enrique asked her worriedly, "Y/N is here, I can't stand another minute of faking smiles with her, every time I see her I fell like my stomach churns and I want to vomit so bad. Enrique please, let's go to another party" Jenna pleaded that earned a shakes to Enrique's head.

"Nope, can't be, your manager chose this party so you can mingle with different artist. I can't say no to that, and you know it" Enrique stated with a stern look, not giving Jenna a chance to say another word.

With a grunt Jenna whispers to herself "Here goes nothing" and exits the car. Another set of cameras are now trying to capture Jenna and her outfit for the afterparty, looking at the entrance, she saw Y/N rolled her eyes, Jenna thought "The fucking nerve of this girl t roll her eyes"

Now that they are in the same vicinity again, the paparazzi wasted no time and asked for a picture of them together, which they don't say no, since they don't want to cause another issue.

Y/N greeted Jenna with an open arm and huge smile, when Jenna got situated next to Y/N, she heard the other girl say "Are you stalking me?" which made Jenna look at the girl, with the heels that she is wearing, she stepped on Y/N's toe that made Y/N jerked in pain, with a worried voice Jenna said "Are you okay?"

With that, the security ushered the cameras away and assisted the both of them inside.

"DO you really need to step on me?" Y/N said, "Oh, I didn't mean to, really" Jenna answered, voice filled with sarcasm. Y/N have a deadpan look not believing what Jenna said "Yeah? You sure there?" Y/N said challenging Jenna, and that made Jenna smile "Of course not, I would do it again and again."

With that, Jenna left Y/N speechless. Y/N thought to herself "Is she that fucking angry at me? What did I even do to her?" and proceeded to enter the party and mingle with other artists.

The party actually went well for the both of them, avoiding each other like a plague, Y/N performing in the party and joining the DJ in the booth while Jenna tries to expand her connections and tries to know new faces.

Another hour have passed and Y/N was now taking a break from all the mingling and faking smiles and went to the bathroom, as if like faith is trying to take the both of them as a joke, she saw Jenna bending over the sink.

"Are you fine?" voiced laced with worry as Y/N walked slowly towards Jenna, "Don't come near me" Jenna said head still hanging low. Y/N stopped in her track and said "You are tipsy... or like drunk? You need to go home."

The statement made Jenna look at Y/N and said "What now, you're my mom now?" Y/N just rolled her eyes knowing that it is impossible to argue with a drunk Jenna. Y/N fished out her phone and texted someone, "Come on, I'll bring you to your hotel, can you tell me where it is?" Y/N asked while staying on her track.

"No, I won't go with you, I don't want to go with you can't you see that? Leave me alone" Jenna said trying to fix her make-up in front of the mirror, "Why not? You clearly can't walk straight I bet" Y/N said and chuckled. Jenna hates it, she hates that Y/N is right, that is why she is in the corner holding herself through the sink and not moving an inch because she knows she'll stumble with her drunk state and her heels so high.

Y/N take Jenna's silence as a cue to go to the other girl and support her. Jenna then said "We can't be seen going home together, I don't wanna be seen with you" It made Y/N's heart ache, is she that fucking bad in Jenna's perspective to the point that she doesn't want to be seen with her? Y/N just swallowed down the pain that she feels.

"Yeah, I messaged Enrique, he will meet us at the entrance and I'll make sure to not be seen with you." with a heavy sigh, Y/N supported Jenna to walk out of the bathroom through the crowd of people inside the party and into the entrance.

"Jenna, Enrique said he'll meet us at the front" Y/N notified and it made Jenna shakes her head "No... Y/N Nooooo" Jenna whined, it made Y/N chuckle, if she can have Jenna like this every time, not wanting to cut her throat, or sending sarcastic comments, she would make Jenna drink alcohol for as long as she wants, but she knows she can't.

But like their situation right now, Enrique can't really enter so they need to meet him in front.

"Jenna, I'm very sorry but we really need to meet him in front" Y/N said and telling to the security that they will go out of the establishment, which the security ushered them to.

Flashes of light welcomed them to the outside world, not far enough Y/N saw Enrique waiting for Jenna. "Thanks, I'm really sorry I can't meet you inside" Enrique said which Y/N answered "It's okay, take care, I'll be back inside"

___

"WE CAN SEE YOU: Jenna Ortega and Y/F/N Y/L/N seen going home together after the after party for the MET GALA"

Actress Jenna Ortega and Singer Y/F/N Y/L/N seen together leaving the after party hand in hand. But before this, they are also seen in the red carpet, fans capturing how the singer look at the actress. They have also been asked with questions pertaining to them being together but the both of them swam around the topic. Another photo of them was released mingling by the the bar inside the MET, having all smiles and flirting with each other.

Their fans have been speculating that they were together ever since High School and just kept it lowkey due to their reputation and their careers. The fans also tried to make sense of Y/N's released songs and connected it to the actress, which can somehow make sense, but we can't be for sure knowing that the singer also have a list of exes.

The fans and the media seemed to not disagree and hate their dynamic, instead they hope that what they speculate is real, knowing and seeing how beautiful they look together.

Stay tuned for the latest update towards our favorite couple, or may I say duo? Who knows, right?

______________________________________________________________

A/N: Hope you enjoy this new series, thoughts?

Chapter 2

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #fanfic #fiction #jenna ortega imagine #findyouagain

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 "𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐠"

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | A night after Homecoming has you reveling in the loneliness of your mind, but a drug dealer "meandering" his way by is there to solve your issues, especially after finding a particular toy of yours.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, mentions of drugs/drug dealing, minor comments about food, feelings of embarrassment, overthinking, mentions of mean friends/exclusion, loneliness, insecurities, and explicit sexual content: fondling, one spank, edging, orgasm denial, praise kink, sir kink, oral (female receiving), rimming (female receiving), anal play/fingering, use of sex toy (butt plug), and unprotected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Everyone be honest: do you actually enjoy my writing being this long, when little to nothing is happening? I don't know, I feel like I dramatically wrote this, it's kinda comical. Also, this is literally an entire Soundgasm audio I heard, but can no longer find- the agony! All script credits to them, I’ll try to link it once I do find it! And, @strangerstilinski is a lot better at Pinterest than me, so big, loveable thanks to you for the photos!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

Cold and creamy, the slab of lotion smearing its enriching silk onto the skin of your shaven legs to prevent that inevitable itch in a couple days had been the only thing to smooth over your mind in the suffocating humidity of your bathroom. But even then, the sweetening smell of coconuts and vanilla couldn’t fully appease your feelings from the nagging reality of how isolated you felt from the people closest to you. 

Quinton Reeves.

For whatever reason, retired number ninety-five of Hawkins High’s baseball conference champions of 1983, still had the popularity chokehold of high schoolers, despite the matter of being into his second year of his community college career, while brandishing the golden name tag of the multiplex theater he hadn’t left since junior year. Something about giving away free tickets to greedy teenagers, that’s what made him “cool,” though utterly pathetic in your eyes. 

But unfortunately, in the eyes of swooning cheerleaders, Quinton Reeves’ “maturity” had made his Friday night rager on Old Cherry Road the main priority of your friends’ plans, after a grueling night of sore toes and itchy fabric that was the Homecoming dance. An actual celebration, where booze monitoring or debauchery dance moves couldn’t be policed by the faculty of your soon to be alma mater. Not that it was celebrating much, those green and orange jerseys adorned by the most admired only saw scuff marks with no touchdowns; yet another year of despair for Hawkins High’s athletic department. And yet, somehow a trophy-less trophy cabinet did little to sway the big egos of the prim and proper. Funny. So now, you sigh, basking in a night of a hot shower, trying to exfoliate and shave off that icky feeling in you that you knew resided deeper than superficially. 

Because while your friends drank the night away at Quinton Reeves’ Friday night rager on Old Cherry Road, you sat forlorn with a kitchen full of purchased junk food, a bathroom full of face masks, a bedside table full of magazines, and a television stand full of movies, because despite being planned a week in advance—after you conveniently got left out of Stacy Wither’s girls night—Quinton Reeves’ Friday night rager on Old Cherry Road became more important than your girls night. 

Softened skin bundled in cozy clothes, you watched your saddened reflection in the foggy mirror of your bathroom, where a squeaking wipe to the condensation allowed for pellets of water to race down the glass. Beneath the mask of green gunk that claimed to heal those pesky bumps of raging hormones on your skin, you could still see the dampen expression of your sorrow face, where you recollected the comments of your so-called friends. 

Buzz-kill. Bummer. Borning. Rummaging through the entirety of the B section of Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Thesaurus just to really cement the fact that they wanted nothing to do with your itinerary-riddled girls night. 

You splashed your face with the wake of lukewarm water. To hell with them; your skin was glowing, body freshly cleaned, your scalp free from any solid itch of hairspray, fingers and toes wiggling with a beaming white polish, and you had an assortment of snacks to rake through while ogling at Ferris Bueller, watching him have a day off with his friends who actually care. Perhaps you should take a stroll through Chicago, and catch a Cubs game. It wasn’t anything but a state away. And if you got lucky, maybe you could find Sloane Peterson’s fringe jacket in your stack of magazines. 

Surely, Ferris Bueller was cuter than any twenty-one-year-old who still spent his weekends partying with high schoolers. 

Christ, a parked full driveway. 

Eddie, four hundred seventy-six dollars richer, Munson craned his neck, ticking his tongue at the scale of which your house stood at 11:28 p.m on this Friday night. One hesitant sniff at his shirt, and he regretted the decision of not moving Samara Lawson away any faster, when the drunken girl attempted the flirtatious endeavor of receiving that twenty-five percent discount you were always accustomed to. 

Perhaps her revenge on the dealer, himself, after he politely declined with a harsh line to his lips was forcing him to reek of booze after a tight hug to ensure her chest squished against his just enough that Samara Lawson surely thought it would deduct a dollar or two. It didn’t. 

“Fucking two stories, man…” Eddie sighed, kicking the mulch of your mother’s meticulously cared for garden, as the bricks of your home seemed to drag onward for an eternity from his five foot eleven stance (six feet if you’d ever ask). 

A towel in hand, you gently dabbed away the excess water from your face, before you turned to serums and creams to gently massage your face with, hoping to ease any worry lines your friends have cost you in the wake of disappointment. Mint flavoring of stringy floss proceeded to invade your mouth, as you plucked all you could from your teeth to triumph through your oral hygiene care. Not that it mattered, though, a party-sized bag of Doritos was awaiting its fate of being empty by the time Pretty in Pink began its course of replay. 

If Eddie Munson knew anything, it was the probable fact that your bedroom could be found from the dimly lit window on the left wing of your home, where white curtains cascaded against a potential entry to your room. In the instances in which Eddie found himself in the weekly routine of taking three steps up porch and three knocks to the door, the stained glass that adorned your front door for decorative reasons always allowed him the warped sight of you appearing from the left side of the second story, before bouncing down the stairs like Yasmin Bleeth running down Will Rogers State Beach. 

And for the brief one minute and thirty-seven seconds it took to exchange the half ounce for fifteen dollars—prolonged extensively by Eddie Munson’s attempt at small talk—Eddie lavished in the bubble that was your true element. While cheer skirts became devastatingly enticing when you wore them, something about pajama pants that pooled at your feet for the entirety of being too long with sweaters that swallowed your tiny hands in comparison to his truly had his heart cinching with the tight grasp of utter devotion. 

It became the only thing that inveigled him to make the thirty minute trek across town to deliver your demands. What a surprise it was when Chrissy Cunningham revealed the dealer, himself, never offered her home visits, after too many complaints of making the eerie journey through the woods to receive her goods had you suggesting to your friend to give him the call you did weekly. But a groaned out, “You know he’d never do that; his whole ‘I don’t come to you, you come to me’ policy,” had you perplexed in the face. He had never disclosed you of that. Huh.

“For the love of God, please just let me be right for once.” Eddie huffed, as his calloused hand collected itself around the gutters that followed alongside your home, which provided him the leverage to denounce the white window sills with dirty scuff marks of Hawkins’ muddy winter sleet. 

How more pathetic could you possibly look? A frown had permanently etched itself onto your face, where a fake smile was once plastered before Lucy Coleman informed you of the fact that no one was showing up to your scheduled ‘Homecoming’s Coming Home Girls Night.’ God, you even had a cute name for it… ish. 

Freaking twenty-one-year-old multiplex ushers. 

Giving up the bathroom for the night, a trip following the banister down to the kitchen became a dangerous game of stuffing your feelings with carbohydrates you’d eventually come to regret the next morning. Your father had made the safe assumption to ignore the ruckus of opening cabinets and crinkling wrappers that appeared behind him from the living room, because eighteen years of living with you had taught him you were always one, “are you okay?” away from exploding from the angsty teenage rage that bubbled inside you. By tomorrow, you’d eventually come to him with a sadden face and wails of a hurt tummy, and just like you were seven, he’d be there to comfort you with a hearty breakfast and open arms. 

Littered posters, rumpled white sheets of little red heart, a vanity besmirched with powders and glitters, and a heavy resemblance of laundry piles that mimicked his bedroom floor—saved from the blacks and denim, only colors and lace this time. If, for whatever reason, this wasn’t your bedroom, Eddie Munson would be heavily concerned. 

With an artillery load of snacks on hand, your father followed your huffy stomps through the living room and up the stairs. “Wanna save me some?” A joke terribly unappreciated on your part, as a scowl met his lighthearted smile.

Your bare toes dug into the carpeted steps to solidify your displeased mood. A little dramatic, and unserious, but only targeted to your flippant father, who found amusement in the little jabs that made your face crease like your mother’s. The actual hurt and betrayal that lingered within was still discreetly churning in your belly with the fretful epiphany of how lonely your friends made you feel. 

But as mentioned, that’d be a discussion for tomorrow morning, when you could cry into your scramble eggs. 

One step at a time, the view of your bedroom door—cracked, and flooding the hallway with the mustardness of lamps—came to light, as a guttural sigh left your mouth as a “fuck you” to the stir of messes you felt, pounding at your head with no mercy, as if the shitty friends you had wasn’t enough, they were capable of making you feel horrible, awful things. 

Yeah, fuck yo- “Ah!”  

Bags of chips and wrappers of candy avalanched down the doorway of your bedroom, as Eddie Munson’s already large eyes rounded to the ghastliness of yours, hunched and frozen in stance of that of a burglar, and suddenly Eddie was coming to the realization of how utterly creepy he looked.  

“Sweetpea?!”

“Hon?!”

A call from the living room, a call from your parents’ room; your mother and father’s voice boomed with concern of what could be another dramatic yell fueled by teenage temper or actual danger. But Eddie’s surrendering hands, with a look of desperate apologies that had to go unspoken unless he wanted to be caught by your parents had made it apparent that Hawkins’ local drug dealer who wandered about with a gaudy jewelry and hair you’d like to braid had little to offer when it came to harm. 

Also, the way in which his fretful finger was comically signaling to his prized lunchbox had let the understanding of business ventures finally hit you. 

“S-Sorry! Um, giant spider!” Stifling their consternation of any imminent danger, Eddie cracked a tiny smile, before treading down to your feet to pick up what he caused to drop in the first place. 

One after another, your pile of snacks were now being examined under the scrutiny of your drug dealer. “Friends coming over for a sleepover or somethin’?” 

Insulting. “No.” You mumbled with a particular sass he hadn't usually been indulged in, that had him quietly chuckling. God, him and your father would get along. 

Sat aside on your bedside table to be feasted upon when cute, unwarranted company couldn’t witness the giant devour, you quietly closed your bedroom door, and stood watching Eddie Munson awkwardly swing his arms. 

