#like in the photo and film and music industries

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I know it’s been said so many times before by people more experienced and insightful than me, but I don’t think it’s inherently taking jobs last minute that was the issue, because that’s the nature of jobs in their respective industries and they both understood that. Like, it sucks to have your partner leave for months at a time but you can’t begrudge them that especially when they’re still establishing themselves.

But it’s what happened at home that I would bet was ultimately their undoing. Because it’s one thing to take a job last minute and be like “sorry babe I’m going to miss x” but then still show up in other ways (communicative eg on the phone, showing up at home when you’re there, supporting your partner’s dreams and ambitions, etc.). But it’s another to a) keep chasing your own ambitions (fair, needed, healthy) but b) resent your partner for chasing theirs or belittle the things they find important.

I doubt Taylor expected Joe to follow her around everywhere and it wasn’t (just) the physical absence that hurt. It was the emotional absence that stung and made things untenable. (Based off songs like YLM and even Hits Different and just, you know, ~vibes~.) It’s the whole making time to make things work thing — it just seems like one person was making all the time and the other wasn’t in recent years. There could be a million reasons why and we may find out in TTPD.

Seeing how supportive Taylor is in general, I have no doubt she empathized with his need to work and encouraged him to do so. I just feel like what we’re seeing and going to learn about is that when the roles were reversed, that same support wasn’t extended (or not as unconditionally) and that was what started to make her feel smaller and smaller. And I have a feeling that same lack of support may have extended to personal plans as well.

[loguine-linguine]

Ok hear me out!!!

Steve is a musician who sings pop music and posts on TikTok. He’s kind of a C-ish list celebrity (definitely a bit of a nepo baby) and his music is poppy and catchy. It’s the kinda stuff that you can immediately tell is coming from someone who is actively holding things back/ isn’t writing from any truth. Mall music at its purest form. Then one day with no announcement Steve drops a double sided album that is like GOOD GOOD pop music. It’s also noted very quickly that the pronouns in all the songs have definitely switched to he/him. People freak out and he starts charting for the first time in his career. Kinda Chappell Roan-esque situation where he skyrockets to being a queer pop icon very very quickly.

He starts doing interviews. He shows up to these interviews in outfits aren’t dramatically changed from what he usually wore (polos, jeans, bomber jackets, 80s jock vibes) but it’s all just much more camp. The cropped shirts are shorter, the jeans are tighter, and the colors are all suddenly pastel. He has also started wearing makeup (not heavy makeup but it’s definitely a lipgloss, eyeliner, mascara, highlight/blush on the tip of his nose type situation). He shares that he dropped his old producer (who he had been set up with by his father) and that he’s now working with his best friend Robin. He comes out as gay, talks about his struggle with comp-het, and proudly shares that he is super excited to contribute to the growing movement of music that is being written by queer people, for queer people. His TikTok also blows up.

This is when Tommy Hagan first starts showing up. Tommy is an actor who is pretty well known for doing teen drama TV shows (like Riverdale type deals). He introduces himself to Steve at some sort of industry event right after Steve gets big and pretty quickly starts showing up in his TikTok videos. It comes out that the two are dating pretty quickly after that. They date off and on for about a year and a half. Tommy is a shitty enough boyfriend that even Steve’s fans don’t like him. He stands him up for dates, embarrasses him at events, says rude and dismissive things about his music, etc. Robin (who is also kinda famous by proxy/writes her own music now similar to Billie Eilish and Finneas) absolutely hates his guts. Publicly. They finally break up officially after Tommy cheats on Steve with an actress named Carol who is on a show with him. It gets exposed by the tabloids and Steve finds out by seeing a photo of them making out on one of those celebrity drama TikTok accounts.

Eddie is also getting famous around this same time. He’s the lead for Corroded Coffin and also starts acting occasionally in horror films. He doesn’t really pay much attention to other celebrities or the drama that goes on. He was never into that kind of thing before the band took off so he doesn’t see why he should now. Eddie and the rest of the band are at an awards show of some sort and the others make fun of him the whole time. He can’t stop staring at this absolutely beautiful man sitting at a table near them. “The guy is wearing a slutty little lace shirt, the tightest pants in existence, and has skin that looks like honey and caramel had a child Gareth you really can’t blame me honestly.” Steve and Eddie don’t officially meet until the after party where they immediately hit it off.

A few months later Steve announces a new album and releases a single. It’s just Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter but gay and clearly about Tommy.

The music video comes out and people loose their minds. It’s the same sort of video as what Sabrina Carpenter just released for Please Please Please with the stunning outfits and the whole bad boy thing. Steve spends the whole video in dresses and skirts. There’s even a corset at one point. The bigger freak out is the fact that the Barry Keoghan equivalent is Eddie and its a hard launch of their relationship that fans had absolutely zero clue was even a possibility because why would horror/metal man Eddie Munson even know Steve Harrington???? Robin and the Corroded Coffin guys think the whole thing is hilarious. Eddie and Steve are so so happy :)

[httpsuniverse]

right where you left lover girl [ charles leclerc , ben chilwell ]

[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — charles leclerc x singer!ex!reader ; ben chilwell x singer!reader . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °.   *

[ 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — mostly angst, some romance . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °.   *

࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ clearing my drafts again 😵‍💫 if you ask me, i’m obsessed with singer!reader fics lol

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

cleclercsource

26,929 likes

cleclercsource double date in wimbledon 🎾 charles, alex, kika and pierre spotted in today’s game!

view all 2,719 comments

user alex looks so pretty and i know she’s nice because i met her once, but i miss y/n ☹️

user :(( i do too, but it’s just not meant to be. they both want different things and are in different places in the relationship

user damn why did THAT hurt

user no offense/hate towards alex but the fact that y/n and charles have been together since they were thirteen just...pains me and i’m not even part of their relationship

user me too!! 😭 they literally went through ups and downs together and saw their careers go big :(

user yeah but i hate to break it to you guys but it’s been two years since they broke up and charles being in a new relationship is okay, they’re both adults! i mean, you guys know that eventually they’ll meet somebody, no?

user what pains me the most is that y/n hasn’t released anything since she and charles broke hp 😣💔 i miss my girl

user they look like mean girls

user i would be scared to walk past them

user love how alex is just happy to be there hahaha she’s so cute

yourusername

liked by yourlabel, sabrinacarpenter, selenagomez and 3,286,048 others

yourusername oh hi hello 👋🏻 i know it’s been a while since i’ve last released music and contributed to the industry, and i see everyone’s tweets saying how much they miss me and guess what? i missed you guys too, so here’s a little something for being so patient with me🤎 this song is very personal and important to me and i hope you’ll love it just how i loved writing it. right where you left me is now available to all streaming platforms 🎶

view all 150,837 comments

sabrinacarpenter 🫶 masterpiece

selenagomez proud of you✨😍

user omg y/n!!!

user the queen is back :( welcome back y/n!!

user streaming right NOW

user you cant do this to me y/n y/l/n!!!!!!!

user just got out of a 4-year relationship today, thanks for the masterpiece maam <3

yourusername 🤎 wish you all the best with healing

user OMG

user thanks y/n, now i do have a reason to cry today 😍

yourusername stopp bahahaha enjoyyy

prodbymika

250,297 likes

prodbymika glad to have produced another song and film a music video with my bestie 🫶 here’s some behind the scenes of y/n during recording and filming the music video of right where you left me <3

view all 17,926 comments

yourusername mika my love!!! ☹️🤎 thank youu couldn’t have done it without youuuu 🫶

user wait that place on the 3rd photo is familiar

user it’s charles and y/n’s place from their 24 hour with vogue video 😭

user omfg that’s probably why it’s titled right where you left me 😭

user the 😭 restaurant 😭 she 😭 and 😭 charles 😭 loved 😭

user fuck me im trying to move on 😭

user y/n wearing the same clothes she would wear during date nights with charles 💔☹️

yourprivate

yourprivate i know eventually it will lead to one of us meeting someone new. i hope she’ll love you the way that i did, more than how i loved you, charles. and i can’t believe that it’s been two years since we broke up. in my mind i’m still 23, living in my own delusion that one day you’ll come back to me. i loved you, charles_leclerc. and i still do. i really meant it when i said i wish you both the best. now, it’s time for me to move on and leave the place where you left me.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────────────────

yourusername

1,926,472 likes

yourusername me doing big girl things 😄 bye bye monaco 🇲🇨, hello london 🇬🇧 ready to make new memories, new songs and of course, new apartment tour video soon :p

view all 1,827 comments

user omggggggg the chances of me running to you are HIGHHHHH

yourusername see you aroundddd <3

user AAAAAAA

user omg omg omg she’s finally out of her delusions, we’re officially over right were you left me era !!!!!!

user she finally let go of the house she and charles shared 😭

user no bc imagine the adjustment!! she lived there even when she and charles broke up :(

user my girl can finally FINALLY breathe

benchilwell

liked by masonmount, reecejames, judebellingham and others

benchilwell you’re my, my, my, my lover 🩷

view all 23,816 comments

jackgrealish mate, that’s so cheesy 😂

reecejames i know something you don’t 🤧

masonmount i know something you will never know 😂

user NAHHHH QUIT PLAYING WITH US

user NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

user cong😭ratu😭lations😭

user now who is the lucky woman 🤔

user wait is that y/n

user what the hell

user i think soo!!!!

user STOP IM GONNA FUCKING CRY RN

yourusername

liked by cmpulisic, reecejames, masonmount, benchilwell and others

yourusername guys meet my london boy 🩷

view all 28,493 comments

benchilwell i told you not to post that picture of me

yourusername 😵‍💫 but you looked so cute and you helped me compose a song

masonmount he did? 😨

yourusername took us a while, but yep 🫡

user im so happy for you y/n!!!!

— ❤️ by yourusername

user why is y/n, a person who loves chinese food, dating a man who hasn’t eaten chinese food

yourusername don’t worry, i bought chinese the other day. he’s no longer chinese food virgin. i took his virginity.

benchilwell y/n y/l/n.

yourusername 😚 you liked it though

benchilwell okay fine yeah

user why do i feel like a new album will come out ...

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, benchilwell, prodbymika and 4,836,917 others

yourusername suprise (well... not so surprise haha) !! been working on this album the past year and it’s finally here and i can’t wait to share it with you guys so HERE YA GO 🩷😚 the whole album is dedicated to, of course, my lover, my benji, benchilwell i love youuuu and this album is my love letter to you (you spoiled the lyrics on your previous post 🙄 but its ok i forgive u now pls come back faster bc i miss u) enjoy everyone ! lover girl, y/n 🩷✨

view all 56,826 comments

benchilwell i love you angel 🩷

yourusername stopp im shy i miss you

benchilwell 😂 im coming over

user y/n in her lover era 🥹 happy for her, she deserves this!

user she really does 🥹

user STOPPP THIS WJOLE ALBUM IS JUST Y/N AND BEN BEING IN LOVENWITH EACH OTHER

user “all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing” BENJAMIN JAMES CHILWELL YOU ONE LUCKY MF

user y/n is SO in love i’m here for it

charles_leclerc congratulations on another amazing album, y/n!

yourusername thank you charles! 🫶

user HEY WHAT IS MR. RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME DOING HERE

user ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

yourusername we’re still friends guys, chill 😂

sabrinacarpenter YOU ARE AMAZING, Y/N

yourusername SAAAABBBB i love you ,, you are amazing

user from right where you left me to paper rings 🥺 THE GLOW UP

[gretavangroupie]

Exposure

Word count: 11.3k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking. Smut: Kissing, Stripping, Photo Exhibitionism, Touching, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Oral M!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Oh! Didn't see you there! Happy February! Welcome to the very first installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy this first story in the set of four. We can't wait to share the rest with you! See you real soon!

You pull your jacket snug against your chest, your camera bag hanging heavy on your shoulder as you make the trek up to the front door of the house. You can hear music coming from the basement already, likely the bands warming up before the show starts. You sneak through the front door, breezing through the mostly empty house in search of the basement. Following the noise, you walk down the stairs and into a small swarm of people all bustling and busy trying to get things set up before the show. How you got roped into shooting a basement show on Valentine's day of all days is beyond you, although it’s not like you have anything better to do.

Your eyes search around for any sign of your friends but you know they’re probably either running late, which is not shocking, or busy unloading their gear outside. You typically never shoot events like this- well, this small, but a favor for your best friend was long overdue. You stand at a small table loading the film into your camera, her one begging request of her set being captured on film, about to be fulfilled. You look around for any other photographers but you see no one, and it’s then that you realize just how small of a gig this really is. 

You did your best to blend in tonight, donning the industry standard of black, but realizing now that it almost wouldn’t have mattered what you wore. You kept it simple with a black long sleeve shirt, and a pair of black leather pants, adding a heeled boot to give yourself a little extra height behind the lens. 

You grab an extra roll of film and shove it into your pants pocket before placing your camera bag beneath the stage for safe keeping. People are quickly starting to fill the small basement, and you’re thankful for this weeks’ cold snap, knowing that this basement would be sweltering otherwise. You pull your phone from your pocket checking for any signs of life from your friends, laughing as you see a ‘we’re running late’ text. Shaking your head you put your phone back in your pocket and start to check your settings, adjusting to the lowlight of the room.

The basement is fully packed at this point, the first band stepping on to the stage and starting things off with a blaring guitar intro. The lights dim even further, causing you to adjust your settings again, and you wonder if you need to grab your flash attachment. You feel a tap on your shoulder, a rush of nerves in your chest as you spin around to see who it could be. 

“Are you shooting film?” A pair of dark brown eyes asks, a look of genuine curiosity painted across the irises. 

You smile and hold up your camera, “Yeah, I am! How did you know?” 

A smile sweeps across his face, his long dark hair hanging well past his shoulders, but partially obscured under a red beanie. His cheeks are flushed red, either from the cold outside, the alcohol in his system, or the weight of his cable knit sweater. “I’m a bit of a hobbyist. Specifically film. I recognized your camera.”

“You did? This thing is pretty old.” you say, pulling your hair from beneath your camera strap. 

“Yeah, I have the same one. Mines the silver version though.” he says, leaning in closely so that you can hear him over the loud music. 

You look up at him, and nod, leaning back in towards him as you respond. “Oh really? Does yours have the battery door issue?”

His hand lays softly against your shoulder as he leans in closer, ready to respond but your attention is ripped away as you see your friends in your peripheral. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry, my friends just walked in and they are actually supposed to go on next.” you say holding up your camera to show your purpose of being here in the first place. 

“You’re fine, go ahead.” he smiles, pulling away from you and taking a sip from his seltzer. 

You send him a soft smile, taking a final look at him before turning to meet your friends. As you walk up to meet them you can’t help but to look over to where you were just standing, finding the mystery man gone. You scan the room as your friends talk at you, looking for any sight of him, but you’re snapped back to the present as they are called up to the stage. 

With a hug from your best friend and a kiss on the cheek she darts up the small stairs with a smile. “Wish us luck! And make sure you get my good side!”  

You make your way towards the front of the stage, checking your settings one more time as the band starts to play. Admittedly, they sound a lot better than they did the last time you saw them perform, and the crowd behind you really seems to be into them. You even notice a few people wearing their merch and wonder when that happened. Had you really been that absent?

You duck down as you work your way across the front of the stage, snapping photos of your friends as they play their hearts out. You quietly apologize to the people you block with your camera, taking a quick glance behind you with each step you take. About two songs into their set you’ve made your way to the opposite side of the stage, looking behind you only to catch a glance of your mystery guy, standing against the wall with his drink. 

You try to pretend you didn’t see him, but it’s no use as you trip over an electrical cord and make a complete spectacle of yourself in the process. However, when you don't collide with the concrete of the basement floor and instead are met with a pair of warm steady hands, you feel a sigh of relief hoping that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t see you trip after all. Turning to face your hero, you’re met with none other than your hobbyist.

A grin spreads across his face as he helps you to stand, one hand in his, and the other firmly planted on your camera. 

“Falling for me so soon? At least tell me your name first…” he jokes, letting go of you as you steady yourself on your feet. 

“Y/N…And thanks, I– guess they ran out of Gaff tape and I found the only cord not taped down.” you laugh. 

He smiles and shakes his head in faux disgust, “Rule number one, always carry an extra roll in your gig box for the ladies. I’m Sam, by the way.” 

“Well, Sam, thank you for not letting me fall in front of all of these people.” you laugh. 

“Oh, I was actually saving the camera… Precious vintage...” he winks, pursing his lips together. 

“Oh, of course. Yeah.” you stammer, suddenly feeling ridiculous. 

As if he can sense your distress he places a hand on your arm, “Wait no, I was kidding. Of course I was saving you. Let me– Can I get you a drink?” he asks, trying for a peace offering. 

“I think I’m kinda out of hands…” you laugh, snapping a photo as you focus through the viewfinder. 

“I’m not…” he counters, “Whad’ya want? I’ll grab it for you…”

You lick over your lips, deciding maybe a drink assistant wouldn’t be too bad. You turn over your shoulder as he leans close letting you talk into his ear. “A seltzer, I don’t care what flavor, surprise me.”

He gives you an understanding nod and turns on his heels, disappearing into the crowd.

You watch your friends start to close up their set and you compose another set of photos you think will be the shots of the night. 

“A drink for the lady…” he says, as he holds a drink up in front of the lens. You lower your camera and spin around to grab it from him, watching him crack the lid open before he hands it to you. 

“Prickly pear, huh…” you pause, taking a sip of the fizzy drink. “Did you know that was my favorite or just a lucky guess?”

“Well, I figured… you have great taste in cameras…” he trails off, taking the drink back from you so you can continue to shoot. 

You feel him lean into your shoulder, his warm breath on your neck. “The red light really does nothing for photos, does it…” he laughs. 

“No, and I’m half convinced that’s why they do it.” you retort. 

“Oh, it definitely is. Trust me. That and it looks badass.” he laughs, stepping back again. 

