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machifuwa · 1 year

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Nimbus Fumble | Episode 5

Season: Winter

The Next Day

Aira: Himemiya-senpai! This is so tough! Really tough!

Tori: Good mo–Woah!? Shitatori, did you wake up and come straight here!? I'm feeling like a terrible sleeper right now, though!?

Haah. You do know that we're going to film a video, right? Come here, let me fix you.

Aira: Ehh? Himemiya-senpai's doing my hair? It's like a dream even though I'm supposed to be awake. I could eat three bowls of rice just for that…♪

—Crap, this isn't the time for this! Look! Please take a look at this!

Tori: Hm? What's in your phone?

Aira: Yesterday, you took a picture of me dancing the rabbit dance, right? That was immediately uploaded to SNS. And then!

It's been spreading like crazy! I'm getting a lot of favorites from it.

I also received comments from people saying they were looking forward to the baton! I can't believe the responses were so immediate!

Tori: Heh~ Isn't that great? This is the first step towards success!

If they're expecting so much from you, then you have to be really excited about today's shoot. Since I'm going to be in it, we need to get everyone more excited!

Aira: You're right!

Kohaku: Hm~? Good morning to you both. What are ya doin' here so early in the mornin'ー?

Woah!?

Aira & Tori: Aah!

Kohaku: Waah…! I hit the tripod with all my might and knocked it over! I-I'm so sorry! I was distracted. I hope it's not broken…?

Aira: Let's see…? Yeah, it looks fine. It doesn't look broken.

Kohaku: Aah… I'm glad. The equipment looked so expensive that I was afraid I would break it.

I can't stand this. From the looks of it, you guys have been gathering equipment and stuff, huh?

I'll help you with whatever chores you need. You can use me as your lackey. I don't know what you're doin', though.

Aira & Tori: You'll help us!?

Kohaku: Huh? Well, if it's somethin' I'm good at.

But what the. I have a bad feelin' about this…?

After explaining the situation to Kohaku

Kohaku: N-No way! There is no way I'm wearin' that!

Aira: Ehh~? Why? You look lovely. Don't worry, I'm sure Kohakucchi's gonna look cute and good.

Kohaku: No way! It's not about whether it will look good on me or not.

Yes, I did say I would help, but I meant it in the sense of hard work and chores, not as somethin' to dance around with those ears…

Tori: We understand~ Aaah~, I'm glad the camera isn't broken. It's not, but I'm sure it has some tiny scratches or something. I mean, it fell over, after all.

Kohaku: Ugh…! That's unfair…!

Aira: I would be very happy if Kohakucchi would help us.

Besides, it's a rare opportunity to collaborate with Himemiya-senpai and Kohakucchi like this ♪ It'll surely be a topic of discussion.

Hey, do you really not want to…?

Kohaku: …Ugh.

(Don't look at me like that. It would be hard for me to refuse…!)

(But, it was my fault that I almost broke the camera... I had no choice but to be ready for this!)

Fine, I'll do it. I'll just dance this rabbit dance, right?

Tori: Ehh! You're really going to?

Kohaku: …You're one pompous prankster. You were threatening me just now.

Well, it's okay. If we're going to dance, let's do it ASAP. I just want to get this over with.

If...If someone from Crazy:B...especially Rinne-han saw me here, I'm sure I'd kill myself right here, right now.

Tori: Eh!? You're going that far!?

Aira: T-Then, let's hurry up and take a shot!

Pyon ♪

Tori: Pyon-pyon ♪

Kohaku: Ra…rabbit's pyon ♪

(Aaaaah! It's even tougher than I expected…! Just kill me right noooow!)

Aira & Tori: Pyon ♪

Kohaku: Haah, haah… F-Finally, the hellish time's over.

Hm? That sound just now…?

Madara: Yahoo! Kohaku-saaan!

Kohaku: Urgh…

Madara: I guess the teachings of our forefathers are still the greatest wisdom. "The early bird gets the worm!" I'm really glad I got up early, I was able to see such a cute dance from Kohaku-san as a result.

I couldn't help but capture every bit of Kohaku-san's appearance on video. This will be a great souvenir ☆ Let's watch it together every time Kohaku-san grows older!

Kohaku: ……

Madara: Hm? What's the matter, Kohaku-san? Your face is as red as a boiled octopus. But there seems to be something wrong with it…?

Kohaku: Aah…AAAAAAHHH!!!

Madara: Woah!? What's wrong, Kohaku-san!? Please don't try to take my phone away from me!

Kohaku: You're being too loud! I'll smash that phone to pieces, and I'll smash you together with it!

Madara: What in the world!? S-Stop! Let's just calm down, huh, Kohaku-san!?

Kohaku: I'm not going to let this calm me down! I'll make sure you never see the light of day again!

Madara: I really wish you'd go back to being such a cute little rabbit like earlier. I wish he'd go back to the way he was before! Can you bring back the Kohaku-san earlier!?

Kohaku: Shut up!

Aira: Umm… It seems like Kohakucchi went after Mikejima-senpai.

Tori: Well, that doesn't matter, right? We got the video nicely, too ♪ But you'd better think about who you're going to pass the baton to next, Shiratori.

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Aira: Ah, yes. I'll see who I can turn to ♪

- - - - -

#ensemble stars #enstars #kohaku oukawa #aira shiratori #tori himemiya #madara mikejima

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bellarkeselection · 2 years

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I need like a really cute fanfic of Y/n and Peter Parker please and thank you but wait it also needs to be long

Parker's Girl

Request from @lydiastarkofwinterfell The reader is Tony's daughter and secretly dating Peter. She sneaks out with her own iron suit her dad made to see her boyfriend.

This is my first time writing for Peter so I hope I did good

Slowly I sneak down to the basement in the Avengers tower swiping my hand over the keypad unlocking the door. Rushing to grab my iron suit. Let's clear some things up here shall we. Hi, my name is Y/n Stark. Yes you heard it right, I said Stark. Meaning the famous Tony Stark or Iron Man as the press like to call him nowadays is my father. "Jarvis don't let my dad know I'm gone." Tapping in a few numbers on another key pad the window opens and I fly outside.

Flying through the city buildings I smile seeing everyone else below me. I've never been afraid of heights so flying is the greatest thing in the world. My mother is Pepper Potts who used to be my dad's assistant until they fell for each other. I land down one street away from my boyfriend's apartment. Swiping my right hand over the other hand the whole suit transforms into a silver bracelet on my left hand. Knocking on his door his aunt May answers with a smile. "Y/n, come in. I made meatloaf." Taking my jacket off I lay it on the couch, seeing Peter.

"Hi baby, I thought you were busy." He got to his feet gently hugging me with a smile. I hug back matching his smile. "My dad sent me over to talk about a new conference he wanted you to attend." I lie since his aunt doesn't know he's a superhero, Spider Man. A camera goes off for us to see his aunt grinning. "You two are so adorable." Peter and I both blush lightly when she put the picture on the fridge. Who would have thought the daughter of the famous billionaire would end up with a small neighborhood kid whose obsessed with her father's tech would end up together.