“You’re probably-”

“So, um-

“Oh, I’m sorry, go ahead.” He encouraged you with a tight-lipped smile.

You shrugged, and sat upon the edge of your bed. “I was just going to ask why you snuck into my room… at this hour.”

Eddie cleared his throat. “No, yeah, um, I realize how weird this must be, but, uh,” his eyes gallivanted to the notable furniture that adorned your bedroom—bookshelf, arm chair, desk—to avoid the knowing look on your face he’d have to be met with, because for whatever reason it was, it was now just painfully dawning on Eddie Munson how terrible of a move this was. “Well, I was just heading home, passing through the neighborhood,” lie, “and realized you weren’t at the party- Reeves’, I mean, you weren’t at Reeves’ party.”

And you truly gave the man, himself, little to offer with your subtle, “yeah,” that would force him to grab a crowbar to pry what little information he was willing to take for the night if it meant you’d just keep talking to him. 

“Just, uh, all your friends were there, bought from me n’ all, but, um, I don’t know, just kinda figured you’d be there with them since you always are.” He mustered out, as his eyes rapidly jumped about to scan the movements of your body. “And, well, didn’t see my number one customer.” 

And Eddie smiled, as your heart began pattering with stirring feelings that had your throat tightening with disbelief. “You came to check on me?” So softly spoken. 

“No, no.” Oh. How more embarrassing can this get for you? He might as well point and laugh in your face for being so lonely. “I-I, um, thought I could, uh, drop off your usual, y’know, squeeze in some extra cash.” Of course. “I saved you some.” Eddie patted his battered box. 

He watched your body deflate, and suddenly he wondered why he went that route, when it clearly caused the frown line on your face to deepen. “Right, um, thanks.” You sighed. Junk food and weed? At the very least, you could be high when crying tonight. 

One second to open your bedside drawer, but another second halted by Eddie’s voice that stopped your movements from stretching to reach for your wallet inside. “I- y’know what? Free of charge.” He propped open the metal lid to grasp onto the reserved baggie of the usual half ounce, before placing the lunchbox down to hand the substance to you. And he read you confused look quickly, as your hand hesitantly graced his fingers to take the goods. “Just, um, loyal customer, figured I should give back.” 

“Eddie, you already gave me a discount, I really don’t mind paying.” A promise to indemnify him for all that he already did. 

“Ah, well, you should, because I’ll be terribly offended if you do pay me.” He broke a smile that had your shoulders slumping with relaxation. “Just, uh, gotta let me hang here for a minute, if that’s okay with you.” 

“You want to stay here?” 

“Food, weed, and your company? C’mon, what kind of man would I be to pass up that opportunity?” And thankfully, that was enough confidence to have you shyly giggling before him. “Just a little break before I head home, I guess.”

“Had too much fun partying?” You teased. 

“Think I would’ve had more fun if you were there.” Oh, no. Pattering heartbeats, and now fluttering butterflies disrupt the peace of your tummy, as Eddie stared down at you. “Mind if I sit, uh, next to you, or over there, or wherever?”

You nodded to his request, complying by moving to the center of your bed, where you and Eddie sat back in the bundle of your rumpled duvet and pillows. A pregnant pause consumed over, as Eddie chose to linger in the silence to get a good view of the knick knacks that disheveled your room perfectly, and you admired the glow in which his profile became illuminated by. With bouncing eyes, it became the shiny embroidery of gold italics on the velvet sash that read “Homecoming Court” that paired cheaply with the tiny, plastic $3.99 Party City tiara that had dug into your scalp for the three hours you had to endure that night that caught Eddie’s attention. 

“You win?” He abrasively asked. 

“Uh, no.” You quietly answered. “Chrissy Cunningham got the bigger crown.” 

Eddie nodded along. “Figures.” He added. “She’s sweet.” 

It was your turn to nod, as the lips concaved into your teeth, while your fingers rustled with the plastic baggy in hand. “Yeah, she is.” 

“Kinda boring, though. Don’t you think?” He tossed his head back to meet his eyes upon yours. 

“Chrissy?” 

“No- well, not really, I mean Chrissy winning, y’know? Carver, too.” He clarified, as he watched your face with the suggestions he was making. “Like, why even vote- or hell, go to that shitshow if we already know who’s going to win? At the very least, throw in a curveball. Like-Like, Johnny Katowski.” Eddie laughed. 

“The kid from chess club?” You quietly giggled, as Eddie sat up.

“Yeah, him!” He declared. “How great would it be to see a kid like him winning Homecoming King, I mean, he may have bitched me out when I knocked into his lunch table and messed up his little figurines-”

“Pawns?”

“Yeah, pawns.” He laughed. “But the point is, why not give some other people the light, y’know?”

“Oh, well, Johnny Katowski is a really nice person, but I think he’d be too shy to enjoy everyone staring at him.” You quietly spoke, as you fiddled with your fingers under Eddie’s stare. “But, um, other people like you?”

“I meant other people like you.” Eddie smiled. “I’m too good to be king.” He joked, as you laughed at his cockiness. “I’m sure that dance would’ve been better if you had won, ‘s all. Just like the party.”

Your brows raised with gentle curiosity. “Oh, did you not have a good time at the dance?”

“Oh, no,” he waved you off, “didn’t even go. Dances aren’t exactly my thing, sweetheart.” 

You softly giggled. “You didn’t go to the dance, but you went to the afterparty?”

“Can’t exactly sell my supply on school premises, Y/N.” Eddie jokingly protested. “And even so, you went to the dance and not the afterparty.” Like tightening rope around your throat, your gut was hit with the simple analysis Eddie concurred. Though rather obvious, it somehow manifested worse coming out in the words of others around you who clearly saw the disconnect between you and your friends. Sure, a little more information would solidify it, but in the overworking mind of intrusive thoughts that made up your mind, Eddie’s phrase managed to concoct the notion that all of Hawkins High was now acutely aware of the fact that the ties of friendship with the girls closest to you was now being severed at the hands of no longer wanting you. “Hey, you okay?” His face lowered to catch yours, only to quickly move as you suddenly cleared your throat whilst straightening your comfortable posture. 

“Yeah, yeah, just a little tired, I guess.” You mumbled, providing him a small smile to end whatever prodding he was about to dig into. You no longer wanted it. 

“Oh.” He spoke. “Um, you want me to leave, leave you alone?”

“No, no.” You assured him. “It’s okay.” 

Another silent pause. Eddie Munson laid his cards on the table. A, he could cut the awkwardness short, and be on his way back home, sufficed with the fact that he, at least, got more words out of you than the usual “thank you, here’s your money, see you next week” routine, that he’ll be stuck with for the rest of the school year, until you inevitably leave for college- I mean, good for you, but then he would be stuck with a whirlwind of what if’s that would eat him alive, all while you got the live your prosperous life in god knows what city, where some dude who actually had to balls to make a move on you would get the honor of being called your boyfriend. Deep breath. Or B, he could just be a friend right now, because it really looked like you needed one. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” You slowly peered up at him. “I mean, like, you’ve always been kinda quiet, just, y’know, from seeing you around, but you seem a little more down now. Like mime quiet.” He smiled, eliciting a worn giggle from you. “Just feel like you have something to say, but you’re not saying it.”

“I…” you sighed, “it’s really stupid, Eddie.” Because suddenly sitting back with Eddie—whose personal life details were spread around town for the sake of small town gossip to enact who could and could not associate with the shunned of Hawkins, Indiana—your problems felt entirely too small. The last thing he needed was to be drowned by your superficial problems. The last thing you needed was to be judged for feeling the way you did, when Eddie Munson would give the reality check of a lifetime, and tell you to grow up. “Yeah, just, um, really miniscule things that I don’t, uh, wanna annoy you with.” You attempted to laugh off.  

“I asked you.” Eddie stated matter-of-factly. “You’re not gonna annoy me when I’m literally asking to hear you, sweetheart.” He chuckled in disbelief at your resigned behavior, baffled by the notion you could even believe anything about you to be bothersome. “C’mon, just say it, say it with your chest, just lay it all on me. Can’t do any good to keep it in, no?”

Eddie Munson had quite the knack of being a cute motivational speaker, as your giggles caused by his coltish self seemed to abate the linger tussle of depressive hesitancy in your mind. “It’s just… y’know, my friends, n’ all.” A hearty grunt of agreement coming from Eddie had you laughing through your words, as his face of distaste for your friends made it easier to speak. “Like, I just know they-they don’t want me- or, at least, it really feels like that. God, Eddie I rented out all these movies, bought some face masks- which are really expensive, by the way, and these damn snacks, ugh. Why-Why is some lame party more important than my plans, than me? They just don’t care! And I get I’m more quiet than them, but why does that mean I have to be left out of everything?! A-And, y’know, they always say I’m a bummer, but they don’t think about the fact that they make me a bummer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love shopping just as much as the next guy, but knit-picking everything that’s wrong with how a dress looks on me isn’t exactly going to make me an ecstatic person, y’know?!”

Eddie Munson used to be able to count the number of words you spoke to him on the fingers of one hand. And right now, that was, at least, twenty-five singular hands. And the thought had him smiling in the distance, when in actuality, that stagnant pause was an invitation for him to speak, as per a normal conversation. So it became that very smile that had your stomach flipping with ignominy at the fact that your overthinking thoughts were transpiring right in front of you: Eddie Munson thought your problems were laughable. 

A quiet “huh” was all he had to say.

“Well?” Your face, unfortunately, contorted with desperate validation. “You think it’s stupid, don’t you?” Almost accusatory, but in all seriousness, his lack of words were only cementing the scary thought that infested your head: you were the problem.

While deliberating, Eddie was really trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, he really was. But for the love of god, why were you allowing these people to have this much sway over your life? Three days ago, Courtney Keller, co-captain of Hawkins High’s cheer team, who conveniently sat a desk over in Eddie Munson’s English literature class thanks to Ms. O’Donnell’s tyrannical assigned seating, was overheard asking if Romeo and Juliet had been inspired by the 1978 cult classic Grease. Ah, yes, because William Shakespeare surely looked to a Hollywood blockbuster love story of a goody-two-shoes and greaser to write his most notable play. These were the people making you miserable?! You bombarded your letterman jacket with a bunch of tiny, obscure pins for crying out loud! Only you could make those god awful, gaudy, green jackets look remotely cool. Not to mention the fact that when looking at you from a distance—totally not creepy—Eddie could make out those funky, little doodles that indented the cover of your notebooks, before being thrown into your stuffed locker of knick knacks and stickers. Pins and doodles? Totally cool in Eddie Munson’s book. 

Okay, maybe not the most substantial aspects to determine one’s coolness, and perhaps, most wouldn’t look to the super, super senior to constitute what is, but the fact of the matter was that Eddie Munson, himself, thought you were pretty damn cool, so who the hell were some peaked-in-high-school nobodies to tell you otherwise? 

“What do I think? Uh, how do I put this?” Eddie reiterated, playing out the right words to confront you with. Though, Eddie Munson wasn’t necessarily one to speak so eloquently. “I think you’re kinda acting like a dumbass,” and your fallen face had him stuttering into recovery, “n-no, I mean, like, not that you’re dumb or anything, you’re really fucking smart. It’s just, I dunno, c’mon, you’re smart enough not to let them bother you.” He exasperated. 

“Like-”

“Like- sorry,” he interrupted, “I just mean that you’re so much better than them. Like, in every aspect, you have so much more going on than their puny life.”

“Well, according to them, I don’t even have a life.” You grumbled, knees wedging themselves against your chest to provide the perfect burial for your head. 

Eddie sighed, choosing to sit up against the headboard of your bed to get your smushed face to follow his movements. “Hate to break it to your sweetheart, but getting shitfaced at some boring party isn’t exactly the epitome of having a life. I mean, sure, maybe to the people who thrive in small town shitholes like this place,” and luckily, Eddie was able to follow along with your airy giggles, “but you and I? Hell, no, babe, nuh-uh, we were made for bigger shit than Hawkins.” He smiled.

And you smiled, too. “Like New York?”

“Like New York.”

“Ooh, or somewhere pretty like Paris or Marseille?” Your head finally perked up.

“Sure… I mean, I think I can put up with French people for you.” He joked, letting that genuine laugh fall from your lips so effortlessly. “Kinda draw the line at eating snails, though.”

You gasped dramatically. “What?! You’re telling me you’ve never tried Benny’s escargots?!” Yeah, you were way cooler than any Courtney Keller clone. 

Eddie’s head leaned back, as his hearty laughs quietly fanned your face, until the atmosphere was finally at peace with steady breaths. “I mean it, sweetheart, just gotta look them right in the eyes, use those big, beautiful things you got, and tell them to fuck right off.” 

While undeniably making your heart patter in your chest, Eddie Munson’s comment also served to become the catalyst for the most humiliating moment of your life. With your face turned away into your knees to shield him from the lovesick smile you were embarrassingly about to flash him, you terribly missed the single opportunity it would have taken to redirect Eddie’s devastatingly—for you—short attention span away from the beaming jewel that rested in your still opened drawer. 

“What’s this?” Pink and glimmering under the lowlight of your lamps, Eddie couldn’t resist the encrusted jewel lined with silver. And you hummed in question, oblivious to his findings, turning around all too late. “In your nightstand.” His hand inching closer and closer.

In your nightstand, in your nightstand, in your nightstand, echoing like a nightmare on repeat, as your eyes widened at the epiphany that Eddie Munson had found your- “Don’t touch that!” Your father’s brow cocked, wondering what movie it was this time eliciting dramatic reactions from you. But Eddie’s calloused fingers had already grappled onto the silver handle, pulling out what was beyond mortifying for you, as the lamp shade had fully revealed what concealed item contained that sparkling decoration.

“Oh, damn…” Eddie blinked, swallowing the nothingness of his throat, as a stir began to tickle his naval just below the belt. Both sets of eyes glued to the bulbous end of your plug, though Eddie’s incoming smirk seemed to differentiate tremendously to your gaping mouth of disbelief, where you sat frozen in horror at the events transpiring before you. Held like a priceless jewel, Eddie examined your personal toy with a devious smile to pair. “You use this? Like, it really goes up your ass?” 

Your internal being was screaming at the top of your lungs, all masked by the stoic features of your face that refused to accept the reality of what was happening. “Eddie.” You managed to mutter out. “Please, put that back!” Harsh whispers smacked him in the face. “Eddie, I- sorry, just please, I’ll-”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” His free hand came to secure itself around your knee, allowing that tightening breath to finally make its escape from the anxious hold in your chest. “Really, I just- it’s cool, just caught me by surprise ‘s all.”

“Okay, well, can you please just put it back, and forget this ever happened?” You pleaded, wishing him away for the night, hoping to never meet his eyes, the same eyes that made your butt plug fall under scrutiny. “I swear, it’s not mine- well, it is, but, like, I didn’t buy it, my stupid friends, ugh-”

Palms digging into the sockets of your eyes, you wielded this as your punishment, hoping the pain would come to mask the utter humiliation of Eddie finding your personal belongings. Uptight, they joked. Laughing with those giggles you learned to despise as you unwrapped the decorative paper that covered your birthday present. A book, a journal, sketch pencils, or plant, any and everything that could have sufficed as personal presents that would have been highly appreciated. But your friends seeked another personal route, with the jabbing comment of wanting you to “loosen up.” And so what, gag gift or not, the use of that particular toy came about as no one else’s business, because while the contribution came at the expense of the devastating realization that your friends were grade A assholes, there was no judgment in exploring yours- GOD.

“Hey, seriously, sweetheart.” Eddie’s hands came to pry yours away, letting his lighthearted eyes cast away the round, sadness of yours. “I just, y’know, didn’t think you were like that- or into that.”

