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vivwritescrappythings · 1 month

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Velma

eddie munson x fem!reader

You attend a Halloween party with Eddie, things don't go quite as planned when Jason Carver acts like a jerk.

cw: allusions to curvy reader, drinking, drugs, blood, violence, eddie fights off screen, body insecurities, kissing, not proofread, working on writing fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

masterlist

—

“Are you gonna go to Chelsea Hanover’s Halloween party?” Eddie asked, long legs hanging out the back of his van. His stained Reeboks were planted firmly on the concrete, knees pushing out of the rips in his black jeans. You sat in the parking lot of the movie theater, eating the remainder of the snacks you hadn’t finished earlier. The night was quiet, most Hawkins residents already tucked safely into their beds.

You paused midway through trying to shove a handful of popcorn into your mouth, is Eddie going insane? “Are you going to Chelsea Hanover’s Halloween party?” You were practically gawking as you swung your sock-covered feet in the crisp night air. The sneakers you wore had been abandoned in a pile on the shag carpet.

You thought Eddie was over all the stupid high school activities at this point, with it being his third go at senior-year and all. He’d never talked about going to a party in the past six months of your budding friendship, and, in Hawkins, there were plenty of parties to attend.

He was quiet as he took another drink from his slushie, red-stained lips turning up into a smirk. “I was thinking about going to sell. Make some money off the rich kids.”

“What, do you want me to come entertain you?” There was an edge to your voice that you didn’t expect. Your chest felt tight as soon as he brought up the party, anxiety knitting your lungs together. You traced the cracks in the asphalt with your eyes.

Your frustration wasn’t meant for Eddie, it rarely ever was.

You had to stop pretending that all your so-called friends from your junior year of high school weren’t because of Billy. None of them had even bothered to speak to you since he dumped you like trash last summer. And especially not since the day of his funeral. They were fake and plastic people.

Eddie chuckled, fishing his carton of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He didn’t seem to notice how stiff you’d become, your legs rigid in the night air. “Well, yeah. If you want. It could be a night of making fun of Hawkins’ finest.”

You smiled weakly, trying to hide the sour mood that had come over you. Eddie just wanted a friend to be there–you knew Gareth and Jeff would say no immediately. You didn’t want to throw him to the wolves alone. Chelsea Hanover’s parties were awful if you didn’t know anyone or didn’t want to dance. Eddie didn’t seem like much of a dancer to you. “You know what, sure. Count me in, Munson.”

His pearly white teeth lit up in the glow of his lighter as he brought the cigarette to his lips, a smile radiating across his masculine features. A tendril of anxiety wrapped around your throat as you filed through worst-case-scenarios, each growing more and more catastrophic.

Your stomach did a flip as you pushed the bucket of popcorn aside, trying to be subtle as your thoughts raced. You suddenly obsessed about how your thighs pressed together and your bra cut into the layer of excess fat in your back, all new discoveries in the past couple of months. Your mother had reminded you that being thin at eighteen would be harder than being thin at seventeen—you’d locked yourself in your bathroom to cry for the better part of your birthday after stepping on the scale.

Eddie didn’t seem to notice your turmoil, methodically chewing as though everything was fine. Of course he wouldn’t notice, he didn’t understand the intricacies of girlhood that made your skin feel too tight. You fluffed your sweater out, suddenly self-conscious about what areas of your body it was snug against.

Robin would help you find a costume.

—

The high socks squeezed just above your knees as you made your way up to the front door, red skirt swishing around the middles of your plush thighs with each step. You took a deep breath, a wave of heat and sound rolling over you as you opened the door. There were people in a variety of costumes everywhere inside. A few classmates nodded at you in acknowledgment as you shut the door and stepped into the humid living room, quickly turning their attention back to their friends.

Where was Eddie? You did a once over of the room, scanning the edges of the dance floor for the shaggy-haired boy. The couches had all been pushed out of the way to make space for a makeshift dance floor, the stereo in the corner booming Cyndi Lauper. It was a miracle that it couldn’t be heard outside.

The clusters of people spilled into the kitchen. There was limited space to weave through the crowd, you kept whispering apologies as you made your way to the other room. Upon entering, you were handed a cup of red punch from a boy you vaguely knew from English. You offered him a smile, a nod in his direction as you raised the cup to your lips.

You wrinkled your nose as you took a sip, it was strong.

There were no traces of Eddie anywhere. The room was filled with Indiana Joneses and Maddonas and Ghostbusters and Flashdance characters. No curly-headed metalheads in sight, though. Eddie didn’t seem like someone who would wear a Halloween costume, not for a party he was planning on dealing at.

You leaned against the breakfast counter lazily, watching the people on the dance floor bump into one another. The plastic cup stuck to your fingers as you gulped down the rest of the drink, grimacing at the after taste of vodka. You traced the edges of the porcelain tiles as you took up your place as a designated wallflower.

You downed four more cups of the punch before you got restless, deciding to investigate the rest of the party before accepting defeat. Your feet shuffled in slow motion as you approached the sliding glass door on the other end of the room. It was open, allowing teens to trickle outside and spread across the dark backyard.

The smell of cigarettes and weed wafted through the door as the autumn breeze picked it up, sparking a small flame of hope that your best friend was outside.

You tripped on the door track as you stepped into the much cooler night, steadying yourself and your sloshing drink against the doorframe before looking up. There were a few groups outside, most nursing drinks or joints or cigarettes and murmuring to one another. The music coming from the living room was so faint that you could barely make out the lyrics.

“Hey, Velma!” Your head slowly turned towards the voice, your lips buzzing as the alcohol settled in. Eddie was illuminated by the soft light diffused by the curtains in the kitchen window. He sat at a metal table with his trusty lunch box, head cocked slightly to the side as he absorbed your costume. You realized he was wearing a dark green “Corroded Coffin” t-shirt under his leather jacket and dark jeans, meaning you vaguely matched.

If you squinted, or drank too much.

You fell into the chair next to him with an oof!, crossing your legs at the ankles as you leaned back. Your head lolled back to rest on the weathered cushion as a breathy laugh escaped your throat. “We match,” you said, looking at how the stars were swirling in the sky. Your breaths were heavy as you waited for the world to still, a smile stretching its way across your face regardless.

“I didn’t know you were gonna come in costume, princess,” Eddie laughed, busily rolling joints to keep his hands occupied. You placed the sticky plastic cup on the table before stretching your arms out in front of you. Your gaze traced the wide cable-knit of the orange sweater, wiggling your fingers as you contemplated.

Self-consciousness reared its ugly head, making you sit up and lean closer to the brunette. “Do I look bad?” you whispered, fingertips finding the edge of your skirt. Your eyes were wide as he paused to study you, a soft grin breaking out on his face. You waited for his judgment, fiddling with anything in your reach before landing on braiding a thin strip of your hair.

“You look great,” he assured. There was a beat of silence, your heads still bent together conspiratorially. Eddie looked like he was thinking, his tongue licked his bottom lip. “You should’ve told me you were gonna dress up, I would’ve done it with you.”

“You already look like you did, Shaggy,” you murmured with a sly half smile, taking another drink as you settled back into the metal chair. Eddie grinned, glancing down at his own outfit.

Everything got all fuzzy on the edges as you finished the red liquid in your cup, joking with Eddie between drug deals. The basketball players who came by barely looked at you, only sparing glances as Eddie overcharged them for weed.

He didn’t notice the cold shoulders, or he at least pretended not to, making fun of their costume choices as soon as they walked away. You pretended like they didn’t bother you. It felt strange to be at one of these parties after everything that happened with Billy, you’d never felt more invisible.

But Eddie saw you, his brown eyes drifting to you more often than usual. You couldn’t tell if it was just because he was worried about how much you were drinking. You found yourself liking the way he talked, hands waving wildly as his voice slid into different impersonations of the people around you. He was always so genuinely Eddie, you wondered what it would feel like to be like that.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you said as Eddie’s attention was pulled away by a group of juniors with wide eyes and crumpled dollar bills. He gave you a thumbs up as he rifled through the contents of his stash.

You swayed a bit as you stood, your grip on the plastic cup crumpling it slightly. The juniors eyed you as you walked around the edge of their little group, Eddie’s voice spitting out prices calling their attention back to him.

Armed with a deep breath to ground yourself, you shouldered your way back into the house. There were even more people than before. With no room to move properly, you jammed yourself into the throng of people that were making their way to the kitchen. Despite how many people were here there was surprisingly still plenty to drink.

You had never known Chelsea to be so generous, at least not during your short-lived friendship.

You stopped in front of the punch bowl, staring at your wobbling reflection in the liquid as you filled your cup with the ladle. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you hardly recognized yourself. The proportions of your face were so different than when you primped and prepped in the mirror, your gaze felt less harsh as you stared at the girl in the punch bowl. You could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks as you glared at the rose-colored image of yourself, wondering what you actually looked like.

A hand clasped your shoulder, an anchor back to reality. You pivoted on your heel, thinking that Eddie had come to talk to you about something, maybe ready to leave and go find somewhere to park and talk and listen to music.

Your face fell when you recognized Jason Carver’s blue eyes.

It had been ages since Jason had so much as talked to you. He used to follow Billy around like a puppy, hoping that it would make him the captain of the basketball team after graduation. Of course, Billy had treated Jason like the rest of you, rewarding his neediness with a cold shoulder.

“You know, Billy would be so disappointed if he was still here.” Jason may as well have spit on you. You stepped back, your spine pressing into the chilly counter as you tried to put some space between you. His eyes had a hard time settling, staring you up and down as you tried to remain still under his gaze. “He probably wouldn’t even recognize you, especially now that you’re hanging out with the losers.”

You scowled, rage making your throat tighten. “He didn’t even like you, Jason.” Blonde eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’m sure he’s rolling in his grave knowing that the pathetic Jesus kid who would’ve blown him if he asked is in charge of the basketball team.”

You were getting a little too loud, the people standing nearest to you were turning their heads to see what the commotion was about. Jason evaluated the crowd before grabbing your wrist, a sick smile spreading across his face. “I think you’ve had enough.” There was a threatening edge to his voice as he leaned to whisper in your ear.

You strained against him, the punch sloshing over the edges of the cup and down your fingers. Droplets flecked onto his yellow Teen Wolf costume like blood. Panic started to creep up your throat, the reminder that none of the other people at the party were going to help you made your blood run cold.

“Jason, stop,” you muttered, your voice thick. More punch slid down your hand as you tried to tug yourself from his grip. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you attempted to find a way out. “Let me go.”

He squeezed your wrist even tighter as hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. You were sure long lines of mascara were left behind, you couldn’t even move your free hand to wipe them away. Fear paralyzed you as the pounding of the music filled every space in your mind. Your mind whirred uselessly, so caught off guard by the aggression that you hardly knew how to respond.

A ringed hand wrapped around Jason’s forearm; you flinched at the sudden intrusion. Eddie was bristling next to you, squeezing the jock’s arm until he let you go. You pulled your wrist back to your chest, your brows knitting together as your lips fell into a pout.

The metalhead pushed his lunchbox into your stomach, his eyes dark as they scoured your face. “How about you go wait in the van, princess? The keys are inside the box,” he murmured, his expression leaving no room for protest. You hesitated a moment, causing him to jerk his chin smoothly toward the front door. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, his jaw set.

Suddenly shy, you dropped your gaze to the floor. Everything was swimming around you, the party too loud and the room too hot and your hands were so sticky with punch. You’d never felt more overwhelmed.

Nodding once, you gripped the handle of the lunchbox for dear life as you scurried out of the house. By the time the night air hit you, you realized you were still holding the cup, most of it empty as it coated your hand and stained the skin. You choked back the rest of its contents, crumpling it in your hand and tossing it into the grass. Eddie’s van was parked across the street, looking out of place amongst the other cars.

–

You were almost asleep in the passenger seat by the time Eddie threw the door open, scaring you into waking up. He was obscured by the lights of the house behind him as he climbed inside. “Eddie, what happened?” you croaked as he tried to jam the keys into the ignition, his hands practically vibrating.

You gasped as he turned to look in the center console. His right eyebrow was caked entirely with blood, a gash splitting it nearly in two. Blood was smeared in a trail down his face, following the curve of his nostril and making its way over his pale throat and to his shirt collar. He plucked a cigarette carton out of the glove box, the streetlamp illuminating the smears of blood across his pale fingers. His knuckles were blown apart.

“Eddie,” you murmured, reaching across the center console hesitantly. He still didn’t look at you, rummaging around for his zippo. The house beyond was relatively quiet, no signs of a party other than all the cars parked along the sidewalk. Jason walked into view of the upstairs bathroom window, glaring at the van before pulling down the shade. His face was smeared with blood, his costume ruffled.

The chains on Eddie’s jacket sleeve jingled as he lit the cigarette, taking a drag with a sigh. “Eddie.” You hesitated for a moment before you pressed your palm into the worn leather. You could feel the muscles in his shoulder jump under your fingertips–you rarely ever touched him. It just felt like a boundary the two of you never crossed. “Y-you didn’t have to do that,” you said.

The heater and the radio jumped to life, Dio blasting in the small space. Eddie’s brows furrowed as he turned to study your face. “Of course I had to,” his voice was surprisingly soft. His hand came out of nowhere, a warm thumb wiping your cheek. Your nerves must have been fried, because you leaned into his touch without thinking about it. “That idiot made you cry, couldn’t just let him get away with it.”

You pulled in a ragged breath, a bit surprised by the amount of tenderness in his voice. His hand was so warm, his fingers wiping away the lines of makeup that ran down your cheeks when you cried. Shaking fingers brought the cigarette back to his pink lips, you watched him take a drag and blow the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“Can we go?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as your throat tightened. It was all you could do to keep from crying, you didn’t even know why you wanted to cry this time.

He smiled, nodding as he pulled away from the curb like a maniac. His hand dropped from your face, turning the radio up until the heavy sound of a guitar riff was blasting through the speakers.

—

Apparently it was Wayne’s night off, so the trailer was off-limits for a late night sanctuary. That was how you ended up at the quarry, the side door pulled open as you and Eddie sprawled out in the back of the van. You’d guzzled a bottle of water as soon as you parked, already starting to feel like a bit of a human being again.

Eddie had cleaned up his face with the bandana he kept in his back pocket. The gash in his eyebrow looked painful, but he kept assuring you it was fine. He sat against the wall of the van as he wiped his knuckles, the largest one on his right hand slightly torn.

It was like once you all had crossed the barrier of touch, Eddie didn’t want to stop. He just kept touching you, be it a hand brushing against your arm or his leg jostling yours. It felt shockingly comfortable, making you wonder why you had been so resistant to touching him before.

“Those rings must not have felt nice,” you commented absentmindedly, laying on your stomach on the carpet as you watched him. Moonlight flooded in the van through the open door, glinting off the silver that adorned his fingers.

He smiled, flexing his hands as he looked down at them. “Carver didn’t seem too excited about them,” he murmured, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You’d cleaned most of the makeup off your face on the drive to the quarry using a baby wipe you kept in your purse. He hardly ever saw you with a clean face, the moonlight revealing a few blemishes on your skin. The urge to cover your cheeks still lingered, but it felt nice to have it off.

“Thanks for like, defending my honor and stuff,” you murmured, looking down at your chipped nail polish. “You really didn’t have to do that, Eddie.”

The idea that he would go out of his way to fight Jason Carver on your behalf was still hard for you to wrap your head around. Eddie loved to talk and bitch and complain about the basketball team and larger society regularly, but he wasn’t violent.