Peter and I go to his room locking the door just in case his aunt comes by. "So I think I fixed the web shooter." He said pulling out his Spider Man outfit. Plopping down on his bed I examine it in my hands. I'm not as good as my dad when it comes to Tech, that's why I use Jarvis half the time. "Seems to be okay. If you want I can have Jarvis scan it." Lifting my bracelet I call Jarvis. "Jarvis, run a scan protical on this." But the voice I hear reply makes me and Peter froze. "I ran the numbers and it appears you're busted missy."

"Ah dad! How did you find me?" I shriek blushing deeply seeing his video picture appearing above my bracelet. Peter blushed rubbing the back of his neck. "Hi, uh Mr. Stark..." My father waves to him a stern look on his face that turns into a playful smirk. "I made your suit, princess. Did you honestly think I wouldn't put a tracking chip inside it. I mean come on, I'm Tony Stark." I facepalm myself embarrassed that I didn't see that one coming. "Mr. Stark I would - uh just like to say. I've been good to - your daughter." My boyfriend stutters out taking my freehand in his still nervous.

My dad aims his index finger at him warningly. "You better keep it that way, kid." Peter nods quickly before I remove my bracelet tossing it on his desk. Peter leans forward kissing me gently and I kiss back. My arms wrapped around his neck deepening the kiss until I heard my father's voice still here. "I didn't authorize any kissing." Peter and I both blush deeply embarrassed until I grab my bracelet telling my dad off. "Hang up the phone dad. I'll be home before dinner."

Comment and reblog 🤗

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spider man #avengers #avengers masterlist #request #ask box is open for anything #peter parker x stark reader

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fangirlings-things · 4 years

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The Border Control Project [Part. 1]

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake x female reader

Summary: you're Tyler's next mission and turns out, you need him more than you want to

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: curse words, mentions of violence and kidnapping

Based on this imagine

Gif credit: @thoresque

A/N: let me know if you guys want a part 2 or to be tagged like @posiemax asked to (it was sweet, thank youuu). I have many ideas to this series, so let me know what you think!!

Part. 2

Theme song: Shameless, Camila Cabello

Right now I'm shameless

Screaming my lungs out for you

Not afraid to face it

I need you more than I want to

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

It had been what? Two, maybe three days?

You had lost track of time. After so much time in the dark, it happens. Your mind just washes away and it seems like you're floating in space, with nowhere to go and nothing to do.

The blindfold in your eyes kept the light away and the restrains in your arms, made your whole body ache. The matress under you was actually soft, but even fluffy clouds could feel like a stone after being kept in the same position for so long.

Your throat was dry and hurt because of how you had screamed. Screams that were muffled by the gag you had in your mouth.

Every single spot those men had touched burned like a small fire and threatened to explode you. You were pretty sure you had marks all over. They hadn't been gentle when kidnapping you from the middle of the bloody street.

You was tired, scared and wanted to leave. Go back to your life. But you knew you couldn't. There was no getting out of there.

Taking a deep breath you tried to steady your heavy breathing, moving your hands against the restrains, to get maybe just a little more comfortable. Just a little.

That, was all you could do.

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

"Something new is up?"

That was the question Tyler had made when he got a call from Nik. It was unexpected, surprising. After what happened in Bangladesh many months ago, he had done a few other jobs, but none of them with her. Now, though, she seemed pretty determined to get him on board of whatever was happening. It intrigued him, made him frown while holding the phone against his left ear.

He had been laying low since his last mission, the elimination of a target that he completed successfully in Greece. That mission had been fast, too easy. Since that, he had been wasting all the money he got in alcohol and cigarettes. Living each day with the usual boredom of loneliness and headache due to the all the booze. The opportunity to get into some action and do something useful, sounded really good. Truth was, the idea of being fired at excited him, as twisted as it was.

That and all the cash that Nik said was at stake made him get into a plane two days later and land on Guadalajara, Mexico, where Nik had told them to meet. Now he found himself in the back of a rented apartment in a simple building, located in a poor part of the city. Description was a thing Nik valued a lot, and one of the things that made her so good at her job. The room was filled with people he didn't really know, although some of those faces were familiar from previous jobs. Over tables and armchairs ultimate technology they frequently used on missions had been gathered up, just waiting to be used when the operation began.

"Listen up people, let's begin" Nik said out loud, bringing all the attention to herself as everyone instantly stopped talking by hearing her voice. She was a natural leader, no doubt about that. Pressing a single button on the control of the projector that had been installed hours before, she made a photo show up there for everyone to see.

It was the image of a twenty year old girl. She was smiling to the camera as someone took a picture of her and the park she was in. She looked calm, happy. If her image was being shown there though, Tyler knew that something really bad had probably happened to that girl.

"Her name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)" Nik said, after taking a step to the side to give everyone on the room a good view of the girl's face. "Her father is a US senator who's been a big name on the Congress for almost ten years" someone whistled, and others nodded in agreement. With only that being said, they already knew it would be a great case to work on. "Four days ago, she was kidnapped here in Guadalajara" she pressed the button again on the control, and a video started playing on the projector.

It was a security footage obviously, due to the black and white image and low resolution. In it the girl was walking on the street camly, carrying a backpack and wearing headphones. It was late at night, the corner of the footage marked 21:37. She was alone, and there was no one else on the street. That was the perfect opportunity for a kidnapping, Tyler thought to himself, and the response to that came seconds later.

A van approached the girl suddenly, apparently coming out of nowhere. Stopped by her side and before she could even do anything, the back door was opened and three masked men stormed upon her. She tried to run, but they had no trouble in grabbing her violently by her arms and legs and throw her on the inside of the van, leaving behind only her now destroyed phone. The whole thing happened in less than twenty seconds. No one noticed a thing, no one saw anything. That had been extremely well planned.

"Do we know who they are?" a guy with glasses Tyler had never seen before asked, analyzing with full attention the video that started playing again in replay.

"Negative. We couldn't get anything from the security videos and the family doesn't know specifically who could be behind it, but five hours later the Senator recieved a call" as Nik pressed the button again, an audio file started to roll and filled everyone's ears.

Senator (Y/L/N), we have your lovely daughter. If you don't drop the Border Control Project on the presentation day, she dies.

And then the robotic adapted voice was gone. That was it. Short, harsh and objective.

"What's the Border Control Project?" Tyler was the one who made the question, before anyone else did the same. With his arms crossed over his chest, his mind was working fast in taking in all the information he was receiving. He knew he would need them in the future.

"A project created by Senator (Y/L/N) to expand the police activity in the mexican-american border. If this project is approved on the mentioned presentation day, trafficking rotes will be affected, illegal transportations will be extremely lowered" Nik explained, dropping the control on the nearest table with a sight. "Dealers, politicians, traffickers, a lot of people could be behind it"

"So our only approach is to go after the girl herself" Tyler stated firmly, and the others agreed.