“Oh, right, because I’m so uptight and boring.” You defensively rolled your eyes at him, before attempting to move from your spot next to him, but Eddie worked quicker to keep you in place.

He spoke earnestly. “Hey, no, don’t put words in my mouth, I didn’t say that.” Eddie sighed, jumping through the endeavors to show his action didn’t come maliciously. “Seriously, you know that, alright. Don’t think of me as being that kind of person.”

You sighed in defeat. “Eddie, this is just beyond humiliating.” And he desperately just wanted to take a hold of your adorably sullen face. 

“I don’t think it’s humiliating.” He smiled, of course, it wasn’t his butt plug in his hand. “Think it’s kinda… intriguing. L-Like, sexy.” Your eyes peered to his height, searching for the laughter of a joke you swore was about to follow. But Eddie Munson had never lost the hold of your eyes, piercing his through yours to strike that flame in your body with a burning match. 

“Really?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.” His fingers continuously fiddling with your toy in hand, as his pants tightened at the mere thought of it being inside of you. What you did, late at night, to destress, finding an escape in the pleasure of being plugged, and played with. “Knowing what you like, testing your body, yeah, sweetheart, it’s really fucking sexy.” He slyly eyed you down, as your throat went dry under his dark stare. “Wouldn’t even mind seeing it.”

“W-What?” You stuttered out, thighs tightening to rub that aching thump brewing between your legs. “Like, um-”

“If you’re okay with it, Y/N,” Eddie took over for you, “I’d like to see how you make yourself feel good.”

Your mouth gulped like a fish out of water, trying to find the right words that were lost in the tangled disarray that was your overthinking mind, beating heart, fluttering tummy, and pulsating heat. But even that gnawing anxiety couldn’t deny you the unbearable urge to have Eddie Munson ravish you. “I- right now?” You spoke so quietly, nodding to the sentiment. 

“Yeah,” his tongue drenched his lips with one swipe, “let’s just say it’s for, uh, educational purposes, what do you say? Might even, y’know, get your mind off things. Relax. Feel good. Better than that fucking weed can do.” His ringed hand took a hold of the plastic baggie from your side to place away in your nightstand- inside, where you apparently held your most precious items. 

You swallowed the nerves away, allowing yourself the selfish pleasure of Eddie’s touch to wash away the heavy troubles of your mind. You want this. You deserve this. “Please?” So delicately spoken.

“Yeah?” He sneered. You nodded. Under his gaze, you made the move onto your knees to comfortably shift out of your pajama shorts, but your hands couldn’t move further than grasping onto your waistband, before Eddie made a quick call to stop you. “Woah, woah, what are you doin’, sweetheart?”

Your mouth opened to speak, but you froze in the awkward position, and eyed him worriedly. Surely, you couldn’t have possibly read this entirely wrong. “I- you said you wanted to see, like, taking off my clothes.” You meekly explained, as the burns of a suffocating bonfire blazed your cheeks with embarrassment. 

“No, c’mon, baby, you gotta let me be a gentleman first.” Eddie chuckled. “Can’t just start fillin’ you up without kissing you. Get over here.” He patted his lap. 

Your leg thrown over his had you seated on the thickness of Eddie’s thigh, as the skin of yours nipped at the graying denim of his black jeans. Plug aside, his fingers teased at the seam of your shorts to encourage your hands to place themselves on his chest, where he saw you hesitantly reaching for. Feeling the cracking print of his worn band tee had suddenly brought you a sense of contentment, allowing you to comfortably press your weight onto his legs, a sign of snugness that had him smiling at you lovingly. Goosebumps arose in the wake of Eddie’s fingers brushing down the sides of your thighs to connect with the creasing of your knees, finding the fold as leverage to bring you forth. 

Chest to chest. Nose to nose. “You gonna give me what I’ve been dreamin’ about?” Your lips grazed the oncoming stubble of his upper lip, just seconds of subtle, bare touches that were feeding into that aching desire igniting inside both of you, before fully securing your mouth upon his. Eddie’s lips became a suction, refusing to let you go, as his hand crept with security to the back of your neck. Your tiny moans melted into the kiss, with tenuous grinds against his bulge that bent the zipper of his jeans, all too deliciously for Eddie to handle, leaving his mouth drowning with saliva that slicked your lips with the taste of Eddie Munson. “Don’t have to worry about anything with me.” He murmured into you.

A hungry “mhm” was all that could be trusted to come out of you, as your hips rolled with greed, entirely fueled by his tantalizing hand that squeezed at any fat he could latch onto. 

“Everybody deserves a break, baby.” He cemented with firm pecks that left your lips raw with the sound of spit smacking to echo into your ear. “Just let me be nice to you- let me be so fucking nice to you.” You nodded against his face, nose bumping with harsh breaths, as neither of you could find the will to pull away. “Let’s- fuck, let’s get these off now, pretty.” Eddie snapped your stretchy waistband against your hip.

Tingles coursed through your legs, as you found the strength to dig your pedicured feet into the rug of your bedroom, and stand before him. His blunt nails gently scratched down your legs to invigorate you to declothe. Your bottoms slid down, pooling at your feet, before you stepped out to have your pussy on display for him. 

“Mm.” Eddie lowly hummed, enthralled by your mound, so perfectly decorated with the hairs of your pubes, and puffed between your thighs. “Damn, you standing here without your shorts makes me wanna listen to music.” He smiled.

Your brow pointed, gifting him the sight of your confused, little face that had him chuckling at you. “What?” You asked. 

“Y’know,” he snickered, “‘cause I wanna use your thighs as headphones.”

Your girlish giggled made him feel good about his awful joke, finding all enjoyment in seeing your hands cutely hide your face from the shyness of your nature, despite standing bare in front of him. “Eddie, that’s so corny.” You laughed. 

“But I got a smile out of you, s’all I care about.” His hands came to yours to twiddle with your fingers that differed from his thick ones, lavished in the loud jewelry he brandished. “So, uh, I imagine I gotta get you ready first, y’know, wet. Don’t wanna hurt you.” You softly nodded to confirm his words, suddenly feeling the tickles in your belly moisten you, as the realization of this actually happening was becoming truer by the second. “Somewhat of a handyman, myself, can grab some DW40 or somethin’.” 

“Eddie.” You flirtatiously chastised, mewling a whine of gauche, of which you had a real talent of making cute. 

He laughed. “Look, look, there’s no… romantic or- fuck, I dunno, chivalrous way of asking someone if you can eat their ass, so can I just eat you ass, sweetheart?”  

Eddie’s unabashed bluntness had your face burning with the intoxicating sensations of humiliation and want, brewing something nasty in you that always laid dormant under the unexplored aspects of your desires. Leave it to Eddie Munson to elicit that filth with the raunchy words of his mouth that already showed you just how sinfully good it could make you feel. Just for you, you hoped. But surely, Eddie had to have obtained these skills from some practice. And you wondered if that’s what you were. Practice for the next gal to have her world rocked. Or… just thoughts. Loathsome thoughts, the very things Eddie has dedicated to clearing from your pretty head, because someone with a face like yours, and being so sweet had no reason to suffer, as you did. Practice? God, no, you were just everything. So Eddie Munson made sure to give you everything. 

“Yeah.” You tenderly answered. “Just, um- well, I already showered for the night before you came here, but, like, I can, you know, clean up-”

“Baby-”

“Just so you’re comfortable with every-”

Roughed by heavy car parts and heated guitar strings, his all but soft hands felt so gentle in yours, with fingers dancing in the intertwine of a caring hold, flooding you with security, as his eyes without word complimented the contours of your figure silently but so earnestly. Eddie squeezed your hand. Eyes searching inside you through yours. “Stop, stop.” Your nervous rambling came to halt. “I don’t care. I know you’re clean, I wanna taste you.”

“Yeah.” You took a deep breath. A squeeze back to show love to his tough hand. “Yeah, okay.”

A smile breached his face. “That’s what I like to hear. C’mon, bend over for me, pretty, let me ease you from your mind.”

With the rumpled duvet sinking with the load of your limbs carrying you to the center, the air felt cold against the oozing slickness of your bare cunt, spreading its welcome with the curvature of your back with tits hung from their weight on your chest, as you allowed yourself the liberty of resting your head upon your pillow. The falling of Eddie’s creased sneakers against your floor appeared louder than reality when blood was pumping in your ears to the overworking beat of your heart. Naked and vulnerable, several deep breaths were taken to appease that anxious thought in the back of your head of what you might look like to a boy you liked so dearly, but nothing ameliorated you better than the waking touch of Eddie’s hand against your ass. 

“Fuck.” And suddenly his voice had a way of coaxing your hands to relax against the harsh hold of your sheets. His hands rounded the globes of your ass, feeling the fat wobble beneath, when a sharp spank landed on your right cheek, forcing you to suppress the whine with a metallic bite to your lip.

You mewled out your reprimand “Eddie! My parents are still here!” Having to whisper your frustrations, because now having a taste of what an Eddie Munson spanking could do, you wanted more, but couldn’t under a parental household. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He chuckled, a complete lie he muttered just to calm you, because forcing your ass to ripple with the slam of his hand would be nothing he’d apologize for. “It really is just so spankable.” Eddie’s hands worked to massage the brief sting of his abuse that had you quietly pushing back for more. “So fucking perfect, all soft n’ shit in my hands. Nice to just fucking grab, and spread apart like that- fuck.” Fingertips digging into the dough of your cheeks had pulled your pussy lips to reveal strings of sweet arousal, and two pulsating holes Eddie was desperate to fill. “That’s so fucking beautiful.” His thumbs came to brush the hairs of your lips, inspecting what he was about to cherish on his tongue. 

His soft proclamations had you smitten with a smile that would surely strike him to his knees if flashed at him, but you contained yourself in the soft fuzz of your sweater that pooled at your breast to allow him the pleasure of running his course down your spine. Just an exploration of your body, feeling all his could while he can, because while your mind had a funny way of overthinking, his did, too; Eddie Munson was slapping himself to right your worries, because one wrong word, one wrong touch, one wrong stroke of his tongue had him rampant in the head that you’d leave disappointed in his actions. Forever. 

“Eds.” But as Eddie Munson was there to ease you, you were there to ease Eddie Munson. You’ve nicknamed his status to something closer than drug dealer. And the salacious click of your tongue had you proving to wanting to push that status further.

Eddie smiled at the possibility. Your gasps were all that could be heard next, feeling the tip of his wet tongue browse your tight hole, as your ass swallowed him in. His mouth lathered you with the spit that once coated yours, though now preparing your asshole for the stretch he’d succumb you to, lips nipping at your hole that had you salivating your moans into your pillow. A feeling all too foreign for you, allowing someone in your most intimate area, and Eddie took it with such delicacy, manifesting all his love for your ass in the mewls he shoved between your cheeks. 

It quickly found itself to be something better than lubricating your ass with the use of your slick and prodding your hole with a curious finger. Eddie had managed to bring depraved sensations with the globs of his spit and the intrusion of his tongue, forcing itself to snake past the pulses that attempted to keep him out. “Fuck, you taste so good.” Pumps and pumps of his wet muscle tickling the walls of your tight ass, as his hands pinched your body in tight grips, shaking all fat in his vicinity to do everything to be consumed by you. 

“Eddie!” You hugged your pillow, suddenly feeling the fire of your warm sweater, as your ass danced along his face. “Want you to- mm! Want you to keep doing that!”

“Sorry if I’m takin’ long, baby.” Like spitting the taste of nicotine out of his mouth, a warm glob of saliva impurely landed on you, giving leeway for his thumb to massage your squeezing hole, before submerging in with your moans to accompany. “Just really wanna make sure you’re ready. Fuck, and, um, I know I said I just wanted to see how a plug works, but can I please eat at your pussy, baby, it’s right there.” God, he could smell you enticing him, seeing your pussy hole clench completely neglected as your asshole got the fun of his touch. 

“Yes, please, Eddie, just want your mouth on me.” Hips thrusting back to chase what left, leaving him with nothing to do but smile and ravage your thighs and hips and sweet kisses. 

“Nasty, little fucking thing, aren’t you?” He proffered no time to answer, giving himself what he wanted, face becoming smeared with the gleam of your wetness. Your pussy tickled under the scratch of his light stubble on your lips, the shoving of his nose in your sopping hole, and his tongue flicking of your clit igniting every prurient urge you ever tried to satiate on your own. 

That delicious tang of your cunt infiltrated every sense within him, surrounding him in nothing but you— the hearing of you, the sight of you, the smell of you, the touch of you, the taste of you. Your raw bud throbbed under the exploitation of his mouth, sucking the shockwaves to cause your thighs to quake.

“Too much. Eds- fuck me, I can’t, s-sto- uh!” Your hand reached back at an attempt to push him away from the stampeding orgasm you were too insecure to experience him seeing. But no matter the sting of your pretty nails digging into his scalp, nothing was stopping Eddie from seeing the sheer tremble, cry, and gush he could bring your body to. 

With his thick thumb plunging into your asshole, his free hand sadistically pulled at your cheeks to expose as much of your pussy as he could, leaving you to mewl at the stretch of your skin. The sole separation of your puffy lips had him moaning at the sight; such a tight pussy hole aching for something to fill it, needing to squeeze down to spark your greedy orgasm. “Shit, fucking pussy pulsating just for me.” His tongue buried itself inside, letting his finger fall to pinch at your vibrating bud, rewarding it with the tight circles of rubs that felt unbearable. “Taste so fucking delicious!” His words were barely eligible in the crevices of your cunt, but they provided all sensation to push you into your tonic state. “Cum for me, fucking cum!”

Fucked by his tongue and finger, you no further denied him, unleashing a gush of your spent to ravish his mouth, as your holes kept him in place with their tightening hold. If it wasn't for the fault of your parent’s bedroom being on the other side of your home, they would have surely heard the vulgar corruption of sweat and sex condensing the air of their daughter’s bedroom.

“Fuc- mm, uh…” Like a Pavlov dog, your pillow had soaked itself wet from the salivation of your chewed lips, as your legs shook under the grasps of Eddie’s hands. 

“Shhh, baby, I’m gonna put it in. Let me play with it.” When limbs went numb after orgasmic bliss, the dealer knew now was the time your body would accept it. Gaping from the size of his thumb, Eddie’s gentle insertion made the process enjoyable, placing a delicate kiss to your asshole, before your plug was indulged in the tightness of your ass. Now crowned with a pretty, pink jewel to top. And you mewled, softly shaking your ass to adjust to your decoration, trying to find feeling in your shaky legs. “God, you sound so fucking cute.” He rubbed your ass with groping hands. “Don’t let that get into your head, though, I’m still in control here.” Eddie chuckled. 

Despite falling limp, Eddie’s strength found no trouble in pulling you onto his lap, once he fell back onto his calves. While a hammering bulge was fighting back against the restraints of his cuffed belt, you couldn’t deny the fact that he didn’t feel the satisfaction of a bursting orgasm, yet your mind pondered on the reasons as to why his heart was pounding so profusely against your spinning head. Your hand splayed against his chest, as you peered up at him. “Are you nervous?”

Eddie Munson swallowed thickly. And ignored you completely. “You’re a really dirty fucking girl for playing with yourself like that all alone.” His hands pinched at the sweaty skin of your back, as your face contorted with the creases of confusion at his now unnecessary comment. “But… now you have me, though, right? Gonna play with me always?” Though, any confidence Eddie previously had speaking to you that way was gone under your scrutinizing stare, and you could hear it in the slight quiver of his voice. Because Eddie Munson wasn’t trying to dirty talk you. No, Eddie Munson was trying to seek your desire to want him around. 