“I did.” His eyes searched yours, wide and honest as always. A joint found its way between his long fingers, he took a deep drag. You watched him through heavy eyelids as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, he continued until he’d finished nearly half the joint. “I couldn’t just let him mess with you like that, not my girl.”

My girl. My girl. My girl. The phrase went off in your head like a bell. You didn’t know if he’d said it just because he was high or if he actually meant it like that. You wet your lips with your tongue, glancing at him for a moment.

“Well, thanks,” you breathed, twirling your fingers in a loose thread on one of the weaved blankets he kept in the back of the van. You had wrapped yourself in it on multiple occasions, mostly on cold nights when you were ungodly high. But tonight, alcohol thrummed through you like liquid fire.

Eddie finished the remainder of the joint on his own, his warm brown eyes tinged with pink as his smile stretched easier. There was a fluidity to him when he was stoned, his normally theatrical mannerisms mellowing out to something that seemed less like a performance and more genuine. His movements became more languid, his lanky form sprawling out on a half-deflated bean bag. His calf rested on top of your leg.

The cassette that was playing ended, the power chords fading into silence as you heard the player whir to a stop. The water lapping at the cliff face below and the breeze rustling the foliage outside the van seemed louder, indicative of the transition from fall to winter that was soon to come.

“You want to pick the next one?” Eddie asked, his voice soft and breathy like it always got when he was stoned. It was sweet of him to ask, considering you knew that he already had a playlist of what he wanted to put on next written out in his head. He was particular about music, always wanting to be in-control of what was playing no matter where you were.

You knew he meant for you to pick from his cassette collection.

“Yeah,” you answered, a smirk starting to spread on your face. You stood up, your feet digging into the shag carpet as you crouched to avoid hitting your head. “I’ve got a Madonna tape in my purse that I’ve been wanting to listen to.”

“Madonna?” You could hear the anguish in his voice as you stepped over his long legs to reach the front. There was an air of disbelief at your choice, Eddie couldn’t stand Madonna.

You laughed, nodding as you pulled the aforementioned tape from your bag and flashing it to Eddie. “You said I could pick,” you teased, hunkering down in front of the radio to exchange the cassettes. Stunned silence filled the space behind you as you waited for the Dio tape to be spit out, you tapped the Madonna cassette against your kneecap.

What at first was silence burst into a flurry of motion behind you.

Before you could react, Eddie’s hands locked around your waist from behind and elicited a squeal from your throat as he yanked you back. “I’m not listening to Madonna,” he said, twisting his body around yours to try to snatch the tape from your hand.

You scrambled, holding the cassette out of his reach and angling your shoulders to keep him away. “Eddie! You said I could pick!” you exclaimed with a peal of laughter, feeling the length of his body pressed against the back of yours. He pulled you close with a forearm curled around your waist, reaching over your shoulder.

“Yeah, you can pick from good music!” His chin bumped the top of your head as you both fell forward from losing your balance. The floor absorbed most of the impact, Eddie’s shoulder banging into the floorboards next to you. You let out a soft grunt as Eddie landed partially on top of you, pressing you into the carpet.

“This is good music,” you insisted, digging your elbow and knees into the thick carpet so you could shimmy forward. Eddie slammed an elbow in front of your shoulder, stopping any forward movement. There was no time to redirect as he melded you into his shadows, lanky limbs moving over where you were prone. His other hand curled around your wrist, so close to taking the tape. “You’re just judgmental!”

In a last ditch effort you twisted your arm from his grip, pulling your hand under your body and pressing the tape between your stomach and the rustled blanket. “You’re not being fair!” You were still giggling, Eddie stuffed his fingers between your forearm and your stomach in an attempt to follow the path of your arm.

“It’s my van, princess,” Eddie said with a breathy laugh of his own. He lifted himself off you, letting you breathe for a moment before his hands scooped beneath your shoulders and flipped you onto your back. “I can judge however I want to.”

You tried to push him away with your feet, matching smiles on your faces as he reached for you around the assault. With a shove your legs were out of the way, his torso settling between them with your knees on either side of his ribs. He leaned over you, managing to pry the tape from your hands and slide it into the pocket of his leather jacket.

You still had some fight in you, reaching for Eddie’s pocket before he grabbed your wrists and pressed them to the floor. “Eddie!” you whined, squirming in an attempt to throw him off.

He was smiling above you with all his teeth, the two of you panting as you stared at one another. The distance between you decreased, long fingers threading through yours as his head dipped lower. You were so close that you could practically count his eyelashes. Eddie scraped his teeth over his lower lip, a clear sign that he was about to ask you something. You nodded before he could, your heart pounding in your chest as you prayed that you weren’t reading into things.

When he pressed his lips against yours you knew you guessed right.

You sighed into it, your eyes fluttering closed as your mouth moulded to his. Butterflies had made a home in your stomach, part of you wondering when you started having feelings for Eddie. Why did it take you so long to do something about them?

His mouth was so soft, slotting against yours in clumsy open-mouthed kisses. You both were smiling, giggling nervously when your teeth clashed or noses bumped. It was as though you both were clumsy and new to this, the anxiety of wanting to impress making you forget how to relax for a moment. His hair tickled your cheeks and neck, curling wildly in every direction. You desperately wanted to thread your fingers into it, your hands flexing against his.

A strong gust of wind blew dried leaves into the open door of the van, the chill cutting through your clothes making the two of you pull away from one another with laughs. Eddie tugged the door closed in a quick motion, leaning back on a bean bag and patting the side of his thigh in a motion to come over there.

The moonlight was diffused through the windows on the sliding side doors, illuminating Eddie in a beautiful silver as you practically crawled on your hands and knees to him. You were a bit off-balance, partially falling against his chest. He chuckled, curling an arm around your back and pulling you closer with a wide hand pressed against the curve of your spine.

“Been waiting to kiss you like this for months,” Eddie murmured, his calloused fingers tracing along your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your hands resting on the soft Corroded Coffin shirt he wore.

“Yeah?” you asked, your eyes wide as you looked at him. Part of you didn’t want to believe him, you’d thought his taste in women leaned on either far-end of the Morticia Addams to Chrissy Cunningham spectrum. Maybe you were wrong, or at least you prayed that you were. When considering the Eddie Spectrum of eligible women, you were situated somewhere near the middle.

He nodded, stamping a quick kiss to your lips. “Of course, princess,” he said, his other hand coming to rest on the curve of your thigh. Goosebumps pricked along your skin, his fingertips tracing up and down the bare section of your leg between the skirt and high socks. “And you make a very cute, Velma.”

You rolled your eyes at the compliment, shrugging it off. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, eyes cast down at the blood soaked into the collar of his shirt. Shyness consumed you, it had been a while since a guy had flirted with you like this.

Well, Eddie’s fingers drawing figure-eights on the outside of your thigh felt like a little more than flirting.

One of his eyebrows lifted, disappearing beneath his bangs as he looked at you. “I do mean it.” Before you could argue with him, he pulled you into another kiss.

It was enough to take your mind off of it, your head tilting up toward his as you twisted your body closer to him. Your hips turned, the handcuffs serving as his belt buckle digging into you through the thick fabric of your skirt. Thick thighs split apart over his knee, your spine curving on instinct.

Normally, you wouldn’t have considered the back of Eddie’s van to be romantic, but now there was nowhere else you would rather be.

Unable to think of much else, the kisses became messier. The sloppy smacks of your mouth against his made you giddy, fingers curling over his shoulders and keeping him close. His hand slipped under your sweater, palm pressing into your ribs like a brand. A submissive whimper was pulled from your throat, a dizzy feeling filling your head. You didn’t know if it was from the lack of oxygen or the alcohol you’d drank earlier.

Heat was pooling between your legs, making your thighs momentarily squeeze against his. The feeling of Eddie touching you made your insecurities about how your body had changed melt away, he didn’t seem to mind the softer parts of you as much as you did. Your hands traveled to his belt and traced the silver buckle of it, making Eddie pull away with a shake of his head. “Not tonight, baby,” he murmured, a sheepish smile curling his pink lips.

Despite the small part of your mind that was still rational, it felt like a slap to the face. You stiffened in his hold as you yanked your hands back like you’d touched a hot stove. “Oh, uh, sorry. I misunderstood,” you murmured, trying to tamp down the sting of rejection. You didn’t want him to feel bad, there wasn’t anything to feel guilty for.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head again. “Trust me, I want to,” he breathed, gently cupping your cheek. Something burned in his gaze. His thumb pressed into the corner of your spit-slicked lips, his chocolate brown eyes lingering for a moment. “Just don’t want to when you’re drunk, not in the back of my van.”

There was a sincerity in his tone that made you melt, rejection fading into yet another reason you felt like you were starting to fall head over heels for Eddie. “Okay, you’re right,” you said sweetly, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb.

“You want me to pick another tape?” The silence that had fallen over the van became noticeable.

He laughed, seemingly having forgotten what had gotten the two of you tangled together in the first place. “No Madonna in the van, those are the rules,” he said, his fingers caressing your jaw. “Even for pretty girls like you.”

“Oh shut up,” you sighed, your face heating up despite yourself. “You’re just trying to butter me up so I pick Metallica.”

Eddie snorted, the width of his shoulders squaring with confidence as he kept you in the space between his arm and torso. You could feel how warm he was. “You really think so?” he asked, the soft lilt of a tease in his voice.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” It still felt like there was lightning between your ribs, electricity pooling at every juncture where you and Eddie touched.

“But, I was teasing you. It’s a Van Halen cassette… you would know that if you’d bothered to read it before you decided to wrestle me for it.” You stamped another kiss against the tip of his nose. He wrinkled it endearingly, making you smile.

“Well now I’m glad I didn’t.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #reader insert #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #joseph quinn #eddie is a soft boy

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solarmorrigan · 3 months

Text

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The days pass like cold mud – slow, uncomfortable, and relentless.

But they do pass.

Eddie had said he could give Steve the time he needed, and he’d meant it; he would wait out the two weeks and be there on the other side to talk to him. To hope for a second chance.

They see each other here and there, mostly in passing: Steve comes to pick a few of the kids up from a gaming session; Eddie stops in at Family Video with Jeff, Gareth, and Oliver to grab a movie (where Jeff and Steve exchange a surprisingly friendly greeting); they occupy separate sides of the room at a group dinner.

Each time, Eddie is sure to at least acknowledge and wave at Steve, in spite of any protective hovering and scowling Robin might be doing if she happens to be present. Steve gives cautious nods in return at first, but as they near the deadline, he’s returning Eddie’s distant greetings with a hesitant smile and that ridiculous little finger-wiggle wave that Eddie had been reluctantly charmed by in the beginning.

And in the meantime, Eddie plots.

He is not, by nature, an optimist (strangely, between the two of them, that’s Steve’s area), but in this instance, he plans for the best: the idea that Steve will say yes and let Eddie take him on a proper date. And as improvisational as Eddie likes to be, he’s also a veteran dungeon master and plotter of all sorts of campaigns; if you want long-term plans to go off without a hitch, it pays to be prepared.

So, he plots.

He brainstorms and makes lists of all of Steve’s favorite things and schemes out elaborate romantic gestures and draws on all the knowledge he’s retained from the romcoms he’d whined about having to watch with Steve but had always given in over when Steve gave him that puppy-eyed look that Eddie has no defense against.

(And somehow, he’d continued to think they were just friends. His lack of awareness should be studied as a scientific anomaly.)

He thinks Steve would be proud of his accumulated work (and Eddie himself isn’t ashamed of it, but all the same, he makes sure to hide the notebook where none of the guys will ever, ever stumble across it, because they would never, ever let Eddie live it down).

In any case, the ticking down of two weeks finally comes to an end, and Eddie stands in front of the phone earlier than he’d normally care to be awake, hoping that his work will pay off.

Steve picks up before the fourth ring, just like he always does, and answers the phone like a dork, just like he always does.

“Harrington residence, Steve speaking.”

This is where Eddie normally makes a joke – says he’d been trying for the funeral home and asks if Steve happens to have a shovel and some time on his hands; says he thought he’d had the number for the Hawkins Gentleman’s Club and asks if Steve is much of a dancer; once, he’d even affected a terrible New York accent and spun some lines about how he’d been trying to call a speakeasy. He can always hear the laughter caught behind Steve’s dry responses to his nonsense, and he always loves it.

But now is not “normally,” and Eddie only just manages to sound like himself as he replies, “Steve. Just the Harrington I was hoping would speak.”

“Eddie,” is all Steve says for a moment; he sounds almost surprised, but not displeased. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Eddie says back. “So, I know punctuality has never been my strong suit, but it’s, uh. It’s been two weeks. Pretty much on the dot. And you said I should come talk to you again, so…”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, no, did you – You can come over. If you want to talk, still,” Steve says – stammers, really, like he’s been caught off-guard, like he really hadn’t been expecting Eddie to call.

“Well, if I didn’t change my mind in two weeks, I’m not gonna change my mind in the fifteen minutes it takes to get to your house,” Eddie says.

“Sure,” Steve says, a little steadier now. “Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”

“You definitely will,” Eddie assures him. “See you in a bit, Steve.”

“Yeah. Yes. Bye, Eddie.”

It’s awkward, but – it’s something.

The only reason Eddie doesn’t break an egregious number of traffic laws on his way to Steve’s house is because he simply couldn’t bear the irony of getting arrested now, of all times. With his luck, he’d get sent up the river and Steve would be left waiting and waiting at his house before coming to the conclusion that Eddie had never really cared about him after all, only to be found surprised and jaded several years later when Eddie is finally released from prison and makes his first stop the Harrington house and – Christ, Eddie’s had romance on the brain too long. He’s going to have to binge reread Lord of the Rings or something to get his head back on straight.

He pulls his head out of the clouds and his van into the Harrington’s ridiculously massive driveway and heads up to the door with a vibrating surplus of energy sustained entirely by nerves and determination.

It seems like he’s not the only one running on anxiety power, though, based on how quickly the door opens after Eddie rings the bell.

It’s the first time Eddie’s really seen Steve up close since the trailer two weeks ago. He looks– better. He’s still tired, Eddie can tell; he’s got that slightly droopy look around his eyes and an almost painful set to his jaw that’s nearly impossible to spot if you don’t know what to look for – and most people don’t (but Eddie’s spent a lot of time learning Steve, even if he hadn’t picked up all the right tells). But he still looks better, and Eddie finds himself relieved.

“Hey, there,” he says, giving Steve a nod. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood, y’know. Thought I’d drop by.”

Steve shakes his head, a tiny smile quirking up at one corner of his mouth. “Come in, jackass.”

“Fine way to treat your guests,” Eddie drawls in return, gratified when Steve’s smile grows just a tiny bit more.

He takes off his shoes at the entryway (Steve hardly ever asks anyone to take off their shoes, because worrying about the state of your floors isn’t cool, but it bothers him all the same, and so Eddie takes them off) and follows Steve through to the living room, where they both perch awkwardly on the couch and sit in an equally awkward silence for about thirty seconds.

“So… you said I should come talk to you,” Eddie says finally.

“I did, yeah.” Steve nods.

“You said to tell you if this was still something I wanted,” Eddie goes on.

“I did, yeah,” Steve says again. “And… you’re here.”

“I told you I wouldn’t change my mind, Steve.” Eddie’s hand twitches, almost instinctively reaching out for a spot on Steve’s knee, or around his wrist, or threaded through his fingers, but he doesn’t think he can take Steve freezing up or pulling away again. “This – you, us – I still want it. I want to do it right. If you’ll give me the chance, I want to treat you how you should be treated.”

Steve nods. “Okay.”