"Yes, we rescue her. And possibly in the meantime, figure out who did this. Senator said he will pay three times more if we do" some of the team members started clapping and Nik rolled her eyes, but had a smile on her lips. They were mercenarys, money was their greatest worry and desire.

"What was she doing in Mexico?" a middle aged woman with blond straight hair that was in the other end of the room across the australian, was the next one to make a question.

"She got a six month transfer to the local University. Student exchange happens at least twice a year between Mexico and the United States" Nik answered and then crossed her own arms over her chest. "We start the operation within two days. Tyler will do the field work, were going to give him all the support he needs. Meanwhile, we prepare yourselves. Got it?"

Everyone agreed and started to go to work, opening computers and printing files. Tyler didn't move, just looked around in complete silence. Nik was the one who approached him.

"You're good with this?" she asked, inspecting his features for any sign of denial.

He nodded, averting his eyes back to the projector where someone had again projected the picture of the girl smiling. Looking deeply into her eyes, Tyler sighted.

"I'm gonna need a whole file on her, anything you can find. When I get to her, I have to know or have something that will make her trust me"

He had no doubt. He would find her.

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #extraction #extraction fanfic #extraction imagine #tyler rake fanfic #tyler imagine #tyler x reader #tyler rake x reader #tyler rake imagine #tyler rake #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth imagine

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theelliottsmiths · 4 years

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So anyway, Mein Herz Brennt Making of liveblog, one of my favourites

First of all, I do take any use of piano MHB as a slight towards my tiny hands. -1 point

I really would love to visit this place, it's beautiful

I love that Oli introduces it and then Till is straight in there talking about murder and stabbings. Trust that to be what intrigues him. I feel like 'smells like murder' isn't a direct translation but that's purely because I spent like ten minutes trying to work out what words he says. It rhymes, which is suspicious.

Oh this was before he let his chest piercing reject all the way out in the grossest way

When schneider says Krankenhaus it sounds very Geordie and I'm convinced that kind of thing is why Auf Wiedersehen, Pet was created

Richards eyes light up when he's talking about the room he's in and it's one of those looks where it's just. I would love to listen to anything anyone has to say when their eyes have that sparkle.

"the scavengers had already been here" cue Paul talking about his criminal past thieving from there. See, another example everyone forgets of him being the biggest bastard of them all. The smile is a front.

One of my favourite ever Rammstein things is the combined joy and mockery from Paul when Richard is revealed to be wearing the bird mask and it wiggles as he nods. He looks like a little black cockatoo. Richard looks embarrassed to be wearing it but Paul is having the time of his LIFE.

The way is echoes in his mask makes him sound like he's clucking

Flakes glasses perching in his cone make him look like that sesame Street doctor or scientist

They all suit this make up so much and I wish they'd consider it as a stage look

Peck. Not intimidated.

Considering the nightmares Till has/had, ouch

Richard looks so much like a little vampire prince but like, a character from what we do in the shadows. He makes his own smokescreen entry/exist and everything.

Melanie!!!

Richard has many tendons in his neck huh.

The sounddd. I used to always be curious as to whether or not people in music videos were making the sounds it looks like they're making and now I know and I'm uncomfortable. This and also later when till does the heart

His laugh is never what I expect it to be

That uh. That doesn't look like he's in pain the way the injection sounds implied. At all. Not that I'm complaining but it gives mixed messages.

I'm so sure Richard is the only one I've ever heard use the word quasi. It makes sense for him if true but maybe I only notice because of the tone he uses? His is quite a punchy nasal tone it might just be more noticeable.

Till with kids is always the most adorable wonderful thing. He's really helping to keep them relaxed despite the creepiness of the stuff they're shooting.

"if you look at the cover then you'll recognise a morbidity to the whole thing" till, my darling, do you think people don't already ~see the morbidity~?

I googled and the lady doesn't pronounce renaissance with a g like Till does and that interests me. In fairness I have to assume it's like in Norwegian how words like restaurant are pronounced with a g sound because it's closer to the French sounds? It's not like we in English donut the French way either but the Google translate lady does. This is why I always suspect that when I'm learning a language I'm learning the language wrong and at some point I'll find out there's a Real, For Adults version if the language that's totally different. This is irrelevant. Accents are fun and I like being able to notice them.

It feels so strange seeing this knowing what Eugenio did

Paul taking pictures because he knows better than them

Something about a child saying "ah yes, I know Till and Flake very well" is hysterical.

You can feel the dismay and disapproval radiating off till as he tries to be diplomatic about the Spanish understanding of linear time. He struggles to find a positive and only comes up with the fire walls. "It should have gone out before we filmed anything because they were fucking around with the playback so long but it didn't" is his only compliment.

The German word for French is wild.

Do they know they could have hired an interpreter? Interpreters existed in 2012 I know this

This whole thing with Melanie is beautiful you can't deny that the arm Eugenio made with then was lovely.

Till in the dress with Melanie in his lap. I don't off the top of my head remember seeing it in either video so I simply must assume that it was just what he was wearing that day when he showed up. She's so tiny on his knee I'm glad they're still friends.

"you're left in a state of trauma when everyone stares at you all the time" did this need to get so heavy? It's interesting that he focused more on her voice than her appearance there, though in fairness it's pretty high

They all love her so much and it's totally understandable.

Mit rock n roll und cola trinken

I have to skip the screaming the secondhand embarrassment is too much.

Part 2

Again, this liveblog is so long

Sometimes Oli speaks like his body isn't used to talking.

I want, so badly, to know if Richard was having memories of his dreadlocked youth The tiny cup in his elegant hand is so pleading and then you look left and. It sure is something.

Are they freckles or acne scars across Tills shoulders?...cute. The first set of arm/chest wounds, not so much. I do spy his lil tummy scar

Richard does look like he almost swooped in for a kiss and then changed his mind because of the camera. Paul turns his head that way and then Richard tries to save with a step back and face rub (his own). Just saying.

The fact that a few of them have taken pictures on their personal phones warms my soul it's such a nice reminder that they're good friends outside of work and My Heart

Schneider and Paul ready at a moment's notice to be Dumbasses. J'adore.

What if Zoran was more of a background character tho actually

God, schneider is beautiful. An ethereal, pure beauty that exists no matter how he's being styled.

See okay how is flake almost taller than Oli right now he's not even doing his standard open legs and swan spine thing

It must be so hard to find Oli sized clothes. Flake is also tall and slim but he's a lot more leg, whereas Olis height seems largely to be torso. I have to assume a lot of his stuff is tailored or custom made now.

I always forget about the marks on tills back when he's in the nightmare dress

The child staring with great confusion at a bright red flake reading. I would love to know what his favourite books are.

The childs plural poking and prodding at a very patient Oli, who gracefully bends his spine in ways I've never seen a human do before. I wonder if he's ever dressed up as Lurch from the Addams family.