As the set ends you watch your friends leave the stage, ready to drink and party with the rest of you. The room quiets to a dull roar as the next band starts to take the stage, ready to set up their equipment. You lower your camera around your neck, letting it hang freely as you turn back to Sam. 

“You get the shot?” he asks, sipping the same Prickly Pear Topo Chico. 

“I think so, looks like I’ve got…” you pause, checking your dial. “Two left on this roll. Should probably change over before the next act. Here, smile.” you say, holding the viewfinder to your eye. 

He blushes a little, holding both of the drinks in his hands and giving you wide open mouth smile. 

You capture those last two images and hear the winder start to spin. “That’ll do it!” you say, dropping your camera around your neck and pulling the extra black film cartridge from your pocket. 

“Oh here, let me help you. You have your drink…” he offers, holding out your can. 

“No! You don’t have to do that, it’s totally fine, I’ve got it. Just need to find a table or something so I can–”

“I know I don’t have to, I just– want to. I wanna help.” he says, his eyes sweet and genuine. 

You think about it for a second, and consider that you really don’t have anything to lose. He wouldn’t be offering if he didn’t know what he was doing. 

“Okay, sure, I’ll hold your drink now.” you smile.  

His eyes are focused as he works to remove the used film, replacing it with the new roll as quickly and efficiently as he can, making sure not to expose the roll. He clips the door shut and makes sure it's secure before placing the camera strap back over your head, pulling your hair out from beneath the straps as gently as possible. 

“There. Perfect.” he says, a warm smile on his lips. 

“Thanks Sam.” you answer, offering his drink back to him. 

“You can call me Sammy. All my friends do.” he says, accepting the wet can. 

“Oh, are we friends now?” you ask playfully, all the while thinking that you might want to be a little more than that. 

“I’d like to think so. Or– I hope so. I think you’re cute, film camera girl.”

“Do you?” you murmur, holding the can to your lips. 

As if feeling a little shy, he ducks his head a little and licks his lips, “I do.”

Before you can reciprocate his sentiment the third band starts, and somehow they are even louder than your friend's band previously. The drums are blaring loud and you can tell they need their mics turned down about three notches. You take a few photos, figuring you can never have too much in your portfolio, but after a few shots and the crowd becoming a little too rowdy, you quickly decide you are done ‘working’ for the night. You lower your camera down and spin to talk to Sam, but you find he’s gone.

Your eyes scan the crowd for him, but again, you see no trace of the cream colored sweater or his red beanie in the sea of people. You do, however, spot your best friend off in the corner of the room being hit on by someone you know to be exactly her type. You lock eyes with her, raising a brow and she just smiles at you as she continues to talk to the tall dark haired man. 

Letting her have her time with him, you make your way back to the stage to grab your camera bag. You head up the stairs, grabbing a new drink from the bar area and again searching for any signs of him. You mingle with a few strangers, making pointless small talk about work and the latest gossip before excusing yourself to the bathroom to pee. As you wash your hands you sigh at the missed connection with such a thoughtful and good looking guy, but chalk it up to being Valentine’s Day and not wanting to fall into that stereotype. 

With your new friend gone, you decide to seek out some of your old ones. With your gear bag slung over your shoulder, you head towards the thick crowd in the main living room. As you make your way through, your neck cranes around the bodies in your way, searching for a familiar face. Looking out the back window, you see your friends near their band’s van. You push open the squeaky screen door and are greeted with a harsh gust of freezing cold wind. You retract, and before you can regain your senses, you hear someone calling your name from a little ways away. 

When you get your eyes open, Sam is standing against the side of the house, exhaling a puff of smoke. He’s giving you a sweet, closed lipped smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. You feel a few butterflies in your stomach as you take in his sweet face, relieved that he’s happy to see you hasn’t disappeared like you thought. You approach him with a sweet smile, holding on to your bag strap with both hands while your main camera hangs around your neck.

“It’s cold as fuck out here.” You say honestly, suppressing a grin. He nods, taking another inhale off the cigarette between his fingers, his smile making it a little difficult. “I thought you left.” you add while he exhales the smoke away from your face.

“What, without you?” He says with a quirked brow and a playful smolder. You laugh, stunned silent by his charisma. He realizes and laughs it off, reaching towards you. “You need a hand taking that stuff to your car?” He asks, dropping his cigarette onto the lawn and stepping on it. He offers you a hand and you willingly offer up your bag, even though you really don’t need to. 

“I didn’t really feel the need to get any more photos of the third band. I didn’t think the headache was worth it.” You say, a little tongue in cheek as you walk. Sam laughs loudly once, like it slipped out, then shakes his head looking at the ground in front of him. 

“I was trying not to be too judgmental but, yeesh. They’re really something, aren’t they?” You laugh and pop open your trunk and he sees inside as he puts your bag in.

“You have a Pentax too?” He asks, seeing the other bag you left in the trunk.

“I do. I have a couple lenses for it, I use it when I shoot… bigger stuff.” You say, not trying to sound braggy. 

“That sucker is heavy though. You must be jacked if you’re holding it up for an entire show.” He jokes, reaching for your bicep and squeezing twice. You flex a little, giving him a wink before you break character and laugh with him. You pull your camera from around your neck and slip it into its case.

“No but, I uh, I have a couple lenses too. I have a pretty big collection… It’s actually getting a bit out of hand at this point. If you ever want to borrow anything...” He mentons, helping you close the trunk. When he reaches up, his sweater rides up a bit and reveals that he’s got a white shoestring laced through the loops of his pants like a belt.

“I’d love to check it out,” you say honestly, rubbing your arms to try and warm up. The wind is brutal but the conversation is worth freezing for.

“This may be a bit forward… but the weather sucks, this music sucks… We could go have a drink at my place and I could show you?” He offers, shrugging a little bit. 

“Well…” you start, looking over at the van on the other side of the yard. Your friend seems to be deep in conversation with the guy who was helping her load up, so you’re sure she won’t miss you if you slip away. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.” 

“Two things, though. One, we have to take your car, since my friend was my ride. Two, I’m driving, because you’ve had a few.” He says, giving you a boyish smile and holding out his hands so you can put the keys in them. You eye him with playful suspicion for a moment, but then figure you’ve got nothing to lose. 

“Fine.” You flick open your car key and offer it to him between two fingers with a grin. 

As he gets in, you can’t help but micromanage his actions with your car as you buckle your seatbelt. “The emergency brake is down by your left foot, and just ignore the light on the dash.” 

“I guess I should have told you that I have, indeed, driven a car before. I’m qualified.” He says, starting it and adjusting the mirrors. He’s a good bit taller than you, so he cranks the rearview upwards quite a bit. You roll your eyes at his comment, letting the radio play quietly rather than anything from your phone for fear of judgment. 

“There aren’t any street lights on these back roads. You should put the high beams on.” You comment, looking over at him for a moment, taking in his side profile. He cracks a wry smirk and flourishes his hand, turning them on.

“You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?” He asks, not looking away from the road. You snicker softly.

“When I want to be.” 

Before he can say anything in response, his phone starts to buzz in the center console. He reaches for it, swiping quickly across the screen to answer the call from a contact named Danny.

“Daniel!” He shouts, putting the phone on speaker. Without hesitation, you take it from him so he can use both of his hands and drive. He doesn’t object as the voice from the other end of the phone pipes up.

“Where’d you get off to?” 

“Uh, I left. Are you good to get home?” Sam answers, flipping the brights off when a car drives by on the opposite side of the road. He puts them back on once the coast is clear.

“I’m fine, yeah, just checking in. Didn’t know you left. You bag that chick you were chatting with?”

You huff a laugh and look over to Sam shaking your head. Is this really how guys talk on the phone?

“Daniel, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell…” he jokes, sending you a wink.

“Right, are you going to that event tomorrow?”

“I had forgotten about it until this very second, but yeah. I said I would. Are you?” Sam says, and you pick up a bit of an accent. There’s a long A in forgotten where the second O should go. You smile softly as you watch the road and listen to them talk. 

“Hell no. Neither is Jake. You’re stuck with Josh and his girl. So, have fun with that.” Daniel says, and you can hear him getting into his car on the other end of the line. 

“Fuck. Alright, get home safe.” Sam says, sighing. They end the call and you’re more than tempted to ask him the meaning of all that, but he’s pulling into his driveway and the nerves start to take over, shutting you up. “Sorry about that,” he says, parking your car in his driveway next to his own. 

“Do you live by yourself?” You ask, getting out of the passenger seat. The wind is still strong and it chills you to the bone. Sam sees and picks up his pace as he leads you to the front door.

“Yeah, it’s just me.” he says, looking over his shoulder as he puts his key in the door. It’s warmly lit inside his house once he steps inside and flips on the lights. There’s an array of musical instruments scattered about as soon as you enter, amps and drums and guitars either hanging on the wall or resting against each other. You raise your brows, looking over at him.

“You’re a musician, too?” You ask as he puts your keys on the cabinet near the front door. There are sliding doors across the front that are opened just slightly to reveal a substantial vinyl collection. 

“I have many hobbies.” 

You smile as you follow him through the house, looking around at the art covering his walls. It smells like incense and it’s warm- a little warmer than you would keep your house, but it’s cozy. 

“I keep everything in here,” he starts, flipping on the lightswitch in one of the bedrooms. It’s furnished with a daybed, like a guest bedroom, but the opposite wall has a desk and shelving full of cameras, cases, lenses, accessories, attachments galore. You raise your brows, surprised, but mostly impressed.

It’s a solid half hour that you spend going item by item, gently looking over everything he’s collected, from vintage to like-new, functioning and under repair. He makes a point to tell you where he got each one, the quirks and intricacies of them all. 

“That one’s really my favorite for portraits,” he says as you look over a lightweight film camera with a noisy lens, clicks filling the room. “She’s got a way about her that makes everyone look good, you know?” You nod, looking it over, peeking through the viewfinder.

“I dunno, I might be a lost cause.” You say, a little self deprecating. He sucks his teeth at you in playful disappointment.

“I just mean that, you know, as photographers, there aren’t many photos of us. I don’t think I’d know how to pose myself for a portrait.” 

“Well, you don’t pose yourself, silly.” He says, looking up at you, not lifting his head and moving only his eyes. There’s a little smirk on his lips. “We should try it.”

You give him a suspicious look, laughing nervously. 

“I look like a mess from the wind and… I’m hardly wearing any makeup..” You say, starting to rattle off excuses as your cheeks heat up.

“So? You look perfect. I don’t want to take… fuckin’ headshots. I want to capture you. This version of you, the pretty photographer that I’ve spent my evening with.” 

The two of you lock eyes for a moment, his honeyed irises so warm and kind and sweet that you probably can’t say no to him if your life depended on it.

“Okay.” 

That’s how you end up in his sunroom, sitting patiently on his couch as he gets set up, sipping a glass of wine. The room is full of plants and you brush your hand against the burnt orange velvet upholstery of his couch underneath you. You watch him move around the room, pushing the ottoman out of the way, adjusting the throw pillows on the opposite end. He reaches behind his head and pulls his thick sweater off, his shirt riding up to show that little shoestring belt and this time, a light dusting of hair above the waistband of his pants. He tosses aside the sweater, leaving him in a white t-shirt. You swallow a gulp of your wine, feeling a little warm.

“I like how you said, ‘as photographers,’ like you looped me in there with you,” he muses. “You’re a professional. I don’t belong in the ranks with you.” He says, grinning as he uses an app on his phone to mess with the lighting from the lamp in the room. It’s a hazy, warm light when he’s done, absolutely flattering to the eye, so you can only imagine how it’s going to look when he captures you.

“If you take pictures, and you enjoy it, you’re a photographer. I don’t think it’s fair to gate keep art of any kind, or… something that brings people joy, you know?” You say, watching as he grabs a cream colored, cable knit throw reminiscent of his sweater and drapes it behind you. 

“That makes sense. Not all photographers are as humble as you, though.” He says, looking down at the camera and making some adjustments. He holds it up and looks at you, then he pulls it away. He looks again, then he hums like he’s thinking about something.

“This black shirt is kind of one-dimensional. I feel like it’s swallowing you up, you know? I feel like there's too much contrast with the colors in the room.” 

You sip your wine and think for a moment, looking around. He’s probably right. 

“What do you think about green?” you ask, leaning forward, placing the wine glass on the table in front of you. 

“Do you have another– oh…” he starts, but is effectively silenced when you start to pull your shirt over your head. Underneath, you’re in a sage green longline bralette, the band of lace under your chest covering a good two inches of your waist. It’s not too revealing and from the shoulders up, it probably looks like a shirt. You shake out your hair and look up at him, tossing your shirt aside.

“Does that look better?” You ask, smirking at his reaction, pretending to be all business. He looks at you through the viewfinder and you hear him clear his throat.

“Much better. Yep. Uh huh.” he says, hiding his face behind the camera, but you know he’s looking at you. “Sit up for me?” 

You adjust the way you’re sitting, sitting up straighter. He lets the camera hang around his neck as he approaches you, reaching out to gently position you. He puts your hand in your lap, then gently pushes some hair behind your shoulder. The other side, he wraps around his finger once, making sure it lays in a flattering way. He looks at you, not scrutinizing you, but deciding what he wants to do with you. His touch makes you feel like you’re on fire, his hands warm and so gentle, his motions purposeful and confident despite the delicate way he handles you.

He crouches down in front of you, holding the camera to his eye, and you feel a wave of panic wash over you. You suddenly feel exposed in front of the lens, and it must be evident on your face as he moves his finger from the shutter release and lowers the camera from his eye. “You feel nervous.” he states with the nod of his head. 

You shrug ever so slightly, finally feeling the nerves your clients tend to feel. You try to shake it off, but Sam, ever perceptive, pulls the camera from around his neck and sits it next to you on the couch. He pulls his own shirt over his head, leaving him in the same state of undress as you are. “There. Even?” he asks with a cheeky smile. 

You smile and nod, doing your best not to stare at the small smattering of a happy trail at the top of his pants. You bite your lips together before looking back into the lens, hearing the shutter click and the film wind. He brings his hand up to your chin, tilting your face to the side with the gentle touch of his index finger. He pulls it back quickly, returning to the shutter button and snapping another photo. He hums from his place behind the lens, standing quickly and scanning the room for something. 

His heavy footfall pads across the room, snatching something from his piano bench before returning to his place on the floor in front of you. In his hands is a multicolored jewel tone pashmina, soft and worn, and clearly a staple in his wardrobe. 

“Can we try this?” he asks, holding it up against your skin. 

“Let me see…” you answer, grabbing it and draping it over your chest. With your torso completely covered you reach beneath it, pulling the green bralette over your head as he watches you with wide eyes. You toss it to the floor next to him, and reposition the fabric to just cover your chest as you lean back into the couch. 

He swallows nervously as he stretches up towards the couch, adjusting the fabric how he sees fit. Your stomach shows beneath the edge of colorful fabric, the curve of your breast just peeking from the top. 

“I– I think this is gonna be a good shot.” he says, looking at you through the lens. “Lean your head back a little more, and turn it to the side, just a touch.” 

You follow his instruction, knowing the angles of this shot have to be incredible from his place on the floor. 

“Perfect, I just…Didn’t want any shadows on your throat…” he whispers from behind the camera. You hear the shutter click, and a murmur of ‘fuck’ leave his lips. 

You stay where you are as he lowers the camera, his breathing picking up a little bit as he tries to remain calm. “Your skin is so…pretty…” he breathes, letting his eyes sweep over you. 

Your eyes connect with his, and in an act of insanity you pull away the pashmina, letting it pool at your side. His eyes can’t help but to flick down to your chest, his jaw dropping slightly before he notices and looks back up at your eyes. 

“We don’t have to–”

“Do you not want to?” you ask, settling back onto the couch. 

“No, I very much do.” he answers a little too quickly. 

“So go ahead. Capture me.”

He takes a deep breath, holding the camera to his eye and lowering it back down. He grabs your hand and places it gingerly over your chest, letting your fingers rest just over your nipple. He brings the camera back to his eye, and takes the photo. “Fuck you’re gorgeous.”

Your cheeks blush and you hear the shutter click again. 

“Sorry, but I think that's the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.” he says. 

You smile and shake your head, letting your hand trail to the button of your pants. You slide the button through the loop and pull the long zipper, until just the smallest glimpse of your thong is visible. 

You watch him swallow nervously again, focusing the camera on your hand as it lays across your stomach. As he captures the photo, you watch him try to recenter himself, knowing that he is probably just as turned on by this as you are, if not more. 

“Take them off…” you suggest, watching his eyes flick up to yours. 

“You sure?” he asks again, making sure you’re still comfortable. 

“Very. If you are, I mean.” 

“Lay across the couch. On your stomach.” he instructs, moving himself to sit on the edge of the chaise to your left. You position yourself against the plush couch, propping yourself up on your elbows, as you look back at him sitting behind you. 

“Yeah, just like that. Stay there. Look at me, beautiful.” he says, growing more confident. 

He leans forward, swiping your hair over your shoulder, giving him an unobstructed view of the curve of your back. And just as your eyes connect with the lens, he presses the button. 

“Perfect.” he breathes, lowering the camera again. He stands from his place behind you, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, pulling them gently down your hips until they rest at the apex of your ass. Your thong is fully visible now, only the floral lace resting against your hips. 

He moves back and you feel the couch dip as he kneels behind you, straightening the seam of the pants to rest perfectly in the center, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. You feel the goosebumps rise, and you hear the shutter, smiling as you know he’s caught the moment. 

“Are you always this responsive to touch…” he asks, sliding your pants further down over your ass, pulling each leg free until the leather fabric is in a pile on the floor. 

“No. Only when it’s really good…” you answer. 

“Lift your hips up for me, rest on your knees a little, and arch your back.” he says, kneeling on the edge of the couch. His hand slides down your back to assist you, and slides back up, stopping at the hem of your panties. Two fingers hook into the fabric, pulling it down just slightly as you hear the camera shutter. 