Eddie blinks. “Okay? As in – just, yeah, okay?” He knows he’s not making much sense, but he’d been sort of prepared to have to make his case – to extol the virtues of the perfect dates he had planned, to sing the praises of all the things he knows now that he should appreciate about Steve, to lament the loss of trust and ease between them, but instead Steve is just sitting there, watching him with a funny sort of smile on his face.

“I was… I was never going to say no, Eddie.” Steve shrugs. “I just really needed you to think about it. To make sure this—a real relationship with… with me—is really what you wanted. Because if it’s not, if you took it back again, I don’t think I’d– I just really needed you to be sure.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, low and serious, “I have never been more sure of anything in my life. A real relationship with you is exactly what I want.”

Steve’s smile twitches, changes into something a little more familiar, a little warmer. “Okay.”

“You’re never gonna regret it, sweetheart,” Eddie says, can’t help bouncing a little in his seat as his nerves turn to excitement, to elation. “I have the corniest, most romantic dates planned, I swear, I’m going to knock your socks off. We’ll unlock your inner Molly Ringwald.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve shakes his head at Eddie. “You really don’t have to do all that. I’m not– putting you through a trial, or whatever, we can just go back to what we were doing, right? Just with… I dunno, more awareness.”

“Noooo, no.” Eddie shakes his head right back. “You said you didn’t want to pretend nothing ever happened, and you shouldn’t have to. I want to do this, Steve. Let me take you on a real date.”

Something unreadable flashes across Steve’s face, and suddenly his smile is wrong again. Sort of plastic – like he’s trying, but it’s not quite reaching his eyes. But before Eddie can ask what’s wrong, Steve is shrugging.

“If you insist…”

“I most certainly do,” Eddie says firmly. “I’m gonna romance the shit out of you.”

At that, Steve releases a helpless snort of laughter, and the plastic smile is gone, blown away by a real one.

“You’re making a super good argument for it,” Steve says, and Eddie grins.

“Aren’t I?” He bats his eyelashes. “So tell me: you free on Friday night?”

“I’m working, actually. Someone has to dole out dumb romances to other people out on dates,” Steve says drily, as if he himself hasn’t seen most of the films he’s maligning.

Eddie hums. “Saturday?”

“I could probably get someone to cover my shift,” Steve hedges, teasing and flirty and everything Eddie’s missed in the last few weeks.

“So you’ll be free?” Eddie asks.

“As a bird – as long as that bird isn’t a robin, considering who’s going to have to cover for me,” Steve says, and Eddie pulls a grimace.

“Yeah, maybe don’t tell her why you need the shift covered. I get the feeling she wouldn’t be as agreeable if she knew I was involved,” he says.

“I don’t think Robin’s ever been agreeable in her life, and she’d probably resent the accusation.” Steve smirks. “But as long as she doesn’t think I’m sneaking away to see you, and if I take the Monday morning shift she really hates, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Let’s plan for Saturday?”

“Saturday it is!” Eddie pops up off the couch, both unwilling to sour the mood by overstaying his welcome, and suddenly overflowing with the need to set preparations in motion. “Six o’clock, sharp! I’ll pick you up.”

“Do I get to know where we’re going?” Steve asks, one eyebrow cocked.

“Absolutely not. The surprise is part of the experience,” Eddie says.

“Dress code, at least?” Steve wheedles, and Eddie supposes that’s fair.

“Casual. And bring a jacket,” Eddie says.

Both of Steve’s brows go up now, as he rises from the couch to follow Eddie back out towards the door. “Telling someone to bring outerwear to a date is usually a red flag, man,” he says, watching as Eddie shoves his shoes back on.

“But you love being outside,” Eddie counters, glancing up at Steve with a grin.

“I,” Steve pauses, blinking at him. “I guess.”

“And no more hints,” Eddie says, rising from the floor and reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you on Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice warming around a small, pleased smile, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Can’t wait.” Eddie throws one last grin at him before stepping out into the brisk, late fall air.

He doesn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Part 7

Tag List (Drop me a line if you'd like off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

The tag list is full at this time, but I'll be posting this fic to Ao3 soon, so hopefully people can subscribe there if they want update alerts?

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #things are going to start picking up soon 👀#solar wrote

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limeade-l3sbian · 2 months

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Who was Kagney Linn Necessary?

(the gofundme for her memorial/funeral will be at the end.)

Kagney Linn Necessary was born in Harris County, Texas in 1987, and raised in St. Joseph, Missouri and in Ridgway, Pennsylvania. [x]

In her early years, she moved to California with ambitions of becoming an actress and a singer but entered work as an exotic dancer before signing with LA Direct Models, a pornographic agency. Karter entered the adult film industry in September 2008.[x]

But that wasn't the entirety of who Kagney was. At face value, the only information I could find with a quick search was the basic information above from Wikipedia. All anyone seemed to know about her was who she was when she was in the "industry." I wanted to see what I could find about her, the person. Not Kagney Linn Karter, but Kagney Linn Necessary.

I raked through interviews she had, her personal social media accounts, and any other articles that I could find just to find any little facts about her that I could.

I thought about omitting her time within the porn industry to focus solely on everything else except that. But I feel it would be tasteless to keep it out. I think it needs to be mentioned. I think it is important to show that women pulled into the porn industry are not these separate beings from any other woman with dreams. This was a 36 year old woman who was just like any other woman who was preyed upon.

Necessary released an EP, The Crossover, in 2018. In 2022, Karter released her debut album, titled The Take Over. [x] She would post clips of her singing covers of songs as well as songs from her upcoming EP on her Instagram.

In 2022, she began learning how to play the piano, even posting a video of her progress.

Necessary was also a recovering addict. In 2021, she posted about the things that helped her stay clean and how she was pleased at having a second chance at life. In an interview, she was intentionally vague about the substances she used, only referring to them as "candy" and "a little bit of everything." But with no insurance or money for rehab, she opted to detox herself at her parents home, working at their tanning salon for free in exchange for "produce."

She moved from Los Angeles to Ohio in 2019 and got involved with pole dancing fitness studios before being involved the opening of one in Akron, called Alchemy Pole Fitness. She posted many videos of herself having fun and practicing new/old moves.

In November 2023, she was posting pictures of her new house and how well it was coming together,

[their website leads to a website called Alchemy Space Studios and says that it was founded and run by a separate woman. But upon looking up the LLC for the business, Kagney is named as the registrant and she is named as the owner of the space in two separate articles.]

In 2015, Carter claimed musician Chris Brown paid her $2,500 to be his escort. She reportedly tweeted things like 'I WILL NEVER F*** A WOMAN BEATER EW DISGUSTING' and 'HE IS PURE EVIL' about Brown.

I just felt like adding that because what a queen.

From her students from the studio and friends, she was known to love animals, including her dog, Murphy, and had a deep devotion to the community she was cultivating in Ohio. She was known to be fearless and empathetic, creating her studio as a place for people to feel safe and accepted.

These were the things I could find of her from her personal accounts and the people who loved her. She wasn't an object that will be missed for what "uses" it had. She was a woman who had dreams, who had a community who love her, who had a husband who loves her, dogs she cared for and loved who loved her, and a mother who loves her. I didn't want her story to be another reblog of a lost life.

I know this post is sporadic and clunky, but I wanted to just grab any information I could without crossing boundaries (ex. contacting the family or something tasteless like that). I just wanted to share what she had already shared with the world.

Her friend, Megan Lee, has posted a gofundme that has already surpassed their goal. But I would still suggest donating if you are able. Rest in peace, Kagney Linn Necessary. 💜

#worked on this all morning trying to find sources #got emotional #gonna take it easy for the rest of the day #rest in peace

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taylorswiftstyle · 4 days

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"Fortnight" music video | April 19, 2024

Unttld 'Victor Ruffle Waxed Denim Jacket' - no longer available

There's so much to dissect in Tortured Poets and beyond into the new visuals for the "Fortnight" music video. Those thoughts, of course, to come. But off the top it feels apt to note the striking modernization of Victorian fashion on display with this piece, particularly of poet Emily Dickinson (Taylor's distant cousin - genealogy is wild). While Dickinson herself wore a lot of white (which as we've seen is TTPD's assigned eras colour), there's something to be said here about the similarity it strikes with the custom Teuta Matoshi dresses her backup dancers wear during "my tears ricochet" on the Eras Tour as they march behind her in a funeral procession. Equally, it calls to mind the somber wear of Victorian mourning clothes - widows would often wear black for two years.

This particular piece comes from Unttld's Fall 2021 collection, noted by the designer as a fulfillment of "19th century fantasy".

#taylor swift #music video #outerwear #unttld #april 2024 #fortnight

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matan4il · 1 month

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Ahead of Eurovision 2024

I was listening to Eden Golan's song, Hurricane.

youtube

At first, it didn't seem to me like it stands out. I'm one of the people who prefers my Eurovision song less on the power ballad side of things, so this being in that genre...

But then I found myself haunted by the lyrics. By specific lines. Singing them to myself quietly, over and over again. I had to listen to the song again.

And it got to me, it really did, I haven't stopped listening to or singing it since, so I guess I needed to share a bit.

There's more than one hint that this is a song about mourning and survival. Lines like, "someone stole the moon tonight, took my light" can be interpreted in more than one way. But they become less ambiguous when combined with ones like, "holding on in this mysterious ride," when the mysterious ride we're all on is life itself. It makes it clearer that this isn't just a break up song. Then it becomes even more explicit with, "we shall pass, but love will never die."

The imagery in the videoclip is also telling, that ending when Eden is looking up, much like many do when talking to or thinking about a loved one that we have lost.

But the line that gets to me the most, the first one that took over my brain? "I'm still broken from this hurricane."

We all get what this song is about, in the wake of what happened here in October 2023, and since. And I am broken. So many Jews and Israelis are. As one survivor said (his words have haunted me first, then I heard them echoed in this song): "We are broken, but strong." That's exactly what the song is about, deeply feeling the pain and the tragedy, the loss, this impossible to accept grief, and still trying to find a way to live with it, to survive not just the horrors of a massacre, but the trauma that follows it as well.

The other line that affects me the most is directly related to this, "baby, promise me you'll hold me again." Because I have spent the last 5 months watching the news, seeing the funerals, and hearing people breaking down, as they say a variation of this to their loved ones, who are gone. Asking for a promise that can't be made, or fulfilled, and knowing that it can't, even as the request is being uttered. I hear their voices breaking around their words, whenever I listen to or sing this line.

The videoclip is also infused with imagery that's related to the massacre of over 360 people at the Nova music festival (and the kidnapping of 40 more from that scene), which is in a way very apt for music lovers. The images show dancers in what looks a lot like a nature party, just like Nova, and since the massacre happened when the music festival was meant to reach its peak, a long night of music and dancing climaxing around sunrise, that's exactly what we see, a move from the "moon light" throughout most of the videoclip, to the "sunrise" at the end.

But in the case of this "sunrise," Eden can smile, she can find comfort, she can sing a few words in Hebrew that reflect hope, about that little light that's left even when the moon's been stolen.

She's bringing the song to a beautiful, emotional closure.

Obviously, it can't be ignored that this is a re-write. The original song (which was called October Rain) was disqualified as "political."

You can read the original lyrics here. They're almost identical. I heard an interview with the song writers, who said they weren't even told what got their song disqualified, so they had to guess what the Eurovision Broadcasting Union had in mind, when they called an expression of our pain, and our strength at the face of that, "political."

I admit, I find it very hard to accept this disqualification. It's not like there isn't precendent for countries at the Eurovision expressing pain (including the kind originating from political circumstances) through their songs.

If you take the wildly popular Ukraine 2007 entry, the singer was quite obviously singing "Russia goodbye," with allusions to Russian interference in Ukrainian elections while wearing outfits reminiscent of Soviet uniforms. And that wasn't called political, because "Russia goodbye" was changed into gibberish that still sounds like it (and in recent performances, it was blatantly sang like that).

If you take the much talked about Croatia 2023 entry, it was about the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and also criticized Belarus' tyrant kissing Russia's tyrant's ass, by referencing the tractor that Lukashenko bought for Putin, while the band members played with military weapons and uniforms on stage. And that wasn't disqualified for being political.

If you take the Ukraine 2016 entry, that was explicitly singing about their pain over what the Russians did to the Tatar population in Crimea in 1944, with clear allusions to what Russians did when they invaded Ukraine's Crimean peninsula in 2014. And that wasn't called "political" either.

Even this year, we have the entry from The Netherlands being political, with both the lyrics and videoclip referencing the borderless Europe (which IS a political issue, as Brexit, if nothing else, had made clear). I've seen people pointing out online that the song isn't political, because the whole borderless Europe thing is a metaphor for the singer's grief for his father/parents. I have no problem with that reading, but let's acknowledge that there could have been many metaphors for that, and he chose a political one.

So why is Jewish pain treated differently? Why is our pain labeled "political," when the metaphors for it in the songs aren't that, there are no specific political mentions of people or organizations in the song (unlike the Georgia 2009 entry, which slipped Putin's name into the song's title) in either version, when there are no political statements being made in the song, there's just expressing our pain, and trying to find a way to cope with it?

This WAS the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, and expecting Jews not to write about it, not to sing about it, not to try to process it through art... Our pain is not political. It's human. When Ukraine won in 2022 with a song that wasn't originally political, but became one, as it was adopted by Ukrainians suffering from a war that they did not choose, but had to fight, singing it wherever they were displaced (I remember the winners, Kalush Orchestra, coming to Israel to sing it for and with Ukrainian refugees who found shelter here), I thought it was quite obvious, even for people who don't like politics at Eurovision, why the song won, and why everyone overlooked the fact that it was only partly based on its qualities as a Eurovision song. I don't expect Israel to win, I very much expect that, even as Israelis embrace this song about our pain during a war, that we didn't choose, but have to fight, and while hundreds of thousands of us are still displaced, we will get a lot of hatred, instead of understanding and sympathy. But I still have to speak up. I still have to point out that treating Israeli or Jewish pain differently is wrong.

(as a footnote, I wanna get ahead of the usual, "Why is Israel allowed to participate in Eurovision to begin with? It's not in Europe!" comments, while I haven't come across the same ritual for certain other Eurovision participants, like North African Morocco, just-as-Asian-as-Israel Lebanon, transcontinental {despite some of these countries only being considered European culturally, while geographically speaking, they're fully Asian} Georgia, Russia, Cyprus, Turkey, Azerbaijan and Armenia, and the one that's a continent all on its own, Australia. They all have the right to participate, because they all belong to the European Broadcasting Union. Just like Israel)

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love-lilly02 · 18 days

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The Challenge— Chapter 9

When you died, you were going to have an all white funeral.

It was something that had been decided by your entire family, not even by your agreement but by tradition. According to them, a funeral was a celebration, not an occasion to be sad.

When you joined the 141, they were required to ask how you wanted preparations to be set up, if there were any “special requests.”

Your mom answered that one for you.

Never in his life did Gaz actually assume he would show up to a funeral in white.

He almost thought he would have to do it.

“This is bull shit!”

Soap’s yell snaps Gaz out of his thoughts, and he looks back at where the man is sitting on the edge of his seat yelling at the others in the room. Specifically you, who’s sitting there half in tears. If your laughing or crying is still completely unknown to him. “That clue is bull shit and you know it.”

“I’m literally HANDING you the answer!!” You yell back at him, almost choking over both your words and laughter at the same time.

“NO. YOU ARENT. THAT ANSWER IS SO SHITTY A TOILET WOUKDNT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT!!!” Soap hollers back, and the rookies explode with laughter.

“ITS A FUCKING MOVE THEY DO!”