The actress playing the woman in this half is so beautiful and has a power her younger counterpart lacked when she was threatening him with her weapon.

I am a dummy and was like weird why is Paul speaking Norwegian. I know full well he wasn't saying unnskyld because I've heard Germans say their equivalent before and I assume Entschuldigen either sounds like that fast or shortens so what the fuck, rhi

Till guiding people through him murdering them is truly one of life's greatest pleasures. They trust him so completely. I would like to watch them dance the elegance would be astounding.

Paul lurking watching with what I choose to see as pride as till slaughters an old woman.

Paul being critical (again, as always, rightly so) of the hallway mouthing the lyrics decision.

"for this in prepared to make compromises" he says, hating every bitter word of it

I would like to know what he wanted to say about till and then see him get into trouble over it.

I would like to see till in a bouncy castle. He's adorable jumping into the comfy pit I want to see him in a bouncy castle. Child, utter child.

Paul takes every opportunity to say how hot he thinks they all are and I love that about him. Sometimes your friends are all hot and everybody needs to understand that fact.

Their approaches to pretending to play cello are all so uniquely them. Flake and Richard are taking the time to try and understand what they're being told, whereas Paul just fucking. Lays into it, attracting the weirdest looks from Oli. Richard looks beautiful with that cello and I think he should learn to play. For fun not for work. It's not just that he looks so handsome, but I think that's the easiest way to convince him. I think he'd be good at it, and not being the lead at something might be good for him.

I appreciate that Oli is skeptical because yeah they do all look like they've never held a cello before.

They do, however, all look lovely in their dresses. I'm trying but actually I can't not say that Schneiders little sternum dip makes it seem like he has breasts in that dress and it's a good look for him.

Till singing it in such a high voice, more like his speaking voice, is both interesting and lovely. Oli is trying... So little compared to the others. Laughably incorrect

Why yes, I am laughing at the sheer length of the spikes. They're just... They're so fucking long. So long.

Paul is actually probably the best one there, ironically. They're all comically out of time. They're professional musicians. I know they aren't used to bowed instruments I do understand and I don't want to be uncharitable but also they are struggling. I want to see cellists react to this.

Pretty dresses! And the nightmare but with the most awful and worst fingers! Like the Grinch but goth.

Both Schneider and Richard had the same neverending shoot idea and I am Intrigued.

Till waiting for Schneider with the umbrella :)

Wir brennen! Paul is always so happy to play with fire.

#rammstein #liveblog #dont talk about richards neck this isn't the time or place #me rambling #The Nightmare #vaguely #complete liveblog

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shawnpetermuffins · 5 years

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I Miss You

A/n: I hope this is good because I put this off for so long wanting to do it justice. And this is based very loosely off I Miss you.

Summary: you two broke up recently, and it's not sitting well with Shawn, even though he's the reason you broke up.

Requested by @it-isnt-in-myy-blood: Hi, I recently listened to the song 'I Miss you' (Clean Bandit, Julia Michaels). Maybe you could write a fic based on the song, angsty but with a fluff ending? Thank you... ❤️

***

Kinda_yourname

2,158 likes

Kinda_yourname Cabo sunsets >>>> anything else

•

It may have only been a week, but I'm missing it here! 😭

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I shut my phone off and toss it to the end of the bed. I should have been with her on that trip, but tour got in the way. I got in the way. It's crazy to think that if you asked me three weeks ago, I would have said that my girlfriend and I could overcome any obstacle thrown at us. But ask me again a week later, and I would tell you I was wrong. That being away from her for months at a time was too much for me and I broke it off because I thought it would be what was best for both of us in the end.

Now ask me if I still believe that.

I don't.

I haven't told anyone about us yet. I mean, everyone probably suspects because there haven't been Amy preshow FaceTime calls for good luck, and I'm not texting like a madman during dinner or when we're on our way to the venues. And I know she hasn't said anything to anyone either. How? Because for one, she hasn't blocked me on any social media - I know, I've checked at least ten times just within the last two hours. And two, she hasn't deleted the three pictures of us that she has on her Instagram. They're still there for everyone to see, me included.

Now my fingers are hovering over the keyboard and I'm staring at her name on my phone which is still My Love 😍, and I'll probably never change it. Because she is my love, and to strip her of that title because I'm an idiot just isn't fair.

Hey... I miss you

I type and backspace and type and backspace at least ten times. Because I want to text her. I want so badly to text her, but what if she doesn't want to hear from me? I wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to. I was the worst. Breaking up with her over the phone, no less because I was hurting being away from her. Never once did it occur to me that, yeah, she was hurting too. Or maybe she's with someone else. Maybe she's found somebody new. I want her happy, sure. But I selfishly still want to be the one that makes her happy.

Y/n I miss you.

I delete it one last time and open my photo gallery. I have an album saved for photos of us. Photos that I never got to post because she wanted to keep us as private as possible without being a secret. Which is why both of us only have 3 photos of each other on our Instagram. One for our six months, a year, and a year and a half. Two more months and we would have had a fourth picture.

I'm swiping through the photos landing on one I took of her when we were flying back to Canada after our first trip together. We're on a private jet because this was before we went public with our relationship. Andrew made sure that we weren't seen together in the airport or anything. She's sitting in the seat across the aisle from me, legs up to her chest, earphones in, head resting on her knees as she smiles brightly at me. There's another one of us curled up together on this tiny chair in a green room in the UK that Andrew sent me. She's literally curled into a ball on my lap, sleeping peacefully and my legs are spread in front of me, arms wrapped tightly around her body, head resting against the back of the seat.

The next one Brian took. We were at my place for a very impromptu new years party. It was just gonna be me and y/n, but she insisted we invite the guys over. And we did. It was one of the best nights of my life. We're watching the ball drop, with her in my lap, arm around my shoulder. I have one arm behind her back, the other on her thigh. I think Brian knew something was going to happen because at ten seconds to midnight he pulled his phone out and captured out first new years kiss. She's holding my face and I'm practically leaning her back against the couch. It looks like I'm seconds away from crawling on top of her, and it be honest, I probably was. She's just too perfect for me to resist.

Then there's one that Josiah took of us just a few months ago at the studio house. I had y/n on the kitchen counter, she was in these jean shorts that I loved her in and a button up that she'd stolen from my suitcase. Not that I was complaining. It looked far better on her than it did on me. I stood between her legs, my hands on her sides, slipping under the shirt a little bit, leaning her hips exposed. Not that either of u cared with her fingers threaded in my hair as casually as they were. My face is blocked by her figure, but there isn't a doubt in my mind that I was smiling entirely too wide standing between her legs.

The video that follows knocks the breath out of me. She giggling like crazy, but the camera isn't on her, it's on me. On my back, more specifically. She laughs even more when I wince at the feel of her fingers on my red, raw skin that is now home of her fingernail scratches.

"Baby? What happened to your back?" She asked, amused.