You can feel your arousal between your legs, not too far from where his fingers linger, but he releases your panties, sliding them back into place and letting his hand drift over the curve of your ass. He stands up in front of you, and you drop back down, stretching fully across the couch. You lay your head on your hands as you look up at him, watching him crouch down in front of you. He pulls a few pieces of hair over your shoulder, and moves your arm further up to reveal the swell of your breast as it presses against his couch cushion. 

“Pop your hips up just a touch...” he breathes, holding the camera to his eye. “Look at me, baby.”

You bat your eyes as you look at him, seeing the photo in the reflection of the lens as he takes it. 

His chest is heaving as he pulls the camera away, crawling towards you on his knees as he dusts his fingers over your spine. “You make an incredible muse…”

“A good photographer knows that seeing isn’t enough. You have to feel it.” you answer, melting into the feeling of his skin on yours. 

“I think I feel it too much…”

He slides his hand down your arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to a sitting position. He reaches for your wine glass, turning back to you and placing it into your hand. You bring it to your lips, but as you tip the glass a stream of red wine trickles down the stem, dripping rapidly onto your stomach. 

His eyes flick to yours, then down to the small streak of red against your skin, leaning his head forward and letting his warm tongue lap at the spilled alcohol. 

Your eyes close on their own, a breath leaving your lips at the feeling of his lips on your body. He pulls back from you, waiting for your eyes to open, and as they meet you can see he’s asking for permission to continue. 

You open your legs allowing him to move closer, and he takes that as his consent to move between them. He pulls the camera from around his neck, placing it gently on the couch next to you, before grabbing your wine glass and placing it on the coffee table behind him. 

His hands slide up your thighs, his eyes examining every inch of your skin until he meets the edge of your panties. His eyes meet yours and you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on your skin again. 

He hooks his fingers through the fabric and pulls them over your hips, tossing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He takes in a deep breath, lowering his face to your heat, but never breaking the eye contact he has with you. You let a hand slide through his silky waves, silently telling him you wanted this, and he obliges, pressing a kiss to your groin. 

You feel his tongue swipe up through your center, long and slow, hot and soft against you. You fist his hair at the contact, a hum leaving his lips as they vibrate against your clit. Your legs open wider, allowing him to hook his arms beneath your legs, pulling you down the couch to meet his mouth. His tongue works at your clit, flicking back and forth as wet sounds fill the air in the room. His cheeks are flushed as his wet lips suction around you, his brown eyes fluttering closed with every pointed lick. 

You can hardly tear your gaze away from him, your chest heaving as he brings you closer and closer to your release. Your hand reaches out to grip into the cushion, instead landing on the body of the camera next to you. It feels cold against your hand, and as you look at him you realize you might feel it a little too much, too. 

Grasping it in your hand you pull the viewfinder to your eye, positioning him in the frame as he continues to work you towards your orgasm. As his eyes flick up to you, he's met with the camera lens, hesitating momentarily before pulling an elastic from his wrist. He doesn’t cease his actions as he pulls his hair into a messy bun, resting low on the back of his neck. He places his soft hands on the insides of your thighs, looking up into the lens with his blissed out eyes, ready for you to capture the scene below you. 

Hearing the shutter, he grips into you harder, sucking your clit into his mouth with more force, desperate to get you there. His fingers brush your entrance, and with a carefully timed swipe of his tongue he presses them forward until his thumb replaces his tongue applying pressure to your clit. His fingers work inside of you until your legs start to shake with desperation. He replaces his thumb with his lips once more, the warm, wet sensation inching you closer and closer. 

You take a few more shots, hoping to capture the way his dark lashes kiss his cheeks, and the way his nose brushes against you so delicately. Knowing the most vulnerable shots are usually the best. 

He ruts his hips into the couch, desperate for some relief and the groan that leaves his chest is all it takes to push you to the edge. You drop the camera to your side, pulling his face to your body as your orgasm rocks through you. A pathetic sounding whine leaves your lips as his mouth slows, he pulls his fingers from you as gently as possible. 

You’re left a panting mess as you ride the waves of your high, but as you open your eyes and see him licking his fingers, you reach for the camera once more, capturing the act forever on film.

He stands, offering you his hand with a smirk. You can’t help but to notice that his fingers are still pruny and soft as you place your hand in his, letting him pull your shaky body from his couch. He bends over and snatches the camera from the couch cushion before pulling you down the hallway towards his bedroom. 

As you step over the threshold into his bedroom, you’re met with the dark walls and rich earth toned bedding. He drops your hand, and checks his film, before setting the camera on the edge of his bed. He grabs your hand again, and pulls you into him, snaking his other hand around your waist and pulling you close to his body. His eyes search yours before his lips crash to yours, a heady mix of cigarettes, red wine, and you. 

Your tongue tangles with his as his hands grip into your hips, his hardness pressing against your bare stomach. You pull away, locking your eyes on his as you fall to your knees in front of him. You slide your hands up his thighs until you reach the thin white shoelace at his waist, pulling the tip until it unknots itself and slides to the floor. You feel him reach for the camera, letting it hang around his neck once more as he watches you.

You unbutton his pants, feeling the brush of his length against your hand. You work quickly to pull the pants and boxers to the floor, letting him step out of them as you take in the sight of him bare in front of you. You lean forward to kiss at the smattering of hair at his happy trail but you’re quickly stopped before your lips ever make it there.

He grabs your chin in his hand, placing his thumb over your swollen pink lips, pulling the plump flesh down to expose your bottom teeth as the camera snaps the image above you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can think of nothing but the feeling of your mouth around him. 

Unable to wait any longer you grab him in your fist, stroking him a few times back and forth as his eyes study your movements. You wet your lips in preparation for him, letting your tongue dart out to lick a hot stripe up the underside of his cock. 

He pulls the camera to his eye again, “Stay like that. Just like that baby. Look up at me.”

He rests the tip of his cock in your open mouth, snapping a few shots as he leaks onto your tongue, before tossing the camera to the bed. “Fuck, are you sure you’ve never done this before? You look so fucking gorgeous.”

You smile around him, closing your lips and humming in response. You let your tongue slide up his length, taking him as far back as you can the first few times before working into a steady rhythm. Your eyes are locked on his, a look of awe and desperation written into his features. 

His hand finds grip in your hair, moving with you as you work him, gentle whines falling from his lips as you swirl over his tip with each upward stroke. 

Swallowing around him he sucks in a harsh breath, letting you slide back up before repeating the action. You tense around him as you gag, your eyes blinking away tears wanting to continue. Your eyes roll back as you taste the saltiness on your tongue knowing he is nearing his release.

He pulls away from you, cupping your face in his big warm hands, his thumbs swiping away errant tears.  

“I– You’re– Get on the bed for me, sweetness. Wanna ruin that pretty cunt before I cum.”

You look up at him, swallowing thickly, a little shocked by the side of himself he just showed you. You take his hand with a grin as he offers it to you, standing and hopping up onto his bed, laying yourself back on his pillows. He follows you, leaning over to reach for the camera on the nightstand before doing so. He leaves it on the pillow next to your head, focusing all of his attention on you for the time being. 

He’s tender for a moment, leaning down to kiss you briefly before he situates himself between your thighs. He kneels above you, looking down at the sight before him. He traces a gentle line down your sternum, then back up, dragging lightly against the expanse of your clavicle, then back down once more. His eyes seem to roam over every inch of you while you wait patiently for things to advance.

“You…” he starts, a breathy laugh leaving his throat, like he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “So gorgeous.” 

“You’re sweet.” you respond, parting your thighs a bit more for him. He hasn’t stopped his feather light touches just yet though.

“Is that how you like it?” he asks, catching you a little off guard. Your eyes flick up to his and you can’t help the way you squirm a little at his directness.

“I…” you start, but he promptly silences you with a pinch to your nipple, pulling a wanton moan from the depths of your chest.

“Ahh. There she is.” He says, smiling. He lets go and leans down to give it a kiss. “Just trying to get a read on you.”

He palms your breast as he pushes back up, unable to take his eyes off of you. You watch the wheels turning in his head as he squeezes firmly, his eyes cutting to the camera next to your head. 

He picks it back up, adjusting it with lightning speed. He looks through the viewfinder once before reaching for your tit again, your nipple slipping between his long fingers. He snaps a photo, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration while the aperture adjusts, the settings on auto now to save time. 

“That artistic part of your brain just doesn’t turn off, huh?” you ask, reaching up to run a hand down his stomach, your patience running out.

“Blessing and a curse.” he mumbles, reaching forward into his nightstand. As he’s leaning over you, you can’t help but take a moment to place a few wet, searing kisses to his jaw and throat. You know they’re appreciated when he bucks his hips against you, his dick dragging against the inside of your thigh.

He sits back up, tearing the foil of the condom with little difficulty and flipping it over once or twice to check which way is right. He eventually distinguishes top from bottom and starts to slide it on, looking down in concentration. 

After he’s done, he leans down towards you, placing hungry, wet kisses wherever he can find purchase. He reaches between your bodies, taking himself in his palm and brushing the head of his cock through your folds. 

“Wait…” you say, and he rests his head on your chest for a moment, looking up at you with patient eyes. 

“Yes, sweetness?” he says, pulling back, unsure if you’re about to call the whole thing off. You take a deep breath, reaching down to touch him gently. 

“Can we take this off?” You murmur, your hand waiting to pull it off the moment he gives you the green light. 

“God, yeah,” he says enthusiastically, a little chuckle leaving him as you haphazardly pull the condom off of him and toss it by the wayside. “Absolutely. Fuck. I want to…” He trails off, like he’s about to say something else, but once you slip the tip of him inside of you, he can’t get a word out. 

He pushes in about halfway, stopping to settle and watch your reaction. You gaze up at him, reaching up to play with one of your nipples. He takes in a sharp breath at the sight before pulling out a little before he pushes all the way in, slowly. 

“Oh… oh my god,” you manage to get out, unable to help the way the words scratch their way out of your throat. Sam’s eyes are glued to your center, watching himself enter you. 

“Everything about you…” he says, taking a trembling breath, “...is fucking picture perfect.” 

You smile at the compliment and watch his face for a moment, the way his dark lashes move quickly with his blinking eyes trying to process everything at once. He starts to move slowly, the drag of him making your breath hitch. 

He fucks into you slowly, deeply, your head swimming at the sensation. It’s good, but it’s not quite enough, and you can’t help but speak up. 

“Sammy…” you begin, calling him by his nickname, like he asked, affectionately. “Harder. Please.”

He snaps his hips into you in response, giving you a dirty smirk from above.

“You’re a backseat driver in the sack, too?” he quips, moving back on his heels a little to change the angle and give himself more range of motion.

“Shut up and fuck me. How’s that?” you bite, grinning up at him. Before you can even prepare yourself, he snatches your wrists, pinning them above your head in just one of his big hands, your slender wrists slotted between his lengthy fingers.

He looks like he’s about to snap back at you, but then his eyes narrow a little. He reaches for the camera again, holding it against the side of his body to flip the switch and open the aperture. He lifts it to his eye and snaps a picture of his hand pinning your wrists together, the strap of the camera falling a little bit into the frame.

Once he’s done, he drops the camera again and braces himself with his free hand, picking up an almost brutal pace. You can’t complain, because it’s what you asked for, and god did he deliver. The sound of skin on skin, his body meeting yours, rhythmically bounces off the walls of his bedroom. You cry out at the feeling of him, reeling at the sensation of him so deep inside you. Warmth starts to build in your stomach, your head getting dizzy.

“Are you getting close?” he asks in your ear, slightly breathless. You whine in the affirmative, spreading your legs further as if you need him even deeper. He lets go of your hands, sitting up a little straighter but still thrusting into you hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. Your eyes start to flutter closed, your back arching, and you feel his hips stutter slightly as he moves a bit on top of you. 

There’s some clicking and you know what he’s about to do, but you can’t be bothered to change a single thing about what you’re doing. You reach for your chest, holding your tits steady as he pushes you towards the edge, waiting for the moment. 

“Gonna cum…” you warn, your brows knitting together. 

“Come on, beautiful. I’m ready.” he coos as it hits you, your lips parting, your head tilting back as you gasp for breath. You don’t register when the shutter sounds, but you feel the camera hit the pillow again and Sam’s got both of his hands on your waist, so you know he must have gotten the shot. 

He slows his pace, allowing you to catch your breath and come back down to earth. His hand slides up to your throat, running his thumb over your lips in the same manner he did earlier, but this time instead of letting him tug at your lip you suck his thumb into your mouth.  

“Fuck…” he curses under his breath, pulling his hand back and slowly pulling out of you. “Turn over for me.” 

You blink up at him, a little bashful, your eyes darting to the camera, then back to his. You try to suppress a grin and give him a little shake of your head.

“Do you trust me?” 

Feeling a little giddy, you roll over, pulling your hair over your shoulder before propping yourself up on your knees. You keep your face in his pillow, your eyes watching the camera laying near you as he presses inside you, the position allowing him somehow deeper.

His hands find your hips and as he starts to move, the grip tightens, pulling little hiss from between your teeth. You’re glad he doesn’t hear because you’d hate it if he stopped. 

“Gotta be careful…” he mumbles, his voice strained. “Feels a little too good.” 

You hum, a little laugh leaving you. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met, and definitely different from anyone you’ve ever slept with. His playfulness mixed with the dominance that peeks out on occasion is a potent combination you can’t seem to get enough of.

He uses his grip on your hips to pull you back into him, his pace slower, but the feeling of him nudging at your cervix with every stroke makes up for the change in speed. He rubs a hand over the curve of your ass as he slows down and releases his grip.

“Goddamn, that’s beautiful.” 

The camera disappears and you push up on your forearms, suddenly shy and nervous and feeling like a shot of that isn’t quite as artistic as the rest of your photos. You look at him over your shoulder, a little suspicious.

“No, no no. Your back, your hair on the pillow,” he reassures you, a warm hand on your back. You giggle a little, laying back down. He splays your hair across the pillow, then taps your arm. “Move this up under you.” You do as he says, one arm and hand under you, the other hand above you, fisted in the sheets. His hand drags slowly up your back before he speaks again. “Arch a little more. Like you were before. Yeah, perfect.” 

Click.

It lands on the bed, then he starts to move again. He groans, a bit louder than he has been, and you know he’s hanging on by a thread.

“Are you… Are you on birth control?” He asks, his voice slightly boyish in this moment. You can’t help but laugh softly.

“What, you don’t want to knock me up on Valentine’s day?” you joke, and he freezes. You wonder if you said the wrong thing for a moment, but then he speaks softly.

“I’m confident you won’t like my answer, sweetness.” 

It takes you a moment to understand what he means, and when you do, you can’t stop the words that fall from your lips. 

“Try me.” 

He pushes himself deeper into you, so much so he leans over and braces himself on his palm next to your face. He’s closer now when he speaks, his breath hot on your shoulder. 

“I’d love nothing more than to knock you up on Valentine’s day.” 

Holy shit.

“So no plans in November, then?” you quip, grinning as the weight of him pushes you into his pillow. 

“Mm, nothing too big, just a world tour.” he responds, thrusting a few more times. “Super flexible.” he grits out. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, feeling him start to twitch inside you.

“The answer is yes, by the way. About the birth control.” 

“....It’d be cooler if you weren’t, but alright.” he jokes, his voice straining as his hips start to falter. You can hear him breathing through clenched teeth as his grip on you tightens. You tighten around him, arching your back just a touch more and as you drop your head between your arms, you see his hand frantically reaching for the camera one last time. 

You can feel the tension in your stomach tightening, his hand sliding up to your shoulder to pull you back to meet him. “There you go, baby. Keep squeezing just like that. I’m right there.” he says, and you can tell by the lilt in his voice he is waiting for you. 

You rock back, your bodies slamming together with a lewd smack, the sound itself just enough to tip you over the edge. You feel the rush wash over you as he pulls you in, wrapping his arm around your waist as his hips continue to move. He lets out a small grunt with each forceful spurt inside you, and you feel a wave of euphoria sweep over you as you realize he wasn’t joking after all. 

“Fuck…” he whines, pulling out of you. You can hear him adjusting the lens of the camera and you’re so caught up in your own bliss you couldn’t care less that he is documenting his work. You feel him rest his hand on your ass, palming your cheek to the side for a better view as he leaks down the inside of your thigh. 

The camera clicks, and just as you start to lower yourself down, you feel his fingers swipe up through the warmth dripping down your leg, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to look at him, his eyes completely fixed on you as he slides his cum covered fingers inside of you. 

“Just for good measure, huh beautiful?”

You hear the shutter click a few times, a few indiscernible mumbles of praise from his lips, and finally the thud of the camera as it lands next to you on the sheets. He pulls his fingers from you, tapping your ass softly as an indication that you’re good to relax.

The mattress shifts as Sam gets out of bed, his footsteps heading towards the bathroom. The light shines for a moment accompanied by the sound of running water as you wait patiently. He’s back soon after with a warm, wet washcloth, and he gently parts your thighs to start cleaning the mess he made.

It’s quiet as he tends to you, his breathing slowing down as he does. Once he’s done, he slips into bed behind you, pulling your back to his chest.

“So… what are you gonna do with those pictures?” you ask, the smile on your face audible as you speak. 

“Well, get them developed, I guess. But aside from myself and the poor person at the film lab, nobody will ever see them. Cross my heart.” 

“And me,” you remind him.

“Yes, yes. And you, sweetness.” Silence hangs over the two of you for a moment before he speaks again. 

“Will you stay?” he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. You wrap your arms overtop of his where he’s holding you tight, nodding.

“I don’t think you could force me out of this bed.” 

–

You’re woken by the warmth of sunshine on your face. Blinking and trying to remember where you are, you refamiliarize yourself with Sam’s bedroom in the daylight. Your eyes clear and focus on the camera sitting on the nightstand. 

Sam is in a deep sleep, snoring softly with his mouth open, a few strands of his hair stuck to his face. You can’t help but smile at the sight before slipping out of bed and quietly sneaking through his house to collect your clothes strewn about.

