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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

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’cos i don’t believe in ghosts {Joe Mazzello}

1. Salem

Chapter Summary: SUPERNATURAL CREATURES AU; In which Joe (a demon) agrees to go on a ghost hunt with you (an oblivious human) in Salem because it seems like a good idea, and Lucy (a witch) also comes along because it actually seems like a terrible idea, and knows Joe’s nature far to well to leave him with you unsupervised in this sort of situation.

A/N: Concepts at play; Lucy is a witch and works with sigils and can set up telepathic links between herself and others. Joe is a demon. Gwil, Rami, and Ben, are all also supernatural creatures, but we’ll find out more about them later. Possible Lucy/Reader as well in some chapters maybe. feedback would be appreciated!!

“Text presented like this is a telepathic conversation.”

After a long day of sight seeing and interviews, all you wanted to do was flop onto your nice, comfortable hotel bed and watch tacky ghost-hunting shows. Socks and shoes off, snuggled under the covers with a waterbottle on your bedside table and the overhead lights off, you plugged in your laptop and opened up Netflix, scrolling through your recommendations. There was a surprising wealth of conspiracy theory documentaries, ghost-hunting shows, and sensationalised pieces on proof of supernatural creatures all over the world. You, of course, held your own beliefs about this sort of thing, but even though you were travelling all over America for work, and had ample days off to explore the sights that so intrigued you, you knew you were too nervous to go on your own.

Except that Salem was only half an hour away from your next tour stop, and you had a full day free while there, and yes the witch trials were awful, but part of you feels like it’s the perfect ‘first haunting’ location to visit.

“What are you watching?” On a break between interviews, it’s Joe who spots you staring at your phone, completely invested in whatever’s going on on-screen, one headphone in.

“Oh, I-” quickly, you remove the headphone, a little flustered at being caught, “it’s just Buzzfeed thing I sometimes watch.” You’d been mentally preparing yourself for going to the Witch House the following day, and had tried to go the lighthearted route of video research; somehow the duo who ran Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural managed to ease your nerves more than any straight-laced documentary would ever manage.

Joe smiles a little at that, at your sudden fluster, and he raises his eyebrows at you, moving to your other side to pick from the plate of sandwiches that had been provided for them.

“Anything interesting?” He asks, his voice surprisingly casual, and you hum for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to tell him what exactly you were watching.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, quite the opposite in fact, as assistant to the PR Manager you’d managed to form quite a solid friendship with the cast on this leg of the Press Tour for Bohemian Rhapsody.

“Depends on what you find interesting,” you give a small smile back, and Joe raises his eyebrows, perhaps in challenge, perhaps in amusement, but you conceded after only a few moments, tilting your phone to show him where the two hosts of the show were trooping towards the Witch House. “They’re, like, semi-professional paranormal investigators.” Is how you chose to describe it. Joe couldn’t hear the audio, since it was still feeding through your earphones, but his lips quirked in a grin. After a moment, the video has a close up of the taller of the two hosts, Shane, and Joe makes an indecipherable noise in the back of his throat that edges on amused.

“Salem?” He asks finally, and looks up from the phone to meet your gaze, “spooky.” He’s holding back a laugh, you just know it, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, it’s nearby, I thought I might check it out tomorrow.”

“Extra spooky, a little solo field trip?” He’s grinning like he’s genuinely intrigued, like he’s invested in the idea of your ghost hunt. You tip your head from side to side, deliberating for a moment, before nodding.

“I mean, you’re always welcome to tag along,” you find yourself offering, and Joe’s eyebrows rise in both surprise and amusement, “I just never pictured it as your scene.”

“If you’re offering, I’d rather come along than have you possibly get haunted on your own.”

“You’ll protect me from the ghosts?” You half smirked, and Joe snickered.

“And anything else that might be lurking in the shadows,” it sounds like a joke, and you laugh it off easily, a little bit flustered that he’d agreed to come along so easily.

By the time the cast had reset for the next interview, you were back by the PR Manager’s side, and Joe was sitting on the edge of a sofa, though his expression had gone strange, his smile a little tight.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a voice that was not his own filtering through in his mind.

"You shouldn’t play with her like that.”

“And you should know better than to be in my mind like this right before an interview.”

“What? Are you begging to be caught?”

“Are you? At least look at the camera. Anyways, she’s a fan of the supernatural.”

“She’s a fan of ghosts. You’re not a ghost, Joe, incase you forgot.”

“Yeah, I’m painfully aware of being corporeal- I’m hungry.”

“Focus. You can’t go ghost hunting with her, it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“I thought Rami would be much more likely to lecture me.”

“Rami’s not telepathic.”

“Fair point. Listen, if you’re so worried, you can come along too. It’ll be a fun little field trip, team bonding!”

Joe looks over to Lucy, whose eyes have glazed over. She’s got her hands clasped in her lap, but he can see the subtle way her index finger was tracing patterns in the air repeatedly. Though the minute he catches sight of her, Lucy’s attention snaps to Joe, and she gives an eye roll.

“Ghost hunting and team bonding don’t exactly go hand in hand, but fine.”

Joe could almost hear her sigh, despite the smile she wore, and after a beat, she chimed in again.

“You know I hate Salem.”

You’d take any opportunity to hang out with the cast, you adored them all individually, so when Lucy made mention that she’d heard you and Joe were going to Salem to do some ghost hunting, you were eager to invite her along. In fact, you’re fully intending to extend the offer to the rest of the cast, but without prompting, Lucy makes mention that the others probably wouldn’t be into it.

“Ben’s afraid of ghosts,” Joe adds, slotting himself into the conversation, and the idea alone of Ben’s weakness being the concept of ghosts is funny enough that you don’t care if it’s real or not.

But then it’s settled; you, Joe, and Lucy were going to head to Salem the following evening. You didn’t really have anything planned, you were just going to bring your camera and just go exploring, not really expecting to find anything. You’re also not quite sure if either of the cast members are going to show up, but you’d cleared the excursion with your boss, and now it was edging on twilight and you were sitting in the lobby of the hotel you were all staying at, nervously jangling the keys of one of the rental cars the studio had outfitted you all with.

But, just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, both Joe and Lucy step out from the elevator, quietly arguing with each other, though that quickly comes to an end once they spot you. Both of them smile, and you feel the relief course through you, and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“You expecting to find anything?” Joe asks during the drive, leaning forward from the back middle seat where he’d been annexed at Lucy’s insistence, while she took the front passenger seat.

“Not sure,” you replied honestly, “I don’t think I’ll catch anything on film, but I’m hoping something spooky might happen.” Laughing a little, you keep your eyes on the road, though you hear Joe snort. “What about you guys? You fans of this supernatural sort of stuff, or just along for a joy ride and to make sure I don’t get mugged while on my lonesome?”

“Honestly, can’t say I’m not a fan of a bit of supernatural shenanigans, but I’ve never held much stock in ghosts,” Joe’s voice has a surprising air of authority on the subject, and Lucy actually has to hide her laughter behind her hand.

“Just because you’ve never seen a ghost,” she snips back at him, and Joe shakes his head.

“If ghosts were real I definitely would have seen one,” he says, voice lofty, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well maybe they just run whenever they see your face,” Lucy teases, and reaches back to pinch Joe’s cheek. You’re still laughing, but Joe’s gone quiet, contemplative. “Cheer up,” Lucy adds, “maybe tonight’s your night.” But there’s a strange quality to her voice that you can’t quite identify, and before you can even try, she reaches over to turn on the radio.

Salem is quiet as a grave. Bring the car to a stop a few blocks away from The Witch House, and it finally hits you where you are, and how strangely dark it’s already managed to get. Your grip is white knuckled on the steering wheel, and it’s all you can do to sit in silence for almost three full minutes.

“If you’re not up for this, we can go back,” Lucy’s voice is gentle, but Joe’s already unbuckling and practically pitching himself from the car.

“This place has such a weird energy, you know?” He announces, hands on his hips, looking down at the street towards the House itself.

“Are you- are you for real? Or are you taking the piss?” You call out the door that he’s left open, and he spins, grinning.

“No, I’m like, being for-real. You know in like, ah, fuck I can’t remember which movie it is, but like, the guy leans down and he touches the dirt,” Joe bends at the knee, kneeling on the soil, his fingertips brushing the ground, “and he’s like, ‘something terrible happened here’,” he grins, looking far chipper than he had any right to, given the circumstance, “you know, it’s like that.”

“Maybe we should go home,” your brow creases in concern, and you shift your grip on the steering wheel nervously. Lucy rests a hand on your shoulder, and you can feel her thumb gently brushing against your jacket, though it goes a considerable ways to calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” Joe calls back, and his smile is bright and yet reassuring, “I was kidding; I told you ghosts aren’t real.” He hums as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “and what are they gonna do anyways? Be mostly see-through and wiggle at us? Tell us to get out? Joke’s on them, I have selective hearing and I can’t hear ghosts.”

The two of them walk either side of you, Joe with his hands in his pockets as he observes the scenery with a smile, and Lucy with her arm tucked into yours, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the palm of your hand as the two of you chatted. Neither of them really looked at you, though you were feeling relatively calm and secure. The surprise comes when you finally realise how tense and on edge Lucy was. When you ask, she gives a tight smile, and says something about how she can’t stop thinking about the atrocities committed here.

“Fair.” You agree, but try not to think about it.

“You see anything?”

“You mean anything extra spooky? No; I told you, ghosts aren’t real.”

“Joe, I know they are; I genuinely think you scare them off. Witch-spirits especially are very aware of vibes-”

“Are you saying I have bad vibes?”

“I’m saying a demon like yourself isn’t one to be messed with, and everything less than corporeal sped off the minute we arrived.”

“Was that a compliment I heard?”

“It was just a statement.”

“You think I’m spooky.”

“I think you’re going a good ways to scaring off Y/N.”

“She’s fine, she’s a champ, and it’s not like she has anything to worry about with us around, even if there was something that wasn’t scared off by my ‘bad vibes’ or whatever you called it, we could take them.”

“I still hate this place.”

“You see any old friends floating around?”

“Shut up. No.”

The tense set of Lucy’s shoulders doesn’t get better, in fact, she glances over at Joe after the two of them had been quite for a very long time, and her jaw clenches. Her grip on you gets just a little bit tighter.

“Anyone specific we’re looking for?” Joe asks out loud, as if it’s a normal conversation to have, while the three of you stood at the gate of The Witch House.

“Tituba,” Lucy answers automatically, much to your surprise, and you extract yourself from her grip gently, stepping down the stairs and into the trench where the house once was.

“You’ve done your research,” you say, a little preoccupied as you move through the space, phone camera held out in front of you.

“What about Hecuba?” Joe asks, sitting himself by the edge of the fence, while Lucy perched herself on the railing itself, the two of them sitting sentinel, like guard dogs against anything that might try it’s luck against your sweet, human soul.

“Hecuba was just a person, I think you’re thinking of Hecate;” Lucy corrects, and Joe nods, thoughtful. However, a moment passes where Lucy turns as white as a sheet, not that anyone else notices, at the idea of Hecate herself appearing in this glorified grave yard. But then again, the Goddess of Witchcraft did both adore and abhor this little town, she had no time for tourists, this Lucy knew. Even tourists with a spicy companion such as a demon.

For a few moments, they just watch you, sitting as still as possible to not interfere with your work, watching how fascinated you get with each little sound and movement. There’s nothing there, not really, but your nervous faith is so enthralling.

“You see anything?” Joe calls, and you tell him you haven’t. He repeats the question to Lucy and is met with a hum of hesitation; when he looks at her with his true sight, he sees her tracing sigils into the air, quiet, disciplined movements. To the natural eye, the sigils are invisible, but when he looks at her like this, he can see them glowing bright in precise shapes and symbols, beautiful in their own way. She’s watching you intently, and when Joe follows her gaze, he sees a translucent dome glowing around you, somehow managing to radiate ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes. Even Joe feels his skin itch just being in close proximity to it.

“No.” Lucy answers, though her hesitation had given you cause for concern, she’s quick to cover, “but it’s pitch black out here, I can’t exactly see anything.” And you have to agree.

It’s been, well, interesting to say the least. You drive back, and thank god Lucy seems to get more relaxed with each mile that you put between yourselves and that town.

“Do you plan on doing this sort of thing again?” Lucy asks as the three of you ride the elevator from the parking garage to the lobby. You hesitate for a moment.

“I mean, yeah, if I get the opportunity,” you say, a little tentatively, “you guys don’t have to come along, I can-”

“Nah, this was fun,” Joe grins, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence, your attempt to unburden them of your presence, your little side project, “now I wanna see a ghost by the time the tour’s up.”

Lucy raises her eyebrows at him. Joe shrugs helplessly, still smiling.

And you, you sweet, oblivious human, don’t know why but you feel safer knowing they’re coming along with you on your supernatural side quest.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #Lucy Boynton #lucy boyton x reader #lucy boynton x reader #lucy boynton imagine #queen #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

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honeycombcal · 5 years

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Love and Duty - C.H. (Cop!Calum, Ch. 1)

AN: sooo i got this idea for cop!calum and i’m just kinda running with it. sorry the beginning might be a little slow, but i have an idea of how i want this to go and i’m excited for it so i hope you guys like it :) if the formatting is weird, it’s because i wrote it/am posting it on my phone! lmk what y’all think!💙

Sutton was late. Extremely late. She power walked down the street as fast as she could, rushing to the quaint cafe that she was meeting her brother, Elliott, at for brunch. She prayed to whoever might be listening that her older brother wouldn’t be too pissed at her tardiness.

She finally got to the restaurant, throwing the glass door open, the motion making her caramel color highlighted locks blow behind her shoulders. She glanced around and found her brother at their usual table by the window; that table was their favorite because it allowed them to people watch those that walked by outside.

Elliott’s head was down as she approached the high top, dark wooden table. His dark brown hair, the same color Sutton’s was naturally, was finally starting to get back to its normal length after he had to shave it for the police academy. He was still dressed in his uniform, having just finished a shift he’d worked all night. He glanced up as he heard her get closer, his hazel eyes meeting Sutton’s as he gave her a teasing look of disapproval.

Sutton was winded as she plopped down in the chair across from her brother, setting her bag on the corner of her chair nearest the window. She exhaled deeply as she settled in, her fingers going to comb through her hair anxiously.

“I am so sorry I’m late-“ she started as Elliott chuckled.

“You’re fine. I actually just got here a few minutes ago anyways,” Elliott reassured her. Sutton exhaled again, this time in relief. She knew Elliott wouldn’t be that mad; it was impossible for the 25 year old to stay mad at his little sister for long.

“So why do you look so nice? That part of your reason for being late?” Elliott quirked a dark eyebrow as he gazed over his sister. Sutton looked down at her outfit as if she didn’t dress herself this morning: she wore a dusty rose colored silk camisole tucked into tight black trousers with a matching black blazer and black flats. Definitely not her go to look at 11 o’clock in the morning.

“It is actually,” she informed him. Her brother waited for her to continue, crossing his arms and leaning them on the table. “I had a job interview this morning.”

“You did?! Why didn’t you tell me?” Elliott questioned, feigning hurt. Sutton rolled her emerald eyes at him and smirked.

“I guess it just slipped my mind. Plus you’ve been so busy with work lately,” she pointed out. Elliott nodded, agreeing with her. “It was kind of a last minute thing too. They called me yesterday asking if I could come in this morning.”

“So, where was the interview at? How’d it go? Does dad know?” Elliott fired off, but before Sutton could answer, the waitress came to take their drink orders. Sutton ordered a water and a mimosa while Elliott opted for just a water. On the job or not, Elliott was still in his work uniform and couldn’t be seen drinking.

“It was at the courthouse, as a clerk, so I’d work up tickets and different cases and even be in the courtroom. I think it went really well! And no, dad doesn’t know yet. I’ve barely had time to process it myself,” Sutton told him, resting her arms on the table and raising one to place her chin in the palm of her right hand.

“Oh, that sounds like it’d be perfect for you. I work with clerks here and there, they’re real nice,” Elliott told her, making her all the more excited and hopeful that she’d get the job. “Dad will love to hear that.”

Elliott’s last comment brought a soft smile to Sutton’s face. Their father, the chief of police in their town, would be thrilled to hear that both of his children were working in the judicial system in some way. She couldn’t wait to call him and tell him the news, but it would have to wait until after brunch.

The waitress brought their drinks and took their order, scurrying off to give it to the kitchen before the place got slammed for lunch. The siblings made small talk as they waited, Sutton asking Elliott how his shift went. His hazel eyes were slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep, and it looked as though purple thumbprints were pressed underneath his eyes. Sutton hoped he would be taken off this night shift soon, but since he was a newer officer, she really doubted it.

The waitress returned with their orders ten minutes later, Sutton’s mouth watering at the sight of her french toast, bacon and eggs. She dug into her food quickly, as she hadn’t had breakfast this morning, and almost burnt her tongue in the process. As she chewed her eggs, her phone began to ring.

“Oh fuck,” she mumbled, small pieces of egg flying out of her mouth and making Elliott laugh. She shot him a glare as she dug her phone out of her bag.

“Oh my god.” Sutton felt her eyes grow wide as she saw the number on her screen, tuning her brother’s “what?” out as she quickly finished chewing and swallowed, choking slightly, before she answered her phone.

“Hello?” She could feel her brother’s eyes on her, but she didn’t meet them. Her voice had gone up an octave or two so she knew that he knew it was probably something important.

“Hi, Sutton? This is Linda with the courthouse,” the voice spilled over the phone. Sutton felt like her eyes might pop out of her head. They were calling her already?

“Hi, Linda!” she exclaimed, making the older woman laugh.

“I was just calling to ask if you’d like to become a part of our team?” she asked. Sutton’s mouth fell open before the corners of her lips began to tug upwards.

“I would absolutely love that!”

Elliott raised his eyebrows as he shoveled more of his biscuits and gravy into his mouth.

“I was hoping you’d say that! Does starting on Monday morning work for you?” Linda asked. Sutton would have started whenever she’d have asked her too, but she was thankful that she wasn’t going to have her start in the middle of the week since today was Tuesday.

“Of course, that definitely works for me!” Sutton bounced excitedly in her chair, meeting her brother’s eyes and grinning.

“Perfect. We’ll see you Monday morning at 8!” Linda told her. After Sutton thanked her, they exchanged goodbyes and hung up. Sutton let out a squeal as she set her phone down

“I got the job!!” she exclaimed, her brother going wide eyed.

“That was who just called? They let you know that fast?!” He was almost in disbelief. Not that his sister wouldn’t get the job, but that her now employer got back to her that quickly.

“Yes! Can you believe it?!” Sutton was over the moon excited.

After graduating from college in almost a month ago, she’d had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. When she was looking for jobs, she came across this listing at the courthouse and it sounded too good to be true. She tried not to get her hopes up when applying, but when they had called her the same day she’d submitted her application and had asked her for an interview, Sutton was all too happy to oblige. It finally seemed like things were falling into place, and it sounded like maybe she’d get to work with her brother every now and then too.

“That’s amazing, Rose, I’m really proud of ya,” Elliott praised her, using her nickname. Rose was Sutton’s middle name, and since Elliott was only 3 when Sutton was born, he had had some difficulty saying her name. So, her parents had him call her by her middle name, since that was much easier for a three year old and Elliott would still call her Rose to this day. He often called her that more than her first name just because it was still easier (and he was a bit lazy). It had even rubbed off on her father and even a couple of her closest friends. Sutton loved her middle name, so she didn’t mind when people called her by it.

“Me and my buddy actually have to be in court next Wednesday so maybe we’ll see ya,” he continued.

“Which one? And for what?” Sutton questioned, resuming her meal that had now cooled off enough for her to eat.

“We both have prelims we gotta testify for. Cal had a domestic call and mine was a speeder but they scheduled ‘em back to back so we’re goin’ together.” Sutton had heard Elliott talk about ‘Cal’, but she’d yet to meet him. She also knew that prelims meant a preliminary hearing, thanks to both her father and brother being cops and to her minor in law enforcement. She had her fingers crossed that all of that knowledge would help her out.

They finished their meal in a comfortable silence, occasionally pointing something out about a person who walked by. Elliott insisted on paying as a ‘congrats on the job’ gift, so once they’d settled the bill, they headed out.

“Alright, I’m goin’ back home to get some fuckin’ sleep. You goin’ back to dad’s?” Elliott asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

Sutton nodded, yawning and immediately looking forward to the nap she was about to take. Her 9:30 interview had come early this morning since she couldn’t fall asleep until after 1.

Sutton had moved back in with her father after she graduated, and she was happy to be there. She often worried about her dad living by himself. After their mother died when Elliott was 18 and Sutton was 15, it had just been the three of them. But then Elliott went off to college a few months later, so it was just Sutton and her dad. Which was really hard on her; her mom had passed away right around the time a young girl needed her mom most. But her father had done an exceptional job of stepping up and filling both roles. He had worked his ass off his whole life, especially after his wife died, to give his family everything they’d need. He was appointed chief of police when Sutton was 17, and she felt like the most proud daughter in the world. Even though her father was in and out of the house throughout the week, she still hated to think of him alone at home. She was probably one of the few college kids to be happy to be back home.