And you gave it to him. “Yeah.” Free of any sexual suggestion, because Eddie knew you saw through his assertive facade, piercing at his vulnerability and choosing to accept it through the deep breath of relief of his nose. 

With his tongue swiping at the surrounding areas of his lips, you assisted his clean-up, thumbing at the gleam that coated his chin, subsequently letting the burden of his heavy head fall into your gentle hands. “Y’know, I see you a lot at parties- like, more than just us doing deals, I see you.” He cleared his throat. “And I’ve had this thing. This, uh, really big thing for you for a long time now, Y/N. A-And I know it’s your friends dragging you to these parties, but, I dunno, when I see you you just look so… meek, I guess, but like in a good way. Like, this whole elegance you got to you.”

Both you and Eddie stumbled into soft giggles at his boyish articulation, trying to grasp the concept of feelings from a man who’s never been graced with the excitement of committed reciprocation. But there was one thing for certain, Eddie Munson was damn sure trying this time. “Wouldn’t necessarily call myself elegant.” You chuckled. 

“No, but you are.” He earnestly protested. “Y’know, you show up, not even wanting to, not saying a word, just keeping to yourself, and everyone just looks at you- notices you.” 

In a town of Stacy Withers, Chrissy Cunninghams, Lucy Colemans, and Courtney Kellers, that felt like a big, fat lie smeared in your face. You brushed the stinging sentiment with quiet laughters of pain. “No one notices me, Eddie-”

“I notice you, Y/N.” He urged you to see, hands molding onto your body for fear of you not seeing what he gets to so lovingly see. His lips landed upon your cheek, brush-like strokes, dragging his affection to the canvas of your face, before a devout kiss seared your mouth to his. The swelling muscles of his arms squeezed to tighten around your back, savoring your being, and exploding when your sweater-clad arms mimicked his fervor around his neck, experiencing first-hand what was Eddie Munson’s first requited love. “Just to be here,” his lips spoke against yours, pausing to kiss away the ache that fell constant when your tongue wasn’t dancing upon his, “playing with you,” your mouths clicked with the slobber of his spit, ridden with the tart honey of your pussy juices, the same ones beginning to sog the stitching of his jeans, “just cracking that armor you got on, it’s heaven on Earth for me.” Your lips strung apart, as your thumbs soothed over his chasing movements, caressing the beating pulse point of his neck. But where you smiled, Eddie continued to try to kiss your upturn beam. “You’re not kissing me, why aren’t you kissing me?” He whined, trying to pull a pucker out of you. “Just smiling, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” giggling against his hungry lips. 

“As pretty as you are smiling, I need you kissing me, baby.” Eddie playfully admonished with a hefty squeeze to your hip in a puerile way of presenting his frustration. 

“It’s just,” late nights of perfecting the solos of various guitar sequences allowed your fingertips to skim over the delicate purpling of his under eyes, “I don’t know, Eddie, the night has just been really shitty, and you’ve somehow managed to make it a lot better.”

“Probably because I gave you one hell of an orgasm.” This time you’ll allow his refusal to accept the complimenting sincerity of your words, masking the mush of giddiness inside him with a comment of sex, because at least this one made you laugh in his hold. 

“And other things, Eddie.” But there you were to peel that mask away, and dump your kindness of wanting him all over his walls. “You gave me other things.”

A building appreciation for yourself. 

The cynicism of his eyes jumped hurdles to search for any fibbery he may have found himself trapped into, but you were so warm. To the touch, your skin sent his hands aflame with sparks of desire from the true benignity of your being. Warm eyes, warm lips, warm heart, working to secure a blanket of security over his shoulders from the sheets of coldness both of you have been offered by those who cared too little for your wellbeing. “Y/N, I need to tell you something.” His mouth moved without thought, as his body grew sore of ignoring the very thing it wanted: you. “Look, I’m just gonna jump right in, and say it, I want you to be mine- I want to be your boyfriend.” His eyes bounced around the brightening features of your face, creasing with lines to make room for the smile that enamored his chest. “But first I gotta prove to you.”

“Prove to me?” You gently prodded, mind working overtime to control your hands from balling the fabric of his shirt from uncontained excitement. 

“See, I kinda just got this thing in my head, y’know, that I gotta prove my worth to you-”

“Eddie-”

“No, I know it sounds bad, but really, it’ll just be for my own peace of mind.” He assured you with the earnestness of his voice soothing the concern you were about to tackle to confirm Eddie Munson was, in fact, enough. “I know it might not be the biggest deal to you, but I just wanna be able to take care of you- like, please you. Make sure I can make you cum.” He whispered into your face. 

You wondered where he was for the last five minutes, somehow forgetting the euphoria he had just pulled from you with the sole use of his tongue. “Didn’t- I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but didn’t you already… just do that?” 

“I mean make you cum l-like couples do.” He bashfully iterated, eyes falling down, as if he hadn’t spoken the dirtiest things to you before. Though, perhaps, the beginning stages of what would blossom into a loving relationship had the boy suddenly at the age of fourteen, wondering when that momentous occasion of a first girlfriend would come. Having sex a year later surely doubled the probability, though Nicole Summers wasn’t exactly one that stuck around to find out. “Won’t exactly feel too great if the only way I can get my girlfriend off is by one single way. Let me prove to you that I can be good for you.”  

“Quite presumptuous of you to believe I would even say yes to you asking me out.” You’d a hundred percent say yes. 

Eddie smiled, before the strength of a sole arm entrapped you soundly against his chest, as his torso dropped forward to lay back against the plushness of your bed. Before a sharp moan could elicit the concern of your parents, Eddie brought forth his mouth to yours, once his bulge caught a steady rhythm against your buzzing clit. “Don’t think,” his hot breath concocted with yours in the heated makeout, “I got to see your tits.” Too neglected for your liking, your sweater found itself bunched under your chin, under glowing lamp lights that shadowed your peaked nipples. “Fuck me, pretty girl, just too,” a kiss to your valley, “ fucking,” a kiss to your breast, “perfect.” Eddie Munson swallowed your pert bud whole. 

“Mm, that’s so nice.” You quietly mewled, with polished fingernails delicately weaving through the tousled curls of his head, sweaty and dampened from a whirlwind of nightly activities. 

His hands groped at the fat, squeezing them together to tongue at your nipples, harsh flicks that had you arching into his face. “Just too fucking beautiful for this world.” He nuzzled into your chest, his nose flaring hard to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume, crisp and clean just for him to lose himself in. 

“Are you going to fuck me now?” A guttural groan burrowed its way out of Eddie’s throat, crawling forward to shove kisses along your cheek that had your head pressing into the softness of your pillow.

“Not gonna worry about your folks?” When the Indianapolis Colts saw a hopeless comeback of being seven to twenty-seven against the Dallas Cowboys, your father knew to save him the anger of witnessing another pass interference with a click of a button that blackened the screen; a definitive call for the night. The heavy steps of your father’s movements followed along the stairs, wood creaking with the shift of his weight to bring him amongst the bedroom doors of the second floor. One look at your door. As every night would go, a quick knock at your door would allow your father entry into your room, hopefully catching you in that green gunk of a facemask you’d like to smear on your face, to provide your father the perfect joke to hear that loving, “dad, stop!” But given the crotchety tone of your previous engagement, your father guessed he’d follow the the statement if his gifted ‘#1 DAD’ mug, and leave you for the night. Embarrassing you will have to wait for Saturday morning’s event. And off to bed he went. 

You hadn’t even realized your luck, allowing Eddie Munson to bruise your neck, oblivious to the predicament you slid by. “We can be quiet.” You pleaded, running your legs along his to feel the scratch of his itchy jeans, desperate to receive any and all sensations against your exfoliated skin. 

“Open your legs for me more.” Your thighs pried open to his body, sanctioning him the authority to squeeze all he could to bring lines of tingles to your core. “Good girl, feels so fucking good to finally be touching you. Your plug in good?” Sitting snug between your cheeks, where a sticky stream of your cream pooled down your ass, bringing an extra shine to the gem of your plug. 

“Mhm, feels nice.” You dug into the sheets of your bed, hips pivoting forward to the chase of Eddie’s thumb massaging into the dough of your inner thighs, hoping they’d make their move to examine your pussy with the prying of his curious fingers. 

“Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable ‘s all.” He mumbled. A hand invading the crease of your thigh and hip had him softly chuckling to himself; quiet guffaws of disbelief to the radiating fever warmth that was congenial from the suffocation of your meaty thighs.

Your bitten lips twisted into a pout. “Why are you laughing at me?” 

“Not laughin’ at you, baby.” He laughed. Eyeroll. “Just love that pussy heat, y’know?” Eddie callowly smiled, bringing forth a burn to your cheeks, as your watched wrinkles of titillation annex his face from the sheer look of your natural body. “I dunno, guess it kinda makes my head a little bigger knowing she’s waiting for me.” He became delirious on the hypnotics of your moving hips. “Fuck, want me to touch you, pretty girl?”

You were falling desperate under his command. Your nails dug their crescent shapes into his hand, skin flooding with the pumping veins from the stinging rush, an urgent call to have him finally give in. “Please, Eddie, been waiting too long.”

“Ah-ah, have some fucking manners first, not gonna get it that easily without asking nicely.” He tortuously tantalized with the coming of his hand beginning to lightly rake the wisps of your manicured pubes. A whine of despair was all he was met with, nothing but your hips attempting to gyrate his hand to your needy clit. “C’mon, don’t get all greedy on me, baby, remember this is about you, you’ll get it all eventually. Just need you to feel everything as much as possible. Let me just rub the outside; up and down.” The weight of his fingers interfered with the glue of your slick, now pulling at your pussy lips to showcase the rawness of your cunt, strung by webs of your syrup that had him itching to shove his tongue in once more. “And maybe, I’ll just take my finger,” his pointer, pushed out ever so lightly to tickle the wet skin below your pussy, before the rigid callouses dragged up to spark the nerves of your puffy labia, catching a rub to your erecting clit, “and touch you whenever I feel like it.”

Your breath became caught in strings of gasps. “Eds.” Purring with delight at the tease of his finger brushing at your impulses of sensation. “Please, please, can I have you?”

“Just wanted to see that sexy fucking smile you do when you get all excited.” Eddie admired, reveling in the twinkle that bedecked your face to light up from the touch of his fingers. “You are so fucking hot, man.” Mumbling to himself, his head refuting the belief of this being reality. But your body moved with the liveliness of feelings, your voice rang with melodies of harmony, and your smell infused his skin with the sweetness of sugar and oils; no matter how hard Eddie Munson’s eyes welded shut with dubiety, there was no dying the realness of a woman before him. “Wanna play a little game with you, baby.” 

“A game?” Your voice softly upped in review of him, as he climbed over with a heavy hand turned soft to pet your head with loving strokes that matched the brief attachment of his lips to yours. 

“Yeah, just a little one, nothing to worry about, just love seeing your face n’ everything.” He vaguely detailed, letting your mind lose itself to the softness of his peppered kisses. “First, you gotta any names you wanna call me: master, sir, daddy?” 

Eddie watched your eyes shy away from his brashness, adorably being unable to endure the heat of his words. “Um,” your teeth pinched into your lips, “I-I think sir’s kinda nice.” You timidly admitted, only ever divulged by the encouragement of Eddie’s affection. 

And he smiled against your lips, dragging his devotion to your cheek, temple, and forehead. “I think it’s kinda nice, too.” From you? Anything would have his body stirring. Eddie abruptly sat up from your body, his mangled hair briefly frizzing from the overhead reach of his shirt, that left his torso blank of any band tee he’d previously adorned. His abdomen came to light as a soft tummy lined with the harsh crevices of flexed muscles in a strive to show off a physique he thought would look best for you. But your warmhearted hand relaxed the strain of his stomach with a single stroke to his naval, sending shockwaves with every graze against his happy trail. 

In the midst of pulling away the worn leather belt from the clinking metal buckle, your words swiftly halted his movements. “You’re very pretty, Eddie.” 

His head bowed, soft laughter coming through the nostrils of his nose, as he shook his head with a smile that adamantly won over his face, despite a hefty attempt of biting his lip to keep it down. “Feel like I should be the one telling you that, look at you.”

“Would it be so wrong for you to hear the truth, too?” A smile so pure, it shot straight to his heart, causing a speed bump to the rhythmic beating of his chest. 

His cheeks darkened with vulnerability. “I- yeah, you’re really about to fucking get it…” both of your soft laughter mingled into the air, as he tugged the length of leather from his belt loops, “…and thank you.” His lips pressed to your inner knee, whilst undoing his pants. But then, he paused. Eddie Munson had not even the slightest idea of how easily you were able to undress before him. Perhaps, it simply fell down to the principle of the matter that Eddie Munson was already head over heels crazy about you before you ever spoke to him. He’d like to thank Chrissy Cunningham- or, actually, whatever stress it was she was enduring for being the sole reason why she went seeking him that fateful Friday afternoon. Now, he understands the grossness of that sentiment, but, truthfully, as an aspiring entrepreneur, the problems of your clientele surely become the profit of your business. And while he wasn’t exactly looking to better this capitalist venture, it did, in fact, lead him to you. Standing in the back, watching reddening leaves fall to the ground, under the guise of being your friend’s lookout. C’mon, that rotting bench hadn’t seen company for years, Chrissy Cunningham was merely weary of his presence and needed backup. But gladly so, as for once, someone’s uncalled for judgment allowed him the privilege of staring at their pretty friend. So excuse him for suddenly falling insecure about the look of his body. You were quite literally everything to Eddie Munson. Would he be for yo-

“It’s okay.” What? “I want to see you, Eddie.” You smiled so perfectly. 

Without notice, stirs of anxiety turned into fluttering butterflies in his belly. And Eddie Munson smiled back. Following the squeaks of your bed, he headed off, taking a hold of what was his pants and boxers into a tight grip, and finding the confidence to rid himself of any further clothing. Springing from confinement, seven inches of weight bobbed against his naval with a smack, as you relished in the sight of his cock with bulging veins that strained to pump blood to his scarlet, mushroom tip. Any concerns about the appearance of his area abruptly left his rampant mind, after witnessing the dragging pull of your plump lips opening for your mouth to widen in awe. Your thighs rubbing in heat, a desperate attempt to satiate that rubescent, needy clit that thudded with tingles from the mere sight of him naked. 

Yeah, nothing to worry about- in fact, quite a large inflation to his ego. “Decent enough, huh?” His lips twisted with a sneer. 

A deprived “mhm” moaned its way out of you. 

Rushing to place himself between the warmth of your legs, Eddie positioned his cock to sit heavy against your tummy. His large balls of cum became immersed with the slick of your pussy, as his velvet skin rubbed against your drenched folds to fully show you the length of his member; nudging it to your belly button, whilst the chaos of his pubic hairs titillated your thighs. “This game, baby, the only thing with it is that you can only cum when I tell you.” His eyes kept a close watch of your rippling stomach with every smack of his cock he caused. “You understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” You sighed, becoming antsy with the tickle on your abdomen from the sheer weight of his dick. 

“That’s the right fucking answer,” he darkly chuckled, “just gonna start playing with you, pretty girl.” His hand directed the fat tip of his cock to butt at your clit, forcing your hips to jolt awake with the electricity of pressure against your sensitive nub. “Just like that, you fucking like that, don’t you?”

“M-More, please.” You clawed at your bed sheets, stressing the material with every rub of his length against your cunt. 