You peek into his bedroom once you’ve gathered all of your belongings and he’s still out cold, only his feet poking out from beneath the sheets. Your eyes are pulled to the camera again, and then an idea forms. You tiptoe inside and carefully grab it, doing your best to remain quiet. 

Needing darkness, you head for the bathroom and wind the film. You duck into his other bedroom on the way and grab an empty film canister. Hoping it’s quiet enough to not wake him, you close the bathroom door behind you and wait a moment before taking the roll out and putting it in the black container. 

Once you’re done, you retrieve your keys from the cabinet by the door and grab an old receipt he must have just pulled out of his pockets when he was putting his keys in their usual spot. There’s a pencil on the music stand of the nearby piano, so you snatch it and leave him a little note. You write out your phone number, draw a little heart, and put the camera over the corner so you know he’ll find it. You silently sneak out the door and lock it from the inside behind you.

The drive back to your home proved to be shorter than anticipated, the light of day giving you a better sense of your location. You glanced over to the rolls of film laying in your passenger seat, taking mental stock on how many bottles of developer and Blix you had sitting on your shelf. It was times like these you were grateful for your little makeshift film lab, knowing that Sam said he would probably send these rolls off somewhere, and that some poor guy would have to see every lewd act appear right before his eyes. 

You snatched the rolls from your seat and grabbed your camera bags from your trunk before making your way inside to your warm house. Feeling grimey, you ran yourself through a quick shower, eager to see what was waiting for you on these rolls of film. 

Stepping into your lab you place the film rolls on the table, grabbing your Patterson canister, your chemicals, and your scissors to start the process. You trim the leads on the film rolls, smiling as you see your roll next to Sam’s. With the leads trimmed, you flip the light switch in your completely blacked out guest room, leaving you in total darkness as you pry the bottoms off of the rolls of film. 

You load the long slippery strips of film into the plastic spools, screwing the lid back onto your canister before flipping your lights back on. You grab your chemicals and make your way to the kitchen, running the faucet to heat the water bath. It’s been a while since you’d done this yourself, but the process was ingrained into your memory, and you were careful to not miss a single step. You drop your bottles of Developer and Blix into the water bath, grabbing your thermometer from your junk drawer. 

Your phone buzzes on the counter as you wait for the temperature to rise, your heart pounding as you see a new number flash across the screen. You make your way back to your lab, grabbing the canister off the table as your chemicals reach temperature. You carefully pour the developer into the canister, agitating it every few seconds while you read the message on your phone.

Unknown:

9:12am: Off so soon? And with my film? Should have known I’d never see those beauties. 😏

Your timer goes off letting you know it’s time to move on to the next step, so you set your phone down, ready to pour the developer out of the canister. Satisfied with yourself for not making a mess, you pour in the Blix, leaning away from the fumes as they waft through the air. You do your duty, agitating the chemical as directed, waiting the allotted time until it's ready to pour out. 

You debate answering him right away, trying to leave just a touch of mystery in the air. You decide that you’ll wait until the film is done, teasing him with a photo for his eyes only. 

You rinse your film with water to rid it of the chemicals, knowing there’s only a few more steps until you can see just how talented of a photographer Sam really is. You pour in your stabilizer, letting it sit for a minute, biting your lips together as you suppress the urge to text him back immediately. 

With a deep breath you pour out the stabilizer, and unscrew the lid, ready to see if the evidence of your night came out in the wash. With shaky hands you pull the film strips from the spools, seeing 36 clear images appearing on the transparent roll of sepia film. A huff of laughter leaves your chest, seeing the negative image of your body in the tiny rectangles. 

You suck your teeth as you hang the rolls of film to dry, knowing that in about an hour or so they will be ready to scan into your computer. 

—

It seems like it’s taking longer than usual for the film to dry, at least it feels that way as you check for the hundredth time. An hour and some change later you’re dashing back to your computer with the film, scanning it into Lightroom to start inverting the images. 

Your breath is stolen straight from your lungs as you see the first image. Your cheeks flame red at the sight of yourself, spread below Sam. You continue to click through the negatives, completely shocked at how good his composition is. You knew he was a hobbyist, but you start to wonder if maybe he missed his calling. You swallow harshly as you continue to look through them, but then you realize just how beautiful the photos actually are. You almost feel bad that you stole them away from him. 

You work through each image, inverting the colors until they appear as they really are. You note the vintage look on the film and check the empty roll for the date. You smile as you read ‘86, knowing he shelled out a good amount of cash for that roll, and he decided to use it on you. The film comes out warm and grainy from the low light, but you feel that it adds to the photos, and you can’t think of a better turnout. 

Your eyes catch on one photo, and after inverting the colors your suspicion is answered. The long finger shaped outlines on your hips were forever cemented in time. The memory of his grip burned into your mind. His body is connected to yours, and you can almost remember the feeling of him inside you as you look at the photo. You feel a rush wash over you, and you grab your phone tapping a few buttons on the screen until the camera opens. You bring it to the screen and snap the photo before attaching it to a text.

You

10:47am: *Attachment*

10:47am: I had something… pressing…to tend to. 😉

You snicker at your comment, hoping he will get the joke as you add his contact to your phone. You bite your bottom lip in concentration as you continue to work on the images, fixing the coloring and resizing them to the appropriate proportions. 

As you reach the beginning of his roll, you start to see images of daily life, with people you don’t know, but are clearly happy to be having their photo taken by Sam. Bright smiles and warm moments captured by his keen eye. 

Sammy

10:53am: Wow, um…

You

10:54am: I think they turned out pretty good, what do you think?

10:54am: *Attachment*

You attach another image of yourself draped across his couch, his pashmina spread across your body, the light hitting your throat exactly how he planned. 

Sammy

10:55am: You’re so gorgeous, I don’t even know what else to say if I’m honest. I have to see the rest.

10:56am: Do you…Need help? I normally send my film off to be developed but it would be cool to watch. 

As you click to the next image you sit in shock, trying to place the face next to Sam’s on his couch. You drop your phone to the table in front of you, trying to focus. You’re going positively crazy running through faces in your mind until it hits you. You take in the features and realize the man sitting next to Sam is the guy your friend was flirting with all night. Your heart starts to race as you make the connection. Is that the friend he left last night? Did she go home with him?

You blow out a deep breath and finish up the last photo of Sam and another long haired man, drinking foamy beers in what looks to be a foreign country. You smile at the bubbly mustaches on their lips and grab your phone to reply to his message. 

You

11:02am: You’re a really great photographer, Sam. These shots are really, really good. All of them. 

11:03am: If you really want to see the process you’re more than welcome to, kind of makes you feel like a mad scientist haha. I don’t have much going on at the moment, probably going to work on this next roll if you want to join. 

Sammy

11:05am: What are you up to tonight? I have a work event I have to go to, but I’ll probably dip out early, especially if I have a good reason. 😉

You

11:06am: I have to shoot a show tonight, but I’m free after that…

Sammy

11:06am: So…

You

11:07am: Bring your film and a bottle of red. I just might have a few rolls we can use while we wait. 😏

Join The Taglist Here

Taglist: @ageofcj @britney-gvf @bladenotblaze @gretavanfan @peaceloveunitygvf @highway-tuna @anythingforjtk @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @myleftsock @gretavanmoon @aflame4goinghome @ascendingtothestarssasone @jjwasneverhere @sparrowofrhiannon @gvfstuddedmajesty @kiarraaldarondo @oliver-mf-reed @notjordie-gvf @starshine-wagner @starcatcherchords @sadiechar @spark-my-nature @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mackalah @stardustofman @eyelinerjake @farfromthehomelands @abby-gvf @writingcold

[oneforthemunny]

girls on film |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby! reader|

prompt: eddie has you star in his latest music video. he wants it to be really authentic.

contains: 18+ MINORS DNI, language, drugs, alcohol, smut, exhibitionism, mentions of dom! and sub! themes, fingering fem receiving.

November, 1992

The dressing room had an overwhelming stench of aerosol hairspray and cigarette smoke, a dangerous mix. You wondered if the model next to you worried about going up in flames, her cigarette hanging loosely from her lips while she flipped through a magazine, the poor hairstylist behind her rolling curlers high and pinning them carefully into her long, black locks.

"Look down for me, sweetheart," Maurine, your makeup artist- the only makeup artist you'd ever let touch your face- instructed, eyes squinting as she pressed her thumb above your brow, raising the skin tighter.

Corroded Coffin had the music industry in a tizzy, their latest album releasing just days before you and Eddie announced your relationship; before you and Eddie announced your engagement. It was shocking, sure, but what wasn't with you and Eddie?

What was more shocking than the engagement bombshell, was the fact that you'd managed to keep the relationship under wraps for so long. Clandestine meetings in hotel rooms, sneaking through back entrances with hidden faces, stumbling out on shaky legs with a longing ache in your chest. You wanted nothing more than to be with Eddie all the time, but the privacy, the intimacy and secrecy of your relationship was so sacred to you, to both of you. You cherished every second. Trips to remote locations, free of paparazzi or gawking stares from bystanders, where the two of you could just be. Content in your own pleasure, a far cry from the first time you met. A meeting that started so fiery and jagged with hatred morphed into something beautiful; red-hot passion and permanent attachment.

Now, the secret was out. You and Eddie Munson, polar opposites- or so the media thought. Eddie had proposed to you one night, at your family's beach house in Malibu. He dropped to one knee, surprising to even you that Hollywood's raunchiest bad boy could be so sweet, sweet for you. He presented you with the dazzling Harry Winston, spilling out his heart over crashing waves, knee digging into the sand.

The reaction from the press had been nothing less than expected. Headlines, paparazzi photos, and both your agent's phones ringing off the hook with interview requests. You'd declined them, of course, liking the mystery of it all. The only thing you'd agreed to was the music video.

Your publicist pitched the idea first, after getting a request for a booking of another client, a super model. "It would be good press, for both of you." Kathleen gave you a pointed look.

So here you sat, in a stuffy room behind the set with the rest of the models and lucky girl who'd been picked to star with the other boys in the music video for Nailed in the Coffin, premiering exclusively on MTV. A racy, sexy, filthy song, and judging by your attire for the shoot- or lack thereof- you could only imagine what the video would come out to be.

"Alright, ladies!" Ricardo, the producer, entered the dressing room, careless of the half naked models and bustling artists. "Fifteen minutes!" He clapped, before walking over to a chair, finger pointed in accusation at a flaw.

"That's the guy shooting this?" Maurine scoffed lowly in your ear, smudging the eyeliner out from your waterline.

You smirked. "Yeah, Ed says he's a total wild card." You looked at her for a moment, brows raised in amusement. "Says he's a little weird, but makes good videos. Likes to take risks or something."

Maurine shrugged, pressing a powdered sponger under your eyes. "Well, he knows best, I guess." She sighed, looking over her shoulder.

"They've won best video a few times, so yeah, I guess he would." You giggled.

"Mrs. Munson," Ricardo purred from behind you. You could feel him over your shoulder, meeting his eyes in the illuminated mirror.

"Not yet," You teased, giving him a dazzling smile that only years in the limelight of Hollywood could produce.

"But soon, yes?" Ricardo quipped his brow. You giggled, shrugging, playing off the ditzy, spoiled role. You recognized sharks like Ricardo, sweet but would sell your story to the press for next to nothing. "Did your hubby tell you what he has planned for your scenes?" The way his eyes rose, wide and blown with excitement had your tummy twisting gently.

Knowing Eddie, he'd have you over his knee, paddling you with the Corroded Coffin engraved leather paddle until the band's emblem glowed on your backside- he already had the pictures, what would stop him from filming it?

"Oh?" You quipped, brows raising slightly. "Should I be worried?"

"No, darling, it's perfect. Very intimate. The world will love it." Ricardo clapped giddily. "Finish up and we'll shoot you first. Eddie was very adamant about getting done first. He said you're a very busy lady, so I don't want to keep you."

You grinned, shaking your head slightly. More like Eddie wanted to be done shooting as soon as possible. He was bored at the possibility of staying here all day, rambling off a million other things he'd rather do. "Gonna have you in all my videos, sweetheart." Eddie grinned, pecking your cheek. "At least you're there to keep me company."

"Wonderful, thank you." You smiled politely, watching the director turn. "Wait!" You called, turning in your chair to look over your shoulder at the man. "Where is my wardrobe?"

Ricardo gave you a wicked grin before barking out a laugh. "Darling, there is no wardrobe for you." He grinned. "Come as you are, as you came into this world."

You blinked, brows furrowing at his riddled words. "Naked?"

Ricardo nodded, winking at you before walking away. You huffed, turning back to Maurine with a small pout. She laughed, shaking her head at you. "Well, I guess we don't have to worry about messing up your hair getting you into wardrobe." She shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, letting her finish your look- blown out, sultry, bedroom eyes and hair, sexy. Maurine made sure to add your signature lip, contouring the bottom slightly over so you'd have your signature pout, a feature that made Eddie weak in the knees. Your engagement ring that caught the light from the mirror, the obnoxiously large stone dazzling for you. It was dramatic, big, heavy on your ring finger. You expected nothing less from Eddie, truly, everything he did was over the top, especially for you.

Eddie's loud, piercing wolf whistle cut through the deafening sound of machinery and chatter from behind the scenes of the set. You could hear him before you saw him, sitting on the bed in the middle of the set, but he certainly saw you.

"Didn't you get the memo, baby?" Eddie grinned, eyes rolling down your frame when you padded towards him. "Why aren't you in wardrobe?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes slightly. Eddie quipped a brow in warning, making your thighs clench, the unspoken dynamic that always carried outside the bedroom in some way.

"'M not walking around naked." You rolled your eyes playfully back at him, taking in his inked skin, shirtless in nothing but a pair of tight leather pants. You salivated at the sight, his bulge teasing you through the black, tight material.

His hands found your waist easily, running over the smooth material of the silk robe, pulling you closer to him, hand traveling down the the swell of your ass. You grinned at him, your noses nearly touching. He cupped your jaw, ringed finger splaying over your cheek.

"Munson! Hands off!" Maurine snapped, pointing at him from behind the line of cameras. "Do not mess up her makeup!"

Eddie huffed, pulling back, glaring at your stylist with a pout that rivaled your own. You giggled, running a hand down his cheek sweetly. "Heard you wanted to get this done quick?" You raised a brow, brushing his wild mess of curls behind his ear.

"Can you blame me?" Eddie's head tipped to the side, tongue running over his lower lip.

You snorted lightly, pressing your thumb lightly against his bottom lip. He looked so pretty, curls styled and fluffed, muscles glittering with the oil they'd rubbed him down with so he'd shine under the lights for the camera, his tattoos vibrant against his skin.

Eddie pressed a kiss into the pad of your thumb, winking up at you. You swooned, lips spreading in a smile, shrilling when he squeezed your ass through the robe. You two were infatuated with each other, the sick, obsessed, over the top type of love you used to snarl at when you saw.

"Alright, darling," Ricardo called, heeled cowboy boots- very eccentric for the 90's even- clacked across the set towards you. "Love birds, we're ready when you are."

You nodded slipping under the bed next to Eddie. Thin white sheets on the mattress, with an even thinner white sheet on top. You were sure under the harshness of the lights, they'd be able to see right through. Eddie grinned down at you, hand sliding over your hip gently.

"Can you hold the sheet up for me, Ed?" You asked, untying your robe under the sheet. You'd try to maintain some sort of privacy.

Eddie held the sheet while you slipped your robe off, handing it to the antsy tech who waited besides Ricardo. You slipped down further on the bed, holding the sheet tightly against your naked chest. Your nipples pebbled at the bite of the cold air, goosebumps kissing your skin.

"Perfect." Ricardo grinned, all teeth and blown pupils. "So, we only need a few scenes, but I know this will be the most talked about part, of course." He laughed to himself. Your eyes cut to Eddie, raising a brow gently.

"I want sexy, hot, vulgar. Give me a sex tape." Ricardo clapped his hands together.

"Sex tape?" You lifted a brow, frowning at Eddie. "You didn't say sex tape. I didn't agree to that, Edward."

"Not a sex tape," Eddie countered, gently rubbing a hand down your arm soothingly. "He means sexy. Just allude to it, like play it up like we're having sex."

"Exactly." Ricardo snapped, pointing at Eddie. "Give me some va-va-voom, darling!"

"You can do that." Eddie grinned. "I know you can. You do it for me all the time, baby." You blushed hard, rolling your eyes at him.

Once the two of you were positioned, Eddie hovering over top of you, the sheet strategically placed so it barely covered you, Ricardo went back barking orders manically. Eddie's inked hand slid down your naked hip, thumb tracing close to your freshly waxed bikini line.

"You alright?" Eddie asked, brown eyes searching your expression. "This good with you? I thought you'd be ok with it, but, baby, if you're not-"

"No, it's good, Ed." You smiled, hand reaching out to cup his cheek. Your ring cool against his face. "I just... What am I supposed to do? Act like you're fucking me?"

Eddie snorted, lips nuzzling into your cheek. "Something like that." He muttered against the skin. "Just give 'em a show, baby. I know you can do that."

You rolled your eyes, his hand squeezing on your hip; a warning. "That's three times you've rolled your eyes at me." His head quipped to the side, eyes darkening in warning. "You do it a fourth, I'm gonna drag you back to my dressing room, understand?"

You throbbed, clenching around nothing under his dominant stare. You nodded slowly, biting your lip. Eddie smirked, squeezing your hip playfully. "Good girl."

"Ok! Let's get ready! Love birds, are you ready?" Ricardo called from behind the cameras and lights.

Eddie grinned, nodding while you moved your hands to his forearms, rubbing the veiny, inked skin softly. The start of the music played, lights flashing even brighter over you, blinding you from anything other than the set.

"Ok," Ricardo called from his megaphone. "We'll start at the first line. Eddie, move over her, lip-sync the lyrics." He instructed. Eddie moved so he was hovering farther over you, hips grinding through the sheet onto you.

"Mrs. Munson," You fought back another eye roll at the nickname. "Give us those bedroom eyes. Show us how good Eddie makes you feel."