Elliott walked her to her car in the parking lot, enveloping her in a hug after he opened her door for her. “Don’t be a stranger, Rosie. Come by and we can go get drinks to celebrate.”

Sutton groaned. Every time she drank with her brother, she got waaaay too drunk trying to keep up with him and his friends. The last time she’d gone out with him she’d been sick for the next two days.

“We’ll see about that,” she told him, ducking into her car. Elliott chuckled before giving her a wave and shutting her door, heading off to his own car parked across the way.

As Sutton started her car and began the drive home, she called her dad over the bluetooth speaker in her car.

“Hi, sweetie,” his voice boomed over her speaker, making her jump as she turned her volume down.

“Hi dad. I’ve got news!” she told him happily.

“Oh? And what’s that?” he asked curiously.

“I got a job at the courthouse as a clerk!” Sutton exclaimed to him, bouncing up and down again.

“You did?! Oh honey, that is just fantastic. I am so proud of you.” Hearing her father say that made tears spring to Sutton’s eyes; she knew her father was proud of her, but hearing him say it made her emotional every time.

“Thanks dad. I’m really excited about it,” she told him, turning onto their street.

“I think that’ll be a good job for you. I know a lot of the people in there so you make sure to tell me if anyone gives you any grief,” his tone only slightly joking. Sutton giggled.

“Oh, I will. And Eli said the same thing, about it being good for me. Says he works with clerks every now and then, too.” Sutton pulled into the driveway of their colonial home, a big white house with light blue shutters and a wrap around porch that her mother loved.

“He sure does. He’ll probably try to make his way over more now that you’ll be working there.”

“Alright dad, I’ll let ya go. I’m home now, so I’ll see you when you’re off,” she told him.

“Alright Rose, I’ll see you when I get home. I’m proud of you sweetie, love you.”

“Love you dad. Bye,” Sutton clicked the end call button on her steering wheel before turning her car off and heading inside.

For once in her life, she couldn’t wait until Monday.

#calum hood #calum 5sos #calum hood fanfic #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum hood fanfiction #cop!calum #5sos #5 seconds of summer #hcc masterlist #masterlist #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #michael clifford #michael 5sos #5sos fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfic

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fanatic1997 · 6 years

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You’re Mine (2)

Summary: You are Tom Holland’s assistant. He’s a lot to handle at times and you’re like his mom but maybe that will change when a certain best friend takes an interest in you.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: None Really

Words: 2709

Part: 2 out of 3 maybe 4 I can't control myself

Part 1

Part 2:

Harrison decided to wake up Tom by jumping on the poor guy, effectively waking him and Tessa up in one fell swoop. Tom’s face brightened up after the initial shock of being woken up by a body slamming on top of him.

“Harrison! What are you doing here?” Tom laughed, sitting up on the couch.

“Actually, this charming woman asked if I wanted to surprise you on your day off” Harrison had placed an arm around your waist, effectively making your once pink cheeks turn a vibrant shade of red. You noticed that Tom’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he stared at Harrison’s arm around your waist.

Tom didn’t say anything in response and you, feeling awkward, stepped away from Harrison, grabbed your makeup bag and walked towards the door.

“Don’t get into too many messes or I’ll quit and leave you with the damage. Have fun guys” You smiled as the two guys laughed mischievously. “It was nice meeting you in person Harrison” you added as an afterthought.

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine” Harrison said sending you a smirk.

As soon as you left, Harrison rounded on Tom, “Why didn’t you tell me she was so bloody attractive! We should invite her out with us tonight” He said plopping down on the couch. “If I had her dotting after me like she does with you, she’d be more than just my assistant.” Harrison didn’t notice Tom’s grimace.

Of course Tom had noticed how attractive you were but he never thought twice about it. He would never make you one of his conquests.

“I think she might be busy tonight, it is her only day off” Tom said flatly. Harrison seemed to be in a daze.

“Does she have a boyfriend?” Harrison asked turning to look at Tom. Tom shook his head but then stopped; he realized he didn’t know the answer actually. Harrison noticed

“How do you not know mate” he laughed. “Is she dating anybody, texting anybody?” He continued to ask. Tom slowly realized that he honestly didn’t know. You knew everything about his life, down to the smallest details. You knew he hated warm pickles but cold ones were ok, he drank his tea with 2 spoons of sugar and a splash of milk, you knew that he loved wearing christmas socks year round because it was his favorite holiday. But he didn’t even know if you were dating! Tom reasoned with himself that it was your job after all to know these details but as much as he reasoned, he realized he was not a good friend to you like you were to him.

“Then you should ask her to hangout with us tonight! What’s the worst she can say, no? I doubt it” Harrison said smiling to himself.

Tom was in a dilemma. His interest in your personal life was piqued but he didn’t want to spend the whole night watching Harrison flirt with you either. That would just be too weird, he reasoned.

“Or…... are you interested?” Harrison turned to look at Tom.

“No” Tom stated flatly, leaning over to scratch Tessa on the head, not able to make eye contact with Harrison for a minute.

“Good, then text her or give me her number and I’ll text her.” Harrison reached for his luggage bag, deciding to pick out his outfit for the night.

Tom scowled at the ultimatum but he pulled out his phone anyway. He sent you a short text finding your contact as y/n💙 after spending a long time debating what to say.

Tom: Hey, do you want to hangout with Harrison and me tonight?:)

When you had seen the notification, you had thought that Tom had managed to already get himself in a scandal after only 20 minutes with Harrison and needed your damage control. But instead, the text had taken you by surprise. You took a few minutes to reply, weighing your options.

y/n💙 : Hmmm…...should I remind you that our contract clearly states that my personal days should not be fickled with? Lol, what are you guys planning on doing?

Tom looked up at Harrison, “you want to go to the Arsenal?” Harrison shrugged in agreement.

Tom: How about the Arsenal around 8:30?

y/n💙 : Not really my scene.

Tom: Come on, just hang out with a couple of poor sods that have nothing else to do:)

y/n💙 I don’t know…….

Tom: If you don’t come, I’ll make a scandal, one that you can’t clean up…….😈

You laughed upon receiving the text from Tom. You knew his threats were empty but Tom really was a child when it came down to things he wanted. You decided it was best to just accept your fate.

y/n💙: Fine, but I’m driving there. I’ll see you guys later!

Tom laughed at your message, happy that you had accepted.

“I’m guessing she said yes” Harrison said walking back into the living room. He headed toward the kitchen ready to get started on the food you had ordered. “I can’t wait to see her tonight” Harrison yelled out while chewing his food.

Tom sighed, leaning back on the couch. He couldn’t wait to see you either.

Tom and Harrison wasted the afternoon catching up and napping since Harrison was jet lagged and Tom’s nap had been interrupted.

It wasn’t until much later that Tom was awakened by a hungry Tessa who had jumped on couch with him and began to lick his face. He laughed, getting up to grab her bowl and some food.

Tom realized it was already 7:30 and so he walked over to his room where Harrison was already laying out an outfit for the night.

“Dressing to impress?” Tom asked, not waiting for the his reply since he already knew the answer. Tom opened his closet to pick out his outfit as well. He found it a little difficult, seeing as you usually chose out his outfits beforehand. He decided on a black leather jacket and some dark denim jeans topping it off with his favorite christmas socks. Fixing his own hair was also an interesting task as he usually didn’t stress over what it looked like but tonight, it did matter.

Tom was never punctual but Haz had nagged at Tom to hurry up.

Tom attracted a lot of attention when he walked towards the nightclub after parking. It was a club many celebrities frequented so there was always paparazzi waiting out front, ready to catch a glimpse of a celebrity. He usually didn’t get a lot of paparazzi’s attention as they were used to his presence at the club but today, the paparazzi were going bezerk and snapping tons of pictures of Tom.

The paparazzi were trying to catch Tom and you possibly, after his interview from today where he accidently let slip his affectionate nickname for you, calling you “my girl” on national TV. The actor had never publicly confirmed any of his past relationships so this interview had stirred a lot of interest. Of course Tom had meant nothing by the affectionate nickname, but that didn’t stop the blue hearts from being left in the comments.

You had arrived before Tom and Harrison and you were bombarded with paparazzi, not able to make your way to the entrance. You had never been trained on dealing with the press so you were trapped in their web of questions and suggestions. You had yet to see the interview so you were at a loss when the paparazzi asked if you and Tom were dating.

You didn’t notice Harrison approach you until he touched your shoulder to grab your attention, smiling at you in greeting. This seemed to drive the paparazzi wild as they snapped even more pictures.

Tom hadn’t seen you but he did see Harrison standing next to someone with a plunging backline.

It was only when Harrison spun the girl toward the entrance that Tom realized it was you. He stilled, eyes raking over your body unabashedly, admiring you in your dress. The paparazzi snapped photos faster.

Once your eyes met his, your cheeks warmed at the look Tom was giving you. His eyes were darkened, hooded over as he traced your curves with his eyes. You felt self conscious, almost regretting the dress you wore.

Tom snapped out of his haze once he noticed Harrison’s hand at your back. You gave him a shy smile. The paparazzi went wild catching every emotion Tom expressed from surprise to desire to sourness.

You could feel Harrison’s hand on your back guide you inside the club, steering you towards a booth close to the bar.

You sat down and Harrison joined you on the same side while Tom sat across from the both of you.

There was an awkward tension that engulfed the table. Harrison leaned over, closer than what was necessary in Tom’s opinion, to ask you what you wanted to drink.

“Long Island” you replied, deciding that you needed something strong enough to blame your flushed face. Harrison bristled goodnaturedly, and then asked Tom what he wanted.

Tom decided on a beer, deciding that he needed to stay level headed tonight.

After Harrison left to get the drinks, Tom gave you a lopsided smile “we might corrupt you a little tonight”.

“It beats my plans” you laughed. Tom leaned in closer.

“And what were those plans” he asked seeming uninterested as he stared at the dancing bodies on the dance floor.

“Probably just a date between me and ….” Tom eyes snapped to yours immediately and a glass was set in front of you at the same time, interrupting your sentence.

“A date?” Harrison questioned sitting down next to you with his glass in hand after handing Tom his beer. You laughed but your cheeks warmed slightly.

“My couch… I had a date with my couch and netflix. I haven’t really had a day off in a while so I was going to catch up on all my favorite shows” You could hear Harrison sigh in relief.

“Good, because I would be very disappointed” Harrison winked at you.

You didn’t say anything, just took a nice big gulp from your drink. You watched Tom take a long swing of his beer as well.

You would never admit this outloud ever, but you were such a lightweight. You could already feel the effects of the alcohol giving you goosebumps as a shiver raced down your body with the first gulp.

“So you don’t usually drink do you” Harrison smiled, noticing your dazed eyes after one drink.

You giggled, feeling your ears pop “you could say something like that.”

As you were sipping on the last bits of your drink, a girl in a dress that left nothing to the imagination approached the table. Rolling your eyes, you recognized the girl as the one night stand from the morning.

“It’s nice seeing you here Tommy” the one night stand giggled. She turned to look at you with piercing eyes when you had snickered, poking fun at the nickname she had given Tom. “I thought you would be too uptight to have fun” the one night stand said giving you a once over.

You thought Tom would dismiss her immediately but he let her drag him to the dance floor.

Tom definitely didn’t want to stay to witness his best friend hit on his assistant any longer so he was much relieved when a distraction was offered to him on a silver platter. He blamed the alcohol for the boiling in his veins even though he only had a beer as of yet.

Feeling unsettled and quiet daring, trying to prove you weren’t uptight, you asked a waitress for a couple of shots of tequila when she was making her rounds, cleaning up the empty glasses from the tables.

You asked Harrison to help you down the 6 shots you had ordered. After the first one’s burn, the rest of the shots went down like water, feeling as if they had no effect on you. You could feel yourself laughing at something Harrison had said, not able to recall what the joke was about. You felt good, you felt no tension or awkwardness anymore.

You decided to get some more shots from the bar, asking Harrison to slide out from the booth to let you by. You could feel your knees go weak for a second as you stood feeling the effects of the alcohol on your balance but then you caught yourself and continued walking toward the bar.

After catching the busy bartender’s attention, you asked for 6 more tequila shots, not realizing that you were way beyond your limit. The bartender rang up your card, telling you that the shots would be brought over to your booth. You thanked the bartender, ready to make your way back only to be stopped by a random arm that had wrapped around your waist.

“Let’s dance sweetheart” the random guy stated, pulling you even closer to his chest. You could feel his sweaty hand on your bare back and you shivered disgusted. The guy reeked of alcohol and sweat and he gave you the creeps.

“She’s with me actually” You felt a firm hand around your wrist.

You turned to see Harrison standing next to you, looking a lot more sober than you at the moment, The creep grunted but left you alone.

“You ok love” Harrison asked. You smiled, already forgetting the creep. You pulled Harrison to the booth so you could wait on your shots.

If Harrison was in his right state of mind, he wouldn’t have let you down the second round of shots so fast. But he wasn’t.

A particularly good song started to play on the dance floor and you pleaded Harrison to dance with you. He didn’t need much pleading but he liked the puppy eyes you were giving him so he let you sweat for a minute.

You guys danced, well he danced and you swayed unsteadily on two feet letting the alcohol give you the illusion that you were dancing fantastically.

The song ended and another one began. The song had an interesting beat, something you weren’t sure how to dance to. Looking around, you noticed that the couples were much more provocative in their dancing, sliding their bodies against each other. You looked at Harrison who gave you a shrug, grabbing your waist to pull you in closer.

“Just copy what you see them doing, love” He whispered in your ear.

Unbeknownst to you both, piercing brown eyes were watching your every move. Tom had his eyes trained on you both since you guys had walked onto the dance floor.

Just as you were about to turn to place your back against Harrison’s chest, mimicking the other women around you, you felt a strong arm pull you away from Harrison. You stumbled into a familiar chest.

“I think it’s time for me to take you home” Tom said, glaring at Harrison. Tom noticed you stumble. “How many drinks has she had Haz?” he seethed. Tom’s voice was icy but his hand was warm on your bare back, not sweaty at all like the earlier creep.

“I can answer for myself” You slurred, a detail that Tom didn’t miss. “I stopped counting after the 4th shot honestly” you giggled truthfully. Tom held you even closer to his chest, angry at himself for trusting Harrison to take care of you.

“Let’s go darling” Tom said softly, pulling you out of the dance floor.

He called an uber to take Harrison back to his place but he was going to drive you home personally. The beer he had earlier had already been drained from his system.

Tom walked out of the club with you wrapped in his jacket since he knew it was going to be a chilly walk back to his car. Tom had completely forgotten about the paparazzi, only to be reminded when blinding flashes went off once the paparazzi noticed him and you together and no Harrison in sight.

Tom could only imagine what the papers were going to say tomorrow.

Part 3

@theamazingspidermann @reanethefirst @bishopl @fijiangecko @greenarrowhead @cafe-sabor-a-chocolate @sincerelymlg @maddieisaacs @i-aint-nobodys--bitch @embrace-themagic @dashofholland @ashleyhearto @dogsandrocketsocks @ilivelifecaerazy @strang-ersclub @alltoowhalee13 @catnolannn @whymak @thingsienjoylookingat @armygirl157 @loricwizardbluetoastedcake @aelin-firehearts-court @world-moon @scarlett-is-in-deep-shit @castawayparker @125bluemachine125 @flowerchild8341 @prada-cat @misunderstoodasfeelings @queen-tay-tay-love @uh-how-dare-you @bubbles8898 @seargantbcky @that-random-ass-blog @dream-catcheer @avahodge @kjminch @ruefulposts @ladypuddle @I-luv-doggos @shutuppeter @embracingtom @racewife2004 @skelkitt

#tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #avengers #tom holland imagine #tom holland #spiderman #ifinity war

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herroyalhighnessqueenmomo · 6 years

Text

Comic Strip (Peter Parker x Reader) Pt.1

Summary: You live in the real world as a journalist in New York. On the side, you'd love to be an actress but you've been struggling. You live with your best friend. One day you were in trouble and was all of a sudden saved by Spiderman. You think its just a guy in a costume but it's actually him. You end up having to go on an adventure of a lifetime to an alternate universe where comics actually exist.

Your alarm woke you up. You groaned getting up. You turned it off and went to the bathroom. You did the routine of using the bathroom and brushing your teeth. As soon as you finished you got dressed. You wore a white button down shirt, black dress pants, a black blazer, and black flats for now. Heels usually hurt your feet a lot so you only put them on when you got to work. You were currently a web intern at a magazine company. That meant you always had to look your best to impress. It was a very difficult job if you couldn't keep up. After your internship your goal was to become a print journalist. This meant you'd be writing a lot of articles and giving interviews. Being an unpaid intern is very difficult in New York while you were in college. Luckily your best friend was helping to support you. Both of you went to NYU. She was offered a side job in modeling that paid her well. Whenever she could she'd help you with anything you were behind on in your classes.

So far the both of you were pretty successful but you had to admit you lived a very stressful life with little to no time to relax.

You soon finished your nude glam makeup look. Afterwards you put on your accessories. You hated going out without proper accessories. You even had a motto. 'Accesorize or the outfit dies.' You soon exited your room and smelled coffee. You went to the kitchen to see your best friend Maia serve you some coffee in your traveling mug.

"Thanks." You said as you put creamer and sugar substitute. You stirred the mix with a spoon. Once you finished you put the cap on.

Maia then handed you a paper bag. "Whole grain banana nut muffin."

"I hope it tastes good still after it got tortured by whole grain." You stated.

She rolled her eyes. "As long as we're living together I'm not letting you eat trash. That's the deal remember? I support us and you eat healthier."

"Unfortunately. But my internship is almost over and I will get a job and then I will eat a Big Mac." You stated threateningly.

She shook her head in disappointment. "That's.not.food. that will kill you."

"At least I'll die happy."You stated and grabbed your set of apartment keys. You grabbed your coat and purse then walked out.

Maia would always try and get you to eat better. In a way you really appreciated her trying to take care of your well being but some of the stuff just didn't taste all that good. Maia did however try and do her best to make the food taste better because she knew you hated healthy food due to the lack of dazzling flavor. You actually were doing better with your food habits and you did feel better about yourself. Your hair and skin looked much better. You wouldn't admit it but you might try and stick to more healthy foods after your internship.

You got to the subway station and went on the train to the city. On the train you started eating your muffin. It actually tasted similar to a regular banana but muffin, which you were thankful for. You drank some coffee while you opened your issue of a Spiderman comic that was in your purse.

As surprising as it may seem to outsiders that a grown professional woman still read comic books, you didn't give a rat's ass. You loved reading them. Your two favorites were Deadpool and Spiderman. You had a huge crush on Tom Holland, the actor of Spiderman.

The train finally stopped at your station. You got out coffee in hand. You put your comic back and drank your coffee on the way to the building that you worked at. You had finally arrived and quickly got to working. You were writing down interview questions for the next guest your company would have. Personally you were hoping that your boss would let you be the one to interview them. By the time you finished and sent it to your boss she gave you a new task.

"Um, Ms. Elliot, this errand will clash with the time of the interview." You stated.

She had turned around with a toss of her dyed deep red hair. "I'm aware of that. What is the problem?" She gave you a blank stare.

Your confidence that you mustered up was quickly leaving your body. "Um, well I figured that since I have been working for this company for a while and I've been working really hard lately, I was hoping that I-"

"Come on spit it out. Time is being wasted."

"I was hoping that could be the one to do the interview." You finally finished with your heart in your throat.

She began to laugh. "Sweetheart, you're just the intern. You don't get to do interviews, you get the chance to get the hell out of here and do I what I asked while you still have a job."

"Sorry."

You ran off and out the building. Turns out you needed to pick up something from an address. You used the GPS on your phone. It led you to a conspicuous and cliche alley way. This made you very uncomfortable. All of a sudden a group of guys burst through a door and grab you. You let out the loudest scream you could. You weren't planning on going down without a fight. You kicked and screamed and ended up getting thrown on the floor. You hit your head pretty hard. You expected to be killed but for some reason the guys ended up getting thrown off of you. You looked to see a flash of red.

You watched the scene unravel in confusion. Your vision was a little blurry because of how hard by hit your head but the guys were getting tied up with what looked like webs from a spider. Your eyes traveled to a man dressed in a red suit. It was unmistakably the suit of Spiderman.

The man turned to you. "Hey, are you okay?" The voice was almost boyish. It sounded cute but familiar.

"I-I'm fine, um thanks. You're Spiderman?" You asked not fully gaining any form of understanding.

He nodded. "Yes, I am. This might sound weird, but you're going to have to come with me."

You scrunched up your brows in even more confusion. "I don't even know who you are."

"Yes you do, I am Spiderman. You just said so." He stated.

You shook your head. "Well, I meant you're dressed like him. You can't actually be Spiderman. Superheroes aren't real."

He sighed. "The doctor said this wouldn't be easy." He muttered. "Alright if I take off my mask and reveal my secret identity would you come with me?"

You looked at him as if he was either crazy or perhaps stupid. "What secret identity? Everyone knows that Spiderman's real name is Peter Parker."

He ran and shushed you. "Don't say it so loud."