“I don’t know what the fuck a pas de deux is but it does NOT. EXIST.”

“Bitch i was one of these hoes for twelve years, I WOUKD KNOW”

And so it continues. It had started out with a simple game between the four of you, well, three considering Si opted out, but it quickly turned into a good natured screaming match over the game. Headbands always turned out like this though, at least whenever Soap played.

“Thirty seconds, suds.” Price grumbled from the couch, and you snapped your fingers quickly, trying to think of something to give him a hint.

“Fuck uhhh, okay The Nutcracker?”

“Actor?”

“No, no but you’re close. They move around a lot more?”

“A soldier.”

“No, damnit. Like, like— fuck, fuck!! Okay pink fluffy skirts-“

“DANCER!”

“Yes!!” You scream, and you both jump for joy. Everyone in the room cheers, and Gaz even notices Ghost crack a smile under his mask.

“Fuckin ‘Pas de Deux’ what kind of a clue is that” Soap grunts, knocking back another drink. You just roll your eyes, sighing loudly.

“It’s literally a dance move everyone knows. I could have said pirouette and you still wouldn’t catch on, I don’t see a difference.” The silent insult makes him chuckle, and Gaz’s smile widens.

“Lay offit ay? Not my fault nobody knows dance terms.”

“I actually knew that.” Gaz pipes up, and Ghost nods in agreement. “It is a pretty common dance move.”

You throw your hands in the air as if to say see fucker, I was right.

Soap just rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t know you danced,” Gaz said, lifting his drink to his lips. He tries to ignore the way your eyes follow the movement, or how it takes you a few seconds longer than usual to respond.

“Mhm. Did it with my sister for a while. Wasn’t very good, unfortunately.” Gaz nods, humming.

“When’d you quit?” He asks, pretending to swirl his drink around in the glass.

You eye him suspiciously, trying to blink through the haze the alcohol has made in your mind. “Few years back, round the same time I enlisted.”

Gaz nodded. It felt wrong, using you for information like this. But this had become more than just some challenge for him, it was genuine curiosity. Like there was a constant itch in the back of his mind that he couldn’t get to die down unless he got some answers.

Usually, Ghost was the tech person. He would be the one to hack cameras, snoop on people, be the physical stalker. The problem they all ran into, though, is that a lot of your life was online. You were the youngest of them all, younger than Gaz even, and while they gave you shit for it, it meant you were way more online than they were.

Because of that, they couldn’t rely on just your files to tell them everything. There was a world hidden somewhere in all your deleted accounts, messages encoded in emails and photos from after your graduation. Piecing them together was too big of a job for one man alone, especially men of their age.

So they didn’t do it alone.

It took your near death experience to make grown ass men to realize how fucking stupid they were being about this. Simon said it himself, the 141 didn’t operate by itself. It was a team. They were a team. They did things together, which meant they would get their answers together. It also meant they would get to share you at the same time, but that wasn’t a foreign concept to them.

And none of them really had an issue sharing with each other.

That night, after everyone else had turned in , Gaz got to work. He used the best lead of you he had (your beginning of the year photo for Junior year, taken just before everything disappeared) and worked his way down. He flew through all of your files, finding names, dates and addresses. Long ago he figured out that numbers were the most important thing in a task like this. Without them you could get nowhere. He followed paths he had taken dozens of times, different directions to get to the same conclusion. There wasn’t anything there. Just like you predicted, it all stopped at your junior year.

This time, though, that wasn’t what he was looking for.

Once he hit that wall again, He went back and retraced his steps. He included references to clubs in his search, finding every extra circular at your school and looking into their history. Nothing came up for a long, long time.

It was nearly sunrise before he found something. Normal people would have seen this and not batted an eye, but Gaz was too keen in his research to miss it.

In an article about your schools dance team, just a few months before graduation two names glared out on the screen at him. Your name, and someone else’s who rhymed quite well with yours. The gears spun in his head, and he laughed to himself in pure shock.

They were on a a wild goose chase for the wrong person.

It explained why he was physically unable to find anything on you, because he wasn’t even looking for you in the first damn place. He was tracking down your sister.

He took the two names and pasted them into his system, hitting enter on the keyboard.

Over three hundred search results came up, but only one caught his eye.

“Local College student gets killed in school shooting, family is left devastated.”

He might have to do a bit more digging than he thought.

Finding the photos was the easy part. Now that he knew who you were, they were everywhere. You really had gotten up to a lot behind their backs, you had at least tried out every club once and volunteered everywhere in your damn state. It was impressive that you managed to switch personalities so quickly, going from someone so loud and outgoing to… well, you. He knew hiding this much information wasn’t easy, having to go under an alias a few times to escape capture taught him that the hard way. But you did it with ease, as if you…

Oh.

He had to tell Price.

AN: if you can spot the audio reference and tell me which audio it comes from, who made it and give me a time stamp i’ll post the next chapter early (as in; as soon as i see the ask/comment)

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader

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pleasantlyinsincere · 4 months

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BRAVO September 1967 Shortly before his death Brian Epstein admitted to BRAVO-employee Thomas Beyl: The boys are everything to me

His face was white. His grey suit seemed to be too big. His shirt collar was opened widely, the black tie hanging crookedly of his neck. Brian Epstein had met death. He came from his father's funeral. That hot July day I met Brian Epstein for the last time. Six weeks later he was dead. As I was taking the list up to Brian's private office, I was desperately thinking about what to say to him. I knew Brian had been very attached to his father. I knew this loss must have rattled him deeply. There rarely had been a conversation with him, where he didn't mention his 'Daddy'. I didn't feel comfortable in my skin. Even though Brian had promised me once: "Whenever you come to London, come and see me. I'll always have time for you." It had always been like that. But now?

[...] Brian met me at the door. "Hello, Thomas! Do you want something to drink?" That afternoon I met a completely different Brian Epstein. I was startled when I saw him. He seemed broken and like he had aged years. He stood up from his office chair laboriously. He reached his hand out towards me. It was limp, his handshake without strength. "nice to see you, Thomas", he said. "Have you seen the boys? Have they come back relaxed from Greece?" He tried to act as natural and friendly as usual but he was a bad actor. Brian was quiet for a while, then he said: "I know why you came. Nice of you. But let's not talk about it. Please." On Brian's desk stood bottle of whiskey, next to it a glass. It was empty. Absent-mindedly he puffed on his cigarette and regularly his gaze would drift towards a big painting of his father on the wall. I felt out of place and was about to say goodbye when Brian said: "Stay for another moment. I want to tell you about a dream that finally seems to be about to come true. I'm planning a movie with the bullfighter El Cordobes, the dancer Nurejew and the boys. Cardobes and Nurejew have already accepted. I just have to convince the boys of my plan." The big dream was buried with Brian Epstein on 30 August 1967 on the jewish graveyard of Fazackerley, a suburb of Liverpool. Like so many great dreams of Brian Epstein, who had wanted to become an actor - and never became one; who wanted to write plays - and never wrote one; who bought a theater - and never staged one; who loved Mozart and Beethoven - and became manager of a beat group; who looked like a successful stock broker - and was at home on the stage of the pop world.

It was 26 June 1966. BRAVO-Beatles-Blitztournee. 7000 fans are screaming their throats hoarse inside Hamburg's Ernst-Merck-Halle. They are waiting for 'their' Beatles, who had come back to the place their careers had started after four years. It's just minutes before the 'returnees'' concert. A security guard addresses me: "Are you Thomas Beryl? You have to please come outside. There is a young guy in front of the main door, who has been trying to come in for half an hour even though he has no ticket. He claims he is the Beatles famous manager Brian Epstein. He thinks we're stupid." I rip the dressing room door open, calling to the Beatles: "Wait a moment. They aren't letting Brian in." The Beatles double over with laughter. "Once again", chuckles Ringo. John shouts after me: "Tell him he should get a belly befitting of his status, so that people recognize him as a manager!" The 'young guy' was indeed Brian Epstein. During the concert he said to me: "Look at the boys. I have never seen them this happy on stage. It has to be an amazing feeling to return to where you once have started small. That's when you really realize that you've made it. Frankly - I am a bit jealous because I wasn't with the Beatles during their first Hamburg stays." He watched his boys beaming faces - and beamed along with them.

No, Brian Epstein wasn't a typical manager. He preferred to wear suits in muted colors and subtle ties. His luxurious London apartment proved his exquisite taste. Brian loved antiques and chose with great care and knowledge. His appearance was quiet. For a manager he was modest and shy. Brian kept in the background so much, that sometimes the Beatles didn't even realize when he was missing. But still Eppy - as the boys called him - belonged to them as five fingers do on a hand. And Eppy was the thumb. Brian didn't like to hear such words. "No, no", he denied. "I am not the fifth Beatles but the Beatles' number one fan." Similarly he fended off the claim that the Beatles had him to thank for fairy tale career. "The boys would have made it without me", he told me. "At least I have just as much to thank them for as they do me. I'm known as a successful manager and have a big enterprise. But I was only able to do that because four electric boys became my friends."

The boys have a different opinion. John: "Without Brian we would have gotten out of our greasy leather jackets too late and the Queen would have never invited us to her palace. No one but Eppy was ready to help guys like us financially. Without him we would have been stuck in basement pubs. When he proposed to become our manager, we thought he had a screw loose. That's how little we believed in ourselves." George: "It was our luck that the Epstein family shop was so close to the Cavern, else Brian might not have found us. Then it would have been good night, Beatles!" Ringo: "I owe everything to him. Without Eppy I would never have become a Beatle. He was the one who acquired me." Paul: "Without Eppy the Beatles wouldn't exist anymore. There was a lot of truth to the rumors that we were breaking up. We had a few crises within the group. So heavily that we were about to go our separate ways. It was Eppy who repaired the cracks. He was our friend and we trusted him endlessly." The Beatles trustee is dead. His short, hot life ended 27 August 1967. John, Paul, George and Ringo didn't attend his funeral. They respected his biggest wish even after Brian Epstein was dead: He never wanted to be the center of their performance.

#the beatles #brian epstein #articles #translations

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hotvintagepoll · 1 month

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Propaganda

Eleanor Powell (Born to Dance, Broadway Melody of 1940)— shes in here right

Ruan Lingyu (The Goddess, New Women, Love and Duty)—Ruan Lingyu had an eight year movie career, starting at 16 and ending with her suicide at only 24. Despite this, she made some of the most widely acclaimed films of early Chinese cinema and the BBC called her "China's Greta Garbo." In "Love and Duty," she plays her character as a teen, a young mother, and an older woman beaten down by life AND her teen daughter in an early application of split-screen technology. Lingyu is absolutely unrecognizable as the older woman, yet emotionally the transition is seamless because she does such a good job. Lingyu had a hard life and killed herself after ination [sic] of media scorn and private problems. Her funeral was three days long, the procession was allegedly four miles long, and three women killed themselves during her funeral. The New York Times called it "the most spectacular funeral of the century." I'm adding this to show what kind of hold she had over the public at the time, much like Rudolph Valentino's raucous funeral. I would rather she had lived.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Ruan Lingyu:

silent era chinese actress who had a subtlety in her acting ability that was way ahead of her time. huge star but her career and life was sadly cut short by damaging publicity

Widely considered one of the best actresses of Chinese silent film

icon of chinese silent cinema known for her luminous beauty, her exceptional acting talent, and her tragic life story

Ruan Lingyu is a movie queen of China’s pre-war era, she mysteriously poisoned herself at age 24, leaving behind a note with the words "gossip is a fearful thing". Her funeral procession was reportedly 3 miles long, with three women committing suicide during the event. The New York Times called it "the most spectacular funeral of the century". It's hard not to believe how iconic and influencial she was after watching her movies, her acting was so nuanced and magnetic, i personally have never seen anything like it before.

Eleanor Powell:

[editor's note: this is unusual, but I feel so terrifically bad about the lack of propaganda for Eleanor Powell, who was known as one of the best dancers on the lot at MGM in the 30s and 40s, that I am making a rare exception to my "I don't post propaganda" rule to include one dance number of hers. It feels unjust to post a dancer and not even let you see them dance.]

youtube

#ruan lingyu #eleanor powell #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 1 #tw suicide #Youtube

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bettyshoweduptotheparty · 2 months

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TS 11 is the final show before the death and rebirth of Taylor Swift. And here’s how we know.

I saw this yesterday (thanks @spade-riddles and @corneliastvendor ) reacting to the latest TN post of Taylor's funeral image from the Anti Hero mv with the 11 cats. And I think there's more to add to this.

11 cats, 11 albums and 11 messages from 🎃anon. What comes after 11? 12. And at 12 o'clock we meet her at midnight. We've known it for over a year now. And it's interesting that we now know she has chosen the colour white to represent her 11th album. White represents a clean slate, rebirth, but also surrender. And talking of album colours, here's one more thing that I think it worth revisiting that supports this theory (it may already have been pointed out, sorry if I'm repeating things), the orange door that has haunted us for almost a full year now:

(sorry for the blurry tiktok image, I still haven't seen the tour or movie so I rely on other people's pictures)

As the door descends during the karma set, the space above it turns purple, then blue. The door itself is orange and the path that it's coming down on is white. So, orange (karma) follows purple (speak now tv) and blue (1989tv) and the path that paves the way for it to 'drop' is white (TTPD). In the comments for this tiktok, somebody also pointed out that the dancers for this set are arranged in two clusters, one with Taylor in the centre line and one with a dancer in an orange jacket with bleach blonde hair, looking much like the 2016 bleachella Taylor that we assumed might be the look of a new era (now assumed to be karma). So, with all the recent emphasis on the number 2 ✌🏼✌🏼, could this be the hint that karma is coming in the wake of TS11, maybe as a double drop? Personally, I think that's more plausible than a secret drop before April 19th, which is also a theory that I've seen, but I think it's unlikely (but what do I know...).

What I'm more convinced of it that we can stop anticipating rep and debut (tv) because those two will be replaced with karma. Remember, rep tv and all the hints to snakes and black clothing, were red herrings. Rep tv is not coming, karma is. Exile ended at 2, there was never a 1 or 0. We are down to 2 re-records but they won't come as expected, "reputation is an illusion" or whatever the message was. In any case, when that orange door hits the ground it's go time and I think we are closer than we think. I've seen so many people last year say 'When she plays Dear Reader and You're Losing Me as surprise songs it's on' and now she's played both of those in one week, immediately followed by a three song mash up of Getaway car/august/TOSOTD. So... escape the closet to the other side of the door in August? 😉

#eras tour #karma #orange door theory #TS 11 and TS 12

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daisykihannie · 2 months

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Our little secret (S.CB+B.CN)

pairing: Dom!Chan+Dom!Changbin x ftm!reader

warning: NSFW, overstimulation, teasing, threesome, praise, degradation, spit, cum, lots and lots of cum, scratching, giving oral, receiving oral, unprotected sex, NASTY NASTY BOYS, daddy kink, sir kink, 99% smut and 1% fluff, porn WITH plot

@getyourdirtyhandsoffme thank you for the idea! I hope you like it! I think I got a little bit carried away with this one. oopsie-

You had become pretty close with the idol group stray kids since you had been a frequent backup dancer for them. It was currently comeback season and you were all staying insanely busy with the hectic schedules of performances. It was Friday night and you just got back to your apartment about three hours ago after practicing.

Your friendship with them had grown over the last two years and it felt like you had become a part of their little family. You were the closest to them out of all the back up dancers, you being one of the only ones with a permanent spot in the lineup.