You cringed at the instruction, but moved your leg to hook over his hip. This felt familiar, natural, a position you were in this morning with Eddie before you arrived here. Your nails dug into his arm, lightly, for show of course, while you turned your head to the side, eyes closed and pinched in fake pleasure. It felt weird, having to fake the ecstasy that Eddie constantly gave you, but not having him do it to you now.

"Ok, cut," Ricardo called after a moment. The music halted, screeching to a stop while you pulled apart. "Eddie, let me talk to you for a moment." He motioned him over.

Eddie climbed off of you, squeezing your thigh gently through the sheet. You watched, propped up on your forearms while Eddie talked to the director, eyes cutting back to you.

"Let's take that from the top again." Ricardo clapped, walking away. "Eddie, whenever you're ready."

Eddie climbed back into the bed with you, hand brushing hair out of your face. You laid back on your back, fixing your sheet. "What did he say?"

"He wants it to be more authentic." Eddie replied, moving his knee so it was between your legs. You furrowed your brows softly. "He said we looked robotic." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head.

You giggled. "I don't really know how to look like we're fucking without actually fucking." You admitted with a sheepish smile. Eddie's heart swelled, he loved seeing you so sweet and small like that. "Feels awkward."

"Yeah," Eddie hummed in agreement, his hand dipping under the sheet. You felt him rub across your hip, glide across your tummy softly. "Maybe we should change that."

You frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" You asked carefully. You felt his fingers trail further, tracing down your mound just barely over your lips. You gasped, pushing him slightly.

"Ed," You hissed, eyes cutting to the producers and film staff hidden behind the blinding lights from the set. You lifted the white, thin, cotton sheet higher over your chest. "Have you lost your mind?"

"What?" Eddie shrugged. "They said to make it as authentic as possible. Sell it up big for the cameras, baby." His grin was salacious, hungry. It made your legs clamp further.

"C'mon, angel, they'll never know I promise." Eddie cooed, ringed hand pushing back your perfectly tousled hair. "I'll make sure Donno watches the whole thing before it's released. Just let me help you out."

You huffed, his hand cupping your thing through the sheets, dangerously close to your core, but of course, he knew that. Eddie leaned forward, lips on the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling and nipping at your flushed skin. "You gotta admit it will be exciting." He grinned. You squirmed, his hand cupping your heat through the sheets. "Our little, dirty secret, huh? The world will never know. How fuckin' hot is that, baby?"

You felt his fingers tickle the top of your lips, your own legs parting to let him in further. He grinned, lips against your cheek. "C'mon, let's give 'em a show." The pad of his thumb rubbed the hood of your clit so lightly, it made your head spin.

You let out a staggered huff, before nodding gently, eyes locking with his. His pupils were blow, looking lustfully down at you with a wolfish smile. Your thighs clenched.

"Ricardo," Eddie called, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt the pad of his thumb slowly circle your clit. "We're ready."

You couldn't even register the sounds of the music starting, lights and cameras whirring into place. Your hand clamped down onto Eddie's arms, eyes pinching closed as he worked you slowly, circling your clit at the perfect place that had you writhing.

"Fuck, Eddie, just like that," You whimpered, legs hooking over his hips, pulling him closer.

"Ok, Eddie, and in three, two..."

Eddie's lips moved against yours, low, gravelly voice signing the words of the song into your skin. You writhed gently beneath him, his free hand moving to your face to look at him. Just as your eyes listed, shining and glassy to meet him, he slipped his middle finger in, pumping slowly in and out of you.

Your back arched, gasping when Eddie's fingers curled into you. You gripped onto his arm, his own hand moving to cradle your chin, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your hips ground under the sheets, eyes rolling back when he curled into your g-spot, pulling out to circle your clit, then repeating the actions until you were reeling.

His thumb swiped against your bottom lip again, pressing against the soft, lipstick coated mouth. You opened your mouth easily, cheeks hollowing while your eyes met his, obedient. Just like he trained you to be.

Eddie smirked, still mouthing the lyrics that played over the loud speakers. If he wouldn't have been in the music video, he would've praised you for what a good girl you were being for him.

"Beautiful! Beautiful! Keep it up, let's go to the chorus! No cuts!" Ricardo chanted through his megaphone, the music continuing.

Your walls clenched around his finger, moaning against his thumb while he toyed with you, playing with you expertly. Eddie took his thumb out of your mouth, inching closer and closer to you. His calloused thumb was rough against your clit, providing the perfect friction that had your toes curling, hips lifting against his.

Eddie continued to sign the lyrics slow to you, eyes locked. The two of you were in a trance, locked in on each other, uncaring of the others around you. Your mind was spinning, racing and dizzy with the blinding pleasure that Eddie always brought to you. You tipped your head back, the lights above blinding you, centering you back to your own reality a little. The crew around you, watching as Eddie finger banged you relentlessly on camera. You knew you should be ashamed, mortified; but the deep burning pleasure in the pit of your tummy only built more, growing higher and higher, with every flick, pump, curl, and rub of Eddie's magical fingers.

You whimpered, reaching up to grab his curls, threading your fingers through the base of his hair. He knew you were close, your rounded eyes and desperate little mewls. Eddie rocked his hips against your thigh, relieving his own throbbing cock of some of the uncomfortable pressure.

"'M close, Eddie." You whined softly, pulling back on the hairs gently, clutching them for purchase while his fingers moved slow and deep inside of you.

Eddie pressed his lips to the side of your cheek, lightly, still singing the words to you in a low rasp, more of a growl.

"Perfect! Last line, Eddie! Last line!" Ricardo shouted excitedly.

Eddie fingers moved, curling deep inside of you, while you gasped loudly, mouth falling open slightly, rounding in pleasure, while Eddie kept pumping in and out of you. He could feel your release, the gush of it drenching his hand, making a sickening squelching sound as he still fucked you through it.

Teeth clenched together, eyes narrowed near predatory, Eddie watched you fall apart for him. Whining and gasping, while he still finger fucked you relentlessly. His lips were pillowy soft against your blushed cheeks, finishing out the last lyric with a growl, before his licked a long stripe up the side of your face.

You knew Maurine would be furious, her work destroyed by him, but you were too wrapped up in a cloud of satisfaction that followed your release to care.

Ricardo sounded far away, your eyes glassy when you blinked back up at Eddie, familiar brown eyes shining sweetly back at you. "You alright, angel?" Eddie asked, curls tickling the side of your cheeks as he hovered over you.

You blinked, moving to sit up on your forearms. "Are we done?" You asked, looking around at Ricardo, who frantically moved, barking orders.

"They're done with us," Eddie nodded towards the crew. "But 'm not done with you." Your legs clamped under the sheets at his wolfish grin, dark and hungry. You could feel him grinding gently against your leg, leather pants harboring his growing bulge.

You shrunk under the sheets to hide the blush that was creeping over your chest and neck. Ricardo clacked over, loud boots snapping against the hardwood. "That was beautiful, you two, gorgeous! So authentic!" He shrieked. You blushed harder. Eddie grinned, eyes cutting over to you.

"What can I say? I'm a great actor. Maybe your dad should put me in one of his films, whattya think, baby?" Eddie teased, looking back at you.

You scoffed, shaking your head with a small smile. "Sure. I think you're Oscar worthy." You jested back.

"Totally. Eat your heart out, De Niro." Eddie barked out a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, playfully, halting when Eddie's eyes narrowed at you. Ricardo didn't notice, thankfully, too high off whatever powdery substance was still around his nose, laughing erratically at the two of you. "You two are perfect, perfect. Your fans are going to lose their minds, their sanity entirely, when they see this."

"So we're good?" Eddie asked. "I can go change?"

"I've got everything I need from you." Ricardo gave a half bow to Eddie. "Mr. and Mrs. Munson, it's been a pleasure, as always." He grinned, wide and toothy.

You smiled politely back, still clutching the sheet to your chest. Eddie turned back to you slowly, giving you a pointed look. "What did I tell you?" He asked, tilting his head to this side.

You pouted at him. "I didn't mean to." You huffed, biting back a smirk when his jaw set. Even if the two of you are together and in love now, that didn't mean you couldn't still have a little fun with him, rile him up a little. Give him a little glimpse at the girl you once were before he knew you better.

Eddie let out a sharp breath out of his nose, lips pursing slightly. He knew what you were doing, and that was fine. He'd handle you back in his dressing room, make you gag on his cock until all that pretty makeup smeared and ran down your cheeks.

He grabbed the robe from the tech, handing it to you while you carefully slipped it on under the sheet. Eddie nodded, extending his hand out for you, what a sweetheart.

"Eddie," You mumbled, eyes cutting down to the sheets. You flushed with embarrassment, looking at the wet spot let on the white sheets. Eddie just shrugged, and you gaped at him, tongue clicking in annoyance. "We can't just leave that. They'll know."

Eddie scoffed, stopping one of the bustling techs that was scampering by. "Hey, man, you might need to change those sheets before someone else gets in 'em, alright?"

He didn't wait to see their confused, stuttering response. Reaching out for you, Eddie took your hand in his, pulling you close to his wide while the two of you scampered into his private dressing room.

A month later, you sat at the MTV viewing party, hosted at a club in West Hollywood for the band. Eddie pulled you close, smirking when you hid into his leather jacket as the video played on the large screen. Even with the editing and the features, it still looked so raw, so real.

The media seemed to agree too, magazines and articles barreling out by the dozens about the sexy, sensual music video featuring you two, boasting on how intimate it appeared. No one knew exactly how that was possible, except you and Eddie... and maybe the tech responsible for cleaning up the messy sheets.

[jokeroutsubs]

ENG translation: If we believed that we were "kings", that wouldn't be us

An interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin for Slovenian newspaper Delo, originally published on 24.12.2023. Audio version by IG GBoleyn123

Original article is available here for Delo subscribers. Original article written by Lucijan Zalokar for Delo; photos by Jože Suhadolnik; English translation by a member of Joker Out Subs, native proof reading by IG GBoleyn123.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post! And if you repost the photos, do not crop out the photographer credit.

With Bojan Cvjetićanin about the international breakthrough of Joker Out, the movie Kaj pa Ester?, about life on the road, football, sociology…

I met up with Bojan Cvjetićanin in Ljubljana's Stegne industrial zone, where the members of the popular pop rock (in their jargon: shagadelic rock'n'roll) group Joker Out created a rehearsal space for themselves two years ago. "Lately we've been on the road a lot, but this is still a great second home. If only you knew about the parties that happened here. There were fifty people dancing downstairs," he proudly looked from a small gallery towards the space that measures approximately thirty square metres. Even though the clock had just struck three in the afternoon, the 24-year-old Ljubljana resident had a long day behind him, which had been entirely dedicated to media obligations.

In journalistic circles, we often hear indignation about how modern day influencers - especially those who had gained their influence on social media - have no books on their shelves. Joker Out are first and foremost musicians, of course, but with 150,000 followers (Bojan's personal profile has 190,000) on Instagram, we can count them among the big Slovenian influencers. And there are plenty of books on their shelves.

I don't want to falsely portray the popular fivesome as enlightened donors to the Slovenian literary market: most of the books resemble those you can buy for little money in second-hand bookshops, or even get for free at library write-offs, but they still deserve praise for both the aesthetic sense and the content.

I also don't want to falsely portray the books as the only notable objects in the rehearsal space. There are also the golden plate for the Eurovision single Carpe Diem, which got over two million streams in Finland, a transfusion bag (Rh-) that Tomi Meglič¹, Cvjetićanin's biggest teenage idol, personally brought to them, and a small shop's worth of props given to them by fans: pillows with hand-embroidered patterns, plushies, bras with Instagram accounts written on them, various sweets, you could even find a vinyl from a Soviet cover band of The Beatles. If things continue like that, they soon won't have any space left for instruments, but those are just sweet worries. Joker Out, who were formed in 2016, are currently conquering Europe in a way that the Slovenian music scene has never seen before.

¹frontman of Siddharta, whose third album was called Rh-

I've heard that you approach your job with the utmost professionalism and that you wake up at five in the morning for media obligations.

That's true, today we started early in the morning in Maribor. The first few hours were the most tiring because we were constantly changing locations and driving around the city. After the third or fourth activity, we relaxed a little because we got to the studio. After that, everyone started coming to us instead of the other way around.

Slovenian cinemas have started playing the movie Kaj pa Ester? in which you play a boy who enrolled in high school just to get close to his ex girlfriend again. Did you have any problems with trying to get into the high school mentality?

We filmed the movie two years ago, when my memories of high school were much more fresh than they are today. But on the other hand, I played a boy who had just finished the ninth grade of primary school, so I had to put myself into the shoes of a primary school kid, which is much harder. We're also pretty different personality-wise. But almost the entire cast was around the same age, so too old. We joked about that a lot during filming.

Still, that's nothing unusual in the movie world.

Of course, there are 35-year-olds starring in High School Musical and no one is complaining.

Could you draw any parallels between a musical stage performance and filming a movie? You have to play a kind of role during a concert too...

I have to admit that it's completely different. On stage, I never feel like I'm performing. Of course I am actually performing, but I'm still in the role of myself, Bojan, whereas in the movie, I'm someone completely different. It might be easier to compare filming a movie with recording music in the studio, but there are big differences there as well. The biggest one is that for a movie, the director has the main and the final say. You have to trust him. When you film a scene, you don't even see what you've filmed for a long time. The movie in which I play one of the main roles will be played in cinemas, and I don't even know what I will look like on the big screen. It's different with music, because us authors listen to the songs a hundred times, a thousand times; we're the ones who make all the final decisions. That's quite a mental leap, but I didn't have too many problems with it, because I knew the previous projects of that team. V dvoje ('In a tandem') is my favourite Slovenian TV series. On the other hand, I needed time to get used to this new method of working. If I asked to see the scene we'd filmed one more time, but the director said it was good, we kept filming without hesitation.

You said that on stage, you are always in the role of yourself. Does the nature of that role change from concert to concert? And what influences it? The audience, the outfit…

The outfit has an influence for sure. More than I initially thought. Lately we've been playing with our stage look a lot and looking for the right combination. I currently find that the outfit suits me very well, it's just the shoes that bother me because they're too rigid. I have to change them. They're huge and massive, which makes me feel like I'm clumsily marching around the stage, whereas during rehearsals I wear sneakers and I'm therefore a lot more in the mood for dancing.

What about the language you sing in? Many people say that they feel as if by switching between different languages, they are also switching between their personalities.

I agree. When you change the language, your voice has a different colour and register, you come up with different jokes than in your mother tongue. If I lead a concert in Slovenian, Serbian, or English, I'm a different dude every time. This is also influenced by my notion that each time, I'm performing for a different group of people who are connected by a certain mentality. In Slovenia, I'm performing as a local for locals, and I feel like there are different "game rules" than for example in Croatia or Serbia. Elsewhere, I feel like I don't even think about this.

How did you get the idea to start creating and singing in English? You already broke through internationally with Slovenian.

Us creating in foreign languages isn't so much a result of wanting to break through internationally and the mentality that only English ensures global success. If we thought that way, we wouldn't have gone to Eurovision with a Slovenian song. We're primarily driven by a desire to learn new things, to push the boundaries... In the studio, it's similar to being on the stage. If you change the language, you're not only a different person on stage, but also inside your head. Your creativity is different. Playing with languages is actually also playing with your own creativity, because you enter a different space, a different mentality. The song Sunny Side of London could not have been made if we hadn't mentally transported ourselves to an English-speaking space. We want many more projects like that, not necessarily in English.

Can you be more specific? What kind of mentality do you associate Sunny Side of London with?

That song is a sort of homage to all the people who have suddenly become part of our story. Sunny Side of London has nothing to do with London as such. I was looking for a name of a well-known place with which to name all our concerts, and I decided on London.

The first time I said the words Are you guys real? – Is this really happening, are you really here and singing our songs? – on the stage, certain English phrases snuck into my mind. What the hell is going on? and so on. We also experienced, for the first time, foreigners coming up to us and talking about their own experiences connected to our music. That was something completely new for us. We listened to all those stories in English, as our fans of course can't speak Slovenian, even though they can sing our Slovenian lyrics. Sunny Side of London therefore emerged as a collection of all the experiences and stories that fans told us after gigs.

You've already touched on fans who sing your lyrics by heart from Finland to Spain. Could you highlight the nation with the best ear for the Slovenian language?

On the latest tour, when we visited Lithuania, Poland, Czechia and Croatia, there were moments when I felt like I was singing in Slovenia. In Prague, I filmed the audience singing Umazane misli without me. As if I were in Križanke, for example. But it's even more fascinating that people sing well in England and Nordic countries too. It's understandable that our Slavic brothers have the best ear for Slovenian, but northerners aren't far off either.

How much of your international success do you attribute to the Eurovision performance?

A huge amount.

If you had to express it in a percentage?

99.9.

Really?

Definitely. It was an incredible catapult. Whenever I ask the audience at our international concerts if anyone was already with us before Eurovision, a few hands shoot up every time, but those are rare exceptions.

How do you explain the fact that you finished in the relatively humble 21st place in Liverpool, but your visibility still grew in leaps and bounds?

We were very, very, very dedicated to the Eurovision project. We put a lot of time and energy into demonstrating to the people who were open to it that we weren't just a three-minute performance, but very much an existing band that has made many songs and that lives on stage. With time, and of course in connection with the Eurovision performance, more and more listeners got to know that. We clearly showed them: we are here, we are real, try it, connect with us.

Because they had so much different content available, this actually happened. I think it was also because they saw that Joker Out really was made out of five completely regular dudes from Slovenia who live a totally normal life, and at the same time we make music and have a great time doing it. That is already a slight deviation from what's been happening recently, when we're being bombarded from all sides by messages that we need to distance ourselves from each other, that we have to hate each other...

That was the sociologist in you talking.

That's true. The atmosphere in society nowadays is such that it emphasises individuality more than building a team. Young people, however, need and want to be part of a community. And we offered them that chance.

Where does your interest in social sciences come from? Your father is a gynecologist, your mother a pediatrician, and you have a degree in sociology.