"Don't know," I said, turning to face her, my cheeks still holding a slight blush. "But I think the real question is, what happened to your neck, missy?" I pluck the phone from her hands and turn the camera to her where she's trying to cover her face. I manage, however, to take her hands in my free one and the camera focuses on the flourishing bruises that litter her beautiful neck, my favorite place to rest my head.

I close my eyes, the memory of that night filling my mind. Watching her come down from her high, my face still buried between her legs. The weight and cold touch of her hands as she pulled me up to her, into her, because she needed me closer. I can hear myself murmuring the words 'I love you' all over her skin, still remember the way her back arched when I hit the right spot again and again and her finger ran down my back over and over, once more and she probably would have drawn blood. And I may not be home, but I can smell her on the sheets, that constant aroma of warm vanilla penetrating my nostrils. God, do I miss her.

I'm only making it worse for myself by doing this, I know that. But I should feel bad. I lost the greatest thing in my life and I didn't need to. So I got back to our messages, but instead of going to type a new one, I scroll through, reading through our old texts. There's countless paragraphs of us professing our love for each other. Lots of random pictures sent, most from my side. There's conversations about getting a home together, and a dog. And her telling me how much she loves my family and me telling her how much they love her, how much they ask about her. It's all hitting me too hard right now.

And it doesn't help that im literally sobbing at 2 in the morning, in Paris. The city of love. The place she told me was her favorite trip to ever take with me. Where we stood atop the eiffle tower and I gave her a promise ring, a ring that said I would love her and keep her forever. A promise ring that was now probably in the ocean in Cabo because I tore us apart so easily.

I sit up suddenly, struggling to catch my breath. It takes a few minutes, but I'm able to pull myself out of this empty bed that would only be comfortable with y/n laying next to me. I'm scrambling through the room, picking up the pair of jeans I threw off my body earlier and slipping back into them. I find a torn work out shirt in the bottom of my back and push my head and arms through before throwing my youth hoodie over my already overheated upper body. My passport is sitting in my guitar case, and I grab both things without a second thought. My suitcase trailing behind me.

It's difficult booking a flight and carrying a suitcase and guitar all at once, but I get along just well enough and adjust myself in the lobby while I wait for a taxi. I don't text Andrew until I've made it to the airport and am in my seat on the plane, ready for take off.

Emergency... had to fly home. Promise to make it back in time for the Paris show.

And I turn my phone off before he can text or call me back. Because there isn't a damn thing that he could say that would keep me there in a city that's meant for lovers, when my lover is across the world instead of laying in my arms the way she should be.

I know I shouldn't be doing this. I know there is someone out there who is better for her. Someone who isn't constantly on the move. Someone who can come home to her every night and help her make dinner. Someone who can cuddle her until she falls asleep when she's having a particularly bad day. I know there's someone who can do those things.

But I also know that he won't love her the way I do. He won't know all the little things that I do. Like how she only uses a blue toothbrush. Always has. And he won't notice the tiny scar that she has on her right middle finger from when we tried to make dinner together one night and she cut herself. He probably won't know that she wakes up at 3:34 every single night, because she hasn't been able to sleep fully and soundly through the night since she was four years old. And he'll mess up the way she likes her tea, using tea bags instead of leaves. (She like the herbal taste that you get when you use the leaves. And she likes when you do two scoops of them, and two scoops of sugar, but just cane sugar, the rock sugar makes it too earthy. And of course, she drinks it on ice because she hates burning her tongue with hot drinks.)

I'm thinking way too much as I get off the plane, reluctantly turning my phone back on only to see texts from just about everyone I know. They're all asking where I am, but I ignore them, because what I'm about to do is far more important than anything they threaten me with. I have to make things right.

Standing in front of this door that I've stood in front of hundreds of times should make me feel at ease. Remembering all the times I had her pressed against the other side of the door because I just couldn't wait to have her all to myself. But if anything, it's making me more nervous. So nervous that my hands are shaking, palms sweating, my breathing is jagged and I know if I don't knock right now I might never get the chance again and I can't lose her for real this time. So without giving myself the chance to rethink, I knock on the door three times and I wait, handing in the pocket of my hoodie.

I wait a solid thirty seconds, which feel like an eternity, before the door finally opens and I see my beautiful girl. Her face is bare, hair only halfway straightened, and she's in those shorts I love and my old Led Zepplin t-shirt.

"Shawn," my name still sounds like heaven spilling from her lips. "What are you doing here?" She crosses and then uncrosses her arms, shifting her weight from one leg to the other before standing completely straight.

I didn't even realize I was crying until I sniffled and heard my voice crack with just three words, "I miss you."

"Shawn," she shook her head.

"I tried not to," I insisted, still standing like a fool on her door step. "I swear I did. But I couldn't stop. I looked through all our pictures and texts, and I couldn't stop myself from missing you. And I know I have no right to because I broke things off. But I was in Paris and I was miserable because Paris was your favorite place, and that was where I promised to love you forever, and I'm still keeping that promise. I was an idiot," I continue to ramble. "If there's a better word for that, then I'm that too, because I thought it would be easier if I broke things off. This tour was going to be so long and to go that long without each other, I was scared that it wouldn't be enough for you. But it's not what I wanted, y/n. It's not, and I just-"

"Shawn, stop."

I shut my mouth instantly, ready for her to tell me to leave. But what she does instead throws me completely off guard. She pulls me into the apartment and wraps her arms around my neck, burying her head deep in my chest.

"I miss you, too." She mumbles and I exhale slowly, only to inhale that scent that I love so much. The scent that is naturally her. She starts to pull away, and even though I don't want her to, I let her but she only leans back enough to take my face in her hands and before I even have time to blink, her soft lips are on mine and I'm whole again.

She's mine again and I'm never letting her go.

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @shawns-badreputation @anamariel2301 @bbellbagel

This took me longer to write than it should have, but I kinda really like it. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you Wednesday for more content! 💙

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn peter raul #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #smfsource

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cometsweepandleonidsfly · 5 years

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Editor's note: Megan Rapinoe gave her brother, Brian, a birthday shout-out on national TV after winning the 2019 Women's World Cup, the Golden Boot as the tournament's top scorer and the Golden Ball as its top player. Here is the story behind their complicated relationship.

DAYS BEFORE THE first game of the 2019 Women's World Cup, Brian Rapinoe jokingly texted his sister, Megan Rapinoe -- co-captain and star midfielder for the U.S. women's national team: "Megs, breaks my heart that you couldn't fly me out for an all-expenses-paid trip to France." She shot back: "Oh yeah, so sad I couldn't pamper you for a month in France."

An hour before kickoff against Thailand on June 11, the rest of the Rapinoe family found their seats in the Stade Auguste-Delaune in Reims; Brian charged his ankle monitor and rounded up the other guys in the dormitory at San Diego's Male Community Reentry Program, a rehabilitative program that allows an inmate to finish the final 12 months of his sentence taking classes or working jobs outside of prison.