“Nah, baby, gonna treasure this, take it nice and slow.” He agonized, sucking in breaths with every tense of his balls, as you brought pulsating tingles to his body by doing nothing, but laying pretty. “Fuck, you really do something to me, whatever you got going on is doing a fucking number on me, sweetheart.” Saying all the right things to you, his words shot straight to your pussy, making it impossible to hold back your soft moans. “Honestly, baby, not really one to talk about my feelings, I guess, but you- everytime I come by knockin’ on your door, I just get these nerves n’ shit. Gotta talk to myself, too,” he husky laughter pierced so sexily, “honestly, like ‘damn, gotta pull yourself together, can’t let her pretty ass see you like this.’” Eddie’s cock dragged through your folds, separating strings of wetness to marinate on your raw cunt. “And I just wanted to kiss you for the longest, wanted to be right here playing with this fucking pussy.”

“I want you, fuck.” You heaved, hips chasing an itch he refused to have you revel in. “Always want you, Eddie.” 

His cock spurred excitedly. “Shit, sweetheart, can’t say things like that to me, fuck.” Eddie’s tip ran through your slit, the swollen head now prodding at your hole, just a first glimpse of the stretch you were about to endure. “God, just having me lay here with you, seeing you, hearing you, touching you, it’s the greatest thing ever. Does that feel good baby? Like me teasin’ you?”

“Yes, sir, please, Eddie.” You hummed, trailing a high that was building too slowly for your liking. “Want more.”

“Mm, really like hearing you say that, love your pretty, little voice.” Eddie’s free hand dropped by your head, supporting his weight to hover over you, letting his unruly hair cascade a waterfall around you. “As a matter of fact, you should speak up. Tell me you wanna be a good girl for me.” So close, his cock was barely grazing the entrance of your cunt, all before tortuously leaving your warmth to dissipate that spark in your body. And up above, Eddie was enjoying the show of your contorting face of frustration. “C’mon, you can say it.”

“I wanna be your good girl, sir.” You pleaded, taking a grasp around his supporting wrist to help find your rhythm against his teasing dick. “I promise, I’m your good girl, just let me have it.”

“Yeah, you wanna be my good girl.” He mocked, aligning his slick head of precum and your arousal to your clenching hole that oozed more wetness. “Here’s the thing, you’re already mine, so who am I to deny you- mm, fuck!”

Falling chest to chest, your nails clawed up his back at the burning sensation of his girth breaching your seizing walls. Eddie’s forehead dropped to yours, as the mixture of both your hot breath confined what little space was left between your gaping lips. “Slow, slow!” You urged him, as his bangs crumpled against your head with a fervent nod to listen to your pleads. Every clasp of your cunt had him harshly breathing through his nose, fighting the onslaught of sensations that were subsequently bringing him closer to the edge far faster than anticipated. “Uh! Fuck, you’re so big!” Inch by inch, your body was giving way to the pleasure of his deliberate intrusion, welcoming him in with a warm hug from your cunt. 

Nearly lacerated by his nails, Eddie hoped the balling of his fist would defuse the overwhelming feelings churning in his chest, but suddenly being submerged balls deep into your body had his mouth spewing with all he felt for you. “Fuck, you really don’t understand what you do to me.” He whined against your face. “First time I saw you, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I don’t really get in situations like these often- hell, fucking ever, but you! I just had to do whatever I could to get you. Honestly, it kinda pissed me off.” Eddie breathlessly chuckled against your lips, driving his greedy hips to drag his cock along your walls. “Holy s-shit, fuck, how the hell was I letting some girl have this affect on me. But you’re not just some girl, Y/N. God, mm, you’re fucking everything.” 

Leave it to Eddie Munson to confess his feelings from the tightness of your pussy. 

“Eddie!” His cock found no trouble in abusing that spot within you that had your legs occupying his waist like a lifeline, toes curling from the rapture that trembled your legs. Your hands forced his head to your lips, swallowing each other's moans to consume the desperation of night. Where spit messily slicked your lips, a ring of cream surrounded Eddie’s cock that smear the wetness against your pussy. 

���Fuck, just wanna do everything for you.” His lips dragged against yours, bodies bumping with every pound of skin slapping Eddie caused with his dick. “Got your holes all plugged up, nasty, little fucking thing.” Pursuing that desperate high, your pelvis began meeting his with an impassioned gyrate; the swollen head of his cock bruising your g-spot, all whilst the tickle of his pubes itched at your inflamed clit. “You wanna come, baby- fuck, I know you do!” His stomach clenched with every squelch your pussy created under the squeezing hold of his dick’s continuous reentry. 

Licking and rubbing your cunt to a tender mess of cum and slick had your second orgasm of the night pummeling quickly under Eddie’s intrusive cock, and you were pleading to see white stars from the fucking of his body to yours. “Yes, please, please, sir! Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, you’re gonna- mm!” 

Sweat coated your rubbing bodies together, where you nipples abraded against his to have you wailing with all sensations, yanking that orgasmic string within you. “Squeezing down on my fucking cock, yeah, baby, you can cum, but not until I say so.”

Eddie Munson was torturing himself when his body stilled inside you, but seeing your desperate face twist into a crying mess was far better than dumping inside you within the first five minutes. “No, no, sir, please!” Your hips attempted to fuck themselves deeper onto his cock, but Eddie’s harsh hand imprinted itself to the fat of your curves, holding your down from any endeavors to cumming. 

“Hey, hey, listen, listen, sweetheart.” He took a hold of your jaw, forcing your eyes upon his. “Remember, you’re my good girl; gotta be good for me.” All along this is what Eddie wanted, turning your mind into deprived mush to cloud those overcrowding thoughts that hurt your little head. And he watched it transpire before him, seeing you desperately nod to his words, completely at his mercy with full trust to care for you. “I know I’m being mean, baby, but you gotta believe me when I say this will feel so good.” His puffing breath fanned your face. “I’m so proud of you, so proud of you getting all that shit off your chest, so proud of you letting me play with your holes, being this perfect, dirty girl for me. Now, I want you to come, okay, just gonna play with your pussy-”

“Ah, fuck!” Your body jolted under the tight, circling rubs of his rough fingers against your clit. 

“Sh, sh, don’t want your folks disturbing us, baby.” His devilish sneer taunted your face. “Just tell me you wanna come, okay? Say it.”

Your lips incoherently spewed out. “Iwannacomesir-” 

“Slower, pretty girl, slower.” Eddie demanded, with each pinch to your buzzing pearl fueling that plucking string of hot cum inside you to burst. 

“I want to cum, sir.” Your trembling hands secured his hot cheeks to bring him forth, as your lips whispered against his with tiny kisses. “I… want to… cum, sir.”

Eddie smiled against your lips, before planting a fat sucker on them. “Good, now shut the fuck up, and you better listen to me.” With your heads bound closely, all of the world became lost in the homey environment within Eddie’s curtain of hair. Where his two-in-one shampoo clashed with your coconut hair mask, and the smell of sex fermented the humid air of hot breath, Eddie began hammering his cock into your sopping pussy, with spurts of wetness jumping to souse your connecting bodies. “You are so fucking gorgeous.” He huffed. “Anyone can see that plain as day- so fucking incredible. You deserve the fucking world, deserve to be taken care of, and I swear, baby, I swear on my life to be that man.” Eddie moaned into your ear, his wet lips exciting every nerve in your body with hot whispers, that had you mutilating his skin with streaks of unbearable red. “Just feel me playing with you, pleasing you, only you, pretty girl- f-fuck! Tell me I’m yours, fucking tell me.” 

Your legs tightened around his backside, driving the heels of your feet to the tiny plush of his ass, forcing him deeper into your cunt. With your hands caressing the beauty of his face, you managed to find the strength to open your screwed shut eyes, and meet the round ones that were pouring desperation into yours. “You’re mine, Eddie.” Spoken so delicately from the hoarseness of your throat, whilst the filthiest actions were occurring to your body. “You’re all mine, Eddie. No one else. Just you.” Sealing it with a searing kiss that had him sobbing groans onto your tongue, in a heated mix with your whines. 

“When I tell you, cum for me, okay, baby? Ten.” His heavy hand forced a grip to your leg, hiking them higher for an angle unbeknownst to you, leaving you to squeal into the crevice of his neck. “Nine… eight… seven, love how fucking greedy your body is, almost there, my pretty girl.” Eddie’s balls were seizing with twitches, as his engorged cock was building up a hot load that was on the precipice of flooding you. “ Six, look right at me, five… four, wanna see your pretty face when you finish.” Too much pressure was mounting on your cervix, as your body began losing itself to the thrills of an impending orgasm. “Three… two, tell me you wanna cum.”

“I wanna cum!”

“Louder!”

“I wanna cum on your cock!” Singing it to his ears with cries of harmony had his body cramping with pleasure. 

“One, fucking do it, cum for me!” Your back arched with the snap of your orgasm, a scorching gush of creamy white invading his cock with unfathomable squeezes and squelches. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… f-fuckkkk!” A hose of his sizzling seed fucked itself into you with stuttering hips that had you wailing into his buff shoulder, nails bloodying his alabaster skin with reds of passion, as your bodies convulsed in the aftershocks of pure hedonism. “T-There you go, fucking ride it out, sweetheart, ride it out with me.” His muscles flexed under the intense explosion of his bust; beads of musky sweat falling down the length of his body to infuse the creamy cum that matted his pubic hair. “God, you’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful.” 

“Auugh!” Your fogged mind whined in the lost stars of white that flashed your vision. 

“It’s okay, my baby, just relax, you’re alright.” Eddie brought you back to reality, peppering kisses of adoration along your perspired skin, cementing every word he ever uttered to you in the heat of the moment. A brief cry of discomfort from his cock pulling out had him comforting your body with gentle caresses, all while witnessing the artistry that was a pearly concoction of both your hot cum painting the pink jewel of your butt plug with a filthy iridescent. “Fuck, you really are fucking mine, Y/N.”

Your soft voice ripped through the sounds of heavy breaths, as your body felt like waves of crashing water under his touch. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You weakly laughed. “Yeah, you can definitely be my boyfriend.” As if that was ever a question.  Your gentle mewls echoed into his ears, as his thick fingers made the move to smoothly twist out your butt plug from your needy hole, that felt the need to keep its clamping clutch onto it. Eddie swore under his breath, falling in love with the winking gape of your asshole. While a clean-up was surely at hand, your beckoning voice had him dropping your toy to lay by your side. His lips found solace in the company of your own, as he brought your sticky being of sweat and cum close, snug under the protective arms of his body. “Yeah, I’m your boyfriend, and you’re my girlfriend.” Eddie Munson’s lips upturned to a damning smile that had you clinging to his closeness for the rest of the night.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

[comicaurora]

What are your thoughts on guardians vol.3? (If you have watched it) I went into it, expecting it went to the garbage like the rest of the mcu, but I was pleasantly surprised by its creativity, trope subversion, and how it wrapped up the previously unresolved arks of its characters.

That's what I've heard!

The thing is, Guardians 3 could be the most transcendent work of cinema ever made, and I'd probably still feel little to no motivation to watch it at this point. It's not Guardians's fault - it's just suffering from the same problem that superhero comics have been struggling with for decades: no matter how good an individual arc or run is, absolutely nothing good lasts or matters in the long term, and the stories are shaped in such a way that "the long term" is the only thing anyone gets to build towards.

Whenever I complain about the MCU I get a handful of people loudly complaining about my complaining, with the general thesis that if I don't like it I shouldn't watch it or talk about it - if I'm not having fun, just stop engaging with it. And the thing is, I have. I am intellectually interested in why this massive franchise is fumbling the bag so hard, which is why I still check in on it sometimes, but I've long since stopped turning to the MCU for uncritical entertainment. And even the good movies or shows with a lot of interesting ideas - good character arcs, fun concepts, interesting planting for future payoff - don't draw me in anymore, because they're hooked into a massive moneymaking machine that will scrap and squander anything if they think it'll make them more in the quarter. It doesn't matter how good the writing is, because the writers are not allowed to tell a complete, finished story, and they have no control over what happens to their characters outside of their own script.

Captain America's arc was set up from literally minute one to answer one burning question at the core of his character: does a world without a war still need Captain America? After that incredibly basic tee-up at the end of First Avenger, half a dozen movies failed to come up with a reason to say "yes," and now Steve is retired for good after getting fumbled through four different storylines that couldn't even pretend that they needed him (the unused Chekhov's Phone from the end of Civil War still haunts me). The foundational arc of his entire character never happened because nobody bothered to keep track of it past a single movie.

Taika did something interesting with Thor in Ragnarok - take away Mjolnir, force him to recognize what it means to be the god of thunder, give him a very Odin-y missing eye - and the very next movie undid all of it. Just kidding, never mind, here's an eye and a new weapon and also his old weapon again, and in one more movie we're even gonna give him his hair back, probably as an apology for all the completely unironic fatphobia we're gonna slather him in for two and a half hours. I'm not even surprised Love And Thunder was such an overblown mess that barely took itself seriously - why would Taika bother trying to give Thor another arc when the powers that be will just roll it back in six months anyway?

I hear Rocket Raccoon has a fantastic arc in this movie. That's great, and demonstrates that he's being written by a writer that deeply cares about him. But he's part of the MCU, and the MCU doesn't let anything end, so if current patterns hold, Rocket is going to continue to serve as quippy plushie-bait for the next dozen movies and none of that depth is going to come through in the long term. Hell, since they're making Kang noises for the Next Big Threat and Kang's entire gimmick is rewriting timelines, literally none of this is guaranteed to matter. By next year, it might not have even happened anymore.

The MCU has successfully shaped itself into a paradigm where the bright spots of good writing are overridden and lost as soon as the writers room turns over, and that makes it really hard for me to muster up the enthusiasm to watch even a really good movie that's locked into the exact same grist mill as everything else. I'm glad people liked it, I hope it gets to stay good this time - I just have no desire to watch it.

#asks #not aurora

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Cut the Shit-Delusion, Sweetheart | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

summary: A young actress confesses her feelings to Cillian Murphy, this is how he responds.

warning: This is a much different story than I usually write but I think it's one that we all need in moments of pain and loneliness; to allow ourselves to feel sad and disappointment and hurt. We use people like Cillian to comfort ourselves and give ourselves reasons to be happy and sometimes we need moments to be sad. I was inspired by Fleabag (of course) and an AI edit I saw of Cillian where he turns someone down and its really sweet even though it breaks my heart lol. Age-diff, 1 noncon kiss, talk of infidelity.

word count: 1791+k

Blue Light- Mazzy Star 🎶

Don't interact if you're a Yvonne-hater, please and thanks <3

She hesitated before she knocked on the side-door of Cillian’s trailer. This desperate feeling overwhelmed her and she knew that she couldn’t sleep unless she went to him and confessed how she felt. She’d been plagued by dreams of them together, these beautiful, perfect dreams that poisoned her sleep like melatonin. She loved him and whether or not he felt the same way, she needed to tell him. She exhaled shakily as she dropped her arm back to her side. She was wearing her normal clothes, out of costume finally after a long day of shooting. She lost her sense of security behind the battlements of her gowns and numerous frilly things. She couldn’t hide her feelings behind her character anymore. 

The door opened and Cillian leaned against the doorframe in a casual greeting. 

“Don’t tell me we have a late night call time tonight, I’m fucking exhausted.” He smiled with his lopsided grin, his wide lips framing his teeth.

“No, but there is some business I need to attend to. May I come in?” She returned his smile and mirrored his posture. 

“Sure, come on.” He stepped aside and raised his arm in a welcoming gesture for her to pass through the door. She nodded in silent thanks and stood awkwardly in his trailer which was simple and quaint. Except for the unmade bed, the trailer was neat and orderly. 