I had a very good professor in high school. If you wanted to listen to him, he offered a lot of knowledge. Even though sociologists often think about society in an abstract way, the subject always felt tangible to me. I recognised it in very concrete life situations that I was trying to understand. At my final exams, I did a great job with sociology with very little effort – and then made a mistake and enrolled in economics. I wavered between those two options from the start, and in the end, what tipped the scales were the warnings of many people I knew that sociology doesn't have good employment prospects. I gave in to the pressure and very quickly realised I had made the wrong decision. I gave up on economics after the first semester. That was when I seriously threw myself into the band, we made Gola, and then I transferred to sociology and there was happiness all around.

You clearly won't work as a sociologist for a while yet, if ever...

But I am a sociologist.

In your soul?

No, as my profession. Us musicians are sociologists. A lot of sociological terms could easily be transferred into our environment. Locale, for example. In third year, the professor asked me several times: Well, Cvjetićanin, if you have a concert, is that locale or something else? And then I said it was locale and started rambling on. (laughter)

So you are a singing sociologist?

Exactly.

How do you explain the success of Joker Out from a sociological point of view? How do your songs address the zeitgeist?

I write the lyrics exclusively based on stories that really happened. Not necessarily to me, but to people I love. Therefore, I have a strong emotional relationship with the subject matter. My opinion is that there will always be people who will connect with the story if it's real. Because it's easiest for us to connect with real emotions. Our songs are love songs, they talk about finding yourself and personal growth, some are socially critical... I think that I have managed to find the right balance between being direct and being poetic.

I'll word it differently. The Beatles already sang about love and personal growth. And they weren't the first ones by far. Later on, those same themes were covered by hundreds of successful bands and an infinite number of slightly less successful ones.

I think that nowadays, we most often associate societal changes with technological development. Technological advances largely dictate the rhythm of our life. But those advances are mostly just a substitute for something that already existed in the past. The basic emotions have therefore certainly stayed the same. Love, fear, hatred... I think that the use of language is very important here. Even though the emotions don't change, the way we put them into words does. In music, too. I don't sing about a topic the same way my peers would have in the 1970s. Consequentially, our relationship with emotions is changing and evolving as well. As if our entire society is gravitating towards the point of holding the belief that it's better for an individual to feel less and less, and in a more and more censored way.

On the one hand, excessive use of social media and other media causes us to feel like distinct individuals. On the other hand, it connects us to the world and places us into a very wide picture. In every moment, we are only a click away from becoming cosmopolitan and being able to access all the information, events, and people, but at the same time, that's exactly what reminds us that we are a small and actually not very important dot on this planet. The magnitude of everything that's constantly available to us makes us feel small. I think that we mostly listen to, watch, and use those who manage to poke the spot that unnerves people the most in this context. If performers manage to break through the firewall of someone's VPN, then those people will also show their interest in an analogue way. Otherwise, they will only be a swipe away.

And now a question that's more psychological than sociological: do you ever try to get into the heads of the people who time and again show their interest in very analogue ways?

I have an infinite appreciation for their dedication, because for myself, I don't see the chance of a phenomenon exciting me so much that I would be ready to dedicate so much time and love to it.

So you've never been a very hardcore fan?

If, at twelve years old, I had to highlight one musicians that I would've wanted to meet more than anyone in the world, that would definitely have been Tomi Meglič. That hasn't changed to this day. The only difference is that we meet up with Tomi and we're friends. I still feel the highest possible level of respect for him. Every time he calls me, I am extremely proud of myself. But I still cannot imagine going to, say, Berlin tomorrow if Siddharta were playing there and I had a free day. I'd go to Maribor or Zagreb, but absolutely not across all of Europe the way the biggest fans do. Not even at twelve. I could sooner imagine that at that age, a football match rather than a concert would be the thing that excited me beyond all reason.

We're probably talking about two groups of celebrities that get worshipped as deities by the masses in Western society: footballers and pop and rock musicians. And this is probably linked to emotions again.

True. The thing that wakes up a person's sense of smell, sight, and all other emotions that overcame them as a child, is what has the best possibility of succeeding.

Now please explain how this is connected to football.

If I go to a concert by Siddharta, Big Foot Mama, Magnifico, I turn into a ten-year-old kid who will explode from happiness. There's no Bojan anymore. He gets lost. It's the same with football. When I watch it, I dream about how I played for Slovan² as a kid and what I wanted more than anything was to score a goal and for everyone in the stands to yell: Yeeeees!

²ND Slovan is a football club from Ljubljana

You don't score goals, but you are in a similar position that Tomi Meglič used to be in.

All the band members come from very loving families that have always provided us with a very good support system and instilled basic values in us that we internalised deeply. That is why everything that's currently happening around us hasn't gone to our heads in a way that would make us think that we're bigger or more important than anyone else. If we started believing that we were "kings" because everyone was clapping for us and singing our songs, that would probably be a very strong feeling, but that simply wouldn't be us. We mostly love to see all the people, because we know how much we mean to them and how much they mean to us. Without them, we wouldn't be able to focus on what's most important to us – our music. On the other hand, I can say with a thousand percent certainty that I would easily and happily do my job if I was performing at venues like Cankarjev dom. So, in front of a calmer audience, without unreal hype.

But what I would like most in the world is to turn into a footballer for ten seconds and score a goal at an important match. You know why? Because that is the biggest adrenaline hit that exists. When we perform on various stages, there's mayhem around us for two hours straight. But in football, when a goal is scored, that happens in a millisecond. You go from nothing into total chaos. Everyone loses their minds. I'd love to experience that. Well, I did – much like everyone who played football in primary school. When I scored a goal for Slovan and a hundred people in the stands clapped for me, I felt like I was on Maracanã. Imagine what it would be like to experience that on the real Maracanã.

It's interesting that you highlighted a loving and stable family background. Many of the biggest pop and rock stars in the world grew up in a diametrally opposite environment. From John Lennon and Janis Joplin to Prince and Rihanna. There are actually so many of them that we can talk about a pattern.

I know, because I love to read their (auto)biographies, and I agree with your assessment that their family circumstances are fundamentally different than ours. That is always my answer to the question when someone wants to know how debauched our tours are. When I tell them that we mostly drink water and tea on the road, they just can't believe it. But it's the truth, because we've realised three things. First, we enjoy what we do immensely, and from the experiences of many musicians, we know that you can almost definitely forget about a long career if you start doing everything that we perceive as the proverbial rock'n'roll lifestyle. A band like that breaks up sooner or later, either because of frayed nerves, or exploding egos, or because of money. Second, we've all had to go to work hungover and we know very well that it's unbearable. I especially can't imagine how we could stay healthy and keep our strength and our voice if we were constantly hungover on the road. In that case, the only short-term solution is drugs, which we fortunately [knocks on wood] don't do. And third: I'm sure that you have a much better time on stage if you're aware that you are on it.

Your international breakthrough doesn't have a precedent among Slovenian musicians. Would you dare to point out where the difference is, why you made it and not for example Siddharta, who had filled Bežigrad stadium and later did not hide their international ambitions?

We have to understand that Siddharta didn't have the chance to perform at a festival like Eurovision. It's hard to understand what it means for 160 million people to watch you. That is a bizzarely huge number. All this happened in the time of social media, and we had set up a pretty good mechanism in that area even before Eurovision, and then also used it, whereas Siddharta established itself as a band in the time of analogue media. I can't even imagine how it would've been possible to break through abroad from Slovenia at that time. Because even we are already – even though some things have opened up for us very nicely and we've been joined by the right people – finding out how much of an investment going international demands. Dreams of megalomanical earnings and a luxurious life brought on by a European tour shatter quickly. Even when you start filling up venues, you stay in a kind of hustle mode. You fight. Unfortunately, the costs in the music business are so high that performing abroad is more or less just for promotion for a long time.

You're probably thinking of logistical costs?

Yes. Some of my colleagues have total misconceptions about our earnings. They think that we're literally swimming in money, while we actually earn what amounts to a normal salary.

In March next year you will have eighteen concerts. You will start in Helsinki and end in Milan. How will you travel?

With a tour bus. We've rented it twice so far: for the UK tour and for the tour around Lithuania, Poland, and Czechia. There are beds on it, so we can sleep while driving from one concert to the next. The tourbus is prohibitively expensive, you pay almost half of your royalties for it, but it's the only way for a musician with such a packed schedule to survive in the long run. Sometimes people ask me why we don't travel with a van instead, but you have to understand that we sometimes have concerts two days in a row and the venues are 800 kilometres apart. If we spent all night in an uncomfortable van, then looked for a hotel in the morning and so on, we might be able to endure it for a week, but definitely not all month.

Do you ever sleep in a hotel?

Only on free days.

Will the March tour be your most exhausting one so far?

It will definitely be one of the more exhausting ones, but I am definitely happy that we will be able to sleep on a tour bus. We haven't been on a month-long tour yet, so it's hard to predict anything, but on the Nordic tour this year we played six concerts in five days, because we had two concerts in one day in Helsinki. We didn't have a tour bus there, we flew instead. That meant that after the concert, we got to the hotel at midnight, then we had to be at the airport at three in the morning, a few hours later we were already at the new location, we napped for two hours on a couch, had a soundcheck – rinse and repeat for five days in a row.

Let's not talk only about the negative sides of tours…

Of course. I love sleeping on the bus! I fall asleep like a baby who's being taken for a walk in a stroller. I can't sleep more than nine or ten hours in my bed at home, on a tour bus I easily get twelve hours. Maybe it's because it's constantly shaking a little. The other guys also sleep very well on the road.

But the most magical thing on tours is when I visit a city for the first time just because we have a gig there. That seems unimaginable to me. To meet new people, wonderful fans, to bond as a band, experience new, funny situations, to bring home a bunch of new inside jokes and incredible gifts that fans have made themselves. [Points towards a hand-embroidered pillow in the part of the studio where they keep the gifts.]

Elite athletes often lament that it's true that they compete all over the world, but they often only see the airport, the hotel, and the sports venue.

It's similar for us. When we travel with a bus, we only see the venue. If we happen to have a free day, we walk around the city, but we definitely don't visit all kinds of tourist attractions as some people might wrongly imagine. When we go to Paris, we definitely won't go to the Louvre, and we will see the Eiffel tower through the bus window if everything goes well.

But you meet a lot of interesting people.

That's true. I find it the most fascinating if we meet fans when we don't expect them at all. In a restaurant, on a plane… When we were flying to Poland, it turned out that one of the flight attendants was a big fan of ours. She told us that she was going to three of our concerts and brought us champagne and a model of a Lot Polish Airlines plane.

I was even more surprised in Helsinki. I went to some kind of dark club that had a techno music party. Suddenly I was approached by three people, two guys and one girl, and they told me that they were our fans and that they couldn't believe that they met me in that club. I also couldn't believe that people recognised me in the middle of Helsinki. What's going on?!

In the summer, you took a step back from Instagram for a while. What brought you to that decision?

Many things. I felt creatively empty. I also, for the first time in my life, experienced the internet – not just Slovenian, but global – being completely oversaturated with me. That started negatively pressuring me and eating me up. I thought about it a lot, and the first time I asked myself whether I'd be less Bojan Cvjetićanin if I didn't have an Instagram profile, I turned it off. Immediately after that, I wrote three songs; I felt as if I had cleaned up some of the mess that had built up recently. I returned to social media some time ago; with much healthier habits than before, I think.

How do you see social media? As a space for playfulness, for promotion, part of the job, part of private life?

I think that at the time when they started killing me, I perceived them too professionally. I had a feeling that Instagram was a platform through which I had to achieve all sorts of things. Lately, I prefer to joke around more.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post! And if you repost the photos, do not crop out the photographer credit.

[broadwaydivastournament]

The Great Movie Musical Diva Showdown

Hello and welcome to the first annual Movie Musical Diva Tournament, where we're voting on our favorite Movie Musical Divas from the very first in 1927 all the way through the 20th century. The tournament will begin July 1st at 5:30 p.m. EST. All polls will be open for one week.

Propaganda will be accepted on a rolling basis throughout the tournament. Please send your personal messages, photos, video links, audio bootlegs, etc. by directly reblogging the poll, or tagging @broadwaydivastournament. Submissions will be accepted until June 25th. A running list of all divas already submitted can be found here. Additional propaganda is always welcome.

Submissions are now open

READ FAQ BELOW BEFORE SUBMITTING

Eligibility Criteria:

Ladies only. I am ill-equipped to run a tournament involving men and shall leave that up to someone far more capable than I.

We will be lowering the minimum age requirement for this tournament given the inherent ageism within the filming industry. Though it breaks my heart, if we only ran movie musical divas over 45, it would be a small poll indeed.

No children. Sorry Shirley Temple. In the case of someone who began as a child actress and continued into adulthood, this is acceptable.

Must have a significant movie musical career between 1925 and 1999. Actresses whose careers start at the very tail end of the 90s might be considered, but may be cut at my discretion.

Should ideally have at least two or three movie musical credits to their name, though exceptions will be made in cases where systemic racism played a significant role in hindering an actress's career.

Actresses who may not physically appear on film, but whose voices were integral to the making of the movie will be embraced, accepted, and revered. We love and respect ghost voices in this house.

In that vein, if an actress did not do her own singing, she will still be accepted, though I'll be putting that addendum in every poll for transparency's sake. Acting and dancing skills are equally valuable in a movie musical, not just singing.

This poll will only be accepting actresses from live-action films. More on that below.

Which movie musicals count:

Live-action movie musicals. Should the film in question include instances of animation (i.e. Mary Poppins, or The Pirate Movie), this is also acceptable. However, animated movie musicals like many of Disney's golden age catalogue will not be accepted.

The films may be made-for-TV, straight-to-VHS, or premiering in cinema. Because I love the theatre, stage musicals that were adapted for film (though still staged like a theatre piece such as New Faces) will be accepted. Proshots are marginal.

Why 2000 as the cut-off year? Why not just throw in an extra quarter-decade and do all-time movie musicals? Look, the 20th century limit was chosen for one reason and one reason only: so I can submit Bernadette Peters in the 1997 Cinderella. That is it. Were it not for her, I'd have kept this to just Golden Age-era films. So, thank Bernadette for raising the bar.

How will the Divas be paired up?

Partially through arbitrary means, though factors such as time period, star quality, etc. will be considered.

To start, Divas more active in early years will be matched up with each other, and likewise for later years.

Lesser-known Divas will be given their due spotlight and shan't find themselves pinned down by the big stars right away.

Tags used:

#moviemusicaldivas; #moviemusicaltournamentpolls; #mmround"X"; #poll winners; #actress names. Suggest any tags you think will make this a more user-friendly experience.

In the meantime, I will be posting two theatre-related Diva polls per day up until the Tony Awards on June 16th. To see all the current polls, click here.

[guillotinebypierre]

Y/n POV

*Knock Knock*

"Are you ready, jagi? I just finished preparing all the cameras and the lighting. We're good to go if you are."

I stood in front of the 'dressing room' of the star of the show. It was inside a small trailer set up at the cliff of a hill near Seoul, overlooking the city. It was pretty dark outside, naturally, as it was already night time. The city lights lit up the surrounding area, creating a breathtaking view, and the scenery for todays episode of my girlfriend's show, 'Chuu Can Do It'. Normally we'd have a whole crew with us, but due to this episode being a special (and kinda difficult one to film), they tasked me with doing the filming part alone.

What was once just a small project made to get people to become more environmentally conscious and start helping our planet eventually turned out to be a huge project that helped during very dark times and very annoying lawsuits. I met Jiwoo a little after graduation. My goal was to pursue a career in filmmaking, or really anything where I could use my photography and filmmaking skills.

Jiwoo was a year older than me and a walking ball of sunshine. When I met her, she was starting to become a trainee in order to pursue her dream of becoming a kpop idol. I didn't know much about the industry back then as I mostly listened to western music and didn't really care much about the often foreign concept of Korea's celebrities, but for her I learned about it. I also met the rest of her friends, all 11 of them, and things just kinda evolved from there.

Me and Jiwoo became close friends almost immediately, her happy and extroverted personality starkly contrasting my rather quiet one, yet somehow we completed each other. Opposites really do attract, or whatever that saying says.

I asked her out on a date after we'd been friends for almost a year. It was probably the scariest thing I'd done up to that point, and in retrospect it was really stupid because I didn't even ask about dating bans beforehand, but she was insanely ecstatic about me asking. She jumped on me and became all giddy talking about what she wanted to do for our date.

I've been with her through literally everything, from the highs of her career until the deepest and most depressing moments. She never told me anything about her contract because she thought I'd be worrying too much, but I wasn't blind. I could tell that she wasn't feeling well and the stress was getting to her. This is why I was the first one to encourage her with suing that disgusting company.

On a happier note though, Jiwoo was the one to recommend me to do the filming for all her content. I was the one doing her photos, her group's photoshoots, everywhere I could I helped.

Today I was tasked with helping Jiwoo do an episode on smog and air pollution for her channel. The episode required me to do some basic landscape and sky shots, comparing the air out in the city and in the 'wilderness'. The first portion of it was already finished, seeing as it was needed to be done in the morning. We also filmed an interview with a scientist and were now supposed to also do some shots of the sky during nighttime.

Jiwoo and I also decided to just stargaze after finishing the episode as a small celebration of her and her members winning their lawsuits.

"Yeah just come in for a second, I need your help", her muffled voice came from behind the door.

I walked in and saw her still in her bathrobe and doing her make up.

"What's up, Jiwoo?"

"Sit on the couch, Y/n.", she told me.

I walked over and plopped myself on the small couch in the middle of the trailer.

"*Sigh* I can't believe we actually did it.", she said while tearing up.

I immediately got up and hugged her, letting her cry herself out on my shoulder.

"What do you mean, jagi? Are you talking about winning-"

"Y-Yeah", she cut me off.

It killed me to see her like this. To see my own sun be riddled with sadness. Nobody deserved to go through all the shit she and her members had to go through, especially not her.