The MCRP common room might not be France, but it's a vast improvement over solitary confinement, where Brian has watched Megan play in the previous two World Cups. He sat on a couch in his red USA jersey, watching on a 60-inch flat-screen, and felt "f---ing great." He had accomplished a major goal for himself: to get out of prison in time to watch his kid sister play in her third World Cup.

Every time the U.S. scored, the room full of men cheered loudly. Nobody there thought the U.S.'s 13 goals against Thailand and exuberant celebrations after each were done in poor taste. "This is what soccer should always be like," one man said.

"It's the World Cup: There's no f---ing holding back," 38-year-old Brian says. "This is every four years."

And his sister didn't hold back. When Megan scored goal No. 9 for the U.S., she sprinted to the sideline, spun around twice and then slid to the ground for a foot-kicking celebration. As the camera zoomed in on her, one of the guys yelled, "Holy s---, it's Brian!"

He has the same face as his sister.

The face, the charisma, the wit, the tendency to burst into song: In so many ways, Brian and Megan are alike. But they are also a study in contrasts: At 15 years old, Brian brought meth to school and has been in and out of incarceration ever since. At 15, Megan played with her first youth U.S. national team and started traveling the world. As a young inmate and gang member, Brian was inked with swastika tattoos -- an allegiance to white supremacy that he now disavows; as a professional soccer player, Megan was the first prominent white athlete to kneel to protest racial inequality.

Despite their different paths, the brother and sister have stayed close through letters, phone calls and texts. "I have so much respect for her. And not just because she's the s--- at soccer. It's her utter conviction in the things that she believes in and the stances she takes against injustices in the world," he says.

"I was her hero, but now -- there's no question -- she is mine."

Megan, right, "worshipped" Brian when they were children. Brian, who is five years older, introduced her to soccer early on.

GROWING UP, MEGAN and her twin sister, Rachael, adored Brian. He was their hero, the charismatic jokester who did Jim Carrey and Steve Urkel impressions and danced ridiculous dances. The girls had three other siblings, but he could make them laugh harder than anyone else could. He taught them how to catch crawfish in the creek, walked them to the patch of field across from the church and taught them soccer until his mother called them in with a two-finger whistle. In the side yard, he set up cones and showed his 4-year-old sisters how to dribble the ball -- with the inside of the foot only, with the outside of the foot only, left and then right. "And it wasn't like he drilled them. He let them do it their own way," says his mother, Denise Rapinoe, her voice cracking. "It was just the cutest thing, and we remember it so clearly."

In elementary school, like her brother, Megan was rough and tumble, and spoke her mind. Her second-grade teacher's aide pulled Denise aside to relay the following scene: Megan came in from the playground, walked into the classroom, stood with her arms on her hips and announced, "Brian Rapinoe is my brother, and I am just like him!"

"I worshipped him," Megan says. "He played left wing, so I played left wing. He wore No. 7; I wore No. 7. He got a bowl cut, so I did too."

So when Brian first started smoking marijuana as a 12-year-old, a 7-year-old Megan was confounded. Why was he doing that? Brian still doesn't know for sure. "Right from the start, I was hooked," he says. "One drug always led to the next." He was also attracted to the "fast life," he says, to getting high, to driving nice cars and to the "hype around this lifestyle." She wanted him to stop, and she was still young enough to think there was something she could do. Three years later, when her parents sat her and Rachael down and told them the police had arrested Brian for bringing meth to school, she cried. He was going to juvenile detention. She did not understand: What had happened to her big brother?

"For many years, Megan and Rachael were pissed as hell," Brian says. "They still loved me, they still let me know they were there for me, but they were like, 'What the f--- are you doing?'"

"My mother is the queen of the family," Brian, left, says of Denise Rapinoe, right. "I just love her so much. I'm such a baby when it comes to her."

BY 18 YEARS OLD, Brian had moved on to harder drugs -- heroin, specifically -- and he became more reckless. He was charged with car theft, evading arrest and a hit-and-run while driving under the influence of drugs -- and now, as an adult, his juvenile detention days were over. He was sent to prison. Within months, he aligned himself with the white prison gang and was inked with Nazi tattoos. A swastika on his palm; lightning bolts on his fingers, sides and calves

These tattoos devastated his family. "The prejudice, the racism -- it was so against the way he'd been raised," Denise says. "He wasn't that kind of kid. He was kind, his nature was so loving."

To Brian, the swastikas weren't about prejudice and racism at that point -- they were about heroin and survival. To support his addiction, he needed to be, in his words, "an active participant in prison culture." The California prison system was segregated. That meant Brian lived strictly among the white population. "You come in as a kid, and there are these older dudes you think you respect, spouting ideas, and you kind of listen," Brian says. "I developed a protect-your-own mentality."

He tried to explain that to his mother. The gang was a family, he said; it was a place to belong. "I told him, 'This is not who we are,'" Denise says. "'This is not who you are.'"

Megan was as heartbroken as her mother. "I thought [the tattoos] were horrible," she says. "I still think they're horrible. I could rationalize them: I understood that when he first got in there, he was searching for identity, trying to survive."

But the big brother she had worshipped? It felt like she had lost him.

As a young player on the U19 U.S. women's national team, Megan wore the No. 7 jersey. It was the number Brian wore when he played soccer.

BRIAN BECAME HEAVILY involved in gang life and racked up charges while doing time: possession of drugs, possession of a deadly weapon, three assaults on other white inmates. He spent eight of his 16 years in prison in solitary confinement for this behavior. By 2007 -- as he was turning 27 years old -- he was transferred to Pelican Bay State Prison in Northern California, the state's only super-max-security prison.

While general population is segregated, solitary confinement is not, and every inmate gets one hour out of his cell to walk the pod. Here, the protect-your-own thinking began to fall away for Brian. "You start relating to people beyond your hood, your area, your color," he says. "It doesn't take long before you start talking with each other, seeing how much you have in common. Back there, it's just you in the cell, and the man next to you is just a man himself."

There's no radio, no television in the individual cells in the hole. Sitting in a cement box, counting the number of holes in the perforated door is "hard; it's definitely hard," he says. "But you find a way to escape. You've got books, you've got writing, some guys draw. And you develop these relations with other people, these connections."

Three times a week, inmates also get three hours outside, albeit in his own cage. "In the yard, you start talking [to other guys] -- sports, music, my sister is always a big ice-breaking conversation. You say [to them], 'When we go back in from yard, you can look at my pictures,' or you say, 'Here's something I wrote.' Maybe you become good friends -- like me and Monster did."

Monster, also known as Sanyika Shakur, is a black nationalist and the author of the bestseller, Monster: Autobiography of an LA Gang Member. He and Brian were on the same pod for two years. Using a line and a weight, they'd send each other long letters from cell to cell, fishing for them beneath the doors. Brian shared the song lyrics he wrote; Monster let him read drafts of his articles and essays. For years, Brian had been a serious reader, consuming everything from the classics, to books about social issues. He'd read The New Jim Crow and learned about how police disproportionately search black men and arrest them for nonviolent drug offenses, and how the War on Drugs decimated communities of color.