“Oh fuck I’m sorry, were you asleep when I knocked?” She blushed and squeezed her palms together in an anxious gesture. 

“Nah, I was just reading the script for a movie my agent wants me to do next.” 

“Oh,” she nodded and turned her attention to the rack of costumes his character wore, “is it any good?” 

“It's definitely interesting but I don’t think it’s t’e right film for me.” He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. Cillian was wearing a plain t-shirt and pajama pants, and seeing the innocent-intimate side of his life made her want so desperately to kiss him. She sat on the small couch he had in the trailer and tried to smile. 

“That’s too bad. Is it anything I’d like?” She joked and he nodded seriously. 

“Actually, yeh. I’ll send it over once I’m through. I’ve been re-reading it.” He moved his hands through the air as he spoke, so unlike his characters. She almost laughed and he smiled. 

“So, what can I do for you? You said you had some business to attend to. Sounds serious. Should I be worried?” He raised his eyebrow and crossed his legs, his hands cupped around the edge of the mattress. She tried to speak and immediately failed. Frustrated and embarrassed tears filled her eyes and she hid them by looking up at the ceiling. Cillian furrowed his brow, concerned. 

“What’s wrong?” He leaned forward on the bed and she shook her head, laughing lightly at herself. 

“I feel so incredibly stupid now for coming here.” She looked away and the bed squeaked softly as Cillian stood and joined her on the couch. She scooted over to give him some room and picked at the skin on her hands. 

“You can always come to me. Whatever it is.” He said softly and the air around them stilled with anticipation.

“Oh don’t say that, Cillian. You’re so kind…” she started to cry and tried to hide her face. 

“Fuck, I hate tears, please don’t cry! Did somet’ing happen?” He raised his hands helplessly, holding them over her without being sure what to do with them. She nodded her head slowly and hiccuped pitifully. 

“You’ll have to forgive me for my comforting abilities. I’ve never been good on t’at front and I have boys so I’m better at comforting members of the male species.” He shrugged and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She laughed despite herself and wiped her eyes. She stood and paced the front of the trailer, knowing that it was now or never. 

“Cillian, this is such a horrible way to end your nice evening but I can’t continue on set without getting this off my chest. I hope you’ll forgive me.” She dared herself to look at him and he met her eyes, holding her eye-contact with mature resolve. 

“Of course.” He nodded softly, wrinkling his forehead, now more concerned with what his costar was going to tell him. He was naive. He assumed she was going to tell him that she couldn’t work with him anymore or that something had happened in their scenes that had made her uncomfortable. He shifted uneasily on the couch, watching her. She tried to speak a few times but exhaled and shook her head. Cillian stood and met her where she was standing. He was a good few feet taller than her and so much older, but having him there beside her made the feelings she wanted to tell him about so much stronger. 

“Cillian, this isn’t easy to say,” she looked down at her hands and then up into his clear blue eyes. “I have feelings for you, more than our professional relationship can offer. Working with you on set all this time has… it’s made my feelings so much harder to ignore, Cillian.” 

He froze and remembered to breathe, drawing in a startled breath. 

“T’at wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.” He ran his hand over his mouth and looked away, his blue eyes moving through his hidden thoughts. 

“I know you probably don’t feel the same but I just… it’s driving me mad, Cillian. It’s becoming a form of method acting that isn’t fun anymore.” She tried to laugh lightly but grimaced and put the backs of her hands against her burning cheeks. 

“Yeh…” he nodded and sighed, his eyes wide. 

She groaned and returned to the couch, sitting on her sweaty hands. 

“I can go, Cillian. I can leave if you don’t want me here anymore.” She whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“No, no. We need to talk t’rough this.” He said calmly, slowly, and covered his mouth with his freckled hand. 

“Oh God, I’ve gone and fucked everything up. I’m sorry Cillian. I knew you didn’t feel the same but I still let myself go to you.” She leaned back against the couch and pulled her hands through her hair and pulled the skin back from her face. 

“Stop it. Don’t say t'at.” Cillian snapped not unkindly but sternly and took a deep breath. “See, we need to talk about t’is so we can still work together, eh?” He ran a hand through his own dark hair and looked at her for a moment, thinking. 

“How, Cillian? If you knew how I felt about you… it’s maddening. I can’t sleep, Cillian. You’re all I think about as pathetic as it sounds,” she took a deep breath, “I love you. And now you’ll hate me.” She continued and moved her hands, clasped together between her knees.

Cillian sighed and moved abruptly to her side on the couch, opening his body towards her. 

“Don’t talk for me, eh? Look, I understand. It’s hard to not develop certain er… feelings when we do what we do, right?” He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips awkwardly.

“I know I’m childish, Cillian, but I can’t help it. I’m suffering without you… without more from you, more than we can do on set.” She whined and rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold. “Can you indulge me? Do you feel even a little of what I do?” She whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. He said nothing for a second before running his hands up and down his face, exhaling loudly into his palms. He put his hands down and leaned towards her on his elbows. 

“I’m married, sweetheart. Yvonne is my wife and I love her.” He whispered softly, his hands splitting the space between them. 

“But I love you.” She whispered back and leaned in to kiss him. He allowed her to kiss him once and when she pulled away, dejected, he took her chin gently. 

“Cut the shit-delusion, sweetheart. You’re young… far too young for me. You may t’ink you love me but you don’t know me.”

He took her face in his hands and smiled sadly as tears rolled down her pink cheeks. 

“I know you’ll find someone who truly loves you. You’re a beautiful young woman who has her entire life ahead of her. I’m flattered t'at you feel t’at way about me but we can’t, I can’t. If the roles were reversed and we were married and Yvonne approached me, wouldn’t you want me to stop t’ings before t’ey went too far?” He supported her head as she dropped it slightly to the side. She felt empty of words and so he continued. 

“You’re a darling girl but you know we can’t do t’is.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and wiped away her tears. “You need a boy your age who knows how to love you in the way you need to be loved. I only know how to love my wife… and she’s the only one who knows how to love me.”

“I could have loved you in whatever way you needed.” She whispered weakly and he smiled softly. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothed her like a father, “but you wouldn’t have been happy wit' me. You’re out of my league and you would have gotten bored of me.” He joked lightly and she allowed a pained smile to form on her lips. 

“I’m sorry, Cillian. I feel like such a fool.” She closed her eyes and he hugged her close. 

“Nah, you’re still a kid. You’re many t’ings but foolish is not one of ’em.” He squeezed her tightly and kissed her head affectionately. “You’re a good kid and a great actress. We’ll be fine, the two of us, eh?” He pulled away and she wiped her eyes dry. 

“I’ll try.”  

She kissed him briefly on the cheek and rose to her feet. She walked to the door and looked back at the actor with a small smile, the door open in front of her.

“Goodnight, Cillian.” 

He nodded from the couch. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

Cillian stood and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. 

“You weren’t the only one.... That is, you weren’t the only one who felt…” he broke off and cleared his throat, “but it's better t’is way, yeh?.... It’ll pass, love. It’ll pass.” 

He met her eyes one last time and she nodded sadly yet full of a completeness found in their mutual understanding. 

“Goodnight, Cillian.” She said again and closed the door behind her and left the trailer, walking with her back to the wind. Cillian collapsed back on the couch and looked at his watch, wondering if Yvonne was awake. She always answered his calls. She put up with everything, God bless her. She was everything and more than he deserved. He rang her up and she answered after the second ring, her voice ringed with sleepiness.

"Heya, love." He whispered with a smile, "No, everyt'ing's fine. I just wanted to call you. I miss you, girl. Yeah, yeah. Put them on."

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian fluff #oppenheimer #cillian fic #cillian fanfic #fanfiction

[melon-kiss]

I know some of you don't speak Polish and we can't afford to translate 40-min-long chaotic interviews for you and I'm a bit bored (meaning: my brain wants a break from writing but I'm stubborn and I want to finish it TODAY), so I thought I'd give you a bit of a trivia based on interviews with the actors and the crew of 1670:

throughout all the interviews, no one really asked if we're getting season 2. I mean, someone did and the response was: "Well, we know nothing" but nobody really asked if they had any IDEA about what would happen in the next season

I'm not sure about the actors but the creative and directive levels went to a series of lectures on how people lived in Poland in the XVII century

they received a substantial funding, especially considering the directors were complete "no-names"

filming took 3 months, December through February 2022 if I recall

they all lived in an open-air museum in Kolbuszowa; in fact, almost all of the building were already there, they only had to build the house, the barn and the forge

there was no delay in filming, which is apparently rare in the industry but that was because they had a very tight schedule and couldn't afford staying longer in the museum

the last episode was filmed on one day and that was the last day of filming and because of technical issues with cameras working in the inn (the short shot of Maciej serving the pig to the Adamczewskis' table had to be re-done 20 times!), they had to completely rearrange the wedding party scenes, turning them into long shots; the entire labor/dancing scenes were supposed to be shot from 13 (!) different perspectives and be arranged in a "music video fashion"

one of the first episodes (if not THE first episode) to be filmed was episode 7

the script was written with Bartłomiej Topa (Jan Paweł) in mind, however, the actor wasn't really convinced about participating in this project and took his sweet, sweet time to decide on it; same goes to Dobromir Dymecki (Bogdan). Topa says it wasn't because he didn't find it good - it was because he was afraid that the project would be underfunded and therefore fail as projects like that usually don't get the attention they need in Poland

Bartłomiej Topa said he portrayed Jan Paweł as evil and conniving for the first two weeks of being on the set and the first scene they recorded was the one with the "Adamczycha" sign falling down; only after that time, after one scene in particular (don't remember which one, sorry), he finally saw the true nature of his character and changed his approach to the portrayal

surprisingly, Michał Sikorski (father Jakub), unlike Topa, thought of his character as a silly, innocent man and he changed his mind only after seeing the Aniela-Maciej dance scene where he says Love is peaceful, love is kind, love is... unacceptable - he understood he got to play a villain

the actors were FORBIDDEN to improvise; their lines had to be memorised prior to filming

they shot the barrel-cleaning scene (the thing they do before blowing the magnate's son's head up) for 2h because Bartłomiej Topa and Andrzej Kłak (well, he plays Andrzej) couldn't stop laughing; Topa mentions he doesn't even remember how they managed to get it done

all the mud was brought there ON PURPOSE

Kirył Pietruczuk (Maciej) is a debutante when it comes to film, however, he is the only actor in the crew with an acting degree; not only that - he graduated with honors

when asked about this, Michał Sikorski said: "Well, but it doesn't matter, does it? Because, even thought I haven't graduated, I got to play a nobleman and he... well..." (obv that was A JOKE; he is like the sweetest person ever!)

he also said he wrote a "Maciej's journal" during filming and spent a lot of time creating a backstory for his character; he said it was helping with the a-chronical shooting; he read one of the entries out loud in his interview

he jokingly said his favourite episode is the last one because he got to kiss Martyna (Aniela) there

as mentioned before, casting Maciej's role took the longest. They interviewed about 300 candidates and none of them fit. Kirył recalls it was right after he signed a deal with an agency for the first time in his life and he immediately received a call after his first cinema audition and it was 1670, of course! However, he reports that the process was extremely long - he had to go through several stages, each one of them revealing more and more of the script and he wasn't informed it would take that long

The creators said they looked for someone who'd understand the character and his role in the film - as he is the eyes and ears for us, people from XXI century. "He's basically like a viewer of the events, one of us", Kordian Kądziela (director, episodes 5-8) says. It was important he had a good chemistry with Martyna (she was the first and only "Aniela" he had to do short scenes with and the chemistry was immediate) and was able to break the fourth wall properly - he had to have the talent to comment current events with just one look and I personally think he does it perfectly. The actor was also supposed to be "easily likeable by girls"

The first scene they shot together - meaning as Aniela and Maciej - was the dance scene and Kirył says it's his favourite scene in the entire show

Kirył said the scene with the magnate's son was initially very aggressive on his part, however, after speaking to the directors, he decided to tone it down as it was, indeed, not fit for the character to be this angry

they all said, once they got down to it, they had a feeling they were a part of something special

Feel free to add your trivia or correct me if I'm wrong.

#1670 #1670 netflix

[justarandombrit]

Okay, so in case anyone couldn't make it to the livestream (and just because I wanted to), I wrote down some notes while watching it, so if anyone wants to read them, they're below the cut. (Also sorry ANI fans, my dad came in to borrow a pencil while the ANI segment was happening, so I missed a lot of it)

. There was a 4 minute long intro voice over before AVPM

. James watched AVPM

. 600,000 and Lauren plays the green screen piano

. 700,000 and Lauren does an architectural digest on the green screen house

. Jon really loves Ready To Go

. Darren keeps letting Joey know he sounds like shit on old recordings

. Pinball Pete’s burnt down 🙏🙏

. MAMD was the first student produced album to make the charts

. A Very Potter Sequel’s name came before A Very Potter Musical

. They accidentally wrote Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

. James gave Julia Albain leg splints

. During Starship the entire cast was breathing fibreglass

. Starship was called “knowingly amateurish”

. Darren was supposed to write 15 songs for Starship, but he got cast on GLEE

. Darren flew in to join a rehearsal as a surprise, ran in singing Beauty and everyone was so pissed

. Everyone still loves Kick It Up A Notch

. Nick: “Which was Holy Musical B@man-

Lauren: “Fuck yeah”

. They made up Sweet Tooth, and then found out he was an actual Batman villain

. Matt came up with “Calendar Man, your days are numbered” in his dream, and it was so good it forced him awake to instantly call Nick

. Everyone thought the flying machine joke was the best AVPM joke

. Goin' Back To Hogwarts Reprise made everyone cry

. AVPSY was five hours long

. Curt saw AVPSY

. Darren arrived 2 hours before the show and didn't get a chance to read through a lot of the script

. Darren came up with “I hope you find that swimming pool”

. Joey ate one banana on the day of AVPSY and during Sidekick went “I'm losing my vision”

. They had to pay the hotel union $11,000 to use THEIR OWN microphones, and Darren's STILL BROKE

. Jeff accidentally washed out his Aladdin hair dye

. A.J. Holmes had the same agent as Jafar's original VA, and they got him to do the intro and say “pee” and “poop” in Jafar's voice

. ANI was, as we know, expected to be a hit, and, as we know, it was not

. TTO was, as we know, expected to fail, and, as we know, did not

. TTO had a batshit cast party

. Pierce used to ask Matt insanely complicated questions before bed, e.g, “How did WWII happen?”

. Firebringer was a really old concept

. Literally no one questioned why the “I don't really wanna do the work today” clip had loads of people dressed as cavewomen + cavemen

. Firebringer was the first show Jon saw live

. They made up all the Hatchetfield shows at the same time

. Nick kept making sure Paul was having fun

. The song from the Pirate Show, “Born To Be Wretched goes so fucking hard. Like if a sea shanty was a musical theatre song essentially

. Mariah: “Rich gays, please give”

. Lauren choreographed Show Stoppin' Number

. People actually gave Lauren their phones when she asked in Inevitable, and they would take them backstage and take selfies before giving them back. One time it was locked and she shouted “WHAT'S THE PASSCODE?!?!?”