"I know, I'm so proud of you girls for doing it and winning that lawsuit. You can't imagine how many idols you're helping by showing that they shouldn't throw away their humanity for random company."

She cried even more, her tears soaking my grey pullover as I just held her and waited for her to calm down.

Jiwoo's cries soon faded and I really thought she had fallen asleep until I heard her voice from my shoulder.

"I- I wanted to thank you, Y/n", she said, her voice slightly cracking

"You've been such a big help throughout all this and with the show and filming, taking photos-"

"Jiwoo you don't have to thank me for anything-"

"But I want too."

Her voice shifted slightly, her teary, breaking voice being replaced by something more playful, something more daring and teasing. She looked up from my shoulder while smiling slightly.

Her smile had always been my weakness, it had always been. It made it easy to trust her, easy to melt into her, easy to feel safe, easy to feel comfortable around her.

Her robe fell to the floor, exposing her nude body, while her hands palmed the outside of my sweatpants, feeling my bulge as I slowly crept back towards the couch. My legs soon hit the welt of the couch as I fell back, Jiwoo falling on top of my lap. Her hands moved around and interlocked behind my neck before pulling my head forwards and smashing our hips together.

Her kiss was delicate, much like her personality. It was deeply soothing, relaxing, even a little nostalgic. It was something raw, something reminiscent of driving through the city of Seoul in the night, something we had done oh so often. The kiss was passionate all the same, it was as if she was finally letting go of all of her pent up emotions, all her pent up frustrations.

Our bodies moved in one fluid motion, complementing each other, completing each other. My hands danced around her naked skin, touching and taking in everything.

We soon separated, both panting for air as a string of saliva connected our lips. I looked at Jiwoo, once again seeing that beautiful smile that made my heart do backflips every time, making me fall harder and harder for her.

Her hands moved and started pulling at my shirt, trying to take it off at an awkward angle. I moved to make it easier for her before she squatted slightly in order for me to slip off my pants and underwear. My erection stood tall and proud, hitting against her bellybutton as I now felt her wet juices coating my thighs. Jiwoo once again pulled my face down and started attacking me again.

Her hips moved in a circular motion, rubbing against me, the friction causing tingles down my spine before she finally stood up slightly and aligned myself with her wet pussy and squatted down.

A familiar sensation spread around my body as all my senses were overwhelmed and shut down. Her body clamped down on my as her upper body held us close, each body part rubbing against each other. Her legs wrapped around my torso as her vagina moulded itself around my dick. My hands moved onto her ass before grabbing it and raising and slamming herself onto my member.

Her legs soon started to spread as her brain couldn't focus on keeping them around me, her mouth opening as lewd noises filled the room we were in. Her head was thrown back as I continued attacking her body with kisses and hickeys. Our skin slapped against each other with each thrust, each time melting us into each other even more.

My body was on fire, my chest rising and falling in rapid succession as if fuelled by a motor as it tried to breathe in all the oxygen I was exerting. My head was also leaning on the backrest of the sofa, groans and moans coming out of me like a symphony of crude noises. My hips pumped myself into my girlfriend, letting go of all the frustration and stress I had as a familiar comfortable burning sensation started boiling inside my stomach.

My thighs were soaked, the wetness creating squelching noises every time Jiwoo landed on me, due to her arousal. My girlfriend's screams grew louder to the point where other campers in the nearby area could probably hear her before she finally hit her high, a high pitched scream coming out of her throat as she hugged me so tight I might have been crushed.

Her pussy tightened around my, creaming on me as it leaked onto my lap, the insides of her milking me as if I were a cow. My stomach felt warner and warner as my own climax neared. I continued fucking her through her high before finally unleashing myself inside her, filling Jiwoo up to the brim while falling over on her.

We both breathed in heavily, desperately trying to catch our breaths. We stayed in that position for a while, just enjoying each other's company before finally getting up and getting dressed.

---

3rd Person POV

The two got out and onto the designated filming area. Y/n quickly took out the necessary equipment, which he had put away before knocking on Jiwoo's door, and started going over the whole filming session with his girlfriend again. He walked over to the lawn chair and started filming.

The sky was beautiful on this side of town, the stars were visible, tempting him to start counting each of them as he started doing the cinematography for the episode.

Time passed and Y/n was about to finish filming before he suddenly felt someone playing around with his pants. His vision shifted quickly, looking down at himself as he was met with the familiar smile of his girlfriend. She simply nodded up, indicating for him to focus on the footage before sliding off his underwear, being hit by his semi hard member.

Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking him a bit until he reached her desired hardness. Jiwoo then continued by sucking on the tip, mixing her saliva with the leaking pre cum as Y/n gathered every ounce of self control he had to keep a steady hand on the camera.

Jiwoo's head bopped up and down as she moved her tongue all around Y/n's dick, trying to suppress any noise that could be heard on the footage. Her cheeks formed an vacuum around her boyfriends cock as she licked from the shaft up to the tip, throating as much as she could before tightening around him.

Y/n tightened his grip on the camera, using whatever little self control he had to not throw it away and give all his attention to the woman on her knees in front of him.

Jiwoo, determined to make him mess up, decided to spice things up and started using both of her hands to jack him off in a twisting motion while also sucking and slurping him off, creating a kind of cycle of pleasure.

This combination almost led to Y/n coming undone right then and there but he still had one trick up his sleeve. He grabbed Jiwoo's head with one arm and pushed her down, making her take every single inch of his length while also silencing her. Her throat tightened around him and gripped every part of his member, subsequently making him climax in a geyser of hot, sticky, liquid that coated her entire oesophagus.

With a shaky hand, Y/n pressed the button on the camera to finish the recording, before putting the camera to the side and exhaling.

Jiwoo stood up, her cheeks puffed, filled with Y/n's cum, before she stood up and gulped, showing her tongue afterwards.

"You're going to get one of us fired one day, you know?"

"As if. Relax, jagi. I don't even have a boss anymore~"

"I just hope nothing was captured by the camera-"

"Relax, Y/n. You can just watch it back later and cut it out or we'll just film again later. Now how about you go put that expensive equipment away and join me back inside? I think our celebration isn't finished yet."

Y/n sighed before standing up and cleaning up while Jiwoo walked back inside their rented trailer.

"It's going to be a long night.", he said before opening the door and locking it.

[7ndipity]

Dating a fellow Idol headcanons

Namjoon x Idol Reader

Warnings: mentions of angst, not proofread

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon for sending this request! I tried to focus on the collab aspect like you wanted, tho now I'm just over here with a non existent song stuck in my head, lol.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

(I actually think someone also in the music industry would be a really good match for him)

Despite being know as the accidental spoiler king for letting little things slip, Joon was super careful when it came to your relationship.

He was very hesitant about going public. Like, that shit kept him up at night, thinkingabout all the things that could go wrong.

He's very protective (admittedly, sometimes a little too much so) and really values your privacy together, so the idea of popping that bubble was kinda terrifying.

But even more frightening was the thought of someone else popping it for you, which had almost happened several times when y'all were spotted together on dates and at events.

You ran in the same friend circles though, so it was easy to deflect rumors, but after so many close calls, you both decided it would be best(or at least better)to be open and honest about it.

Luckily, your fans were mainly happy for the two of you.

You were that insta-goals artsy couple, most of your photos together consisting of aesthetic museum and cafe dates.

Juxtaposed by random, goofy ass clips, like him drunkenly laughing on your couch at like 3am about some dumb joke you'd told him.

One of your favorite 'dates' though were the nights y'all would spend in studio working on music together. It was natural progression that you decided to do collab together.

You had been credited as co-writers on several songs(that was actually how you met fyi), but you'd never actually sang or performed on the same track before.

The song you chose was about missed opportunities and the importance and going after what you really want, rather than hoping for any second chances.

After the collab was announced, there were a few people who accused you of using his popularity for your benefit, but most of that was drowned out by an overwhelming wave of excitement and support from the fans.

The video shoot was a strange mix of fun and awkward. The creative team had decided to film it in a nostalgic, home movie style, with glimpses of the two of you, intercut with different shots from around the city. So it was kinda like going a date, but with a script and a film crew in tow.

It was definitely worth it tho, it was really sweet, both you and the fans loved it.

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

What sort of scandals does rockstar Aemond get the poor girl into?

That photo was the first. But maybe she’ll manage to recover somewhat. Do damage control.

And he wants to FULLY ruin her. So he can keep her

What’s his next move

It's not that Aemond wants to "keep" her. He wants her life entangled with his. He wants her identity to be associated with him. She will have "freedom" but never escape Aemond or the dark entertainment industry

The first scandal is the photos from your birthday. The next occurs when you have to be one of Aemond's song and the music video. You have no choice. Both the song and the video are completely adult theme. It's not a big deal for Aemond but for you it's totally out of your comfort zone and something you have never done before. Aemond is firm and strict throughout the recording and filming, but also makes you feel like only he can comfort you while filming the scenes for the video. To help you ease he even advised you to get a little drunk, practically bringing the bottle to your lips.

Fans were shocked to see you in his music video, in very revealing outfits and Aemond's hands on you. Everyone questioning what happened to the sweet innocent singer. You are still that person but people are seeing you how Aemond wants them to see you

Another scandal is when someone leaked the photo of you drinking on set. Everyone started saying how you let fame corrupt you.

Meanwhile Aemond enjoying the scandals as he enjoying his drugs and women. He will let you recover from this current mess and rope you in more before starting another scandal.

[differenteagletragedy]

mc boys being w a famous mc tho 😳 like being their normal ass husband getting taken to red carpet event. baxter even pales to their star power bc mc became a "household name". can we get some hcs? if you wanna ofc!

This was fun, thank you!!!

-- Baxter is LIVING for the opportunity to do red carpets with you. He needs to go shopping for more suits immediately, and if you don't have a stylist, just saying, he's right there.

Baxter: *texts you a photo of formalwear before a big event* How would you feel about something like this?

You: Don't you have a job?

-- Cove is showing up on that red carpet with half the buttons on his shirt undone. That's his style. Why? I don't know. Let him live.

-- Derek gets one nice suit to wear to events. That's his fancy suit, he only needs one, he doesn't want to be TOO fancy when you're the star of the show.

-- If you're at some awards show and you win, then Cove is too shy to give you a kiss but if you thank him in your speech then he will cry and the video will go viral because it's that sweet.

-- Derek is your hype man. The first time he goes to an event, he might stand up and scream like he's at a sports game whenever you perform/go on stage. That's just instinct.

-- Baxter will kiss you anywhere. If you win an award, he'll quickly make sure your outfit is in place properly before sending you off.

-- If you're a singer, Cove has all your albums. If you're an actress, he has everything you've ever been in. He is your biggest fan.

-- Derek is also your biggest fan. He wears your merch to the gym and if someone asks him about it, well, why don't they pull up a chair so he can brag for hours.

-- Baxter -- surprise! -- also your biggest fan. He may or may not have some alt accounts online so he can destroy anyone who says anything negative about you. If you're in the film industry, he's going to be editing your personal details on your imdb page.

-- He might be a little jerk about it but he'll change it back if you get genuinely upset.

-- You'll have to travel from time to time, either for music tours or press tours. Cove wants to come with you so bad and he might rearrange his life so he can.

-- Derek is going to be checking in on you constantly, making sure you're taking care of yourself. He'll come visit, especially if you tell him you miss him too much.

-- Baxter loves planning weddings, but he would also make a good business manager. I don't think he would, I'd think he'd stick with weddings, but he does have a business background and so he's going to be in your business.

-- If you have to kiss someone in a music video or in a movie or something, Cove isn't gonna love it. He's not going to say anything and it's not like he thinks there's anything behind it at all, he just doesn't like it. He'll even try not to pout because he doesn't want you to feel bad. It's ok, he can just call Cliff and complain about it.

-- Derek doesn't care, you're just working! Do your best, it's ok! Go team!

-- Baxter will tease you about it, but depending on how soon after your reunion it happens he'll be a little sad and insecure on the inside. He will never ever show it though.

[beardedmrbean]

Zoomer Huey, I tend to see people saying why Gen z don’t have sex much.

Holy

Fucking

Shits

These journalists surprisedly have WORSE self awareness than there boomer relatives

Here a hint https://x.com/swannmarcus89/status/1762582001507323991?s=46

And gender dynamics are…nuked in the fields they are surveying. Women and girls are told that all men are predators and misandry is left unchecked

Also, why Hollywood act surprised about the sex abuse?

We all heard about the casting coach, and how suspiciously people from working class backgrounds like Micheal Jackson (yes his dad had his music connections. But essentially mj was a slave and was arguably was the first black child star unless I’m missing someone) and Walt Disney (though not as bad) are painted as monsters while the actual monsters are protected for decades

I mean look at Judy Garland, she was a sweet person and she did help the LBGT in Hollywood and supported the civil rights movement

But her “crazy” behavior makes more sense because she was sexually abused at a extremely young age

And she not the only one, Shirley Temple, the boy who played at the first LA Dennis the Manis

Oh and the Peter Pan actor (a lot of people leave out the part where ALL of Hollywood basically says he can choke and die because he was “too” Disney)

But sorry about the Gen stuff, but the false rape accusations, maybe if you guys didn’t view men (especially white ones) the same way Nazis viewed the Jews while saying all the working class men were Weinstein.

My Gen would have more sex

Entertainment industry has been like that since the beginning of forever, probably less so when women weren't allowed to participate but still a thing I'm sure.

As for Judy Garland it was nice to see people come out swinging in her defense when someone tried to start shit over well

She was not in control of her carer, saying no was not an option for her with this, but dumbasses that can only think in terms of today's standards never think about that.

Jay North (Dennis the Menace) did ok, so did Shirley Temple, plenty of others not so much, more recently we can look at Drew Barrymore and RDJ who both had fairly public meltdowns and problems.

Drew was ruined since her first film was ET and Spielberg takes care of the kids on set, going beyond the legal requirements.

Bobby Driscol was the Peter Pan VA top of his Wiki article.

Robert "Bobby" Cletus Driscoll (March 3, 1937 – c. March 30, 1968) was an American actor who performed on film and television from 1943 to 1960. He starred in some of the Walt Disney Studios' best-known live-action pictures of that period: Song of the South (1946), So Dear to My Heart (1949), and Treasure Island (1950), as well as RKO's The Window (1949). He served as the animation model and provided the voice for the title role in Peter Pan (1953). He received an Academy Juvenile Award for outstanding performances in So Dear to My Heart and The Window.

He just fell into the child actor pit, where he wasn't "cute" anymore couldn't get gigs and couldn't adjust to not being in the spotlight, the way he went and nobody knowing is awful to think about still.

Jackie Coogan, on the other hand was a different story.

His parents sucked and as a result there's a series of laws named after him California's Coogan Law all about protecting the earnings of child actors from their parents. % goes into a trust iirc.

He ended up OK in the end though

The false accusation thing, #me too hurt women because #believe women was taken advantage of to such a degree that even this coming out to light

has still probably not cleared up for the trooper, and men are opting to not mentor women because of not wanting to risk a false accusation, everyone screams about how rare they are, to which I say so what, why should they assume the risk even if it's minor

Former VP Mike Pence came out and said he won't be alone with a woman that's not his wife in order to ensure that there is no possibility of someone making a claim of impropriety.

And he got this response

Why is anyone going to put their neck on the line when something like what he said is going to get this kind of response.

Maybe instead of crying about how rare false accusations are they should focus on shaming the people making them and coming up with solutions to keep them from happening.

You know instead of blaming the victims of the false accusations.

All this and so much more going on that isn't in this ask goes to the I don't blame people for not having as much sex, it's actually kinda nice too, fewer std's this way.

I went on a couple tangents, hope that's ok

[bjyxobsessed]

The behind the scenes videos - SO MANY COINCIDENCES! 🔥🤭😆

🍬XZ’s video opens with a tiny video screen (and don’t think I don’t see all those little read and green lights!) and later in Yibo’s video there’s the coordination with the TV props and this shot with the video camera… almost as if they were making it look like he filmed XZ’s earlier 😉

By the way the music in Yibo’s video is Dayflower by Cathedral Bells - gotta love how the Captain hammers 🔨🔨🔨😂

XZ’s video featured a glimpse of a white peony - and we know whose nickname that was when he first started in the industry 😏

And just a little of my own CPN, it seems like the photo shoots where Yibo is rumored to be with XZ or they are getting ready for an event together, we catch these little glimpses of fond smiles… Which seem so reminiscent of interactions when they were filming and promoting that I like to think he’s looking at Yibo 🥹

But the 🍬 to beat ALL other candy is the video XZ dropped on Douyin after the event. Yibo left the venue early (supposedly he had to get back to his filming set - Baby had a LONG day with work in the early morning then prepping for and doing the show).

The post says something like “It happened that as Xiao Zhan walked in, light and darkness meets.” UM HELLO? Yes sir we DID see the two of you in black and white but thanks for hitting me over the head about it 😂

We got soft-focus Xiao Zhan walking around - a house? Hotel room? Like he’s waiting for someone… With the smooth r&b jazzy sounds of Aaron Taylor singing “I will leave the lights on until you get home” before the music transitions to something you keep on your “Sexy Alone Time with Bae” playlist…

YOU CAN NOT TELL ME ALL THIS WAS NOT PURPOSEFUL! Imagine your partner is working so hard, squeezes some time to be able to show up at the same event with you, then has to be right back at work… It’s a rough day for them🥺 Isn’t this just the type of sweet shout out you’d post if you lived in a world where you couldn’t shout it from the rooftops?? 🥹

It’s still hitting me right in the feels… XZ doesn’t drop 🍬candy, he drops 💣BOMBS that destroy with sweetness…

All this and I didn’t even touch on the rumor that some XZ-only fans spotted them together at the hotel or the video from right after the show ended and XZ came backstage, where fans say you can hear him asking his staff where Yibo is…

Anyway, this is all CPN and dreams 😏😉

[pinkacadessays]

Jackie, Marilyn, and Elle: Comparing and Contrasting two ICONS to remind us that Warner was WRONG

Too BLONDE?? An Introuction

Elle Woods’ iconic journey in Legally Blonde is prompted by Warner Huntington III breaking up with her.The comments made are how Warner needs to be “serious,” and the deep blow of how if he’s to be a senator, he needs to marry “a Jackie, not a Marilyn.”