"He taught me what it means to be racist," Brian says, "and he taught me what it means not to be racist."

By 2010, the now 30-year-old had a new understanding of what the white supremacist insignias represented. He had his face tattoos lasered off. The swastika on his palm became a spider web; the Nazi lightning bolts became skulls. He did not want any racial insignias on his skin. They did not reflect who he was. But he was still using heroin -- and the next year, he was arrested for selling it.

Brian was behind bars once again -- this time at Donovan State Prison in San Diego.

When Megan scored in the 2011 Women's World Cup against Colombia, she seized the moment and sang Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA" -- something, people say, Brian would do.

IN JUNE 2011, Brian had something new to talk about during his hour walking the pod: His little sister was playing in her first World Cup -- and he was going to get everybody to watch.

The 15-inch television was at the other end of the hallway, some 50 yards away. He built a tower out of 60 books and tied them together with torn sheets. Sitting on top of it, he could just see the TV through the window in the door. In an early game against Colombia, Megan roped in a goal, then immediately sprinted to the corner flag, grabbed a cameraman's mic and sang Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA." The guys got a kick out of this because Brian was the singer on the pod, and this flamboyant corner-flag serenade was so like him.

Days later, ahead of the quarterfinals against Brazil, all 30 cells on top and all 30 cells on bottom were watching, everybody perched at their doors. Megan -- young and audacious with her signature short blonde hair -- subbed in at the end of the game, and in extra time, sure enough -- boom! -- she sent a 50-yard cross-field ball to U.S. forward Abby Wambach, who headed it home to tie the game. "We were going wild," Brian says. "We were yelling and pounding on the doors."

Later that night, on the prison pay phone, Brian talked with his mom. She described the end of the game, how Megan, having just experienced the craziest, most awesome moment of her life, walked to the stands and stood there, searching through the some 20,000 faces for her mom's. Denise put her two index fingers in her mouth and let out her trademark whistle -- the same whistle she had used when they were kids. She had to do it a second and then a third time before Megan could hear her. Megan tapped her ear. "She was letting me know she heard me," Denise told Brian at the time, choking up -- which made Brian choke up a little, too. He could imagine it.

"Not being there -- it hurt," Brian says.

Another four years passed. This time he was in solitary confinement because of his violent record at the Vista Detention Facility, a lower-security prison, in San Diego County -- and Megan was headed to Canada for her second World Cup. The women would end up winning it all, the first time the team had done so since 1999.

"That was the hardest," Brian says. "I was super happy for Megs and super sad for myself. I fricking love my family so much. They were all there. It was like, f---, man, I'm like not really even a part of this. Yeah, I got a lot of support for her in prison, but when the game is over and the ruckus has died down, I'm sitting in my cell. I'm not there to give her a hug, I'm not there to witness it, I'm not there to be a part of it. It's just another thing in their lives that I'm missing out on. What the f--- am I doing with my life?"

Brian was almost 35 years old. He had spent more than half of his adult life incarcerated.

After Megan kneeled during the anthem in 2016, a former prisonmate called Brian to commend her actions. "What your sister is doing -- it means so much," said Sanyika Shakur, a black nationalist. "She is standing up for people who don't have a voice."

ON SEPT. 1, 2016, when San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick kneeled during the national anthem to protest police brutality and racial profiling, Brian was briefly out of prison -- although he was still using heroin. Three days later, Megan kneeled in support while playing for her club team, the Seattle Reign. Then, while playing for the U.S., she did it again.

Brian saved the newspaper article with the picture of her solemn, angled-down face. He watched the YouTube videos of the coverage. He thought, Hell yeah. He also read the comments: "If she was on my team, I'd knock this idiot out. She should be banned from the national squad for life. Such disrespect." He understood that she would anger people, understood the impending fallout. He knew that enrollment in her summer camps and sales of her clothing brand, Be Your Best You, would go down. He thought, My sister is brave; my sister is bad ass.

Like every time before, Brian's freedom proved to be short-lived. By July 2017, he was back up north in Pelican Bay. Back to the regimented, day-to-day prison routine. Where tomorrow is the same as today. His whole life had been a habitual rut; Megan's anthem protest felt like the opposite of that. Her stance showed him there is a way to put a foot down on something in life, in spite of the fallout that will come.

Not long after, he had a breakthrough. His cellmate was helping him inject heroin into the back of his neck when the needle broke. "I freaked out on him, really lost it," Brian says. "And he said to me, 'Look at how you are acting right now.'" And for whatever reason, those words torpedoed into Brian and transformed into personal questions he asked himself. Your whole happiness and peace of mind is focused on this dirty-ass hypodermic needle: Is this what you want? Do you want this cell and this bulls--- powerful persona to be all you are?

He thought about the seven murders he'd witnessed out on the yard. He thought about his own knife fights -- about everything he'd done and been a part of -- just so he could continue to do heroin. He thought about Megan. Look at all she's done with her life -- look at what you've done with yours.

That's when he finally decided he was ready for change. He enrolled in the new self-improvement and rehabilitation classes the California prison system had begun to offer. Each completed class reduced time from his sentence.

Most importantly, after using and selling drugs for 24 years, Brian quit -- and he's been clean for 18 months.

"If I do drugs," he says, "I will go back to prison. I didn't believe that for a long time. Now, I believe that -- I don't ever want to go back."

Shortly before his first day of school at San Diego Community College, Brian met up with a friend from Pelican Bay, Cesar, who is also taking classes. "From the Bay to the books," Brian says. "I am so stoked to begin."

TODAY IS BRIAN'S first day at San Diego City College. As part of the Male Community Reentry Program, he's taking classes to finish up the final year of his sentence, and he has some butterflies. "It's been a long time since I've gone to school -- even when I was in school, it was juvenile hall -- I've never taken anything except regular math. I've never even taken algebra.

Plus, he says, it's a little unnerving to sit in a classroom with 18-year-olds whose experiences have been drastically different from his own. He's self-conscious about his tattoos -- particularly his neck tattoo, SHASTA, inscribed in large gothic letters, the name of the county in which he grew up. "These tattoos, I freaking hate them," Brian says.

But he also knows those tattoos could matter again in the future. He wants to get involved in the juvenile delinquency program, wants to talk to anybody who might be about to jump off the same ledge he did. "These tattoos, it's gonna get their attention," he says. "It's like, dude, you don't think I know what I'm talking about?

"I want to make a difference," he says. "I want to be like Megan."

He had "a really fricking deep conversation" with her about two months ago. They talked about racial profiling; they talked about police brutality; they talked about what Megan's kneeling meant to both of them. Megan saw that in spite of their very different paths, they'd arrived at similar conclusions.