"Say what so loud?" You really didn't understand what was wrong with him. "You're a comic book character. It's common knowledge!"

He was extremely silent. You groaned and pulled out your comic book and pointed at the cover. It was of Spiderman swinging from a building. He grabbed the comic book. Peter was scrambling through the pages frantically.

"Hey watch it! I just got that issue. You're gonna rip it." You warned him.

He looked up at you. "So you're telling me that I'm not real? I'm just a character? Dr. Strange didn't tell me much about you. He just said we needed you to fight Thanos."

You had a look of confusion. "How am I gonna fight him? I am powerless, I don't know how to fight, I'm not even smart enough to create tech." You reasoned.

"Well you are Y/N Y/L/N, right?" He asked you.

You gave a nod. "Even if you were the real Spiderman where would you take me?"

"Back to my world." He replied.

You scrunched your brows. "Take off your mask."

"But I-"

"If you take it off I'll go with you." You offered.

He hesitated but decided to reach for the top of his head and began pulling. As soon as you saw his face you almost fainted.

"You're Tom Holland."

He looked confused. "Tom who?"

"So this isn't a publicity stunt? You're actually spiderman?" You asked not believing it.

He nodded.

You squinted. "Fine, I'll go with you, but my best friend is coming with me."

You went to your apartment and called Maia. You told her it was an emergency. She came to the apartment as fast as possible. However,while you waited for her you began to pack yours and her bags.

"What's wrong? What's the emergency?" She asked as she entered the apartment. Her voice revealing her concern.

You pointed to Peter. Her eyes went over to him and confusion quickly made its way on her face.

"Why the hell is spiderman in our apartment?" She asked.

"Apparently he's taking us to his world to help him defeat Thanos." You answered.

"Is this a joke?"

"Nope."

She shook her head. "Well I'm not going anywhere with a complete stranger."

You turned to Peter. "Take off your mask."

As soon as he did Maia's jaw dropped. "Okay is this a dream? What's happening?"

"I don't have much time to explain. Dr. Strange is supposed to be opening up a portal soon we have to be able to leave." He replied putting his mask back on.

"Okay but I have to pack my bags." She said.

"Already did."

"You did?"

You nodded and handed her, her suitcase. All of a sudden the three of you see a spark in the we middle of the air that expanded into a circle. In the center of the circle you saw what you recognized was the building Dr. Strange usually was in. You and Maia exchanged glances of pure shock.

"Come on we don't have all day." You heard a voice say from the other side of the portal. You recognized that it was Dr. Strange's.

Peter walked in first. You and Maia were both nervous. You had your bags in one hand and each others hands in the other. The both f you counted to three and walked through.

As soon as you entered, the portal disappeared behind you two. The both of you looked around in astonishment until you were hit with a pounding headache.

"Strange what's happening to her?"Peter asked.

Dr. Strange walked up to you. His hands sparked up into round runes. "We had to bring her into this world because she is a mutant. Her genes were dormant in her world. She lived in a world where there are no powers. In this world her powers are one of the strongest. Everyone get down."

They all looked confused but got down Your headache was beginning to be too much. You let out a scream that took out the power in the building. Everything was getting thrown around. Your headache finally subsided and you passed out.

When you woke up you saw a paper lantern hovering over your head. You thought it was all a dream but now you had no idea where you were.

#spiderman x reader #marvelfandom #peter parker x reader #marvelfics #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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kimonobeat · 5 years

Text

aiko bon “Profile Interview” Chapter 4 (3/3)

ーWhat kind of fashion did you wear outside of school?

aiko: In elementary school I was always dressed like a boy. I almost always wore jeans. I started gradually wearing girlier clothes since middle school though. I started wearing a lot of culottes and denim skirts. I used to love the clothes at BETTY’S BLUE. Then in 9th grade, I started wearing Hysteric Glamour. There was this T-shirt I used to wear that had Mickey and Minnie doing something dirty on it. (laughs) That and skinny black pants, skate shoes, and a polka dotted zip-up hoodie. I wore more ‘lolita’-ish clothes in my later high school years. Oh, and in middle school I used to go to Armani fashion shows.

ーWait, you watched Armani fashion shows in middle school? What kind of middle schooler does that? (laughs)

aiko: My older cousin took me with her because she worked in the fashion industry. Sometimes I would copy her and wear perfume. I’d put on Dior, or Chanel, or Poison, and people would tell me, “Ew, you STINK!” (laughs) My favorite fashion style in high school was mod clothing. I also loved psychedelic, hippie-looking clothing, so I used to wear dresses from thrift stores. The fashion I liked around that time had a lot to do with my favorite bands. Like, I loved THE COLLECTORS, so I wore mod clothing, y’know? I also kept my hair in a mushroom cut. Here I was wearing gigantic glasses and vintage dresses… Definitely a cringe-worthy look now. Like, just YIKES. (laughs) Now when I look back on it I just think to myself, “Well, at least I got to do the things I wanted to do. Oh well!” But not too long ago I wanted to eliminate all traces of those outfits.

ーDid you always have long hair up until you decided to chop it off for the mushroom cut?

aiko: Yeah, it was always long except for when I did the mushroom cut. My hair was sooo pretty in high school that anytime people couldn’t remember my name, they’d just call me “the girl with the pretty hair”. It was straight and black, with no split ends to be seen. You can thank my dad’s seaweed dishes for that. I had such healthy hair even though I didn’t take good care of it.

ーYou didn’t really need to do treatments or anything like that?

aiko: Nope! I went to the beauty salon about once a month though. I went to the same hair stylist my aunt went to. They cut my hair and let me pay later. I’d always tell them, “Just the ends, please.” (laughs) I didn’t do anything to take care of it but got my hair cut often.

ーHow was the coursework at your high school?

aiko: Hahaha! I… didn’t study.

ーWhat about when you had exams?

aiko: I did for those… (quietly) But that was the only time I did.

ーAnd your grades?

aiko: Eh, well, they weren’t great. Just average… No wait, a little worse than that probably. (laughs) I had a lot of points taken off. Like, less than 40%. That all depended on which subject, though.

ーSo what classes did you have GOOD grades in?

aiko: Music. I was #1 in our music class. I remembered a pretty good amount of music history, so I got 100 in that class. That and the skills tests we did put me at #1. The other person in my class tied with me for #1 was this guy named Yamamoto Poppo (Coo). We gave him the nickname “Poppo” because he was a lot like a pigeon. I was really good friends with Poppo.

ーaiko and Poppo.

aiko: Yeah, yeah. When it came to music, we had a lot in common. When everyone else was listening to bands like BOØWY, LUNA SEA, TRACY, KATZE, PRINCESS PRINCESS or JUDY AND MARY, we were like, “Hey, you heard Kaji’s new stuff yet?” We also traded each other CDs in secret, and listened to stuff like Harada Tomoyo’s albums, Spiritual Vibes, and Summer Vacation together. I also listened to indies music, something I’d been doing since I was in middle school. I didn’t have any money back then, so I just borrowed CDs from TSUTAYA to listen to. Indies artists didn’t make their music available as rentals though, which meant that I had to buy indie releases to listen to them. And of course, I listened to the radio all the time, same as always. I wasn’t in any after school clubs. I was in a band though.

ーHow many bands were you in during high school, all in all?

aiko: Just one. Oh wait, I was in another band too. The band I formed in 10th grade was entirely made up of girls. A girl named Tomo played the drums, and her older sister played the bass. Another really serious girl named Shimamoto played the guitar. She was the kind of girl who played guitar because she loved, like, B’z and Aerosmith, y’know what I mean? That band only lasted for about 3 or 4 months. We’d say, “Let’s practice!”, fumbled around for a while, then we sorta just fizzled out without even coming up with a name for our band. The real reason that band fell apart was that the bassist lost the scores of the Shonen Knife songs she had. She went through the effort of asking Shonen Knife herself but still lost them. That was too bad.

ーThe members of Shonen Knife sent you guys the band score to some of their songs themselves?

aiko: Shonen Knife wrote their contact information in their indies CDs. There was a “Contact” section that listed their personal address and phone number. (laughs) I don’t remember much, but we wrote them a letter or called them about it. “We wanna cover Shonen Knife’s songs. Would you mind giving us the sheet music?” we asked. They were gracious enough to send it to us, along with a message that said “Good luck!” I was so touched. “Wow, what nice people,” I thought to myself. And then we practiced it. Now that I think about it, the sheet music was pretty simple. They only thing they had written on it were the chords. Just, “Here’s where you strum.”

ーAnd that all-girls’ band fizzled out after only 3 or 4 months.

aiko: I started my first real band in 11th grade. We had 5 members: a guitarist, bass player, drummer, keyboard player, and me. We were all in the same grade. The keyboard and bass players were girls, and the drummer and guitarist were guys.

ーYou were the vocalist, I’m guessing?

aiko: Yup, just the vocalist, no instrument. We said, “Let’s be a band!” and that was that.

ーDid this band have a name?

aiko: Um… (laughs) Let me think. We were “The Pinsaka Knife Orchestra”. The name was based on the names of all our favorite bands. A three-piece indie girl band called The Pinkies, another band called Hanasaka who was passing out cassette tapes they hadn’t even released yet, and Shonen Knife. We covered those 3 bands a lot, so we decided to use them all in the name of our band. Then we tacked on the word ‘orchestra’ at the end, because we wanted to add a bunch more people. (laughs) Not that we needed anyone to play any other instruments; we just wanted them as members of the band. Y’know, members of the band who help us out by making copies of tickets, that sort of thing. The whole shebang sorta felt like Sharam Q. (laughs)

ーBut if you weren’t covering those bands, doesn’t that make the name kind of… wrong? (laughs)

aiko: I thought the same thing.

ーSo were you pretty similar to those 3 bands, at least?

aiko: We were completely different from them. I don’t really feel like those bands had anything to do with each other either. Shonen Knife’s a rock band, right? One of those ‘hit it and quit it’ punk rock kind of bands, y’know? Hanasaka was your average pop group, although they used similar instruments to BO GUMBOS. You see, the drummer played the bongos instead of drums. Visually they had this BO GUMBOS psychedelic vibe going on, but musically they were a pop band. The Pinkies were, what would you call them… Honestly, I only know one of their songs. I used to listen to this song of theirs that was on an indies omnibus release. It was the kind of song you’d do the monkey too, I guess? It went something like, “My cute lil’ baby~ Cha cha cha! My boyfriend’s over there, lookin’ so fine~ Cha cha cha!” (laughs) Well, our band just wanted to have some fun. We covered a lot of pop bands.

ーDid you write any original songs for this band?

aiko: Nah, none at all. No one wrote any songs so we only did covers. We covered Japanese bands like The Pinkies (which I just mentioned), Hanasaka, Shonen Knife, and THE COLLECTORS. People mistook the indies songs we covered for original songs, though, so when we performed at our school festival, we did a bunch of songs everyone already sort of knew. We knew we’d definitely draw a crowd if we performed Mr. Children or JUDY AND MARY. We performed some of Mr. Children’s songs from around the time they released the songs “Kind of Love” and “versus”. There I was, singing, “One of~ these days~ We’ll be together~” I asked the keyboard player to pitch the song up to C for me. The song’s about being in love with a girl who’s older than you. I was actually dating a guy who was younger than me at the time, and he came to see us play. Everyone swooned. (laughs) We also did JUDY AND MARY’s song “LOLITA A-GO-GO”. I wore lolita-ish clothes for it. (laughs)

ーHow long were you in The Pinsaka Knife Orchestra?

aiko: Up until just before I graduated, I think. We practiced in a studio, performed live at school festivals… It was a blast. It’s just, we were all headed down different paths. We stopped after about 2 years.

ーBy the way, when did you decide to apply to a music college?

aiko: Sometime around June of my senior year. (laughs) I didn’t really care where I went to college. I would’ve been fine with a vocational school too. I just sort of thought it would be nice to be part of a music college. When I told my dad, he said, “I ain’t lettin’ you go nowhere unless it’s a music college.” So I was like, “Really!? Guess I’ll go to a music college then!” and asked my teachers for advice just before summer in 12th grade. They said, “Really!? Well, if you don’t turn things around, you’re not gonna get in!” And yeah, that was true. I ended up doing just fine, surprisingly.

ーThere weren’t any particular subjects on the entrance exam of your music college?

aiko: Well first of all, there were the subject exams. Like, I think I did a Japanese exam. There was that, and a ‘composition’ exam where they quizzed you on music history: “Beethoven is ___”. There was also a music theory exam where they asked you questions like, “What interval is this? A minor third.”

ーWere there any practical exams in addition to the subject exams?

aiko: There were! I majored in popular music vocals, so my practical exam was singing a song. They gave you a couple of set pieces to choose from. I chose the song “Yesterday Once More”. I had another exam called ‘solfege’, where they have you transcribe a song, then sight-read the music.

ーDid you do any interviews?

aiko: Oh, I did that too. I talked pretty briskly through the whole thing: “Yes! Yes, that’s right!” But… I don’t remember a single thing I talked about. (laughs) That whole time period when I was applying to music school is a fuzzy memory to me. Honestly, I really don’t remember anything that I don’t really care about… That’s why it’s all kind of a blur to me. I sometimes forget about people too. For example, let’s say you’ve got two people, and they both get teased and bullied in the exact same way. One person might remember how they were bullied, and what people said to them down to the letter, but the other person might not remember anything at all. I guess that’s the difference between people who give a damn and people who don’t. Music school was one of those things for me. It’s not really that I didn’t care at all about music school, I just don’t remember anything about it because it was never really a goal of mine to get into a music college. Even when I was in school, it wasn’t the kind of college experience that made me feel like, “I’m in a college for music!” That’s why I don’t really remember a whole lot about it.

ーWasn’t it hard, going through all those entrance exams? Normally, students who apply to music colleges spend years preparing. You’re not supposed to study for everything a few months before.

aiko: Definitely, because of the specialized subject exams and the practical exam. I studied for those in a huge hurry starting in June. My music teacher gave me very intensive lessons. For singing lessons, I went to this place my music teacher introduced me to and told them I wanted to be a musical major. “You’re not meant for musicals,” they said, so I decided to apply for the popular music department instead. I definitely wasn’t cut out for being in musicals, that’s for sure. At the time, I couldn’t really hold out a falsetto note. “I’m definitely more of a ‘pop music’ kind of vocalist.”

ーEither way, when you decided that you wanted to go to a music school, it really meant that you wanted to sing. You didn’t want to play an instrument, or just compose music.

aiko: Right. That was already set in stone. It felt like the only option to me.

ーYou never wanted to go to a music-focused middle school or high school before you started applying to colleges?

aiko: Not one bit. It had nothing to do with music, I just didn’t really feel like going to high school. I basically went because my dad said I had to. I never felt like studying music when I was in school either, though. It never occurred to me that music was something you could study because it was everywhere: it plays on the radio, you hear it while walking around, you hear it playing in stores, you hear it on TV… So when I got accepted, it was… honestly, I had mixed feelings about it. Even my teachers said, “You don’t seem all that happy about it!” I didn’t desperately wanna go in the first place, so whenever I talked about it, all I said was, “I got in…” When I enrolled it was almost like, “I got in… So I guess I should go after all, huh…”

ーYou weren’t totally sold on studying music yet, were you?

aiko: I was, a little bit. Every time I went to singing lessons, I found myself thinking, “Wow, what IS this… ?” You know how you start off voice lessons doing that ‘ma ma ma ma ma~, ma ma ma ma ma~’ exercise? You’ve gotta practice that sort of stuff to make singing fun. I have to say though, there’s gotta be a more fun way to learn the basics. They are lessons after all, so they’re not that much fun. That was all I was doing, so after a while I thought to myself, “I don’t know about music school anymore…” The field day we did my senior year of high school was SO, SO much fun though.

ーWas that when you were the captain of the pep squad?

aiko: Yup! (laughs) Apparently the kids in my class who decided I would be captain of the pep squad got scolded by the teacher though. At that point I’d already decided to apply to music school. The teacher said, “I hope you all know by doing this that if she ruins her throat, it’s all YOUR fault!” I wasn’t even thinking about my throat. (laughs) My voice was so powerful I was actually kinda curious what would happen if I did hurt my throat. I’ve never once lost my voice, no matter how much I scream and shout.

ーDid you ever think about applying to a regular college as a back-up?

aiko: No, I didn’t. I had zero interest in going to a regular university. Everyone was always talking about how difficult it was to get into a private university in the Kinki region, which I don’t really understand. Someone would say, “Isn’t it amazing that so-and-so got into ABC University?” And I’d just have this blank look on my face. Like, “Huh?” I know about Tokyo University, of course. I know of Waseda and Keio too. I used think Doshisha was a company or something. (laughs) I honestly don’t know anything about colleges. Like, NO idea what’s so great about one university, or what the class curve is. My school was the ‘smartest’ in one of the top school districts, but I stopped there.

ーIt didn’t rub off on you at all, did it?

aiko: Not one bit. You might say they were really focused on skills. Like, “Wow, you’re really good at frisbee!” Because of that, I never really looked at the grade curves when applying to music school. My dad said, “If you’re going to school for music, that means you can only go to a music college!” I said, “What about an art school?” He said no. I probably would’ve found a bunch of other schools if I had looked at the music departments of women’s colleges.

ーIn spite of all that, it’s pretty amazing that you managed to get accepted into a music college with such little time to prepare.

aiko: No no, not at all. Everyone gets lucky every now and then! I’m sure they just went a little easy on me during the exams. (laughs) Classical music is so much harder. I basically had to practice for a couple hours every day. The school I went to had a ‘popular music vocals’ department. We were known around campus for being the ‘delinquent’s major’. They wouldn’t even let us use the opera house. “Popular music isn’t music,” they would tell us. All of the older professors refused to acknowledge pop music vocal students.

ーBut now that you’d been accepted into a music college, I bet you were thinking about having a career in music in the future, weren’t you?

aiko: I definitely did. I had sort of thought about becoming a singer before that, so I had already thought about starting my own career once I’d graduated from high school. Getting into a music college helped me make up my mind, I think. Part of me wanted to become a singer, so I definitely had the feeling that I wanted to cling to whatever would help me head towards that goal.

ーSo when you graduated, were you already hoping to work really hard towards that goal?

aiko: Sure. When I graduated from high school, one of the underclassmen said, “I’ll be sure to buy your CDs when you debut!” Everyone had written stuff like “I’ll be rooting for you when you debut as a singer. Good luck!” in the back of my graduation yearbook too. Seeing people write stuff like that to me definitely helped lock in those feelings, I guess you could say. They said those things to me like it was totally obvious too. “I’m definitely gonna buy your CDs when you debut, Aiko. Good luck to you!” And when they did, it made me think, “Geez, I have to work hard on it now!”

ーWould you say that that’s when your childhood dream of becoming a singer finally felt real to you?

aiko: Yes. It suddenly became reality between the summer of my senior year of high school and graduation. It hit me that I needed to get things going on my own. I couldn’t just wait around for it to happen.

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#aiko #aiko yanai #yanai aiko #aiko bon #translation

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suallenparker · 6 years

Text

Philinda Fanfic: Behind the Scenes, Chapter 13

RATING: T

SPOILER: This is set in a Universe where Phil quit his Tony Stark babysitting duties after the first gig and returned to active field work. So, basically their backstories stay the same until after the first Iron Man Movie.

SUMMARY: After her former partner Phil Coulson almost got killed in action, the traumatized SHIELD agent Melinda May returns to duty. She and Phil go undercover as contestants of the celebrated TV show “Forever Love” to catch a stalker and to trip a traitor.

NOTES: See Chapter 1. BIGGEST THANKS to @pooritalianfan, @dianemaryallison and @firedragon1109 for being the best writing buddies one could hope for! :D

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o0o

Chapter 13: Family in which they meet Diane’s mother.

He sent Faith home two days ago, so now he was down to dating four amazing women and this week he would meet their families. In less then an hour he would meet Melinda's mother – Well, he knew Melinda's mother, but he would meet Diane's mother. A fake mother. So no need to be nervous, right?

Phil washed off the bits of shaving cream, before he ran his hands over his now soft cheeks. He was already dressed; dark grey jeans, black and white checkered shirt and a grey tie combined with a black sports jacket. Classy and cool, the perfect outfit to meet the fake mom of his fake date.

The other agent on a staged home would make it feel more like a mission which was perfect, because otherwise he was about to lose it!

He applied some aftershave, the same type that Melinda had bought for one of his birthdays once, so he hoped she still enjoyed the scent.

He definitely spent too much time kissing Melinda. Maggie was thrilled with it, but it got very hard to remind himself that this was all fake. Because he was losing it.

They were always surrounded by cameras and he had to call her Diane, so distinct between what was real and what was pretense was easy enough, right? Nope.

Because it was still Melinda's lips on his and her hands on his chest when they kissed. He loved the way she tasted. He could spend a whole night just kissing her and -

That was exactly the problem!

He sighed heavily before he took the secret phone. Time to call Garrett again. Maybe that would cool him down. Or at least make him angry enough to stay focused on the job!

“Broke any hearts today?” Garrett asked once he answered the call.

Phil clenched his fist. Yep, that man definitely made him angry! “So not funny when it's true.” He modulated his voice so most of his anger was held back, he just sounded kinda tired.