While in the musical, the scene adds an implication that Warner thinks Elle is “tacky,” Elle’s thought process leads her to summarise Warner’s viewpoint as being that Elle is “too blonde.”

Warner sees Marilyn Monroe and Jackie Kennedy as being two polar opposites- one the sultry actress knows for ‘bimbo’ film roles, and the other the respectable wife of the President of the United States.

But Elle can’t fathom differences between these women aside from their appearance.

Let us analyse what can be compared and contrasted between two iconic women.

In the climax of Legally Blonde, Elle discovers that Chutney Wyndham is the real perpetrator due to her knowledge of hair care. As Elle notes, “any Cosmo girl would’ve known.” It is Elle’s feminine knowledge that guides her to victory in her very first trial. With that in mind, let us examine the feminine knowledge of Marilyn and Jackie as our real-life role models to Elle Woods, and uncover just why she sees so little difference between these fascinating women.

A note before we begin: this is not a competition. But Warner sees it that way, and the purpose therefore is to remind him just how wrong he is.

Marilyn Monroe: Political Powerhouse

Firstly, Marilyn Monroe is known to most as either the glamorous actress of 1950s films- such as the notorious Gentlemen Prefer blondes, which certainly could have influenced Elle’s mindset, especially with the pink drama of the Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend sequence. Others may know her from regularly recreated images, such as her holding her blowing-up skirt from The Seven Year Itch, or the pop art portrait by Andy Warhol.

Either way, the most prominent images in the heads of many in regards to Marilyn Monroe are glamorous, sexy, feminine- and blonde and pink, of course.

Famously, like Elle, Marilyn’s femininity and sex appeal lead her to being boxed into roles of the comedic blonde bombshell, though the fought to be out of her typecasting.

After the success of “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” and “How to Marry a Millionaire,” Marilyn was offered what would have been a third ‘dumb blonde’ in “The Girl in Pink Tights,” she not only refused, but CNN’s article ‘How Marlyn took the male-led film industry and flipped it on its head” notes that she reportedly labelled it “Trash.”

In that same article, Mira Sorvino is quoted. “She was the main attraction,” the actress notes, saying “she was the reason people flocked to the theatre. So it was insane that she wasn’t in a more powerful position in terms of salary.” The reference here is to Marilyn’s discovery that Frank Sinatra, her would-be co-star in “The Girl in Pink Tights” was offered $5000, while Marilyn was offered $1,500- a third of Frank’s pay.

The article points out that Marilyn’s contract was changed after the snub, showing Marilyn to be valuing her feminine charm and wiles that made her studio so much money and garnered them so much attention. Is this why Warner does not wish for Elle to see Marilyn as aspirational, given she was something of an upstart?

Not to mention, Warner doesn’t seem like the biggest advocate for equal pay…

A lesser-known contribution that Marilyn made to her society was in the civil rights movement, drawing attention to Ella Fitzgerald.

The Biography article by Sara Kettler titled “Ella Fitzgerald and Marilyn Monroe: Inside Their Surprising Friendship” opens with a photo of the songstress and the starlet smiling together in conversation. Kettler notes how Marilyn helped Ella get a gig in Mocambo, the famous LA nightclub. Marilyn “promised to come every night” that Ella was booked, and to “bring along other celebrities.” With this promise of publicity, Ella was granted several weeks employment at the famous club.

Kettler also notes that, despite Ella’s success, some clubs would hire Ella, but still have her enter through the side door “due to the colour of her skin.” In order to combat such prejudice, Marilyn “refused to go inside unless both she and Fitzgerald were allowed through the front doors.

Marilyn may not have been dying on the front lines of the civil rights movement, but she was using her status to forward the career of someone directly affected by said movement.

Marilyn used a name built as a blonde bombshell in order to be an influential activist, just as Elle Woods being a Cosmo girl is what won her her first legal trial.

Have we emphasised enough that Warner doesn’t know his rear end from his elbow when it comes to powerful women? Perhaps Warner doesn’t want a Marilyn, not because she’s blonde, but because she was an upstart who knew her own mind and fought to make her own way in the world. Is that just too much for him to handle?

Jackie Kenney: First Lady of Fashion

On the side of Jackie Kennedy, later Jackie Onassis, she is of course best known due to her time as First Lady of the United States. She was from a respectable family, studied French literature in university, and is perceived largely as classy, elegant, and educated. To this day, she is cited as an image of grace, with This week in Libraries magazine writing “In the realms of elegance, poise, and grace, one name reigns supreme- Jackie Kennedy.”

While Jackie’s other accomplishments are not to be overlooked, let us focus on traditionally feminine aspects of life that she has embodied to remember the value of both aspects of her, and of Elle.

As Vogue writes, “Before Jackie graced the halls of the White House, she trod those of this very magazine,” referring to her job as junior editor of Vogue, immediately showing that, like Elle, Jackie not only had political potential, but fashion icon potential early on in her life.

It should be noted that Jackie “quit by mid-morning,” as the environment was not suited to her goals, however, she is still heavily associated with the magazine as she contributed to salvaging the Temple of Dendur, which has played host to the Met Gala, as noted by Vogue.

This Week in Libraries also notes Jackie as a “Style Icon,” praising her boucle suits, pearls, and, of course, her pillbox hats- the latter being described as “synonymous  with her name.”

It’s also not just her connection with Vogue that cements Jackie’s name in the world of fashion, as countless articles have addressed her style as “timeless” or “iconic,” so why exactly does Warner have such an issue with committing to a woman with a degree in fashion merchandising?

Town and Country’s list “11 Brands Jackie Kennedy Loved” notes how Gucci named the Jackie bag after her, and I wish for that kind of influence for Elle Woods, which I thibk highlights just how much of an influence that Jackie would have potentially had on Elle.

Warner, your Jackie was in front of you all along.

And of course, while steeped in tragedy, it is nonetheless fair to say that one of the most iconic images of Jackie is of her pink suit on the day of her husband’s assassination. Loathe to overlook the horrors of such an event, but be that as it may, it emphasises that Jackie Kennedy is just as pink and pretty as Marilyn Monroe.

In the Legally Blonde sequel Red, White, and Blonde, Elle even sports a tribute to this suit, which really sends home how far Warner is from the mark.

On that note, let us now discuss beautiful pink outfits worn by Jackie to intensify how connected Jackie can be to Elle. Firstly, the aforementioned suit became an iconic moment of defiance as Jackie bore the bloodstains, cited as saying “let them see what they’ve done.”

She also had a similar sleeveless suit designed by Oleg Cassini, as well as a matching coat and hat worn in New Delhi.

One of her other beautiful pink moments was a floor length, strapless Dior gown worn with white opera gloves. Other pink outfits include a dress with a unique pink bow detail by Joan Morse, and a high-collared suit by Oleg Cassini. The point here is not to simply list pink outfits, but to remind us that a woman- such as Elle- can be fashionable, elegant, and bright pink, AND be a force of change.

Elle Woods knows that Marilyn and Jackie had it all: fashion girl status, and cultural and political know-how; and frankly, it’s lucky for her that Warner knew less about these iconic women than she did.

Always have Faith in Yourself

And to my masculine girls, you’re the real winners here, because Warner would probably be threatened by your vibes. Not only are you valid, but take comfort in not attracting Warner Huntington III.

Let us remember to value our own self worth, just as Elle did when she shows us all how valuable she could be- and she did it in a playboy costume.

WE DID IT!! To Conclude

In conclusion, my place is not to overlook one woman, or pit her against another; it is not to overlook one woman’s achievements and put them against the achievements of another woman; it is not even to claim traditional femininity as a pinnacle of achievement, or to explore what it means to be a feminist, or anything so grandiose.

My intention here is just to remind us all, whether we relate more to the story of a Marilyn or a Jackie, to always have faith in ourselves, and to always remember that the Warner Huntington III we have in our own lives is a bonehead.

[unholyverse]

waterparks // alternative press issue #341

(full article text under cut)

WATERPARKS

THESE POP-PUNK UPSTARTS HAVE CATCHY SONGS, AN ENDORSEMENT FROM THE MADDENS AND AN UNIRONIC LOVE FOR HAIR DYE AND FUNKY-COLORED JELL-O. THEY ALSO HAVE A LOT TO PROVE-AND THEY'RE READY TO GET TO WORK.

STORY: EVAN LUCY x PHOTOS: JONATHAN WEINER

Awsten Knight knows what you're thinking: This time last year, his band, Waterparks, were veritable nobodies. You'd probably not heard their two EPs (2012's Airplane Conversations and 2014's Black Light), and the band's SEO was likely so suspect, there's no way a Google search would place the Houston-based trio above their hometown Wet 'n' Wild.

What a difference a trip around the sun. makes. Since late last year, the group scored a record deal with Equal Vision, picked up Good Charlotte's Benji and Joel Madden as their managers, performed at the 2016 APMAS and even graced the cover of AP's Warped Tour issue-all before releasing their first album. Along the way, they've cultivated a passionate (and ever-growing) fanbase, thanks to an irreverent sense of humor, insatiable work ethic and saccharine-sweet pop-rock sound. But as their star has grown, so have the rumors and confusion about just how they ended up on a collision course with success.

"I saw somebody online say, 'Isn't this that industry-plant band? Like we were made by a label or something." Knight remarks from Los Angeles, where he and his bandmates are putting the finishing touches on bonus tracks for their debut full-length, Double Dare, and filming a video for the album's first single, "Stupid For You." "People are always like, "Where'd this band come from? This band blew up overnight! That's really not the case."

Indeed, it's been a grind for Waterparks, who formed back in 2011 and, after years of hustle and hard work, got signed last year after a demo serendipitously ended up in Equal Vision's online submission box. Even today, as Waterparks—Knight, guitarist/vocalist Geoff Wigington and drummer Otto Wood-seem to have an indefinite amount of momentum and a limitless future, there's always some humbling experience to remind them the big time is still a few steps away. Look no further than their method of transportation for this summer's Warped Tour: a modified Sprinter van handily equipped with sleeping quarters- but no air conditioning.

"The van didn't have A/C until we got to the North, Knight remembers. "We did Texas and Florida, the whole South, with no A/C. People thought we were in a bus. It'd be like, 'Oh yeah, when you guys go back to your bus…" He laughs. "How can you be egotistical when you're sitting there in a sweaty van going, 'Fucking kill me?'"

Lifestyles of the rich and famous it isn't, but that's fine with Waterparks. They're used to surprising people, whether it's with their origin story or their music. A testament to both their artistic vision and desire not to be pigeonholed as just another pop-punk band, Double Dare sounds like an album made by three men raised in iPod shuffle culture. The album opener "Hawaii (Stay Awake)" skews toward more standard pop-punk fare (a sound that definitely provides a backbone for the 12 tracks that follow), but the band are quick to add bits of pop, electronica and (surprisingly) hip- hop to the melting pot, leaving Double Dare feeling instantly reminiscent, yet wildly unpredictable. There's the unabashed pop charm of "Take Her To The Moon," a DeLorean ride back to the scene's neon days that's awash in glassy synths; the biting "Little Violence," which takes aim at "fake-ass band guys," along with the now-defunct site AbsolutePunk; "Stupid For You," a roller coaster of vocal runs mixed with razor-sharp hooks; and the jittery "Dizzy," which combines mile-a-minute rapped verses with a towering half-time chorus.

Knight, a textbook over-writer, wrote and demoed more than 40 songs for the album, which the group whittled down to the 17 or so they actually tracked in Los Angeles with producers Courtney Ballard and Benji Madden. What makes Double Dare such an engaging listen is not just the songwriting, but the way Waterparks dress it up. Throughout the album, Knight's voice serves almost as a third guitar, cutting in and out and swirling around the mix to give things added depth and a secret sonic weapon their peers lack.

"Listen to Kesha," Knight implores. "People have heard a lead guitar a billion times-no one gives a shit about a sick guitar lead. What's going to sound sonically cooler to the average human: a lead guitar- which people have been hearing for the longest time- or the literally unlimited sounds I can cut my voice up into and make it [serve the same purpose]? It just sounds cooler."

As a teenager, Knight studied raps by the likes of Busta Rhymes and Ludacris (he even performed a cover of Fergie's "Fergalicious" at an early show), and he thinks it would be "sweet" to be in a boy band. "You have to stand out, otherwise there's nothing interesting about what you're doing," he explains. "We've always tried to do different shit. A lot of our songs are a pop-driven thing, but it's a band. Girl-pop, to me, is the best genre [in music]. Even if you don't speak English and you hear a Kesha song or a Katy Perry song, it's going to sound so good. The melody is everything: It sounds so happy. Put those songs next to whatever progressive metal band and their fucking guitar sweeps. That's the difference between being a band people like and being a musician's band. [Adopts nerdy voice] 'Oh, that time signature change, blah blah! No one gives a shit except nerdy dudes, and nerdy dudes aren't going to buy your record, anyway. I want to make shit my little sister and her friends would be into."

If Knight is that unabashedly honest about his musical intentions, the words he writes take it a step further. At its core, Double Dare is the antithesis to the public image Waterparks have cultivated over the years. From their irreverent music videos to any number of off- the-rails interviews (including some from this summer's Warped Tour where Knight donned a wedding veil), the band's public persona is that of perpetual Peter Pans. While that might be true (Knight frequently drops words like "butthurt" in conversation), the open-book nature of his lyrics here reveals life isn't all fun and feces jokes.

As such, the songs on Double Dare read like pages ripped from a personal journal. Whether he's dealing with crippling insecurity ("I wish I was as brave as my last name"), self-doubt ("And I'm doing all right/ But is 'all right' enough?/Because I'm living my dreams, but I live at home") or true love ("If you died, I'd hope you'd haunt me"), Knight's words are blunt, painstakingly detailed and instantly relatable. He might project as a court jester, but he's deadly serious about his art.

"There's a time when Awsten can be serious, and that's when he's talking about his music, Benji Madden offers. "In order to sell records or magazines, people feel like they have to be sensational or play a funny game. If you talk to Awsten about anything other than music, you'll get totally jokey, bullshit answers-which I love. But if you talk to him about music, he's a really smart, intentional, thoughtful guy."

"Being honest about it is the best way to go about it," Knight says of his songs. "I've never liked the vague lyrics, like, [jokingly sings] "I've gotta find my way. I've gotta get out of this place! All my favorite lyricists are killer with metaphors or are able to uniquely describe things. I like getting into things and being specific." He references the acoustic ballad "21 Questions," easily one of the album's highlights, but a song slated for the cutting-room floor until Madden stepped in. ("I feel like that song could be one of those scene classics," the Good Charlotte guitarist offers.) It's hard to imagine the album without it.

Outside of being a steady hand in the studio, the Maddens are the perfect mentors for Knight, Wigington and Wood. After all, it was 15 years ago that Good Charlotte went through everything Waterparks are currently navigating, claims of being a test-tube band and all. They've learned everything is cyclical, and they're passing on the lessons they learned to the bands they manage.

"They're so wise," Wigington explains in a separate interview. "You shut up and listen. They've told us, 'Hey, things are going to start getting weird. There will be things you haven't been used to, especially if you're out on the road! But they've told us to look out for each other and have each other's back and helped instill a sense of camaraderie so we can deal with whatever weird shit comes our way."

If their current career trajectory continues, things will be getting weirder and weirder in the Waterparks camp soon. The band have secured the opening spot on Sleeping With Sirens' fall tour, and they're already making plans well into 2017. With a new album ready and the furthest reaches of the scene at their fingertips, it seems like there's really no limit to how big this thing can get. It's already surpassed their wildest dreams in the past year; imagine what one more could bring. Not that it would change their demeanor, of course.

"I'd like to be able to live comfortably to the point where I could ride a bike into a swimming pool filled with Jell-O and have it not be a big deal," Knight says unflinchingly, when asked what success would look like for him. "I was thinking blue or purple because I like cooler colors. Red seems messy. Not yellow or orange, because I don't like those flavors as much. I used to be allergic to blue dye when I was younger, so I'd probably pick that just so I could be like, 'Fuck you." alt

[harrisonarchive]

George and Olivia Harrison at the premiere of the HandMade Films production How To Get Ahead In Advertising in London on July 25, 1989; photo by Mark Anderson/Camera Press London.

“I’ve spent too long in the garden. (soft laugh) So the concept of going on a TV show with Jerry Springer or whatever his name is, to try to talk about something while everybody’s punching each other — that to me is pathetic. To try and sell something like that, you sell your soul! That’s why I just feel I can’t go back into the side of the industry that’s become this way. And that’s why I’m just going along with that girl from ABBA [Agnetha Faltskog] who chat-show people criticize for being off on an island these days and out of touch with the music business. One fellow on television actually said, 'She had a beautiful ass but now she is an ass!' It was so nasty, can you believe it? But she’s probably much more spiritual, much more content, and just a better person to her family and friends. Did you see that movie made for Handmade Films called 'How To Get Ahead In Advertising'? It was written and directed by Bruce Robinson, who hated the Thatcherism going on at the time he made the picture. It’s about this bloke in this advertising agency who’s under heavy stress to have this campaign for pimple lotion done by Monday. He ends up getting a big boil on his neck and the boil gets bigger and bigger, and it manifests into this face. One day he looks in the mirror and says, 'The bastard looks just like me!' He’s getting sick of the lies and the bullshit of this industry, saying, 'They won’t be happy until every fucking one of us is crouching in some hatchback on a motorway,' and he’s trying to withdraw from it. But the boil, this head is his bad side, and it’s taking over. He goes into the hospital, and they lance the real head, and it’s the boil side that comes back to work! It’s a very bizarre black comedy about the conflict between the greed and the moral stance against it.” - George Harrison, Billboard, June 19, 1999 (x)