You were taking a hot shower to clean off all the sweat and grime from the extensive dance practice. The hot water working like magic to help relax your aching muscles. You heard your phone chime once, then twice, then three times. The only reason for your phone to be blowing up like that would be the group chat.

You chuckled inwardly at yourself knowing it was probably the 8 males being crackheads in the chat. In no rush you finished up your shower and stepped out. You wrapped a towel tightly around your hips and used a smaller one to start drying your hair.

You draped the towel over your shoulders to catching any remaining water from dripping onto your skin and grabbed your phone off the bathroom sink. You unlocked it to see more than 20 missed texts in the group chat. You opened the chat, reading through what you missed, plopping down on your couch still in just a towel.

You saw Chan and Changbin begging the others for company in the studio while they worked. Their brains going into overdrive and melting, or so their dramatic asses claimed. You looked at the clock seeing it was past midnight and your insomnia was raging. You weren't gonna be able to sleep for a while and you'd be bored out of your mind so you shot them a quick "I can be there in 20 but, y'all better not bore me to death after I go out of my way to keep your asses company." you sent the text with a chuckle, immediately receiving responses.

Changbin and Chan were promising not to be boring, saying they love you, singing your praises while the other 6 men were wishing you luck and basically planning your funeral after you end up getting bored to death. You turned off your phone and left it on the couch while you went to your room to get dressed.

You put on some light grey sweats, that showed the outline of your packer a bit, and a white Muscle Tee with black lettering on it. Your top surgery scars barely visible after so long, the skin just barely more pale and pink than your skin tone. You started to feel more comfortable wearing the top around the others considering you could remain very stealth about your transition now without any obvious scars.

Your hair was still very damp as you grabbed your keys, slipping on your Vans and walking out to your car. The studio was only about a 15 minute walk from your apartment but it was mid autumn so the cool breeze nipped at your exposed skin, your wet hair making you even more chilly so you decided driving was the best option.

When you arrived, you still had about 5-ish minutes till you said you'd be there so you took your phone out of your pocket to see even more missed messages of the boys arguing about everything and nothing at the same time. A lot of teasing was happening towards Chan and Changbin about them "being in love with" you which made you snort out a laugh.

You headed up to the top floor where the studio was, standing in front of the fogged glass door just two minutes early. You could hear the two males arguing but couldn't make out anything they were saying, knocking a bear all the members used to communicate their presence. you heard Chan loudly telling Changbin to shut the fuck up and the door flung open to a smiling Chan, dimples on full display. He had a slight blush on his cheeks and ears but you just assumed it was from the teasing from his other members.

"Miss me?" you said with a cocky smirk, walking into the studio and plopping on the leather sofa in the back that Jisung normally napped on, tucking one ankle under your knee to sit comfortably, leaning back with a sigh.

"Chan missed you a lot for sure." Changbin retorted taking a jab at his Hyung. "Definitely not as much as our binnie though." he said, jabbing back without any hesitation.

"We get it, you're all in love with me. No need to argue boys, there's plenty of Y/N to go around." you said in a joking tone, eyes still shut as your head was resting on the back of the couch. You couldn't see the fact that both their faces were heating up as they both checked you out, your words sparking something almost primal inside of them.

They both know you said it as a joke but they really wished that somewhere deep inside, you meant it. "Don't say something you'll regret babe." Chan said, flirting as per usual but normally it wasn't directed at you but you shrugged it off thinking he was just going along with the jokes you started.

"What if I don't regret it?" you said, eyes finally meeting Chan's eyebrow cocked with a smirk as you finally saw his dark, almost hungry expression. He looked like he was bound to attack at any moment. A groan left his throat, resonating somewhere deep in his chest.

oh?

You felt your cheeks start to get hot as your stomach started doing back flips. What the fuck was that and why was your body responding to it like a horny teenager? You kept your composure as you continued teasing them.

"What? Cats got your tongue? You and Binnie have never been so quiet before. Has little old me made you unable to speak?" You said, the devilish smirk growing on your face as your eyes flicked between Chan and Changbin's faces, both sporting the same fire in their eyes. They looked so-

Your eyes traveled down their figures, noticing they both had their dicks reacting to you and your words. You licked your bottom lip subconsciously as your gaze met theirs again. You adjusted in your seat, placing your other foot on the ground and pushing your hips forward a bit, your packer looking a bit more prominent now. Their gazes landed on your lap and you realized.

They were both needy for your cock. The silicone one in your pants that looked like you were starting to sport your own hard on like they were. Then it hit you. They don't know that it's fake. To them you're biologically male just like them.

oh shit- what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

They both rolled their chairs over to either side of your thighs, placing their hands on your mid thigh to test the waters, seeing you bite you lip and look up at them with such need made their dicks twitch against the fabric of their pants. You had a pleading look in your eyes that made the need to devour you, that much stronger.

Little did they know that you were only half pleading for them to ruin you. The other pleading for your brain to come up with a way to tell them that you don't have a dick. The wetness in your boxers making it that much harder to think.

You started to feel dizzy as your abs started to constrict as the kneeling your thighs, slowly going high towards your aching core. Chans other hand slipping under your shirt to feel your abs tensing. Changbin's other hand was palming himself through his pants, slowly, watching you squirm under their touch.

"You look so fucking handsome like this Y/N." Changbin growled at your, his eyes fucking you from afar. You let out a soft whimper at his words, feeling overwhelmed by all the stimulation for their hands. Chan started to move the hand in your shirt higher, right as the pad of his middle finger was about to touch the scar your eyes widened, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

"Wait!" You yelled a bit frantically, sitting up straight. You took a few deep breaths, both the males removing their hands from you and freezing, a terrified look on their faces thinking you regretted giving them consent and you didn't want this.

"Y/N... I'm so-" Changbin began to speak but was cut off by you. "Shut UP- just-" you let out a sigh realizing your voice was a lot harder than intended because of your fear. You never planned to come out to anyone in stray kids and definitely not like this, you soaking your boxers, panting and needy while Chan and Changbin were painfully twitching in their pants, hungry for you.

"I'm sorry- look I- neither of you have done anything wrong just- fuck- how do I even tell you this...?" your words failing you, brain still dizzy from the previous events. You let out a groan, placing your face in both your hands trying desperately to get your brain to work.

"It's okay Hun. Just take your time." Chan said reassuring you, putting his hand on your knee and rubbing circles onto the fabric with his thumb to reassure and encourage you.

"I just need to rip the band-aid off..." You sighed again removing your hands, clasping them in front of you, staring at them like they were the most interesting thing on the planet. "I'm- iwasbornagirlandstillhaveapussymsofuckingsorry." you spat it all out in one breath, finding your burning face in your hands, eyes screwed shut as you waiting for them to yell at you for misleading them.

But it never came. You looked at the two males from between your fingers seeing confusion on their faces, screwing your eyes shut again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mislead you. I just-" this time you were cut off by Changbin.

"That- that's it? You're still a guy. Still a man, and I can say I'm still very much attracted to you. I still would like to continue but only if you do." Changbin cooed at you, his words shaking you to your core, causing you to drop a bit more into your boxers.

"You're still Y/N. Our handsome baby boy. Your biology isn't going to change that. I'd still love to show you just how handsome you are if you let me." he had a slight growl in his tone at the end of his sentence. They still wanted you? They were actively waiting for your consent again.

You sat up again still pretty shocked, the devilish smirk finding your lips again as your pussy began to throb. "Then show me. Show me how handsome I am. Show me just how hungry you are for me and my cunt." you said finding a new sense of confidence from the way Chan and Changbin continued eye fucking you and the tent in their pants never leaving.

You didn't need to ask twice. Chan put one knee between your spread legs on the couch, leaning over you and attaching his plump lips to your neck, sucking softly and trailing kisses around to find your most sensitive spot. When your back arched off the couch, your hips slightly bucking against the thigh resting against you core, Chan couldn't help but moan as he began sucking and biting harshly at the spot, sure to leave a bruise.

While Chan was making you squirm with his lips and tongue on your neck, Changbin ran his hands under your shirt, fingertips finding your hardened bud, not even taking notice of the scars on your chest as his nails dragged across them for a moment. You were breathing heavy, biting your lower lip to keep and noises inside.

You were doing a pretty good job of staying quiet until you felt Changbin's hot breath on the skin of your abs, followed by his wet tongue tracing the edges of the muscles up until his lips ghosted over your sensitive nipple, his breath sending chills down your spine, causing you to rut against chan's thigh again. You inhaled sharply when he tensed his thigh muscles, pressing against your throbbing cunt.

"We wanna hear you baby. Come on and let out those pretty moans of yours." Chan's voice was commanding, dark and sultry. Your thighs clenching around his in desperate need to be touched. You let out a symphony of moans and grunts as you tried to ride Chan's thighs. Changbin sucking and biting at your nipples, the pain was causing your skin to burn in the best possible ways.

"P-Please..." You started begging. You didn't even know what exactly you were begging for or from who but all you knew is that you needed more. so much more from both of them.

"Please what pup? use your words~" Changbin said against your chest, looking up at you and you fell apart under their touch. "S-sir... Daddy... P-Please... t-touch me, fill me, t-taste me... Fuck! please! I've been good! I need you both so fucking bad!" You're sure you were screaming for them now, thank fuck the studio was soundproofed.

"Good fucking boy." Chan growled into your ear, the praise shot straight to your needy cunt. Clenching around nothing, desperate for their touch. Chan and Changbin were quick to work together to strip you completely, your pussy red and glistening in need and desire.

Chan licked his lips and Changbin but his, not taking their eyes off your figure. Hair a mess, Chest rising and falling heavily, legs spread to have your pussy on display for them, your enlarged clit visibly throbbing, looking so fucked out just from the foreplay. Your eyes lidded as you watched the both of them undress in front of you, their cocks rock hard and slapping their abs when they pulled their boxers off.

Their tips were angry and leaking. You waiting for their next moves, completely at their will. "Please Daddy and Sir, use me like your own personal sex toy. Please" You were growing impatient, needing them to touch you now or you felt like you'd die.

"Fuck- Such a pretty slut when you beg for our cocks." Chan said as he dropped to his knees between your legs, his face close to your core, licking his lips hungrily, ghosting his lips over your throbbing clit when he spoke his lips grazing ever so slightly across it causing you to let out a whimper and arch your back. "Keep your eyes on him and use that pretty mouth to make him cum like the good pup you are." Chan said before wrapping his slightly swollen and wet lips around your dick (clit) and sucking, rolling his tongue like he was made to eat you out.

Your eyes rolled back and your right hand tangled into his hair, holding his face against your core, already feeling a bit dizzy from the magic he was working on your dick. Changbin climbed onto the couch, kneeling on your left, his cock leaking as he placed the tip against your bottom lip. "Open, tongue out." you didn't need told twice.

You looked up at him opening your mouth and letting your tongue roll out, his cock felt heavy on your tongue. You let out a deep groan from your chest fighting letting your eyes roll back in your head to keep eye contact with Changbin. His hand fisted your hair as he ran his cock up and down your tongue to get the shaft lubed up with your spit.

He leaned forward and spit onto your tongue and the tip of his cock causing you to let out a whimper. "Close." he said and your lips wrapped around just the tip of his cock. Your legs began trembling as Chan kept eating you out like his life depended on it. Never pulling away to breathe as his tongue laps at the juices that poured out of you, his tongue switching between fucking into your tight hole and going crazy on your dick.

You were moaning desperately around Changbin's cock as he fucked mercilessly into your mouth, groans falling off his lips, keeping eye contact with you as your eyes kept trying to roll back into your head, your moans sending vibrations through his cock as you got closer and closer to your high. You tried to pull Chan off of you and he grabbed your hand from his hair pinning it to the couch as he moaned against you, vibrations sending you over the edge.

You came hard on his tongue, your left hand on Changbin's hip as he continued to use your mouth. Your orgasm ripped through your body, grinding against Chan's face as he continued to help you through your orgasm into overstimulation. Your nails digging into Changbin's hip, making him hiss, the pain bringing him closer to his own climax, your eyes were rolled back into your head as the after shocks coursed through your trembling body.

Chan stood from between your thighs, lining himself up with your throbbing core and rubbing your hip to prepare you for the stretch. He pushed into you slowly, a scream escaping your throat as your nails dug into Chan's bicep, Changbin's cock still stuffed into your mouth, sending him tumbling over the edge, pushing his cock to the back of your throat, making you gag around him as his cum shot down your throat, swallowing everything, your throat constricting his tip, casing his orgasm in your throat all the way to the end. He pulled out, breathing heavy, your moans began filling the room.

You were dizzy, in the best way possible as Chan began a slow place, still rubbing your hip to soothe the pain. "You're being such a good boy. So pretty for your Hyungs. So fucking tight- fuck- so good!" Chan moaned out, moving slowly in and out of you, fighting every need to ram I to you till you were dumb from his cock.

"P-Please f-faster... h-harder" your words were sliced and barely coherent. you were already starting to go brain dead from the insane amount of pleasure, overstimulated. Chan picked up his pace, slamming into your g-spot, pushing you over the edge again. You were clenching around Chan's throbbing cock, him riding the waves of your second orgasm with you.

"Fucking hell BABY-" Chan hissed and maintained a brutal pace, slamming into you as your nails dug into his back, sure to break skin. Your back staying arched as you came around his cock repeatedly. "Fuck- how many was that sweetheart? 4?" Chan asked you.

You shook your head, only being able to moan and scream in pleasure. unable to speak or think really. "hmmm 5?" he asked, slamming into your g spot again, you nodded frantically as you felt another orgasm about to tear through your body. Chan's stamina was something you could never imagined as he pulled you through your 6th orgasm. Changbin was watching for a bit before he pushed his index and middle finger into you mouth.

You sucked on the digits, swirling your tongue around them, moaning around them as tears started to fall down your cheeks in pure ecstasy severely overstimulated from the way Chan abused your insides. Changbin pulled his fingers out, drenched in your saliva and his fingertips brushed against your dick, your back arching harder off the couch and your nails drawing blood on Chan's back, making him his in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"no no no no please- fuck- too much! sir!" you were screaming so loud that you could hear yourself over the blood rushing loudly behind your ears. "Fucking- i'm- I'm close. Fuck! where should I?" Chans thrusts got sloppy, Changbin trying to make you cum again with Chan, circling your sensitive dick over and over again causing you to squirm under the two men. "I-in. s-side." you could barely speak but Chan understood.

"Hyung's gonna fill our good boy so well." Changbin purred into your ear, never removing his hand from your dick. His lips attached to yours feverishly as Chan's cock twitched inside of you filling you with his warm seed. You begin punching Chan's thighs and scratching Chagbins ribcage, a low groan ripping from Chan's chest as he rode out his high. Pushing you to yet another dry orgasm. you lost count of how many you had, Changbin still tongue fucking your mouth, swallowing your screams and moans, him moaning along with you as your nails dug into his flesh.

Chan pulled out of you with a hiss, his cock sensitive to the cool air, your pussy pulsing and clenching around nothing while the mixture of your cum and his poured out of your pussy, dripping down the front of the couch, every muscle in your body spasming after everything. Changbin pulled away from your lips, making you whine from the lack of their body heat against you, but it didn't last long as they both got comfortable on either side of you, sandwiching your trembling body between them.

"You did so so fucking good for us. Such a good boy." Chan cooed and began peppering your body and face with soft kisses. "You're so handsome in every way pup. Absolutely perfect. Never let anyone change your mind about that." Changbin cooed and started to massage your trembling sighs and nuzzle into your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "You're our pretty boy. Ours. Never forget that." Chan said, nuzzling into your neck.