. Joey: “I'm in the middle of Wiggle”

. Everyone was ill during Black Friday

. Bryce saw Black Friday

. BRYCE GOT THE APPLE

. Nick told her “Interesting things happen here” when showing her to the seat

. Ahhh when Jeff played Tom…

. Angela was in Jaime’s improv class

. Angela is no longer on vocal rest

. Angela had to kill Sherman with a finger gun one night

. Will was 100% ready for NPMD

. Will was at a party they went to during A Very Starkid Reunion

. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR STARKID

. Rip Kim

. The Docks of Troutspear is sung by Matt’s favourite character (it also slaps)

. The Pit Stop in Hatchetfield livestream is going to be a tag team deathmatch

. I love Starkid so much

#starkid #team starkid #cinderella's castle #cinderellas castle #starkid productions

[raelle-writing]

In Defense of Jin

I've been seeing a lot of talk about Jin's character and what he does and doesn't do and what he does and doesn't deserve, and it's irking me. I don't think people are treating him fairly, so I'm going to talk about each of the things I've seen to bash his character one by one.

This is based on what we know as of episode 7.

"Jin is only nice to Non to manipulate him."

A lot of people seem to think that Jin is only nice to Non as a means to an end. In order to get him to write the script, or to appear to be a good person, etc.

However, I think it's pretty clear through the way that Jin interacts with his friend group and with Non individually that he's being genuinely nice, because he's nice to/about Non when there's nothing in it for him to gain. For example:

When Jin credits Non for the success of their script being approved, even though Non isn't there and will never hear about it. He does this because he knows it's right, even though it alienates him from his larger friend group and makes them poke fun at him, just because he doesn't like the way they discredit Non.

When Jin invites Non to the film pitching even though the others tried to leave him out. It would've been easy to pretend to Non that he didn't think about it or had forgotten, but instead he again chooses to include Non even though he knows his friends don't want that, and he does it because he knows Non worked hard on the script and deserved the recognition as well.

When Jin shows up to check on Non after something bad happens, not once but twice. The first time interrupting a su*cide attempt and saving Non's life. Jin doesn't know that, but that's part of the reason why it matters.

"Jin doesn't stand up for Non when his friends bully him."

This one honestly boggles my mind. People seem to think that Jin never stands up for Non when his friends are shitty when in reality Jin stands up Non again

and again

and again

and again

and again.

Maybe Jin doesn't do enough, I've seen people say that. But the reality is that it is really really hard to be the only person in a given group that repeatedly calls something out as wrong when no one else wants to hear it. That's scary and demoralizing and makes you feel ostracized and alone. I've been in that situation myself, and it is so much easier to just give in and stop standing up for what is right instead of putting yourself in that uncomfortable position over and over. Particularly when no one that you're speaking to is receptive of it.

Jin isn't a bystander, he's a pretty active defender. Who is a bystander? Fluke.

Fluke is the biggest bystander there is, he refuses to stand up to/for anything at any point in time. Fluke knows that Tee and Top were the ones who broke the camera and doesn't approve of it, but still doesn't stay anything or stand up for Non. He doesn't back Jin up in that moment, or several other moments when Jin looks to him for support.

Jin stands and he stands alone. But despite that he never wavers, he always calls them out and defends Non at every opportunity, whenever he's around. The only time he stops is when the people around him don't back him up - including Non himself.

"Jin should leave his friend group because of the bullying."

This mentality makes me think that people haven't ever had to cut off a support system before. These people are Jin's closest friends, the people he spends all of his time with. Jin isn't shown to have anyone else.

At the beginning of episode 5, Jin is shown to be surprised by the way the friend group reacts and interacts with Non, asking why they call him names. Which means that for Jin, this bullying stuff is brand new to him. It's not like he joined the group knowing they were bullies and was okay with it.

It's been a few weeks since the start, maybe a month. Asking Jin to cut off all of his closest friends to choose Non isn't reasonable. That's not how people work. You don't give up your entire support system that easily, unless they betray you.

Jin is stuck between his closest friends and his new friend/crush. He chooses Non time and time again, and perhaps if things had gone further or gone differently Jin would've finally chosen to walk away. But it hasn't been that long, and Jin is stuck in a tough spot as the only person who stands up for Non. He's a teenager and is trying to have the best of both worlds. Was he being naive that Non and the others could ever coexist? Yes. But he's young and idealistic and I don't think that's a crime.

"Jin tells Non to stay in the friend group selfishly."

I'm not going to argue that Jin wanted Non to stay in the friend group. I'm not even going to argue that it's not somewhat selfish considering Jin has a crush on Non. But I also feel like people forget that Non walking away from the others means walking away from the movie script he wrote.

Jin calls that out over and over, telling his friends it isn't fair to force Non out, and telling Non it wouldn't be fair to himself to give up on that. And I kind of agree with him. Maybe Non's mental health would've suffered less if he had just left the group and given up on the script, but Jin doesn't know how unstable Non can be. He doesn't know that Non is on medication and is being extorted for money. All Jin sees is a friend being treated unfairly after doing a lot of good work for them. So he pushes Non to stay and not give up on his script.

Does he make the right choice? I don't know. But I honestly don't think there was a right choice when you weight Non walking away from the group and losing his script against the opposite. It's an impossible situation.

"Jin released the video to destroy Non."

I wrote a meta previously that I wasn't sure that the video that got released was Jin's. I'm not going to argue that here. Because it's likely that it was Jin that recorded the video.

However I am very sure that Jin didn't release the video himself. The whole thing was shot too weirdly. If Jin had released the video, they would've just shown it so that we can all start to hate him. They didn't do that. Instead they showed him crying over his laptop before shorting it out.

We're also shown these two shots - the one on the left is Jin's screen, and the right is the person who uploaded the video of Non. Notice a difference?

Yeah Jin didn't release that video. He was watching the video already posted and crying over it. Someone who uses dark mode (Tee is shown to) released that video.

Jin shouldn't have recorded the video. I'm not going to argue about that. It was stupid and it was petty and Jin was angry and upset.

But does that make him the same level as his friends? Especially considering Jin didn't release the video himself, and was reacting in anger... I don't think so. I don't think that makes him the same level as the people who systematically destroyed and exploited and terrorized Non.

Jin has things to feel guilty about, but not as much as the others.

In conclusion: is Jin a perfect angel? NO.

He's not. No character in this show is an angel. All of them make mistakes and hurt each other, and are toxic. But Jin isn't what people think that he is. Jin isn't a mastermind or a terrible person or the one who tore Non to pieces the most.

Jin is a kid. He's a 17 year old dealing with a lot of shitty friends and emotions and who deserves to have some grace extended to him, especially since (unlike most of the other characters in the show) he's TRYING to do what's right.

And you can see that in present, Jin's actions have changed him.

Jin goes from a happy, bubbly, smiley, friendly person to someone who never smiles, who is sarcastic and has a strained relationship with his friends. What does that show? Guilt.

Jin's action have shaped him into the person he is now. He carries the weight of what he did, of the part he played in ruining Non's life. None of the other characters show that. They're all the same in the present as they were in the past. They haven't learned, haven't grown.

Jin is the best person in that group of friends. Why did he stay friends with them? Could be he feels like he has to because of his part in recording the video. Maybe he feels stuck. Maybe he feels like he deserves it. It's hard to say, I'm sure we'll find out in future episodes.

But as of right now? I don't think Jin deserves the hate he's getting as a character. Not for one mistake against the dozens of mistakes and toxic actions the other characters commit every episode.

#this turned into a fucking novel my bad #I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about Jin okay #jin dff #non dff #dead friend forever #dff the series #dead friend forever the series #dff meta

[rabnerd28]

Watching Cats (2019) DvD Commentary

Thoughts as I watch:

Tom is literally basing this entire movie on the one time he saw Cats in 1981 when he was 8 years old

He called the movie a coming of age film about Victoria meeting characters that effect her and that Tugger represents the sin of lust (yes I am laughing)

He said abandoned three times in a row to describe Grizabella

Tom made up the thing about Grizabella used to be with Macavity happened because he wanted to cut out the idea that she was a prostitute

Has Bustopher eat trash because he thought that's what cats would be more interested in

The pause in Bustopher Jones when he says to gather the cats is a meta joke about the cats actually being people

The food was CGI

"Sees the implication of his unchecked appetites" in reference to Victoria and Bustopher Jones

Hooper brought his niece and nephew to set to play on the Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer set

He keeps insisting that there is a learning and growing arc for Victoria, but I have no idea what he's talking about

He has barely talked about the characters as actual characters and mostly just talks about how great it is to work with famous celebrity number five or how they're symbolical. I think he's making things up at this point

He added the love story because he thought Misto trying to figure out how to be a magician was a good parallel with Victoria's story of finding herself

Originally the first barge scene was longer with a lot of improv from James and Rebel as Growltiger went on

"Robbie Fairchild is brilliant" that is the only thing Tom said that makes sense

This man really said "women can be the god of cats in 2019"

Judie and Ian were the ones to decide that Gus and Old D had a thing...well at least they followed the pattern of cats actors making weird decisions for their characters

I've come to the conclusion that Tom chose his cast based on which famous actors he's always wanted to work with

Tom has no idea how to describe choreography...just like how he has no idea how to film it

Giving Victoria a solo to sing was ALW's idea

He thinks the call and response of Beautiful Ghosts and Memory is brilliant and doesn't understand how he fucked that up

They almost cut "Moments of Hapiness"

He keeps talking about how great this film is for women, but where is Demeter sir!

He didn't know that it's Jellylorum that sings Gus' song and because Ian couldn't tell what the relationship between the two was he cut out her singing it for him

He talks about the advantage of mixing the CGI with the practical clothing, and I'm like, you know what would be even better? No CGI!

I don't know who's playing Bomba, but she was the first person to be cast in Cats

He said that he thinks Macavity works better as a solo and it didn't need to be a duet...I have never felt more like murder in my whole life

Taylor Swifts dad gave him the idea for the catnip

He likes the idea of Macavity being evil yet still plays by the rules...why?

He's talking about the changes from the musical to Mr Mistoffelees, and boy is he not bringing up that Tugger is the one that sings the number

Talks about community like there was any in this movie

This man has no idea who Jemima/Sillabub is, does he?

He finally mentioned Mette Towley as Cassandra at least. Recognize that she's the best character in this film goddamit!

Apparently Munkustrap was supposed to be learning about leading this whole film...wat

Apparently he watched the 98 film several times while writing the script...and yet this movie is straight

I'm not watching the commentary for the end credits. Fuck I hate this man

#cats musical #cats 2019 #tom hooper #i will keep my gag of not knowing who that is going even on my tumblr #cats the musical #cats movie

[yourlocalstranger123]

[I was bored and wanted to take a break from writing....something 😳 👀💧]

The yandere sagau side: it's exactly the same but just a little too obsessed. They worship you, giving you sacrifices offerings. You couldn't exactly see since you have a limit to see what they offer you. You just maybe it's an item that has a shape of a human. Who knows... the experimenters like dottore and Albedo will work together to create a body for you that is made on the details of the ancient script. Ei/raiden would make the body eternity, Zhongli would put protection on it, Venti would give the blessing of the wind to alarm you of the danger and Nahida would give you knowledge since you only just protect and make people safe and ofc make them feel warm. So you don't know what's happening 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♀️🤷 and they made sure the body could at least withstand most of your power.

● Morax first felt a little alert. 'Who are you?' 'What do you want?' He was confused. He never felt a presence that felt more godly than the celestials themselves. He felt stiff. He asked the others if they felt this...presence. They say yes but it seems to have no harm. He couldn't risk it, he was still on high alert. But when the moment he was fighting, he felt protected, stronger too. Are you perhaps helping him..? Why? He did not worship you if you were a God of some kind. After the war, he cried, cried loudly as the people of liyue can hear his pain and the cries of his roaring. Suddenly he felt your presence once again but stronger. Were you here to attack him? "SHOW YOURSELF!" He yelled. Still no answer. Weird....he laid down then continued softly sobbing, mourning of his friend's death. He felt comforted though, he tried keeping it away from him, this 'comfort' feeling. But slowly he melted into it. Sleeping soundly. He felt safe. When he woke up he saw his friends, were they actually alive? Is this perhaps an illusion you made to taunt him? His knees went weak. 'No matter, even if this is fake, please...just let him hold them one more time..even if it's not real.' He actually woke up. He looked sad, as he was about to accept the death of his friends, he sees all of them. Even the yakshas came back alive. He saw Xiao on his knees sobbing in happiness. Is this your doing?...thank you..thank you so much. Truly. He accepted you. Your kindness. He made everyone know you, well the only people who didn't know you was the one who has no vision. The yaksha knows you, well only your doings and presence. They can also feel it. They worshiped you, and give you things. They weren't rich so they could only give you simple things like flowers but it didn't matter to you. They could feel the warmth grow bigger. They smiled. They wonder if you smiled back at them? Your truly a wonderful God. Slowly everyone in liyue finds out your the creator somehow and they worshiped you even more. Everyone who had one felt your presence even more. They felt very happy, truly they are blessed to have you as their creator. When Zhongli abandoned his duty as a archon, he still worshiped you. Although not fancy as it used to but he felt that you were still happy with these simple offerings. Everyone in liyue was so very happy. Azhada also felt it. He was set free and when Zhongli tried to make him go back, there was a note before he could attack. "He deserves a second chance. Let him experience the wonderful things in life. To: Rex Lapis" he was confused, was this the Morax he knew? His heart grew soft as he read the letter. Suddenly he felt his form start to change. He panicked and looked into the river. He looked like a mortal. Although he must give you credit for your taste. In the future, he brags on and on that you made a form for him. "Shall the Geo protect you with its heart."

● Heck, even the celestials were concerned and a little scared of you. 'What are you?' They thought. You felt familiar but yet not so familiar either. 'Are you an outlander?' Later they got used to it. They thought maybe you were a Supreme God that is watching over them, in the past, they were on guard. Waiting for you to strike. But....they felt a safe feeling, an addictive feeling. 'Who are you? Why are you so...nice?' Until it clicked. Are you...the creator? If you're not then why are you so nice to them?? But it does not matter no more. They will welcome and worship you even if you are a God who is an out-lander

I was too lazy. Oh well, thus is just for practice.

#morax lapis #morax #genshin morax #genshin impact morax #rex lapis #genshin rex lapis #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin sagau x reader #yandere sagau #yandere sagau genshin impact #genshin venti #venti x reader #venti x you #nahida #genshin nahida #genshin raiden shogun #raiden x reader #ei x you #ei x reader #genshin ei #genshin xiao #various x reader #various characters #xiao x reader #xiao x you #genshin zhongli x reader #genshin xiao x reader

[thewarmblanket]

How do na’vi feed their babies?

I’ve been writing a WIP that revolves around a pregnancy since june and I still have no idea. I’ve heard and seen so many answers from they can’t breastfeed bc of their low body fat to actually they do breastfeed to actually they use their kurus

That is a good question! Actually whole fandom now struggles to answer that since we've got some new info about na'vi birthing process in the script for ATWOW.

WARNING! So everything I'm going to tell is yet not been proven to be canon!!!! But since before that we didn't have almost any information at all... It's up to you to use it or not. (and sorry it took me so long to get to the point 😅😅)

Firstly a little about na'vi gestation period and birth. It is not stated how long it takes, but we know that it is split into trimesters and na'vi actually "give birth" in the end of the second trimester! They give birth to a translucent chrysalis called "tsalnu".

And for the third trimester mother nourishes her baby with kuru. And when times comes for the baby to "hatch" that is when the na'vi are born.

Neytiri, Jake and baby Neteyam

(there's supposed to be my thoughts on chrysalis thing but then I thought it wasn't important for the topic so, if you wanna hear it then ask me)

Kuru nourishing

I saw people hating on this concept since kuru is supposed to be an extention of the neutral system, how can it transport nutrients and vitamins through it? These questions started even earlier, when we discovered that reef na'vi can extend their time being underwater by connecting to the sea creatures and plants that can transport oxygen through tsaheylu. But how? Well, apparently it has veins.