"My brother is special," Megan says. "He has so much to offer. It would be such a shame if he left this world with nothing but prison sentences behind him. To be able to have him out, and to play for him, and to have him healthy, with this different perspective that he has now: This is like the best thing ever."

While Megan is in France, she and Brian text daily -- with game thoughts, encouragement and shared excitement.

"This is one of the most exciting things I can even remember ... just everything really, you, the school, the program," Brian texts.

She replies: "People always ask me what got me into soccer ... your wild ass of course."

"Luckily I played a cool sport. What if I'd been into arm-wrestling or something."

"Oh lawd, yea you really set me up."

"Get some sleep -- love you."

"Lovee you Bri! Let's f---ing go!"

-- Freelance writer Gwendolyn Oxenham is the author of Under the Lights and in the Dark: Untold Stories of Women's Soccer.

#megan rapinoe #espn #uswnt #us women’s soccer #women’s world cup

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izdabielle · 5 years

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Musical of Love { i.}

one

"In, you should be ready in 30 minutes. Did you already do your vocal warm ups?" asked the brunette manager, Wonhee.

"Yes, I did," replied In.

Jae In. One of the most well known musical actresses in the country. She's highly recognise for her excellent singing skills and acting skills especially when given the demure, kind hearted roles. However, despite the kind hearted roles she gets, she's actually a cold hearted woman. No, she's not the typical "you should worship me" type of mean but the "leave me alone because I don't need you here" type of mean.

Sure, she received numbers of news and complaints about it but does she care? No, she doesn't. Loved by the audience, hated by the cast. That's her status. She would get offers of roles having love interests to which she would decline.

Love?

It disgusts her. She never like the idea of love. She rarely heard it unless it's from the critics, fans or two of her only friends.

Yoo Wonhee. Her manager.

Lee MinOk. Her personal stylist.

They were her safety blanket. The sight of them keeps her from the worries that would corrupt her before performing. They were the ones who would sweep off the dirty negativity in her mind. Imagining the world without them scared her.

"Innie..."

The young actress snapped out of her thoughts as she felt a tight squeeze on her shoulder, only to look at the owner of the hand. MinOk is known for her gothic or grudgy persona but her real personality is far from the image she's known of.

In squeezed the stylist's hand as a sign of thank you. MinOk knew that it would take a miracle for In to smile. She knew In disliked everything about her. She even hates her name for goodness sake. Having to hate everything about her gave her no reason to smile.

"You have 20 minutes, better go up there quick, " said Wonhee.

In stands up, fixes herself, did a final warm up and took a deep breath. She looked at the two girls and thanked them before proceeding to the stage.

🎶❤️🎶

Now life has killed the dream

I dreamed

The man's eyes glistened with tears as the woman on stage slowly ended the song. He has always admired her. His members know it. Even his family knows that he's such a sucker for this girl. Watching musicals was one of his stress relievers. Members would jokingly call him out whenever he would sing too loudly in his room.

He used to watch her shows with his parents but when trainee days came, he missed every show she was on. Idol days came, he would invite the other members but they weren't enthusiastic as he was.

He wiped his tears as the musical went on. Making him forget the stress he went through. The worries he had for the past months are now washed away.

🎶❤️🎶

"Jae In as Fantine!"

The actress gave the audience a small smile as she went to the center to take a bow. Smiling was always a struggle to her. She never had solid reasons to smile yet it was required especially in the curtain call.

After the curtain call, she said her "goodbyes" to the cast then quickly went back to her dressing room.

"You did great!!"

Wonhee and Minok rushed to hug her not expecting much reaction but their hearts went warm when they felt her arms tried to wrap around them. They let go of her and gave her a smile.

"Oh, In. I have this cousin who is a big fan of yours. Can he come here and maybe hang out with us?" asked Wonhee.

Jae In being the anti social would normally say no but hearing that it's her cousin. Wonhee would talk about her cousin non stop. Saying no would sadden the excited woman, knowing that they haven't seen each other for months already. However, the other side of her says that Wonhee and her cousin could meet another time.

The young actress looked at the expectant brunette and there her decision was made.

"Sure but just a picture with me. Don't include me into your conversation," she said as she sat on her chair.

🎶❤️🎶

Kihyun repeated the same words as he paced back and forth. He was waiting for his cousin, outside his idol's waiting room.

Sure, he was part of one of the most charismatic kpop boy groups but meeting his idol was different. He felt nervous. Is this what fans feel when they meet him?

His heart stopped when the door opened and smiled at the sight of his cousin. He felt giddy. Giddy as a little girl receiving her new doll.

"Wonheeeee..." he said as he hugged her.

Wonhee gave him a hug that was tighter than expected, which was usual but he can't never get over how strong she can get despite being petite.

They entered the room and Kihyun greeted In. She greeted him with a small nod and stood up, knowing he will ask for her picture. The man couldn't help but feel nervous and develop sweaty hands as he sees the beauty before him.

"Hi, I'm Yoo Ki-"

"I know," she said as she shook the stretched hand.

"Can we-"

"Yes, we can."

Kihyun looked at Wonhee, silently asking to take them a picture. Wonhee took his phone and ready the camera. Kihyun stood beside JaeIn and smiled as In only gave a small smile. It was not even known if she was really smiling.

Kihyun felt awkward for the awkward. He was aware that she was known for her cold personality but he never knew that it was this cold.

"At least she's not arrogant," the boy thought.

Wonhee sat beside Kihyun and gave him a drink. She felt bad for bringing Kihyun, knowing very well the result of the whole but it was one of the things that she can do: making Kihyun meet his musical crush.

"She's just tired," she whispered to Kihyun.

Kihyun knew Wonhee was lying. He wasn't that dumb. Having Jae In few appearances wouldn't ture that quickly unlike other performances such as. He understood why she had to lie.

The cousins conversed whilst MinOk helped In in removing her make up. MinOk would usually bring up a conversation with In but she felt that the girl was not happy with the loud chattering made by the cousins.

As her make up was removed, she took a deep breath and stood up, facing the two.

"May I ask you two to leave the room? I have to change my clothes," she said with a thin hint of annoyance.

The cousins looked at each other and did so. As they went out, Wonhee apologise for In's attitude and that its not only him who was able to experience it. That was one of Kihyun's greatest question:

Why is she like this?

Kihyun had this belief that behind every mean or arrogant person has a story behind it.

"Kihyun ah, you should go home. Its already late," said Wonhee, patting his head.

"I will, thank you for tonight," he said, squeezing the hand on his head.

"I'm also sorry in behalf of In."

"It's okay. I somehow expected it," he said, giving his cousin a reassuring smile.

Both bid their goodbyes. Kihyun going to the left, heading to the exit while Wonhee head back to the room to fix things and call it a day.

🎶❤️🎶

Kihyun arrived at the dorm with a big smile despite of the cold treatment from his crush. He lied down on his bed, posting the pictures he had taken, showing one of the things he loved the most.

📷: ᶜᵗᵗᵒ

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