Your body finally gave out from exhaustion, falling asleep between the two boys who lied with you for a bit then got dressed, cleaned you up, then got you dressed. Looking at the clock they saw it was about 5am. They texted the GC and said they were heading back, you had fallen asleep in the studio and they were gonna let you sleep at the door in their room. They didn't need to know any other details about tonight and why you were so exhausted or why they literally made no progress on the track.

That was for you three to know, and the others to never find out. But you looked way too fucked out when they arrived to the dorms. Still knocked out cold in their arms, covered in their marks, Chan and Changbin covered in bloody scratches.

"Y'all are fucking nasty. When we said don't bore him to death we didn't mean to fuck him to death." Jisung said, taking his bowl of cereal to his room as the three of you climbed into Chan's king sized bed, falling asleep all together.

#skz imagines #skz #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids #straykids smut #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #changbin #chan smut #bangchan smut #changbin smut #chan x reader #changbin x reader

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domesticcaboose · 2 years

Text

“Hey, it’s Bradley”

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Gn Reader

TW: Cursing, like a lot of cursing

A/N: it’s my first time actually posting my writing on here so pls be nice! Also, feel free to mention anything we need to fix grammatically. Proofreader and coauthor is @lunamoon1744

“Hey, uh, it's Ro-Bradley. It's Bradley. Fuck it’s probably late where you’re at. Sorry, I just, fuck, look, I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. I loved you, love you, still love you and I know this is a shitty way to go about it but there’s a mission and I don’t know whether I'm going to make it back, but I was back at Top Gun for a few weeks, and God, all I could think about was us, you, and how much I love you and how much I fucked you over and I’m sorry. God I'm so fucking sorry an’ I’m not asking you to forgive me but I can't die without apologizing, without letting you know that leaving you was the worst decision of my life and if I could go back I’d-, fuck I’m running out of time, I just, I love you so fucking much and I, I gotta go, fuck, I’m sorry, I love you.”

Bradley Bradshaw. Rooster. God, you loved him, and he had broken your heart. It’d been a few years since the breakup, and honestly you're surprised he still knows your number. Lord knows you had to look back into your contacts to figure out whether he called you through his phone, or someone else's. It was probably the ship's phone, seeing as you still had his cell number in your contacts.

It probably doesn't matter by now. If he went on the mission right after he called you, that would have been 15 hours, 48 minutes, and approximately 56 seconds ago. You begin pacing back and forth across the house. If he was going to die, he’d already be dead, and if he was going to live, he’d already be back on the carrier. Plus, there was no guarantee he was even going back to Top Gun, he could be going straight to his next assignment. You stop dead in your tracks. He could be dead.

Then again, that was the problem wasn't it? It didn't really matter, you would go to the ends of the Earth if he had asked you to, if he had so much as implied that he needed or wanted you to. Maybe that's why you had already finished packing, bag already by the door, heart already knowing what your head was trying to figure out.

Leaning over the kitchen island, you pull out your laptop and start looking for any possible flights to anywhere even remotely close to San Diego and Top Gun. A few hours that pass over your nerves like shitty tap dancers, about 50 tabs, and a coffee or three later you finally come across a flight. It's expensive, significantly more than you would ever pay normally, and through an airline you've never used before. It's also leaving in an hour from an airport 49 minutes away. Taking a deep breath, you say fuck it and start typing your credit card numbers in, because you are tired and desperate and you just need to be there in case he did come back.

God, you hope he's alive.

It was a seven and a half hour flight and a two hour drive, having booked the first flight you found to anywhere close by. You had a bit of a drive to get to Top Gun, but you honestly can’t remember much of your trip. How can you? For all you know, you're doing all of this for a funeral that you're not even sure you would be invited to.

You're not completely sure how you ended up in front of the Hard Deck. Well, that's a lie. You know damn well why you stopped here before trying to find a hotel. It's an aviator's bar. It's where the aviators go after work. You’d been here with him the first time around. When you were dating. When you thought you were going to marry him.

It's stupid, and emotional, and childish to stop. It’s been a little less than two days since he made the phone call, and if he is alive he'd still be on the ship, or in a hospital somewhere. That didn't stop you from walking in, from looking around, from ordering a drink, from sitting down and waiting on some distant hope that he'd pop through the door. You haven't actually figured out what you're going to do when you see him again. But fuck if that didn't mean you still wanted to see him.

It was another three days of watching and waiting, of sitting at the bar with Penny, of wondering whether or not the last actual conversation you will ever have with the love of your life was when you broke up, when he told you he never loved you.

It's your fifth day in San Diego, when you see his Bronco in the Hard Deck parking lot. You know that fucking car anywhere and you know for a fact that if it was here then Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw was alive. Which means he could have damn well called you and informed you of such!

Taking a deep breath, as to not preemptively jump to conclusions, and to not kill the first person that looks at you wrong, you hurry up and force your way through the Hard Deck’s doors, making a scan for tall, brunette, and mustached.

It's not hard to find him. He is standing by a handful of other pilots and Penny. She's under who you assume is the pilot named Pete’s arm, looking very amused by your entrance. Bradshaw, on the other hand, is laughing lazily with his friends, like you hadn't thought he might be dead for the better part of the week.

“BRADLEY FUCKING BRADSHAW!”

The sound of pool balls clinking stops almost immediately, and you hear whispers arising from some of the pilots scattered around the bar. The man of the week looks in your direction, and while his eyes light up, his face falls as you start marching across the floor towards him. “...y/n?”

You feel multiple eyes on you as you stomp across the bar, and out of the corner of your eye you can also see a few heads turn. “What in the ever loving fuck is wrong with you? The fuck was that phone call?” You come to a stop right in front of him, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Have you been landing too hard it’s starting to fuck with your head?” there's a snort on your right, coming from some Ken-doll-looking motherfucker. “Because that shit-”

“Y/n?”

“Is not okay! At all! You don't call someone, and tell them you love them, and that your sorry, and then just fucking disappear! Honestly! Give me one good fucking reason I shouldn't hit you upside your head, I swear to god-”

He interrupts you by pulling you into a tight hug and holding you against him, and you use every ounce of self control to not hug him back. He leans slightly back, looking into your eyes, and opening his mouth to speak.

“You came?” …you came? YOU CAME? What in the ever loving fuck did he think you were going to do after he called, go to brunch and have some fucking mimosas? Chill at the beach? Not lose your absolute goddamn mind?

“OF COURSE I FUCKING CAME!” You struggle in his arms before giving up and grabbing his shoulders in order to pull him down a bit so your eye level. “We may not have left on the best of terms, but I still fucking love you! Honestly, you could have called me at any point and I would have shown up because that's what you do when you love someone! And maybe that wouldn’t be my best discission but, fuck, I've never had a doubt that you would-”

“You still love me?” Maybe it was the way he said it, sounding like he was going to cry, or the way he looked like he was in complete shock over the fact that you still love him, even though he’s the one who walked away, but it makes your anger fade from the loud and explosive kind to the tired and worried one.

“Jesus fucking son of a fuck I swear to-” deep breaths, homicide is illegal and there’s witnesses, lots of witnesses, because almost everyone in the bar has turned to stare, nosey fucks. “-Yes. I love you, I loved you when we were dating, I loved you when we broke up, and I love you now, but, if you say one. More. Stupid. Fucking. Thing. I'm going to drown you in the ocean-” and it's true. You do love him. But it's also true that if he doesn't stop interrupting you, you are going to try and throw him in the ocean. It wouldn't work, you've tried it before, but it would make you feel better.

He smiles like a dumbass, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. He puts his hand on your cheek, leaning down and pressing your foreheads together. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, I’m aware, but I swear to god if you interupt me one more fucking time-” which, he of course decides to do by kissing you. Which, not to say that you are complaining, but it's hard to stay mad when he's kissing you like it's all he's ever thought about. Putting both of your hands on his chest, you lightly push him away. “-we’re not in a movie. Kissing me’s not gonna get me to shut up-”

“What if I kiss you multiple times?” And isn't that a tempting offer? But, as much as you love him, that phone call was the worst possible way of getting in contact with you again.

You narrow your eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching ever so slightly up. “You can kiss me everyday for the rest of our lives, but it’s still not gonna stop me from thinking you're an idiot and calling you on it.”

“Promise?”

You can't help but to shake your head and smile. “Goddammit Bradley, I'm trying to be mad at you, you inconsiderate asshole. Yes, yes I promise, for as long as your dumbass wants to keep me-”

“Forever then.” And there it was, that stupid fucking smile that you loved. The one that made you stop yelling, at least for the moment, because he was alive, and he loved you, and he wasn't going to walk away this time. Sighing as you lean into him, the exhaustion of the week finally starts to catch up with you, but at least you know that he's safe.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #gn reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun #topgun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun fandom #top gun fic #rooster top gun #rooster x y/n

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accio-victuuri · 4 months

Text

Wang Yibo’s “Popular Films” interview feature:

Why do everyone keep talking about Al Pacino's performance in "The Godfather"? It's really like the blooming of a second life that will last forever. This is probably what makes me like movies more and more. I watched a movie before, and there was a line I liked very much that seemed to say: Some movies end the moment the screen lights up, and some movies will last forever. Well, good movies will last forever. , this is also what I think is very charming about a movie.

👨: Welcome Yibo! Congratulations on your nomination!

WYB: thanks, thanks!

👨: Speaking of which, "Popular Movies" had a relatively detailed report on "Hidden Blade" in the second issue of 2023.

WYB: Ah yes, I know. I read that article.

👨: How well do you think the author understood it?

WYB: I think there is no such thing as a standard! Because everyone has a different story and a different perspective on things, so everyone has their own understanding. This is what I think is the most interesting thing about the movie.

👨: We also made detailed reports on the subsequent "Born to Fly" and "One and Only", but we did not conduct interviews at the time. Now let's talk briefly about them in order of release date from near to far!

WYB: Okay, okay!

👨: First up is "One and Only". The protagonist of this film is a hip-hop boy, which should be in your Comfort Zone Is this role relatively easy to play?

WYB: I think it is my comfort zone when it comes to dance. In terms of performance, it will indeed be similar to my childhood experience. I may understand the dancers better and get into the role better, so it will be closer, but I think there is no easy role.

👨: This script was written after the director negotiated with you to star in it, right?

WYB: Yes, the director was also making changes and additions in the middle. The script he received at the beginning was also different from the final result.

👨: There is a lot of dancing in this film. Did you participate in the choreography?

WYB: Because this type of dance is quite special, it is not danced while standing on the ground. There are many techniques in breaking. Although I know hip-hop very well, I cannot completely execute the technique part by myself, so I do have my own idea, but the choreographer didn’t participate.

👨: After the choreographer completed the choreography, did you propose any changes when communicating with them?

WYB: Maybe you have, yes, because sometimes when you jump by yourself, you may wish that here, eh, would it be better to use this action? Well, it is a process of continuous improvement.

👨: It's very interesting. You and Director Dapeng got along as actors in "Hidden Blade" and as directors and actors in "Hidden Blade". Is there a big difference in the way of getting along with each other?

WYB: There is indeed a big difference, because in "Hidden Blade" I had less contact with director Dapeng, and we did not have any direct scenes together. We only appeared together in the group scenes of eating and holding umbrellas at funerals. In that very serious creation. There is also less communication in the environment. But when we collaborated on "One and Only" later, Director Dapeng seemed like a different person, very lively and happy.

👨: "One and Only" has a comedy atmosphere, while "Hidden Blade" is very serious, even a little sad, so I think your personal temperament is closer to "Hidden Blade"...

WYB: Thanks!

👨: So how did you develop your comedy performance in "One and Only"?

WYB: I feel that I was not responsible for the comedy part in "One and Only". Chen Shuo is more like an innocent, serious and hard-working young man. Yue Yunpeng laoshi or Xiao Shenyang laoshi are responsible for the comedy part.

👨: But there are also some scenes where everyone will have fun together after just one sentence...

WYB: oh?

👨: For example, "Just show respect!"

WYB: Ah, hahaha, yes. These jokes were thought up by the director and screenwriting teacher. I told them based on the upright and innocent feeling of the character. Maybe the contrast coupled with this word will make the effect more comedic.

👨: Although there are not many lines like this, the impression is quite deep.

WYB: Thanks!

👨: Generally speaking, when an actor completes a role, he will have certain emotions for this role. So when you leave Chen Shuo, what kind of feelings do you have for him, and what do you hope his life will be like in the future?

WYB: After the movie "One and Only" was completed, I still remember it very fondly. Yes, because it is more like my experience as a child. When I was a child, I insisted on dancing when I was a child, and it was because of dancing that I became a star or an actor. So I am very happy that Chen Shuo has such a perfect ending. I hope he will have a smooth sailing future and win more championships.

👨: Okay, now let’s talk about “King of the Sky”. Director Liu Xiaoshi said it’s very important for you to get the script, you quickly decided to star in the role. Was it the subject matter that moved you?

WYB: It is indeed a script like "The King of the Sky". Many of the lines are really touching, and it is also hard to resist such military themes and test pilot themes.

👨: Do you have a military complex?

WYB: I think I am quite passionate inside.

👨: This film was shot in the Northwest for a long time. During the process, I knew that there was some training, and it was also quite difficult. The Northwest is windy, sandy, and cold.So what do you think is the most difficult thing?

WYB: Well…………I think this is really after getting involved, I don’t think it is a difficult thing, because everyone is working hard in the same direction, maybe I will feel tired at the time, or It was quite bitter, so what, but when I look back and think about it - I am this kind of person - if I look back and think about the things I have done, I won't think it was anything, it was not a big deal. Although the shooting time is so long, this allows the actors to focus more on delving into the knowledge of various aircraft, because this still takes time to understand.

👨: Mr. Hu Jun was also nominated for the Golden Rooster Award for Best Supporting Actor for this film. Did you congratulate each other?

WYB: Yes, yes, I was congratulating him just now during the ceremony.

👨: He has played many soldiers, and I think he is very familiar with this temperament...

WYB: Yes, Hu Jun laoshihas acted in "Flying Leopard" before and is also a pilot.

👨: He is the captain in the movie, leading you young test pilots to fight. Watch the behind- the-scenes and he often teaches you acting outside the play?

WYB: Yes, he is like a big brother. He takes us to exercise and eat together, and sometimes we will talk about the script and each character together on set. Jun ge is very good at taking care of people, because there are seven people in our team. It’s not just me. In fact, Jun ge has also been taking care of other young actors.

👨: Your team is quite united.

WYB: Yes, because they are all boys, they like sports, and they all havesimilar interests.

👨: I would like to interject, if you really go for the pilot selection, is it possible to pass?

WYB: It may be very difficult, mainly because the physical quality is too high. I’d better treat myself as an actor first (laughs).

👨: It is both the main theme and commercial quality. We feel that "Born to Fly" has exceeded our expectations. How did it feel when you saw the finished film? Because there were no special effects when you shot it? ?

WYB: Actually, when I started running the road show, I hadn’t gone to the cinema to watch it because of time constraints. Then I remembered whether it was in Guangzhou or somewhere, so I went to the theater to watch it. The visual effects, sound effects, and the whole thing were really like those in a theater. The special effects are really shocking. I didn’t expect that the visual effects of fighter jets in the air could be made like this. I didn’t expect that some high-altitude movements of airplanes and unknown movements of the aircraft could be explained and presented on the big screen like this.

👨: Also, what do you think of Lei Yu’s future?

WYB: He will definitely go in the direction of Captain Zhang Ting, but he must be a new generation of young test pilots. Captain Zhang Ting also said before that every generation of test pilots is different, and theoretical knowledge like Lei Yu It will be more solid and the flying skills will be better.