“Stop rolling in self pity, at least you get to do real work.”

“Going to the Philharmonic with a beautiful woman isn't real work. “ Audrey had kissed him during the concert. Sweet. And sexy. She was such an amazing human being! Yet still, nothing compared to Melinda. Talking to Melinda was more exciting than kissing Audrey. He was such a shitty person for doing that to her. Phil bit his lip.

Garrett snorted. “Oh, poor you. At least you're not stuck in a van, is what I'm saying.”

“Yeah, that's true.” Phil swallowed hard before he switched to humor; “On a level from one to ten, how bored are you?”

“I'm considering joining an online sudoku club.”

“My face is a mask of horror right now.”

“Which one did you take to the Philharmonic?”

“Audrey.”

“The one without family, right?”

“Yes.” Which was why they hadn't spend the night with any family, but in a classical cello concert.

“Did you send her home?”

“Not yet.” Because Maggie didn't allow him to send home more than one woman a week. He had sent home so many in the early stages, that the program needed the other woman to stay on. Lying sucked.

“And who's the lucky girl you'll take out today?” Garrett asked.

“Diane. - Melinda.”

“Is it true that special agent Lian May will come in? I heard Hand say something along the lines …”

What now?

“You hadn't heard?”

He pulled in a deep breath. “You're my only real contact in this op.”

“You see Hand every day!”

“And instead of giving me important intel, she just powders my face.”

“Did she really tint your lashes?”

“What did Hand say about special agent Lian May?”

“That she'll come in to pose as Diane's mother.”

It wasn't true. He would not spend tonight with special agent Lian May. No chance. She was way too poised and classy for a mission like this. - Like her daughter. Who was here, pretending to be in love with him.

Oh crap! “And you're just telling me now?” He pulled off the grey tie. He needed to change. What was he thinking? No way would he go face special agent Lian May wearing checkered anything. “I have to hang up.”

“Just please call me after the date?” Garrett asked, sounding whiney.

Yeah, no. He ended the call. And Garrett had no reason to whine. Someone really should've told him about Melinda's mother!

o0o

Since the fifteen minutes that Melinda had arrived at the location – a stone cottage surrounded by wide fields and trees – Hand had been applying stuff to her face while Javier had pulled her around to find the perfect spot for her to stand for when Eric would arrive.

She hadn't even had time explore the house that should be her home! She hadn't even met her fake mother!

Natascha had watched everything with a smirk on her face. Once this would be over, Melinda would kick her ass for that!

But now Javier dragged her to a tree close to the driveway and Hand applied another coat of red lipgloss and then – then the limo arrived.

At least Javier and Hand vanished into the background! The camera people got into position, and – Action! - he stepped out of the car.

He wore blue jeans, white shirt, no tie and a dark grey tailored jacket. And he carried the most grand, beautiful bouquet of wild flowers she had ever seen. It was so big, he carried it with both hands.

She walked towards him in silly red high heels with peep toes that gave the “perfect” pop of color to her black dress with white dots that she was forced to wear today. At least her hair was wrapped into a functional, high ponytail. It was the only thing she would've picked to wear on herself.

Then again, as uncomfortable and strange as she felt in her outfit, it was a good reminder that this was all grounded in deceit.

So she gave Eric her best 'Diane'-smile. “You brought me flowers?”

And the smile on his face dropped so fast, it almost made her laugh.

“They're for my mother, aren't they?” She had figured as much but flustering him was always such fun! She ran her hands over his shoulders as she reached him. She could almost feel how Natascha zoomed into the scene.

Phil tilted his head. “I'm sorry.” He looked so guilty and cute, she wanted to kiss him! - Which was bad. Very bad.

She took her hands off his shoulders and hooked her right arm under his left to guide him towards the house. “She'll love them!”

Just when she turned around, her mother – her actual real life mother wearing jeans and a loose floral blouse, no less – opened the door.

“Mom!” she gasped.

Somehow Phil managed to hold the flowers with one hand, because suddenly he covered her hand on his lower arm with his and squeezed.

Without him, she might've stopped breathing. But he was here, calm and steady by her side, and she smiled at her mother. “You didn't have to come out! We were just on our way to you.”

“I just couldn't wait!” Her mother opened her arms, which was even more disturbing than the floral blouse she wore. So Melinda had no choice but to let go of Phil and go hug her mother as her heart was pounding.

What the hell was going on?

Her mother held her tight. “You look good,” she mumbled close to Melinda's ear, so nobody else could listen in. “It's so good to see you. Now relax!” She let go of her.

Melinda took a breath and gestured at Phil. “Mom, this is Eric.”

“Hello, ma'am.” He offered her the flowers.

And her mother's face lit up. “Those are beautiful! Thank you so much!” She took them off him. “Come in, kids!”

This would be a long, weird afternoon.

o0o

So far, so good. An hour into the family date, he was still alive and though Melinda had left the beautiful modern, white kitchen to be interviewed by Javier a minute ago, special agent May hadn't stabbed him with a knife, but handed him one. That might be because Nat was filming them, but still.

With a grin, special agent May gestured at some carrots on the counter. “Could you slice those?”

“Do you want them in discs or stripes?”

“Stripes, please.”

He started on the carrots while she cut off broccoli in small florets.

“You're good with that!” she said.

“Thank you! Cooking relaxes me.”

“I think so too. My daughter on the hand …” She clicked her tongue.

Phil grinned. “We had a pizza making contest and she forgot to turn on the oven.”

“You got lucky! When she was about ten, she almost burned my kitchen down, trying to make fried eggs.”

He wondered if that was a true story. “I can definitely picture that.”

She put down her knife and looked at him. “You really like her, don't you?”

And because Nat was filming them, he had to look at her too, and be honest. “It's more than that for me. She means a lot to me. A lot.”

“I can see that.” She smiled.

His throat felt tight and he focused back on the carrots.

“You're good for her, you know? I haven't seen her so relaxed ever since …” She shook her head and pressed her lips together. “It's so good to see her like this again.”

It definitely was! The way her face had looked when she had told him about Bahrain … open and vulnerable. Ever since they had returned from that hell, it had been like there was this wall between them. And now that wall was gone and he had his friend back.

“And if I know my daughter at all, you're very important to her too,” special agent May said and picked up her knife. “And if you hurt her, I'll break both your legs.”

“I don't doubt it.” Now he could smile at her.

o0o

Even later, after a good dinner that special agent May and he had cooked together, he and Melinda walked alongside a flower field, holding hands and enjoying the evening sun. They had to walk slowly, so Nat wouldn't fall on her butt as she walked backwards in front of them. Another camera person followed behind them.

Phil squeezed Melinda's hand and smiled. “Your mom threatened me.”

“Of course she did.”

“it was kinda great!”

She looked at him as if he lost his mind and he laughed.

“Scary, but great,” he clarified. “She really loves you. I'm glad you have family like that.”

“She is pretty great.” Melinda smiled too. “Scary but great.” She stopped and turned to him. “You're pretty great, too.”

And because the cameras were on them and because it was his job and it was just too hard to resist her, he leaned down and kissed her.

He was so screwed.

o0o

It was almost midnight, but Melinda couldn't sleep. They had flown back to the mansion after their walk and now she was back in her room.

She was tired and her whole body felt exhausted from the day and meeting her mother and jet leg, but whenever she closed her eyes, she thought about that kiss today. Those kisses. And she couldn't fall asleep whilst thinking about kissing Phil. Because she would dream of him and it would be perfect and then she would have to wake up. Just like this would all end eventually too.

So she grabbed her secret phone and called Hill. She picked up after the tenth ring.

“Why didn't you tell me my mother would be there?” Melinda asked. For one, because talking about her mother was better than obsessing over Phil, and secondly, Hill really had some explaining to do!

“May?”

“A head's up would've been appreciated!”

“Garrett is on the run.”

The words took a moment to register. “Excuse me?”

Hill took a deep breath. “We tried to bring him in this evening, but he was waiting for us, he took out an agent before he left.”

Melinda tightened her grip on the phone. “Tell me which way he went, and I'll hunt him down.”

“You can't leave.”

“I'll get him.” She would hunt that rat down and drag his ass back to operations. She would -

Outside her room, someone screamed so loud, it almost made her heart stop.

“Who was that?” Hill asked.

“Lorelei.” Melinda had recognized the voice immediately. Something was definitely, horribly wrong!

“Stay in place and call me -”

But Melinda was already out the door.

o0o

NOTES: Thank you all for sticking with this story and supporting me trough this progress! I had to take a break to restructure the ending of the fic, but I’m so excited for what I have planned for them (and you) now! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Can you believe there are just two chapters left?! Please let me know what you thought! I LOVE hearing from you!

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#philinda #melinda may #phil coulson #agents of shield #aos #philinda fanfiction

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miriyos · 6 years

Text

blind eye (wc: 2,074) jt/tyson

Gabe looks between Josty and JT trying to explain his thought process — how he put two and two together to get a couple out of their rookies — to Nate when it clicks. “Oh my god. They were roommates.”

“What does that even mean?” Nate asks in return, confused.

It’s okay. Gabe is the captain. He can break it down more.

JT gets the call up from the Rampage first which gives him enough time to acclimate himself in Denver before one of his Rampage friends gets the call up too. That friend is Tyson Jost.

Tys, Tyson #2, Josty, the Jostmiester.

The spirit in the locker room for the most part is down. They’re not having a great season so really, all the Avalanche can really do is go up. They literally cannot get any worse than they’ve already been performing. As captain, Gabe is delegated to take care of all the motivational speeches and he tries, but he’s tired. He’s tired of losing, he’s tired of working on lines with chemistry that keeps missing the mark, and he’s tired of this season.

His captainly duty should lead him to making sure that Tyson feels welcome to Denver but he doesn’t have the energy. He tries and his effort ends up feeling half assed.

Rookies stick together though so instead of Gabe opening his home for the rookie, JT invites Tyson to go apartment hunting with him. JT is in need of a roommate and Tyson is in need of, well, a room.

Luckily, Tyson doesn't have to suffer for as long as the rest of them. He only plays the last few games of their season before it ends.

The Avalanche is a young team though. Gabe is more confident in their next season that something, literally anything will go right for them. So he goes back to Sweden for the summer to relax and train, attends some weddings, and comes back for a new season feeling refreshed.

Most things are the same. Others take Gabe longer to put his finger on.

*1*

“You left this at my house,” Josty tells JT, handing him an opaque plastic bag. Gabe can’t tell what’s inside but Tyson is already making his away across the locker room to be nosy.

“What’s in the bag?” Tyson asks, trapping both rookies into headlocks as he takes over JT’s stall to make room for himself. Jost admits defeat while JT tries to use his big body to wiggle out of Tysons grasp. “Bring us anything?”

“It’s just a jacket I left at Tys’s house,” JT replies. He even takes it out of the bag to show Tyson. The jacket is Rampage issued with his number on the shoulder and JT’s name on the back.

“You guys hung out over the break?” Nate butts in, his shoulders slumped. “Why don’t we do that?” he asks Gabe.

“You never called,” Gabe answers.

“You saw me over the summer,” Tyson points out to Nate, “am I not enough for you?”

Nate makes an awkward noise. “Yeah, of course, dude. You’re plenty.”

After practice Gabe logs onto his Twitter for the first time in months. Sitting on the top of his feed are retweeted pictures of Josty and Comphy standing in front of a lion exhibit. The original tweet is from Josty’s sister. The caption: third wheeling with these boys.

Just bros being bros, taking one bro’s sister with them to the zoo for... supervision?

*2*

Gabe gets used to Josty and JT sharing clothes. It’s mostly just Tys stealing JT’s things though. If not for the fact that JT’s Avalanche gear is always branded with his name or number, the visual of the sleeves making sweater paws when Josty takes JT’s stuff is indiciation enough to hint what is JT’s and what is Tys’s.

They’re roommates though. They live together in Denver and they’re roommates on the road too. Clothes can get mixed up. It’s happened to Gabe before back when he was a rookie. He wore Nate’s shirt for an hour before someone pointed it out to him.

He genuinely thought he had lost weight. The shirt fit looser than usual but he didn’t think much of it until he got an earful of chirping. Gabe became more careful after that.

After getting caught once or twice, Tys becomes more and more casual hanging around the hotel wearing the number 37. The exact opposite to Gabe’s strategy which puts JT in a situation where he announces, “I’m cold.”

Josty yawns, hugging his arms closer around himself. His eyes don’t leave Nate’s PSP where he’s trying to snipe all his teammates as he replies, “I have a hoodie in my bag.”

JT sighs although he digs through Josty’s bag with familiarity to pull out an Avalanche sweater with the number 17 on it. Gabe catches JT’s eyes drag over the name Compher stretched across Tys’s back. He puts on Tyson’s sweater then goes to reclaim his spot on the bed.

It’s not weird.

Bros sharing clothes. Not a big deal unless someone makes it a big deal. Gabe isn’t going to be that person.

*3*

All the boys get fitted for brand new suits for the Mile High Dreams Gala.

LG helps Tyson get mic’d up so he can go around to interview all the boys while Peter coaches him through the questions the fans want answered. Tyson nods through it all and then completely works by his own script.

“Are you interviewing the boys or hitting on the boys?” Dutchy asks, laughing.

“Well I don’t have a date so,” Tyson attempts to explain before EJ jumps in the conversation to chirp Tyson too.

Gabe laughs along with the rest of them for a moment, then dismisses himself to see what the rookies are up to. The gala is probably their first big media event. Unlike most teams, no pranks were played on the rookies. Gabe is just a good captain like that.

“How are you boys doing?” Gabe asks, approaching Josty and JT hovering around the buffet line. Barbs and Greer swerve around Tyson to avoid being interviewed before making a beeline toward Gabe.

“Tell Tys that that tie doesn’t match,” JT asks Gabe, poking Josty in the chest.

Josty laugh. “But you said I looked good. My mom picked out this tie and you picked out my shirt.”

“Yeah,” JT agrees, “but I didn’t know that you were going to wear that together.”

Gabe looks his rookie up and down, head to toe carefully. He’s somewhat of a fashion aficionado on the team. Still, he isn’t sure what’s wrong with Tyson’s outfit. “It’s not bad?” he says, sounding much like a question.

“Those are different shades of blue,” JT points out. “Blue and navy blue. And like, stripes. You can’t pair stripes with polka dots.”

“I don’t even know what navy blue looks like,” Josty says.

“It’s a nice color. I like it but you’re too blue,” JT tries to put lightly.

“Well,” Gabe says, wanting to make the rookie feel better, “I think you look good. You look like a real lady killer.”

Gabe gets called away by Nate asking for an assist but not before JT chirps Josty saying, “Well you’re definitely killing me.”

*4*

The Avalanche get scheduled to play on Valentine’s Day against the Montreal Canadiens at the Pepsi Center. The boys with relationships briefly lament the fact that they won’t be able to make any big plans for the day but ultimately, it’s game time.

It’s a revenge match since the Habs managed to kill their 10 game win streak.

The game ends at a reasonable enough time which means there’s enough time for them to go out to celebrate the win. The vote ends up being split between going out to a club or to a restaurant for some real food. Gabe feels too tired to go out partying.

“Okay old man,” Nate chirps once it’s officially decided that the team will just split up and go two places. Nate is a free man to go out since his girlfriend is back in Canada.

“We can drive together,” Gabe suggests to the rookies that decided on food.

Josty and JT exchange glances. “I can drive me and Tys,” JT offers. “You can take more guys if we take a separate car.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” JT shrugs. “We can just meet you guys there.”

“You guys know where you’re going?” Bernie asks, phone held in the crook of his neck as he tries to gather his things. “I’m going to pick up Martine and I’ll meet you there.”

“I’ll use my phone to find it,” Josty says.

Gabe is unable to wrangle EJ, Girard, Sven, and Barbs in a timely manner. They leave last and get to the restaurant just as Bernier and his wife are pulling into the parking lot. Gabe heads inside, his eyes peeled for his rookies when he sees Tyson and JT tucked away in the corner at a table for ten.

Sitting against the wall it kind of looks like they’re on a date.

None of his teammates blink an eye so it must just be Gabe imagining things.

*5*

Gabe gets a call that Avs 360 is doing a segment for Jost with color blind glasses. He’s asked to host so he shows up only to find JT dressed up on standby.

“He insisted on coming,” Lauren tells him. “He wants to host.”

It’s not really worth arguing over, plus, the less time he has to spend on camera, the better. His hair just isn’t working with him this morning no matter how much he played with it. Plus, it’s better for the fans to get to know the rookies.

He still doesn’t leave though. He kind of wants to be present when Tyson sees all the red, blues, and greens clearly for the first time.

One thing Tyson can’t stop looking at is JT’s hair.

“It’s like fire,” he says, clearly fascinated while he reaches out to touch. JT seemingly leans closer into Tyson’s reach but Tyson does not actually touch JT’s hair. His eyes haven’t left it though. “Has your hair always been this color?”

“Yeah, I think so,” JT replies. He licks his lips, which, weird, but could mean anything.

“What do you see in the painting?” Lauren asks from behind the camera.

Tyson doesn’t hear her because JT is still talking. “Guess me and your mom don’t have to help you get dressed for —”

“How do I look? In the glasses, I mean.” Tyson cuts in, blushing as he cuts his teammate off.

“I mean, like, as good as you can look,” JT says after a long pause. He does that thing, the lip licking, Gabe is trying not to pay too much attention to.

Gabe is prepared to be insulted on Tyson’s behalf. He thinks the rookie looks good but Tyson is smiling, clearly having a good time with the experience. He’s pretty much been beaming the entire time filming.

“So, like, not that good?” Tyson asks for clarification.

“You look fine, yeah,” JT confirms.

LG calls for the scene to cut for now so the cameras can be set up elsewhere for the last few closing questions. Gabe is about to follow but eavesdropping. He’s not strong enough to resist.

“So I really don’t look good?” Tyson seems to be asking again, putting his back to the rest of the staff present for the video.

The poor rookie doesn’t seem to realize his mic is still very much on.

“I think you look good either way,” JT says reassuringly with his head ducked down. “I can see your eyes better without them.”

Tyson pushes JT away from him, laughing with that same smile he’s had on since he walked into the building. They’ve probably expected that Gabe walked away with everyone else to move onto the next part of the video so the arm JT puts around Tyson’s waist is no illusion or mistake at all.

Gabe sees it.

He sees Tyson reciprocate the gesture, his hands coming up to JT’s collar pulling his teammate in closer. JT says something private, directly whispered into his teammate’s ear and that’s where Gabe draws the line of playing spectator.

“Where’re the guys?” LG asks when Gabe shows up in the hotel lobby alone.

Gabe shrugs. “I’m sure they’re coming.”

(The inspiration for the fic. Thank you, Avs 360.)

#myfic #jt/tyson #and they were roommates #5 things fic #5+1 fic #also having two tysons on the team #very confusing #had to switch between using names and nicknames #hockey rpf

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bang-exo-tan · 7 years

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"Etched Hearts and Broken Parts" - Chapter 1

Tags/Warnings: Chankai x Chubby!Reader, mentions of blood, insecurity mention, angst

As you rounded the corner you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket for what was probably the tenth time. You didn’t know if your phone could take as much action as it had been getting in the 10 minute span since you left your house. You examined your poor little phone as you slid it out of your back pocket. It hadn’t been the newest edition when you first bought it and that was a couple of years ago. Being a videographer who could do anything when it came to television and filming, your slim little touch phone with all of its cracks and scratches had seen everything from hardwood, to concrete, to asphalt and everything in between, yet still the poor thing held itself together. It wasn’t that you couldn’t buy a new one, you had enough money to. You were just frugal and you felt like you and the phone had something in common. Broken, but still holding it together the best you both could.

You slid your finger across the broken glass thankful that after all this time, you had never been cut by it and dialed the number that had been texting you practically non-stop since you left the apartment. “You’re going to kill my phone if you keep this up. What is it?”

“You didn’t give me a hug goodbye,” she said. You could easily picture the big pout that was spreading across her lips.

“I’m sorry?” you giggled at the random childishness she was showing. “I’ll hug you when I get home.”

“You didn’t give Xing one either,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Tell him I’m sorry I guess?” your awkward reply went up a higher pitch at the end signaling to her that you were uncomfortable with the current topic.

“So you’re going to come straight home after work right?” she asked and you could hear Yixing in the background immediately ask her what you had replied.

“Yes. I’m coming home, right after work.” you emphasized. “It’s just an interview it should be a really quick shoot then I have to put away all the equipment and stuff. I promise I’ll be home right after that.”

“Ask her if she’s going to be working the camera today,” you heard Yixing ask. Before she could even repeat his question, you began to reply. “No I’m not going to be working camera. Jongdae is probably going to have me doing all kinds of work with audio and directing but I’m not going to be on camera.”

“GOOD,” they both exclaimed in unison.

“What’s going on?” You asked, “Why does it matter if I’m going to be working camera or not?”

“Ummm… well….” She mumbled a habit she always had when trying to come up with some kind of excuse when she was caught doing something she knew was wrong.

“Your sunburn!” Yixing yelled, “You always start feeling really sick after you get a sunburn and you got one yesterday. So ummm….”