Avatar the way of water: the visual dictionary

I'm gonna talk more about possible similarities between na'vi and other animals especially tulkun in the way how they reproduce but later in other questions.

So, when tsaheylu is made, it not only connects two creatures neural systems but circulatory too. I have a headcanon explanation of how it works but it's weird lol. So, do you remember this sticky wet sound kuru sometimes made when connecting/disconnecting? Well, what if, when connected, kuru produces some kind of liquid that is similar to something like blood plasma? And that's when nutrient transportation starts? (and now I'm thinking that it can also keep this fragile organ clean and protected from harsh disconnecting that could rip off poor tendrils). I have some questions on how circulatory system works in that case, like maybe Pandoran animals only have one blood type or it somehow separates inside, but we just don't know. That is a question for the speculative biologists out there!

Now, for the everything I said above, I need some proves on can you consider it canon or not. Your word, Mr. Cameron.

So, he never said anything about chrysalis, but kuru nourishing is pretty much a real thing I suppose. But what happens when the baby is out of it's tsalnu?

Breastfeeding

I haven't heard anything about them not being able to breastfeed due to their low body fat, but my immediate thought was... Why do they have breasts then? 😅 Alright, maybe it has a different purpose, but NIPPLES? For what reason? So I'd rather think that maybe their bodies produce hormones somehow differently than assumed that they have breasts but are not able to feed with them.

We even know that they "nurse their infants for up to four months"! So the answer is clear.

Avatar wiki fandom: na'vi species

Summing this all up!

So the answer for your question is:

- na'vi women give birth at the end of the second trimester and nourish their baby (inside a pod) with their kuru until it's ready to born.

- after birth they breastfeed a newborn for up to four months. ☺️

Thank you for reading!

Btw if you'll finish your WIP please let me know!

#Waiting for more questions! #Ask me about avatar series #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar frontiers of pandora #afop #Atwow

[nikox400x]

Kung Fu Panda 4-All the budget went to the animation (spoilers)

Hey all, its me, the guy who everyday make a tour around this site but almost never talk. How are ya?

Two days ago something arrived to the cinema's screens, something that me and everyone were waiting for since 2018, the fourth film and the begginig of the new kung fu panda triology.

You know? When I sat on that theather seat with my friends to see what Dreamworks had prepared for us, I told myself; "Maybe that post I made a while ago throwing shit at what seemed like Kfp 4 was going to be was a bit hard, I hope I can come out regretting what I said that time"

And as soon as the credits ended, it was clear to me, I dont regret a shit. Maybe it was a little exaggerated, compared to what a megamind fan would think about the terrible sequel they made, but still: the film is crappy and boring most of the time. But why?

I'm going to explain some points.

1- Po? Is that you?

I don't know you guys, but i don't think the panda we knew in the end of the third film is the same as this one. Seriously, he share more comparisons with the Po from the legend of awessonless than the one from the films, maybe its a personal thing but it feels that way. At least in the beggining of the film feel like that.

And I don't know what he was thinking about when he decided to follow a thief he doesn't know at all and who tried to steal in his own palace, and that suspiciously know who is the chameleon, whose were her plans, her past, where she lived, where exacly they had to pass through avoiding all the guard inside her home, why the others thiefs of the city hate her so much... With Po's experience with criminals this is like a chef throwing water on a pan with boiling oil, it's obvious what is going to happen.

2- Zheng- Female Nick Wilde but without charisma or half of his intelligence.

I knew it from the first moment I saw Zheng's desing, the people who know me can corroborate that; her facial expressions, her tone while she talk, her animal race, her position as thief, her final when she is part of the justice same as the protagonist... it's clearer than water I think.

Everyone could say this is forgivable if she's smart, but surprise, she's not. This character is just an absurd try of this company for """"conect with infant audience""""(I don't know in what sense, I supose for the cute design, idk). But the point is, the supposed objective of the hollywood companies is give the new generetions better things than we got at their age, but what I see is laziness for write a decent scrip only for take an advantage of a known IP and make easy money. Even the children have quality standars, this is not the dragon warrior and of course this is not kung fu panda.

And talking about the dragon warrior, having our deep and lovely Tigress with her magnific development or Tai Lung back from the spirit realm... why in the hell this character exists?! Oh yeah, for being trending topic in twitter for three days. Yay...

3- The furious five and Shifu, for us : our pretty boys, and for Dreamworks: living jokes.

What made Kung Fu Panda what it is, is not the fucking panda, it's them. They're the inspiration for Po, their allies, the royale representation of kung fu and the ones which everything started with.

Po's a comic relief, and his mission is show his development in part using his humor, but the humor in this film barely works because of the lazy script. Something that even the talented Jack Black himself can't fix, beacuse his only role there is dublin his character, unlike the rest of the residents of the Jade Palace except Dustin Hoffman.

Seth Rogen (Mantis) himself even said that he wasn't even contact by Dreamworks in the first place, only for make a scream in the credits, that's sad beacause he really wanted to see Mantis on the screen. And I know and I understand that the five are expensive, but cmon, they could just simply change the voice actors and offset it with a good script but that's not the case of course. Their role in the film is being a counter for Po's constant jokes, for not to saturate the spectator with jokes, now that's not in there anymore, thank you Dreamworks.

4-The chameleoooohhn and her "motivation".

I can't say much, basically because out of her design she's nonsense. She says that because of her size, she was reyected for being a kung fu warrior.

Yeah of course but only one little thing, what about Shifu? Viper, a warrior without tips? Mantis, literally a dawn insect? Master Oogway, a TURTLE? The masters goose? C'mon even there's a fucking master chicken! Don't talk shit chameleon!

Her importance for the plot? Its almost a lie, the others villains had links to important characters; Tai Lung (with his link to Shifu's past), Shen (with his link to Po's past) or Kai (with his link to Oogway's past), all of them related to important characters. And her? To zheng's past and present I guess? But again, anyone know this character. She's like a villain from a Disney show, you know the type of villain who say a lot of things but at the end, she don't support nothing to the lore.

And her personality is like a mix of all the previous villains, and this sounds good right? HAHAH nope. Do you remember when as a child you mixed all the plasticines of all the colors to create the final color and you ended up with a color similar to poop? well that's exacly how her personality feels like.

5- Po's dads; the only reason they're there is because they ran out of characters to make the film.

The tittle itself tell everything, they don't do anything for the script in all the film, and their objective could be done since the start.

The script of the film except for the final looks like a draft which they didn't know how to complete, everyone who watch it can see it perfecly. The animation, the music and the backgrounds are the only things notable here.

6- Tai Lung and the cheapness nostalgia.

Fan service is not necesarry bad, above all if is used in a good way, they sold us Tai Lung as a miracle but his importance for the plot feels just like a Stan Lee cameo, I like Tai Lung I can say that. But this is too weak, Shen and Kai are only characters in the background who don't do nothing except being defeated or make facial expressions (I don't even joke that Shen would show respect to Po considering what we saw in the second movie, and Kai wasn't supposed to be destroyed as a spirit, what the hell is he doing here again? *sign* I'll to stop trying to make sense of this).

By the way, anyone else think that the dragon warrior role is understimated? I mean Shifu obligated Po to transfers the role to another one just because yes, i mean he only has been the dragon warrior for less than 5 years and now they want to replace him with a random. Everything just for at the end, he choosed a thief with at least 30 crimes registred and who was a traitor during the 75% of the movie.

7- The """""""""humor"""""""", except they forgot the parts where I must to laugh.

Seeing nonsense hits only beacuse yes stopped of being funny a long time ago, and no, I don't want to talk about the bunnies of the portrait because I would get sick. I had to go to the cinema drunk to endure the filler that the movie had, no joke, it was the only way to laugh at those jokes.

So I think about applying the same method as in any movie with bad jokes, ignoring the jokes. I tried to do the same thing but with the pace that the film managed, such a thing was impossible, the pace of the movie seems to be made for Tiktoker children with attention deficit. From the chaos in the quarry until Po takes the bitc... uhg fox out of prison, only 10 fucking minutes pass, all of that for what? So that you feel like the baseless information and the nonsensical plot that they tell us is of any use? they could simply make a non-canonical short and that's it, but no, yes or they were going to tell us a story written by rotten old men who spend the entire day watching Tik Tok. It's not going to be that the child who sees this doesn't get bored, we know that much today's children don't have many neurons as they say, but even to make movies for them you have to have a certain talent.

In some point at the beguining Po make a joke about the ausence of the furious five saying that at least he had them in cardboard posters, and this would be a good joke. Only if the stupid film could be prove that the franquise can do something memorable without the furious five, but again, that's not the case.

Don't have any respect for this movie, look what it had with you. I understand that it is enjoyable because of the animation but it does not go beyond that line, it destroys important things about the canon and spoils its teaching about the need for change by treating it in a terrible way.

Coclusion: KFP 4 is just another Po's adventure as Shifu says, it won't tell nothing to you or make you feel different, it's a shame but after Megamind 2 I imagined something like this. It's a dark era for film, expecially the animated one so like Scar said; Be prepare, there're worse things waiting for us.

Do you want something with real quality? You don't even need kung fu panda 1,2 or 3, for make it easy to this film let's take this marvelous example; kung fu panda: secrets of the scroll (2016). You'll say; "An animated short, this is not like-" Shhh Just watch it, you won't regret it.

If you think I'm wrong in something, just rewatch the film. And if still you aren't agreed with me, well, I respect you and I'm happy you like it. I wish I could love it as you do, but that doesn't mean that the movie isn't bad, because if you watch it with your brain on or remembering the previous movies it's terrible.

. Me? I've to write a story, I love you all. Except you, Dreamworks, I'm mad with you, expecially when you do this at the same day as Akira Toriyama's death :(

#kung fu panda #secrets of the scrolls #kung fu panda 4 #kung fu panda 2 #tigress #furious five #akira toriyama #dreamworks #po ping #lord shen #tai lung #general kai #kung fu panda 3 #the lion king

[agentrouka-blog]

Dany fan here: I think other Dany fans think Jonsas are over the top with Dany hate because of pol!Jon. I follow many Jonsas because I’m perfectly fine with Jonsa. It’s not for me but I see the vision. That said I’m a bit of an unusual Dany fan in the sense that I’m a big fan of the Meereenese Knot essays and think the interpretation of Dany presented there is pretty spot on. I personally think Dany has a good heart but that circumstance and experience and terrible coping mechanisms have led her to act in villainous ways and whether or not a character is a villain is determined by their actions regardless of whatever goodness is in their heart. But anyway I do not like the pol!Jon theory. I think it’s out of character for Jon and needlessly cruel to Dany. I think it’s possible that he ultimately kills her and that could be fine and I don’t reject that theory, but I think the idea of Jon deceiving and sexually abusing Dany and then killing her for the sake of Sansa is what Dany fans think of when they think of over the top hate because they assume every Jonsa shipper also believes in pol!Jon.

I do understand why people thought Jon was deceiving Dany in the show though because their relationship was just so poorly executed and Kit and Emilia had no chemistry on screen. Imagine fucking up your show’s romance so badly that people think the script confirming that the love was mutual must have been tampered with.

Hi there!

(I think Dany is a compelling tragic villain, and it's lovely seeing someone loving her for it!)

I do think that pol!Jon (under duress, esentially) is a not unreasonable theory that grew out of the way the show presented their relationship. If there was sexual abuse I think it's fair to say it was in the hands of the more powerful party, though.

That said, I don't see it happening that way in the books at all and I think all characters will be better off for it. I agree it wouldn't feel right.

Certainly not in a punitive "you thought he would love you but he really loves Sansa, now die!!!" way. That cheapens jonsa as much as it cheapens the complexity of the conflict between Dany and Jon.

It's just a deeply uninteresting way to explore their existing conflict or their respective strengths. Not to be a hater but it's not exactly riveting literature watching Dany be manipulated by Daario and it's unlikely to be more so in a repeat performance with Jon who isn't even her type. Same as watching Jon go through a repeat of the abusive Ygritte plotline would be less than compelling.

We'll have instances of romantic manipulation. Littlefinger is practically begging Sansa to use his own obsession against him, and Arya gives us a preview when she lures Raff to his death wearing "Mercy's" face. That's been set up since the first book, and it works as a satisfying response to the way everyone has been telling Sansa how weak and simple she is. It's very personal, very steeped in their respective histories, very poetic.

But for Jon and Dany I think we can expect something more universal and even-handed than that. They are both at varying points manipulative and earnest, highly clever or unexpectly outmaneuvered. And neither will be in this conflict all alone and without advice. Not to mention, we have both of their POVs and watching one just miss all the clues of the other manipulating them would be flat. This only ever works with one POV withheld. The show tried that with Jon Snow live on the screen, to disastrous results. No way is that GRRM's plan.

I'd rather watch two clever adversaries play a big game of chess. And given GRRM's love for that game, I am certain it's also what he would prefer to write.

#anti jonerys #jon snow #anti daenerys targaryen #<- for filtering #jonsa #rouka ask

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Nina and Maggie interview with Caitlin Tyrrell for Screenrant :)❤

Screen Rant: I love this show so much! Season two is amazing and you both are phenomenal in it!

Maggie Service: Oh, thank you so much. Nina Sosanya: Thank you.

Can you talk to me a little bit about playing the human story in this largely Celestial series?

Maggie Service: Yeah, I think they're quite good grounding I think for the audience. It's almost like they're a connector between the Celestial world and the audience. I think that's been set up really well in season two. Nina Sosanya: Yeah, they kind of magnify the themes in a kind of human way that we find sort of quite relatable. The themes of good and bad. The themes of when and if to trust another person with your vulnerabilities, which is what's going on with Heaven, Hell, Crowley, Aziraphale, and, you know, everyone. Maggie Service: Everyone.

I love your characters' dynamics with Crowley and Aziraphale. Can you talk to me a little bit about working with David and Michael to create those relationships?

Maggie Service: Yeah, well by this point, their portrayals of Aziraphale and Crowley are just iconic. But my character didn't get to have anything to do with them really in season one. So it was lovely to actually meet Aziraphale and Crowley in season two and go, "Ah, yeah. This is, okay, that's who you guys are." Nina Sosanya: You know what's actually quite nice is also because they're so iconic that you read the book, you know the characters, then you see season one, and then as human characters, we get to treat them [as] they're just these normal blokes. So these characters don't know about their iconic status at all and don't care, really. They're just taking them at face value. Two quite kooky odd guys to be either suspicious or to be in awe of. Maggie Service: Just they're the loveliest men in the world. Yeah.

What was it like collaborating with Neil Gaiman this season on an original story versus season one where it was an adaptation?

Maggie Service: Well, his focus was very, very clear for what the story was going to be. [He] and Terry Pratchett had spoken about what the sequel would be. Season Two might be a bridge to a possible thing that may or may not happen. Who knows. We have to see how much people love Season Two first, but he was very clear on what it was. So actually, the scripts hardly changed at all. Quite often, you'll get so many different versions of a shooting script, but really, when they landed that's what we shot and that's the story we told. Nina Sosanya: But he was lovely. He was very happy being on set and watching his work comes to life. He likes actors and he likes that process. He likes watching the process of his words being owned by other people. He's very generous in that way. He sort of gives his work away to the actor. Maggie Service: Yeah, he likes writing for specific people, I think because he feels safe in that he can probably hear how it's gonna sound. So when it does I think he quite likes that too. Makes him feel quite clever and makes us feel like we've done a good job. It's good for everyone.

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #interview #nina sosanya #nina sheen #maggie interview #maggie service #nina and maggie #good omens universe #fun fact #❤ #nm and ac #screenrant #screenrant 2023 #s2 interview #transcripts