👨: Director Cheng Er said that when he sees you ordering and putting on those costumes, he feels like the characters in his original novel or script have become different. So when did you feel that you were Mr. Ye?

WYB: When I tried makeup for the first time, I had never tried makeup and styling like that before. It felt like I was in another time and space. Such styling and clothing helped me instantly connect with this character. Then I think it was through the lines between the opposing actors and the communication with the director - because everyone knows the director's script, they will add it part by part, and as the filming process progresses, it will gradually become more and more complete. The more I get to know this character, the more I am immersed in it, and the more skillfully I perform.

👨: Director Cheng Er said that you have sufficient training. What does this training include?

WYB: I also trained in advance before shooting, and went to watch some movies specifically. For example, the director took me to watch "The Godfather" Parts 1, 2, and 3 again, as well as "Pulp Fiction", "Inglourious Basterds" and so on, and maybe more It’s some pull tabs on performance status. Then there is also some training such as lines, including action training.

👨: Director Cheng Er himself said that many scenes are left to you to express yourself freely.

WYB: Well, sometimes there are. Sometimes the director will tell me his idea first, and then I will act it out again, and then make adjustments; sometimes the director will give me a framework, that is, how to do it in this environment, and then you will You think about what you want to do, and if you think it's OK, we'll start shooting.

👨: Oh, it turns out this is such a process.

WYB: Yes, yes, he is very detailed in some aspects and very open in others. For example, the previous process is a detailed communication, telling me carefully that you can take off your clothes first, then take off your tie, and then change; or if you feel comfortable, you can also take off your tie first—— I'm just making an analogy - take off your clothes again. But sometimes, they will tell me the situation, and then let me think about how to do it, and then shoot after I have thought about it. Give it a big framework, yes, and it contains your freedom.

👨: What impressed you most during the filming of "Unknown"? Which scene do you remember the most NG?

WYB: Actually, not long after I started making movies, I was selected by director Cheng Er, and it was a very important role, so I had a very deep impression on the filming. One reason is that the director is used to shooting at night, or he feels that shooting at night is more exciting. Most of our shooting starts at 6 pm and ends at 6 am the next day. This highly concentrated and tiring way of working is really rare to experience! And then I failed a few times... The director is very, very serious and very meticulous. Maybe during the filming process, wefilmed a lot of scenes, well, we just found the best ones through reshooting over and over again.

👨: Especially that one-shot fight scene?

WYB: Oh, yes, that is also rehearsed in advance. You get those cardboard boxes in advance, roughly arrange a scene, and then practice and play until the official shooting.

👨: I remember director Cheng Er said that he shot more than 30 takes, and he used the second to last take.

WYB: Maybe, but I can’t remember clearly, because I could only take five or six pictures a day, and it took a week. The director will be more aware when editing.

👨: So Director Cheng Er said you have enough patience?

WYB: I personally think that when doing something you like, no matter how big the difficulty is, it may not be a difficulty, so you can just keep doing it. Maybe this is the aspect of patience that the director is talking about.

👨: Speaking of language talent, Director Cheng Er has repeatedly praised you. Is that because you have this talent and it doesn’t take much effort to learn these dialects or foreign languages?

WYB: Well, I think on the one hand it's okay and not too strenuous, and on the other hand I think my own lines are not that good, so maybe I will feel more confident when speaking a language that I am not familiar with.

👨: Many viewers commented that your Japanese is not only fluent, but also that your tone is full.

WYB: Well, the crew has a dedicated Japanese teacher who will give me a video with the corresponding Chinese characters and Japanese, so I listen and watch at the same time, and I am also imitating his tone, because the Japanese teacher actually helped me perform and speak the Japanese intonation and tone, so I tried my best to imitate it.

👨: The eye scenes, fighting scenes and the use of multiple languages in "Hidden Blade", which part do you think is the most difficult?

WYB: I think it's the eyes, because maybe I haven't trained my eyes like this before. In addition, "Hidden adr" does have a lot of eye scenes, so I think eye scenes are quite difficult. In addition, sometimes I have to act opposite Mr. Liang, which makes me very nervous and under a lot of pressure.

👨: How did you overcome this pressure later?

WYB: Prepare in advance and have a lot of rehearsals.

👨: You said that Mr. Ye is a very bitter person. If the plot continues, Director Cheng Er will most likely arrange a tragic ending for him. Putting aside the director's settings, what do you hope Mr. Ye's ending will be?

WYB: I think it may be difficult to have a happy ending. He lived in that era and in that working environment, but he did not leave. I hope that in his spy career, he can achieve his goals, complete his work, and escape unscathed. Well, how should I put it, be safe!

👨: Out of 10 points, how would you rate Mr. Ye's performance?

WYB: (Laughs) I think it might be a little higher than a passing grade!

👨: 7 points, 8 points?

WYB: If the full score is 10 points.

👨: We’ve just talked about three movies. Do you want to drink some water and take a break?

WYB: It's okay, it's okay, it's okay.

👨: It is very rare for a new actor to have three starring movies released in one year!

WYB: Thanks!

👨: I read some reports and interviews. The directors of these three films found you first, which can be said to be very lucky. So for you - you entered the entertainment industry as a singer and a pop idol - is it something that happens when your career develops to a certain stage, or is it because you like it, love it, and seize the opportunity to make your dream come true?

WYB: My first dream when I was little was definitely to be a singer and to stand on stage and sing. I think this first dream has come true. How I came into contact with movies, I think, was probably a mistake. In fact, my first movie was called "Dream Partner". At that time, Ms. Du of the company asked me to go for an interview, and then I made movies with Sister Yao Chen, including the movie "The Red Boy" in "Westward Journey 3". . From then on, I slowly started to understand movies and watched some movies, and then I felt that many movie actors, their charm, through movies and the screen, seemed to have gained a second life. Why do everyone keep talking about Al Pacino's performance in "The Godfather" It's really like the blooming of a second life that will last forever. This is probably what makes me like movies more and more. I watched a movie before, and there was a line I liked very much that seemed to say: Some movies end the moment the screen lights up, and some movies will last forever. Well, good movies will last forever. , this is also what I think is very charming about the movie. The charm of movies is still very different from the charm of stage. Yes. The stage, I think, may be more of a moment of pleasure, a kind of release on the stage, while the movie is exquisitely crafted.

👨: These three movies were all chosen first. Will you try hard to get a role that you like in the future?

WYB: Yes, you must first have a character and a script you like, and then go for it.

👨: Now that you have been nominated for the Golden Rooster Award, will you still submit your resume and audition?

WYB: Of course, including the works of favorite directors, I will also fight for them.

👨: Your own temperament, as defined by the movie channel, is "noble and romantic"...

WYB: Thanks!

👨: And it has a relatively reserved feeling. If you encounter a character who is full of emotions and has strong emotions, would you avoid it?

WYB: I think when I like a character, I don’t first think about whether his emotions are high and low, but maybe I think more about the charm of the character. If I like the character very much, it doesn’t matter if he is high or low, or Regardless of whether I keep it or not, I might wan to try it, but I’m not against it.

👨: What about comedy? Are you interested in a pure comedy?

WYB: Pure comedy, well, I haven't thought about it yet. If there is a character that i really like, I don't think I can resist it and I can try it.

👨: As a newcomer, you are relatively relaxed in front of the camera and don't feel tense. Is this because you started your acting career very early and have rich acting experience, so you are more familiar with the camera?

WYB: I think it is true that as a singer, when performing on stage, whether in front of the audience or in front of the camera, you may be relatively skilled and relaxed, but it is still not enough in the eyes of the director. I think Director Cheng Er gave me a good start. He asked me not to "act" but to subtract. In fact, I am very grateful to the director for cultivating such a goodhabit in me.

👨: During the filming process, in addition to the NG mentioned just now, we often heard "Keep one thing, keep one thing". Of course, this kind of "keep one thing" is often proposed by directors, but have you ever raised it yourself?

WYB: There will be, there will be.

👨: Why is that, if there are no mistakes?

WYB: The requirements are definitely getting higher and higher, and I hope to be better.

👨: What if the director is already satisfied?

WYB: Sometimes actors have their own obsessions, demands, or ideas of their own.They may want me to try something like this again, or I feel that if I have subtracted some actions just now, I would like this action I think it's a bit redundant, so I might want to say, let me do another one without this action.

👨: When you are working, are you in a state where you can get into a scene quickly and get out of the scene quickly?

WYB: I have to get into the mood in advance. I think as an actor, it is normal for you toprepare for the role. As for whether you are really immersed in this role, it depends on you. The more you put your heart into it, the more you will be immersed in it. If you put in your heart less, you won't be able to immerse yourself in it. This is how I feel. So I am more on that set, in that environment, to feel and immerse myself in the set. There is no way for me to change my face as soon as the filming starts, and then return to myself as soon as it ends. I think in that case, as an actor, I have not experienced enough to experience the role? Including if you are really crying very sadly and violently, can you stop it at once? That is impossible.

👨: Well, speaking of which, your crying scene really left a stunning impression on people, I just said that when the crying scene ends, you may not be able to get out for a while, but what about when you enter?

WYB: Every actor may have a different way of entering a scene, so I may still have to use some help. Whether it’s some memories or music, this is also a skill and the reason why actors need a lot of experience. The more you experience, the more you see, the more you understand. When I need some help with my performance, I can quickly capture similar details from my experiences or memories, and then perform them based on the feeling of the character.

👨: Your collaborators, whether they are directors or rival actors, often comment that you are dedicated and hard-working. So I would like to ask, to use the current fashionable term, are you an "involved" person? ?

WYB: I don't think there is such a thing as "involution". I just want to do this thing well out of love.

👨: Is it more accurate to pursue perfection relatively?

WYB: Well, I think so.

👨: People also say that you can endure hardships.

WYB: Well, it must be a little tiring physically, but back to the question, when I am doing this thing, I have already chosen to do it, and if I also want to do it well, I still can’t feel bitter. But would you say you are tired? You will still be tired. Maybe onlookers will think, how tired you are when you do this? Then the premise is that you still like it. I just don’t think it’s hard, but people will see how tired you are, so when they evaluate you, they will say you can endure hardship.

👨: Three movies were released this year, and two were nominated for the Golden Rooster Award. How do you evaluate your year?

WYB: I feel very satisfied and very lucky. Being able to produce three such good works in one year, I think it is really a blessing for an actor. Then whether you try different roles or experience different lives, you will be very happy.

👨: The word Director Cheng Er used to describe you impressed me deeply. It was called "Mianshan". This "Mian" should mean "soft". So you are a relatively soft-hearted person?!

WYB: Well, I think it depends on the situation. When getting along with others, I may be relatively soft. But when it comes to what I pursue, when I want to fight for the first place, I won’t be soft and will be very determined, so it depends on the situation.

👨: We have been paying attention to you since the news about "Hidden Blade" and "Born to Fly". Then I feel that you have changed a lot this year. Before, you felt more like a teenager. This year, whether in activities or in the process of publicity, you have become very calm, and you feel like an adult. Have you felt this change yourself?

WYB: I actually don’t feel this way too much, but I think it may be that I improved rapidly in the year when I made three movies... Maybe it’s also because of experience. Various experiences, I think, are different.

👨: You are usually busy with work and have a very intensive schedule, so do you have very little time for yourself in your spare time?

WYB: Actually, when I am not on the set, my spare time is pretty good, um, pretty good.

👨: Do you watch movies in your free time?

WYB: Yes, I watched a lot of movies with the director some time ago.

👨: Is it the kind of projection you watch at home?

WYB: No, I watched it in a theater with the director.

👨: By the way, you can now watch movies in real commercial cinemas

WYB: I haven’t tried this before. I haven’t tried this yet.

👨 What type of movies do you like as an audience?

WYB: Director Cheng'er took me to watch many literary and artistic films, such as "Songs from Second Floor", "A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence", "All that Jazz", and I liked them all, as well as "Leviathan" and so on. .

👨: They are all foreign films.

WYB: Yes, there are more in Europe.

👨: Do you find European literary films boring?

WYB: I didn't fall asleep (laughs), I quite liked it.

👨: So you watched a lot of movies with Director Cheng Er, and a few days ago went to the theater festival to watch a lot of plays. He also recommended you to "Sea of Stars"...

WYB: I said at the (Golden Rooster Award) nomination and commendation ceremony that I was very grateful to the director for helping me with the film, but I might have been a little nervous on stage at that time. In fact, what I wanted to say was that it was not just in "Hidden Blade", but it also helps me a lot outside the theater, whether it's the aesthetics of movies, music, or art. He told me that if you see too many good things, you will know what is bad.

👨: My understanding is that in addition to the cooperative relationship between director and actor, Director Cheng Er also has a kind of appreciation and support for you.

WYB: Well, yes, it can be understood that the director is teaching me like a teacher, he is my mentor and helpful friend.

👨: Talking about watching movies, do you rarely watch commercial movies?

WYB: I also like commercial films like the "Batman" trilogy very much. But recently I have watched relatively few commercial films. Yes, I mainly study literary and artistic films.

👨: Do you have a particular favorite actor?

WYB: Ah, think about it, the actress likes the Spanish actress Penelope Cruz in "Vicky Cristina Barcelona", and the actor, the actor in "21 Grams", is called Sean Penn.

👨: Well, he is an Oscar-winning actor and has a lot of personality.

WYB: Yes, very charming. He has many works. I also like the movie Dead Man Walking.

👨: "Dead Man Walking".

WYB: Hmm, yes.

👨: You have many hobbies, many of which have turned into skills, and you are considered an all-around artist.

WYB: No, I just want to like more things, but it’s not all-powerful. I like a lot of things, but I'm not good at them, so I don't think they're all-rounders.

👨: But when three directors notice you and choose you, these hobbies and skills such as motorcycle racing, hip-hop, etc. play a very important role.

WYB: Ah, this is also a bit lucky for me. I think I still have to stick to my hobby. This is also the joy of life. You can't just do one thing forever. I like to be exposed to new things, and I hope tostick to it as much as possible, but sometimes my hobbies may change quickly. For example, I was still enjoying golf, but suddenly I started playing tennis again. There is no way to focus on one hobby. To practice and improve all the time, maybe study in time periods. So I think I have many hobbies, but I am not good at them. But I just like so many hobbies, which make your life richer and more interesting, and can keep you in a relatively good state, including your mental state, in your spare time.

👨: Well, exercise is very good.

👨: I also want to ask a question about traffic.

WYB: Yes, yes, yes.

👨: Making a film is a long process, and some of it is kept secret. During thisprocess, if your popularity and traffic as a star are lost, would you mind?

WYB: I definitely don't mind, um, yes. Because I think my main identity now should be an actor. Of course, because it’s my favorite since childhood, I will also release new songs. Now that I am an actor, I actually want more time to broaden my horizons and enrich myself so that I can better shape different roles in the future. So how can I broaden my horizons and make myself more informed? Then I must go out, huh. Similarly, when I was working as an actor and making films, I might have less time to appear in public, and then my traffic would decrease, but I was still doing what I liked and paying for what I liked.

👨: Give us some information about the new film! Is there a script now?

WYB: Uh.........Yes! But I don't know what it will look like in the final shooting (laughs).

👨: Will movies still play an important role in your future career plans?

WYB: Yes, and at the same time, as I just said, don’t give up if you can, and persist.

====

*We have been urged several times to end it as soon as possible, and the following activities have been delayed.

Okay, that’s it for our interview! Finally, I would like to congratulate you again and hope that the filming of the new film goes well!

thanks, thanks!