“We just want to make sure you won’t be standing up the whole entire time. You know…” she explained.

“You know so we don’t have to hear you complaining about your legs and back being sore while you’ve got sun sickness,” Yixing began again. “No one wants to deal with that. Ha. Ha. ….. Ha.” His laugh was more awkward than usual but you didn’t have any more time to argue with them. The strange conversation distracted you from how long you had actually been walking and you had already made it to the subway.

“Okay. You guys just enjoy being weird together while I’m gone. I’m at the subway, so I’ll talk to you when I’m on my way home,” you were about to hang up when you heard Yixing yell your name.

“Come home soon. Okay? We’re waiting,” he said.

You let yourself get pulled back into the nostalgia of it all, and giggled as you walked down the stairs toward the subway, “Yeah, be back

~*~

“What happened to you?” You heard an all too annoying voice

“I don’t know, Jongdae,” you sneered over at your “boss” if you could or should even call him that. “Maybe my “boss” had me training a bunch of newbies in the scorching sun all day yesterday. Does something like that ring a bell?” You raised your eyebrow as you looked over at him, he was rocking back and forth on his tiptoes and whistling obviously ignoring your complaints.

You made your way to the brightly lit studio room and set your bag down to the side bringing out all of your labeled cables in case the camera operators. The studio was normal, nothing special really. A big room with a wall and floor at one end painted completely in white with three chairs in the middle, cameras docked in their rightful places at the other end, a ceiling covered in lights with some hanging down for more controlled light, and a control room off to the side; completely closed off so the ambient noise from the control room wouldn’t contaminate the studio.

You bent down to make sure all of the cables were labeled correctly, you knew they were but the double checking had become a habit.

“Here,” Jongdae said as he waved a tube of crème in your face.

“What is it?” you didn’t move to take the tube, you wouldn’t put it past him to sneak something in it.

“Here,” Jongdae grunted as he took your hand and almost smashed the crème into your hand. “It’s for sunburns. I bought it on my way here. I have a feeling that I’m going to get a call later from a very pissed off couple complaining that I’m a slave driver and giving my best worker a sunburn. Please tell them I got you this.”

His pleading look made you laugh out loud, “Thanks man,” you said through tears as you put your hand on his shoulder. You started making your way to the control room when you were stopped by a tug on the back of your collar.

“Actually about that… we’re down a few people because of the interviewees. They wanted as little people as possible and well… I have a floor manager and I’ll work all everything in the control room but I need you to work camera.”

“What?! Oh come on!” you huffed but you knew there wasn’t anything you could do.

~*~

After 30 minutes of helping Jongdae get everything ready in the control room, the interviewer and floor manager filed in. Figuring that the interviewees were not far behind, you made sure that the two cameras (one on the interviewer and one on the two people being interviewed) were in place and made your way to the camera in the middle, which you would be using the most.

Just as you predicted, it wasn’t very long after that two men strolled into the studio. The taller of the two came in first. He wore a black button up shirt with white stripes going both horizontal and vertical, making a tick-tac-toe pattern, which was tucked into his black skinny jeans, and a black blazer. There was a wide black leather band on one of his wrists, and the outfit was finished off with a pair of black ankle boots. The other, just a bit shorter but not by much, wore a white button down, with a black leather jacket on top accentuated by large gold zippers, blue jeans and black pointed ankle boots with gold studs around the bottom. Their outfits matched together perfectly and accentuated the best parts of them – which was everything from what you could tell.

You looked down at your own outfit and almost guffawed at the stark contrast. You were wearing a gray bomber jacket with an alien patch, a rainbow tie dye tank top, light wash blue jeans with rips at the knees, and gray converse. The separation of worlds just by clothing alone was comical.

The men went to sit down in their two seats to the left, and just sat and talked with each other as the interviewer reviewed the questions a few more times. The floor manager came up beside you and leaned down to your level, “This is so exciting,” he whispered.

“I guess,” you shrugged as you moved from camera to camera checking focus, headroom, and all of the other things that were needed to make the shot look good.

The floor manager didn’t hesitate to follow you around while you were doing your last minute checks, “You’re not telling me you’re not excited that one of the top celebrity couples came out with a big secret and we’re the first ones to interview them about it?” He asked but you just stared at him with a blank expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, “I don’t know who these people are. I’m just here to do my job.”

“You mean you don’t know –” he began to say rather loudly but you couldn’t hear what he said because Jongdae had stuck his head out of the control room and yelled for everyone to get ready.

You went back to your main camera and put your headphones on waiting for directions from Jongdae. When you looked in the view finder, both men were staring at your camera so intensely you peered from around your position to see if you saw correctly. When you did, they quickly went back to talking with themselves until the floor manager started counting down.

“We have the exclusive interview here with the most popular couple in Korea!” The interviewer began, “They’re with me today to answer some questions from their fans and also to give us an EX-CLUE-SIVE announcement!”

You had started feeling sick from your sunburn about halfway through the interview, so you weren’t really paying attention to what was being said until you heard the announcer’s voice cut in after the last commercial break. “Let’s not waste any more time,” she smiled as she turned from her own camera toward the couple. “Chanyeol, Jongin, please tell us about your BIG announcement.”

Your eyes widened and you stared down at your wrists, you could see it written there, as clear as the first day you saw them all those years ago. The two names written on your wrists that no one else could see, that for years no one believed were really there. Park Chanyeol, written on the left, Kim Jongin, written on the right.

You just stared at the marks on your wrists until you heard something that caused you to jolt your head upwards.

“So what do you mean you have a third soulmate?” the interviewer asked in shock.

“Well, it means just that. We have another soulmate out there,” Jongin said as he held his husband’s hand.

“It’s hard to talk about since we obviously have no proof of it, but it is true. We have a soulmate out there somewhere.” Chanyeol reiterated as he took his other hand and placed it on top of Jongin’s and squeezed.

“So are you looking for them? Why did you wait this long to announce news like this? Why did you decide to announce it now? You’re already married, how will this other soulmate fit into the mix?” The interviewer came at the couple with a barrage of questions.

“I mean we’re not particularly looking for them,” Chanyeol mumbled.

“We don’t really have all the answers right now,” Jongin said, “All we can say to the fans, to those watching is that we can no longer – in good conscience – hide that we have another soulmate.”

You were back to looking at your wrists after that not even knowing that the interview was over, it was like you were frozen in place. You were telling yourself that it was a coincidence, that maybe you weren’t the only person born with Park Chanyeol and Kim Jongin written on your wrists. That these two people, this famous celebrity couple you didn’t even know about, they couldn’t be your soulmates. They must have been someone else’s. Not you – the ugly, overweight, poor, useless, nobody. You looked up and saw the couple and the interviewer headed towards the door to the control room when Jongdae came out of the door waving his hands around.

“_________, what are you doing? Pack it up and go home. Did you get sick from the sunburn or something? Why are you just standing there?”

Your eyes widened with fear and your heart started pacing.

“____________?” your left wrist started to burn and sting and ache.

“____________.” your right wrist began to feel the same as the man named Jongin took a step toward you.

You turned on your heels and without looking back, without thinking, you ran. As you felt the blood start to trickle down from your wrists, as you felt the stinging of names being carved into them by some unknown force, you felt the tears stream down your cheeks because , your fears had been right all along. They were perfect, they were in love, they were married, and you were an overweight nobody. You had been left behind for the second time in your life. You were broken.

#exo poly #eventual smut #exo smut #exo soulmate au #exo au #exo au scenarios #exo fanfic #chankai x reader #chankai #exo poly fanfic #kpop chubby reader #chubby!reader

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thaitung · 4 years

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What Thirteen People Wore to Their Interview With Anna Wintour

The only thing that’s more intimidating than a meeting with Anna Wintour is a job interview with her. Even among staff members whom she likes working with, the editor-in-chief of Vogue is notorious for giving employees’ outfits a knowing once-over. So what happens when you not only need to dress up (it’s an interview, after all), but also must choose a look that convinces her you’re Vogue material? That’s what we asked dozens of people who’ve been through the ringer in the past few decades. Our thirteen favorite responses, full of Prada and plenty of subpar handbags hidden under desks, are below.

1. The Woman Who Spent More Than $5,000. They surprised me with scheduling my interview the very next day. Not having worked in fashion, I didn’t have anything nicer than J.Crew. So, after work, I went to Barneys because it was the only store open until eight and I could bang it out. I also found a nail salon nearby open until nine, and got a blowout the next morning. I bought a silk Proenza tank dress, Prada heels, and a Celine belt. It was like a supermarket sweep, and I spent about $2,000. I didn’t have a new bag, but then the receptionist held my (now downmarket) Marc by Marc bag anyway. They made me come in for another interview, which threw me. I started to really get into it and money stopped becoming a problem. I got a shift dress at Prada from the spring collection and then they sold me the blue patent shoes, and it all looked so good. The dress needed tailoring, but it was going to take a week and I needed it in a couple of days, so I name-dropped and they did it fast. The dress actually was on sale but still more than I ever paid for everything. I think that purchase must have been $3,500.

Got the job. 2. The Woman Who Was Told Not to Cry I didn’t spend much money at all, as I have a stash of vintage finds. I wore a vintage, linen apricot dress with gold buttons and gold peep-toe heels. I borrowed my friend’s Prada clutch to match, and wore some jewelry from David Yurman, where my friend is a designer. Before the interview, the managing editor asked if I’d ever cried on a job (I hadn’t), because she and Anna “hated going into bathroom and fashion closets and hearing girls sniffle and cry over the ‘little things’ that go on throughout the day.”

When Anna opened my portfolio and saw my address, she said, “Ah, okay. So you live in BROOK-lyn, huh?” She seemed put off by that, and also asked what my parents did for a living. When I said that they used to be teachers, she was not impressed.

No dice.

3. The Woman Who Went Back — Three Times Considering it was, I believe, 1989, I’m guessing the ensemble probably involved a teeny Betsey Johnson skirt, opaque black Donna Karan tights, and …cow booties! I’m sure she shuddered. When I got rehired there the second time, I was a bit savvier. I remember a simple black Calvin Klein sheath. And when I was interviewing for my third time back (glutton for punishment), I went to see a friend who was a personal shopper at Bergdorf for a full wardrobe!

Got three different jobs.

4. The Woman Who Wore Doc Martens I didn’t know I was going to be interviewing with Anna that day, but even if I had known, I don’t think I would have chosen my outfit any differently. I was just clueless enough to be unintimidated by the whole Vogue thing. (And it was a features assistant job, not a fashion job.) I just wore my favorite outfit from my post-college wardrobe: a dark gray Anna Sui pleated skirt, black cardigan, black tights, and Doc Martens. This was 1993, what can I say?

Got the job.

5. The Man I got an e-mail on Thursday about meeting with Anna on Monday. As soon as I hung up, I just went into preparation mode, poring over every section of all the major international newspapers. I scheduled a haircut for the following day. As for what I wore, I kept it simple: a light gray Thom Browne suit, a white dress shirt with the top button left unbuttoned, glossy dark brown leather Church’s dress shoes polished the day before (worn without socks, of course). The only flourish was a white linen pocket square and a very simple Valextra brief case. Before talking about the position, we talked about current events and then tennis (I’ve been playing sporadically since being on my high’ school’s team), which broke any ice. It wasn’t scary. She was really lovely, in fact.

Got the job.

6. The Woman Who Bought $1,000 Shoes I got a call about my interview in the evening around 5 p.m. on a Monday night. “Can you meet with Anna tomorrow at two?” I agreed, hung up the phone, and ran to my closet. Nothing. I called a stylist friend, freaking out, who said, “Calm down, she is a professional, she interviews people all the time. Stop making such a big deal about it,” before adding, “but whatever you do, don’t wear last season’s anything.” I had time to go to Soho for a pair of shoes and was waiting outside when Kirna Zabete opened. Somehow I decided that my best option was a pair of Proenza open-toed, stacked heels, despite the rain. I justified the $1K price tag and ran back home to get dressed. I paired them with 3.1 Philip Lim high-waisted, silk pants and a black Celine tote I borrowed from my stylist friend, with a belted coat by Apiece Apart. Everything else I kept super simple: little to no makeup, straight brushed hair, and a wedding ring. By God, no fragrance.

Got the job.

7. The Woman With a Mohawk This was almost ten years ago, back when Anna Wintour didn’t have to interview everyone applying for a job on staff. I was in the art department, and I tried to push the limit a little by wearing neck ties as belts or going so far as to actually shave my hair into a mohawk. That never got more out of Anna than a look and a smirk.

Got the job.

8. The Woman Who Didn’t Know Enough to Be Nervous It was 1996. I wore some kind of black wool shift/schoolgirl dress (I want to say it was J.Crew or similar) over a white button-down buttoned all the way up and these cheetah-print YSL shoes that I thought were the best thing ever and I still have even though they have bald spots and don’t really fit. I did not know enough to be worried that the look was probably not so great. I thought $300 for the shoes was pretty insane at the time and I definitely did not have Prada, Celine, or even Marc by Marc Jacobs.

Got the job.

9. The Woman Who Was Told to Get a Blowout Anna was my ninth and final interview at Vogue. I luckily borrowed a friend’s forest green Helmut Lang dress, which I wore with black tights from Alter and black Dolce Vita wedges. It was recommended by a Vogue staffer that I get a blowout for the meeting, and, reluctantly, I paid $30 to have my hair blow-dried for the first time ever at a Polish place in Greenpoint. Anna was to the point and all business, and the entire interview lasted under five minutes.

Got the job.

10. The Woman Who Had No Money HR called me and I had one day to prep. First was the interview with HR, who then rushed me down to meet with Virginia [Smith], then Jessica [Sailer], and then Meredith [Melling-Burke] one after the other. The next day, HR called and said they wanted me to come in again and meet with Anna. So I have one day to prep before my interview with Anna. I was never someone who agonized over outfits and I didn’t buy anything for it. I was literally right out of college, so I had no money. I didn’t realize people borrowed clothes; I didn’t know that was a thing. I wore a J.Crew gold sequin skirt, Mulberry doctor bag, and white silk Equipment blouse buttoned up all the way to the top with a Robert Rodriguez blazer over it. My black heels must have been Zara or Dolce Vita because, like I said, no money. I quickly realized I would never wear anything like that again at Vogue, once I saw everyone was actually wearing clothes off the runway.

I think I spent about three hours doing my hair. I ended up sleeking it back with a high pony at the crown of my head so I couldn’t fidget with it. I couldn’t twirl my hair in front of Anna.

Got the job.

11. The Woman Who Asked Anna to Wait During my final weeks before graduating from college, I got a phone call from a Vogue editor offering an opportunity to interview for a position. In my thesis-writing delirium, I thought it was some kind of dream or hoax. I asked if they could wait till after graduation, and they said they would. Right after my graduation ceremony, I took a red-eye flight to begin preliminary interviews. After meeting with four different people, I met AW wearing a black crepe wool Balenciaga dress from the latest collection (all of my graduation money combined put a slight dent in its purchase, but I don’t regret it as it’s a favorite in my closet), a white dress shirt underneath with a crisp collar and cuffs, a simple-but-interesting pave pendulum necklace, and black Prada banana heels that were all the rage at the time.

Got the job.

12. The Woman Who Went Vintage So I was maybe 21, at my first job out of college, when I interviewed with her. At that time, I had no money and figured if I wasn’t wearing high-end designer, I would do vintage. So I wore a very classic outfit with a vintage winter white pencil skirt, and a blouse that I don’t remember. I had new accessories, like designer boots and a bag by Marc Jacobs. Vintage coat. I didn’t end up getting the job, but it was last minute anyway and they had someone in mind already.

No dice.

13. The Woman Who Wore the Vogue Uniform I was a rover at Condé Nast at the time — it was early days at Vogue when black leggings, a Brooks Brothers boys department button-down, and a sweater wrapped around your waist was an adopted uniform on the editorial side. I wore a black pleated Agnes B. skirt, a black V-neck sweater from Charivari, black tights, and black pointy but squared-off Barneys loafers. Because I was already at 350 Madison that day, I left my black, pleather Ann Taylor tote bag under my desk.

Got the job.

- Fashion Confessions (The Cut)

#'more'

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the-record-newspaper · 5 years

Text

The killing of Rhonda Hinson Part 14

The original Hillcrest Memorial Park Cemetery gravesite of Rhonda Hinson in Valdese

By LARRY J. GRIFFIN

Special Investigative Reporter

For The Record

It is winter in Narnia…and has been for ever so long…always winter, but never Christmas.—The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe; by CS Lewis.

Hillcrest Memorial Park spans across a few knolls—some steep, others no so much—on Praley Street in Valdese.

Reposing there, in a well-defined section that faces the Carolina Street thoroughfare, are Waldensian forbears who migrated to the Carolina Foothills from an area near the nexus of France and Italy to escape the religious persecution meted out by King Louis XIV. [Note: This migration and subsequent settlement in Valdese is the subject of the local outdoor drama, From this Day Forward, in which Rhonda Hinson acted for three years during her early childhood.] In another sector, rests local residents who were able to obtain burial plots in the hinter-sections of the cemetery.

Danny Barus, one of the two Valdese Police officers who first arrived on the Rhonda Hinson murder scene, is buried there. Born March 28, 1949, Mr. Barus retired after 25-years as Chief of Police in Valdese and died at Frye Regional Medical Center in Hickory, after a brief illness, on Oct. 4, 2009. He was 60-years-old.

Not far from his gravesite, across the rolling terrain toward the back entrance to the cemetery, lies the initial resting-place of Rhonda Hinson.

Ron Lail, former classmate and friend, was one of the pallbearers who bore up an icy slope toward the burial site the casket of a young woman whom he described as a “…little older—making her slightly intimidating—and an excellent tennis player” whom he had faced on the opposite side of the net. “Why she ever invited me to play tennis with her is a mystery—she was so good. But I was a young man who was not about to turn down the opportunity to play tennis with a pretty girl. However, she was never flirty with me; she was dating Greg McDowell at the time.”

During a telephonic interview, Mr. Lail remembered that there was no graveside service. “All that we needed to do was to carry her casket to the gravesite. It was so icy and my shoes were slick on the bottoms; I was sliding all over the place as we were carrying it up a hill to the burial site. Once I went down to my knees [soaking] the knees of my pants. It was scary; I was afraid we would lose our grips on the casket before we got it to the grave. The funeral was held in the morning, as I remember it, around 10 a.m. or 11 a.m., I believe…I just know that I was home very early in the afternoon—plenty of Christmas left.”

By the time the Hinsons returned to their Hillcrest residence, every semblance of Christmas had been removed from their home. “I had asked my friend, when we got back from Kirksey’s the night before, to take down every holiday decoration—get rid of the tree and everything. I told her to give Rhonda’s presents to whomever she thought could use them,” Judy recollected of those morose moments both prior to and subsequent to the funeral service.

The sets of clothing that Ms. Hinson had purchased on December 22nd, from which Rhonda selected the outfit that she wore to her company Christmas party, were returned to the Alba-Waldensian store from whence they came.

For Jill Turner-Mull, the Yuletide afternoon subsequent to Rhonda’s funeral was blurred by incessant, depressive tears.

“I remember I went to my grandparents’ home after Rhonda’s funeral—just up the street from my parents’ current home. I recall laying on the couch [while] crying and crying and my aunts trying to console me…I’m sure that [Mark and I] exchanged our gifts…it would have been later that evening. I honestly can’t remember. I do remember the depression which stayed with me for a very long time. I also had terrible nightmares and would wake and swear I had seen her”

By her own admission, Christmas has never been the same for Rhonda Hinson’s best-friend.Top of Form Bottom of Form

The day after Christmas or the next, Greg and his sister, Charlene [Johnson], came to visit the Hinsons. They had essentially come to pick-up the Christmas gifts Rhonda had purchased for Greg. He never mentioned any gifts that he had purchased for her; but, Judy has reason to believe that he must have gone shopping for her daughter.

“I remembered about the jeans…When asked, Rhonda told Greg she wore size three jeans. I said to her, ‘What do you plan to do when he gets a size three and you wear a size twelve?’ With that laugh of hers she said that, ‘After Christmas, I will take them back to the store and get the right size…He will never know.’”

Charlene and Greg had only been at the Hinson home a short time when their mother, Betty McDowell, called just to ensure that they were OK. In her hand-written memoirs, surrounding those fateful, bleak December days, Judy documented that visit.

“Greg kept looking down at the floor—just like his father does. I said, ‘Greg, did you love Rhonda?’ He did not answer. I asked him again and this time he yelled, ‘Yes.’ at me. Greg also said that Rhonda would not have stopped for anyone but himself unless there had been an animal in the road…Charlene told me that she was taking Greg back to Raleigh with her. She said, ‘I don’t know what Greg will do. He has some night classes, and he says he will never drive again at night.’”

Bobby Hinson, Rhonda’s father, still remembers the day that Greg and Charlene came calling as well.

“Greg and I walked outside on the carport. I remember that he stood there staring in the direction of Eldred Street, not saying a word. I said, ‘Greg, please come back and see us. If you don’t, it will be like losing two. You are welcome here anytime’ You know, he never looked at me once; he never said anything, just stared straight ahead.”

In a twist of irony, when Charlene and her brother left after a brief visit, Greg took with him the coat that Rhonda Hinson had purchased for him for Christmas.

And aside from a brief phone call that Judy Hinson initiated with him on April 1, 1987, there has been no additional contact with their daughter’s ex-boyfriend. Moreover, neither Judy nor Bobby has laid eyes on Greg McDowell in the 37-plus years since the killing of Rhonda Hinson.

It was still Winter and the ground was frozen when workers arrived at Hillcrest Memorial Park cemetery to move Rhonda’s casket to a final resting-place at Burke Memorial Park Cemetery, located on Hwy 64/70—less than six-miles away. Bob Gurley was one of them and said as much in a brief missive addressed to Judy Hinson on The Remembering Rhonda Hinson Facebook page.

“I was one of the team members from Burke Memorial Park who helped take Rhonda to her resting place. I pray that you have closure with this. Keep this going. Might just hit the right person one day. God Bless you all.”

“I didn’t work for Burke Memorial Park; however, I would help them out from time to time when they needed it,” averred Mr. Gurley in a telephone interview with this writer who was one of his high school classmates. “We prepared the gravesite at Burke Memorial Park and then rode to Valdese to help remove the casket to transport. I remember that the ground was frozen solid—it was so frozen that we couldn’t do much with it. So, they called someone to come to help us. I think he brought a jackhammer with him to break up the ground.”

But Bob Gurley noticed something else at the Hillcrest site. “You could actually see one little corner of the vault that hadn’t been completely covered over. Apparently, whoever dug the grave didn’t take the slope of the hill into account and didn’t dig it deeply enough on that one end.”

Once extracted from the gravesite and transported to Burke Memorial Park, the remains of Rhonda Hinson were carefully recommitted to the earth. “We took extra special care to make certain that everything looked nice for Rhonda’s family,” Mr. Gurley recalled.

“There were several rumors about why we moved Rhonda from Hillcrest to Burke Memorial Park,” Judy Hinson recalled on a day when she, Bobby, and this writer walked the cemetery in search of the original gravesite. “My brother, who didn’t live in this area, was the one calling around to find a burial site for Rhonda. And he did locate this one not too far from where we live.”

Rhonda's final resting-place at Burke Memorial Park Cemetery in Morganton. Record photo by Larry Griffin

The rumors notwithstanding, the real reason for the relocation was a practical but significant one to the Hinsons. “There was only one available space there at Hillcrest; and, Bobby and I wanted to be buried next to our daughter one day. And there were enough plots for us at Burke Memorial. Rhonda’s grandmother is buried there already and not too far away from where Rhonda is,” Judy explained.

Though the Hinsons do not remember the exact date of the relocation of their daughter’s remains to her final resting place, Judy agreed with Bob Gurley’s approximate timeframe. “Yes, it wasn’t too long after she was buried at Hillcrest that we moved her—it was still Winter.”

For the Hinsons, the next four or five winters would come and go—all would have one commonality—each was bereft of any Yuletide celebrations. For their diminished, grieving family, it was…always winter, but never Christmas.

About four days after Rhonda’s murder, Charles McDowell tendered his resignation as Pastor of Wilkies Grove Baptist Church.

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mochimim · 7 years

Text

Spotlight

Genre: Fluff, ANGST, Celebrity! AU

Word count: 7.7k (my longest oneshot ever !!)

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Summary: The perfect guy, the imperfect celebrity

Warnings: Triggering topics - panic attack, thoughts of suicide

A/N: HELLO GUYS IM BACK WITH MY FIRST FIC IN QUITE A WHILE im so sorry tumblr deleted the post before this i haTE but it’s back so whooo !! this story is actually somewhat based on a personal experience, so I included a lot of personal thoughts and insights to try to make this better HAHAHAH but i hope yall like it !! i put in a lot of effort trying to write this fic and many BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS were shed but im finally done !! i really hold this story v close to myself because i actually felt all these things and i was a little delusional like the y/n in this fic !! please tell me how it was by dropping an ask into my inbox, both compliments and constructive criticism is good !! anyway besides this fic, im not yet done with dead leaves soRRY but feel free to leave me a request for the ending of chapter 7 (2nd last chapter !!) so drop me that asK ANYWAY IM RAMBLING AGAIN I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS FIC BYEEEEEE

"Miss, your interview is in less than 5 hours, are you sure that you want to be seen on national television with dog fur all over yourself?" Seulgi wrinkled her nose at me in disgust.

"Shut up Seulgi, I still have so much time," I flopped on my bed with my puppy on my chest. "And don't call me 'miss', I'm your younger sister. Don't be weird."

"You are the one who needs to shut up." She scoffed at me, but quickly started giggling and I joined in as well.

"No, but really, your stylist is waiting for you. What's his again? The cute one? Seok-min?" I let a small chuckle escape from my lips at her confusion.

"Seokjin," I got up and placed my puppy on the ground. "And take him. He's all yours." I cackled before sprinting out of my room, listening to her frustrated and embarrassed protests in glee.

"I will bet my entire career that you and Seulgi will get together by the end of this year." I mumbled to Seokjin as he handed me my outfit. He made a weird noise, probably thinking about the possibility.

"Yeah sure, I can hook it up." He said nonchalantly. I choked on my breath in utter horror and shock, I didn't think he would take me so seriously.

"Why are you making me wear something so pretty today?" I asked him as I got changed behind a curtain.

"What do you mean by 'pretty'? You look pretty every day." He said matter-of-factly, and I couldn't help but blush a little at his words.

"I'm not used to this. I can't rock dresses, full stop. I only look decent in a shirt and shorts." I sighed as I looked at myself in the mirror one last time before walking out to sit down in the makeup chair. "Where am I going later, anyway?"

"You're an Academy Award winner, a Grammy winner, and you still don't know where you're going after this. Unbelievable." He called the makeup girl over and crossed his arms. I furrowed my brows, wondering how he linked the three things together.

"You're going on national television, stupid. You're going to be interviewed by Park Jimin!" He exclaimed and threw his hands into the air, almost hitting the makeup girl in the face.

"Who?"

He gave a little gasp at my obliviousness. "Do you not watch the evening news? He's the presenter after that. He does all the celebrity news, he interviews them on radio as well. He's like Korea's very own Ryan Seacrest! Only more beautiful and younger, and did I mention beautiful?"

"Uh, so, does this give me a reason to re-dye my hair?" I murmured as the makeup girl put some bright red lipstick on me, not really caring about whoever Park Jimin was.

"You've already done your makeup, silly. You wouldn't want to ruin her masterpiece, would you?" He said, posing more of a statement than a question. "Thank you Irene." He tapped her on her back as she scuttled away in fear.

"I don't think her name is Irene," I squinted my eyes at my reflection in the mirror.

"Whatever, you're almost ready. Time for hair, time for me to do my magic." He whipped a comb out of the pocket of his pants. "We have no time for re-dying of hair. And I think that this pink hair suits you. Also, don't worry about the interview with Park Jimin later. It will be a walk in the ‘Park’!" I groaned at his very lame joke and he chuckled softly.

I tugged at the hem of my dress, trying to pull it lower.

"Seulgi, why do you look so nervous? I'm the one going out there." I asked her as she bit her neatly manicured nails.

"Look, I'm just worried for you, don't mess this up for m- for yourself, okay? Also, I'm going to be in the same room as Pa-"

Heads were turned as a man walked into the room. He looked confident and cool. He was very handsome, with a charm that seemed to go around the room. His cotton candy coloured hair looked like it took hours to style, his makeup flawless. He wore a suit that looked a little too tight, but it accentuated his muscular arms, so I wasn't complaining.

"Park Jimin-"

Stop being so shallow, maybe he's a dick.

And suddenly, I was being pushed into the set. And right into Park Jimin's arms.

"Cut!"

I heard someone yell, and I swear I heard the entire studio sigh in unison. I didn't realise that I was in the Park Jimin's arms until he pulled me up, and I dusted off my dress.

"Sorry." I bowed to him and ran off to the standby area.

"Could we do that walk in part again? Come in less violently, thanks." The mysterious voice ordered me, and I nodded at the instructions.

After coming out less violently, the rest of the interview went fairly well. I didn’t mention any embarrassing things that could expose me, but I did comment on our similar hair colours, which was enough awkward for one day.

“Hey, we have the same hair!” I blurted out just before he could ask me a question. He tilted his head and was silent for a moment, but quickly caught on and smiled at me. I stretched my hand out for a high-five, hoping that he wouldn’t leave me hanging, and he didn’t. He flashed me the brightest smile I’ve seen in a while and gave me a high-five.

“He has the most gorgeous smile. His eyes smile along with him, did you know? He literally radiated happiness, Seulgi! I can’t believe it!” I exclaimed to my sister as we were leaving the venue, but quickly stopped myself from getting too hysterical over someone I just met.

“He really is a charmer. I got the chills just standing next to him.” Seulgi smiled to herself, quite pleased that she was able to stand next to him, and then I realised all the hype over him. I was going to start watching the celebrity news show from now on. I was going to b-

“Wait!”

I felt someone tap on my back and I turned around.

To be face to face with Park Jimin.

My bodyguard was going to push him away when I stopped him. Jimin looked out-of-breath.

“S-sorry for disturbing y-you. But, w-would you like to g-go out for lunch tomorrow? For w-work purposes, of course.” He asked as he caught his breath. I looked at his panting form, and my heart doubled in size.

Stop thinking of those things.

“YES!” I yelled, startling both him and Seulgi, making them jump a little.

“But miss, tomorrow you have t-”

“Cancel it!” I beamed at the glowing boy in front of me while trying to wave away my sister.

“Uh, we can go another time if you’re bu-” He blushed a little, scratching the back of his head. My eyes widened and I immediately waved my hands frantically.

“No, no! It’s okay, tomorrow is fine. I’m sure it isn’t important.” I smiled at him again, and he reciprocated the happiness.

“Okay! Could I get your number?” He handed me his phone and I willingly took it from him, not minding that it had a bright pink phone case. I punched my numbers in and handed it back to him eagerly.

“Thanks! I’ll text you later. See you tomorrow!” He bowed to me and walked back into the studio. By then, I felt like I was going to explode.

“You know, you’re supposed to meet your father tomorrow. Are you sure you want to cancel?” Seulgi asked me cautiously. I stopped in my tracks, thinking of him.

Did l really have to choose between my father and Park Jimin?

“Cancel the lunch appointment.” I sighed after a long time of just standing there. My sister made a sound of disapproval, but I ignored her and walked back to the car.

Park Jimin.

I went to Google him when I got home.

Actor, Presenter, Singer, Dancer

He seems really cool.

His fans love him because of his bubbly personality and kind words.

Seems legit.

Was in a band called BTS and was internationally known. However, the band disbanded due to unknown reasons. Whether the members are still close is still unknown.

He was in a band? That’s so hot.

Are you sure you want to read Park Jimin fanfic?

I’ve never been more sure in my life.

But, before I could click “yes”, my phone buzzed in my pocket. My gasped and snatched the phone out a little too excitedly to be greeted with Jimin’s text message.

Jimin: hello! This is y/n right? It’s Park Jimin. Are you able to meet at the dog cafe in Gangnam tomorrow at 1? xx

I am literally going to cry.

“Yes!” I screamed at my phone and threw it onto my bed. I pumped my fists into the air in joy and threw myself onto my bed as well. “He texted me!”

The next hour was just me doing some intensive research on Jimin for ‘work purposes’, or at least that’s what I told my sister, until I realised that he didn’t text me back. I picked my phone off the bed and read the message again. And then, it dawned on me.

I was the one who didn’t text him back.

I cried out in horror and quickly typed out a short message to reply him and not seem rude.

Me: hello Jimin! Yep tmr at 1 is gud HAHAHAHA c u !!!!

Too informal?

Me: hello Jimin. Tomorrow at 1pm at the dog cafe will be splendid. Thank you for your time.

Too formal?

Me: hello Jimin! Yeah tomorrow at 1 will be good! Thanks and see you there!

I guess that will do.

And I pressed send, waiting for him to reply like I expected him to send me a message at the exact same moment I sent him one.

[read at 6:45pm]

Oh, okay then. I’ll see him tomorrow anyway.

And I spent the rest of my evening thinking about him.

“So, is my dear y/n going on a date now?” Seokjin teased me as I looked for a dress.

“I think you’re a little too nosy today. Why are you peeking into my personal life? And I’m hanging out with a friend.” I shook my head. “Do you have an outfit for me to wear today? His- I mean their favourite colour is blue, so I want to wear blue.”

“So, you just diss me, and expect me to help you to impress some trick shot guy that might break your heart?” He crossed his arms.

“Ugh, okay then. There isn’t any, so I’m just gonna take this weird purple dress.” I sighed, in hopes of winning him over using reverse psychology.

“There are jeans in the bottom right drawer. And there are nice shirts somewhere in the top shelf I think.” Seokjin whispered to me, as if he didn’t want to get caught trying to help me. I giggled at him and went to search for the clothes. I picked out a simple white shirt and ripped jeans.

“Thank you, and sorry for the trouble.” I did a half-bow to him, actually relieved that he was here to help me. A small smile danced on his lips and I took it as a “you’re welcome” and walked out to get changed.

“Jimin! Hello!” I exclaimed as I got out of the car and saw him standing outside the cafe. He looked stunning as hell, with a long sleeved white sweater and black jeans that hugged his legs that were much prettier than my own, completed with a green beanie on his head.

“Oh, hello y/n. Are you ready to go in?” He flashed me his signature smile, and I was at a loss for words yet again. All I could muster was a slight nod, and he took my hand and led me into the cafe.

Park. Jimin. Is. Holding. My. Hand.

As we entered the place, we were greeted by at least a million puppies, nipping and yapping at our feet. Or at least I was. The dogs didn’t go near Jimin, strangely enough. I squealed at the cute puppies and picked some up to cuddle. Jimin tried picking one up, but it kind of growled at him, so he playfully growled back at it, making me giggle.

Many people in the cafe stared at Jimin and I, and I wasn’t sure whether it was because of Jimin’s good looks, his fame, my actor status or the fact that we were together. BUt it didn’t really bother me, I was just happy that I was with him at that moment.

With a puppy snoring on my lap and Jimin holding my hand in his, it was bliss.

“This one’s name is Bubbles, Jimin. He’s super cute, look at his face!” I whispered to him, afraid to wake the sleeping pup. He nodded fondly and peered at the dog’s face.

“He actually looks like my friend’s dog. I like him.” He nodded in approval and I smiled at him.

“I wonder why the puppies aren’t coming to you. Maybe I should trust them.” I jokingly said with a small wink. He chuckled at my teasing words and picked a dog up.

“What secret do you know about me? Huh?” He lowered his voice, trying to seem manly. But, the dog squirmed in his hands, so he put it down and it scuttled away.

“So, you’re an actress right? I’ve seen you in some dramas. You’re really good.” He murmured to me, and I swear I’ve never blushed so hard.

“Uh, i’m not very good. I just get casted in things for publicity, I guess.” I looked away from him in shame, not really wanting to talk about my career. “But how about you, Mr. actor-slash-singer-slash-presenter-slash-dancer? You’re multi-talented. That’s really cool.”

“I’m not that talented, come on. You’re-” he laughed at me, but was interrupted by a girl tapping on his shoulder. The girl looked about 15, with plaited hair and braces, and she held a notebook with Jimin’s face on it.

“Oppa-ya, could you sign this for me please?” She tilted her head to the side, making me want to laugh at her cute attempt of winning him over. He stared at the girl for a little while, and then magically whipped a pen out of thin air and signed her book. The girl was obviously really happy, as she squealed with joy when he handed the book back to her, and she went away skipping.

“I think that we should leave here and we can go to my house to chill out. It’s about a five minute walk from here. What do you say?” He suggested, and I willingly nodded, reluctantly carrying the sleeping puppy on my lap to his bed, and we left.

“Today’s weather is really nice, don’t you think?” I said it mostly to myself, but he hummed in response. I felt his hand brush against mine, and I laced my fingers in his. My cheeks were burning, but I could blame that on the weather.

And there we were, walking down Gangnam Street, ignoring all the surprised netizens and flashing of cameras. His expression looked a little strained, and I felt like mine was too, but when I looked at him all my worries melted away like ice cream on a hot summer day. He looked so beautiful in the bright sunlight, contrary to the sharp wind that tangled my hair and made me look like I was going very red.

We walked all the way until we reached a very tall, very modern building, and into a lift that took us to the penthouse. Once I stepped into his apartment, my mouth hung open. I couldn’t think straight looking at all that expensive looking furniture, and the five other beautiful men sitting on a couch that looked like it was bought with all the money I had earned.

“Ah, there they are! I’d like to meet my friends.” He squeezed my hand, and I had never been more glad that his seater covered his hands, because my hands were sweating.

It’s only been one date, and he’s introducing his friends to me now? This is going a little too fast, but I shouldn’t say anything.

“Guys, this is y/n. Remember her from that drama Temptation? Yeah, she was playing the young Park Jiwoo.” He asked the five men, and all of them sat up and nodded their heads.

“Y/n, the one in blue is Namjoon-hyung, the one in black is Yoongi-hyung, the one in green is Hoseok-hyung, the one in white is Jungkook and the other one in black is Taehyung.” He introduced, and I gave a polite bow to all of them. They all nodded to me, besides Taehyung and Jungkook who gave me an enthusiastic “hello!” each.

“I’m so sorry, I actually have to leave for a little bit, I have to settle some stuff with the producer of my evening show. I’ll only be gone for two hours at most. Would you like to stay here, or do you want me to take you home right now?” He said, not looking up from his phone.

“Um, I think I can stay here and wait for you,” I beamed at him, and he looked up at me and beamed back.

“Great! Guys, please treat her well and don’t scare her away.” He turned on his heels and came dangerously close to my face. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” He whispered to me, and his lips brushed my cheek. I felt a tingle run down my spine and I nodded furiously. And he smirked and left.

I stood awkwardly at the entrance of the apartment, facing the five guys. They gave me a small nod, and gestured for me to sit with them. I gulped and moved my wooden legs to sit on the comfiest couch i’ve ever sat on.

“So, y/n, how old are you? Are you a 95 liner like Jiminie?” The one in blue asked me. Namjoon, was it?

“Uh, I-i’m a 95 liner, yeah.” I stuttered, trying to hide my increasing nerves.

“Don’t be nervous, we don’t bite,” Hoseok chuckled, and I felt the need to smile along.

“So, are you and hyung going to get married? I like you, you seem really nice!” Jungkook blurted out, earning him a light smack on his arm by one of his hyungs.

“Um,” I coughed, expressing my nervousness. “We’ve only been on one date, so I don’t so as of now.”

“I think you guys are making her nervous, you guys should go now.” Yoongi told the rest in a monotonous voice. They all grumbled, but did as he said, and I said my silent thanks to Yoongi for helping me. He stayed on the couch, though, but I didn’t really mind.

“I’m Yoongi, if you forgot.” I nodded at him, confident that his name was the easiest to remember. “You don’t need to call me Oppa, if that was what you were thinking.” He clarified, and even though I wasn’t thinking about that, I nodded along.

After that awkward first words, we started talking. About our likes, dislikes, favourite things and least favourite things. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and surprisingly relatable as well. We had many things in common, and we mostly talked about music. He liked rap and hip hop, so did I. I even let him listen to some of my songs that I had recorded for fun, and he gave me a stamp of approval.

“Wow, should I be honoured that THE Min Yoongi gave me a thumbs up on my joke song?” I giggled, and he flashed me a gummy smile that I never thought that I would ever see.

“Yes, yes you should.”

But, before I could show Yoongi my other joke song, Jimin came in from the lift and sat beside me.

“You seem really comfortable here, that’s a good sign. Would you like to stay for dinner? I think Jungkook is cooking glazed sweet potatoes, and it’s really an interesting experience to eat that.” He asked me, looking at me with those gorgeous eyes and I immediately nodded without thinking.

“Great, I’ll be in the kitchen for a bit. I’ll be back.” His hand lingered on my arm a little too long, and I felt my blush creeping up to my cheeks again. Yoongi had also gotten up to go to the bathroom, so I was alone in the living room.

I took my phone out to check the time, when I saw the twenty-one missed calls and fifteen messages Seulgi had sent me. I sighed and rubbed my temples, worrying that Seulgi was going to overworry. I called her back and held my breath, preparing myself for a big scolding from her. She was working for me, but I was still her younger sister.

“Unnie?” I whispered into the phone, and I heard her cry out in frustration.

“First, you don’t answer my calls, and now you’re suddenly calling me unnie? I was so worried for you! You just ignored my calls, and I had to do everything myself! Where are you right now? I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

“Seulgi, please. I’m fine. I’m at Jimin’s house, it’s fine! But, can I stay for dinner? Please, they asked and I already said yes.” I pleaded into the phone, not caring that Jimin had entered the room and sat on the space next to me.

“You have so much to do tonight, what are you doing being at his house for so long? You have to send emails to-”

“Yay, thanks Seulgi! I love you very much! I’ll be home before ten and I’ll have plenty of time to finish up my work thank you! See you, I love you!” I dragged out my last word before hanging up on her and exhaling very loudly. Jimin pet my head, and I instinctively leaned towards him and lay my head on his shoulder.