This is the longest interview we did during the Golden Rooster Awards. The lovely interview subject has always been focused and peaceful, expressed candidly, occasionally thought, and often smiled.

No water, no rest.

His high-frequency vocabulary: thank you, like, love

What impressed us about him:

Extremely polite and always with a straight back.

Later, I watched him take photos. In the dark retro setting, he calmly changed his posture, calm and elegant, and had a charm that only radiated to the camera rather than the crowd.

This boy fulfills all the fantasies people have about idols. This young man is already pursuing bloom and eternity on the big screen. As a young man, his wings are beginning to take shape.

scanlations source

#wang yibo #accio victuuri translation #what a great interview!!!!#more movie recs from wyb!#this was so long i died lol #do not take outside of tumblr please

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dejwrld · 9 months

Text

˚₊𓆩༺🎸༻𓆪₊˚ — summer of 22', choso kamo

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈. — WHO THE HELL LISTENS TO CLASSICAL MUSIC?

ᩍ before reading please be advised of the following warnings — female reader, written with black reader in mind, humor/crack, noritoshi & choso are cousins in this cause i said so, profanity, this is quite self indulgent and kinda my own assumption & characterization of modern day choso, mentions of choso having a scar, mentions of character death (reader's mom), record shop boss!geto lol, two idiots that bond over music | mdni, taglist, masterlist, other creations

chapter playlist | are you with that by vince staples, wait a minute by willo, the less i know the better by tame impala

JAPAN WAS VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE STATES. A huge cultural shock compared to your busy lifestyle in New York City. You still could remember your father’s long lecture about being aware of your surroundings, don’t talk to strangers, going with your instincts in some locations, and so much more. You would think you were still that young sixteen-year-old girl who was raised by their single dad after the death of her mother, but you were of age. In the fall you would be a graduating senior at Julliard, living alone in a lovely apartment in New York City, teaching dance classes when you had free time, and doing many adult types of activities. You were a functioning young adult whose father still wanted to shelter you away from the world as if you were a hopeless Rapunzel.

It took some convincing for your father to let you go to a ballet convention in Japan for the summer, especially if he was going to be funding it. You planned to rent out a room, get as much knowledge as possible at this convention so you could be prepared for your senior year at Julliard, and then return home. Your father didn’t agree with that plan. He only agreed when your godmother Utahime Iori agreed to keep an eye on you.

Utahime Iori was an international ballet superstar and your late mom’s best friend. They met when they both were competing for the lead in Swan Lake, which was given to your mom. But your mother stepped down from the role when she became pregnant with you. The friendship between the two still blossomed from your mom being in the front row on the opening night to cheer Utahime on to your mom even keying Utahime’s boyfriend's car while six months pregnant with you. Utahime would always admit to you that your mom felt like she was her twin flame. They were insufferable when they were apart and together. Such a close bond and your mom’s death took a toll on Utahime. It hit her like a truck hitting a concrete wall at full speed. It sucked Utahime’s love for ballet right away, but the woman still stuck by your side during the journey of your ballet career.

She held your hand as the people around you threw pity your way during the funeral. She defended your passion for dance to your father as if she was defending an important law case. She did your hair for recitals. She stayed up late helping you come up with your Juilliard audition piece. She played the role of your godmother so well that you knew deep down your mom was smiling down on the both of you.

You were so excited to spend the summer in Utahime’s home country. You knew she was going to want you to practice for the ballet convention because every summer—a dancer is chosen to dance an original piece in front of many known people. From choreographers, dance tour coordinators, and of course, famous ballet royalty. You didn’t want this spot to be given to you considering who your mother was and the fact that Utahime helped fund the convention in the first place. She told you specifically that you won’t get special privileges, that if it’s a better dancer—they will not think twice about replacing you. That’s just how wicked the world of ballet was. When it came to ballet, you didn’t have time to cry about not getting the lead in a dance when the time you were feeling pity for yourself—you could be using it to make yourself better. Those were the words your former ballet instructor explicitly told you and those were the words you kept in your head up to this day.

“We need to lay down some ground rules,” Utahime stated as she placed a plate of food in front of you.

“Please don’t tell me, my dad gave you some rules.” You whined.

“No, these are my own rules,” Utahime said. She sat down at the table clearing her throat. “Practice comes first. I don’t care what you’re doing, I text you to come practice…come! This is not like the states, the dancers here sleep, eat, and breathe dance.”

“Okay.”

“No big distractions. I understand you most likely will want to mingle, you’re my very beautiful goddaughter—but please remember what you’re originally here for.” Utahime adds.

“No Summer flings, gotcha!”

“Okay, I didn’t say that. Just be mindful of who you are flinging with.” Utahime corrected.

“During your free time, please don’t associate yourself with the wrong crowd,” Utahime adds. “A ballerina with a criminal record isn’t cute no matter how good you look in your mugshot.”

“Don’t get arrested, noted. Any other rules?” You took a bite out of your food.

“Enjoy your summer, but please be mindful of what you’re here for. If you get to dance an original piece, it will look wonderful in your portfolio for when you graduate next Spring and that’s the endgame.”

“Of course! So, can I go exploring?” You eagerly asked. You gave your godmother those innocent puppy dog eyes that she has seen so many times since you were younger.

“Fine, but please be safe. I will be stopping at the dance studio, so when you’re done exploring—meet me there.” Utahime says.

You pushed yourself out of your seat and would go over to Utahime pulling her into a hug. Mumbling many thank yous and even kissing her cheek. “Thank you! I promise I’ll be at the studio at a reasonable time!” You yelled as you were going to leave.

You didn’t even let Utahime get a word out before you’re heading out of Utahime’s apartment and essentially you're home for the summer. You walked towards the elevator as you were walking, your face was buried in your phone updating your father on how you were doing. Even though he was most likely sleeping soundly back in New York, you still didn’t want to have him so worried during your three months here. You never understood the protectiveness your father had over you. Although it was a duty for fathers to protect their children as if their life depended on it—your father took it a little too far. Especially after your mother’s death, he once tried to take your love of ballet away from you. Arguing that it was the reason that broke your mom down and he refused to let you follow your mother’s dark path. Whatever that meant. Your mother’s death was a hushed secret that no one wanted to talk about. No one talked about what pushed her to do it, not even Utahime.

So what exactly did your father mean by ballet being why your mother took a dark path?

When you made it to the street, you opened Google and decided to search if any record shops were nearby. In the guest room, you were staying in, Utahime mentioned it being a record player a close friend gave to her and you were eager to use it during your time here. However, she didn’t have any vinyl records at all. She claimed that her career pushed her away from home quite often, so what was the point of buying vinyl records for a record player that only was collecting dust in her guest bedroom?

The first record shop that popped up was Suguru Records. You clicked on how far it was and wasn’t much of a walk. You placed your earbuds in your ear and soon Jazmine Sullivan was blasting through your ears. You took in everything around you as you were walking. From the architect of each building to the locals that are out and about. You enjoyed this atmosphere so much better than the busy streets of New York City during the rush hour of going to work or coming home from work. It was a soothing atmosphere and it made you even more excited to spend a summer here. Granted, the stares you were receiving as you were walking to your destination—it wasn’t anything new from the stares you received when you went to different ballet events around the world.

When you finally got to the record shop, you entered it with a smile. The scent in the store was comforting, homely at most. The first thing you noticed when you entered it was empty. To you, that wasn’t good considering that anyone could come in and take what they wanted and leave. You figured that the familiar bell that would annoyingly ring when the record shop door would push open would cause the employees to hurriedly run to the front of the store. You let your fingers brush against the records as you walk down a random aisle specifically looking for the classical section. You can already imagine how beautiful the tune of a popular classical song humming out the record player while you practice in the living room of Utahime’s place. But as you walk around the record shop, you didn’t even see a section for classical music. However, you did pick up a couple of your favorite R&B albums as you were snooping around.

You heard the familiar bell and your eyes darted to the door and you saw a man with long black hair carrying a box into the shop. He had gauges in his ears and if you were being honest, if you looked closely—he looked familiar. As if you saw him on a magazine cover or something. When his eyes met yours and then scanned over the shop, he let out a sigh before slowly dropping the box he was carrying near the register. “Welcome to Suguru Records, I’ll be right back.” He flashed you a kind smile before disappearing in the back.

You heard some ruckus in the back and what you assumed was the guy who greeted you voice, “I told you two gremlins to stop leaving the front end unattended!”

Soon the gentleman returned with two guys. He had a grip on the back of their work uniform shirts as if he was a father pitbull lifting his pups by their fur to help them get around better. One of the guys looked at the long-haired gentleman and gave him a deadpan smile, “It’s a slow day and it looks like the customer doesn't even need help. You said it yourself, if it’s slow—Choso and I can work on our music.” One said.

The man let go of the back of the two guys' shirts and he would push one of them towards you. “Noritoshi, you start unloading that box near the register. Choso, you go help the customer before I fire both of you.”

Noritoshi was near the register mumbling something under his breath before his boss glanced in his direction. “Do you have anything to say, Noritoshi?” The long-haired gentleman asked.

Noritoshi shook his head, “Oh no, just asking if you were stepping out again, Geto?” He forced a fake smile.

“Yes, an old friend is in town. So please be sure to lock up when we close.” Geto pointed his finger at him and then at Choso before he exited again.

You went back to looking through the records before you could hear someone clear your throat. When you glanced up, there he stood. The one who the guy called Choso, stood right in front of you. His hair was tugged into two ponytails. But it was one unique thing about him that caused you to stare at him as if he was the most attractive guy you’ve seen. A birthmark decorated his face that imprinted from his cheeks across his nose and on his other cheek. It was quite a unique birthmark, something you had never seen before. “Since that guy that just left signs my checks, I am here to ask if you need help with anything.” His monotone voice trailed off as he was avoiding as much eye contact as possible.

“Oh yes—do you guys have anything from any classical composers?” You asked and you watched Choso’s face scrunched up in pure disgust.

“Classical?” Choso asked.

“Yes, I’ll take anything at this moment.” You said. “My godmother has this record player and I just know a classical record would sound so good on it.”

“Classical?” Choso repeated just to make sure you understand what you just said.

“Yes, did I not say it loud enough?” You asked in a frustrated manner.

Choso held up his hand in a defensive mood and would glance over at Noritoshi who was unloading the box of new vinyl records they received. “Hey, check in the back to see if we have anything for the classical genre!”

“Classical?” Noritoshi looked up and you wanted to question if the two were related with the way Noritoshi mimicked the exact face of disgust that Choso did. “I think we have some stuff in the back though.”

Noritoshi waltzed into the back to search for the small number of vinyl records they did have. They weren’t selling, so Geto simply thought they were taking up space from other vinyl records.

You felt the vinyl records that were once in your arms getting gently pulled from your arm. Choso would flip through your options and you watched as he was looking at your vinyl records quite impressed. He held up the vinyl record for Lucky Daye’s Painted, he had a sly grin on his face. If you were bold enough, you would admit that sly grin on his face was cute.

“I have this one.” He said. “You have nice music taste, minus the classical thing.” He snickered before he handed you the records back.

“You don’t look like the type to like—“ Your words were cut off by him.

“Lucky Daye music?”

“Yes.” You admitted as you pulled your records closer to your chest.

“Music is something so magical and versatile. It’s a bit insane to stick to one genre isn’t it?” Choso asked as his back leaned against the record case behind him. His arms folded over his chest and you instantly noticed that his broad arms flexed in his black uniform shirt that had Suguru Records on it.

“But doesn't that contradict you making that face when I mentioned classical music?” You asked, your perfectly arched eyebrows raised at him.

He chuckles at your statement, “I guess it does…” His voice trails off as his dark-colored eyes gloss over your plump lip gloss-covered lips while he is searching for your name.

“Y/N.” You answered.

“I’m just curious as to why you would be interested in classical music?” Choso walked towards the register with you not too far behind him. “You don’t look like the type of girl who-“

Now it was your time to interrupt him, “See, you’re contradicting yourself again. You just said that music is such a special thing that you can’t just stick to one genre. Judging a book by its cover, something I did a few minutes ago.” You said.

Choso chuckled as he was beginning to ring up your vinyl records. “I guess we judged each other then.” Choso's eyes met with yours.

“Yup.” You answered before immediately breaking eye contact. Your cheeks felt so hot at the moment like you were standing outside in ninety-degree weather without water.

Noritoshi came back with a box of vinyl records. “These are the only ones we have. I’m pretty sure Geto put them at a discontinued price also.” He placed the box on the counter. “If we were the managers, we would give you this box for free.”

You giggled at his comment before flipping through the box. “It’s okay.” You picked three random types of vinyl and placed them on the counter. “I’m sure I’ll probably buy them all by the time the summer is over with.”

You paid for the records and Choso gave you the bag with all of them on it. It was a cute black reusable bag with the store’s logo on it. Choso leaned against the counter and placed his head in the palm of his hand, never actually taking his eyes off of you. There you were completely avoiding his eye contact.

Noritoshi was looking through the box of classical music vinyl records. “So, are you saying you actually enjoy this stuff?” He asked while flipping through the box of classical records.

“I’ve listened to that genre since I was in my mother’s stomach. It’s practically imprinted in my brain,” You admitted as you could feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

You quickly looked at the text and saw Utahime’s S.O.S text message. She must have needed you at the dance studio. “But I have to run, godmother needs me. I think I’ll see you guys around.” You began to walk towards the exit but Choso’s voice stopped you & caused you to turn to look in his direction.

“Yes, you will.” He admitted with a smile.

Your cheeks burnt, your words got stuck in your throat, and your brain turned into complete mush. You couldn’t say much, but you returned the smile before eventually leaving the record shop as flustered as a teenager in a cliche Netflix-produced romance movie.

“No distractions this summer, Y/N. No distractions this summer, Y/N.” You repeat to yourself as you are walking back towards Utahime’s place.

But as you continued to walk, you could hear someone yelling your name. When you turned around, Choso was jogging up to you to catch up to you.

“You should come out and see me perform,” Choso was fishing in his jeans pockets until he pulled out a tiny folded-up piece of paper.

“You’re a singer? You continue to shock me, but then again that’s me judging you by your looks again,” You admitted.

“I’m in a band. Well, it’s only Noritoshi and me right now. We’re still looking for other members, but I would love for you to come.” He finally unfolded the paper to reveal a flyer. He extended the paper for you to grab.

“I’ll see if I can make it. I’m going to be quite a busy girl this summer, so I don’t want to get your hopes up.” You said as you took the flyer from him. Your eyes scan over the flyer that looked like he kept it as a souvenir more than to promote that he was performing.

“You’re only going to be here for a summer?” Choso's eyebrows raised at you.

“Yeah.” You folded the paper back up to give back to him, but he motioned for you to keep it just in case you could make it.

Choso heard Noritoshi calling him from the front door of the record shop and he would slowly walk backward with a smile. His eyes you couldn’t read just yet never looked away from you before he’s parting his lips to speak.

“That gives us three months!” Choso says as he was walking backward.

“Three months to do what?” You asked out loud.

“Three months to get to know each. I’m kinda intrigued on why you’re a classical music fan in this year of 2022.” He yells back at you before giving you a sly wave and heading back into the record shop.

You turned around once again, flustered as ever. You couldn’t even hide the foolish smile on your face at the moment.

This was going to be an interesting summer.

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tags. @maydayaisha + @spiderpunkfien @bbytamaki @honeybleed @luvliv4lifexoxo @smileyy-cakee

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#choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #anime x reader #choso kamo x black reader #black reader #x black reader #jjk x black reader #angelshubnetwork #jjk smut #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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