“Ewww~ You guys have only been on one date, and you’re already so lovey-dovey.” Jungkook came into the room wearing an apron that said “kiss the kook” and a very disgusted expression. I was going to comment on the younger’s cute words, but Jimin beat me to it.

“Date? What date?”

I felt my heart break into two.

He said it with such confusion, that I couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, making him look more like a child. He blinked at us awkwardly for a moment, but quickly came to his senses. “Dinner is ready, y’all can come now.”

Jimin got up and pulled me to my feet, and we made our way to the dining room together, but I suddenly lost all appetite.

He didn’t see today as a date? Then what did he think it was?

But, I pushed all my negative thoughts aside to be replaced by the glorious food in front of me. Not only could he ‘kook’, he could also cook.

We spent dinner talking about everything we could think of, and trying to pry the sweet potatoes off the plate. It was Jungkook’s special dish when everyone was sad or during a happy occasion, they told me, and I smiled at them.

After that day, Jimin and I became closer and closer. I ignored his words that hurt me before, and I tried to move on.

Maybe he just was trying to protect his dignity.

He texted a lot, and we called and video called a lot as well. We talked about everything, from good things to bad things, but we were never at a lost for words. We never got bored while talking, nor did we run out of things to say. Conversation flowed really well, and sometimes I felt myself wondering why I had ever doubted him for being a dick.

I talked a lot to Yoongi, as well. He was someone I could talk to comfortably without it getting too awkward. Our similar taste in music usually took the wheel in our conversations, we recommended music to each other and that strengthened our friendship.

Jimin and I went on a few more ‘dates’, or whatever he thought they were. We went out to eat, I went to his house to watch a romantic movie, we went shopping together, and many more things that I really cherished.

There were too many news articles about us to ignore, but Jimin didn’t seem to be bothered.

“It’s going to die out soon if we don’t address it, it’ll be okay.” He flashed that award-winning eye smile again, winning me over in a snap of a finger.

The news articles didn’t bother me, though. It was the number of news articles surrounded around our “pending relationship”. All of them said the same thing, all talking about how people saw us around together, holding hands and asking if the fans thought we would be a good couple or not. Most of the comments said we would be the cutest celebrity couple, and I didn’t deny them.

We were busy, I had a new drama that I was working on and he had his presenting career, but we made it work. We carved out time in between shoots to see each other, and even if we couldn’t see each other in person, we would call or text.

And every day, I fell more and more in love with him.

I couldn’t help it, it just happened. It hit me one day out of the blue. I didn’t just like him, I loved him. He brought so much happiness into my life, and introduced me to so many people that I wouldn’t ever trade for the world. I felt like if I ever let him go, all these things would suddenly disappear from my life, leaving me stranded in my own pit of loneliness and self-pity.

I also clung onto the hope that he would love me back.

Even when everything came crashing down.

So, I was close to two people in his friend group, Taehyung and Yoongi, and I really trusted the both of them. So, I told them my secret.

“I think i’m in love with Jimin.”

Taehyung spat his drink out onto the coffee table in front of him.

“Huh? What do you mean? You love Jimin? Are you sure this isn’t infatuation?” He spluttered out, probably very shocked at my sudden confession. Yoongi held his cam and cool exterior, so i didn’t really know what he was thinking at the moment.

“I don’t think it’s infatuation. Every time I go near him, or think of him, or talk to him, my heart begins to flutter. It’s not under my control, if I could I would definitely not want to feel like this, but I do. When we talk, I get excited over small things. I can feel it in my bones, Tae. have you ever felt this way about a woman?”

“Not about a woman,” he blushed and turned to face the back.

“Y/n-ah. Congrats on finding love and everything, but here’s the thing: do you want a relationship with him? Otherwise, all this is irrelevant.” He bluntly stated, making Taehyung shift in his seat and making me feel a little uneasy.

He had put it harshly, but he was right. So what if I found love but didn’t want a relationship? Did I really want to spend a long time, possibly the rest of my life, with this man?

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Okay, then good for you.” Yoongi curtly nodded and went back to scrolling through his phone. Taehyung seemed a little off, but quickly whipped out his phone and started scrolling too.

Was it so wrong that I loved him?

Me: Jimin-ah!I have about 2 hrs before our next shoot tgt! Would you like to come over or I can go over as well :^)

Jimin ❤️: busy.

Me: We can go to the venue together :^)

Jimin ❤️: can’t. sorry.

And that’s when it all came crashing down.

He hadn’t been like this before, why was he acting so cold towards me all of a sudden? Oh, cmon y/n, it’s just a text message, maybe he’s in a meeting. You’ll see him during filming.

And I did see him during filming, but he didn’t see me.

“Jimin!” I called out to him and waved. He looked back, but looked away just as fast. His pace quickened as he disappeared into his changing room. I was left there, hurt and very confused.

Our characters did not have much interaction except for one scene. And we were going to film that one scene that day. It was a comedy drama about two colleagues fighting for the head position but end up falling in love later in the story. He was playing the boy’s overprotective friend, who causes a lot of problems later in the story, but is checking the girl out to see if she is “worthy enough” to date his friend.

“Ya, are you the idiot who is dating my best friend?” He coughed into his fist, already fully into the character.

“Are you using informal language with me? We don’t even know each other.” I snapped back, wavering a little under his strong gaze.

“Ya, listen up, I’ve heard that I’m older than you. So back off.” He squinted at me.

“Look, I don’t even know you. I’m just here t-”

“You know, you’re really pretty. Easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Jimin winked at me, and I desperately searched for any signs of genuinity in what he just said. After his character had said that line, my character was supposed to throw her cup at him, but I was too busy ‘looking for love’ that I totally forgot what to do and screwed the scene up.

When the director yelled cut and we returned to our original positions, I thought I saw him roll his eyes, but I chose to ignore it.

We did the scene one more time, and we wrapped it up perfectly.

“Hey, Jimin, you were really good!” I tapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him. The corners of his lips turned up a little, and I took this as a good sign.

“You too.” He nodded at me and walked away.

Well, it could have been worse. He could have totally ignored me, but he didn’t. Does this mean that he likes me, just a little?

I spent the rest of my day smiling and thinking of him.

But as we got further and further into the filming, he ignored me more and more, and interacted with me only when it was necessary. We stopped texting regularly, and he stopped asking me out to hang. We kind of just stopped everything we had.

But, I still prayed and hoped that he had some feelings for me, because I sure did have feelings for him.

I started hanging out with Yoongi more than him, and we would just sit and talk about anything and everything under the sun. But, I needed to ask him about Jimin.

“Yoongi-ah, do you think Jimin thinks that I like him? Is that why he’s acting so strange?”

“Oh, he knows that you like him.”

What?

“What? Who told him?” I yelled, running over to his side. “Oh my god, I can’t fucking breathe. I’m going to faint.” I started hyperventilating and everything looked a little blurry.

“I think it would be best if you didn’t faint on me,” he said with a serious tone, but I could tell that he was a little worried. “I heard Jungkook talking about it to Hoseok, that Jimin knows that you like him. I didn’t tell him, if you’re wondering. And I don’t think Taehyung did either. Besides, I don’t think he’s acting strange on purpose. I’ve known Jimin for eight years now, he’s a genuine dude. He wouldn’t hurt someone intentionally. He’s just a little oblivious.”

“Do you think that he will forget about this?” I looked up at Yoongi with tears ready to spill out at any negative response Yoongi was forming in his head.

“I honestly think that he will. It might take a while, but he’ll eventually forget it and everything will go back to normal. Jimin doesn’t hold grudges easily, and I think that he’ll understand later on. But we will save that story for a time when we’re all old. You can still have feelings for him, nobody’s going to stop you. And you know, maybe he’ll like you back, but I can’t decide that for him. You just have to be patient and see what happens.” He reassured me, holding my chin up to face him as my warm tears glided down my cheeks in silence. “But for now, let’s go get some ice cream to calm you down a little. And let’s bring Seulgi along, I think she feels a little left out sometimes.” He stood up, and pulled me to my feet. He draped an arm around my shoulder and I buried my face into his shoulder.

“Thanks Yoongi.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

With Yoongi’s blessing, I continued to harbour feelings for Jimin. Seeing as I saw him almost every other day, I thought about him a lot. As I saw him acting, I thought about how he was so talented. His character was basically the comic relief, he made me laugh until my sides hurt. He never failed to make my day, and I hoped that my scenes made his day as well.

I would try to initiate conversation and we would occasionally have a short conversation about anything we wanted to talk about. I was really happy when he replied to my messages, I sometimes would screenshot our messages and show them to Seulgi so she could fangirl over the fact that I was friends with her celebrity crush.

“Y/n, can I be super honest?” She asked me once while looking at our messages. I was sitting on the couch, eagerly waiting for her reaction.

“Yeah, sure.”

“He seems like he’s replying with very little effort. You see, you typed such a long message here, and all he replied you with was a ‘cool’. I think you’re putting in too much effort into this, little sis. You might want to back down a little, give the dude some space for a bit and try again.” She sighed, and I felt a little bit of anger boiling up inside of me, not sure whether it was because of her blunt words, or the fact that I had suspected it as well.

“Seulgi, I don’t think you should butt into things like this anymore.” I murmured, taking my phone from her and slinking back to my room, locking the door behind me. I flopped onto my bed and had a long, silent cry.

I could sense that he wasn’t really putting in much effort, but he replied me. He could have ignored me.

As the months passed by, my love for him grew stronger, he pushed me away more and more, until we stopped talking altogether. I didn’t really like the distance between us, even if we saw each other regularly, and I kind of slipped into a slump. I was constantly lethargic, I had massive headaches and I felt a little numb to all emotions. Sometimes, I would lie on my bed, body ridden with insomnia, thinking about him, about us. What we were. But sometimes, I cried myself to sleep, as dramatic as that sounds.

My heart ached for him, I felt empty without him, and when I was with him, I felt heartbroken. I didn’t know how or what to feel. There were a few thoughts of self-harm running through my mind, and I did attempt to do it, but when I picked up the blunt butter knife, I couldn’t hurt myself. There was something in me screaming that it was a bad idea, and I would just end up sitting on the ground, unharmed on the outside but broken on the inside. I mentioned these things to Yoongi, and he was very supportive even though he didn’t quite understand.

“Yoongi, I feel really bad right now. Is this normal?”

“Y/n-ah. You shouldn’t feel bad. Like I told you, I’m very sure that Jimin doesn’t know that he’s hurting you. I won’t tell him so you won’t be ashamed, but I don’t think that this is something you want to keep up with. It’s very problematic and it’s taking a very obvious toll on you. You look so thin, and your eyes are dull. Take a little break of filming is what I think you should do.” He continued to talk but I couldn’t really hear him anymore.

I looked down at myself, my wrists, my thighs, my stomach. All of them seemed thinner than normal. But that was just because I had no appetite, I wasn’t bulimic or anorexic, I simply just didn’t feel like eating. But why?

There were so many articles talking about how thin I was. My fans were very supportive, telling me to be strong and be healthier, but they didn’t know what this felt like. Only I did.

And that’s when I decided that I was going to get over him.

I knew that it was going to be difficult and extremely painful for me, but this ‘relationship’ I had in my head was obviously not going to happen in real life. I didn’t blame Jimin at all, it was not his fault, neither was it mine. But sometimes, things just happen, or they don’t.

“I’m going to get over him, I’ve been stuck in this crush for too long already. It’s almost been a year and a half, I think I’m ready to stop.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I told Yoongi, and I had no intention of holding them back.

“I’m here for you.”

So, from then on, I promised myself that I would get over him. Every time I thought of him, I would mentally slap myself and think of something else, which sort of worked, but my mind would naturally gravitate back to him like a paperclip to some sort of magnet, and I had to repeat the process, leaving me mentally and physically drained by the end of the day.

I was a pretty vocal person, so I decided to talk to Yoongi about it. He was a good listener, quiet and sturdy, and he sat quietly next to me, hearing all my feelings through text or in person. Sometimes he gave me advice, which was mostly to naturally get over him, but most of the time he just sat there listening intently.

I tried talking to my other friends as well, leaving his name as a blank, but they all gave me the same response: if you want to get over him, just stop talking about him, that way you won’t think about him as much. But I already thought about him on a daily basis, so what was the difference if I shut up?

I couldn’t breathe.

All the air in my body felt like it was being sucked out. I felt like dying.

I just got home from a photoshoot that went terribly wrong because the camera director thought that I was not the right model and started throwing a fit. It turned out okay in the end, at least he didn’t hurt me, but it still hurt my feelings.

As my car was pulling up into my driveway, I felt nauseous. I bolted out of the car and ran straight for the toilet, where I emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. NOt that there was much to empty, though.

I just sat on the ground, and reality hit me. Getting over him was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

I had done many crazy things to prepare for a role, like egg someone’s house to study their reaction, cut my hair unevenly to see what the media would say about me, and hug random strangers on the street to see what they would do.

None of them was as hard as staying conscious while having a panic attack.

And there I was, on the floor of my bathroom, having a panic attack. My breathing was rapid and shallow, and I couldn’t think straight. All my thoughts flew out the window, but the thought of Jimin stayed with me, comforting and hurting me at the same time.

I started hysterically crying, and Seulgi started banging on the door. Everything was blurry and disoriented, like I was looking through a fisheye lens. I slammed my head on the wall a few times, trying to knock some sense into myself as I hyperventilated, but it didn’t work.

I was a mess, sobbing on the damp floor, eyes bulged out, gasping for air and comfort.

What do I do? What did I do? I can’t breathe.

I tried counting the number of light bulbs in the room to take my mind off this attack, but everything became blurrier, and I had to focus on staying conscious.

My trembling hands reached out for my phone in my pocket, I had no energy to grab so I just dragged it out and held it. It looked like it was vibrating, but it was just me.

I dialed the first number that came to mind and held it next to my ear.

“Yeoboseyo?”

“Yoongi, panic, attack, please, help.” I wheezed into the phone.

“Square breathe. Four in, four hold, four out, four hold. I’ll be there, just wait for me.”

He arrived at my house with a stuffed bear and a concerned expression. I stared at him from the mountain of blankets I had buried myself under.

Seulgi had managed to open the door to the bathroom and saw me crying on the floor. She immediately managed to get me up as I was too tired to resist and brought me to my room. She was in the kitchen making me a warm drink, and I thanked the gods for my wonderful and caring sister.

“What happened?” Yoongi said as he set the bear down.

“Yoongi, I don’t know what to do.” I hiccuped and closed my eyes to soothe the headache I felt coming on. “I really want to get over him, but I feel...I feel like...I don’t know how to explain it. But, I really love him. And when I try to forget him, it hurts. And when I think of him, it hurts. Yoongi, I am hurting. My heart is hurting. I can’t do this. I’ve never been in this much pain in my life.” I started crying all over again, but this time it wasn’t hysterical. It was the silent type, where tears just fell from your eyes, making you hurt even more. My nails dug into my skin, making little crescent indents into my arm.

I was going through so much, with the fame and now this. I couldn’t take it. It was too difficult.

“Yoongi, i’m in so much pain. I want to hurt myself, but I can’t. I can’t do that to myself. I can’t continue with life like this, Yoongi, I can’t.”

I looked up and saw tears rolling down his pale cheeks, but he didn’t make an effort to wipe them away.

“It’s going to be okay.”

1 year later

“Jimin-ah! Is that you?” I yelled out, and he turned around to face me. A grin spread across his face like wildfire, and he walked towards me with a spring in his step.

“Y/n! How have you been? I haven’t seen you lin like a year!” He stepped forward and embraced me. I felt the urge to wriggle out of his touch, but I took a deep breath and hugged him back. It felt good.

“I’ve been good, a little busy with filming and photoshoots, but otherwise good! We should meet up sometime to hang out.” I smiled at him warmly, and he returned the smile with a genuine one. But, after a while, his smile faded a little, and there was a glint of worry in his eyes.

“Y/n, I need to tell you something.” He held my hands, and my breath quickened a little.

“Yoongi told me about what happened last year. About, you know, me and you.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to apologise. I swear I didn’t intentionally hurt you. I was just a little freaked that a beautiful girl like you would love an idiot like me, so I wanted to distance myself a little. I didn’t know that I would end up hurting you. I was so immature and I really just want to start over with you. Do you forgive me?”

‘Hmm,” I pretended to think, picking at my nails, teasing him a little. “I’d have to think about that. But do you know what will make me make my decision faster? Us hanging out, sometime next week? I’ll call you.” I gave him a playful thumbs up, and he laughed as he shook his head.

“Of course, we’ll arrange a date.”

“It’s settled then.” I did a playful bow to him and started to skip away, but dipped my head backwards to say something before I left.

“Hey Jimin,” I called to him and he raised his head to look at me with confusion. “Remember when I was whipped for your ass?” He tilted his head and I flashed him a cheeky smile.

“Yeah, me neither.”

#bangtan bookclub #bt-yes-network #btssunshinenet #bts fluff #bts angst #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts jimin #park jimin #i hope yall like it !!

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3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 850

Perfect Martini

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Lulu Schü would love these fries. Should we bring some back for him? They probably won’t travel well.”

“Do you still feel bad we didn’t bring him?”

“No. Can you hand me another napkin?”

André walked over to the horse show to collect Christina for lunch when she was finished riding Nick and Rio during the open schooling period in the competition ring wedged between the restaurants and Monaco’s famed, glittering harbor. He wanted to take her to a burger joint a few blocks away, and have an hour alone with her. Lukas was going shopping with Espen. The whole family had been together nonstop for days and days, and mostly out on the water. The player was getting cabin fever, and wanted a break from family time. He knew he was going to get lots of breaks from it throughout the weekend since his girl would be spending much of her time around the show, but he also knew she would be around all of her friends too. Burgers for lunch would probably be their last “date” of vacation. The place he found had an old McLaren Formula 1 car on the wall, and two kinds of French fries. Christina ordered both. Her crispy shoestring fries were plain and crunchy, and her thicker, softer, plank-like chips were smothered in liquid cheese and bacon. André had seen a lot of pure pleasure, delight, plain happiness, and joy in his wife’s face recently. She looked as happy about the two paper cartons of fries as anything else.

“Remind me again. When I give him my condolences, am I supposed to be very grave and serious, or is it more like an “oh, that’s too bad” kind of thing? I don’t know the protocol for this,” he told her while she wiped grease from her hands so that she could respond to a message from Daniel, who just lost one of his best horses-his first Olympic mount, no less- to colic. The horse was home in Belgium, so he didn’t get to say goodbye.

“Something in between. Just try to be natural,” Christina shrugged. Her colleague wanted to know if she had any extra wristbands for all-access at the Tour venue.

“Do you like your burger?”

“Yeah, it’s really good. D’you want a bite?”

André nodded and the rider passed her paper-lined plastic basket over the piles of fries. She got a turkey pesto burger with melty fresh mozzarella and tomato on garlic ciabatta. The only reason she was even willing to give up an André-sized bite was the fries. Christina was definitely going to devote more of her stomach’s capacity to fried potato, liquid cheese, and bacon. The two athletes had been eating very well on the boat, not drinking too much, and working out together regularly, so they were due a major indulgence. They’d been sharing all of their food too, and pretty much everything else. The BVB sophomore always believed that their relationship would be saved and strengthened when they could be together again for an extended period, without distractions, and their sailing holiday was proving the theory, at least in the short-term. They couldn’t get away from one another, and everything was great. Being stuck together on the water, out of sight of dry land, was like forced therapy. There was no telling if the new intensity of their bond would last when there were miles between them again, but there was hope.

“This is good as a sandwich but a burger should be a burger,” he declared after the taste test. His order was beef and Swiss with onions and mushrooms, lettuce, and tomato, on a brioche bun. As indulgences go, it was a pretty big one for him. Taking Christina out for burgers and fries was a bit of a ritual thing for him though, so it was fitting. It was his solution for a lot of her problems, and their problems. There was no way she could be overwhelmingly upset if she was enjoying a cheeseburger. A meal like that could subdue fires enough for him to get in there and work to put them out instead of just throwing water at a blaze one bucket at a time, which is how it sometimes felt to him when he tried to fix his wife’s more complex problems.

“Your face is a burger.”

“Are we going back to the show after this or are you all done?”

“I promised a Eurosport writer half an hour, but I can invite her to the boat. It doesn’t have to be at the show if you don’t want to go back. Or I can just go back by myself,” Christina shrugged before feeding herself a long potato plank dripping with cheese, one savory bite at a time.

“I don’t care about the venue. I’m thinking about free time to do things. Would you like to visit the shops near the casino? Walk around? After your interview I guess.”

“Yes! But I also want to be back in time to do Munchkin dinner and bedtime, and have a disco nap with you before I have to get ready.”

“How late are we going?” André raised an eyebrow at his girl’s proposed agenda. They were expected at the official GCT pre-party at a nightclub, and Lukas was supposed to go to bed early because his schedule was getting out of control. Vacation was terrible for keeping him on a program.

“It doesn’t start until 10 and we can’t be the first people there. Duh. Oh! Maybe I can get new shoes or something for the party. I feel so disadvantaged being away from my closet for so long.”

“You could just wear these strange riding pants,” the player suggested as he leaned over to look under the table. Christina did her morning schooling in baby pink breeches and a white adidas tee.

“They’re not strange! They’re nice. They’re girls’ actually. I ordered them online from the US.” Things I never would have bought in the past: baby pink anything for riding, the rider chuckled to herself. I used to get dirty all the time though. If you don’t have to do any of the dirty barn work, you can wear light pants. I mean, if I manage to wear white breeches all day on every show day without being filthy, baby pink is okay. “Plus I can walk around places like Monaco in them and maybe other people just assume I’m wearing pink leggings. Pikeur gray stands out in a crowd because nobody wears regular pants in that color. They have to be riding pants. And it would be weird to wear any of my navy or black ones because it’s summer and it’s hot and who does that?”

“Hey, I like this look. The Velcro cuff thing opened and turned up to show off the ankles really complements the thong sandals,” André joked about his girl’s standard warm weather post or between-rides outfit. He was also teasing about ankles, because she complained about every single pair of pants he wore out in public on the entire trip because they were short and showed off his ankles. She didn’t like that unless he was also wearing sandals, and he always wore sneakers or loafers.

“I like the look of the cheese fries. Actually, can you take a picture of me with all the food?” she asked, thoughtful. “I haven’t posted anything fun in days.” Her family holiday had gotten very private. André wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t need to share his vacation with 3 million followers, and Christina followed his lead. They took a ton of pictures on the water, on beaches, on a bike ride through a wildlife park, on playgrounds, and in multiple ice cream shops. The snaps were just for themselves though. Christina sent a few to Juan, and Natasha, and even Tom. There was a small sense of liberation in ignoring social media for 10 days. Her partner in crime and potatoes took a photo of her biting into her turkey burger, with all the other food in the foreground, and then told her she couldn’t have her phone back to post it until after they finished eating. He didn’t want to be there all day.

Lilly XO was docked a 90-second walk from the GCT media center tent, directly east of the famous swimming pool. She was flanked by other superyachts on both sides. If her owner were exceptionally lazy, she could walk to the end of that section of the dock and have the Fonz pick her up in the launch there and drive her 20 seconds deeper into Port Hercule to the “by water” entrance to the horse show. Obviously it was easier to walk. Christina met up with her interviewer at the tent and invited her to walk over to the boat with her and André so that they could have their chat there and she could change before walking 15 minutes or so to the boutiques that made her smile as part of the backdrop during the Monaco Grand Prix of the motorsport type.

The interview was almost entirely about the Olympics- how she was preparing mentally, how the horses were prepared, who she expected to be the toughest competition individually and as a team, her expectations for the venue, her hopes for the experience, etc. It wasn’t supposed to be. The writer told Christina she wanted to talk about the Tour. The rider kept trying to steer things away from the Games. She wished she had just done the sit-down at the media tent, because she could have easily pretended something came up on her phone and ended it early. It was a lot harder to do that while sitting on her own deck. It would be rude to ask her to leave. Her anxiety about being trapped in the interview, and forced to discuss the thing she’d been avoiding so diligently, made her regret all the French fries too. Her stomach hurt. Her face felt hot even in the shade of the next deck up. André couldn’t bail her out because he was playing with Lukas, inside. The whole thing put her in a bad mood, and he paid for that later.

The problem was that Christina didn’t want to have any expectations for anything. She didn’t want to anticipate riding well, riding just okay, or riding badly. She didn’t want to anticipate it being fun, or stressful. There was no room for wondering if she would find it all rewarding, or challenging, or life-changing, or perhaps even disappointing. She couldn’t think about what it meant for Dirk. She absolutely couldn’t think about possibly being left out of the team again. Everything about the Olympics was scary, because everything was riding on it. It meant too much. So much of her desire, and so many of her goals, was stacked on those colorful rings. It was the Holy Grail off in the distance, and just as mysterious, so there was no telling what she’d encounter on the last leg of the journey to finding it. André was the one who urged her to dream that big. It was never even an option before he came into her life. She was terrified of what resentment toward him might flourish inside of her if it didn’t work out. She hated him for making her love and need him so much when he left her, and it was unbearable. Olympic failure presented the real possibility that she’d feel that again- that it would be “his fault” that there was even a thing out there for her to want like that. And that presented the real possibility of marriage collapse. The foundations had been creaking for so long already, and the reinforcement project was nowhere near complete.

André kept poking at her when she turned into a pensive, quiet, and snappy shopping date. Eventually she did more than just snap at him. She wanted him to back off and stop digging to understand what was wrong with her, and what happened to the much more palatable mood from earlier. Then they got in a fight about the price of a Chanel bag. Following that was the fight about how they could possibly have a fight about a Chanel bag. The concluding fight was about the party. André didn’t want to go anymore. He didn’t want to do anything with her while she was “being a pill”. The cranky, triggered rider said she’d just go alone, then. There were friends to meet up with there anyway. But it wasn’t a fun party. The pop music was too loud. The strobe lighting was painfully distracting. Most of the guests were either huddled in small, exclusive groups, or shouting at each other near the equine ice sculpture and shellfish buffet. Most of the people found Christina’s short fuse off putting too. Kent’s head was bitten off for making a joke about her trying to get a Bellini, for example. He pulled a face like he didn’t understand what he did wrong or what just happened, and then excused himself to chat to other people. The only one who found her bad attitude amusing was Daniel, and he suggested they ditch the cliché party and go find a chilled out bar for a real cocktail instead of a club drink.

“Do you know what a Serendipity cocktail is?” he asked the pretty woman serving drinks at the busy but more relaxed drinking establishment he chose a few blocks from the booming club. It had a second floor terrace that seemed to be the life of the party. The riders grabbed stools at the bar inside. That there were stools available at all said everything about the density of the population in there.

“No,” the green-eyed blonde admitted. “Walk me through?”

“Tall glass; fresh mint- but don’t muddle it,” Daniel smiled back. “You’re going to like this,” he added, turning to Christina, who was checking to make sure the low part of her high-low hem tank dress wasn’t stuck under a leg of the stool. It was jade jersey and she liked it a lot. Damage wouldn’t do. That silhouette was becoming her favorite for summer, primarily because it was easy, showed off her legs, cool, and generally carefree. The example she wore that night was just a bit longer than the others, and thus she had to be mindful.

“Okay, next?” the bartender asked once she’d obtained the proper glass and dumped some mint leaves down at the bottom.

“Ice to the top. Perfect. Now your best Calvados...” The tall and prematurely graying Olympian turned back to his colleague for a second with narrowed eyes, and then said to fill a third of the glass with the vaguely apple-tinged liquor. “Then a nice brut champagne to the next third. Fill the rest with apple juice. No need to shake.”

“Is it like public knowledge that I love apple juice?” Christina asked skeptically while she watched the rest of the cocktail come together. She let him order for her because the prospect of making a decision made her head hurt. Everything made her head hurt. Her head hurting made her inflict hurt on everyone around her. She knew her mood was insufferable, and felt like she couldn’t get out of her own way in terms of fixing that. Everything annoyed her, and every annoyance ballooned. It was like being really, really overtired and cranky, but she was pretty well rested.

“I don’t know. My knowledge is first-hand. I’ve watched you drink at least a hundred apple-somethings. You have a t-shirt that says “I like juice boxes” with a picture of apple juice. I have even watched you lick apple juice and horse saliva from your fingers after you feed a whole apple to Dirk and he takes it in bites and makes a mess. That’s disgusting, by the way.”

“Ehh. It’s just horse slobber. He eats the best of everything. Won’t kill me,” she shrugged as the Serendipity drink was placed on a napkin in front of her with a black straw. Her first sip was surprising. Her eyes grew wide. This is delicious! It’s boozy, bubbly apple juice. Not too sweet, not too alcoholy, and so...fresh.

“Good, yeah?”

“Amazing. Thank you,” she said, hoping one expression of gratitude could stretch to cover both the woman and her friend.

“You’re very welcome. And for you, sir?”

“Can you do a perfect martini with Filliers?”

“Oui oui. Do you have a preference for the vermouths?”

“Vermouths? Plural?” Christina interjected, puzzled.

“A “perfect” martini has a sweet one and a dry one,” Daniel supplied. He told the server he didn’t care which ones. Christina committed this information to her memory forever. It annoyed her that she didn’t know there was such a thing as a “perfect” martini. But then, everything annoyed her. “Should we see if André wants to come meet us?”

“He’s mad at me.”

“Why?” Daniel questioned. He got a look back from her implying he should already know the answer. “What’s the matter with you, then? You remind me of when Christian beats you fair and square and you can’t do anything about it but act like a petty child.”

“I gave Bettina 30 minutes on background for the TV broadcast and all she asked me about was the Olympics. I am not ready. I am pretending that’s still forever from now.” It was surprisingly easy for Christina to open to up to her fellow rider about her current state of anguish. He’d proven to her a few times that he could empathize with her specific problems, and that was a rare thing. It wasn’t stubbornness or close-mindedness on her part when she thought no one really “got” it. There were literally only a couple of people in the world who could possibly know how she felt about things when it came to her career, the balance with her personal life, and all the fringe matters. They were the only ones with similar experiences. Daniel was the only one she was actually close to, and trusted. Ironically, he was one of the people she had the most friction with in the beginning of her story with the German federation.

“Are you nervous or just not ready to process it yet?” he asked her, demonstrating some of that understanding, and patience too. He wasn’t going to tease or be dismissive.

“I’m not ready to start accepting the pressure. I know I should start now, so that it’s not like being hit by a truck when the day comes that I have to acknowledge that I’m going, hopefully, and that all the significance I’ve attached to it is...like...it’s now. It’s time. It’s happening. It’s not theoretical. I just can’t get there. I’m pretending it’s not waiting in the future to come for me. When I was in school I used to convince myself that I didn’t need to go to class, or do the reading, and I could figure it all out later. Then it was later and I was buried. I knew I was making a bad choice even as I did it. I feel exactly the same now. But I don’t want to give up all the days between now and then. Once I start letting the pressure settle in, that’s all I’ll be able to think about. And I don’t even know if I’m going yet!”

“You’re going.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you never know with-“

“Heiner said you don’t need to go to the trial. That means you’re going. It will be you, Marcus, Christian, and me. Realistically, who else would it be?” The taller, ever so slightly older and more experienced German ride cocked an eyebrow at the beautiful girl beside him and then sampled the martini offered to him with a twist.

“I don’t know.”

“Think of the horses. Who would he want right now besides Dirk, Taloubet, EVT, and Pret or Gin Chin? That’s the only question for me,” he testified, matter of fact. “Pret or Gin Chin.”

“Pret.”

“You think?”

“I think Marcus thinks.”

“That’s the right choice then.”

“I like Gin Chin.”

“You like my Killer Queen?”

“They’re related, no?”

“Yeah.”

“I love the way you ride her. She seems like she constantly wants to lose her shit and you look after her like it’s no big deal. It’s like- You gotta humor me here for a second,” Christina laughed, temporarily shelving her self-centeredness. “Whenever I watch you ride her I’m like, “Ugh, Daddy.” And- Don’t look at me like that! I get those feels. Because you help her so much and try to make it so easy for her and you don’t get upset when she’s all “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING AND I AM KILLER QUEEN!”,” she laughed about the young mare her teammate had recently taken on. The Belgian bay seemed pretty talented, but very green, and uncertain. “I notice you even jump up her neck a little before the fence just to let her know you’re really going with her, and she totally waits for it. I can see that flicker in her for a half a second when she’s thinking of sucking back but then doesn’t because you sit forward. I can see when you trust her not to lose her shit once in a while too. It’s sexy, man. You ride sexy. What can I say.” Christina shrugged and winked while sipping her wonderful new favorite cocktail from the straw.

“I didn’t know you watched that closely.” The other rider smiled casually and sipped his drink too after complimenting the bartender and giving her a credit card to start a tab.

“Obvs. I learn more watching all you guys than I do from the H’s, easily.”

“I think your rides on Rio are sexy, the way you mean it. Especially now that he’s so fit. I don’t know how someone your size can hold a horse together that covers ground like a bullet train, has no apparent sense of self preservation, and wants to sprint the last three strides no matter what. I watch and I know you’re telling him where to put each foot. You choreograph the 12 individual footfalls in about two blinks of the eye, and they’re always perfect. And usually you have to do it from the backseat!” he laughed. “Andreas and I were laughing a few weeks ago at a close up on the TV with you like Superman, you know? Arms straight out, like this?” Daniel demonstrated one of her more unflattering jumping positions, created by the necessity to catch up to Rio in the air after sitting back and leaning on his mouth to get him to slow down and collect. “I told him you do strength poses like that in the gym, and that clearly this horse is why,” he smiled, being slightly sarcastic. “I don’t think he believed me.”

“You should come to my house and bring some horses- Actually, everyone should. We should all school together where there’s a full course of jumps to play with. I already learn watching you guys in the schooling ring at shows but it’s different when it’s not just a warm up. And I have so much room now.”

“That’s it? No rejection that I am impressed by your riding? No assurance that it’s not that difficult?”

“Sorry. I was already past that conversation in my head when I opened my mouth,” Christina chuckled. “Thanks? I guess? I also just ignore it when guys say anything I do is sexy, even though, yes, I know you meant it the way I meant it when I said it before, and not the conventional way.”

“Are there really that many ways to mean “Ugh, Daddy”?”

“Yes! I didn’t mean “Ugh, Daddy, pull down my underwear and spank me,” or something. It’s just...ugh, Daddy. Period. End of the thought. It’s more a caretaker thing. I dunno man,” she laughed, giving up and holding out her arms. “I have Daddy Issues, capitalized, trademarked, etc. Everyone knows this. You’re the only straight dude who has ever called my riding sexy, so this is just as weird for me! Usually it’s like, Rafa, telling me I look sexy in a magazine and not to tell my sister-in-law.”

“I honestly don’t understand when I see “sexy” pictures of you in adverts.” Daniel looked over at her and made a strange face, like he was trying not to grin but not really succeeding. “It looks like you, sure, okay, but I don’t know you as a sexy person. You don’t do sexy things in the stables, I guess. I don’t know. Horse girls have never been sexy to me.”

“Gee thanks!”

“You know what I’m saying.”

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments. It’s okay.”

“Oh, you know what? I did think you were sexy once.”

“Fantastic.”

“You were lying on a curved lounge chair by the pool in Doha in a bikini and doing a magic trick.”

“Huh?”

“You had a volleyball and you were using your heel to roll it over your butt and into the middle of your back, and then it would stop and go up by your foot again. Do you remember the loungers there? They were curved.” He demonstrated a W-shape with his pointer to jog her memory about the wonderful pool furniture that gave her the favored stretching sensation in her back by turning it into a U. “The ball going up and over your behind and down to your back and then back again was mesmerizing and I didn’t know how you could do it so perfectly and continuously.”

“Magic trick, correct.” Christina winked and then had a look around the bar. It was in a fairly long and narrow space between the stairs up from the dining room and the restrooms at the back. It was half the width of the dining room because the kitchen was wedged in behind the wall of liquor bottles. Whatever was still cooking in there smelled good. It was pretty quiet inside but for the din of all the voices outside on the terrace- some laughing, some telling stories, some flirting, no doubt, and many shouting over each other. Something kind of unusual dawned on the rider while she absorbed the surroundings and decided it was a comfortable place to hang out. Daniel is my friend. We’re friends now, not just teammates, or horse show friends. Actual friends. I’m not looking around at everything in here because I’m uncomfortable, or not uncomfortable but just not comfortable, or because I have nothing to talk about. I’m perfectly fine. I have been so with him for a long time, really. I don’t know why I discount him as a friend when I think about my lack of friends. Marcus too, sort of. I don’t relate to him as well on a social, non-horse level, because he’s old. It’s a little different. But still. And D doesn’t even hit on me, so there’s that.

“Is anyone from home going to come to Tokyo with you?” her “new” friend questioned absently while he appeared to be returning a text to his partner.

“No, and I wish you’d stop saying that like it’s a definite,” she chided.

“It is. Why isn’t anyone coming? André has football already?”

“Yeah, and it’s a bit much for Lukas. I’m okay with it just being me and Tom Tom.”

“You two are a good match. How did that come to be?”

“We were assigned,” Christina giggled around her straw. “Props to Holger, I guess.”

“What about Stefanie and Kyle? They’re not coming even just to watch?”

“Stef can’t afford it, financially or time-wise, and if I’m there then I need Kyle home riding.”

“Juan Mata?”

“Football.”

“I can let you borrow my dad, I guess. He’s a pretty good horse show dad, and he’ll already be there and everything.”

“Aww, thanks, pal.”

“Serendipity is good for you. No more biting heads off. Champagne and apples go a long way for women addicted to horses and winning, I guess.”

“I just wasn’t in the mood for that kind of party,” she humbly admitted, eyes on the cement-look bar. “I wasn’t in the mood for existing alone inside my head either. That happens to me a lot. Like at Olympia. I get into this thing in my head where I need someone to just hear me out and let me get the stuff out of there but I don’t trust anybody to listen because I don’t think they’ll understand, because they don’t have the same experiences or situations as me, and then I’m sure they’ll get preachy because they don’t understand. I don’t want to talk to them to get advice or to solve something. I just want to talk at them and feel like they hear me and they get it. So I feel aggressively alone and it...sucks. I can’t talk to Schü about the Olympics. He looks so panicked whenever it comes up because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing- like be too rah-rah, or too cautious, or overhype it, or underhype it, whatever. Then I get mad because he’s supposed to always know the best thing to do or be or say. I can’t talk to Juan either. He’s not afraid of the subject, but his faith and belief in my ability to have the exact experience in Tokyo that I want and need to have just drives me nuts. It’s not realistic. He also makes me feel stupid for ever questioning myself. My friend Nat never has anything significant or meaningful to say about sporting matters. Her only experience is as Eden’s rock, which actually means staying out of sports psychology and stuff. She’s his home away from all of it. It always seems to take me half a day too long to remember that you are the closest to fitting into my shoes. Figuratively of course, since your feet are like three times the size of mine.” Christina held a foot out in a boring T-strap sandal. Aside from being pleased with her dress, her mood was too dour to get excited about dressing for the party. Her ensemble lacked effort.

“Heiner said to me one time that he wishes you were less intelligent,” the other rider offered in response to her lengthy explanation that was really meant to be a “thank you” for lending her his ear. “It was during the Nations Cup last year. He thinks if you were more dumb, you would have less things happening inside your head to be wrapped up in- less psychological weight to have on your shoulders. We all see it, you know? It’s not hidden. Everyone can see when you’re in trouble because your ankle is collapsing, and when you’re in trouble because you have too much happening inside. Then he argued with himself and said that you wouldn’t ride as well if you were stupid, so it was a moot point. My point in sharing his confliction is that you should try to accept that you think a lot about everything, and keep finding good ways to do it, as opposed to fighting it, or being down on yourself for it. It’s who you are. There are things we all need to improve about ourselves, but we have to make sure we don’t misidentify them, and try to change the qualities that are actually our best strengths. For example, I knew I needed to learn to play nice with you and stop being so competitive, taking everything personally even when it wasn’t up to you. So I did that, and stopped getting upset at you for being selected over me, or upset at you for beating me, and refocused on being upset that anyone was selected instead, so that I could use it as motivation. Because I can’t stop being competitive. Heiner would say, I assume, that you should keep talking to us about the things that you struggle with, or that you just can’t get off your mind, instead of keeping them in and letting them turn you into a bitch or screw up your performance.”

“I don’t always think of it though,” the girl in jade complained after drinking enough of her beverage to take it below the ice level. “I literally don’t think of you guys as resources that way until after I’ve exhausted all other avenues. I’m not used to having people in riding. I spent all my junior years learning to keep my mouth shut around everyone but my very best friend, because I was always offending people, or starting fights between others, or getting my trainers in trouble. Plus there was no one in my shoes then either. The other girls didn’t have the same attitude about their riding that I did. I just kept stuff to myself, or I told Jill, my best friend. She was very different from me.” Why am I still talking, she wondered idly. I should have just said, “Yeah, that’s right, and I’ll try to work on doing that”. I can’t get out of my own damn way today.

“I’m thrilled you think of me when you see Furry porn but not when you need a friend.”

“Okay that was like twice, dude, and you were the one who brought up Furry sex. I saw those gifs and just had to send them to you!” The lighthearted exchange about her unwanted texts helped to lift the mood, or at least to eliminate the need to wrap up the serious conversation with some kind of finality, or conclusion. The more German of the two Germans kept running with the new topic.

“Where even were you on the Internet that you found those things? You never said,” he laughed pointedly, also nearing the end of his martini.

“Buzzfeed, probably. I get bored on planes and beaches. Their stupid quizzes are addicting. I built an ideal hamburger and Buzzfeed said, of all the world leaders, I’m Angela Merkel. Isn’t that cool? She’s who I wanted to get.”

“Have you met her yet?”

“No. Maybe if we win a gold medal, eh?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to tell people I wanna call you Daddy?”

“Literally everyone. I’m thinking of telling the barmaid when I order the next round.”

#football fanfiction

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